#but yesterday I had my first automatic car practice and oh my god

[minikate--24-05]

how do I tell neurotypicals that I can see the traffic signs better when I’m driving an automatic car instead of a manual one without them thinking I’m crazy

[parksprout]

Sprout Journal 11/3/24

Hey Tumblr! There's some stuff I wanna talk about today, so I'm going to do a lil journal entry. I was doing journaling at home with pen and paper, but frankly my handwriting is so bad and I use my hands like that so infrequently that I was cramping before I got even close to writing all of my thoughts out each day. So I decided I'm going to put my thoughts that I can share out like this, it can be somewhat of a log of my own self growth! And also keep me a lil sane if I'm struggling again.

Today has been a really good day, actually! So I was on a really successful diet for about 6 months during which I got a 3rd of the way to my overall weight goal and built a bunch of muscle. Then, when I started college full time, I basically stopped altogether. I didn't gain any weight back, but I have been plateaued (least favorite word to spell omg) for a looonggggg time. This week, I've been finally eating how I want to again. My go to breakfast has been

Overnight oats: 1/2 cup of unrefined dried oats 1/2 cup of 2% milk 1 whole banana cut into thin slices 1 tablespoon of honey

Honestly I had it on like the 29th without any banana or honey and that SHIT WAS ASSSSSSS. It was so bland, but I hate wasting food so I downed that slop anyway and felt siicccckkkk ough. Honestly it's been really hard to eat lately due to my current tweak out sesh (breakup stuff) and forcing myself to down that was terrible ToT. This new version with banana and honey is AMAZING THOUGH LIKE ITS GENUINELY TASTY?

After I ate that I went to work and... honestly? As much as I hate my co-workers? It was really good to see them today. They may be bad people, but they are all really attached to me. I have been giving them all life advice for so long because I thought I had it all figured out, and it's very funny being on the opposite end of things now. I specifically asked them if they think I was being silly for reaching out and breaking no contact with my partner (they are my ex but... ugh it doesn't feel right to say that, it makes my stomach hurt). I explained to them why, how, and when I did it and... they actually supported me, they are the only ones in my life who think that reaching out was anything but a mistake. I probably asked 12 people about it and only those three felt like... maybe I'm not wrong for trying to continue the conversation more than we did. Either way, they responded yesterday and we've been talking a lot today. Us talking naturally doesn't mean we're automatically back together, but it might be a new beginning of sorts regardless of what the end looks like. I'm feeling hopeful that we might be able to talk things out and heal, but I can't say anything for certain for now and probably won't be able to for a long time.

I can say that... I found out today that they were thinking about me too. When they started replying to my texts today I snuck out of work to sit in the back of my car and just... take in what they were saying, and respond. They took a picture at work that had my name on it... that made me cry real, fat tears for the first time since this happened. It's strange how I had been sobbing but my cheeks stayed dry, but the moment I talked to them and saw a glimmer of us in their life I started bawling in the back of my own car.

Today is also the first day I've rested instead of heading to the gym after work since this all started. Oh my god my body is so sore. Right now I'm planning out the rest of my night and physical activity is NOT on the agenda.

- After I post this I'll give myself a bit more time to rest and relax - Then it's time to work on homework! First I have to practice for an oral exam I have tomorrow in Spanish class. Then after that, I have both a presentation and another project in Archaeology due on Friday ToT I also have this re-write of a short story for creative writing that I need to work on a second draft of - Then I want to work on OC stuff? I have some ideas for a sleep token OC that I wanna work on, and also I think I can refine my OC's for DnD, my personal writing projects and more somewhat? I think it'd been neat to try and draw them myself sometime soon - besides that I don't think I have plans. Maybe some video games or reading if I have extra time!

Thank you for listening tonight tumblr, you're the realest <3 if anyone sees this, I'm still looking for more mutuals! I wanna learn more about people who share my interests, don't be a stranger :3

[foli-vora]

counting stars

A/N: I apologise if this is a mess—I’ve just written this on my phone while camping in the middle of nowhere 😅 truly inspired by the outdoors hahah. Yes I’m sitting incredibly still in a spot that I found had cell service so I can upload this because I’m Impatient™️.

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: depressive thoughts, insecurities, A SICKENING AMOUNT OF FLUFF

+++

The truck’s packed. That’s the first thing you notice when you pull into the driveway, eyeing the bags chucked neatly in the bed of the vehicle. The brief sharp stab of panic that impales your heart is drowned by a sickening twist of understanding. Of course he’d leave — why would he want you? Why would he waste time being with you when he could do so much better? You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t get in his way of leaving.

The sigh that leaves you as you exit your car is long and drawn out, each step towards the house drains the low level of energy you had leftover after your shift and you wonder if you’ll be in Frankie’s way if you take up the couch to sleep. Will he want to take the couch? He had bought it, after all. The bed, then. He wouldn’t leave you without a bed — maybe he’ll come back for it tomorrow.

Frankie’s coming down the stairs when you walk through the door, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder and Mena giggling in his arms. God you’re gonna miss those little giggles. He smiles when he sees you, dropping the bag next to a bright pink unicorn one on the floor before striding over to you.

You’re stumped when he slings an arm around your waist and brings you in close, hips bumping together, and Mena immediately dives in to press a wet kiss against your cheek. He kisses the other, sharing a little smile with his little girl before looking at you.

“You’ve got 10 minutes to pack some clothes.” He says, and you blink, stomach rolling.

Oh. Maybe he was packing your stuff.

Of course, it’s his house.

It’s in his truck because you couldn’t possibly fit everything in your car. He was helping you move out. He didn’t have to—you could have called a removal company or something. He shouldn’t have to go out of his way, especially with Mena.

You’re sullen as you answer, brushing past him with a quiet okay. The stairs are hard to climb, but eventually you reach your bedroom. You try not to look at the photos lining the walls—pictures of Mena, of her with Frankie or you, of all three of you, of you and Frankie snuggled together on various dates and trips, scribbles deemed masterpieces plastered proudly in expensive frames. Maybe you could ask for a few copies, or take the originals if he was just going to throw the ones of you away. Which he would, of course, why would he keep them?

He’s left a duffle on the bed for you—his old army one. He loves this one. He uses it for everything. You make a mental note to make sure to return it.

Tears choke your throat as you pack the bag, and it’s not until strong arms wind around your waist that they fall free. You won’t say no to a final hug. You try to memorise the tightness of his arms, the feel of his beard along your skin as he buries his face in your neck.

“You ready? Mena’s getting cranky,” you hear the chuckle in his voice and nod your head. He must feel the tension in your torso because immediately he’s turning you, frowning at the tears streaking your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” He’s gentle as he wipes them from your cheeks, the pinch between his brows deepening as your face crumbles in his hands.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit, sniffling quietly, “but I will if that’s what you want. You and Mena deserve better.”

“What?”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not.” Soon your face is pressed hard against his chest and he’s crushing you, hand tight on the back of your head as he holds you. “You’re not going anywhere, not without us, anyway. We’re going on a trip. All three of us—together.”

A trip? Your mind is a whirl as you try to catch up. He wasn’t leaving you? Or, more accurately, you weren’t moving out? Suddenly the packed bags, especially Mena’s unicorn one, and packed truck make a little more sense to your darkened mind, and you instantly relax in his arms.

He pulls back, dark eyes sad as he studies your face.

Frankie had watched you the last few days; watched your mood sour, watched the bags below your eyes deepen. You’d barely been sleeping — he could feel you toss and turn all night, could feel the shudder in your shoulders as you tried to keep your sobs quiet in fear of waking him. He’d seen the look of utter defeat wash your face when you accidentally spilt the milk trying to make a coffee yesterday, seen the immediate glaze of tears as he wiped the spill away. You were gone before he could even turn and comfort you, the door slamming as you all but ran to your car.

He knew what was happening—could recognise the signs a mile away after having to defeat his own monster lurking in the back of his mind telling him he wasn’t good enough, reminding him of all the awful things he’d done in his life, what he’d done to others. He’d gone straight to work, said he wouldn’t be able to do any shifts on the weekend, and had left at lunch to start packing.

“I love you.”

Your face falls, head shaking in automatic denial.

“I do,” his touch is gentle, brushing more tears away with his thumbs. “I know you’ve been struggling lately. I’m sorry for not saying anything—I should’ve made it clear when you came home. We’re going camping for the weekend, unless you don’t feel up to it which is fine. We can just order a pizza, cuddle up on the couch and watch movies if that sounds better.” He smiles warmly, reassuringly, and you know in your heart that he really truly doesn’t mind what you decide to do.

How you ever landed Francisco Morales, you’ll never know.

“No, I want to go.”

“Are you sure? Please don’t be scared to say no—”

“I want to go.”

For the first time for what feels like all week, you smile, and actually mean it.

His eyes flick across your face, searching for any signs of hesitation, and then he grins, your eyes automatically falling to admire the dimple creasing his cheek. You kiss it instinctively, relief washing through you as your mind and hearts calms. He stops you as you pull away, leaning in and letting his nose run along yours before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He helps you put some clothes together, and with the two of you, you’re packed within a few minutes. He holds your hand on the way down the stairs, but stops to collect all the bags while you grab the little girl pulling at your legs. She babbles to you excitedly as you follow Frankie out of the house, her little fingers habitually pulling and fiddling with the chain around your neck.

You try to fend off the overwhelming feelings of unworthiness while you listen to Frankie talk animatedly back to Mena as you buckle her into her car seat, her little voice loud and bubbly as she claps her hands and bounces in her seat. You try to smile, try to reassure yourself that Frankie loves you, that Mena loves you, but you struggle truly believing it. How could they?

Music’s soon blaring throughout the cab of the truck as the familiar houses of your neighbourhood fly past, the Spotify playlist Frankie spent a good hour finding and adding songs to filling the quiet. He sings along, grinning at Mena’s attempts to sing along in her own little language, and when he looks at you, eyes shining with adoration, your chest feels tight and constricted.

You really didn’t deserve these two.

It takes a couple of hours to get to Frankie’s favourite spot—somewhere familiar to you from the many times he had taken you there. The small clearing is the same as it always has been, the large logs still situated around a small burnt patch of ground where leftover charred logs sat from previous campers. Frankie’s quick to erect the tent and organise the bedding inside, and soon he’s joining you and Mena at the edge of the wide lake glowing under the fading sun.

She’s dancing in the sand, little bare feet kicking up the grains as she twirls and twists and giggles when she goes too far and her toes touch the cool water. You sink to the ground and hug your legs, content to watch her enjoy the last bit of sunlight before it sinks beneath the horizon with a longing to feel as wild and carefree as she does.

“Papa!”

Frankie answers her call with a loud playful growl, and soon she’s squealing as he chases her across the sandbank. He catches her, throws her over his shoulder and spins, laughing at her wild screams of delight as he tickles her sides. Your chest warms, and the smile tugging at your lips is automatic as Mena runs on unsteady legs back to you, curls bouncing in her pigtails as she escapes Frankie’s arms and bolts to you for safety.

“Mama!” She climbs into your arms and your face drops in shock, wide eyes blinking up at Frankie who’s stopped dead behind her. The grin that widens his face practically blinds you, his eyes immediately shining with a sheen of tears as he drops beside you and smothers you both with a hug, pressing loud kisses to wherever he could reach. Mena giggles, pulling away to look between the pair of you with sparkling dark eyes. Little arms wind around both you and Frankie as she cuddles you close, her little head falling tiredly against your chest.

You catch Frankie looking at you, and return his fond gaze, smiling shyly under his admiration. The three of you snuggle together as the sun disappears, throwing bright hues of pink and orange across the cloudy sky, and finally, the tight feeling in your chest lessens under the pressure of two pairs of loving arms. Finally—you feel like you can breathe.

Frankie pipes up soon after the sun sets, “Who’s hungry?”

Mena’s head pops up instantly, the sleepiness that was just weighing her body down seemingly vanishing at the mention of food. She wiggles off your lap, and runs back to the campsite leaving you and Frankie chuckling quietly to yourselves as you follow. He and Mena sit together while he builds a fire, and you hear him talk through the process, Mena watching with curious eyes as he stacks the wood and lights it.

You all stay huddled together as the chill of the night drops over the camp site, sharing quiet laughs and keeping Mena entertained until her eyes start to drop. You stay mostly quiet, happy to just witness the two loves of your life share in each other’s affections.

Soon you and Frankie are left alone once Mena succumbs to sleep, and he brings two cups out with his phone playing quiet music, wiggling the bottle of whiskey he had hidden in his bag mischievously after putting her down in the tent. He pours a generous amount into both before sinking onto the log beside you, watching the flames dance in the dark before nudging you softly.

“Talk to me, baby.”

Sighing, your finger traces the rim of the cup and you shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. I just... I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”

He nods, “Has something happened?”

You purse your lips, thinking over the last few weeks. Nothing jumps out and you shrug again, frowning at the flames. “No. My head just... I don’t know. I’m happy with my life—I love you, more than anything, and Mena, too... my job is fine—everything’s fine, but... my head just...” you struggle to finish your sentence, frown deepening.

You’re not making any sense. You never make sense. How can you possibly turn the jumble of thoughts in your head into words and make him understand? You barely understood it all yourself. What did you have to be upset over? Your life was picture perfect. Perfect man, perfect daughter, perfect job, a home full of love... so many people had it worse. You shouldn’t feel the way you do.

You must’ve spoken aloud because the next minute Frankie is reaching for your hand, rubbing the skin soothingly.

“I get it.” He says quietly, shooting you a comforting smile when you blink up at him, tears filling your eyes. “Our minds can be cruel sometimes, but just because there are others out there who may have it worse doesn’t take away from how you feel. You matter, just as much as others.”

You don’t try to stop the tears that fall from your eyes, instead letting them fall down your cheeks in a heavy flow. He moves closer in response, moving the arm holding your hand around your shoulder and pulling you in close to his side. The warmth from his body seeps into yours and you take a shaky breath as the tears continue.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want to talk to someone? I know of a few good doctors around.”

Shaking your head, you lean your head on his shoulder and sigh deeply. “No, I think I’m alright for now, but if it gets worse...”

His arm tightens in response, and he nods quietly.

“I’m here for you, honey.” He murmurs, turning to kiss your forehead gently. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You smile through your tears, turning to gaze up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Frankie.”

Quiet conversation starts up once the flow of tears dies off, and soon he has you in fits of laughter, the whiskey loosening the last bits of tension from your frame as it warms your insides. When Frankie’s favourite song comes on, he’s up before you can even make a comment, holding a hand out to you with a wide grin once he throws back the last of his drink and tosses his cup aside without a care.

“What?” You ask, eyeing his open palm with a grin.

“Dance with me.”

How could you ever say no? You couldn’t. Not to him. Your grin turns shy as you take his hand, letting him pull you up and off the log and into his frame. He holds you close, arms winding securely around you as you sway softly. The stars catch your attention when you rest your head on his shoulder, and you feel a lump growing in the back of your throat when Frankie starts to softly sing in your ear. It’s not depressive thoughts that have you on the verge of tears this time. Instead, your heart is damn near bursting, the flood of love for this man so strong you have to stop yourself from squeezing him too tight.

Your eyes flick to watch a shooting star, but instead of making a wish, you tuck yourself impossibly closer to Frankie. You didn’t need a wish—you had everything you needed already.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

[babbushka]

Hi Mrs. Z! I hope you’re doing well, lovely. I wanted to request Flip teaching his wife how to drive. I imagine how patient and doting he would be looking after her while she masters this new skill. Thanks love! ❤️

A/N: I’m sorry to say this my dear anon, but there is nothing patient about Flip Zimmerman when it comes to driving, lol! But, I hope that you enjoy this chaotic ficlet, even if it isn’t exactly what you had hoped for!

(2.3k, cw: swearing/cursing, arguing, mentions of stabbing, blood, extremely unsafe driving practices, Flip making his girlfriend cry but for only like 2 seconds I promise it’s not really angsty lol) 

If Flip had to think about your flaws, he knows he would come up with a pretty short list. There’s not much that you can’t do, especially when you put your mind to something. He has always thought this, let the record show, he thinks you are capable and strong.

He also thinks you are an absolutely fucking nightmarish driver.

Bracing himself with what he has decided can only be called the “jesus!!”-strap on the passenger side of your car, Flip tries to hang on as you tear through the roads. There’s too much happening all at once, he’s got a million things he wants to say, but as you run yet another red light, all he can manage is to shout out a panicked, “Slow down!!”

“I can’t slow down! You’re bleeding all over the fucking place!” You’re just as panicked as he is, which is a much bigger problem because you are the one currently trying to navigate rainy roads in a two-thousand-pound death machine.

It is true, yes, that he is bleeding all over the place. He may or may not have gotten stabbed in a chase that ultimately led to nothing on a big bust that one of the rookies fucked up for the squad. However, he wasn’t so sure that that meant he wasn’t fully capable of driving. He had wrapped himself in a compress of damp towels and plastic-wrap, and he had wholly intended to take the keys when you threw what could only be described as a fit at the state of him.

Which is how Flip finds himself in the very rare position of being the passenger, with you behind the wheel, driving like a bat out of hell.

“Oh my god – you can’t just run a red light like that – who the hell taught you how to drive ketsl? You’re a maniac!” You barrel through another intersection as the windshield wipers are going a mile a minute, and Flip abandons the strap to light up his sixth cigarette of the ride.

And then, you turn to him with a deep scowl, and throw it right back in his face as you point out one of the biggest regrets of Flip Zimmerman’s life, as you remind him that, “You did!”

“I’m going to die like this. Do you know how embarrassing that’s going to be, honey? I’m a decorated officer of the law, I served two fucking tours in Vietnam and I’m going to die because you can’t – watch out!” Flip has to brace himself again as you swerve around a corner too sharply on wet roads, the tires screeching as you burn rubber underneath your wheels. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re pretty, you know that? Pretty girls like you don’t go to jail like they should for bein’ a menace on the fuckin’ roads. If I were in a better frame of mind I’d give you a ticket – no, worse than that! I’d lock you up, house arrest, no more drivin’ for the rest of your days.”

“Okay fine, you drive then.” You snap, throwing your hands up with exasperation, abandoning the wheel entirely, “If you’re going to just bitch the whole time you can do it.”

“Ketsl!” Flip yells as he grabs the wheel so that the two of you don’t go crashing into a street lamp, “Jesus you’re gonna kill us. How’d you even get your fucking license anyway? Bet you smiled so pretty at the schmuck at the DMV and batted your lashes. You’re a menace, I can’t believe you.”

Yes, he was the one who taught you how to drive. Or at the very least, he’s the one who attempted. He remembers it as if it were only yesterday, and tries not to think that he’s watching his life flash before his eyes…

                                                        ~~~~~~~~

You had been waiting for him on your front porch when he came pulling up to the curb one day after work. Dressed real smartly, you bounded over to the driver’s window and he rolled it down enough that you could lean in and give him a big wet kiss.

“Hey sweetheart, what do you want to do today?” Flip had asked, starry eyed that he got to call you his girl. He had a couple plans in mind for the evening, but he always liked to ask you first, because your input mattered more.

“You can’t laugh.” You started off by saying, which by all accounts should have been Flip’s first clue that it was going to be a stressful day.

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because I was hopin’ you’d teach me how to drive.”

You look too hopeful for Flip to say no flat-out, but he really wants to. He really really wants to say no. But he’s a gentleman, or at least he tries to be, so he tries to find a polite way to say it, and eventually settles on, “…You sure about that?”

“Yeah! C’mon it looks real easy, and you’re a great teacher and you love me so much and I thought that it would be nice.” You’re determined, and he loves that about you in just about every other circumstance, as you continue on and on, “You know and then maybe if I get my license I could get a car and you wouldn’t have to go waitin’ on me all the time. I could pick you up from work, take you out to dinner.”

“But I like waiting on you and picking you up and taking you out to dinner.” Flip points out as he reaches through the window and pinches your nose playfully between his fingers, gives your face a little shake.

“Please Philly? Please won’t you teach me?” You pout and give him your best doe eyes, batting your lashes at him in the way that always gets him to say yes, and he sighs.

He brings you back to his house, and gets out and calls Jimmy, who he somehow manages to convince to bring his car over. Flip drives a stick-shift, and he can already tell that would be a nightmare in itself, but Jimmy drives an automatic, which he has a feeling is going to be easier.

You’re too excited to be learning that you don’t even question it, happily climbing into the passenger seat and marveling at all the dials and numbers on the dashboard. Flip slides into the passenger seat and hands you the keys.

“Okay, this here’s an automatic car. That means you don’t have to worry about shifting gears too quickly, and can focus on just controlling the car.” He explains, and you nod.

“How come we aren’t in your car?” You ask offhandedly, and Flip scratches at his goatee.

“Because I like my car.” He replies truthfully.

“Rude.”

“First step, turn the car on and check your mirrors.” Flip ignores the remark and tries to be encouraging as you turn the ignition and the engine rumbles underneath you. You jump a little, letting a happy laugh escape your lips at the marvel of automotive technology, and Flip tries not to be patronizing. It doesn’t work that well, “Very good, you’re doing great, you’re a natural. My girl, the natural.”

“You’re so mean to me why do I put up with you?” You chuckle, not wanting to feel like a dog who learned a new trick, even if that is sort of what it felt like.

“Love you,” Flip apologizes with a kiss, and checks to make sure the coast is clear before instructing, “Put the car in reverse, and slowly lift off the brake – ”

Either you have a different definition of slow, or this is going to be a lot harder than Flip thought, because his stomach is swooping up into his throat as you go speeding down the driveway, foot almost entirely off the pedal.

“Sorry!” You immediately slam on the brake, and Flip’s head smacks forwards against the dashboard, making you wince as your entire body tenses up, “I’m sorry, slowly, right got it, slowly.”

This should have been Flip’s second clue.

His patience manages to last for three entire minutes, before he just can’t take it anymore.

You’re out of the drive way now, having successfully avoided hitting the mailbox, and are now making right turns around the neighborhood, except that you really aren’t grasping how slow slow really is, and Flip’s seriously worried someone’s porch dog is going to be in major trouble.

“You have to slow down before you turn!” He grits his teeth, his foot instinctively pressing on a brake that isn’t there, and he wishes in the back of his head that he had rented one of those student driving cars as he fists a hand into his hair and bites the inside of his cheek, “Are your shoes filled with lead? What’s the matter with you? Who have you ever been in the car with that drives this fast?”

“You always speed like this!” You point out, but Flip doesn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, on the highway! Not in a residential fuckin’ neighborhood – you know maybe that’s what you need, let’s get on the freeway, c’mon make a right here.” Flip instructs, and you let out an exasperated sigh and do as he says.

Ten minutes later, Flip is certain you’re going to drive him over a cliff, and it shows.

“Pull over – you know what, just fuckin’ – pull over. You don’t need to learn how to drive, okay? You don’t have to do anything from now on but sit there and look pretty, and eat some snacks. Okay?” He’s not shouting, not exactly, but his voice is raised with panic and irritation, patience completely gone out the window.

“Okay.” You reply, voice small, as you put on the flashers and hit the brakes, gravel flying everywhere underneath the tires as you pull onto the shoulder, away from the free-way.

Flip lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and rubs at a pounding headache that formed, as you get out of the car and begin to walk away. Confused and concerned, Flip immediately wrenches open the door of the car and follows you, his tension and panic giving way to an altogether different fear when he notices you wiping at your eyes.

“Are you crying?” Flip demands, his voice a little too harsh, and you wince from it.

“No.” You scowl at him, your eyes absolutely filled with tears that keep welling up, clinging to your lashes.

“Aw ketsl don’t cry – ”

“I’m not fucking crying.” You cry, before throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation and defeat, “Sorry I’m such a shitty unteachable terrible awful driver.”

Flip feels a dagger go through his chest, he doesn’t think he’s ever made you cry. Never, not once, in all the time he’s known you, and now here he is, feeling like the biggest schmuck in the world, because he lost his temper.

Approaching you gently, Flip pulls you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, kisses all over your face, at your cheeks and chin.

“Hey, no one said any of that.” He whispers, rubbing his cheek against yours, trying to get you to calm down.

“You didn’t have to.” You sound so glum, and he hates himself for it, because it’s his fault.

“Look at me?” Flip grabs your cheeks in between his hands, squishes them every so slightly as he looks you in the eye and says seriously, “You are a great person, with many, many talents. And driving…like anything it’s all about practice. That’s just what you need, some practice.”

“It was a stupid idea in the first place, I don’t know what the fuck I was even thinkin’.” You try to shake him off, but he’s stronger than you and won’t let you go that easily.

“You were thinkin’ that you’d like to be independent and I don’t blame you.” Flip realizes, chewing on his lip. It was the 1960s now, women were starting to drive in greater numbers and you wanted to be one of them, you didn’t want to be some helpless damsel not able to get herself around. As much as Flip wanted to be the fella to take care of you, he couldn’t fault you for wanting to take care of yourself, so he sighs out a gentle, “Let’s give it another go? Will you drive us back to my house?”

“’Kay.” You hear the sincerity in his voice, and you nod.

“That’s my girl.” Flip kisses away those unshed tears, and leads you back to the car, opening the driver’s door for you.

“If you yell at me again though, I’ll let go of the wheel and you’ll have to fuckin’ deal with it.” You threaten, and Flip only chuckles, not thinking you’d ever mean it.

                                                       ~~~~~~~~

At the hospital, you sit on the edge of his bed and reach for his hand. Flip gives it to you, and you pull it to your lips, pressing a kiss to the wedding band. Those days seem so far away now, and really, you are a good driver. You are.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, “I’m just worried about you. I always get worried when you show up at home bloody like that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled, that was wrong of me.” Flip shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips. God it really was a good thing you were pretty, wasn’t it?

“Think I just need a little more practice?” You crack a grin, biting at your lip and echoing a sentiment that he had shared years and years ago.

“Yeah, we’ll start with a couple right turns as soon as I’m free to go.” Flip replies, and you huff out a laugh.

“I hate you, you know that?” You kiss his ring again, rubbing your cheek against his palm.

“What was that? I couldn’t here you, come a little closer…” Flip’s hand cups your cheek, winds into your hair a little as he guides your face down down down to kiss him.

Eyes closing, you press your smiles together, knowing that when he’s discharged after his pain killers start to wear off, when you drive home it’ll be a far calmer affair.

                                                       ~~~~~~~~

                                                       ~~~~~~~~

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @cowgirl1234 @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen

[nicka-nell]

Prompt Event

Request: anonymous - OMG 500 followers is so exciting!! CONGRATS!! I am so excited for your event - I hope your inbox doesn't get too out of control! 🥰 Can I request Ukai or Ushijima (you choose) + NSFW + 30, 37, 59??

Prompt Event  | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x reader Words: 2.345 Warning: NSFW, 18+ Note: All characters are grown-up!

Prompts: 30. Have you always been this beautiful? 37. What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? 59. Shouldn’t you be with him?

Back then, you were little. You had just learned to tie your shoelaces without help, had made and eaten sand cake with your little hands. Back then, it was your father Nekomata who pulled you into a volleyball game.

To a team called Karasuno. A team where the coach was just as eager to win as your father. To your astonishment, he also had a boy at your age with him. He had always looked fiercely, his arms folded in front of his chest and always looked in the opposite direction from his father.

You can still remember that at a game, the men of the teams had warmed up, practiced their serve while you were about to close your loose shoelace. “Watch out!” Called the other coach’s boy as he stood in front of you and caught a harsh hit of the ball with his back, preventing you from getting punched in the face with a volleyball.

You remember you two used to sneak out at the games, hide out in his mom’s store, and secretly read adult magazines. You were laughing at the naked people in these, laughing and giggling every time you read the word sex. You were always reprimanded by your fathers, still that never stopped you.

But time passed, you became manager of Nekoma High School and Ukai became a setter at Karasuno. You had no time to see each other, had only met briefly at the games.

When your father also thought that Naoi, your substitute setter, is a nice guy and you should meet him, you knew that Ukai should disappear from your thoughts.

Naoi was in the same class as you, you had done a lot together and even now that you have your own job, he performs as the second coach of the Nekoma, you still meet. Just yesterday he was with you, had forgotten his jacket. You told him you’d give him his jacket back when you walked past the gym after work.

Whether it’s coincidence or fate, that you meet right in your former gym Ukai?

Unobtrusively, you sneak into the gym, go over to Naoi to poke him in the side with your index finger. He twitches with a smile before turning around and quietly thanking you for the jacket. As if it were a daily greeting to him, he gives you a kiss on the cheek before saying goodbye to you and turning back to the game.

You’re about to leave the gym when the opposing coach calls for a time-out. That voice, that voice… A voice that used to mean so much to you. Unbelievably, you turn around, to see if you really heard him.

“Ukai?” It escapes you almost silently, when you see the man from your childhood again.

As if he heard your sound, he looks at the entrance. At first he has difficulty recognizing you, but this hair, these eyes, this look, he would recognize it always. Yet you even have changed. You’ve become a real woman.

Now there’s only one question in his head. Have you always been this beautiful?

“Sensei, maybe we should replace him?” Gets him the captain’s voice out of his mind. For a moment, his gaze drifts away from yours, looking at the captain before he watches back in your direction. Except you’re not there anymore.

You know you’re supposed to meet Naoi after the game, but how can you if you just have to think about Ukai now. Almost automatically, your legs set in motion, making you get into your car to drive to Ukais shop, hoping that he will enter the store again today.

When you arrive in front of the store, you take a deep breath, wait a moment and let the chilly air calm your body down before you open the door and step in.

You are greeted by a man who introduces himself as Takinoue. Ask him if Ukai isn’t there today, when he confirms that he will come to the store again tonight. Nodding, you look around the shop as your gaze wanders to the adult magazines.

Smiling, you tell Takinoue that you would like to have one of these magazines, which he holds against you with red cheeks and watches you sit on a chair in the shop.

Time passes, the clock next to the cabinet with the cigarettes ticks and reminds you with every beat that Ukai will soon enter the store. The paper on the last two pages of the magazine squeaks between your fingers as you turn the page when the doorbells ring just a few seconds later and a familiar voice fills the room with excitement.

“Takinoue, did everything go well? I bet there wasn’t much of a clientele today, was there?” He laughs with his deep, smoky voice, but without answering him, Takinoue points at you. You’re still flipping around in that catalog, not looking up at those two men.

“Y/n?” Ukai asks wildly, can’t believe that you of all people are in his shop. Now you lift your eyes, smile at him kindly while you put the magazine out of your hand. “Takinoue…You can go now.”

Ukai’s gaze is filled with your eyes, fixed on you as if you were a shrine fulfilling his wishes. His voice is only heard softly, but still so loud that Takinoue understands to leave now.

Again you hear the bell before the door snaps into the hinge a few seconds later and Ukai comes towards you. Without a word, he sits next to you, looks at you before his gaze lands on the magazine.

He can’t resist a grin, leans back in the chair, his arms behind his back, his legs wide open. “Just like old times, huh?” He just smirks and makes you pay your full attention to him. “Like old times. But, you know what I also remember?” You ask, even though you know Ukai can’t answer that question.

Irritated, he looks at you, thinks about what you had done when you were little, but he can’t think of anything. Resolutely you get up from your chair, sit down on his lap and enjoy his suddenly so frightened face.

Grinning you move your pelvis in his direction, watch deep into his dark brown eyes before you kiss his harsh lips. Your warm tongue lies on his lips, seeking its way inside to connect with his.

With a quiet snort he opens his mouth, noticing his hands unconsciously looking for your delicate body, reaching under the thin fabric of your blouse to caress your sides. Almost a whiny sound escapes him as your lips separate from his when you stare at him with an incredibly attractive look.

“I don’t remember that.” He murmurs softly, not noticing the words that have left his mouth. “No? Maybe I should show you what else we’ve done?” You whisper to him seductively before you move your pelvis up and down in the hope of soon feeling something hard under you.

“Shouldn't you be with him? With Naoi?” He steers in, when your warm breath is already on his lips. “Huh? I’m with you right now.” You answer, and seal his lips with yours, so that you not give him the opportunity to answer.

His tongue, his saliva is bitter, you taste like he smoked another cigarette earlier. Ukai’s fingertips are rough as they wander along your sides, behind your back and digging into your flesh with a gruff.

Did he lock the door? No… Is the closed sign on the door? No… Someone could be coming in any minute. “Shit!” He curses under your kisses before he begins to caress your neck. To experience how you taste, to leave hickeys to show Naoi that you were with him. With Ukai, not with Naoi. He doesn’t care if anyone sees you now.

Your hands hastily search for the end of the coarse fabric of his sweater before you pull it off of his body with a quick movement and drop it to the ground. “Take off your blouse.” His tone is flat, husky as he looks deep into your eyes.

Nodding, you want to open the first buttons of your blouse, but you are too slow for Ukai. His hands that were still on your back before, are suddenly on top of yours, pushing your hands away when he tears open the fabric with an animalistic sound, and pulls it from your body. The buttons rattle as they fall to the floor, rolling through the store until they come to a lie.

With ease, Ukai lifts you up from the chair, kisses you before he turns you around with a jerk and presses your upper body on the table top in front of you. You hear the sound of his zipper behind you as it is opened and the coarse denim fabric glides off his legs.

With a whisper he pulls up your skirt, drills his hands into your shapely ass, only growls with clenched teeth. “Shit, you really got hot.” His rough voice sounds in your ears, and shortly afterwards you feel his warm chest lying on your back as something hard catches your attention.

“Nhhhg Ukai…” you moan and make him smile. His hand lets go of your butt, explores the area between your legs before he rubs his fingers on your wet panties. “God, what a naughty little girl you are. You’re already wet, just from our kisses, huh?” Even if you can’t see his look, you feel this mischievous radiance emanating from him.

“What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids? That I wanted to know how perfectly your sweet cunt wraps around my cock, as a teenager. Your needy moaning for my name?” He breathes into your ear as he begins to nibble on your earlobe and with his free hand pushes your panties aside to spread your walls and press his cock into you.

Almost without resistance it glides into you, wraps his dick with your essence and elicits a sugar-sweet moan out of your throat. A sound that is like music in his ears and satisfies him. “Tell me, my little girl, does my cock feel good in your sweet cunt?” He wants to know while he grabs for your hair to jerk your upper body up with his.

“So good… It feels so good, Ukai!” You snarl while you wonder why he feels so incredibly right. Unlike the men you had before. Ukais thrusts become stronger and more aggressive, causing your whole body to move.

“Oh god!” You whine again when Ukai starts to use his free hand to slide between your folds, just to start playing with your core. His fingertips rub against it, move rapidly, apply pressure and make your breath faster, so that your body tightens.

“God can’t help you right now, my little girl.” He just grins and starts to caress your neck, bite on it, and really play it safe, marking you as his.

His cock in you feels so big. Comes in places where no one has come before. Seek the way to your womb and make you understand that only he can fill you so well. You believe your vision go black, your legs automatically squeeze together as you keep pressing your pelvis against Ukai.

Awkwardly you reach for Ukai’s hair, burying your fingers in them, as if you didn’t know where to go with this desire that is about to explode. “Ah Damn, babe, you’re so hot. Just pull my hair, do what you want if you just give me your sweet moans.” His voice is barely understandable under his wet smacks on your neck, before he shoves his entire length into you with much force, making your tone completely uncontrollable. “Ah Ukai!” Your walls twitch, makes Ukai groan loudly, through this sudden tightness that literally constricts his lim.

You feel his member even better in you, every contour, every vein. Understand now also why it felt so good, because not only Ukais cock is in you, no also all piercings that adorn his cock. Everything rubs against your swollen walls. Elicit a whine that drives Ukai crazy.

“Damn babe, you’re so tight, I’m coming. Shall I pull out?” His trembling voice resounds in your scattered thoughts. “No, I want everything from you, I want to feel like I’m milking your dick, old man.”

That was exactly the answer Ukai wanted to hear, because with a few hard blows he distributes his viscous charge in you, fills you with his warm sperm before he lingers in you with a loud murmur for a moment.

“Damn, that was hot.” He breathes heavily before leaving your body and settling on the chair behind him. For a short blink of an eyelash, he still sees how a sperm thread connects him to you before it tears and sticks to his length.

Out of breath he dangles his hands left and right of him. Enjoy looking at your swollen walls, and how his thick sperm drips out of you slowly.

With an exhausted sigh, you turn around, straighten your panties before you sit on Ukai’s lap again. “As a tenager, I also wanted to know what your cock feels like inside me. Wanted to feel your cum in me and hear your deep voice. If I had known you were so good, I would have asked Naoi much earlier if he wanted to eat with me at home so that he would forget his jacket and I could bring it to him into the gym.” With a throaty laugh you give him a fleeting kiss on his reddish lips, which have changed their color through all your kisses.

“I guess I’ll have to thank the benchwarmer for leading you to me.” Like then, you swap conspiratorial glances before you both start laughing like teenagers when you lower your head to Ukai’s chest and give him an answer with gentle words.

“You have to, yeah.”

[scribblingfangirl]

GLOWING IN THE DARK #2 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: First of all: I am so sorry this part took so long (and it is very underwhelming as it’s just a few scenes of Y/N’s life on the base (all involving Billy - and I’m not sure if I got his character right in this one)). I tried to make it one longer coherent chapter, but I needed these scenes to be able to proceed to the more important parts of the story. Hope you guys don’t mind. I hope the next few installments will appear faster and will get better again. But for now, thank you for reading and enjoy!

word count:  ~ 2.7k

summary: Becoming Billy’s friend is weird - if whatever relationship you have is even considered a friendship.

warnings: //

| PREVIOUS PART | - | next part | - | SERIES MASTERLIST |

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

You felt it – whatever or whoever it was – before you even heard or saw anything. 

As a Marine, you had undergone different kinds of training modules and boot camps and this wasn’t your first tour either. Your job before getting promoted to helicopter gunner had been to try and get in and out of places without raising any suspicion or getting in the way of the others that were fighting while you got the intel. Inevitably, however, sooner or later you had to fight your way out of wherever the hell you were as well.

It had heightened your senses, which made it almost impossible for you to have a good night's rest. The smallest change in the atmosphere or the slightest sound sent you straight to overdrive. No heavy eyelids, no blurry mind - just wide-awake and alert.

Of course, this wasn't the case with everyone though. After missions with the Blackbird crew, you’d seen Garth and Dane fall asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows and nothing could wake them up after that. You even had some conversations with Frank about it whenever you stayed over at the Castles during your military leave. 

You’d call the day you were able to fall asleep within the first ten minutes of getting into bed and stay asleep for the whole night a miracle. That is why your eyes opened wide and your body went rigid as you blinked desperately and tried to adapt your vision to the darkness. Or at least find the smallest shimmer of light. Obviously, you had no such luck. After all, it was somewhere around the early hours of the morning and it was pitch-black in the tent. 

Your hand automatically went for the gun under your pillow, only to end up empty, and it took you a millisecond to realize that you weren’t in your cot in the tent you shared with Garth and Dane, but rather in the infirmary where weapons weren’t allowed. 

You decided to do the next best thing. You used your body.

In a swift movement and without much hesitation you grabbed the thing - a person as you came to realize in that very moment - in front of you and used the momentum to turn both of you around, pinning him (as you still were the only woman on the base) down on the bed, straddling his waist and pressing your upper arm on what you expected to be his throat.

A soft chuckle resounded through the tent. In the next second, you were blinking against the white lights that illuminated the infirmary, realising that you were holding Billy in a tight grip. And worse, straddling him. 

As your senses were still on a high (heart beating fast and body frozen) you were unable to do anything else other than stare shocked at Billy.

“Gotta admit Frankie boy, you trained her well,” Billy smirked up at you, his hands going to your waist to support you a little bit and take the weight of your injured foot.

“Na,” Frank shook his head, “All that was already there. I just showed her how to properly use and manage her strengths. Reminded her of who she once was.” Frank approached you both from his place beside the entrance and gently pulled you away from Billy, who started to massage his neck as he slowly stood up.

Billy chuckled at that. “A clumsy girl?”

“Hey! Watch it or I beat your ass-”

“Again… was that what you wanted to say? Do I have to remind you that you didn't beat my ass last time? That's why I told you that there are less violent ways for you to see my backside.”

You had soon realized that flirting truly was Billy’s defence mechanism, just as Frank had said. And humour. Whenever something turned uncomfortable for him he either turned on his charms or tried to alleviate the situation by making some stupid remark.

You had also realized that Billy had been right. You were terribly out of shape. Everything had hurt the day after the game, but you had guessed it might also have had something to do with the fact that two grown-up men literally tackled you to the ground the day before.

So you had gone to Frank, because, obviously, you couldn’t give Billy the satisfaction (or more time with you) and had asked him to give you some training lessons. A little refresher of your earlier days. 

“Okay… What would you do if I did this to you?” Frank asked while cornering you against a wall and trapping you between it and his body, putting his hands on either side of your head.

“Really Frank. Are we really going to look at Self-Defense 101? I’m weak right now, not stupid. I remember the training.”

“Well, show me then.”

Sighing you looked him straight in the eyes as you punched your straight fingers into his ribcage under his left armpit, causing him to withdraw his left arm entirely. Then you punched your fist into his left rib cage that was now open to you, pushing him slightly away from you before punching his chin and knocking your head against his.

Tumbling a few steps back Frank caught himself quickly and grabbed you, hugging you from behind as you had already turned around to move away. “Not so quickly.”

“Do you really want me to give you a concussion?” you groaned, leaning closer into him and knocked your head back into his.

With a grunt, and while trying to regain his footing after stabilizing you due to the additional weight you put into his arms, Frank loosened his arms around you and you went for his right knee. 

Ducking down fast and sliding your hands down his leg to his foot you pulled it up before Frank could regain his balance, throwing him to the ground behind you. You quickly turned around and sat triumphantly on his stomach. 

“Satisfied?”

“It’s a beginning.”

“That’s enough Bill.” Frank's deep voice brought you back to the present. “She might be a little clumsy sometimes, but it’s clear that you can’t say anything against her senses.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on?”

“Kid, let’s be honest. I saw you tripping over nothing but thin air yesterday, somehow managing to injure your foot while doing that. And then you proceeded to fall face-first to the ground.” Frank said as he moved you to another unoccupied bed. Thank god you were the only one in the infirmary right now. Scoffing you rolled your eyes. 

“The ground wanted a hug! Not my problem you’re a heartless guy. Ever thought about the fact that it might not want to just be trampled on? And anyway,” you added after a short pause, “you heard them yesterday after you insisted on bringing me here. I’m fine! Just a misstep, nothing a good night's rest with limited movement wouldn’t fix… which well, is kind of the opposite of what you two just did.”

“Ah well, sorry ‘bout that. Colonel Schoonover wants to go over some strategic movements first thing in the morning. Thought you might want to get caught up with the most important details first.”

“Oh. I see. And both of you were needed to bring me a, and I quote, ‘clumsy girl’ up to date?”

“Oh no. I’m sure Billy, who very enthusiastically volunteered, will do that just fine. I just followed to make sure you don't kill each other. You are welcome by the way.” 

-

After that, you weren’t sure if you were actually becoming friends with Billy (because you didn’t actually need to ‘up your friend game’) or just accustomed to him because he was always there whenever you were doing something with Frank.

Granted, there were times when it was just you and Billy (and multiple other Marines). Like that one time when you were waiting for the showers to turn purple (a term the base had coined to show that it was your time to use the facilities without having to check your surroundings for possible men to appear and take a shower with you.... they had realized how bad it had sounded the moment they had said it to you.)

You had been waiting in front of the facility as there was still around 10 minutes before they would turn purple and Billy had decided to keep you company by starting to annoy you (you couldn't believe how incredibly childish he could be - he gave you wet willies!)

Nevertheless, you had grown close enough to him to tell him about your time as a foot soldier and how you had a knack for repairing stuff, especially cars and aeroplanes thanks to your father. That he had been a military mechanic and that, after your mother had died when you were a baby, he had taken you with him whenever he had to move or do something for the military. That you had practically grown up on military bases and that joining wasn’t even a question, it was the only valid option in your life. And that one day the Marines had asked you to join their new helicopter crew and you couldn't say no, as you had wanted to feel closer to your father who had died a few years prior.

You had also talked about how you never met in New York (or about how Frank skillfully managed to keep you both apart) and about the fact that you guys have the same call sign (well, he and your helicopter). 

That was apparently enough for Frank to give you the “I know I said, I know Maria said, but do not fall in love with him”-speech one night while you were sitting on Billy’s bed, enjoying some alone time with Frank after some hectic weeks of training and strategy meetings.

“Don’t worry,” you had said and patted his back, “you know that my heart belongs to the sky. And, well, to Pete.”

Little did you know that Billy had just entered the tent when you said that.

-

"- hell Y/L/N!”

“It was my pleasure. But you know, maybe next time you could just thank me, one might think you don’t have any manners.”

“You could have died out there!"

"It was a test run Garth. If anything, we would have died together. Also, here I was thinking taking risks is your life motto. I mean, isn’t your name practically Gar-'With some good food I can conquer everything?'-field?"

"With good food, you can conquer everything… and everyone," he winked at you, “because even though the saying goes 'The way to a man's heart goes through his stomach' this applies to women and everybody else as well!"

You laughed and clapped his back as you pushed aside the plastic tarpaulin and let him pass you before leaving the tent as well. 

"Sounds like you gotta invite me for dinner sometime, as soon as we're stateside again!"

"Sounds like it!"

Remembering that you had to get something from your cot you turned around to get it, but stopped in your movement when you caught a glimpse of Billy, his fist tightly shut and his eyes glaring after Garth. Realizing that you were watching him, he turned around and stomped over to his own tent.

-

This repeated itself on multiple occasions. You talking to a fellow Marine or crew member and Billy seeing it and getting angry. Sometimes you realized it, sometimes you didn’t. Like the time in front of the dining tent. 

One of the Marines, you didn’t even know his name, had waved you over to give you a piece of mail that had found its way to him instead of you (apparently your names were similar enough to confuse the guy who had distributed them), apologizing for opening it already. 

You had just shaken your head, saying it wasn’t his fault and had turned the envelope around, causing a beautiful ring hanging on a thin necklace to fall into your hands. Smiling at it while suppressing some tears that were threatening to leave your eyes you had looked up at him. “I doubt you would be caught wearing this anyway.”

Of course, your luck had it for Billy to see him giving you the envelope and the necklace and to disappear through another entrance into the mess hall before he was able to hear you thank the guy for bringing you the envelope.

-

And then there was that time when you were pretty sure that Billy had become more to you. You weren’t sure what exactly, but more.

A Skype call for you had come through during the day, which Billy who had just passed by, accepted and told the man on the other side of the screen to wait while he got you. Sticking around he had to admit that he felt a little green now that he knew that not only Frank but even you had someone waiting for them when they came back. He wasn’t near enough to hear what was being said, but near enough to see you touch the computer before the connection ended and see you starting to cry terribly after that and rushing away, making Billy think the guy just broke up with you.

Frank had found you shortly afterwards (after Billy had gone to him to tell him what had happened, not being a very touchy-feely guy but thinking you might want someone around). He had talked to you, asked what had happened and you had repeated yourself, telling him that “my heart belongs to the sky now. Everybody I ever loved has left me, even though I am the one risking my life every day.”

Frank had just hugged you closer telling you that wasn't true. That he, Maria and the kids would always be there for you, that you wouldn’t be able to get rid of them now, no matter how hard you tried.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, but then Billy had entered the tent, telling Frank that Maria was asking for a Skype call and Frank requested for Billy to stay with you. 

You both had stayed quiet for some time except for your sniffles and hiccups that came from you crying earlier.

“You shouldn’t be crying. You have more than enough men falling on their knees for you.”

Confused you had lifted your head to look at him through teary eyes. “What?” “You shouldn’t be crying because of Pete. I heard Garth inviting you on a dinner date as soon as you’re both on leave again and saw the Marine in Frank’s squad giving you the neck-”

You had started to laugh at that. “Wait what? Please don’t tell me that you’re jealous!” 

“No! Just… just annoyed I guess. I get called ‘Billy the Beaut’ and get called out on my shit and… and then you come along and you’re allowed to dance on all of our noses?” 

You had snorted, wiping your nose on your T-Shirt sleeve. “Welcome to the world of a woman. As normally it's the other way around. Doesn't feel nice, right?” You had chuckled sarcastically. “Anyway, who’s Pete?” 

“Who’s… Who’s Pete? Your boy-, well, your now ex-boyfriend? The guy who just broke up with you over Skype?” 

Being reminded of that Skype call had hurt you, but you had laughed anyway. His stupid conclusions and obvious obliviousness had helped you think of other things. “I might have kissed a Pete once, but I might have lost the memo that he was my boyfriend because as far as I know, I never had one.” 

“But the man-” 

“Was my cousin's doctor and now close friend due to the time we had to spend together.” 

“But you told Frank something about your heart and Pete. Wait, was?”

Of course, he had heard that. “Pete's another name for our bird. Yes, our callsign is Blackbird, but the guys call him Pete and I guess it stuck. And yes, was. He just called me to tell me that my cousin died of cancer. No… please. I don’t need your condolences. I’ve been around death for quite a while. It feels almost normal already.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“I know… but what can I do? I cried and now I have to stand up and make sure that we don’t meet too quickly again, that's what she would want.” 

After that you both had sat there, quiet again, shoulder against shoulder, staring at the green plastic of the tent. Never realising that Billy, however unpleasant that situation might've been for him, never searched for a way out of it.

•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist:

@blackbirddaredevil23 @runawayolives @readingslumpfanfic @broadwaybabe18 @thetallassgirl​

Join my taglist!

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Fifteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Fourteen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Sixteen

Marnie pov.

I walk into the record company, finding a very young guy at the front desk, probably the intern. Encumbered with phone calls and notes, I wait for him to finish everything before speaking. His lost eyes soon find me and he smiles sympathetically.

“Hi Marnie, Luke is in studio three.” he whispers quickly, getting back on the phone.

I smile in thanks, heading down the hallway he's pointed out. I didn't think it would be so easy. The noise coming from behind the door to studio three startles me. The boys are laughing and screaming so loud, it amazes me that no one came to complain.

I knock on the door twice, hard, to try to get their attention over that area. A guy in a cap opens the door, revealing a room with at least eight people inside.

Luke is the first to jump out of his chair, coming over to me, grinning hugely, pulling me into the room. Ash gets up too, following close behind.

“Sorry for interrupting, but I needed to talk to you.” I look at Luke, who agrees. I pull him out of the room as I hear Irwin complain.

"A disregard for my friendship. Before, she used to come here to see me, not to see you, you empty-headed bunch.”

"She never came to see you." Hood opposes.

I ignore the pre school fight, focusing on the tall blonde in front of me. I lean against the wall, letting him get closer.

Luke had spent Friday night with me, taking care of me. We also spent Saturday morning together, just existing on the couch. That was definitely a very good point for both of us and it really strengthened our relationship. It also didn't make him leave my thoughts, earning him the title of the cutest guy I know.

Never would Stephen do that to me, even because when I was bad he didn't even come close, not wanting to “catch my bad energy”.

“You forgot that at home.” I give his coat, trying to hide it was against my will deliver it so easily.

I saw the coat the second Hemmo left the house, but when the perfume enveloped me, I decided for my own good, to just keep it for a little while, spending day and night in it. Luke stares at me with a raised eyebrow before taking the coat from my hands, smiling.

“Funny, I really missed it, but yesterday, I saw it in your stories, so I didn't worry anymore.” I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat up. "Let me enjoy that you still don't hate me today."

“Too late.” I interrupt him, biting my lip.

"I wonder if I can pick you up, so we can go to the Troubadour together."

The boys are playing there today, for the Friends of Friends event, and I was particularly excited, it would be the first time I would see them play live. “First time”.

I wrinkle my forehead and look around, pretending I was thinking about it. Luke looks at me in disbelief, holding back his laughter. I pout, shaking my head.

"I think you can! Yes, you can. I allow.” I press my lips together, wanting not to laugh.

“Oh God, you.” he shakes his head, looking away. I let out my laugh. "Can I pick you up at 7pm? I need to be at the Troubadour at least an hour before the show.”

“Of course! No problems. Go! Now I need to talk to Ash.” I push him back to the door.

“It's about my birthday, isn't it?” he opens an excited smile.

I dissolve my expression, wanting to hit him. Damn it, he knows. I feel the surprise party going straight down the drain, but I don't want to give in to it.

“No! The world doesn't revolve around you, Hemmings.” I cross my arm, teasing him.

“It's about my birthday! Alright, I'm going to pretend I don't know anything.” he takes two leaps into place happily.

“My God, I hate you.” I hide my face, sighing. I can't believe he screwed up his own surprise party.

“Hey.” I hear his voice close. I take my hands away from my face, finding his very close. His lips steal a kiss from me, quickly.

“Go away!” I pick up my bag, hitting him.

Luke walks into the studio laughing, yelling at Ash that I've been waiting. I walk around the hallway, wanting to wipe the stupid smile off my face. I hide my face again, returning to the scene that just happened about 50 times, at least.

“Say it!” Ash approaches.

“I hate him!” I point to the studio, taking a deep breath.

“Of course you do! And the sky is green. I can see how much you hate him, by that silly smile on your face.” Irwin raises an eyebrow.

"Don't make me use my purse against you too." I scare away the latest happenings, focusing on what mattered. "Do you have the ring?" he hands me a silver ring set with a black stone.

“Quickly, because he's already noticed he's gone.” I nod, still analyzing the jewelry.

"I'm going right now and tonight I'll return you at the Troubadour." I keep the piece in my bag. "All set for Friday?" he nodded. "You know he knows, don't you? How did he find out?”

“Behind that stupid face, he's smart sometimes.” I roll my eyes at my friend, laughing. “Seriously, if you pay attention, sometimes it feels like there's an elevator song playing in his head. Especially when he's standing staring at something.” I laugh when Ash decides to imitate Luke, staring blankly at the wall.

“You guys are terrible. Well, I'll be on my way, see you later.” I give a kiss on his cheek.

Thursday is Luke's birthday and I, more than anyone, want it to be a perfect day. Also, I want to give him a nice present that somehow doesn't involve my body, as I apparently did before.

Searching the internet, I found a store in east LA that sold some jewelry that I thought would be to his taste. I was going after a box with five rings and three necklaces, which looked like they were made for Luke.

If I could, I would advance the time, just to give the gift soon. I just want to see his face and hope he likes it the way I think it will.

I walk past reception, waving goodbye to the poor receptionist who still seemed tangled up with the phones. Interns.

"Marnie?" I turn around when I hear my name. The man in the dress shirt, who had just passed me, approaches smiling.

“Yes?” I look at him confused.

“Of course, you don't remember. Sorry! I'm John, 5sos’ tour manager. How are you?”

“Oh! I'm great, thanks.” I soften my posture. Being Luke's girlfriend, I must have seen John a thousand times.

"It was quite a scare. I'm relieved you're okay.” I smile gratefully at the concern. "Would you have a minute for us to talk?"

Luke pov.

I lean against the car, waiting for Marnie to get out. I take a deep breath, trying not to let the anxiety get the better of me. We've practically spent the weekend together, we're getting closer, she's letting her guard down with every second we spend together, letting me fight to win her back, and yet here I am, shaking like a stick, as if it was the first time we went out together.

"Pathetic!" I say to myself, not accepting being like this.

We dated for two years, it's not like she was a stranger. I know her better than she does. I already know everything she likes, how she's going to react to every move I make and even then, I'm terrified of doing something wrong.

When I realized I was falling in love again with every detail of her, I didn't think that insecurity would come back with it. In fact, I thought it would be better than the first time, that I would be more confident and secure. But it’s Marnie I'm talking about, she eliminates any security and logic in me.

I twirl the little ring through my fingers, noticing how cold and sweaty my hand was. Yes, that human being not five feet tall, can mess with me.

I hear the door unlock, prompting me to put the ring away quickly. Marnie steps in front of me, walking around with open arms. I give her the dumbest smile.

“So? Am I OK?” she stretches out her Friends of Friends hoddie proudly.

"You look spectacular." I sigh, feeling my heart race.

"Not really, it was a little old thing that was in the back of my closet." she laughs, sounding like her mother last week. I blink a few times, trying to disguise the stupid face I must be making.

“You really look fantastic.” I say before holding her body against mine. I sink my nose into her neck, taking in all of her scent, letting into my bloodstream, fueling the butterflies in my stomach, along with the touch of her skin against mine, even with the clothes between us.

I ease my grip, releasing her, but her body remains pinned to mine and she pulls me back, squeezing me tighter. The action takes me by surprise. Not that I didn't want to hold her, I could live the rest of my life here, in her arms. But that indicated something was wrong.

“Is it everything OK?” I whisper, overcome with worry. Marnie just nods, affirming, or rather lying to me. She's not fine.

Her body pulls away and I see a sad glint in her eyes. My body tenses, seeing that fake smile take her lips, unlike the one she gave just minutes ago. My face hardens, realizing she was acting.

“Marnie…” I start my speech to say that she could tell me anything, but she interrupts me.

“We're late, we need to go. Let's go!” she dodges around me, heading for the car door.

I sigh, seeing that I won't be able to get anything out of her today. As far as I know, she doesn't want to spoil the night and will hold it off until the end. I hate when she does that. Keep everything to herself, without the slightest need, we can share the problem and even the pain, that's what a couple does, they support each other.

We left the building, taking the expressway to get there faster. Marnie babbles about her excitement to see the band play live. Normally, I love to hear and see her talk too much. Seeing her eyes flashing rapidly, her tongue getting tangled up in some difficult word, or seeing her start to laugh before she can get the funny part out. Her clumsy hands, moving quickly until she managed to drop something.

But now, I can only move my head automatically, still with my mind on her bad performance from before. Until this morning everything was fine, she was excited and happy. Until minutes ago she was happy. But now it's just a facade covering something I can't quite make out what it is.

She didn't argue with Leah, because the gossip didn't get through to me, and I'm sure Noah would have let me know by now, so we can set the process for the two of them to make up. I didn't see anything on the internet that could have messed with her. Unless something happened during the photo shoot.

"Luke?" I look quickly at her, who was looking at me amused. “Are you OK?” now she was the one asking.

“Yeah! Sorry, I daydreamed a bit. Thinking about everything I need to do getting there. What did you say?” I try to push my worry away, focusing solely on her, which is what I cared about.

"I asked if you're going to play my song?" my cheeks heat up. She knows?

"What song?" I question carefully.

“The one made for me, Amnesia.” I stop at the light, staring at her mischievous smile. This one is not fake.

"You didn't make that joke." I say disappointed. Marnie laughs beside me. “I refuse to accept that you made such a horrible joke. Marnie, you were not like that.” I shake my head.

“It was good, you can't deny it.” she pulls my hand into her lap. I freeze from the movement, feeling my skin tingle.

“It was terrible and it insults me somehow. I taught you wonderful jokes.” her fake, forced laugh catches my attention as I accelerate.

"I hear your jokes are horrible." I look quickly at her, who's sitting sideways, her head leaning back against the bench. Shit, she is so beautiful.

“This is a huge lie.” her laugh fills the car again.

The mood gets better the rest of the way. I still have my mind hammering at that moment, but I leave it for later, as she probably would. We entered through the back of the Troubadour, meeting everyone in the hallway and dressing room.

I hold her hand, pulling her close to me as we walk into the crowd. As I expected, M&Ms become the center of everything, everyone wants to say hello to her and see if she really was okay. I leave her for a few seconds in everyone's company, pulling Ashton and Leah aside.

"Do you guys know if something happened to Marnie?" They deny it. "Didn't you discuss?"

“No! In fact, I'm missing it.” Leah turns her face away, watching M&Ms laugh among the crowd. “What there was?” she looks at me again. I resume the scene for the two of them.

“She was fine when she left the record company.” Ash reinforces my thinking.

"I didn't know anything about today's photo shoot." Leah adds. "You don't think Stephen might have shown up again, do you? Or even that bitch? Bethany?” I shake my head.

Stephen had to be really, really dumb to show up to Marnie after she said she knew everything. And Bethany never tried to talk to her after what happened, I doubt she would try now.

“I'm sure she doesn't want to say anything yet so as not to spoil the night, we know how she is.” Leah rolls her eyes, she also hates such an attitude. “But later on, she might tell what happened and right away it will be with one of the three of us.”

"If she says anything later, I'll talk to you." Hastings warns.

I thank the brunette, who quickly rejoins Marnie. I watch her extend her still-in-a-cast arm for them to sign in the few empty spaces.

I quickly prepare for the show so I can stay with her for a few more seconds before taking the stage. I position myself behind her, who was sitting on the arm of the sofa, letting her body lean against mine. I watch for her hand moving up to her shoulder, placing it under mine. I drop a kiss to her pink hair, watching her lean her head back further, looking up at me with a beautiful smile.

Shit, I'm so in love with her.

Minutes after a lot of mess, we got ready for the stage. Marnie comes to me before running to their place. I adjust the guitar, opening my arms to her, who comes bouncing.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask, laughing, looking at her rosy cheeks.

“Just a little.” It hangs around my neck. “I promise not to pick a fight with anyone." she laughs.

“Thanks! I feel more relaxed.”

“Good show!” she wish me, stealing a kiss like I did earlier.

Marnie escapes my arms like sand, running to the door and running away hand in hand with Leah. I rub my face hard, not accepting how she can move me so much.

I approach the guys, doing our circle like every time we go on stage.

The lights blind me for a few seconds and soon I can see that sea of ​​people ecstatic to see us there. Ashton takes the lead, thanking everyone in advance for their presence and explaining why we're there.

I position myself at the microphone, ready to start singing Youngblood. Before I give the cue, I look upstairs, seeing her cotton candy hair watching me with a mixture of admiration and sadness. I blink at her, who smiles lightly and without strength. I play the chord, trying to focus my attention on the show and the new song I'm going to sing for her next, but all that goes around my head is: What's going on, Marnie?

OMG! Luke's new music video, am I right?

[soldrawss]

Does Big Bro!Mikey AU have an april or no? I think it would be nice for Mikey to have a bff april!!

April is a part of this au, yes! She started out as just a classmate of Mikey’s, they had the same homeroom in high school before Mikey dropped out the summer before his Junior year. They hadn’t really kept in contact, mostly because she only knew him by proxy (Mikey was nice and friendly to everyone, April of course included, but they didn’t have much in common, and their main friend groups were different, so they didn’t hang out much) and when Mikey all but disappeared without an explanation, she kinda just figured he moved or something, and left it at that, not giving him any thought for the next three years.

That is, until she meets him again, in the halls of Hunter College, looking like he was gonna collapse at any minute, which he kinda does, into an empty bench at the schools outside cafe and lounge area. April waffles for a few seconds, because ‘holy shit is that Mike Hamato?’ before biting the bullet and making her way over to say, “Hey, Michael right? Hi, it’s been a while. It’s April, we had homeroom together freshman and sophomore year. I haven’t seen you since Savanti Romero’s pool party. How are you?” And his smile is a slow, automatic thing at first, more out of common politeness than anything else, but then it grows into something much more genuine and glacier melting when he responds back, “April, hey, yeah, hi! Wow, has it really been that long? Man, it seems like just yesterday you were fishing Mondo and me out of the pool after one too many chicken fights. It’s good to see you!”

And catching up seemed so easy, April was almost surprised they hadn’t been better friends in high school. Though, she suspected that was mostly due to Mikey’s incredibly easy charm and naturally inviting warmth. (Dude could make friends with just about anyone)

He was a little different than how she remembered, a little more weather-worn and tired, a kinda weariness that hung off his shoulders like heavyweights. But there was still a bright shine to those penny-colored eyes, and when he smiled, it was with all the dimples and joy that she remembers so clearly from when she was 15. Holding back a laugh at the Hamato kid that was preforming springing handstands across the cafeteria just to draw attention away from the impending fight between two of their more hotheaded classmates and ease the tension out of the air in a ridiculous but effective manner.

She doesn’t ask why he left high school, it doesn’t really occur to her to ask, but after 2 hours of talking (April not even realizing she was missing her history class because she was so caught up in their catching up) he offers the information anyway.

His dad died. When he was barely 16, and he was left alone with 3 baby brothers and no other family that could help take care of them, and oh my god, he just dropped out of school to get his GED like it was the most common thing in the world and he went to work, what, 2, sometimes 3 jobs just to make enough money to support them all and April didn’t mean for tears to start pooling up because that so wasn’t fair to Mikey at all, if anyone should be crying, it should be him, but Mikey just looks a little shy and bashful about it all. “It was hard, but we got through it. And hey, now I’m working at like, this really prestigious Italian restaurant, super classy and everything! And they pay me more than I’m probably worth, but I’ll get my culinary degree in like a year, and then after that, a lot of things will change,” He says like everything in the world is just that easy, handing April a few tissues from his book bag and giving her one of those genuine, if not a little crooked, smiles of his.

Mikey promises to have lunch with her again (because April absolutely refuses to let this dandelion haired lunatic walk away from her life a second time and practically demands that they hang out again) since they both have the same free time before their respective classes at the college, and makes a show of saving her number with probably a few too many emojis as a contact name just to make her smile.

And what turned into a promise for another lunch date turned into almost a daily routine, them having lunch together on the bench, talking about classes and teachers and jobs and April’s problematic little kitten she affectionately named Mayhem and Mikey’s little brothers who are probably equally as problematic but he doesn’t have a say in what their names are, and things are fun and casual between Hamato and her.

That is, until two months later, when April gets a call from Mikey at 5pm on a Saturday.

“Donnie’s sick,” Mikey says almost breathlessly, and even without the context, April was already springing to her feet just at the sheer tension and concern in Mikey’s voice, like a taught wire about to snap. “I can’t get off work for another few hours, but I don’t want to leave him by himself with a fever. And I know this is like, putting you on the spot and really awkward and you can totally say no if you want to, but I don’t know who else to call and,-”

“Mike, it’s ok. Breathe hun,” April is saying, not unkindly pushing Mayhem off her lap and reaching for her backpack off the floor in her dorm room, stuffing a few random things in it before grabbing her jacket and her car keys off the counter. “Text me your address. I’ll be over there in 5 minutes tops.”

And it’s more of a promise than a fact, because his building is technically 20 minutes away from hers, but April makes it in 10 just by spite alone (and maybe driving a little recklessly downtown) and knocks on the door of the little apartment on the 6th floor, unit 404.

It takes a hesitant second, but then the door lock clicks open and April is greeted by warm brown eyes and a freckled face that reminds April so much of Mikey that it takes her almost a full 10 seconds before she introduces herself with an automatic smile. “Hi sweetheart, I’m April. I’m a friend of your older brother Mikey.”

Raphael, if April remembered Mikey’s brothers correctly, didn’t really need much convincing to let April in after she mentioned he was a friend of Mikey's, and doesn’t hesitate to pull her into their little apartment, leading her to the bedroom that the twins share with a small but tight little fist around hers.

“Mikey called and said you were coming. Leo’s atah sleepover, but Donnie’s in here. His head’s still hot and his voice is all scratchy, even though I made sure that he took the medicine Mikey left out. And he won’t eat anything I give him,” the 7-year-old reports diligently, much more mature than April had expected from the young child. 

April’s been babysitting since she was 11, and considering how all the neighborhood kids around her block adore her, she likes to think that she’s got a pretty solid Ph.D. in knowing how to take care of a sick pre-teen who wants nothing to do with her. So the heavy-lidded and red-eyed glare that Donatello shoots at her from under his covers is duly noted but otherwise ignored as she gently knocks on the door and slowly follows a much less hesitant Raphael into the bedroom.

It takes a while, a long while, for Donatello, no, Donnie, to warm up to her, but he gets there eventually, with the help of Raphael, Raph, who’s hanging off of Aprils shoulders, having warmed up to her almost immediately simply because ‘any friend of Mikey’s is a friend of ours Dee! Don’t be mean and eat some soup!’

After realizing that Donnie just had a little cold, and was in no real danger even with a fever, Raph seemed to cheer up immensely, and was more than willing to help answer all of April’s questions about what medicine Donnie had taken, any allergies, the last time he ate, and even helped her make some egg drop soup since they didn’t have enough ingredients of chicken noodle, which Donnie put up a fight about, but eventually took after one look of Raph’s puppy dog eyes.

Donnie was out like a light 15 minutes later, after taking some night time cough medicine and April sent a reassuring text to Mikey two hours later when his fever finally broke, to which Mikey replied with an explosion of heart emoji’s that April couldn’t rightly decipher other than he was happy about it.

Mikey got home at 11 that night, and April had to flag him down quietly from where she sat trapped under a sleeping, pj clad Raph on the couch; a Jupiter Jim movie marathon playing on the tv. 

“Thank you so much, April,” Mikey said to her in the kitchen 20 minutes later, handing her a cup of hot tea. He had efficiently plucked Raph off of April’s lap like a pro with years of experience, putting him into his own bed before checking on a still sleeping Donnie, whose face was no longer a burnt red from his fever earlier. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I don’t get my paycheck till next week, so I can’t really pay you right now, but I brought home some chocolate mousse cake from my work that you can have until I can-” “You didn’t tell me you worked at Huesso’s!” April didn’t shout, because there were two kids sleeping down the hallway, as she grabbed the bag Mikey had offered to her. “Dude, their deserts are like, crazy good! I love their cheesecake, but they’re stupid expensive and you have to get a reservation like, 4 months in advance to get in.” And April uses the change in topics as a distraction because there was no way she’d let Mikey try to pay her for helping out, she didn’t even want that to be an option. April didn’t do this for the money. She wanted to help out Mikey out. She liked Mikey. She thought he was funny and charming and had a heart big enough to cradle the entire world if he was as big as all the love he has. And she adored being around his baby brothers.

April grins at Mikey when she opens the box, and slides her finger over the glossy frosting of the cake and licks her fingers of the chocolatey goodness before she says, “Listen, if I could convince you to bring me home deserts from this place, then I’ll hang out with the boys anytime you want me too. You have my number, literally call me anytime, for any reason, and I’m here.”

[oshbluepacific]

Where Have You Been?

Type: Angst/Fluff

Character: DO Kyungsoo x Reader

Words Counted: 2k+ Words

May contain strong language

MASTERLIST

“You’re out of your damn mind.” You said rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen with an empty glass in your hand. “You’re just not listening to me (Y/N)!” Your boyfriend stood up from the couch and walked behind you.

This was another typical-fight-night that you’re having almost everyday now, and you’re just getting tired of the fights. “Can’t you just listen to me for once?!” Your boyfriend suddenly raised his voice. “Can’t you just understand me for once?!” You fired back.

At this point, your argument just escalated. It got so heated, it went to the point where you just couldn’t take it anymore. “Whatever… i’m going out.” You told him, using past him walking towards the hall. Just before you could reach the door, a hand was grasped on your arm, pulling you roughly back, you almost fell to the floor. “You’re not going anywhere, we’re not done talking!” “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you just hear how you talk? You’re practically screaming at me!” You told him. “It’s because you’re just difficult! Stop being fucking stubborn!” “You’re mad at me for being with Kyungsoo, but you don’t see me complaining about you with other girls.” You pointed out. You saw your boyfriend’s boiling face, and how you really pushed the wrong—but right button. Before you could say anything further, you felt a hand swung across your face. You could feel your cheek sting as your breath gotten heavy. You turn to face your boyfriend and his expression was covered with guilt. “(Y/N)—I—“ “I want all of your things out of here, when I return… And I also want you to not come back.” You can even hear the pain in your own voice. You stopped as you opened the door and looked back at him with bloodshot eyes. “You never wanted to fix your issue, you never like it when i point out your mistakes, you never want me to complain who you’re hanging out with, you constantly flirt with girls as a joke and you always pointed out my mistakes and make me change.” You ranted. “Now… look where it made us to.” You said with a  shrug. He just stood there in silence. “(Y/N), i—“ “Save your sorry… we’re done…” You told him. “I want your things out of my place when i came back.” You continued. You took the keys that was hanging from the coat hanger before walking our your apartment.

It is your place, but you didn’t feel like staying in a room where it still has a negative vibes in it. You needed some air to breathe in, you needed and ocean between you and your boyfriend—or you rephrase him to ex-boyfriend now.

You needed to see Kyungsoo.

When the elevator door closes, you leaned your back against the marble wall and fished out your phone from you pocket. With tears streaming down your face and uncontrollable sobbing, you sent Kyungsoo a short text.

For: DKS

hey, I’m on my way to you.

After you sent the text, you shut your eyes closed as you pressed your lips together tightly, biting into it. Then you felt your phone vibrated in your hand and it was a reply from Kyungsoo.

From: DKS

I’m still at work, but it’s okay just come over. You know where I hide keys are right? I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll see you soon. :)

You let out a sigh of relive, and a smile appeared on your face, but tears were still streaming down like a river.

You—in a millions of years— would never thought that the person you loved the most would ever hurt you. Emotionally, or even physically. Arguments are not rare in your relationship recently, but this must be the peak of everything. The argument always starts with something that is simply so stupid, but then it escalated to something that doesn’t relate to anything that started the argument.

You got into your car and started the engine, but you didn’t have the courage to step on the gas.

“Aargh!” You let out a frustrating scream, punching the steering wheel before you could break down crying. Leaning your forehead against he steer. looking up at the rearview mirror, you looked like a total disaster. A red mark as visible on the side of your cheek. your fingertips slowly touched it and it stings and it hurts, even when you moved your mouth. you took two deep breaths before you could gas your car and drive away. As you passed the lobby of your apartment building, you saw the man you once loved, with a box in his hands and a bag over his shoulder. He looked out the grey clouds before the sound of thunder rolled in. He looked around the open parking lot and his eyes caught the sight of your car. despite your blurry vision, you could see his puffy eyes. He dropped everything onto the ground and started hurdling towards your car. You stepped on the gas and drove away. You could hear him cry your name but you just ignored it and kept on driving.

Kyungsoo lives a bit far from the crowded city. Just a little bit above the hills where you can see the complete city space. You’ve always loved Kyungsoo’s “zen” home. He lives alone, but he always welcomed his family and friends to stay with him. His house was minimalistic—modern, but there was still a hind of traditional in it.

When you reached the gate of his house, you honked the horn twice before a man peered from inside the guard house and opened the gate automatically. You gave the guard a small smile before you could drive in and parked your car near the garage. Turning the engine off, you then got out of your car before walking up towards the front door. There were pots of plants on the side of the door. You crouched down close to the plants, lifting each heavy—and light plants, reaching for the keys that Kyungsoo always left. once you got found it, you stood back up and fumbled through the keys to open the door.

Another thing you loved about Kyungsoo’s residence is that even though he lives alone, he always kept his place neat, clean and fresh. When you stepped inside it was a bit dark, so you turn the lights before kicking your shoes off. The first thing you did was walk towards the living room and opened the glass door, overviewing the swimming pool and the city landscape. As the wind hits your face, you can feel the sense of tickle and sting on the side of your cheek. you went back inside, walking up the stairs towards Kyungsoo’s bedroom. You can smell his strong mint scent as you walked in and switched the lights on. Like you expected, it was neat and tidy. You walked towards his closet to find all dark coloured clothing. Black t-shirts were stacked together, and a few black sweaters were hung inside the closet. You opened one of the drawers where Kyungsoo kept his fresh and clean towels and took it before walking towards the bathroom and rinse the towel with cold water before slowly pressing it against your cheek. You hissed as the cold water touches your cheek.

“You’re mad at me for being with Kyungsoo, but you don’t see me complaining about you with other girls.”

You were taunted by your own words from the fight you had earlier. You didn’t think, you didn’t filter the words that you wanted to say. But it was from the bottom of your heart, and the truth. You haven’t been hanging out with Kyungsoo lately, due to his busy schedule and your ex’s sudden plans. You noticed how everytime you told your ex that you had plans with Kyugnsoo, days before, he would have plans arranged with you that you just couldn’t refuse to. But in some occasions, you were left alone, and he was with his friends. It was almost like he didn’t want you to be anywhere near Kyungsoo. But once you were settled in, at home, no plans at all but paperwork and take outs, some of your friends and his friends talked about who your ex is with and what he’s doing. To your surprise, one of his friends had told you that he kissed a random girl at a victory party, but you didn’t cry, you didn’t act up you just… stay silent. It hurts you, but you just kept it, and played stupid as if it never happened and your never heard of it. Yesterday, you did went out with Kyungsoo to celebrate your friend’s new coffee shop. And you ex was furious, because he suddenly made a dinner reservation but you stand on your choice of not going with him, and stick to the plan you had with Kyungsoo.

And then today, he came to argue.

You turned your heel and walked out from Kyungsoo’s bedroom. You walked down the stairs and you heard the door being shut. You froze on where you stand and just stare blankly at a  space. “(Y/N)…” It was Kyungsoo. “(Y/N)—Oh god! you scared me!” He startled as he walked into the room. “Hey…” You greeted him with a small smile. “I got some food since I haven’t eat all day, and I got you some as well.” He said as he put the paper bags on the coffee table. He was surprised when he turned around to have you suddenly hugging him, burying your face onto his chest. “Hey…” His voice became softer as he placed his hands on your back, wrapping your securely in his arms. “Are you okay?” He asked. You shook your head and then Kyungsoo slowly took you to his couch. “What’s wrong?” He asked. You pulled away from his chest, meeting his clear brown eyes. “Don’t be mad…” “I don’t know what I should be mad about…” He told you, his eyes searching for something in you. You let out a sigh before slowly removing the towel from the side of your face. Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and he started to examine your cheek. “What happened?” He asked you. “I got into an argument with (Y/EX/N), and then, things escalated really quick and then he just…” You told him, not being able to finish. “You don’t have to tell the rest…” Kyungsoo told you, pulling you into a hug. You burst into tears in Kyungsoo’s arms.

Kyungsoo is one of your best friends, your 911 call, your human diary, your comforting arms when you need. You missed him—being near you, it’s a been a while since you last saw Kyungsoo, because of his busy schedule and also your ex’s-sudden-plans.

“I miss you Soo…” You cried on his chest, and you could feel him chuckling. “I know baby, I know… I miss you too.” He told you, only to hold you tighter.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Kyungsoo can encourage you to eat because he was hungry as well. He went out for a bit but told you to stay in. When he came back, he brought tube of ice-cream, an ice pack and also ointment for your cheek. He brought his blankets down from his room and made you stay for the night. Whenever you get quiet he would come up with something to talk about other than remembering what happened prior today. But, he lets you rant about it, he lets you give out all of your emotions, and he listens to you carefully.

When you’re around Kyungsoo, you truly feel like yourself, you didn’t have to hid your emotions, you’re completely transparent whenever you’re with him. You love yourself whenever you’re around him.

Healing from this might take time, but some of the times you could’t help but with for Kyungsoo to be the one who will love you for who you are.

[daybreak-delusion]

Chapter 7

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems. 

Series Masterlist 

Previous Chapter

After the long walk home I took a shower, finally, and went straight to bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day and I was ready for some sleep. Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t awakened by the annoying sound of a lawnmower. I took a shower to clean off my sleep and changed into some shorts and a simple blouse. The one good thing about the humidity is that it was making my normally frizzy curly hair look normal. Back in my room after looking around at my mess, I decided that would be a cleaning day. I put on my headphones and shuffled my cleaning playlist and got to work. I started with my room, unpacking my bags, finally, and organizing my clothes in the closet. Then I moved to the bathroom, cleaning the mirrors, countertops, and disinfecting the shower and toilet with some cleaner I found in the kitchen. I spent three seconds debating whether or not to go into Grandmother’s room and then turned into the living room. I vacuumed, dusted, and disinfected some more. The kitchen was the worst, I kept sneezing from all of the dust when Fernando by ABBA came on. Oh my god, this was my song. I picked up a spoon and pretended to sing to my adoring fans. 

“There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!” I was practically screaming by the time the chorus came on, dancing to the beat like a maniac. 

“They were shining there for you and me for liberty-” 

“Hey, sunshine!” yelled a voice from behind me. Screaming I turned around and saw JJ leaning against the back door frame. He was wearing the same tacky shorts as yesterday and a white t-shirt with some fishing company logo on it. 

“How long have you been standing there?” I said, taking off my headphones blush creeping on to my face. 

“Not long, I’m here to pick the lemons and just need to get a bag,” explained JJ walking towards the pantry getting a reusable bag out. 

“Oh right do you need any help?” 

“Oh no I’m good, wouldn't want to cut your little concert short.” 

“Ha, ha,” I laughed sarcastically, “be sure to bring them back, I’m thinking of trying Grandmother's lemonade recipe.” 

“Really?” he stopped before heading out the door giving me a quizzical look. 

“Yeah, I was thinking about making a batch for good measure.” 

“Well good luck with that, Vicky was really particular about the way she made her lemonade.” 

“Oh, I think I can handle a little lemonade.”

“If you say so, I’ll be in the greenhouse,” he said humming the chorus of Fernando on his way out the door.  When he left I shook off my embarrassment and I turned back to dusting the shelves. After a while, I realized how hungry I was. The only food that I’ve had was dinner last night with the Camerons and the only food in the house was some stale saltine crackers and beer, which was kinda concerning but I tried not to look too into it. One thing was for sure, I needed food. Like now. Thankfully just as I was about to try my luck with the saltines, JJ walked back in with a bag full of lemons. 

“I only got about 10 this batch but next week we should get about triple,” said JJ walking in through the back door. He placed the bag on the counter and reached into the fridge to grab a beer. 

“Thank you, also do you by any chance know of anywhere to eat?” 

“Um yeah my friend’s family owns a restaurant, it’s called The Wreck, they got great sandwiches. It’s about two miles into town.” 

“Sounds perfect, you want anything?” 

“Uh no, no I’m good just tell Kie I said hi,” he said taking a swing of his beer as he walked towards the back door. 

“Do you ever drink water?” I asked. 

“Not if I can help it sunshine,” he replied with a wink walking out the door. 

That boy was going to die of liver failure if he kept his drinking habits up. A problem he’d have to deal with. In the meantime I needed food. That’s how my search for transportation started. No way was I gonna ask for a ride from Rafe and I’m pretty sure JJ just materializes everywhere, so I had to either walk or find another way. 

Another thing I was oblivious too when I first arrived was the garage to the left of the house. Hopefully, Grandmother left a bike or even a skateboard for me. I walked the dirt path to the old little garage. It’s kinda how I imagined what the house would have looked like if I’m being honest. It was even more faded yellow then the house with a rusty white painted garage door. Cobwebs were everywhere. I was terrified that I would have to encounter the creatures that made them. I was half expecting the handle to fall off when I pulled the door up. It opened with an ear-piercing screech and a cloud of dust. When I stopped coughing my lungs out I saw it. A vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle with a rack on top for surfboards surrounded by at least 50 cardboard boxes. I just stared at it for a few seconds admiring the car. I’m not exactly an expert on automobiles or whatever, but something about vintage cars really got me going. On the left of the garage was a bulletin board with a couple of keys tacked to it labeled with different things. I found the one that said car and prayed that the thing would start. The outside of the car was covered in dust, but thankfully the inside was a little cleaner. The only problem was that the car was a stick. Now I haven't driven stick in two years. Grandmother always said any person with a brain could drive automatic, but it took a real driver to learn stick. It was a miracle the car started in the first place and all I had to do was pray I remembered how to drive it. 

I only stalled a couple of times in the beginning, but eventually got in the grove of changing the gears. As I drove I was hoping I was imagining it but people seemed to be looking at my car as if it were on fire. I’m pretty sure I would know if my car was on fire or not so I kept going. Eventually, I found the little restaurant and pulled into a parking spot. The Wreck was just preparing for rush hour when I walked in. The floor was worn by the many footsteps that had walked into this establishment. The walls were decorated with pictures that looked as old as the restaurant and stickers from different surf shops and fishing companies. What I noticed most of all was the salty and intoxicating smell of freshly made french fries. I was practically salivating when a girl about my age approached me. 

“Welcome to The Wreck, what can I get for you,” she said with a tired, but genuine smile. She had her dark curly hair tied up in a messy bun with an old gray headband keeping her flyaways out of her face and was wearing a dark green bikini top under her tank top with the logo of the restaurant on it. 

“Hi, I hear you guys got great sandwiches,” I replied. If my instincts were correct this girl was Kie, JJ’s friend. 

“Yeah, we got tuna, turkey, roast beef, and our specialty lobster.” 

“Do you actually have any vegetarian options?” 

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian? So am I!” she said with a little more energy in her voice. 

“Yeah have been for the past two years.” 

“Wow I started about three years ago and am trying to make the switch to veganism.” 

“Good for you!” 

“Thank you! Most of my friends make fun of me for it, but I just can't stand the thought of eating a living creature. Anyways just one vegetarian sandwich?” 

“Yes please and some fries as well, also I’m sorry if this is too weird to ask , but are you Kie by any chance?” 

“Uhh yeah how did you know that?” she replied giving me a look that said, “who is this weirdo and how does she know my name?” 

“Okay cool, I’m Whitney and your friend JJ works… I mean worked for my grandmother.” 

“Oh my god, no way your Vicky’s granddaughter of course!” she said the look she was giving me melting into a smile,” I knew I recognized your car from somewhere, your grandma would come in here every Sunday for brunch, there gotta be a picture of her on the wall if you wanna look. She was such a sweet lady. JJ mentioned that you were in town I don’t know why I didn’t put that together and you had dinner with Sarah’s family yesterday right?”  

“Yeah I did, she has an interesting family.”

“God tell me about it, her brother is a piece of work.” 

It seemed like everyone had some kind of beef with Rafe.

“I had to spend the afternoon with him yesterday and it was excruciating. Thankfully JJ saved me.” 

“He saved you? Usually he’s the one to get people in trouble.” 

“Yeah I heard something like that, but so far he’s proven his usefulness.”

“Well I’m glad he hasn't screwed you over yet,” she said noticing the lunch rush was about to start, “So just the sandwich and fries?” 

“Yeah and just whatever JJ usually gets, he’s over working right now and I figure I’d get him something to consume that wasn't a cheap beer and make it to go please.” 

“Alrighty then a vegetarian sandwich with a side of fries and a The Barrel Roll Burger coming right up. That’ll be $15.25.” 

I pulled out a twenty and put the change into the jar when she was looking the other way. While a man, who I assumed was Kie’s father, was making my order I looked at all of the old photographs and stickers on the wall. I failed to find any of Grandmother but a newer looking polaroid stood out to me. It was of a group of teenagers sitting around a table in the restaurant. I recognized Kie, Sarah, and JJ with two other handsome looking boys. Geez what was in the water on this island, everyone seemed to be incredibly attractive. JJ was shoving some sort of food in Kie’s face while Sarah and one of the boys were pretending to make out, I assumed it was her boyfriend John B, while the other boy just looked straight into the camera like he was on The Office or something. They all looked happy and seemed to be enjoying their afternoon. I couldn't help but notice how close Kie and JJ were and a twinge of jealousy sparked in my stomach. 

“Order up Whitney!” called Kie with a brown bag in her hand. 

“Thank you!” I replied, “You have no idea how hungry I am.” 

“Well come by anytime, we got the best food on the island,” she said with a smile. 

“I sure will, thanks again!” I said walking out the door and towards my car.

a/n: So yeah apparently Whitney gets turned on by cars. Anyways thank you so much for reading! I absolutely LOVE writing and although sometimes it gets frustrating or I start to doubt wether I should continue or not I just keep going because I love it. Next chapter will be up Wednesday so stay tuned! Thanks again! 

[zmediaoutlet]

come upon a midnight clear

hey, guess who finally finished a goddamn fic.

Is it the fic I was supposed to be writing? Of course not. Is it clever and brilliant? Prolly not. Was it wildly self-indulgent? Sure was, and we’re going to go with that.

title: come upon a midnight clear pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E tags: Established Relationship, Bunker Era, A/B/O (meaning my halmanverse version), Cracky smut, Christmas-ish fic

summary: Sam sets a challenge for the festive season, and Dean is more than happy to join in.

(read on AO3)

It’s not until the 4th of December when Dean’s laying on his back in their bed, panting, and Sam rolls off of him and lets out a long breath and says, "Done," that Dean starts to suspect something might be up.

They’d had a dry spell for most of the last month. They’d fought about something stupid—how to handle a hunt, a stupid should’ve-been-easy job, and them being off-kilter to each other led to a guy dying who shouldn’t have, and one of the werewolves getting away. Stupid, stupid, and they were almost over it except that Dean said something bitchy at just the right time, and then that set it all off again. Sam spent a lot of time "researching at the library"‌ after that, and Dean worked on the car and cleaned the bunker top to bottom and even worked out a few times, though he remembered pretty quick why he never did that after his ass was sore from squats and for no fun reasons. Another job came along, vampires that were hard to clear out of a tight-knit town. That hunt went better and things felt smoother, but still, even if Sam kissed him soft after saving Dean from a close call with a fang, he stayed awake in the bunker’s library when they got home and Dean went to bed alone, and it was—nothing was going to crack them, but it was a little lonely. Dean hasn’t had much occasion to feel lonely, these last few years. He’s not a fan.

When Sam did come back—yeah, that was a good night. And then the day after, that was a very good morning, Dean hitched up against the kitchen island and gasping into Sam’s hair with his shorts caught around one ankle. Yesterday, Sam woke him up with two fingers in his ass and his mouth working at one nipple, long enough that when Sam pulled off and smiled good morning the air hurt on the swollen-soft flesh—and oh, they stayed in bed for a while, and Dean could hardly walk once Sam was done. No complaints.

Still:‌ "What’s today?"‌ Dean says, when he’s got more of his breath back, and Sam licks his lips and says, "The 4th, why?" and Dean narrows his eyes at the ceiling and counts backwards in his head, and then rolls onto his side and punches Sam in the arm and ignores the ow! and says, "Are you fucking with me?"

Sam’s holding onto his bicep, his nose wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

It’s that aw-shucks Sammy tone. It didn’t work when Sam was lying about doing his shooting drills when he was a teenager, and it doesn’t work now. "The 4th,"‌ Dean says, exaggerated. "Four times? Seriously, are you—what, are you playing a game?" Sam shrugs, eyebrows high, and Dean rolls his eyes and pushes up on his elbow, shoving his hand into Sam’s face as he counts.

"One," he says, his extended finger nearly jabbing Sam in the cheek, "‌was this morning when you tried to suck my clit off, and two"‌ (Sam flinches back from the second finger) "was when you had me on your lap, and then three was after lunch, when you brought me the beer when I‌ was changing the oil on my baby, and four—just now, and we haven’t even had dinner yet, you horndog." He jabs Sam in the chest with the damning four fingers. "December 4th, four fucks. What is it, a spell or something? You’re supposed to ask, dumbass."

Sam grabs Dean’s hand before Dean can poke him again, and sighs. "Okay," he says. "You caught me. But it’s not a spell, come on."

"What, an experiment?"‌ Dean says. Sam wrinkles his nose again, caught, and Dean yanks back, annoyed. "Dude, that’s not better!"

Sam sits up, waves his hands. "It’s not like—I’m not—" He sighs again, runs a hand through his hair. "I’m more experimenting on—me?"

Dean frowns, shifts on the bed. "Like, how?"

He watches Sam’s mouth quirk, and then Sam touches his hip. "Figures, that’s what would freak you out more," he says, quieter, and then runs his fingers along Dean’s leg to the tender back of his knee. Dean shifts again, his thighs slicking against each other, and Sam’s lips curve easily, knowing exactly what Dean’s feeling.

"Shut up," Dean says, automatically, and Sam says, "It’s a challenge."

"What, you shutting up?"

Sam pinches the back of his knee, lightly. "What I’m—this." His hand runs back down Dean’s thigh, long fingers curling around to the tender inside, and Dean bites the inside of one cheek, his engine threatening to rev up again. Sam shakes his head. "You’re going to laugh."

Dean breathes in through his nose, the smell of them heavy in the pit of his throat. "Try me."

"Dickcember,"‌ Sam says.

Dean blinks at him. "I’m sorry?"

Sam shrugs. "It’s a—well, like, have you heard of No-fap November?" Dean must make a face, because Sam rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well, it’s just, we kind of—we sort of did that, on accident. Or—at least I‌ did." Dean shrugs at him. Whatever happens between him and the showerhead is his business, if Sam’s not putting out. Sam huffs. "Yeah, well. So, after holding it in for a while, I‌ thought, you know, we could try this."

"Dickcember,"‌ Dean says. It doesn’t sound any less stupid the more he hears it.

"Come as many times in a day as the number of that day,"‌ Sam says. He shrugs one shoulder. "We’re doing pretty good, so far."

Dean feels like his eyebrows might never come down. "Sammy,"‌ he says, and Sam half-laughs, and maybe Dean didn’t need to sound so damn admiring, but. "This is the… proudest I have ever been. Seriously. Brings a tear to my eye."

"Yeah, yeah,"‌ Sam says, but he’s got a grin peeking in at the corner of his mouth, and his dimples are all over the place, and hell, he’s naked and hot as hell and Dean came four goddamn times today, he can afford to be magnanimous. But—

"Wait a second,"‌ Dean says, "but you haven’t—I‌ mean, I got there, but you—"

"I figure we can share,"‌ Sam says. "Not like there’s a judging panel or something."

"We’d get straight tens,"‌ Dean says, immediately, and Sam laughs again, leaning in. Dean accepts the kiss, soft and precise with intent, and winds his fingers into Sam’s hair. Jesus, a fuck-challenge. May his brother never cease to amaze. "Except from the Russian judge,"‌ Dean murmurs, when Sam pulls away enough that he can. "We’d probably get docked down to like an 8 or something. Fixing the competition."

"Should’ve recused himself,"‌ Sam says, seriously, the amber light in his hair, and Dean could go for number five right now, he really could.

When he reaches down, though, even if Sam’s lashes dip at the familiar grip at the base of his dick, he’s stopped. "It’s only the fourth," Sam says. He removes Dean’s hand from his lap and kisses the knuckles. Dean’s stomach goes molten hot. Sam’s such a sap. "Gotta pace ourselves."

"You think I‌ can’t make it?"‌ Dean says, laying the outrage on thick. "Buddy, you’re on."

"We’ll see," Sam says, and drops Dean’s hand in favor of thwacking his thigh. "C’mon. Shower, and then dinner. We’re going to need our strength."

He rolls off the bed, all golden tan and long muscles, comfortable and easy. Dean sucks in a long breath, and follows. This is going to be a fun month.

*

He still thinks it's fun as of the 9th, when Sam dredges up three superb erections and makes Dean come twice with each, morning, noon, and night. "Six for you, three for me," Sam says, with Dean's thighs still shuddering around his head. "Nine down."

"We kick ass," Dean mumbles, sweaty, and Sam grins at him and passes out.

By the 13th things are getting a little hairy. Sam's still game, but it turns out fucking takes a lot more time than they thought and they do actually have other things to do. It's a weird moment when Sam says that he's going to make a run to the grocery store in Lebanon and Dean says, "Wait, we need to bone first," and Sam agrees. 'Tis the season, Dean thinks, when Sam goes down to his knees.

Still, even if the spirit is willing the flesh may be weak. Dean's clit can get sensitive at the best of times; on the 16th, he wakes up naked and a little plumped from dreaming strange blurred things about Sam, and the touch of the sheets against his skin makes him shudder, and not entirely in a good way. Even so: "Sammy," he says, and Sam grunts next to him, but turns over, and number one that day is a ginger grind against Sam's hip with Sam's hands on his ass, Sam's mouth against his ear urging him on, sleepy at first but then, delightfully, not. Two and three come in quick succession, but Sam grimaces afterward and says, "Should've tried to hold on, we've got a bunch to do today," even while Dean's sloppy with him and too comfortable to climb off.

So, the romance is coming off of it, a little. Dean actually goes on the internet and researches foods that boost testosterone, and feeds Sam tuna often enough that he starts to kinda hate it. The 20th finds them with Sam making a schedule and giving Dean an early Christmas present: a dual vibrator/clit sleeve, and once an hour Dean settles down in his favorite armchair in the library and knocks out two orgasms, until he's sore and overstimulated and too drippy-wet to want to even put his jeans back on. Sam's good for four, that day, the last of which ends with Dean tipped over the back of the armchair with his sleeve still buzzing, practically crying into his folded arm while Sam shakes against his ass and gasps, "Twenty, oh god, turn it off, turn it off—"

Dean's not sure they're going to make it. Sam pulls off his clit, having woken him at three in the morning to ensure they hit their schedule, and says, "Baby, you need to check the calendar more often." Turns out, Sam's had a secret weapon this whole time, and on the 22nd it hits: Dean's heat, coming exactly when it's meant to like clockwork. That day he gets four off before Sam even touches him, pressed with his sensitive tits against the cold shower wall with three fingers in his ass, and when he comes back to bed he's soft and overwarm and his fingers are pruny and Sam wakes up just from the smell of him, his nostrils flaring and his dick revved and ready and the way he says Dean makes the slick leak down the inside of Dean's thigh. On Sam's knot they hit four more before breakfast, and Sam doesn't even need to work for it. "I think I'm getting dehydrated," Dean says, his head light as air. Sam rubs the base of his clit where it's still standing proud and smiles at him, a smug tilt to it. "I'll get you water," he says, and flexes his hips up, "when you give me one more."

Dean shudders, clenching around Sam's fatter dick, and leans into it. "This was a stupid idea," he says, but he leans down anyway and lets Sam play with him.

On the 30th it's snowing, hard, and they don't really get out of bed. Sam's sore, and Dean's sorer, but it's hard not to keep touching each other. One lamp on, and they've got a twelve-pack of beer on the table, and a pitcher of water, and they're riding a fuck-drunk tipsy wave that's enough that when Sam has to piss he lets Dean convince him to just go right in the sink.

"You're nasty," Dean says, from the bed. The sound's ridiculously loud on the porcelain. "Gross. Why do I deal with you."

"This was your idea!" Sam says, over his shoulder, and Dean grins at him, stretching out. God, his hamstrings. The vibrator's somewhere by his feet, sloppy with lube and his own slick, and there's all sorts of nasty on his thighs, and they really might need to just burn the bedding. Who cares. This is the best month ever.

He tells Sam so, when Sam gets back into bed, and Sam shrugs, leaning over him on one elbow. "I don't know," he says, and fills Dean with three fingers like it's just punctuation in the conversation. Dean gulps air, spreads his thighs. "There was that month when I was—seventeen? And we had that rental house in Colorado and we went hiking a bunch. That was fun."

His fingers grind up into Dean's sweet spot, swollen and oversensitive. "The idea," Dean starts, pushing into it, "that this even begins to compare to that is—is downright offensive, Sammy."

Sam starts up slow circles, his thumb dragging against the base of Dean's clit. "I mean, I did get a lot of mosquito bites, that's true," he says, and Dean grips his shoulder, laughs. Sam grins at him. "Come on, give it up."

Dean does, fast, rippling. His thighs clench around Sam's wrist, his heart hammers in the pit of his chest. "God," he says, when it's over, but it doesn't really feel over, and it's not—they've got… he doesn't even know how many still to go. Sam will. He's probably got a checklist in the bedside table. Dean laughs again, slinging his arm over his eyes. "This is so dumb."

"Yeah," Sam says, and he sounds happy. "Hey. Hey, Dean."

Dean sighs, unclenches his thighs to let Sam's wrist go. "What, Sammy."

A touch to his cheek, and he uncovers his face to see Sam just looking at him—not smiling, really, but Dean knows that face and Sam sure as shit ain't sad. "I think we're going to make it to thirty-one," Sam says.

He says it with this voice that—Sam's said a few things to him, like that, and just like always Dean feels like his heart might just burst with it. Dean catches Sam's hand, kisses the pad of his thumb. "Yeah," he says, and doesn't mind how damn sappy it sounds back. Sam's a bad influence. "Yeah, I think we will, too."

[kpophours]

Inked Coordinates

➵ Seventeen: Jeonghan x fem. reader / one shot, soulmate AU / fluff, a bit of angst

➵ warnings: slight mentions of death (of a parent), mentions of terminal illness, mentions of alcohol/drinking

➵ word count: 2.4k

The concept of soulmates is strange one, at least in your eyes.

You know that there is apparently that one person for everyone out there. You also know that, when you meet said special person, coordinates of the place you first bump into each other will magically ink themselves on the exact same part of your bodies. You are seriously asking yourself if anyone has ever gotten their coordinates inked on their butt, but how do ask already mated soulmates such a... rather personal question?

You don’t know where the first soulmates came from - or when exactly, nobody does, apparently.

In contrast to most of your friends, you don’t feel the need to inquire any further and you don’t really give it much thought, or at least you try to. So you rarely engage in conversations about soulmates with them - while they are practically thinking about nothing else during your High School years - even though they always try to get you to talk about it. Most of the times, you just shrug and say “If I meet them, I meet them.” They always leave you alone after that.

If you’re being honest, you’re probably just scared. Scared you’re never going to find your soulmate - something not unheard of. There’s just too little knowledge about soulmates in general so far, so no one knows why some never find theirs. Maybe you’re scared that yes, you will meet him or her, but only very late in life - so you’ll spend most of it searching for your other half. Furthermore, the thought of needing “another half” is very strange to you - as if you’re not already complete the way you are. Maybe you’re also scared of losing the one person you are meant to be with, after finally finding him or her. Whatever the reason... you simply try to turn off any thoughts of soulmates.

Period.

It usually works quite well for you.

Some of your friends find their soulmates during High School, which is actually quite rare.

Some others find theirs during their first college years.

Some stay single, like yourself.

You are happy for them - really, you are. You also like every single one of their soulmates - something easily accomplished: they make your friends happy, so you are happy.

As time moves on, it becomes more difficult to ignore the side-eyes or  sympathetic looks they often throw your way. It’s as if they want to say “Oh look at that poor thing - still no sign of a soulmate”. You try to pay them no mind and simply have your fun with a few men and women during your early twenties, all of which are yet to be mated too.

Still, the voice in the back of your mind, the one you always try to ignore, seems to get louder with every passing year.

Your brother finds his soulmate when you’re in your first year of college. They marry not even two months later, even though the concept of marriage is long outdated by now - it’s become rather outdated since soulmates first began to emerge. But some still want a simple gold circle around their fingers to signify their undying love for one another, so who are you to judge?

You get to wear a pretty dress, dance with other prettily dressed people and drink delicious wine. All in all, it’s an amazing day.

Then, there comes a time when you finally think about the real use of a soulmate... It’s when your father loses his - your mother.

Cancer sucks.

For all the wonders of modern technology and medicine, there is nothing in this world that is able to save her.

It’s during her funeral that you finally seem to realize what having - and losing - a soulmate can really mean. Your father, once full of life and love, degenerates into a shadow of his former self. Gone is the bright man you have known your whole life.

It almost makes you wish you’ll never find your own soulmate.

But as so often, the universe has different plans for you.

It's graduation day and you’re sure you’re dreaming. It can’t be really over, can it? These past few years have gone by in the blink of an eye.

You get your diploma, shake hands with some very important people - or at least that's what the university deems them to be - and whoop with the other graduates, while caps fly all around you. At the end, you still feel like you’re dreaming.

After taking thousand of pictures with family and friends, you finally have a few minutes alone to yourself. Taking a last stroll around campus, you smile a bit ruefully. You’re happy to have completed your studies, of course you are - but to say good-bye to your college years isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. You will miss the late night talks with your roommate; or being wine-drunk in the middle of the week, just because you knew you could always skip the morning lecture if you really wanted to. No more college parties - even though you’re not sure if you’re really going to miss those -, no more lectures, no more... Freedom. Or youth.

You huff at that thought. You’re still young, even though you just graduated. You’re also still free - a job doesn’t automatically signify the end of freedom. No need to get into such a melancholic mood. This is just the beginning of a new chapter of your life. You smile at that thought, closing your eyes and enjoying the warm rays of sunshine hitting your face.

Half an hour later, you go back and join your family, taking a car to an expensive looking restaurant your father has picked for this - his words, not yours - “special occasion”. Your brother just welcomed his first daughter this spring, an adorable little thing with big curious eyes and you hold her all through dinner, loving the way the little munchkin feels in your arms. One day, you want one just like this.

After saying goodbye to your family, you meet up with some of the other graduates and get a bit (a lot) drunk, dancing through the night with them. You finally tumble into bed when the sun is already rising again - you have no idea how you’ve even made it home (Uber, probably).

When you wake up around noon the next day, head spinning and stomach feeling queasy, you see them.

On your left arm.

Coordinates.

You can’t help it - you scream (thank God your roommate’s not home).

And immediately run into the bathroom, grabbing some soap and trying to get rid of the black ink - which stays exactly where it is.

So it is no cruel joke drunk-you wanted to play on sober-you. Apparently, you have really met your soulmate last night. The coordinates printed on your inner left forearm just prove this.

Dazed, you stumble back into your tiny bedroom, flapping down on your comfy bed. Lost in thought, you touch the coordinates for the first time; tracing them over and over again with your fingers. The same ones your soulmate has inked on his or her arm now, too.

"Who are you?", you whisper to yourself, voice lost in the gloominess of the room, “Where are you?”

You don't know what to do.

The logical thing would be to go to the location the coordinates determine, you know that - of course you do.

But... you are scared.

You don't remember anything from last night; the last thing being the delicious tiramisu you had split with your dad. After that... nothing. Blank.

Did you talk to your soulmate? Did you just bump into another, not knowing the significance of the other person? Did your soulmate recognize you as his or her soulmate? And decided to... ignore it?

Just like that, you’re overthinking again.

So you do what you always do in times like these - you call your best friend.

"Please tell me this is important.", her groggy voice greets you from the other end of the line, "My hangover is killing me and every word I hear or speak hurts."

"It's important, I promise.", you answer, heart beating frantically against your rib cage.

You take a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.

"Tell me now or I’m hanging up."

"... I’ve gotten my coordinates."

It’s dead silent on the other end now.

"You- WHAT?!"

You flinch at the loud sound, head still pounding from all the wine you have consumed yesterday - you are seriously regretting that now.

"I uh- think... I met my soulmate."

"You're sure drunk-you didn't chug too much wine and went to a tattoo parlour to mess with sober-you or something like that?"

You snort. She really does know you too well. "Honestly? That was my first thought, too. But, uh, the ink isn't coming off. And it doesn't hurt, which a brand new tattoo obviously would. So... Yeah, I'm pretty sure about the soulmate-thing."

"Ohmygod. It's finally happening. We can go on double-dates now!"

"...That's seriously your first thought after finding out I just met my soulmate?"

"No. My first thought was: why the hell are you on your phone talking to me, when you should be with your freaking soulmate?!", she sounds almost offended.

"Uh, that is kind of my problem right now. I don't know who it is. I... was pretty drunk." You wince when you hear her disappointed sigh.

"Are you really that stupid? Just go to the location of the coordinates! Aren't you supposed to be the smart one in this friendship, Miss I-graduated-with-honors?", she scolds you, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stay silent for a few seconds.

"Why don't you tell me what your real problem is, Y/N?", her voice is soft now. She really does know you the best.

"What if my soulmate met me yesterday and decided I'm not worth it?", you whisper into the speaker. When you hear your best friend huff in exasperation, you almost smile.

"First of all, that's impossible. I mean... that person is your soulmate for a reason, you know? Furthermore, I don't think anyone could ever decide you're not worth it. I know this will shock you, but you're actually a pretty okay-person! Even if you can be astoundingly stupid sometimes."

You laugh at that. "I love you, too. And... thank you. I’ll call you later."

"No, you won't. Because you'll finally be together with your hot, new soulmate and won't even think about me anymore. And that's okay, because I love you too. And now go and snatch your guy! Or girl. Whatever. I know you go both ways."

Before you can reply anything, she hangs up on you. You roll your eyes, smiling. That was just the pep-talk you needed.

Two hours later - you have definitely taken too long to pick an outfit for today -, you are freshly showered, dressed and are currently nervously gnawing on your lower lip, already drawing blood. When you typed in your coordinates, Google immediately came up with this location. As you look around the area, you begin to remember this bar very darkly - electric music, gloomy lights, a lot of plants. Very hipster - but you’re pretty sure the wine was good.

It’s still closed, but that’s no surprise to you as it's still quite early in the afternoon.

It begins raining and you curse yourself for not bringing an umbrella today, beginning to shiver slightly. It's definitely unusually cold for summer this year.

Shoving both hands into the pockets of your leather jacket, you squint at the cloudy sky. Great weather for meeting your soulmate. You sigh and lower your gaze again, observing how the raindrops slowly begin to form puddles on the street.

It's strangely calming.

Suddenly, the rain stops - or at least, it stops just above you. Surprised, you look up. Warm brown eyes gaze back at you, curiosity written over a ridiculously handsome face.

"Uh. Hi.", you say, a bit dumbfounded.

The man has a beautiful eye smile, tiny lines crinkle around the edges of them when he beams at you. He’s around your age - that or he looks younger than he is. 

"Hi.", his voice sounds like honey and you feel your heartbeat speed up. "I'm just going to take a leap. Do you happen to have freshly inked coordinates on you?", he asks, tilting his head to one side.

Blond dyed hair falls into his eyes and you have to hold yourself back from brushing them out of his face. Hope blooms inside of you and you nod carefully. His smile brightens even more and you swear, your breathing stops, your heart stops - everything around you simply seems to stop. How can such a beautiful human being even exist?

You return his smile a bit shyly. "Uh, yes, I actually do."

“... on your right forearm?"

At that, you nearly choke. You feel as if you’re being drenched in cold water.

Because no, the coordinates are not on your right forearm - they’re on your left. Seriously, how unlucky can you get?

"Oh. Uh, no. They’re not."

Panic contorts the handsome man's face for a second, before he facepalms himself - hopefully not destroying his beautiful face in the process of doing so.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry - I mean on the left arm, not on the right! I'm so stupid, oh God, sorry! I- uh, I have that cursed right/left confusion, so..."

He turns slightly red at his confession. It might just be the most adorable expression you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

"Oh well, at least it's not a right/wrong confusion, so I'm okay with it.", you tease him, smiling brightly and pushing your left sleeve upwards, exposing your coordinates.

When he spots the tattoo, he actually beams, showing you the exact same one on his inner left forearm. You look from his tattoo to your own and back at his (stupidly handsome) face.

You jump, when you feel his fingers on your skin. Carefully, he starts to trace the black ink on your forearm, making you shiver. Warmth returns to your body, making you feel blissful and happy. 

"I'm Jeonghan.", he says softly, eyes lifting and boring into yours.

The intensity of his gaze makes your knees weak.

"I'm Y/N."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Uh, sober, this time."

You grin. "Likewise."

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[outroshooky]

imagine | ksj

⇢ genre: drabble (postbreakup!au) (angst, some fluff)

⇢ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇢ word count: 2.5k

⇢ prompt: “why can’t you imagine a world like that?”

⇢ warnings: swearing and heartbreak. have fun, y’all.

⇢ a/n: i’ve been listening to thank u, next as an album a lot for the last few weeks. kudos to ariana grande and imagine for this one, as well as she’s all yours by loote.

Nobody ever said pad thai was the healthiest of dinners, but it certainly hit the spot on cold, rainy evenings when you found yourself bent over textbooks, immersed in criminal psychology like the nerd that you are.

Chinese food has become your go-to more and more these past few weeks, the heat on your tongue from Kung Pao chicken and lo mein warming you up from the inside. All it seems to do outside your apartment windows is storm, the world outside rendered a permanent color swatch of gray. Pewter were the clouds that settled low over campus, bellies distended with wrath. Abalone was the muted light that filtered through your bedroom blinds, dim and barely-there. Slate were the bricks of the achy old home directly facing your own, looming in your window, lashed wet and whipped by the never-ending rainfall.

A depressing existence, certainly.

In fact, the weather is not the only thing that seems to have turned a chilled back on you. In one dramatically splintering fragment, your friends have drifted away from you, too. Yoongi no longer comes around to talk some obscure bit of politics with you; Taehyung suddenly finds excuses to spend his time pouring over copies of art manuscripts dating back to the Renaissance. Your cold brew seems to have lost its vanilla flavor; the sweetness brews stagnant on your tongue. Even the majestic portraits of the university’s founding fathers, poised and proud in their frames, appear to be frowning down on you.

It’s as if the universe is trying to tell you something. Which, judging by all of those things plus the daily horoscopes that light up your phone screen, it probably is.

Sunday, 12:47 PM. Your day at a glance. Sometimes, you’re doing the work without being aware of it.

“You missed date night on Friday.”

“I did? Oh my god babe, I’m so sorry. Can we do it this Sunday instead? Or maybe Wednesday?”

“I have work on Sunday and a mandatory civics exam on Wednesday.”

“Well, how about next week?”

“This is the third one in a row you’ve missed, Seokjin.”

Yesterday, 12:53 PM. Your day at a glance. Think of trusting people as an act of generosity today.

“I thought you said you were studying with Yoongi in the library tonight.”

The door creaks closed. “I was. There’s a group project coming up that we’re nervous for.”

A text notification lights up your phone, the gentle ping! way more cheery than necessary.

myg: where’s your boyfriend? he’s supposed to be here. it’s been two hours and his coffee is getting cold.

And, perhaps, your favorite:

Nine hours ago. Your day at a glance. Don’t be scared to tell each other the truth.

myg: there’s nothing wrong with me, but i think you need to take some time for yourself, so we’re giving you some space. we’re all worried about you.

Perhaps this whole message-from-the-universe thing is more obvious than you thought it was.

You roll your eyes and take another bite of your takeout, leaning over your textbook with renewed, nearly reckless abandon.

The universe would have to wait. You had an examination on court cases tomorrow that you could not afford to fail.

It’s late the next time you look at the clock, so late that night has spilled over into the early morning, and for once, it’s quiet outside.

The streetlights reflect on the tearstained panes of your window, droplets of gold shimmering tranquil. Branches scratch at the glass with persistence, but not insistence. The lamp’s glow burns soft in the darkness of your bedroom, and the pen flows moot in your aching grasp, working endlessly for four hours- no, five. Your eyes grow heavy in the light that seems to be dying evermore, the bulb fading and flickering, threatening total extinction.

Perhaps a brief, merciful rest is in order.

Your head hits the cover of your notebook and you’re asleep without a second thought.

A single chime resounds in the stillness of your apartment, a sound that conditions your weary head to instantly lift from your pillow of study materials. You blink; your eyes are dry and sticky from exhaustion, but your dark laptop screen is awakened with color, so alive and so brightly blue that you squint for a moment, pupils overwhelmed.

Incoming call: campus-wide handsome💕💕💕

Relief.

Relief floods your system like water pouring from a broken dam, leaking and sinking and filling every nook, every cranny. Relief, ease; the feelings spurt color into your darkened world, the details sharpening as if brought into focus by an empyrean lens. Relief, him. This is normal; everything will be fine, he’s calling to talk it out, finally. He’s ready to come clean, to own up to his mistakes and mishaps and god, you will too, because you are far from perfect. Two broken halves, reunited by the glow of pixels on an electronic screen.

You move, almost automatically, to accept the call.

On the other side of the screen, your boyfriend sits, blurry with a poor connection. He is effortlessly handsome barefaced, an oversized hoodie thrown on casually, brown locks mussed in a style only he could pull off. His brow is more pronounced in the shadows of his dorm room, his almond eyes tired but hopeful. He's never looked so domestically kissable; your heart twists at the thought.

When Seokjin speaks, he’s quiet with the reverence of night-time, that sacred morning space when the world pauses to take a breath of its own. Everything is on the table, but nothing is off limits. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” you breathe.

He scratches at the back of his neck, fingers disappearing in the strands of hair that lick at his ears. “I know that this isn’t really warranted and is probably going to sound weird, but I needed to hear your voice. It’s late, but- I don’t know, I missed it. I missed you.”

Your heart soars. “I missed you too Jinnie, more than I’d like to admit in all honesty.”

A smile pulls at his lips, wonderfully plush and sweet. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” 

You gaze into the camera at him. Him, the person with the world in the palm of his hands. Him, the student whom nearly every one of his professors fawned over, the son of one of the most distinguished politicians in the region. Him, who had caught your eye at the nearby coffee shop one late afternoon shift and stolen your heart with a spilled cappuccino all over his brand new slacks. Him, who stares at you with java eyes and a tender heart, so close but so, so far away.

There’s a beat of silence that falls as you stare at him, and he clears his throat. “Baby, I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.”

A prickle of worry in your stomach. “What about us?”

“Do you remember that night when you made your mom’s pasta from scratch for the first time?”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

“That was the night we slow danced in the kitchen to Sinatra,” he reminisces. “It was just us and the moon, dancing on the tile while Frank crooned. I miss that.”

Your heart leaps at the happy memory, burning clear in your mind.

Seokjin waggles his brows as he places one hand on your waist, the gentle pressure of his hand on your hip comforting. You’re in sweatpants and an old shirt; he’s in a suit, having just come off his internship at a local firm. But he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, your cheeks pink with the heat of the kitchen and your sleeves splattered with tomato sauce. And in that moment you are wholly, completely enrapturing to him, so much that he just had to ask you to dance, to hold you tight to his chest as the vinyl in the hallway plays and you have carved a moment out of chaos for yourselves, you only.

“May I have this dance, little chef?”

“You may, my handsome lawyer.”

“I only passed the bar exam, like, five months ago.”

“Shut up and dance with me, you coward.”

“I’m shutting up now.”

“And I miss that day we spent at the arboretum a few hours away, walking between the roses and talking about anything and everything,” Seokjin continues. “Or the times we’d bring Chinese food over Yoongi and Jimin’s dorm room and play Cards Against Humanity for hours on end.”

Seokjin kneels to cradle a flower delicately between his fingers, studying the pastels etched like ink into the petals. “You know, your lips are as beautiful as those petals,” you blurt. “And as soft, too.” He blushes a deep crimson all the way to his ears, and you laugh aloud.

Cheeks stuffed round and full with dumplings, you nearly choke at the card you draw from the stack. “Gordon Ramsay’s what?” The room is filled with howls of mirth and this, you think to yourself, this must be heaven.

“Even the moments when you’d cry because the stress was too much, or when I had that emergency hospital trip and you found out in the middle of your lecture.”

Chest heaving, lungs stabbing, fear. Stress and exhaustion and anxiety, bearing down their cruel weight on your shoulders, twisting each thought just enough to make it hurt. You’re crying into your hands, a hiccup punctuating each fresh sob, when your apartment door is opening and he’s stumbling in and then his arms are around you. He’s clutching you so tight you feel as though your ribs are cracking, insisting that he must hold you together when you feel yourself shattering into infinitesimal pieces, finds it in himself to pluck each shard from his palm and put it together to find you again. You, the everlasting heartbeat of his microcosm, a little slice of paradise to which no one else holds the key.

Chest heaving again, but it’s pure panic that floods your veins this time, seeps frigid into your blood. In a rush you’re dropping your phone into your bag, practically throwing your laptop and your books into your backpack with one hand, scrabbling for your car keys with the other. A text from Yoongi you’ll never forget: this isn’t an emergency, but jin had a severe allergic reaction to the seafood we got for lunch. he’s on his way to the hospital right now. Never in your life had you driven twenty-five miles an hour over the speed limit before that day, but he was awake and alert when you saw him next, enough to give you a crooked thumbs-up as he smiled behind the nebulizer.

“I don’t know why I’m thinking of all this. I guess I just wanted to call you and tell you that I love you and I miss you, and I’m thinking of you. It’s late, but you’re the only thing on my mind, and really, just- I’m sorry for everything that’s been going on lately.” You can hear the earnest pleading in his voice, the ache in his soul. He means what he says, and a pang of guilt throbs at the surface.

“I really do love you,” he continues. “I love you like every star shines in the midday sky, even when they’re too bright to be seen. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh and how your eyebrows furrow when you study at night and how your teeth aren’t quite straight; they’re perfect the way they are. I love your little unorthodox habits, your quirks and flaws and your talents too. I love you, okay? I love you for who you are and I promise we will get through this, I swear it even if it takes every ounce of energy I have.”

His voice breaks when he says okay; he says those three words like he's trying to embed them into your soul, carve them into your psyche, promise you that even though this has been falling apart at the seams, he loves you. Somehow, someway, it will last. The end isn’t near; that's not possible. Not while he loves you like this, and you love him too, love him with every ounce of your soul.

“Seokjin, I-” you begin.

CRASH!

Thunder explodes outside your window and you jolt, hand lashing out, knocking over your cup of pens and pencils that sits expectantly on your desk. It is if the sky is cleaving itself in two, lightning splitting the sky with an explosion of light and thunder howling with a cacophony of darkness. Rain pours down, spilling from the gutters down your sill; you can hear a faint dripping from the bathroom and realize the ceiling is leaking again, just like it has every day for the last two and a half weeks.

You raise a hand to your cheek and trace the square imprints in the skin from your laptop keyboard. There’s a kink in your neck that aches like the devil, your spine aching after the uncomfortable position you contorted yourself into pre-nap and you are so groggy at first that nothing seems out of the ordinary, and you move to message Seokjin that you accidentally took a nap, and you loved him, too.

You press the power button on your laptop. No response.

You frown and try again, running your hand across the body of the machine, cold and unresponsive to the touch.

Cold and unresponsive?

But you were just-

No.

No.

Seokjin was just here. He was just here; you just saw him onscreen, you’d call him in a moment and things would be just how they were.

Just how they were two weeks ago, when he’d told you over a caramel macchiato that this, whatever beautiful thing you had cultivated, was beyond repair. That he couldn’t have more of his energy sapped by this relationship that you had put so much of yourself towards, giving him everything he could possibly want, and yet at the end of it all, you’re the one whose face is spat upon with scorn. He promised you that you would get through this, and yet there is no promise because this is already over, and the second time the thunder crashes in your ears like a symphony of pure sound, you cry aloud. It felt so fucking real to have him there, him, the color on your canvas, the brightness of your everyday life turned up like an old television dial.

The lamp still shines buttery gold, all these hours later. Now it matches the tinge of dawn that peeks through a break in the angry clouds, spreading its vibrant fingers like ivy seeking a trellis.

It is so easy to imagine a world in which your laptop merely died, cutting off your proclamation of love to him. So easy to imagine him in his dorm on campus, body crooked as he sleeps curled in on himself, buried under a pile of blankets when your body can’t provide him the heat. So easy to pretend as though none of this nightmare, this hellish denial had never even happened to begin with.

But you can’t anymore.

You can’t hold onto every experience. Give yourself permission to forget.

Your phone vibrates with a notification.

Fortunate are those who can appreciate the basic goods of life with awe, pleasure, wonder and ecstasy, again and again for the first time.

[meteorit3737]

3

The morning sun stubbornly shone directly in the eye, Cameron moved her head to the left, then to the right in an attempt to hide from the omnipresent light, but she did not succeed. She buried her face in the pillow and carefully opened her eyes. She felt well, despite yesterday’s raid on the pubs. Apparently, the pill brought by Haley helped. That's just the body was somehow constrained. She raised her head and immediately saw the reason for the constraint - she and Donna intertwined, like creepers, Donna's head lay on Cam's hand.

On the one hand, it was nice, on the other hand, the hand was noticeably numb. It’s strange, Cam thought, I've never been a fan of sleepy hugs, maybe this is Donna ... But it was impossible to blame everything on Donna, given that Cam’s arm and leg were on top of Donna’s body. Cameron lay still for a moment, listening to her friend's calm breathing, but then she took her call from the body, she carefully unraveled and went to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the terrible state of her costume and hair. Cam grinned, thinking how real vampires would appreciate their appearance, because they did not reflect in the mirror. She threw off her clothes and took a shower, after which she wrapped herself in Donna’s bathrobe. In the guest room, she kept a change of clothes just in case, and now this occasion has come.

Cameron left the bathroom and saw that Donna was also awake, sitting on the bed and rubbing her whiskey with a pained look.

- Hello! How are you? asked Cam.

- It's been better. And how are you?

- Not bad. I think this is because I drank an Alkazelzer pill yesterday, and we were able to pour only half a glass into you.

- We? Who are we? - Donna looked at Cam, trying to remember how they got home. The memory was fuzzy.

- Haley and me. She met us when we arrived and helped us get here. And then we both passed out.

- Mmm, this explains something, - Donna lifted the vampire jaw from the folds of her skirt and extended it to Cam. - I came across this with my hand, opened my eyes and almost screamed.

- I'm sorry I dropped my teeth in your bed, I won't do it again, - Cam laughed and Donna laughed after her.

- God, I'm a terrible mom! I don’t remember how I came home, my underage daughter had to give me a hangover remedy ...

- And you slept with a vampire jaw at your side and didn't even notice it! Come on, take a shower, feel better. I took your robe though. But I can make coffee while you're in the shower.

Cameron helped Donna get up and directed her to the bathroom door. Donna turned around at the door and giggled.

- With a jaw? In this state, I did not notice a whole vampire at my side! Fortunately, he was unarmed, so I hope all my blood is with me.

- Even vampires in the morning want more coffee than blood! - smiled at Cam and went to change clothes in the guest room. Donna closed the bathroom door and began to get rid of the witch’s costume, unsuccessfully trying to remember at least something after returning home. Did she and Cam fall asleep together? Damn, why doesn't she remember anything?

The shower actually eased her condition. Donna was glad that it was Saturday (well, parties are best scheduled for Friday, right?), dressed in home clothes and went to the kitchen. It smelled nice of freshly brewed coffee, there was a mug of steaming drink on the table, and next to the table stood Cam in a T-shirt and jeans, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a polaroid photograph, which she thoughtfully examined, in the other.

- Everything is good?

Cam flinched slightly, turned and nodded. Donna took her mug and took a couple of sips. The coffee was made the way she liked. From this fact in her stomach warmed. Or is it from coffee? Donna drank more before looking back at Cameron. Cam seemed to be waiting for this and handed her a photograph. In the photo, they were sleeping next to each other in their Halloween costumes. Calm faces, disheveled hair, Donna on her back, half-turned head turned toward Cam, and Cam on her side facing Donna, resting her hand on her forearm. Donna hardly looked up from the picture and turned her head to Cam, who looked at her in anticipation of a reaction.

- It's cute. Yes, we are drunk, but cute. But where from?

- Hailey, - Cam shrugged. - She left a note.

On a sheet torn from a notebook it was written: "Good morning, mom and Cam! My friend and I went to the cinema, then to the library, I will come after dinner. You are so funny in costumes, especially Cam! You need to go to such parties more often! If you need to more pills, they're on the table. Bye! "

Donna just now noticed an alkazelzer on the table. She shook her head and drank more coffee.

- Great coffee, by the way. Thanks! I already feel better.

- It's all your coffee maker, - Cam shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and, looking away, asked:  Can I ... There are two such photos, will I take one?

- Of course, Cam, you didn't even have to ask!

Cam smiled softly and took a second photograph from the table:

- I’ll take her to my car so as not to forget.

Donna watched Cam for a few seconds, then went to the refrigerator and attached a picture to him with a magnet. This was the first photograph that appeared on it since Donna began to live in this house. Before the divorce, the Clark family refrigerator had photos of girls and families, children's drawings, and after the divorce, Donna’s refrigerator was clean and she never thought about it. Now she seemed to start a new story, new pleasant memories. And the first frame of this story was she and Cam. And Haley as the author of the photograph. Donna thought for a second and attached Haley's note.

There were steps nearby, Cameron returned. A strangely awkward mood had already left her and she cheerfully asked:

- How about some more coffee? And breakfast? There's a great bakery nearby, by the way! They have delicious donuts.

- Yes, Haley said they were almost like mine.

- Do you know how to make donuts? Donna, you're just a storehouse of talent!

Donna smiled and took out the dishes to knead the dough.

- Will you help?

- Of course! - Cam enthusiastically responded. - I hope this is no more difficult than fixing a hard drive, because we could not cope with it.

- Oh, believe me, this time we are waiting for a resounding success! Speaking of deafening ... - Donna handed Cam a mixer. - Check that it works.

Cam plugged the mixer into a power outlet, took it in her hand as if it were a gun, and with a short press of a button she made a sound from the mixer, pretending to shoot, and then defiantly blew imaginary smoke from an imaginary muzzle. Donna could not help laughing. They worked together and after a while drank coffee with donuts, both very pleased with themselves and with each other.

While washing dishes, they tried to calculate how many bars they visited yesterday, and constantly lost count. Gradually, the conversation turned to where it all began.

- What will happen to this moron, will you fire him? - asked Cam.

- Peters? I don't know. - Donna shrugged. - I should have fired him, but remember how scared he was? It is unlikely that he will now come close to me.

- And rightly so! - Cameron twisted a towel as if it were Peters' hand, then she straightened it and hung it in place. It reminded something of Donna.

- Cam, how did you do that? Made him let me go? It looked like some kind of secret trick from spy movies.

They finished the dishes and Donna went into the living room, Cameron followed.

- Well, actually it’s not very difficult, - Cam sat on the sofa and stretched out her arms in front of her. - You fix it with your left hand, not allowing him to straighten his elbow, take it with your right hand and turn his wrist.

- Show me! - Donna stood in front of Cam and held out her right hand.

- Seriously? I do not want to hurt you.

- You won’t do it. Show it slowly.

- Okay...

Cam stood up, Donna grabbed her hand:

- Here, I’ve grabbed you. So?

- It's a little different, but, in general ... The movements are almost the same.

Cam moved her hands smoothly, pressing Donna’s palm to her hand and not letting go, and with her right hand turned Donna’s wrist. And although she moved cautiously, the pain in her wrist forced Donna to kneel down. Cam immediately released her hand and sat down beside her, anxious eyes looking at her friend:

- Hey how are you?

- That's cool! It was a little painful, but already gone. How does is called?

- Nikkyo, one of the basic techniques of aikido.

- Did you learn this in Japan? Show me something else?

- Ummm ... Actually, this is the story of my next failure.

- Failures? Can not be! - Donna got up, took Cam by the hand and sat on the sofa, sitting next to her.

- I came to practice aikido because I had to do something other than programming and games. Tom came home late, and we had a difficult relationship after ... Well, after Comdex and that trip to USA. And dojo classes were a way to get distracted. My sensei was very patient, but a year later he admitted that he had never met a person with such unable to aikido as I was.

- No! - Donna shook her head incredulously.

- Yes! He said, I think too much before performing the desired set of movements. To get up here, keep your foot there, turn your arm around here ... It's like a program code, and it’s like I write it again each time, and the body must remember it myself. He tried to teach me how to memorize techniques with my body, not my head, but then realized that it was useless and focused on one technique - nikkyo. He said that in most life cases, one is enough. I worked out only its variations. Sensei ordered the other students to suddenly grab my hand so that I would not have time to think and the body would react automatically. And you know, it worked! One day Tom and I had a fight, I turned away from him, he wanted to turn me around, took my hand and I automatically applied nikkyo. This, of course, did not help our relationship at all.

Donna introduced this picture and gave a laugh. She tried to drown it and bit her lip, but the more she fought, the more laughter seethed in her. Cam stared at her, raising her eyebrows.

- Sor ... Sorry, I know this is not funny, but I ... I just can’t ... I imagine the face of Tom, suddenly brought to his knees by his wife ...

Donna couldn't hold back any longer and laughed, and Cam laughed too, looking at her. They looked at each other and laughed to exhaustion. When the last rumble of laughter subsided, Cam brushed away the tears that appeared in her eyes:

- Thanks. It was like laughter and tears at the same time and so ... purifying.

- What could be better than a good cry? Just a good laugh.

Donna reassuringly took Cam's hand, felt a reciprocal squeeze, and unexpectedly hugged Cam. And her heart began to beat faster when Cam hugged her back.

[soopranatural]

Who I was looking for -Part 16

Summary: Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you're not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words "Sorry, you're not who I was looking for" are written in black ink on your skin.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining, insecurity, etc

Words: 1048

Marsterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Part 15  Series Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

Getting ahead of your work apparently payed off, because on Friday you finish early. It's only three forty and you're already done. You smile at yourself as you click send on your last email for the day, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks. You laugh, stretching back with your hands over your head and letting out a loud groan and then a sigh when your spine pops back into place.

You glance at your phone absently, noting you have a missed call from Michael and a text from Anna. You unlock your phone, reading the text twice before it sinks in.

My water broke.

"SHIT!"

Your panicked shout echoes slightly in the empty room as you immediately tense up again and flail out of your desk chair to start stuffing all your stuff into your bag, murmuring a string of curses under your breath.

"Shit, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck"

The text had been sent ten minutes ago, so she could already be in labor. Wait no, that was ridiculous. Or was it? You don't know shit about babies.

Dammit kid, you weren't supposed to arrive until next week.

You stumble all about your office, checking the computer is switched off and that you haven't forgotten anything before snatching your coat from the back of your chair and practically flying out the door, coat trailing behind you like a kite's tail.

You're just about to get to the elevator when someone turns the corner and bumps into you head on. You stumble back, letting out a small 'oof' as the air is nocked right out of you. He holds you by the arms, steadying you and preventing you from falling on your ass.

You look up and meet his eyes, and oh god, what shade of blue is that?

You step back, freeing yourself from Bucky's arms and shaking yourself from the daze you snapped into.

"Sorry!" You yelp "I-I'm late, um" you don't know what you're saying, but your brain is running a mile a minute. He opens his mouth to speak but snaps it shut and furrows his eyebrows when you continue to stumble over your words, your eyes looking all around. Your bag, your coat, his eyes. "Sorry again! I gotta go"

You start to leave, pushing past him with an awkward smile only for him to grab you by the wrist to stop you again. You shift, trying to subtly free yourself from his grip. You really, really need to go.

"Hey, is everything alright? I was on my way to your office." You grimace, dammit kid.

You twist yourself from his grip, continuing your brisk walk to the elevator, he follows you. "Yeah um, everything's alright" you tap your foot while you wait for the elevator to get to your floor. "My friend is giving birth apparently. And I asked for Friday next week, because her due date was on Saturday" you huff "Now I have to get a plane ticket somehow, cancel the one I already bought too. Hopefully I'll arrive before the kid pops out." Bucky chuckles beside you, pressing the button for the ground floor.

"Relax doll" he picks at a metal plate from his arm with his right hand "I can take you"

You turn to look at him, eyebrow raised "You do realize I said plane right? It's not like it's a half hour drive."

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "We'll take a jet." You do a double take, looking at him with wide eyes "Stark won't mind." You can only stare at him.

He huffs a laugh and extends his hand to you, you stare at it. "Give me your phone, you can text me your address" you hand him your phone automatically, still processing his previous words. He gives it back and you pocket it.

"There, text me the address when you get home." You nod.

The elevator dings and you jump, jerking back into action. "Oh! Um, okay. See you later then!" You wave at him, then shake your head as you sprint towards the subway station.

-

Luckily you packed a bag yesterday so you could leave in a hurry, you didn't think you would leave until next week, but still. You quickly change into more comfortable clothes, deciding to cancel your plane ticket once you're there, once everything's calmed down.

Your phone dings with a text notification, it's from Bucky, and it's just a question mark. You huff, rolling your eyes even as you send him your address. You know Tony probably won't let him borrow a jet, but even a ride to the airport would be nice.

You hurry out the door as you shrug a jacket on. You lock your apartment behind you and turn to head down the stairs, practically vibrating, feeling like you already lost too much time. You hear the roaring sound of an engine and your brow furrows it sounds weird, too big, that can't be a car. You turn to look over the balcony and then promptly drop your duffel on the floor beside you.

"Holy shit" you whisper. Hovering above you, right over the parking lot, is a Stark jet.

You thunder down the stairs, and by the time you come down he's already landed. You can't seem to close your gaping mouth, and you laugh loudly with shock when Bucky comes out the jet, arms spread and grin wide on his face.

"I can't believe this!" You exclaim, you know it's one of the small jets, but still it looks comically big parked in your building's parking lot. "Oh my god you're insane!"

He laughs again and takes your bag from your limp arms. You can't believe this, you can't believe him. You stare at the jet and it's sleek form, parked bizarrely right next to where you live. You laugh again, the sound dulled under the roaring engine.

"You coming?!" Yells Bucky, grin as wide as yours feels.

"Oh!" You come out of your stupor "yeah! Hah! Oh my god" you give an excited wiggle and step onto the jet (Jesus, a Stark jet. What is your life?) the door closes behind you and you try to contain the excited squeal you want to let out.

You fail.

Part 17

Remember to leave feedback!! (Hearing what you think about it helps me improve and also makes me super happy)

(You can be added to a series taglist, my forevers, SPN, Marvel, Sam or Dean tags, just shoot me an ask)

@imeannooffensebabybut​ @diinofayce​ @mia-at-work​ @photography-to-all​ @artemis521​ @38leticia​ @belovedbarnes @yourfriendlyneighborspooderman @theseldomseenkilljoy​ @so-you-must-like-me-for-me​ @a-kiddo-with-a-doggo​ @mymourningtea​ @rachelmc97​ @jakaraannodine​ @emrysaaryn​ @obscurilicious​ @lilypalmer1987��� @amachnowski @samijolles​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @an-emotionallycrippled-fangirl​ @sidemenaremylife​ @blu-eyed-devil​ @maddyfitzhenry​ @themermaidpirate​ @sebastianstanisagift​ @artistic22dragon​ @loving-life-my-way​ @blackwireframeglasses @king-kapelput @mrsdaamneron​ @april-98​ @aussiefangirlwolfy​ @rosep16​ @waywardsoulpainter​ @shawn-is-adorable​ @invisibleteen22​ @silvermisst​ @titilllando​ @thebookisbtr​ @stone2576​ @amheimb @1stladyofhell​ @buckbuckbuckyy​ @pleasefixthepain​ @grey-stardancer​ @wideeyedparadise​

Forever tags:

@artgurl559-blog​ @amynotsantiago​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @18crazybutcutealsopsycho​ @mandilion76​ @ailynalonso15​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @iamwarrenspeace​ @call--me--princess @emmysthougts​ @ladylachesis​ @raylin19 @hells-angel-hevens-demon @sgarrett49​ @jane00doe @boxywrites​ @lilyleely​ @gemini75eeyore​ @winchestaelson​ @wh1sp3r1ng-impala​ @blue-eyed-boys​ @gallifreyansass​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @asslikegilinsky​ @imaginesthatmakemehappy​ @the-asexual-reaper​ @xxxunluvablexxx​

Marvel tags:

@wildefire​ @slender--spirit​ @f-lower-field-s @mala-firebringer​ @buckymorelikefuckmebarnes​ @paperburrito390​ @marvel-fanfiction​ @avesagittarius​ @alex-hamiltonian @samwinchxtr​ @weirddemiwood​ @transboypeteparker​ @pinkwinds​ @fairchild21​

[mysticcamiluss]

Another Ending - Chapter I

Summary:  What would have happened if you became the secretary of Ray (following Another Story's Prologue bad ending)? Would he search for another girl to fill your place to accomplish his original plan? Everlasting paradise requires some sacrifices... For you to love him and never leave him he'd have to recruit someone you cherish so you won't feel lonely with only him by your side forever; but if this plan fails again, you might hate him...

~ ~ ~

ISABELLA

Hello! Oh, well… Maybe I should introduce myself first: my name is Isabella Caggiano and I was a 20 years old student which aimed to be a fashion designer when my life turned a sudden flip, but let’s start from the very beginning: both me and my twin brother Isaiah were born in a religious middle class family. We have an older sister by 2 years, Madison, and our parents, Maria and Mariano Caggiano (yes, they were meant to be), were psychologists that worked in a small study downtown where they interviewed selected people for bigger emprises that want them to start working in there.

Everything related to my childhood sounds nice till now, right? Well, everything WAS right until a car accident that happened to occur while we all returned home after a Christmas party at our Uncle’s household (which lived in a town nearby) took away our parents lives when when were only 10 and 12 years old respectively. After that, we started living along Uncle Robert and his new wife, Dorothy, until they kick us out when Madison turned 18 since “she was capable of taking care of herself and her siblings by that age” according to them.

Putting aside the past that impacted us negatively, we were always really united; fact that made the separation even more difficult when I decided to move alone to the Capital in order to complete my grade, leaving behind my beloved siblings under the promise of returning in a couple of years.

That brings us to the very beginning: the “sudden flip”. I was sparing some time after class at a local café I used to visit almost every day while searching for some app to download when a particular one caught my attention: Mystic Messenger. The Play Store showed no description and there weren’t any comments or ratings yet, the icon of the app was all black with a golden appearance mail envelope in it.

Download initiated. 1%... 20%... 80%... Installing…

Then, the screen of my phone turned into black with green numbers and weird phrases… Coding? I did remember seeing things like that from when Madison was practicing back at home, her being an informatics student.

Unknown has entered the chatroom. You’ve got a new unread message.

“Hi! Finally, someone to talk to, thank god…” In that moment, when I first got contacted by ‘Unknown’ I even thought that maybe I downloaded some kind of malware but my antivirus would have noticed me about that so I quickly erased that option from my mind.

“Hello.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you ^^

Isabella…

I’ve been waiting for you.

Hope I didn’t surprise you.

Don’t be nervous, I’m just an ‘ordinary’ person~”

“Why r u emphasizing the word ordinary…? It’s making me even more nervous.”

“Have you ever heard of modesty? lol

In fact, I’m really excited. You’re the very first person to come!

I was so worried that no one will come in as I was making this app.”

“What’s this app for?”

“Oh, I was about to explain it to you. But, can I ask you a favor? There is something I really want you to help me with.”

“What is it?”

“Well… This app isn’t just a messenger app, it’s a messenger game app and I wanted to ask you if you could test it out for me.

You’d be able to chat with me but also with good-looking/handsome AIs.

There are also amusing hidden stories…

You just have to tell me your honest opinion ^^”

“OK! I’ll try it.”

“t h a n k  y o u. I’ll call later…”

Just a half hour later or so I received a call from a private number and the mysterious person in the other side of the line introduced himself as the guy in the chatroom from before. I could only wonder: how the hell did he manage to obtain my number?!

“It’s automatically collected when you log into the chatroom. I called to explain to you about the app because I also thought that talking to you directly would be more credible.” He kept on explaining about this game where the plot is set to open a fundraising party along five characters that are part of an association called R.F.A. I thought that it sounded… kinda fun actually, maybe it could have been a good distraction anytime I felt stressed or tired from college so I happily agreed.

At that time, things started to get awkward: this person that called himself ‘Unknown’ told me  that he’d need me to get over where he was in order for me to play the game by the excuse that it was protected with special data leak prevention security system and even if I downloaded the file, it’s uninstallable; so he needed to directly install it in my smartphone. Did I seemed that dumb? Heading over to a strangers hidden place? It’s not even real and I can’t bother to go there, anyway.

“For real? Then how about this? If you come here and test the game real hard, someone might be interested in you by seeing that. For example… me.”

“I don’t need it. No thanks.” I tried to be polite but this situation creeped me enough already.

“You don’t need me? Sad. I’m so sad… I really believed you were going to make my dream come true… Believed you were the one I would go to paradise with.” The guy was crying? He was acting so devastated I really wanted to help him… contacting a psychiatrist. And he started mumbling things about a so called ‘Paradise’ where he was trying to take me to, apparently.

“I don’t plan to let you go just yet.”

After that I took a deep breath, thinking it would be the last time I hear about him.

That wasn’t the end.

He kept on calling me the following days and I ignored all of those calls until I got tired after a week passed and decided to answer in order to tell him to stop harassing me. Maybe I should have called the cops, but maybe I actually was that dumb enough…

In this phone call he begged forgiveness for not calling that much, I’m not kidding.

“I’ve been thinking of you the whole day, even when I was busy. Miss you, I want to see you.” I thought this was slightly going to the wrong direction but since that moment I couldn’t stop answering anytime his number displayed in my phone screen. Why? I wonder the same thing, maybe I pitied him or maybe… I am as mad as he is.

“Were you waiting for me? I have a secret for you: I actually went to see you yesterday after hanging up. I couldn’t help myself. You’re really talented, actually… Your sketches… They’re awesome… Haha, I like the look you’re making right now. How cute. Ah… damn. Actually, I’m still watching you right now.  I feel like I’m with you as I’m listen to your breath through the phone. You… want to feel me closer like I do, right?” His voice was low, almost in a seductive way… And was he… moaning? I must definitely have been crazy to have a little crush on you, stalker boy, but I don’t regret it at all. Even now, I don’t.

Two days passed and, as always, I decided to wait for his call at the café. He said he liked to keep an eye on me from some meters apart so I thought that maybe, if I pay enough attention, I could finally discover who ‘Unknown’ was.

That would have happened in a fantasy world.

Being as tired as I was after class and because of an important exam I had today, I couldn’t afford to close an eye the whole night, I fell asleep while waiting.

“I’m so glad you’ve wait for me, princess. Poor thing, why don’t we go together? Live happily in paradise… Come with me. You and I, let’s start over. Just the two of us. And play a somewhat… interesting game too. Heh, I don’t think I can let you go after meeting you in person so I’m going to use you as my assistant, he has one too, right? Anyway, I’m still taking you even if you say no… Come, now…”