#i had a lot of clothes piling up and most of it was for spring + summer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blondiedae · 2 months ago

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dry house, wet clothes (nine)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, nine

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, angst, fluff, miscommunication, mentions of drinking, oral (giving, receiving - Johnny is a man obsessed), dirty talk, spitting (only briefly), we’re close to praise kink territory, romantic penetrative sex, rough sex, fingering, breast play (fucking), begging, creampie, use of pet names (babe, baby, Juliet, good girl)

word count. 8,460

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. kim jungwoo, mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, kim dongyoung (doyoung)

author's note. i really struggled with where to cut this off. but, this felt like the best spot, even though it’s a bit short. chapter ten will be (roughly) 20k and there is a lot that happens, once spring comes around. please enjoy a moderately tame chapter before the climax.

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“What happened on New Year’s eve?”

There was an honesty lingering on Jaehyun’s tongue; honesty that needed to roll off the end of it, honesty that needed released. There was a tension in his shoulders, a weight he had developed new muscles specifically to carry. His body ached from the strain, his heart felt the worst of it. Jaehyun had tried, he had taken steps closer and closer to the edge until he got close enough to see just over it; something unknown, something unstable, something ungrounded. And when he saw that, he pulled back and he started over.

He was stuck in a cycle that was destroying him.

Jaehyun looked up at Jungwoo, tried to swallow misdirected malice and asked, “What did you say to her?”

It was accusatory, still slightly misplaced. Jaehyun knew it came back to him, all of it came back to Jaehyun and honesty that couldn’t, wouldn’t roll off his tongue. Still, he braced himself for impact, braced himself for honesty he wasn’t owed from Jungwoo, “I don’t know.”

“Just tell me.”

Jungwoo stopped in his tracks, fiddled with something on Jaehyun’s counter and shook his head. It had only been three days, the memory would always be wrapped in a haze of alcohol and music, laughter and the buzzing from his kitchen light. Jungwoo could remember most of it, some of it, a piece of the way you’d looked at him and the sinking feeling in his stomach when he knew, “I messed up.”

“How?”

“She…she was looking for you. And I just said that you missed her.” Jungwoo let out a breath, “I think I said that your mom missed her. So, she knew.”

“Oh.”

“I thought she already knew.”

It came back to him; Jaehyun and the honesty he cowered away from. He looked at Jungwoo and tried to step closer to the edge, “It’s my fault.”

“Yeah.” He’d never sugarcoat things. If Jaehyun could, if he could clear his head, he might think to thank Jungwoo for that, “It is.”

More weight, more tension. Jaehyun was close to caving and crumbling under it.

“What happened on New Year’s eve?” Mark’s head was in his hands, on the sofa across from Jaehyun, “I feel like I’ve been hungover for four days.”

Jaehyun looked at him easily, smiled and shook his head, “Did you have fun?” Answering Mark’s question with his own, piling on more weight. Mark didn’t need to know. Realistically, Mark was asking for his own clarity. So, Jaehyun avoided an answer with substance and added on, “You got pretty drunk.”

4:56pm What happened on New Year’s eve?

[4 Missed Calls from Johnny]

Jaehyun’s hands clenched around his phone, feeling it vibrate for the fifth time in the last six hours. He rolled his shoulders, tried to redistribute the weight, tried to breathe. Johnny had called and he called, then he waited before he called again and Jaehyun couldn’t pull himself to the edge to pick up. Instead, he watched his screen light up and go dark four times, instead he let a text and four calls go unanswered, avoiding them until he didn’t have a choice.

Until Jaehyun’s intercom alerted him and Johnny made himself unavoidable, “Open up.”

Jaehyun did.

Johnny had his hands in his pockets and a genuine, curious look on his face. He looked Jaehyun up, then down, then pushed past him to come inside, “Good. You’re alive.”

“Johnny.”

“What’s going on with you, man?” His friend put a hand on his shoulder. Johnny grabbed at him, squeezed at the tension and tried to relieve it, concerned, “Are you okay?”

Jaehyun lied. He was so good at lying, at looking his friends in the eyes and saying, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re good?” Lie. Jaehyun nodded and Jaehyun lied. Johnny patted his back, “Good. Now, what’s the truth?”

There was no way to answer that. He pushed his door closed, quieting the wind outside and not risking looking down the street to where he knew you were, where you’d been since you’d told him you needed space. You couldn’t be his friend. Jaehyun shook his head, “That is the truth.”

“I’ll ask a different question, then?” Johnny sat down, using the back of Jaehyun’s couch as a chair, “What happened on New Year’s eve.”

It’s my fault. Jaehyun blinked. He put more distance between himself and Johnny, himself and the edge, Jaehyun and honesty, “I don’t know, John. I don’t remember a lot of it.”

“Try.”

“Maybe you should ask her.”

“I will.” Johnny stood up then, “I’m worried about her. I’m worried about you too, man. So, talk to me.”

One year ago, you were standing in the same spot Johnny was. One year ago, when Jaehyun had spent days wishing he’d kissed you at midnight, you were in his living room, in his sweatshirt, safely in his heart. It felt naive to think you’d always be there, now. Jaehyun felt his hands, his ears, his chest warm at the thought - loss, you being gone for a while, maybe for good. He had to hold onto something to keep his composure, to keep himself from spiraling.

Jaehyun took another step away from Johnny and gave a pinch of the truth, “We’re just growing up, John.”

Johnny nodded, like he accepted that as an answer. Jungwoo’s party had been an interesting way to recognize growth; the way all of you looked so out of place in your uniforms and, at the same time, the way you looked just as you always had. Jaehyun couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t walk himself away from how much you all had changed. He fell in love with the girl in that uniform, he’d traced constellations into your skin, he made promises he thought he’d have time to keep. You weren’t her, anymore. The fragments of her he could still see were wedged into places they didn’t fit - shattered remnants of you in high school, you in college, you and him in every moment before October. Before Johnny told me he likes me.

“Yeah, we are.” Johnny would never give up. He was too assured to do that, Johnny was riddled with determination. Five missed calls, one text and Johnny on Jaehyun’s doorstep just to ask, “What does that mean for you?”

It was enough to stop Jaehyun from running, not enough to pull him back. Not yet. He raised his head, shifted in place and gave more of the truth than he anticipated, “We’re growing apart.”

There was silence after that, such an uncomfortable pause. It stretched on and on and on until Johnny nodded, looked down at his hands and asserted, “It doesn’t have to mean that.”

You got to choose, so it did. Jaehyun didn’t want to be bitter, he didn’t like the taste that had lingered for months, intensified in the new year. It was the decision you’d come to and he didn’t fight it. Seeing you with tear-stained cheeks, broken in front of him and begging, Jaehyun didn’t think he could fight it. His head shook, a resentful laugh preceding more honesty, “It does. It’s what…it’s what we decided, for now.”

“We?”

“Yeah.”

“And what does that mean?”

Relentless, determined. Johnny wouldn’t give up. Jaehyun took in a breath, he’d it and let it out in a rush, “We’re just…not going to be friends for a while. We’re - I’m giving her space.” Jaehyun added, “And you.”

Johnny countered, “Why do I need space?” While Jaehyun took too long to answer, Johnny took the time to figure it out. His tongue clicked, “Ah. Do you wanna talk about that?”

“Not really.” Jaehyun corrected, “There’s not much to talk about.”

“There was enough for you to need space from her.” Like it was a joke, Johnny raised his hand and corrected, “From us. Is that what it is?”

“It’s…”

“What is it?”

“I don’t…”

“You gotta just say it, man.” Johnny knew to push, Johnny knew everything to say to push and get Jaehyun to plummet, “What’s going on?”

Jaehyun reverted back to pinching off pieces of the truth, “I don’t want to see her get hurt, again.”

He didn’t. He didn’t want to watch the way you’d collapse into yourself, he couldn’t watch you shatter again. Jaehyun was already holding onto shards and fragments and pieces you’d left behind. He couldn't stomach you looking at him the way you did on New Year’s eve, the way you had for the last three months. Jaehyun couldn't hear your voice break and crack and strain when you spoke, especially if it was to say his name. And Jaehyun couldn’t be the one to do it; to break you, to hurt you.

If you needed space, he’d give it to you. Because Jaehyun had little else to give.

Johnny shook his head. They’d circled around this conversation before, they’d visited the topic in your yard. He wanted to remind Jaehyun that he wasn’t the only one who cared about you, that what Johnny felt was so secure and stable. How Johnny felt, how he hoped you felt. He wanted to shout at Jaehyun for ever thinking that he would handle you with anything but care.

Johnny was somewhere near disbelief when he reminded Jaehyun, “I was there, too. When he left”

“What?”

“I was there. I know what that did.” Johnny paused, he settled the anger that was forcing its way out and then, he went on, “I know she’s your best friend, but you’re not the only one that doesn’t want to see her hurting.”

Sicheng. The four of you, the three of you who knew and Mark who had only been told, hadn’t spoken about him in years. In the last three months, you’d come back to it and back to it, again. Jaehyun would go with it, he’d let it happen; Jaehyun could let Johnny think he was talking about Sicheng, he could hide in his shadow and take more time. Time he was losing, time that was fleeting.

Jaehyun lied and he hid and he tucked himself away in a shadow when he said, “She hadn’t been in a relationship, a real one, since…I, look, I just want you guys to have time to figure it out.” Figure out that it doesn’t work. “So that it doesn’t fall apart.”

His stomach churned. Jaehyun hated himself, hated this moment. He hated that Johnny was on his couch, watching and waiting and likely seeing through his lie. But, Jaehyun hated, more than anything, when Johnny just nodded and stood up, “Whose decision was it? The whole space thing?”

Swallowing, without any real reason but like it came naturally to him, Jaehyun lied, “Mine.”

He scoffed. Johnny scoffed and tilted his head, backing towards the door, “Jae, who do you think is hurting her?”

📻

It was empty; your chest felt like it had been hollowed out and pushed full of air. There was only space for your heart to beat lowly, for it to echo in an empty chamber only half full. Johnny had told you you’ve always been the best with change.

In a rush of honesty, of vulnerability, you told him I think I’m afraid of change.

He knew to push you, to encourage you, to watch you accept something new and give you time to let it grow. But, Jaehyun wasn’t something new.

You’d held onto certain seeds for too long, you’d kept them locked away and let them rot in soil that didn’t suit them. The Earth was tainted, where you’d planted your friendship with Jaehyun, everything he’d meant to you, all that the two of you had been. It wasn’t suitable for growth. The ground was too cold, in January, in December, in November. It was drowning in rain, too wet in October and in September. In August and July and June, the sun was too bright, too harsh; it dried up the Earth and cracked around the seed. And, in May, April, March and February the weather had always been too unpredictable.

Your heart broke, it wilted, it withered in your chest knowing there had never been a time for the two of you - for you and Jaehyun - to twist together, to intertwine in the Earth and burst through the ground towards the sky in bloom.

It was a change you couldn’t make, one you couldn’t adapt too no matter how much time you’d had.

Johnny hands held you gently, planted something so small inside a pot and when it grew too big, moved it to the next. He built greenhouses, sanctuaries for you to keep growing - hoping you’d let him tend to it, let him grow with you. Everything was changing around you and he made sure you could have time to adapt.

He held your hand, held you close to him - just the two of you on your couch, lit up by the screen across the room. playing a movie you’d seen before. Johnny breathed evenly, encouraging your lungs to fill as his lungs did, urging your chest to rise and fall in time. He’d been more delicate, he’d worn gloves and tended to you for five days, giving you both time to settle into the new year.

He laughed at the movie, squeezed your arm tighter when he noticed you didn’t. Johnny pulled on his gloves and asked you, with lips pressed to your temple, “Where'd you go?”

“I’m here.”

Johnny knew when to push, he knew what to say, he knew what moves to make, “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Your mind dissected his question; pulled it apart word by word, letter by letter and left it a torn apart mess. Your own answer came to a halt at your lips, stopping itself too abruptly for you to react. Words were lost, you were lost, “I don’t…”

I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t have an answer that won’t tear me apart. You were spiraling, again and again and again. Looping around the truth, I lost my best friend.

You’d told Jaehyun I don’t think I can be your friend, right now. Every word felt like a knife dragging along your throat, every syllable was another piece of your heart, your soul, the person you’d always been being chipped away at. You’d made the decision, you got to choose, and it still destroyed you. It wasn’t enough to say you’d lost your best friend, it was a loss greater than that.

It was years of him, of you, of the two of you together. It was years of trying to find a word for what you were to each other, a feeling even close to how you felt. It was two decades of your lives seeping into one another until there was little that was left separate. You had intertwined, but you’d refused to grow. So, how you felt for Jaehyun sat just under the surface, clinging to fragments of light, until it wilted away.

You couldn’t stop your body from shaking, the tears that spilled, slipped down your cheeks as a result. Johnny watched you, saw everything erupt in real time. His heart pounded in his chest, “It’s okay, babe. I’m so sorry.”

You’d never blame Johnny. You wanted to tell him that, wanted the truth to spill out of you as quickly, as easily as your tears did. Every breath you took felt like fire in your lungs, “No, it’s…”

Words failed. Johnny held you closer to him, “Take your time. I’m here, I’m listening.”

Listening to you gasp for air, listening as sobs were the only thing that broke through your lips. Johnny was listening as you forced out consonants and breathed in on vowels, as everything you tried to say fell flat. Your palms were sweating, itching as they held onto him. Spoken words failed and Johnny was right; racing thoughts were running into barriers on their way out, tangled in your vocal cords, held hostage behind a barrier. You pushed yourself away from him, croaking out one word, “Stay.”

His eyes followed you as you walked up the stairs, he listened until he could hear you coming back down. Then Johnny watched as you sat at the end of the couch, until he felt the chill of the space between you, and saw the book in your hands. You scribbled, you scratched, the movie played behind you. Johnny waited until you closed it, your name facing up, and handed it to him.

I told Jaehyun we couldn’t be friends.

Scribbled out above it, Jaehyun and I

I’m not friends

Johnny read over the words, head nodding slowly, “I know.” He reached his hand out, again. He wrote underneath, Tell me about it.

You’d never blame Johnny.

You thought, you closed your eyes and thought of what to say. Then, you wrote, I just think this change was too big for both of us.

And Johnny’s heart sank, I’m sorry

“It��s not your fault.” You scooted closer, “Johnny, I…”

You looked back down at the book, how his writing got smaller when he apologized for something that wasn’t ever his fault. It never would be. Your fingers traced the two words, tried to keep tears at bay, then wrote, I want to be with you. You said you wanted us to grow and I want that, too. I want to be on the same page, always.

Johnny couldn’t help but scribble, We’re on the same page, right now.

When he slipped the book back to you, when you read his message, the two of you laughed. Honesty ran through your veins, vulnerability and comfort and safety in his presence. Johnny smiled at you, motioned for you to pass the book back so he could add, How do you feel?

“Terrible.” Until it gets easier to say, you can write it. With ease, with comfort, you confided in Johnny, “It’s temporary. It’s supposed to be temporary.”

“Hm.” He nodded, “Give it time.”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s weird?” Johnny knew it wasn’t that simple, he knew there was more to be said, “Try again.”

“It hurts. A lot.”

“How can I help?” He reached his hands out again, you put the book behind you and took them both in yours, “Tell me what I can do.”

You’d be asking the world of him, you’d be asking too much. It was selfish, “Just stay.”

Johnny told you, “I’ll stay.”

📻

Mark had snowflakes on his eyelashes, nestled in his hair, clinging to fabric of the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. The chain of the swing squeaked with every push of his legs, unable to freeze despite the cold, “You and Jaehyun aren’t talking.”

“How’d you know?”

“It’s been a month since we were all together.”

“It has.”

“Will you tell me?” You brushed the flakes of white sprinkled in his chocolate colored hair, reaching across from your own swing and rattling the chains as you moved. Mark shivered, cheeks rosy from the cold, “Please?”

You told him, “You need a hat. You’ll get sick.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

The ice in your lungs made your breath form like a cloud of smoke in front of you when you said, “We’re just changing. Everything is changing.”

“Yeah, everything always does.” Mark pushed off the ground again, “Why does that mean you stop talking?”

Your hands shook, wrapping around the chain links holding your swing up. You could blame the cold; snow had been falling for three days straight, hiding the sun behind the clouds they carried it. You could blame the wind that swept flurries across the park, down the slides left untouched in the winter. Mark wouldn’t believe you, but eventually he’d swing himself into forgetting to press, he’d stop asking and move onto something else. Because Mark didn’t need to be involved in it.

Not more than he already was. Mark was just as tangled in a mess you couldn’t make sense of, seeing things you’d never notice and still grappling to piece it all together. You looked at him, “You said it, I think. He’s just been weird”

“So, it’s his fault?”

“Fuck.” Sighing you looked back down, where your feet had been buried into the snow, “No. It’s not his fault. It’s…I don’t know Mark. I’ve been weird, too.”

“Does Johnny know?”

“Yeah, Johnny knows.”

“So, I’m the only one that doesn’t?” He shook his head, “That’s not fair.”

None of it was.

You told him what you’d told Johnny, “It’s temporary.” Then you added on what Johnny told you, “Give it time.”

Mark nodded. He looked to the sky, caught snowflakes on his tongue, swaying back and forth next to you, “I’m really happy for you and Johnny, you know that, right?”

“I know, Mark.”

“Really. I mean it, like, so much.” He looked directly at you. Mark stopped moving to catch your attention, to make sure you were paying attention, just like Johnny did. You wondered how much influence you’d all had on him over all these years. Mark was only thirteen when you’d met him, “I think it’s really a good thing and I know what Jaehyun said, it’s messed up that you know he said it, but I don’t want that to stop you guys.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re all adults.” Part of you wanted to argue, wanted to coddle and coo at Mark like you always had, but you let him continue, “I think Johnny…I think he might really be, like, into you. In a really solid way, you know?”

Watching Mark dance around the subject made your heart swell, made your palms sweat despite the cold. He gnawed at his lip, doing everything he could not to steal the words from Johnny, take away from a moment that wasn’t his. Mark looked away when you agreed, “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

“I think…I mean, life doesn’t stop changing. I don’t know what I’m doing after I graduate, Jaemin doesn’t even know if he is graduating and-” Mark stopped himself, centered himself and went on, “You guys are my family. You’re my one constant, like, ever. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t think you’ll tell me, but I need all three of you.”

There was a pressure building, unstoppable the way it rushed in. A pressure disguised as promises you didn’t know if you’d be able to keep. You promised Mark that you wouldn’t let a rift become a tear, a tear become a black hole that took everything in a blink. You didn’t know if there was any way you could stop it; you didn’t think that you could.

“I’ll do my best, Mark.” Your voice was hushed, lost in the wind, “I promise, I’m doing my best.”

He added, “You don’t have to stay or do something you don’t want to, just because of me, though. Or Jaehyun.”

“I know.”

“But, if it doesn’t work out between you and Johnny, let it be because of something real.” Mark grinned when he said, “Johnny listens to Imagine Dragons, that might be something.”

📻

Johnny thought to say it, when January passed by in a flurry, in blustery days, in snowstorms. He thought to tell you when his hands were wrapped around you, holding to his chest in your bathtub. The water was cooling, his hands had wrinkled and you were calm, comfortable against him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses and whispering praise. He could’ve slipped in three more words, eight more letters and thought nothing of it.

Johnny would think about nothing else until he did.

His fingers ran down your arms, where they rested at your hips and took your hands in his. He found his voice and a substitute praise to whisper, “I love the way you smell, babe.”

You giggled, his breath fanning over your cooling skin and tickling your neck, “We smell the same most of the time. You always use my soap.”

“Mhm. So I can smell you on me all day.”

Johnny scraped his teeth where his lips lingered, found a spot to mark and remind you he’d been there. You moaned, sinking further into him, “Johnny.”

Another substitute, “I love the way you say my name.”

He thought of saying it at Doyoung’s birthday dinner, surrounded by your friends in the dim light of the restaurant. Your lips were red, again, begging to be kissed and with every drink he took, he was finding it harder and harder to stop himself. Johnny was quickly running out of options that weren’t confess or kiss her.

When you smiled - when you clapped your hands and threw your head back at something Ten had said or done that was lost on Johnny - all he wanted to do was sweep you up and away. He wanted to stop the conversation, to draw attention, to make a scene just so he could tell you everything he was feeling. Johnny wanted to steal Doyoung’s thunder and face the consequences of that, later.

Instead, he let a smile stretch his face until it ached, he let his lips come close to your ear so he could tell you, “I love your smile, baby.”

You hadn’t heard him, boisterous and blissful amongst your friends. Johnny would let the moment fade, he’d take the loss of a confession just to see you smile like that. January had started in a haze and you’d worked so hard to come out of it, Johnny only wanted to keep you in the light.

Taeyong caught his attention, from across the table. Taeyong could see it written all over Johnny’s face. He took a sip of his drink and grinned, mouthing, “You should tell her.”

Johnny took another look at you and leaned back in his seat, miming back, “Not yet.”

He almost said it, in the candle light, in the ambience of your bedroom the night of his own birthday. When you’d handed him his gift and whispered, “Happy birthday.”

He was another year older, he might have been bolder, but Johnny was speechless when he unwrapped the paper and held his gift in his hands. You shied away, you tried to be subtle and gauge his reaction, “Say something.”

”How did you - where did you-”

”Taeyong painted them.”

Johnny’s hands wrapped around two canvases; thin black outlines filled with vibrant color, blending together and speckled with accents of silver and gold. Taeyong’s signature was at the bottom of both paintings, but your smile was the centerpiece of both. One of you and Johnny on Halloween, your wings behind you as Johnny held you in a blurred crowd; his armor was shining, not nearly as bright as you had been. You as an angel, you as his Juliet. Johnny as Romeo, completely enraptured.

The second one was from dinner at Taeyong’s; in the limbo between Halloween and Christmas, when calling you his was still brand new. Johnny was wrapped around you, guiding your hands as they stirred the pot, your eyes were only on him, perfect lips pulled into a smile.

”I told him to use his imagination.” You felt nervous; how you did after Johnny’s first confession. A strange mix of uncertainty and cautious curiosity, “He has reference pictures. Well, I have them. I didn’t know they existed until he showed me.”

“Baby.”

“There’s actually another one he’s still working on from New Year's eve. He couldn’t get it done in time.”

Johnny found another substitute, what he wanted to say threatening to spill out. His heart was overflowing into his throat, into his head, drowning out rational thought. Johnny didn’t really want to be rational, “I love it. I love them. I love-”

You cut him off, “There’s more.”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah.” Your voice fell, just above a whisper when you instructed, “Close your eyes.”

So Johnny did. You slipped the paintings from his hand, put them somewhere safe and came back to him. Johnny could only listen as you moved around, he could only tune into your breathing, the scent of your perfume and your soap and your skin when you passed by. You took his hands in your, sending electricity through his veins at your touch when he guided him to sit on the edge of your bed. Then, at once, you brought back all of his senses and told him, “Open your eyes.”

Then there you were; wrapped like a present in red satin. It was tied around your breast, a set that came to a close in a bow between them. Matching red panties hugged your hips, held tight to your skin.

“Unwrap me.”

Johnny was speechless again, breathless, thoughtless in front of you. The red fabric wrapped around your skin made his head spin, the scent of you made his mouth water. You were a brilliant present, a beautiful gift and you were just for him, “Baby, I’m…”

“Please, Johnny.”

“Come here.” You came closer, legs stumbling beneath you. Johnny hissed, hands on your hips, trailing up your sides, brushing over where your hardened nipple poked through. His hands pulled at the fabric, the thick ribbons of satin soft in his palms. When he tugged at it, when your breasts spilled out, Johnny’s mouth was helplessly dry, “My beautiful baby.”

He called your name, whispered it as he cupped your breast and squeezed. You moaned for him, sighed and pleaded for him, “Use me. Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

He echoed, “All mine.”

Johnny’s lips were on yours, a heated kiss, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. His hands groped at any part of you he could feel; your tits, your ass, coming around to cup your soaking pussy. He pulled at the waistband, up to lift you closer, up until the fabric pulled and rubbed against your clit like torture; toe-curling friction between your legs.

“You're soaking for me, baby. Always so fucking wet for me.” Johnny slotted his thigh between yours, pulled you down onto it, “Go on, baby. Fuck yourself on me.”

He watched, mesmerized as you rolled your hips, sloppy and uncoordinated, lost in him and the feeling. Your eyes closed, your mouth hung open; when Johnny clenched his muscles, your vision blurred, “Fuck, Johnny. Feels so good.”

“You gonna cum like this? My Juliet is gonna cum fucking herself on my thigh?” Johnny latched himself to your nipple again, mumbling around the hardening bud, “Or do you need my help?”

“Need your help. Need you, Johnny.”

“You want my fingers first, baby?”

“Please, God, please.” In an instant, his fingers slipped into your panties and were buried in your cunt, wetness dripping down onto his wrist. Johnny’s lips switched to wrap around your other nipple, biting and sucking and pulling until you screamed out his name. Until your head fell back in a breathless moan, “Oh my God.”

“You're so good for me. My good girl, huh?” His words sent a shiver down your spine, Johnny was losing his mind - losing every sense he’d just been so wrapped up in. He was babbling every thought that came to mind and increasingly worried that he’d let the one thing he’d held close spill. He felt your pussy clench around his fingers, “Fuck, baby.”

“Johnny wanna cum.”

Three fingers curling into your cunt sent you over the edge, pulled you into a white oblivion and had your head spinning. Johnny watched you fall apart, felt your juices soak through his pants and felt the way his cock throbbed, painfully, against the fabric. He chanted your name, kissed it into your skin, until you came down shaking in his arms.

“Come back to me, baby.” Words spoken into your open mouth, coaxing and taunting and so full of something unsaid, “Open your eyes.”

Johnny’s hand held your jaw, made it so you’d only see him when you fell back to Earth, “Wanna…want you.”

“What do you want, baby?” Your mouth dropped open in response, eyes heavy and head still spinning. Johnny’s eyebrow raised, a quiet ‘Oh’ on his lips before he instructed, “Knees, baby.”

You slid off of him, knees landing on carpet in an indelicate plop. Johnny smiled down at you, holding your chin again to tilt your head upward. Your hands were shaking when they reached out to touch him, trembling from the aftermath of your orgasm and in anticipation for Johnny. His cock was bulging, the fabric of his pants pulled tight over it, and you’d never felt so desperate to have something in your mouth.

He watched your every move like a hawk, the way you unzipped his pants, how your hands struggled to find a grip strong enough to shimmy them down. Johnny held his cock in his hand, stroking it while you gazed up at him; entranced, enraptured. The head leaked, precum dripping from the tip when he leaned forward and tapped it against your waiting lips, “Open.”

You did, sucking him in inch by inch. Johnny held the back of your head, “That’s it, baby. Relax for me, let me in.” He pushed his hips forward slowly, agonizingly slow, almost screaming when your moan vibrated against his cock in your throat, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

You bobbed your head, Johnny helped to guide you with a harsh grip. He was moaning and moaning, head thrown back and still wanting more. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing your perfect tits; wrapped up for him, spilling out for him, bouncing right in front of him while you rode him. When Johnny opened his eyes, he could see them still bouncing as you bobbed on his cock, took every inch of him that he could.

His hand pulled you off of him, gently and with a dazed smile, “Up on your knees a little bit, baby. Come here.”

Johnny pulled at the satin, used it to guide you closer to his hips, his leaking cock. You watched, curious and compliant, as he positioned himself between your tits and gathered the ribbon to push them tight around his cock, “Spit on it, baby.”

You did, drool spilling past your lips and landing on him and you, slipping between your breast while Johnny’s hips bucked up. He groaned, the friction just right, driving him insane. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t control the words that came out. Johnny was too far gone, lost in you and in every sensation you made him feel, “Your tits feel so fucking good, baby. Love fucking them, love - fuck - I love it.”

Four words were easy to say, masked and hidden in praises. He shook, Johnny was shaking, wanting to say so much more. His hips lifted and fell, thrusting against your with his legs spread wide. He was close to cumming, eyes opening to see the way your tits bounced on his dick, “Oh, shit.”

“Cum for me, Johnny.”

“No baby. Not yet. Wanna…need to cum inside you, baby.” He was begging, helpless, “Please.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your heart was pounding in your ears, mind foggy and ready to do anything he asked you to, ready to please Johnny and see if the something that lingered became more clear. You wrapped your lips around his tip, one more time, sucking and then releasing it with a pop. Johnny could only think clearly enough to moan your name, leaning back when you crawled on top of him and took hold of his cock again. You coated him in you, in the wetness that dripped from your core and covered your thighs, his, the sheets underneath you.

“Johnny, look at me.” You felt like crying, you couldn’t place why. You wanted to see him in the fog, through the haze, the only clear thing in an oblivion. You sought him out and begged him, “Please look at me.”

Your voice was the only thing grounding him, holding him steady. Johnny sat up on his elbow, hand back on your face to focus you, “I’m here. I’m right here baby.”

“Hold me.”

Johnny thought to say it, then. He could’ve looked in your eyes, pulled you to him and told you, as simply as he’d like. But he stayed silent, he didn’t let this moment go. Johnny wrapped his arms around you, lifted you up and lowered you slowly, slowly, slowly down onto his waiting cock. The two of you were silent, gasping in air that was shared between the two of you, sighing names like prayers and promises.

“Johnny.”

He called for you, too.

“Move.”

He did, hips rolling up, “Look at you. Look at my baby, my Juliet. Can you feel me, baby?” He pressed on your stomach, held his hand where he filled you, “Can you feel me here?”

You nodded, mind obliterated, “Yes. God, yes.”

“Tell me you- tell me you love it.” He wanted more. Johnny wanted to just say it, “Please.”

“I love it.”

He thought about it, he begged the words to find their way to him. Johnny was so close; to cumming, to speaking. Eight letters took their time unscrambling, playing a game in his mind he couldn’t focus on. You held onto him as tightly as you could, panting and scrambling for that something you could almost place. Johnny fingers slipped to the front of you, pinching at your clit, toying with it, making your eyes roll back, “I’m close.”

“Me too.”

“Let me fill you up, baby.”

You nodded, you begged, you’d placed the something in the oblivion, in your whited-out vision. You found him and you felt it, “Please.”

Johnny came, white hot vision and white hot liquid dripping in between the two of you, spilling from you as your pussy clenched around him. His lips formed the words he wanted, but he was left silent hoping you’d open your eyes enough to read his lips. Johnny could only focus on one feeling at a time; the grip you had on him, the way your fingers traced shapes onto the skin of his back.

Traced words.

Traced three words he’d been gasping for.

Johnny pulled back from you, held your face in his hands - not for the first time, not for the last - and he told you, sweat dripping down his face, “Me too. I do, too.”

📻

On February 14th the world felt too still, too quiet, too lifeless.

You stood on your doorstep, on an inch of settled snow and closed your eyes. Johnny was on his way, he’d told you as much. Johnny was coming to pull you out of your mind, out of your comfort, out of the silence you lingered in. You waited, wrapped in his scarf and hoping courage would find you. Your fingers were wrapped around an envelope, a bright red envelope with his name written across the front. You had time, if you could move your feet down one step, then another you could convince them to carry you down the street. You could drop the envelope on his doorstep and swallow what felt like pride.

The wind was softer than in January, blowing only enough to rustle the strands of hair around your face. You silently begged for the blistering winds of January to sweep you off your feet and tumble you down the street in a gust of air.

You missed him. Johnny had done what he could to piece you together, to fill the space left behind. Mark, too. Even Haechan had been gentler with you, changed the subject the first time you’d asked and hadn’t touched it since. It was these moments, the silent and still moments, when that feeling held on; you missed him.

Jaehyun was another year older, Jaehyun was just down the street. Jaehyun was holding onto pieces of your carved away heart that you didn’t know how to get back without him. Your fingers tightened around the envelope, guilt seeping in at a memory from five days ago.

The words you’d traced into Johnny’s back, the words neither of you had said, but that you had both acknowledged.

You meant them, even if they weren’t ready to be vocalized. You meant them and kissed where they rested while Johnny slept, while you showered with him, while he made you coffee. You meant them and it was another terrifying change.

If you meant those words, how could your heart still hold so much space for him. How could you still feel pulled to the end of the street, to the moments in your bubble, to him tracing things into your skin; constellations, promises, words that he meant, too.

You felt your face cooling, a breeze chasing after a tear that rolled down your cheek. You weren’t sure your heart could break more; the way it filled when you were with Johnny made it feel impossible.

Johnny was coming, Johnny was on his way.

Your feet became restless, still and stationary for too long. They moved down one step with relative ease, hesitated at the next, resisted another until you were on the stone path heading towards your gate. They stopped there, another spot to linger, having done so much work to get this far.

You took in a breath; cool and shallow.

February 14th was unbearable.

You could see his house, see your breath in front of you to remind you that you were alive; you were breathing, you could move, you missed him. Your hand reached for the gate, the latch on it and pulled it open.

You missed him and out of the confines of your home, your yard, your space, that was enough to pull you down the street. Each step echoed in a world too still, too lifeless, too quiet. But, you were there, on the sidewalk in front of Jaehyun’s house with your hands shaking around a red envelope.

Jaehyun across the front.

Jaehyun in your handwriting.

You put it on the ground in front of his door, stepping back into view of the intercom’s camera. He could see you, he could see the way your tears streaked the blush brushed on your cheeks. Jaehyun, if he was looking, could see the way you whispered, “Happy Birthday, Jae.” before you turned and forced yourself back down the street.

Johnny was coming, Johnny was on his way. Johnny was on your doorstep when you made it back. His hands were wrapped around a bouquet of white roses, “You got me flowers?”

It was the first time you’d spoken, tried to speak, at full volume all day. Johnny smiled at the attempt, “White roses.”

“I see that.” You smiled back, heart filling, the space left behind overflowing in Johnny’s presence, “Do you know what it means?”

“Innocence and new love.”

You teased him, “It took longer than two weeks.”

Johnny came closer, “I didn’t account for holiday time.”

“Hm. That slows everything down.”

“Happy Valentine’s day, my Juliet.”

You stood on your toes to kiss him, to melt into him and take the roses from his hands. Innocence and new love. You’d meant every letter, every syllable, every word, “Happy Valentine’s day, my Romeo.”

Johnny could’ve melted; himself, the snow, the polar ice caps. He grinned and grinned and kissed you and grinned. Then, Johnny tugged at your hand and pulled you out of comfort, “Come on, let’s go.”

It was hours later, when the world was dark much too early, when Johnny was asleep in your arms with his head on your chest. It was hours later when Johnny had given you all of him and you’d done the same, opting for words written instead of spoken, words traced. It was hours later when you were close to sleeping that your phone lit up on your nightstand.

1:45am Thank you

His name flashed, it made your vision blur with tears. You sent back, 1:46am You’re welcome. Happy birthday, again.

Then, desperate to put pieces of you back together, you told him 1:46am I miss you

[Seen at 1:47am]

📻

“I want to tell her.”

Yuta leaned back into the worn leather chair, let it settle under his weight when he asked, “What’s stopping you?”

“Nothing really.”

Taeyong was across the room, paint splattered on his skin, his clothes, the floor around him while the three bounced ideas back and forth. He turned, paintbrush held between his teeth, “Something is.”

Yuta was brave enough, bold enough and furious enough to ask, “Did you talk to Jaehyun?”

Johnny eyed him, “Not since January. I think Mark is the only one that has.”

He knew that was only partially true. Mark was the only one who had seen Jaehyun since January, relaying information between the four of you and exhausting himself in the process. Johnny’s stomach churned at the thought. But, with the way Yuta watched him, Johnny knew it was better to proceed with caution; to keep the red envelope you’d left, the message left on read between you and Jaehyun and Johnny.

“What did he say?” Yuta pressed, “When you talked to him, did he say why they weren’t talking?”

Johnny nodded, he sighed, he confided, “He wanted a break for us, from us, until we figured us out.”

Again, Yuta led the conversation, leaving Taeyong to pick up the echoes across the room, “What did she say about it?”

“She asked him for space.” Johnny hadn’t thought too hard about the inconsistencies until Yuta titled his head the way he was, until Taeyong stopped painting all together and joined them, perched on a stool. They both waited for Johnny to catch up, “Just say whatever you’re thinking.”

“Which one is lying?”

“Probably him.” Johnny’s trust in you was unshakable, his skin tingled where you’d last put your promise - just in the palm of his hand, “But why?”

“He…” Taeyong hesitated, “He cares about her.”

“We all do.”

Yuta didn’t hesitate at all, he didn’t stutter or waver in the slightest when he sat up, elbows on his knees and told Johnny, “He’s in love with her.”

Johnny laughed. He didn’t know if it was voluntary, he didn’t know if he meant to. It had to be a joke, so he laughed without thinking too much about it. But, Yuta didn’t laugh - Taeyong didn’t either. The studio was silent, clouds covered the sun and Johnny froze where he was. He watched the two across from him, how they glanced at each other, “You’re joking.”

Yuta shook his head, Taeyong looked at his feet. Johnny stood, turned away from the two of them and tried to swallow the sick feeling that made his mouth water, made his heart stop and his palms sweat. Taeyong spoke next, “What are you thinking?”

“No one thought to tell me?”

“It wasn’t our place.” Yuta said it like it was simple. Like it was easy. As simply and as easily as he’d told Johnny he’s in love with her.

His fists clenched at his sides, rage in his veins to replace the overwhelming nausea. Johnny wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t blind, he would’ve seen it. He would’ve known. Johnny wouldn’t have, couldn’t have missed something like that if it was so obvious. He shook his head again, shook away the feeling and the thought, “Why the fuck is it your place to say it now, then?”

“We didn’t know how far this would go.”

“Fuck off.”

Taeyong tried to ease him, “Would you rather not know?”

“Yes. Obviously yes, I’d rather not know.” He was frantic, he was bordering on denial and deciding whether or not he wanted to dive head first into it. Johnny looked between the two of them, “You’re fucking with me.”

Yuta shook his head, “Think about it Johnny.”

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t. Johnny gathered his things, wordlessly, mind spinning, and he left.

📻

February passed by in a rush of celebrated birthdays, dinners you were hesitant to attend. Your message was left opened, read, seen for one week, then two. When March came all too quickly, with a sun that was desperate to thaw out the ground, the trees, the flowers, you’d found new ways to fill the gaps still left in your heart.

Johnny and the way he looked at you. Johnny and the way he kissed you. Johnny and the way he held you. Johnny and the way he needed you. He wrapped his arms around you and asked, “When did you know?”

“Your birthday. Maybe a little before.”

“Really?” You still had yet to say it, either one of you. But it was felt, it was acknowledged, it was so cherished between the two of you and completely understood. Johnny mulled over your answer, “I think I knew at Christmas.”

“Do you want to say it?”

He nodded, “I do. But, I don’t want to rush it. I think it’s good knowing it’s there, I think it feels good knowing you feel it too.”

“Yeah.”

“Right now, that’s enough.” The midday sun filtered in through, it pushed past uncertain clouds - ones that hung between winter and spring, bringing rain and snow in alternating drops, “Do you want to say it?”

“Every day.” You’d written it, tucked it away in your shared journal. There were three times you’d thought to give it to him, three times you almost let Johnny read it. It had taken courage to press it into his skin, to grow comfortable with the way that felt. The next time you’d offer him a new version, you wanted to be brave enough, bold enough to use your voice, “Every single day.”

He grinned, Johnny basked in the way you looked at him. He reveled in the way you kissed him. Johnny cherished the way you held him. He was drunk on the way you needed him. So, he rolled you into your back and promised you, “Me too.”

📻

Jaehyun stood on your doorstep, white knuckles wrapped around an envelope. He borrowed bravery from you, from the memory of you on his birthday. It had taken him one week to settle on a reply, two weeks to scribble it down and three days to drive down the street and stand outside your door.

He knew you were out. He knew he had time. Jaehyun lingered and waited and hoped you’d sense him there, that you’d come rushing back home just to see him standing there. The paper crinkled in his hands, folded and creased where he held on too tightly.

He’d always held on too tightly; he still was.

He propped the envelope on your door, borrowed bravery dropped at his feet, and Jaehyun left. Leaving his unsent message wrapped in an envelope, simple and lacking, for you to find.

I miss you too.

previous. masterlist. next.

#nct fanfic #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh angst #jaehyun angst #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #nct x reader #nct x you

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perciverthoughts · 2 months ago

Text

Oliver has always liked Penelope Clearwater.

He knows why some people don’t. There’s no denying she can be bossy at times, and a little sharp, and is smart in a way that stings if you’re as dumb as Oliver is. They’re a lot of the same reasons people dislike her best friend, one Percival Ignatious Weasley whom Oliver definitely does not have a crush on, no matter what Marcus Flint says when he’s trying to make him lose focus on quidditch.

But Oliver likes her. Penny is cool, he’s always thought so. Most people roll their eyes at her, then forget about her and don’t notice, but Oliver worked with her in potions last year and she always muttered the most wicked funny insults about Snape under her breath. He’s also pretty sure she’s clocked the fact that he’s kind of obsessed with her best friend and hasn’t told Percy yet, which, again, super cool of her.

Even still, they’re not exactly friends. Friendly, sure, but definitely not close enough that she’ll appreciate him finding her crying in the quidditch stands.

In his defence, he hadn’t expected anyone else to be out this late.

“Shit,” Penny jumps a little when she sees him, sniffling and hurriedly wiping at her eyes, “Oliver, what are you doing out so late? This is technically against the rules you know-”

“You’re not on duty, Clearwater,” he points out, because her muggle clothes- a pair of wide legged denim trousers and a leather jacket- definitely aren’t her prefect uniform and she’s also, y’know, sitting alone and crying instead of giving horny third years detention, “you’re breakin’ the same rules I am.”

Her lips twitch.

“Touche.”

He sits down beside her. She doesn’t protest.

The stars are out in full force tonight. Oliver tries to find constellations he’s never been able to see while Penny pulls out a small box full of thin white sticks and a metal contraption muggle studies has reliably taught him is a lighter.

As he watches she flicks something on the lighter and a small flame springs up. She holds the end of one of the little white sticks in the flame until it catches.

“What’s that?”

“A cigarette,” She studies the smouldering end of the stick for a second before putting the other end in her mouth and taking a deep breath.

“It’s a muggle thing,” she explains, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “like a pipe but better. And no, you can’t try one.”

“I didn’t want to,” Oliver lies, glad his dark complexion hides the flush of his cheeks. The smoke doesn’t smell amazing, but there’s something alluring about it all the same, and besides the cigarette is something new, and new means exciting. Oliver has never once not wanted something he’s found to be exciting.

Penelope huffs out a laugh.

“They’re addictive, Wood.” She calls his bluff but isn’t mean about it, “You try one or two and you’ll never be able to stop. And besides, they’re awful for you. They’d definitely affect your quidditch game.”

“Oh.”

That’s enough to stop the want that had sprung up in his chest. If those cigarettes could affect quidditch…no. He could never risk it.

She takes another drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke away from him so that it gets carried away by the wind, twisting and breaking and then disappearing altogether.

“Are you alright?” He asks once they’ve sat in silence for a bit. The tear tracks on her face glitter in the moonlight, a reminder that no matter how quickly she pulled herself when he found her, she was clearly overwrought with misery.

She takes a minute before she responds, rubbing the glowing end of the now much shorter cigarette against the bench until it's well and truly snuffed out, then vanishing the small pile of ash and paper with a sigh.

“I was stupid.” She admits, and the absolute self loathing in her voice makes him flinch.

“You’re not-”

“I am,” she cuts him off, “A stupid, naive, foolish girl who was too prideful to listen when Percy told me the whole thing was a bad idea. I mean look at me-” she laughs, a bitter, hateful sound, torn from her chest in a horrible way Oliver is all too familiar with, “the poor, idiot lesbian in love with a straight girl.”

“And all I wanna do,” she continues, and the tears are back, threatening to overflow but she holds them back valiantly, “is go to my best friend and cry to him about it and have my stupid little heartbreak in peace, and he’d never say I told you so, he isn’t cruel, but he’d think it, I know he would, I’d see it on his face and that would be just as bad, and I can’t do it. I can’t be stupid in front of him too.”

Her shoulders shake and she lets out a heaving sob, the tears she’d been holding back finally overflowing.

Oliver isn't going to pretend he knows what to do. Comforting crying girls isn’t any fifteen year old boy’s strong suit, and especially isn’t his. But he’s always liked Penelope Clearwater, and he’d have to be heartless to leave her alone right now.

Besides, he knows a thing or two about self loathing.

He sits beside her while she cries herself out, not touching her but close enough that she need not doubt his presence, waves away her apologies when the tears stop, and pulls her to her feet.

“You’re not stupid, Clearwater,” he tells her as they walk side by side back to the castle.

“You’re not,” he insists when she opens her mouth to argue, “I mean it. We all fall in love with things we can’t have sometimes. I reckon it’s what makes us human.”

For a second his mind flashes, unbidden, to a head of red curls and pale freckled skin.

“Maybe,” Penny admits, and she’s still glum but no longer nearly as upset, apparently well enough to offer him a sardonic grin, “either way it sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” she stops before they reach the doors of the great hall, not stupid enough to risk talking indoors this late after hours, “really. For letting me have my breakdown. And for being so nice.”

This time his cheeks heat for an entirely different reason.

“I wasn’t- I mean- anyone would.”

”Hm,” she tilts her head, considering him, “no. Not anyone. You’re a real nice person Oliver Wood. Not everyone is.”

They say their goodnights and she wanders off towards Ravenclaw tower while he goes up to Gryffindor.

You’re a real nice person Oliver Wood.

Penelope’s words echo in his head.

He wished he could believe her.

#penelope clearwater #oliver wood #academic disaster

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unamused-boss · 1 year ago

Text

California Dreaming pt3

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Last part! Warning: Kinda short, but I still hope you love it!

Summary: Max and Billy could only agree on one thing in common.... and that was you. You were their neighbor when the lived in California and Billy had the biggest crush on you. Plus it helped that you babysat, more like hangout with, Max. You were his California dream. And sometimes dreams come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't stand the time you had away from Billy. Your best friend and boyfriend were gone all in one on the same day. You've been writing to Billy which is a plus. Turns out he joined the basketball team. He's been to every party thrown in town, but he says they're all a bust. Met a guy named Munson that gets him weed, but Billy quotes "It's nothing like the shit in Cali...". You can't help but laugh at his sarcastic tones through the letters.

You know he misses it here. He tells you in every letter the love that he holds for you, that nothing will change. He admitted to going on some dates with girl to get you off his mind. He felt guilty, he wanted your forgiveness even though you told him to try an move on to at least have fun. Billy said ,once again, in his letter that he wants no one else but you. Your eyes were something he missed most of all. He said that you had a light in them that he felt only he saw. You always giggled when it came to the gushy stuff in his letters. Billy was a flirt with girls but he was a romantic with you.

Since graduating high school early you've had a lot of time on your hands. You were still gonna walk at graduation, you just weren't going to do anything else. Cause by god you are getting that dumb piece of paper in front of everyone. It was a couple of days before the week up spring break but for you it was a regular working Wednesday. You currently work at some clothing store in the mall and oh so excitedly deal with mother's trying to get some sort of deal out of you.

The time was 5:00pm you are now pulling into your driveway of your house for the night. Happy that your got off early you notice your parents aren't home yet. You make your way down to the mailbox to check for anything. Which you find a bunch of letters piled onto one another. You begin to sift through it.

"Bill, Bill, Coupon, post card from Aunt Shelly, Bill...y." You stop at, what you thought was another bill but was actually, a letter from Billy. You rush up to your front door to be able to read the letter. Throwing everything onto the kitchen table an make your way to your room. You bounce on your bed at tear open the letter...

Hello Y/N, I hope you are happy with what you're doing. I just read your letter. God I wish I could graduate early to get this shit hole. Anyways, Max is doing good. She still with those little balls of snot for friends. Hopefully you wrote her, so she can stop asking me to check the mail for your letters. I miss you very much. Spring break is about to start, since the public pool opened I got a job there. Hopefully I can get enough money to be able to come an see you and to stay with you. You probably already know me, I'm not really good at this writing shit. But if it's for you, I'll do it. I love you, -Billy

You smiled down at the words on the paper.

"I love you too." You said down to the paper. That feeling came back again. The feeling of wanting to see him. You can't help it, you miss him so much. You go over to your landline in the kitchen to lunch in a number you have memorized by heart now.

"Santa Monica airport, what can I help you with today?" The droned out employee said.

"Hey, I wanna know if you have any direct flights to Hawkins Indiana?"

"Hold on, let me check..." You hear a faint typing for a few seconds.

"Anything?" You question.

"None to Hawkins but we have one to Indianapolis flying out this Friday at 5:00am." They said.

"Perfect!" You shouted. "How much?"

"That will be a hundred an thirty dollars..."

"I've got that!" You race around to your purse to fish out your debit card to pay for the ticket. You give them the info to send the ticket via email for you to print out. It would be thirty more dollar but you didn't care.

"Alright, thank you choosing Santa Monica airlines tod-." You didn't even let them finish. You hung up the phone right away to go pack an call off work for the next week or so. You couldn't stop giggling the whole time. Seeing Billy and Max is going to be the best thing to happen to you in the past few months. Then you hear your front door open and shut. Then you realized something...

"Hey mom, I gotta tell you something!" You shouted running out of your room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were honestly shitting your pants the whole way to Hawkins from Santa Monica. You currently stand outside of Hawkins High School waiting for Billy. You slept during your flight over at 5 am but once you were on the ground you couldn't hold still. Your stuff is at the motel just outside of town for the next week.

You passionately waited for Billy to walk out of the school. You could see his car from a mile away. Plus with is reputation it wasn't hard to find out about him. You turned your wrist to look at your watch, 3:15 it read. the bell rang and school was out for spring break. Students passed by you, giving you weird looks.

"Who is that?" "Does Billy know them?" "Probably a desperate Ex." Were some of the things that were thrown around you. As if you couldn't hear the. 'Geez do these people know how to shut up...'

"Billy. Who's that?" An oddly pitchy voice said breaking you out of your thoughts.

Billy ripped his head around to you. You being the last person he would see by his car. The girl he, once had his arm around, was with was now forgotten. Billy thought he was gonna vomit at the sight of you.

"Shit.." You mutter.

"Holy fuck..." He said.

"Billy who is this?" The girl said once again getting annoyed. Billy turned back to her.

"Why are you still here?" He questioned. The girl now looked perplexed. She thought Billy was gonna take her out but now he wants nothing to do with her. Before she could say anything Billy spoke, "Go the hell away. Ya stupid cow..." He muttered the last part.

Billy walked up to you, star struck. He now had you trapped between him and the car with his hands on your hips. Holding you gently. You were smiling up at him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I wanted to see you." you said. "Is that so bad?" You teased him. When you both could call one another you would constantly tease him over the phone.

"No!" He answered quickly. "It's actually great, cause I was loosing my damn mind being away from you." You giggled at him. He his lips down to your temple, kissing you gently. To the students around you it was shocking to see Billy Hargrove be gentle with anybody. But to you this was your Billy.

"Y/N!!" A familiar voice shouted out to you. You turned to her direction to see Max running full speed to you. You part from Billy momentarily to hug Max.

"Hey MadMax!" You exclaimed. Even though Billy thought Max was a pain in the ass most of the time; he loved seeing you two together. He was happy that she got to see you.

"How long are you here for?" She questioned.

"I'm here for all of spring break." You smiled. They both looked at you dumb founded. You were gonna be with them for a week.

"Yes!" Billy said excitedly, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as he squeezed you.

"How about we go on a date tonight?" You asked him.

"Hell yeah!" He shouted. Crashing his lips onto yours. Desperation and love pouring into the moment. He missed your lips. How soft they were and smooth. He missed you so much.

"ew..." It was faint but you both knew it was from Max.

"Get in the car shit bird." Billy said.

"Hey be nice." You sternly said, mighty sapping his arm. He huffed at you, looking at you with soft eyes. The eye you fell in love with.

"Let's take Max home and we can go on our , much needed, date."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Billy smiled.And that's how it went for the next week. You spent your time with Billy and Max, well more so Billy. Billy held you so close not wanting to let you go when you both cuddled. You met Max's friends and some more people around Hawkins with your small time there. You had some sleepovers with Max, trying to make up for lost time. Neil wouldn't do anything while you where here in town, so that meant a safe environment for Max and Billy even though it was for a week. You found the town cute, but you prefer Santa Monica.

Most of all, you and Billy got time alone. To be with each other in each others arms. Going on cute dates, walks, drives, everything. You became the envy of the town. The one that swooped Billy Hargrove off hid feet the spring break of 85'. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He would stay in this shithole town if it meant being with you.

When it came time for you to go home, it was full of tears and heart felt kisses. You didn't want to leave them again but you had to.

"Once I graduate I'll be back, I promise." You said.

When it came time for you to go home, it was full of tears and heart felt kisses. You didn't want to leave them again but you had to.

"Once I graduate I'll be back, I promise." You said.

That promise was made two months ago. In those two months you also visited Billy three more times over the summer. In your last visit you brought him back home with you. To California. You got him far away from his pain.

You both have an apartment near the beach, like you both wanted. You stared college; while Billy started work at a car restoration shop. Billy could surf everyday while you laid in the sun. You both loved each other even more with every day that passed.

A California dream come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know its a cheesy ending but I hope you like it.

@capitanostella

@maackiimoo

@mystargirl-interlude

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargove imagine #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #stranger things #billy hargrove x fem reader #eddie munson #fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #troupe #childhood best friends to lovers #grumpy x sunshine #netflix stranger things #vecna stranger things

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kiestrokes · 1 year ago

Note

i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Seonghwa

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

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freakbabyy · 4 months ago

Text

Deception Chapter One

taglist: @tulipbite @rcarbo1

A/N: it's finally here teehee (as if i dont have ten chapters written out rn)

Word Count: 4091

Mood board | Prologue

“Alright ladies, form a single file line! When you get to the front of the line, you will present your letter of conscription. After you do that, you’ll be told what dorm room you’re staying in for the next six months,” The soldier up front’s grin widened even more at the next sentiment. “That is, if you survive them.”

The front of the line had about five different soldiers already in full uniform, each with a new recruit going over their paperwork. The line went surprisingly fast, until I was next. Taking a deep breath in and out, I tried my best to adjust the cloth around my breasts. I had tightened too much this morning, apparently.

“Next.” I stepped forward, handing Finn’s - my letter to the mustachioed guard, and he ran his eyes over for a few seconds before placing it in the pile on the table, and instead handing me a key. “All set, Ambrose. Dorm five, bed three.”

I nodded, hiking my backpack up higher on my shoulders before stalking towards the dorms, which were actually just shacks. Each had clearly seen better days, most were ragged from the weather. Most likely from the brutal winters we would get.

Walking up the steps to the fifth cabin, I opened the door that was already cracked and closed it behind me. A few others had already been in the cabin, and it looks as if there were three sets of bunk beds. Each had a trunk beside and in front of it. I opted to take the top bunk since there was already someone's stuff on the bottom one, and put my bag down on top of the trunk beside it.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing a bunk,” I twisted my head to look at the guy on the other side of the bed, apparently already putting stuff into his trunk. He stuck his hand out, and I really took in his features. “Alaric Godfrey.”

Short black hair, cut down to nearly his scalp, with striking green eyes the color of grass in the summertime. He had round glasses on as well. He reminded me of a hawk with the way he was staring at me.

“Finnigan Ambrose,” I shook his hand, nodding once firmly. “And it looks like you’d be correct.”

“You’re alright with the top bunk, right? If not, we can switch.”

“Yeah, top bunk’s fine. Thanks.” I turned around, starting to unpack my bag as well, folding my clothes into the trunk. “Where’re you from?”

“Riodum. It’s by Spring.” I had heard of it, it was a big trade village. “What about you?”

“Mifflin. It’s by Winter.”

“I know it, the main road goes through it, right?” I nodded, “Clearly we’re both a long way from home.”

Before I could come up with an answer, the front door had opened and a soldier walked in. Or rather, maybe another recruit based on the plain clothes. “General wants everyone in the training grounds by nine.”

“Are we training already? We just got here,” Another guy in our cabin asked once the guy had left, probably off to tell the next shack.

“Doubt it. Probably just a ground tour, and to go over our schedule for the week.” Alaric spoke up, and the others agreed, before we all started making our ways outside. Better early than being late.

The training grounds were right beside the cabins, just a few meters away. Most everyone was already here it seemed, probably having the same sentiment I had earlier about being early. A whistle sounded up front, which halted everyones conversations. A few men were up front, all wore signature red hair and spotless fine clothes. Vanserra’s.

“You all already probably know us, or at least have heard of us. If not, then you’re already at a disadvantage. This is my brother Leo, he’ll be teaching you strategy every other day in the afternoons starting tomorrow.” He gestured to the shorter brother, slightly wavy hair pulled back with a single hair tie. “My other brother, Eris, is the general of the armies, you’ll rarely train with him. However if you make it past week ten, you’ll see a lot more of him.”

“I’m Magnus, I’m in charge of training you lot; so don’t make me look bad. You train with me everyday learning the basics starting at six in the morning sharp. I find out you are late, you run laps until your miserable legs give out. On days you do not train with Leo after lunch, you will be with me once more, learning weaponry. You all will be split into two, cabins one through fifteen you’re group one, cabins sixteen through thirty you’re group two. Schedules are posted weekly at the mess hall”

“The training grounds you’ve already found, congratulations.” Leo took up the rest of the speech they’ve no doubt practiced, “Mess hall is where you get your meals, breakfast starts at five, lunch at noon, and dinner at eight. That is when you’re dismissed from the night.”

He had pointed across from the cabins, to where a larger building was, with some tables and chairs outside, for if anyone chose to eat outside. Then he pointed to the furthest cabin, and on the other side of it was another, slightly larger cabin.

“That is the infirmary, I trust you’ll all find it at one point or another. If you don't, that means you aren’t training hard enough.” Turning back to us, he pointed at a large wooden sign on the side of the mess hall. “Speaking of training hard enough, everyday we put up new ranks during dinner. If you fall below the red line, you’re done. You get sent home, you can’t be called upon again to serve the high lord, and you will not be reimbursed for your time here. Ten people will be cut every week on the last day of the week.”

Murmurs took over the crowd, until another whistle made everyone stop their chattering. This time the general stepped up and spoke, when up until now he seemed bored; as if he had better things to do.

“If you have a problem with it, you can leave now. You aren’t at a ball, you’re training to be warriors. Highly skilled, trained warriors. Only 42 people will graduate, that is a promise. As you all know, those 42 will be split into groups, and each group gets an assignment for life.” He looked around, daring anyone to speak up, or even move. “Top squad gets to be assigned to the high lord. You work as sentries for his residence. Next squad gets to be captains for the warriors on the battlefield. Then it’s patrol duty, one to the north, south, west, and east. The most sought after position is traveling duty. You travel throughout Prythian on business for the king.”

You could hear a pin drop after that speech. Sure, it was common knowledge that not everyone who got conscripted finished training to be a part of the guard, but was it needed to be so harsh? You’d think the more guards the better, so why would they cut down on soldiers? It didn’t make sense. Men were stupid.

“Dismissed,” Magnus called out, as the crowd dispersed. “Don’t forget about training tomorrow.”

This was going to be a long next few months.

—

“Rise and shine, newbies!” A voice broke the peaceful morning air, along with a harsh knock on the door. Magnus. “Breakfast in ten!”

Groaning, I rolled out of bed, stretching my back from the hard mattress, and grabbing a few things from my trunk before rushing to the bathroom, which was the only other room in the cabin. I pulled off my night clothes before putting on the cloth wrap, making sure it was a bit looser than before, and putting on the rest of my clothes for today.

Exiting the bathroom, it was immediately taken by the guy who sleeps in the bunk beside me, I think his name was Bard? Either way, everyone else was already getting dressed, and I had to avert my gaze as I tried to cool my face down. Clearly I would have seen a few cocks, bunking with five males, but everytime they got dressed, did they have to practically wave them around?

I wasn’t a virgin by any means, being three hundred years old, but that didn’t mean my face didn’t still heat up from the sight. Tossing my sleep clothes into my trunk along with my toothbrush, I brushed through my hair with my comb before tying it up with a band Alaric had offered me.

“I’m not used to shorter hair.” I gestured to the tied up hair, which was already falling from its restraints. “I cut it before training.”

“Same here. I think most of us did, except for Bard over there.” Alaric nodded towards the male who was now braiding his hair back, quite well in fact. I could never do it that well, wasn’t sure my youngest sister could either, and she loved braids.

“What about me?” The ginger with a partially done french braid turned, raising a pointed brow. “Hopefully nothing bad.”

“Not at all,” I waved off, offering a band from the bag Alaric had, to which he said thanks. “We were just saying how it seems everyone cut their hair before coming here; aside from you.”

“Ah, this?” Bard laughed, as if it was the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “I did cut my hair as well, it was a lot longer. Turns out training has rules, no hair below the waist. Something about the professionalism of guards and recruits.”

“How long was your hair, then?” Alaric questioned, all three of us making our way to the mess hall, shivering a bit at the cold frost from the crisp spring morning.

“Oh, about down to my knees if it was down. My mother never had a daughter, she always loved braiding my hair, so I let her. Therefore, I never cut it. Not in my four hundred years.” Bard shrugged, grabbing a plate and looking for a seat. “Mind if I stick with you two?”

“I don’t mind.” I replied, grabbing a plate as well, questioning what exactly was in the bowl in front of me.

“I’ll never deny a potential friend. I’m Alaric Godfrey, that’s Finnigan Ambrose.” Alaric shook his hand, as I did the same.

“Bard Tomas,” We all sat down at a table, as another voice spoke from beside us,

“Did I hear your last name is Ambrose?” The male a few seats down questioned, scooting to sit across from Alaric and I. “Which one of you’s Ambrose?”

Bard sipped his tea, raising his eyebrows in question at the new presence; A brown haired male, with curls so tight they seemed to bounce everytime he moved. His eyes however, were the color of robin's eggs.

“I’m Finnigan Ambrose, yes. Do I know you?” I prayed to the cauldron this wasn’t one of Finn’s friends, or else I’ve already outed myself day one.

“No, not at all. Though I knew your father, well, knew of him. My father was in his squad actually, they used to be friends from what he spoke of. Is it true your father used to knock people out with a single touch?” He seemed to be rambling, so fast in fact I barely got what he was saying.

“Yeah, he um - he studied pressure points in the Day court when he was a child. He grew up there, afterall. But certain spots on the body, if pressure is applied there, you’re knocked out like a light.” I explained, shoveling a bit of the gruel into my mouth, before speaking around it. “I didn’t quite catch your name, or your dads name; maybe I’ve heard of him?”

“Jasper Jesper, and my fathers name is Niander Jesper.” He took a bite of his own gruel, nearly gagging at the taste, “Sorry, does your gruel also taste like the underside of a rock?”

“Unfortunately,” Bard spoke up, introducing himself. “I’m sorry, your parents named you Jasper Jesper?”

“Unfortunately,” Jasper copied his earlier reply, “You should hear my full name, it’s much worse.”

“I doubt that.” Alaric spoke up, raising a brow.

“Jasper Jaxson-Julian Jesper.” Alaric’s tea spewed from his nose, as he began coughing.

“There’s no fucking way,” Bard cackled, “Why would your parents curse you with such a tongue-twister name?”

“Honestly? I ask them that everyday.” Jasper laughed, “They say they liked the rhyme scheme. All of my siblings have the same curse. My sister’s name is Josephine Juliet-Jane Jesper.”

“As silly as it is, my parents also liked the rhyming thing,” I offered, finding it a bit endearing. “I have a pair of siblings, twins, Dorian and Florian. Then I have a twin sister named Winifred, they call us Winn and Finn.”

“My parents call me JJ, but my sister's nickname is just Jo.” Jasper added, just as chairs started scraping against the floor, signaling time to go to training.

“You guys wanna stick together? We can all practice together, that way when we have to spar we won’t get random people.” Alaric questioned, all of us agreeing.

“I was just about to suggest the same thing,” Bard smirked, “No one likes being the loner at school.”

The training grounds were empty, aside from the recruits and Magnus. The sun was barely breaking the horizon, frost still coated the ground. I had wished I wore long sleeves, as did everyone else most likely.

“Good morning, recruits. Wish I could say it’s a pleasure seeing you all this early, but I haven’t had my morning cup of tea yet.” Magnus walked back and forth, taking in everyone one by one. “Today we’re testing. Everyone will do different tests, and I’ll be recording your times. We’ll check in the first of each month, to see strength improvements. First up, is running.”

At a snap of his fingers, a flag appeared in the dewy grass, flowing slightly in the breeze.

“You’ll all begin at this flag, I’ll record everyone's times as they pass. My second in command, Aslan, has some of his guards stationed around the path, so we’ll know if you use magic in any way. Which will result in immediate termination, by the way.” Magnus stood to the side of the flag, a servant holding a tray of tea beside him. “Follow the flags, they’ll lead you through the forest path you’ll be jogging down.”

He graciously took the cup of tea offered by the servant, and took a long sip. He sighed in content, before looking at all of us once more.

“What are you waiting for?” He took another sip of his tea before pointing to the air, and firing a ball of, well, fire. “Go.”

My legs went into action before my mind did, and I was yanked back by Alaric, who also grabbed Bard, who grabbed JJ.

“Jog, don’t sprint. You’ll run out of energy faster sprinting. Jogging you’ll conserve it for the entire run. Plus, the more we build stamina, the more endurance we build, the faster we can jog later on.” Alaric nodded towards those who were sprinting, already through the forest bend. “If you sprint, you’re gonna end up in the back by the end of it.”

“That makes sense,” JJ panted, out of breath already; although I couldn’t judge - I was too. “Take it slower, outlast the others. I like it.”

“Good thing we have a strategist in our little group.” Bard gasped, clutching his side. “I shouldn’t have skipped physical activity in school. Or outside of school.”

“Same,” I agreed, feeling the same pang in my ribcage. “Who does this for fun?”

“Psychopaths.” Alaric scanned the area, sweating through his shirt already.

About a half hour later, they were still steady in their jog. All of them were covered in sweat, gasping for the cold morning air. They’ve passed nearly half of the people who started the run off sprinting; proving Alaric’s point.

“Halfway, recruits! Hustle, people, Hustle!” An important looking guy with a clipboard shouted encouragement, he must have been the second in command, Aslan. His hair was blonde, speckled with grey hair. “Come on Ambrose, Jesper, I expected more from you! Let's go!”

“Cauldron, that was unnerving.” JJ puffed out, as I nodded, agreeing. Why did he look familiar?

“I might just drop out,” Bard groaned, stopping off to the side, as we did the same, to wait for him. “You guys don’t have to wait for me.”

“We’re friends, we established this earlier, we stick together.” Alaric panted, his hands on his knees. “Just - take a deep breath or something.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Muscles, I didn’t think of that!” Bard glared at Alaric, as he held his hands up. “Okay - Okay I’m good. If I don’t go now I won’t get back up.”

Once more we took off jogging, this time a tad slower. My feet ached, my legs burned, and I swear I could feel the cloth binding my breasts chafing. Not to mention the angle of the sun now burned my eyes.

“Why did you guys get conscripted,” JJ asked, nearly wheezing.

“What do you mean?” Pushing my hair out of my face again, I looked at JJ for a second, before turning my head back forward, not wanting to trip on a branch on the ground. “It’s randomly selected, to be conscripted.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t regular conscription.” Alaric answered, “This is the conscription for the royal guard, we’d protect the high lord and his family, the ‘traveling’ position even more.”

“Why’d you put air quotes around traveling?” Bard spoke up, brows furrowed.

“Because the traveling position isn’t a traveling guard, it’s strategy - spycraft. It’s why we all get background checks and intense training.” He motioned to all of us, “No one gets to train here without being picked for a reason.”

“Ambrose and I were chosen from our parents, I’d bet. I applied a few times as well.” JJ answered, wiping his face with his tunic.

“I didn’t apply. I didn’t even want to be conscripted.” I nearly growled out, “I was supposed to be taking care of my sick mother, when those guys showed up. Told my sisters if I didn’t show up I’d have my family executed.”

“That’s…” Bard started, “Dark. Unusual as well, usually they’d take no for an answer and move onto the next person who made the list. That’s how I’m here; someone changed their mind. I wasn’t accepted until a few days ago.”

“I always wanted to be a spy, my mother was a spy before she died.” Alaric admitted, “I’m only here for that.”

“Then I guess we’re going to be spies,” Bard joked, “Friends stick together, right?”

“I’m in,” I went along, smiling wide, wetting my lips before wrinkling my nose at the taste of the sweat beaded there. “I always enjoyed sneaking around, playing hide and seek with my siblings.”

“Then I suppose I’m in, too.” JJ shrugged, “I don’t see myself as a captain in the army anyway.”

The last flag was just in sight, it was where we started. We must have gone in a large circle around the entire property. About twenty people were sitting in the grass at the finish already, and Magnus shouted our times as we crossed the threshold.

“Ambrose, 96 minutes!”

“Shit,” I cursed as my legs gave out in the grass off to the side. “I’m so glad that’s over.”

Thankfully they had about fifteen minutes to recuperate before the last person finished and Magnus spoke again.

“Alright ladies, now that the warm ups are done,” A series of groans overtook the courtyard. “Onto strength tests. Get into a block, fifteen lines, and when they get full go behind the person in front of you. You’ll be in charge of writing down your scores. Get ready.”

Moving to follow instructions, I was in the middle, my new found friends beside me. The other soldiers present passed out a parchment paper, each soldier then was poised at the end of a line; presumably to stop any cheating.

“We’ll be doing sit ups. I will say when you all sit up and then lay back down. Do not go any slower or faster. If you cannot sit up anymore, you record the amount you completed, Any questions?” Bored eyes scanned the rows of recruits, daring anyone to even question him. “Positions. 3…2… Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.”

I had gotten to sit up number 43 before I felt a stomach cramp, and swore softly - writing down the number on the paper before sitting up and looking around. Nearly everyone was still in. I had to push myself in the upcoming tests if I wanted to stay and earn money for my family.

“89 sit ups - Jeremiah Bayard. Next up planks. Everyone must stay in position, no bending the knees, and you must stay level. Each guard on the row will shout the exact second he sees one of you fall or give up, you’ll write down the exact time he says,” Sipping on more of his tea, or perhaps coffee now, he pulled out a stopwatch, as did the guards around us. “3…2… Begin.”

The first few seconds weren”t so bad. After second thirty my limbs began to burn. Was I really this out of shape? It didn’t matter, I had to fight it, I had to keep going. Not for me - but for them. I had to do my part to help my mother; I had no other choice. If I failed at this, how could I even begin to try and help her? What would it say of my character - of who I am?

I had to block it out. I had to block all of my thoughts, even those of my family - I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t. Just think of nothing, of the grass below my fingers. The sun beating down on my back. The slight breeze that blew my tunic hanging off of me.

“Finnigan Ambrose, three minutes twenty two seconds,” I cursed, falling flat on the grass for the second time this morning. However, when I looked around I saw that everyone else was done. “Next up are push ups. You know the drill. Positions - 3…2…Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.”

Falling flat for the third time, and this time spitting out grass - I got to twelve push ups. Twelve. I was not out first this time, though. Bard was. He caught my eye and shrugged then held up two fingers. He had done two push ups.

“Alright, this time, each line is going to follow the leader to one of the fifteen soldiers in front of me, they will use a stopwatch to count how long you can do the dead-hand. You will hang onto these bars, dangling until your arms give out.”

Thankfully I had loved climbing trees as a child, so hopefully I wouldn’t be the worst at these. Though my arm strength with push ups wasn’t good - hopefully it was a fluke. Nope, not a fluke. I didn’t last a minute, I immediately fell off of the pole, and looked in shock. I was going to be sent home.

“Dinner time. That means you sorry lot are done for the day. We’ll tally up your scores and post them by the time dinner’s over. Good luck.”

“Shit-” JJ was the first to speak, finding the group of us already sitting at the same table as this morning. “Did we get lunch? I can’t remember.”

“Nope, we got done with the run after lunchtime, those who finished after lunch time didn’t get lunch.” Alaric explained, nearly inhaling his stew.

“Not fair, how were we to perform to the best of our ability if we didn’t get lunch?” Bard complained, rubbing his arms.

“I don’t know, luck?” Everyone started getting up now, rushing towards the door. “Where’re they going?”

“Scores are up.” A passerby filled us in, and we stood too, putting our trays away first. It took awhile until we were able to read the board, and I went down the list starting at the top. Then the middle. Then the bottom.

“Shit.” I swore, my name was fifth last Rank 197. The only consolation was Bard was dead last. “I’m going to get sent home. The first week. This is embarrassing.”

“You said it, brother.” Bard groaned.

#acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris x reader

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robobrainmurdermysterytheatre · 19 days ago

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I see the same question/argument about why there's so much garbage in Fallout 4 pop up bianually, but I think a better question is WHERE is all of the garbage coming FROM?!

The loose garbage that's sitting in the streets has to be from *after* the war. Source: when you live in a place that gets windy and rainy ever all that shit blows around and blows away and gets buried in the dirt. We've had bricks in our yard get buried in 1 season by the soil.

Maybe you could argue the city where the ground is primarily concrete that stuff didn't get buried. But then you have to consider a couple of other things. 1 - Concrete poured on the ground is susceptible to breaking up in places where there's seasons, like Boston. Cold, snowy winters, wet springs and falls, and dry, hot summers do a number on concrete that's not maintained. I'm imagining the most vacant lot where I live - which has similar seasonal weather - being like 5-10 years vancant and unmaintained where I can see the concrete breaking up and desinigrating and nature reclaiming it then multiplying that by 20-50.

Maybe they used special, hardier retrofuturistic concrete in the Fallout universe, and we can dismiss the idea of the ground being somewhat dirt where there used to be road, which brings us to 2 - Boston sits on a river and I'm guessing multiple other waterways that feed it. The garbage is going to go there. The same seasons that mess up concrete would eventually carry the trash into the waterways when it's windy or rainy or the snow melts.

So the 200 year old garbage should be gone. Where is it coming from?

The average contemporary American generates a fuckton of garbage because we buy everything from the store and everything from the store needs to come in some type of packaging or container for loss prevention and/or hygenic purposes that we then throw away. A little over 100 years ago, that wasn't the case. It's only with modern manufacturing technology and supply chains that we're able to package every god damn thing we consume in a way that is financially feasible for the companies manufacturing those things.

210 years after the bombs drop in Fallout, society is not back to that level of manufacturing and consumption. There appears to be a limited amount of manufacturing occurring. They're probably not manufacturing products with packaging that is going to create really persistent garbage, namely plastic. Plastic is a byproduct primarily of natural gas refinement, which is not something we see happening in Fallout - correct me if I'm wrong, though. I haven't played the first two games.

The lifestyle most people seem to be living in Fallout wouldn't generate a lot of garbage. Like people did 100-200 years ago, people likely use everyday items until they truly wear out then repurpose them until they're next to nothing. Clothing is a good example: wear it til it wears out, then cut it into rags to use until those get threadbare or gross. They can go in the fire that warms your house or that you cook on when that happens. Heck, I'm not 100-200 years old, but I grew up poor, and my dad did that! Waste from creation, for example, if you build a table out of wood, likely gets repurposed as well. Scraps big enough to use for smaller projects get used, smaller ones go on the fire. Containers for food storage likley get reused and repurposed if they get gross not thrown away in the streets.

So yeah, there is no reason for garbage to be there. Bad job, Bethesda 🙄 /s

The real, secret, answer is that the garbage piles are there to hide the janky edges of the sidewalks and buildings and other objects that dont sit level or sink into the ground or don't have textures when you look at them from the side or whatever. You can see this in the settlements when you have the scrap everything mod and remove a lot of those leaf and garbage piles on the edge of buildings, roads, etc. Or you can walk up to a suspect garbage pile in downtown, open the console, click the garbage pile and tyle "disable" and find all sorts of fun jankiness. Just make sure to type "enable" to put it back unless jank is your thing, lol.

#fallout 4 #this should have been one of those youtube videos with me telling you all this while the same random 20 sec of gameplay loops lol

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artemistorm · 1 year ago

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Mini story -- Time tries to get the rest of the Chain up and ready to travel for the day but the rest of the Chain says no.

Time strode in to the stable of sleeping heroes, surprised to see that none of them were up despite the fact that the sun was already starting to rise.

"Time to get up," He announced. "We got a long day of travel ahead of us." Several heroes groaned and rolled over in response. Time made his bed, collected his bathing items and went down to the lakeside to wash up.

The plan was to start heading toward Death Mountain to deal with some of the monster camps springing up in the Gorons' mines. They hoped to make it to Foothill stable at least but ideally as far up towards Goron city as daylight would allow.

Time washed up, changed clothes, he even bothered to shave that morning. He could normally go week between shaving his face, but the stubble was starting to itch and irritate him. Once he was done, he neatly folded his nightclothes and returned to the stable.

Wild sat by the bright young fire that another traveler had lit. He was fully dressed, but still wrapped in a stable blanket and he stared blankly into the flames.

"Wild, what do you have planned for breakfast?" Time asked.

Wild looked up, startled out of whatever thoughts he'd been lost in. He then narrowed his eyes and hissed at Time, then took out his slate and teleported away right in front of him.

"Ah, hehe. Always startles me when he does that," the other traveler tending to the fire laughed. Time wasn't sure what to make of it. Where had he gone?

Warriors exited the stable, dressed, but lacking armor.

"Is everyone up?" Time asked.

"It's... a slow morning." Warriors answered. "Expect to leave a little later today."

"Not too late, I hope," Time answered frowning. "We have a lot of ground to cover." He entered the stable to find most of the Links still varying states of waking up.

Sky was sitting up with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but his eyes were closed and he looked to be asleep. Legend was sitting on the floor next to the bed. Wind was an unmoved mound of blankets. Hyrule lay awake and blinking dreamily up into the rafters. Twilight sat cross-legged on his bed rummaging through his bag while Four was curled up next to him in a tight little ball.

"What's going on? Why aren't you up yet?" Time asked. "We need to get going." He moved to Wind's bedside and shook what was probably Wind's shoulder.

"Come on, time to wake up," he said. Wind rolled to look at him with rosy cheeks and tired red eyes.

"No. Shut up. Fuck you," he growled and retreated under the covers completely. Time was taken aback.

There was a thump and Time looked up to see Sky still wrapped in his blanket but laying on the floor and inchworming toward his pile of stuff. Legend was up on his feet but he limped every single step he took and his face pinched in pain. Hyrule stretched and yawned loudly but made no move to get up. Unexpectedly, Wild strode back into the stable, grabbed Hyrule's bare foot.

"You're coming with me!" He said and teleported them both away, Hyrule squawking in surprise and dressed in nothing more than his pajamas.

Time sighed and Warriors pulled him back toward the fire outside. "The night stablemaster said that Wind was up in the night with nightmares," Warriors said. "Made him some hot chocolate and stayed up with him for a while. He'll likely need another hour or two of sleep at least."

"I see," Time said and sighed again. "Wind's behavior I can understand, but we took yesterday as a rest day for a reason--with the expectation that today everyone would be up and ready to go as soon as light allowed."

"Time. These boys may be heroes, but they're also boys. They need more than one day of rest once in a blue moon. They aren't perfect little soldiers with infinite energy and morale. You can only push them so far before they will push back."

"I know that, but we have a job to do. The Gorons--"

"Can wait," Warriors interrupted. "They aren't, dying, the city isn't under attack, the just can't dig rocks in their usual spots. It's not that urgent."

Time sighed yet another time. So much for their grand travel plans.

"Besides, I can tell that you need a break too," Warriors said with a sly grin. "You've been impatient recently, taking everything too seriously, skipping meals, nagging, sighing at every little thing that doesn't go according to plan... you need a break just as much as the rest of us."

Time refrained from sighing but he sure felt like it. He hadn't noticed he'd been doing those things more, but he certainly recognized the pattern. They were indeed some of his tells of being overworked.

"Is that why you aren't wearing your armor this morning?" Time deflected. "You already decided that today needs to be another rest day?"

"It's possible," Warriors shrugged.

Time was a proud man and he hated to admit it, but Warriors was right. They needed another rest day. If nothing else, they could do it for Wind's sake.

"So what do you say, Old Man?" Warriors prodded him.

"I think you and I are cooking breakfast this morning," Time answered. "For whenever these sleepyheads choose to get up."

"Eyyy that's was I was hoping to hear!" Warriors smiled. "I'll go tell the troops they can go back to bed. You break out the bacon and start mixing up some flapjack batter."

"Only if you tell the stablemaster we're camping out another day," Time answered.

The End.

#inspired by I'm mad I had to get up today #lu time #lu warriors #time & warriors #lu everyone #minific #stormy writes #linked universe #pure fluff

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stopaskinf · 10 months ago

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Nostalgia

Things BTS Boys Remind me of:

Summary: ^ top explains it’s all.

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 0.8K

CW: Mentions of drinking and of being parents (reader is gender neutral), like one sentence mentioning injury in Jungkook’s

AN: I might make this a series cause I have a lot of thoughts. Enjoy 🫡

Jin:

Going on vacation:

Exploring somewhere unfamiliar, feeling the heat blaze down on you as you explore the local areas. Neither of you speaks the language well, but the friendliness shown through native people’s actions are enough to make you feel at ease. Going back to your hotel and drinking pina coladas in your bathing suits. Looking on at the parents and their kids play in the cerulean water. The image starts up conversations of your future together. Eventually, the sun vanishes and you both return to your hotel rooms to prepare for the resort party later.

Yoongi:

Fall:

Sitting outside the steps of your new home while he takes up the leaves that piled up the previous night. It’s too warm for a sweater, but the wind is too strong for you not to insist he wears a scarf. His hair is a jumbled mess, so he wears the old beanie you gave him. Besides, those kids down the block don’t need any more reasons to make fun of him. Said kids catch a glimpse of the mountainous piles he’s made and take the jump. He exasperatedly scolds them while they whine and you snicker.

Hobi:

Summer nights:

It’s too hot to sleep, so you both decided to get some ice cream and enjoy the night. The absence of the sun makes the heat bearable. You two pull up a couple of chairs from storage to sit outside. He decides the sound of screaming kids and parents talking to each other while crickets chirp a homely beat isn’t enough stimulation, so he grabs his phones and starts up his playlist. He slurps his Spider-Man ice cream as he sits next to you in his baggy shorts and slides while the fireflies buzz around you two. You suggest that you should catch a couple and keep them in a jar. Something to do with luck you say. He gives his signature cackles and agrees, but only after he’s finished his ice cream.

Namjoon:

Laying on a hammock while reading:

Spring makes for the perfect scenery. He wakes up that morning feeling refreshed, but lowkey. He grabs himself the book you bought for him recently. He heard you run on about how much you thought he would love it. Something about it exploring the philosophy of how we live our lives. How ego and capitalist greed overshadow our virtues. He steps outside the house, barefoot.You would have nagged him about it had you been awake. However, the decently sized hammock was strung up less than a couple feet away. Besides, the feeling of grass, dandelions, and the warm concrete felt nice. It comforted and grounded him. As he does with most things, he boorish throws himself onto the hammock and starts the first page. The sun blazes down on him, however its effect is lessened by the shade of the trees nearby. He’s sure you’re soon to follow him when you awake. Still, he’s more than happy to wait for you. As he always does.

Jimin:

Afternoon naps:

Nothing eases the soul better than rest. Especially after the tumultuous time you’ve both had. The soft thud the bed makes as you both hit it. The cozy feeling that settles as you nuzzle into it. Even in outside clothes, the homeliness and security still wash over. The guilt free feeling of closing your eyes slowly and falling. Of knowing that even if the time together is short, it’s wonderful.

Chasing after the ice cream truck:

The chaos of clambering limbs as you both rush inside the house. You have to find the money before he leaves. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! The signature music blares outside while children line up to the truck. The hurries rushes of “Go, go, go, go” that sours you both to fly down the steps. You probably dropped some change in your haste, but that’s a different issue. The contrast of sweat that begins to pool on yours and his submitted skin to the boxy, crescent eye smiles you both share as you finally get to the truck. Victory tastes so sweet.

Jungkook:

Playing as kids:

Roughhousing is a natural part of childhood. Ideally, your parents would have preferred if you never fought, ruined your clothes, or threw mud. However, the freeness that you two felt whenever you wrestled after the rain settled down in the afternoon? The feeling of picking up bugs and pebbles to ambush the other while they were off guard? Nothing compares to that.Expect, maybe the smaller, sweeter moments. Crying after scrapping your knee, so to comfort you, he gives you the popsicle he got from his mom. Your obsession with special rocks that he always remembers when he finds one on his way to your house. The picture worthy shot your moms got of you two laying on the floor in your pjs cuddling after failing to stay awake past your bedtimes. Nothing compares to the simple bliss of that.

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someforeignband · 5 months ago

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WIP Wednesday 🪽

why do one when we can have both,,,, :) !! tw: im soft launching some destiel under the cut lmaooo this work is meant to be a sort of dean winchester character study. (non-magic/non-supernatural AU, canon divergence, human Castiel, rural midwest setting)

this is from my small wip I Can’t Let Go (When Something’s Broken) — you can listen to the song it’s based on here.

“He can’t help it— that he lost his mind,” she’d said, like it was all supposed to make sense, like it was supposed to just explain everything.

It didn’t feel like it explained anything.

Everything had been a lie. The last eighteen years had been some big, huge, fucking lie.

And, Dean supposes that’s just how it is. The gag is that there isn’t some kind of man behind the curtain. There’s no invisible man. There’s no thing that goes bump in the night. It was all a lie. A delusion.

It’s all that sad sort of twisted thing that makes the heap of dirty clothes piled up on your desk chair in the corner of your bedroom look like a burglar.

But, the sun rose.

And now, Dean had to deal with the reality that it was just a pile of laundry on a desk chair.

The burglar doesn’t exist.

It’s just a fucking pile of clothes on a chair.

Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his Nonna’s face when she’d told him, told him about Dad and how he and Sam would have to pack up their clothes and move in.

And yeah, now he’s laying in a bed with a real mattress and it’s so comfortable, but he still has his fucking shoes on. It’s three meals a day, and it’s starting Senior year in Schuyler, Nebraska with a roof over his head. It’s not having to load a gun and shove it deep in the bottom of your backpack. It’s not turning over your shoulder every three seconds. It’s getting to worry about making friends for the first time, knowing you’re staying put. It’s a hand-knitted blanket, and getting to wear sneakers, not worrying about wearing the tread off of the bottom.

But—

It was all a pile of laundry.

Eighteen years for a pile of dirty laundry on a desk chair.

The box spring in the attic squeaks a lot. It’s weird sleeping without Sam in the room. Most nights thus far, he’s sort of just lied awake and stared at the ceiling. Sometimes, he still forgets to take his shoes off when he gets into bed.

Force of habit.

Quietly, even though he doesn’t have to be anymore, Dean toes off his shoes. They’re new and they sort of hurt his ankles, they’re not quite broken in yet.

“We couldn’t wait to get you both back,” Pap had said when he smoothed Sam’s hair back, kissing his forehead like he was 4 and not 14. He’d kissed Dean’s forehead, too. But, it was forced, Dean knew it.

His head is so shiny and bald, Dean chuckles quietly to himself, trying to shake off the memory. He doesn’t have to be quiet. Doesn’t have to be careful, or vigilant, or alert.

The shoes he kicked off hit the floor with a loud thud. Dean can’t help but cringe, the ghost of his breath crawling up and dying in his throat. Quickly, he sucks in air again. He had to break that.

His socked feet wiggle around under the flannel sheets. It got cold at night here, even in September. Turning on his side, he reluctantly closes his eyes, trying to will sleep to come.

Sam seemed to be adjusting fine, which Dean was grateful for. He wanted his little brother to be happy.

“You look so much like your mother, Dean,” Nonna had made a passing comment that night at dinner. It knocked around in Dean’s mind as he lay there, trying to sleep.

And it was funny, the scariest part of everything wasn’t that it was all a lie. Well—that was a little frightening. But, it was more than that.

If there wasn’t some boogeyman waiting to jump out after the pair of them, then Dean supposed there wasn’t somebody out there just waiting to save them, either.

In the corner of his room, his duffel was open, clothes strewn about, piled tall and disorganized on a folding chair which probably once belonged to a desk.

#more steddie to come always!! but !! it's fall and i love spn #destiel #destiel wip #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #destiel fanfic #dean winchester character study #castiel #ej writes !!#wip wednesday #not stranger things

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nightcityace · 9 months ago

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[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: SUNNY ]

[NICKNAME:]

Sunny: I guess technically Sunny was a nickname before it became official, but I've also been called Sunshine, Sunbeam, Ray of Sunshine… you can probably see the pattern. Interviewer: And what is your real name? Sunny: Sunny is my real name. Just because it might not be the first name I had doesn't mean it's not my real name.

[GENDER:]

None for me, thanks.

[STAR SIGN:]

Misty says I’m an Aquarius. I guess I never really put much thought into any of that, but she really enjoys it so that makes it fun for me too.

[HEIGHT:]

5’ 9”, but some of my boots make me a little taller. No platforms or anything though, I wouldn't be able to walk to save my life.

[ORIENTATION:]

Only interested in men, but I guess I don't really try to define myself often. Just queer in general is probably the best term I suppose.

[NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:]

That's another one I never really think too much about. A lot of people tend to think my family are Nomads, but we’ve been here since before Night City was Night City. My… (counts on fingers) great-great-great grandparents actually bought our property back when California was still one state, so we’re about as local as you get. Before that I think someone came from New York and before that I don’t really know, all over Europe I think.

[FAVE FRUIT:]

Strawberries, not like synthetic ones or those over priced cloned ones, real strawberries. We managed to get a little section of them growing at home and nothing can compare.

[FAVE SEASON:]

Probably spring. I love getting to watch everything sprout and bloom, even out in the desert.

[FAVE FLOWER:]

Sunny: People usually expect me to say something cliche like sunflowers, but I genuinely love dandelions. Especially when they grow up out of cracks in pavement or sidewalks. It's proof there's still nature in the city, even when they try to hide it under all the concrete. They’re stubborn little flowers and they're perfect. Interviewer: Aren't dandelions weeds? Sunny: Only because someone wanted to sell people on the idea of a perfectly sterilized, useless, solid patch of grass which completely destroyed the biodiversity of most yards. They’re yellow, they're cute, I like them. Interviewer: Got it…

[FAVE SCENT:]

This is a hard one to describe, but do you know how sometimes you can kind of smell outside? Not like… exhaust and garbage obviously… but there's a certain smell that gets in your hair and clothes when you've been out in the wind and sun and you can just tell that's what it is.

[COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:]

Yes please, all of it.

[AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:]

Probably about 6 or 7 normally. I tend to wake up early after having to for most of my life, but I love going back to bed. I'll usually wake up about sunrise or earlier and go have a cup of coffee and check my plants to see if they need water and if Vik isn't up yet I'll scooch back under the covers and go right back to sleep for a few more hours. Plus naps, naps are great.

[DOG OR CAT PERSON:]

Chickens. Okay okay, I know obviously I can't have them in the city, but the farm is well outside the avian exclusion zone. Seriously, they're adorable. (Pulls out phone to show no less than 300 different pictures of chicks and chickens)

[DREAM TRIP:]

Honestly I don't know. I like being close to my family and being in NC, so I don't think I'd want to go anywhere long. I have some Nomad friends though so a trip with them might be fun, maybe somewhere with actual mountains since I really like climbing around the canyons and stuff we have out in the Badlands.

[FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:]

Hmmm… I'm gonna go with Bugs Bunny. Both extremely cute and extremely chaotic, I respect that.

[NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:]

I usually start with one or two, but I tend to run warm so by the time I wake up it's not uncommon for them all to be kicked down to the end of the bed or piled up on Vik’s side.

[RANDOM FACT:]

Sunny: About me or just like… a fact I like? Hm, how about: it's surprisingly easy to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car. You wouldn't think so, but getting it out is actually much harder. Interviewer: Okay... That's slightly troubling... how about a fact about you? Sunny: I know how to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car.

This was so fun to do!! Thank you @dreamskug for tagging me!

I have a few other tag things I still need to do with Sunny, I swear I havent actually forgotten, I just have terrible time management... >.>

EDIT: oh dang I forgot to tag people D: I think most of my cp friends have been tagged already so I'll toss it to @wraithsoutlaws bc I want someone to have the audacity to interview Dagger :P

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cp77 #cyberpunk oc: sunny #oc interview

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tmwcs · 2 years ago

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My Roommates Ex - Chapter 3

Chapter 3! Woohoo!

Pairings: You and Heeseung

Warnings: Uh yeah, this one has lots of smut. Unprotected sex, sexual dominance, maybe a hint/vibe of slight breeding kink and pain kinks. Not terribly so with this chapter, but future chapters...yeah we're going to have a talk about that.

Summary:

Months had passed since then, and Vicky transferred to a different school. She cut off her ties with Gabe and said goodbye to the girls as she embraced a newfound outlook in life.

You were shocked the day when she told you as you entered the dorm room to see her waiting on your bed, she greeted you with a smile and patted down on a pile of neatly folded clothes and accessories that laid on your bedspread next to her.

“I wanted to give these to you. I don’t need them anymore.” She looked up to you and smiled widely.

Though it was a nice gesture, you didn’t necessarily have the same taste as Vicky when it came to clothes and the number of accessories she used. The sense of fashion was very similar, but the fondness of wearing such revealing attire, especially daily, wasn’t your thing. A crop top here and there might have been okay, but you already knew that her gift was going to be unused.

Still, you accepted them graciously.

That’s when she informed you of her decision to transfer. She explained that after thinking about it, it was something she deeply yearned for. A fresh start.

Both you and the girls went with Vicky to the airport, giving her a proper send off. Everyone cried as they took turns hugging and sharing words. You were the last one to say goodbye to, but it felt like you were the one that Vicky wanted to hug the most, upon feeling the tight and prolonged squeeze of her embrace. Her words brought the tears to glaze over your eyes.

“As painful as it was, seeing Ethan finding happiness with someone else, was something that I needed to see. It was something that needed to happen, in order for me to be the person I truly want to be.” She smiles as she admits.

Those were her last words as you before she left for her terminal, waving widely towards you and the girls as she smiled.

Keeping in touch, many texts and phone calls were exchanged daily. You were always happy to hear that Vicky was doing well, she was becoming exceedingly happy. Changing her program while also making new friends, you felt immense joy for her. Especially at the mention of a certain young man she had began seeing, a student of the same college that had fancied her ever since she transferred.

Though Vicky turned a new leaf, some things will never change. You chuckled the moment she revealed that the man was the son of the CEO that managed one of the largest corporations in the country. But you smiled whole heartedly as you saw that she still had her heart in the right place, identified as she mainly spoke of the young man’s personality more than his inheritance.

At times you gazed at the side of the room she had previously occupied, it was now stark empty. It triggered you to leak out a few tears sometimes. Knowing she was doing much better in her new setting; you couldn’t help but sometimes wish she was still with you.

Often succumbing to leaking a few tears whenever you saw her side of the room. She had become like a sister that you never had, and you would always relay that message to her whenever you got the chance to, which she would always respond with;

“We are sisters you goofball! We’re family.”

Another Saturday morning rolls by and you’re excited that Spring Break was finally here. You looked at your calendar and it amazed you just how much time had passed since you moved into the dorm, nearly a whole year from today. You recall moments from when you moved in during the spring. Moments popped in your head, like you meeting Vicky, Heeseung, and some of his closest friends, such as Jake.

It felt like it all went through in a blink of an eye. Vicky’s transfer happened only five months ago, yet it felt longer than that. You found it so strange how time had an opposing effect when it came to the experiences you gained through it.

You reach over to your desk and started going through the unread mail you picked up yesterday, seeing an envelope from Vicky got you excited as you tore it open quickly revealing an adorable postcard. It was a photo of her and the young man she had been dating, Sunghoon was his name, and he seem like such a nice man. You recall the first time you got to speak to him, when Vicky would invite him to sit next to her so he could participate in your facetime calls with her.

He was very soft and respectful; he always had this twinkle in his eye reflecting pure joy whenever he would stare at Vicky. You could tell he was a perfect match for her, and looked forward to the day when you can meet him in person and see Vicky again.

Taking a moment to review the postcard, the photo was of Vicky and Sunghoon during their visit to Africa on a safari trip. You chuckled at seeing Sunghoon and Vicky in a tight embrace with the fantastic view of wildlife in the behind them. You turn it over to read Vicky’s note on the back.

“Sis! I’m getting married! Right after college of course, but since we’re starting our second year already, the next two are going to go by even faster, so, we can’t waste time. I want to see you and the girls soon! Let’s all come up with a date for you guys to come visit me and Sunghoon next month. I’ll message in the group chat when I get back. Can’t wait to see everyone!

PS: Before your bring Ethan, take him clothes shopping first.”

“Married? Wow.” You remarked aloud to yourself, but not without a smile presently stationed on your face. It will be so nice to see her and meet Sunghoon, especially after receiving the news, and you couldn’t wait to tell the girls.

You pin the postcard on the corkboard in front of your desk, placing it in between the photos of your mom and dad, your elder siblings, the girls, and of course, you and Heeseung. You even had a photo of Emily and Jake pinned up.

Vicky’s departure to a new college wasn’t the only significant event that had transpired five months ago, it was also marked the length of time that you and Heeseung had been together.

Your bond with him grew even closer. With all the number of dates and quality time spent in your respective dorms, you both had become inseparable. Not to mention the evening routines that took place, nearly every single night. Even though you and Samuel had dated for 8 months, sharing many intimate moments, it didn’t compare to the countless sessions that you and Heeseung had.

Sometimes multiple times in one day, which made you quickly found out that your body needed a period of adjustment when you recall feeling the soreness from all the action.

You brush your teeth and think about your nights with Heeseungm they all played out the same for the most part.

You think about how he can’t manage to keep his hands off you and always sets the mood by lightly brushing his fingers on a random part of your body, whether it was your arms, legs, hands, or chest.

The brush of his touch was always accompanied by a gushing breath he would release close to your ear, hearing just a sliver of his voice within it, and expressing his desire and triggering yours.

The way his hands roamed, and how his hair nested against your cheek as he dug his face into the nook of your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, and licking the sensitive skin until it became marked by his act. His nose would graze your temple as he would whisper in your ear, as he gave soft rose-petal kisses in between. The tickling of it was paired with a sexually appeasing sensation to your body, whenever you felt the tapping of his lips or the heat of his whispers rushing into your ear.

Playing out the performance in your head made you recall a moment where you had learned something very interesting about Heeseung’s sexual nature. It had the same effect of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, a doubling entity that emerged from within him depending on the sexual mood he was in. They reflected two sides to his performance in sex.

They both still classfieid as “fucking”, yet there was a difference in the type and the degree of his nature.

One side was his gentler one, the Dr. Jekyl entity. It was the persona of his sexual nature where he still maintained dominance, but he would allow you to have some unit of control. This part of him was a lot more tame and less animalistic, and it allowed you to have enough stability in your body and mind to move and think. It was his way of permitting you the freedom to do things to him, such as holding on to his wrists when you would kiss his most sensitive areas like his neck or ears. You would do your best to pin them down long enough, but he would overpower you every single time as he resisted the urge to lay still once, he felt your kisses.

Still, you would at least get a few seconds of seeing him vulnerable as you put up a fight in holding him down, and that was something you could only get away with due his nature reflecting Jekyl.

There were other examples of his permissive freedom, such as, when he would let you make the first move and allotted you to do so at your own pace. It normally would begin with him lying flat on his back, his hands behind his head as his elbows bent out to the sides, and his hat traditionally covering the significant features of his face. He would remain still letting you straddle him as you removed your shirt, which would always be the last remaining piece of clothing you had on prior to sitting on top of him, or a dress even.

He would deeply admire your how your body would flex and tone up as you lifted the cloth and raised it high, your arms crossed above your face as you turned off to the side with your hair flowing all around you. His will would break the very moment you dragged the cloth upwards, slowly revealing every measurement of skin as the regions of your body are revealed in order, belly button first, then breasts, collar bone, and shoulders last.

Your neck and face would return to frontal view as you swipe the clothing over, the collected strands of your hair grouped up through the loophole of the cloth would fall and dangle over your breasts, waist, and hips, each strand trickling down the farther you pull the material off and away from your body, generating a waterfall effect.

Lastly, and the most significant note to this side of Heeseung, was giving you total control of the main aspects that play a vital role regarding passionate sex, the tone, rhythm, and speed.

The three categories that often times, men strive to control. Heeseung wasn’t an exception having that strive, he loved being in control. However, he also loved experiencing the way you love him, emotionally and physically, and he could only witness it by letting you have some of it.

Once you removed your shirt, you’d reach down and gently stroke him, maintaining eye contact. A desire within you wanted to feel him in both your hands, before having him enter. Something about memorizing the thickness, length, and smoothness of his shaft, helped ease the process as you guide him inside and begin riding him.

The part he loved most about this was when he watches the sexual expression on your face. He always stared, and admired the way your beautiful face would display the initial sense of shock and pain upon you inserting him, doing everything by your own bidding. He loved watching you do it to yourself. The way that your mouth would gasp open and your brows furrowing in pain the moment you would tear yourself open by fitting him in, your face flinching as you felt the bite of his sting.

You moved passionately, slowly, and steadily as your hips would vibrate once his dick was fully inside you. Your walls are reintroduced to the throbbing numbness when you feel him rubbing against the flesh as you move him in and out.

The softness of his skin and the protrusion of veins creates a wild combination of smoothness and friction each time your hips dipped low, pushing him in, then roll back, pulling him out, all repeating in a cycle that becomes more vibrant as you keep it rotating. Your hips sway back and forth gently, while dipping into him hard and deep.

The weight of your body drops in mid wave, pulling you down and sealing every mesh of space that remained in between you two, as you begin to surpass the pain and sink into a pool of ultimate pleasure, wanting to feel every single part of him fill you.

You would feel him twitch inside, hinting to you that it was becoming harder for Heeseung to suppress the beast within him. Remaining in the same position as he did from the moment you straddled him, you’d watch him testing his willpower by refraining any movement, not even his hands. You keep riding him, watching as he stayed committed in laying there, and took every motion your hips were performing on him as your rotation of dipping, lifting, and rolling, keeps going.

Your body would gradually pick up speed, just a little, as your walls drooled all over him, making it easier for you to slide him in and out. The rush of ecstasy takes over your mind, body, and soul as you reach up with both hands, collecting your hair and pinning it up while you perform your moves, the loose strands surrounding your face and falling from your hands piece by piece as you begin bouncing up and down.

Once he felt you both were drawing close to orgasm, he marked his que and draws the line. Being so close to the finish line, this is the moment where Heeseung takes over.

“Fuck baby…” He bites his lip as he grunts. His low voice would go slightly higher in pitch during the times when he let you fuck his Jekyl side.

With a jerk of his hips thrusting into you, simultaneously removing his hands from his under head, he grabs around the smallest part of your waistline. He pulls you down as he continues to jerk up, and within one or two hard thrusts, he regains altitude as a swarm of adrenaline infuses him with the energy to fucks into you. You feel the strength of his thrusts pushing the both of you over the edge, beyond just pleasure.

“My fucking beautiful girl…fuck…keep riding it baby. Fucking take it.” His groans fuel you to keep moving and taking him in. Then, at the peak of his momentum, you feel him jam into you one last time, holding you in place as he lets his cock throb inside your walls, cumming inside you.

It shoots out fast and strong at first, then gradually comes to a slow stream of release as his twitching slowly decreases. You feel your walls press against him, squeezing everything out of him. The repeated action of your flesh re-clenching slurps every bit of his cum, vacuuming it deeper into you as the sharpness of the tingle and numbness overtrumps the height of Mount Everest, making you scream.

Your hips jolt each time his dick twitches, pairing in sync. His hand roams up to your back and he pulls you in to lay atop his chest, kissing his own breaths into you as your chest tightens against his, breathing into each other as you slowly regain your energy.

This was the side that you had seen most of, nearly a hundred percent of the time.

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unholyverse · 2 years ago

Text

waterparks // alternative press spring 2023

(full article text under the cut:)

TO THE MOON

With their new album INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, WATERPARKS are diving deeper than ever before. The result is an exorcism of deep trauma and the sweet afterglow of catharsis.

STORY: Alessandro DeCaro • PHOTOS: Jawn Rocha • Styling: Josh Madden

Between international flights, jet lag and no days off in between, it is a miracle that Awsten Knight isn’t face down in a pile of pillows. For the past two weeks, Knight and his band Waterparks have been head down in a run of massive shows throughout the U.K. supporting British rockers You Me At Six as well as a series of intimate appearances at record stores with some of the band’s most die-hard fans. It was a landmark run for a group who have hit the road relentlessly the past year-and-a-half, with sold-out North American and European headlining tours, a top slot at the 2022 Sad Summer Festival and even a “bucket list” opening slot for My Chemical Romance. Their latest milestone? They played to 10,000 people — their largest show in the U.K. region — at London’s historic Alexandra Palace. Exhaustion should be Knight's baseline, but instead, he's as chipper as ever when he hops on Zoom back home in Los Angeles. There's only one problem. The bandleader has been on vocal rest for days leading up to this very interview.

“Dude, my voice feels so shot,” Knight confesses from his living room couch. “We did 12 performances back to back, then combined with really short cut-up sleep on the flight, 1 just feel, ugh.” Sleep deprivation aside, Knight is almost at a loss for words (not from the vocal rest) but because the experimental pop trio he formed 12 years ago have unlocked another level of fandom where new listeners are still flocking by the droves. “It turns out there are a lot of people [in this world].” Knight quips, referring to his newfound fans. But in reality, global domination doesn’t really seem too far off.

Knight barely has time to slow down. The band are set to release their fifth studio album, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY (out April 14 via Fueled By Ramen). But the self-professed workaholic has never known any other way. “It's a really hard mentality to shake,” Knight reveals. “When we were a local band, we didn't have any family connections in the music industry, and no one cared, so you had to take on every role. Even though we are not local anymore and get to play arenas with our favorite bands, if I'm not actively doing stuff to push the music, then I don’t know if anyone else will."

In some ways, Knight fears downtime or stillness because that's when he feels like his brain will start to turn on him. He admittedly functions better when he's working on something creative, whether that’s writing a new song or simply designing streetwear for his clothing brand hii-def. “It's not necessarily the most healthy thing in the long run, but people have worse coping mechanisms,” he laughs nervously.

But Waterparks remain his main focus. The trio, which initially formed in 2011, began to truly put the pieces together the following year when Knight enlisted his now-best friends, guitarist Geoff Wigington and drummer Otto Wood, to round out the lineup. “Otto loved classic rock and bands like La Dispute and Touché Amoré, whereas Geoff was all about EDM," Knight recalls. “We all had different tastes, but at the core of it, it's guitar and drums.” Their individual musical backgrounds helped craft the genre-less sound they have now cultivated.

"THE BIGGEST REASON I didn’t want that pop-punk label is that I know exactly what we are capable of." - AWSTEN KNIGHT

It wasn't until 2016 when Waterparks finally released their debut album, Double Dare — an intentional choice. “I always felt like if no one was looking at us, why put out a large body of work? I wanted to do cool shit as opposed to oversaturating and waiting until enough people [actually] wanted to hear it.” There is a common adage that you have your entire life to write your first record and six months to write your second, to which Knight agrees, and from there, the band began making records like clockwork.

With those albums came carefully curated eras — a moment in time with a clear aesthetic, theme and overall mission statement. While always writing music from a subversive and experimental perspective, it was when the band released both FANDOM (2019) and Greatest Hits (2021) that they began to stray from the confinement of genre and inaccurate labels. Knight himself spoke out vehemently about being boxed in by the term “pop punk. “I learned [during that time that] you can’t control everybody, and you can only frame the narrative so much,” Knight explains. “Obviously, we grew up loving and still loving blink-182, Green Day, Sum 41 and Good Charlotte, so it’s in our DNA to a degree, but I just don't want that label because it’s so synonymous with the past and what cynical dickheads or mega naysayers say is just for preteens and kids. However, the biggest reason I didn’t want that label is that I know [exactly] what we are capable of and what our output is.”

Take, for example, the breakbeat madness of the FANDOM single “Turbulent” or the distorted experimentation of “Numb” from Greatest Hits. Nothing is off the table for Waterparks. The group join a cohort of other trailblazing acts like Bring Me the Horizon and Paramore, who both successfully pivoted away from the late Warped Tour circuit in favor of mainstream appeal without losing any substance. “There's a song for everybody, and I once tweeted that anyone who doesn't like Waterparks just doesn't like Waterparks yet,” Knight says confidently.

If you have yet to be on board with the band's music, you've at the very least been entertained by — or seen — Knight's fiery social media presence.

It's undeniable that Waterparks’ meteoric rise has stemmed from the bandleader’s unofficial side hustle as a social media celebrity. And at times, his online presence can feel truly monolithic in scale, something Knight has attempted to analyze over the years in many songs, including the aptly titled “You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out To Get You)" When asked if his status as an extremely online figure has influenced the band’s latest album, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, Knight isn't entirely sure but reveals that he has had to set boundaries nonetheless, as someone who's regularly met with constant praise and vicious internet trolls. “I try not to let it influence things too much [lately], and with therapy, I've learned that you can only control yourself. However, that doesn’t mean I'm not still vulnerable in the music that I write.”

He tackles the subject on INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY with closer "A NIGHT OUT ON EARTH" and parts of the song “RITUAL,” where he recalls when he felt things were “caving in" around him due to the pressures of constant attention. “There are people who listen to Waterparks who aren't on Twitter. and then there are those who view the band in this bubble where it's just them and the people who reply to the tweets,” Knight resigns.

But beyond the topic of social media, Knight gets admittedly “introspective” on the record. When asked to discuss the overall lyrical themes and concepts behind INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, he takes a deep breath and delivers a warning: Things might get a little turbulent.

“There is a love story throughout the record that is expressive to and for other people, but the album itself has to do with overcoming, unlearning and growing past religious guilt,” Knight explains. “It's something that I've struggled with for a long time.” On “FUNERAL GREY," he delivers the punchy line “baptized in my spit,” which is a playful twist on a weighted subject. The theme of religious guilt doesn’t just apply to the overall lyrics of the record but also extends to the album's striking cover art, which at first glance appears to be an image of a blue frog over a red backdrop; in actuality, it possesses a much more poignant meaning.

“Frogs have always been one of my favorite animals,” Knight reflects. “However, when I learned that frogs were seen as dirty and unclean in a biblical context, it was interesting to me that something that I saw as so good, natural and beautiful could also be seen as a bad thing through a biblical lens.” In other words, the concept of shame plagued the charismatic bandleader for as long as he can remember, and INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY was the moment for Knight to finally face his trauma head-on and “come to terms with himself” once and for all. That explains why a majority of the new songs possess “hypersexualized” energy — a conscious rebellion against a conservative past. “Growing up in church, you're taught that everything is so wrong and bad. I always felt like shit, so [this album] is the breakaway from that specifically.”

By overcoming his religious guilt, Knight was able to tap into an evolved sense of self-worth that he’s since applied to his very own love life, which he details on the album's stripped-down ballad “CLOSER.” “My concept of love has changed throughout the years, and that song is about [looking at the past] and realizing that when I was younger, it was maybe more of an obsession. Now I'm taking it apart and learning more about love and the way I present the current version of myself to other people.” Inversely, there is the alt-radio-ready anthem “BRAINWASHED,” where Knight admits that he still wrestles with the idea of true love, constantly making sure that he’s not just wrapped up in the “honeymoon phase.” Knight jokes that this track and “FUCK ABOUT IT” which features a guest vocal spot from blackbear, are “polar opposites,” as the latter couldn't be further from the “hyperfixation” he details in “BRAINWASHED.," once again proving that he feels the most comfortable when inserting juxtaposition wherever he can.

"I've learned that you can ONLY CONTROL YOURSELF. However, that doesn’t mean I'm not still vulnerable in the music that I write." - AWSTEN KNIGHT

Beyond the emotional clarity that Knight gained during the creation of INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, it's the album's sonic risks and exploration that he is the most fired up about. Though Knight wanted the band to return to their more guitar-driven and organic roots for certain parts of the LP, much of the record ventures into eclectic territory, with hyperpop, trap, synthwave and even subtle elements of hard rock and nu metal. “RITUAL, ‘A NIGHT OUT ON EARTH, ‘REAL SUPER DARK’ and ‘ST*RFUCKER' are the craziest instrumentals we have done ever,” Knight exclaims. “I love the idea of taking something like a guitar or my voice and making it sound entirely like something else” “A NIGHT OUT ON EARTH,” however, is what Knight describes as “the biggest production flex,” and it most definitely shows. “There's fucking elephant sounds in there and weird Batman villain-sounding horns — it's evil and heavy, and not to mention, the outro is just game over,” he says.

Beyond production, Knight pushes his voice and stretches the idea of what constitutes a strong hook on INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY. With “END OF THE WATER (FEEL),” Knight is at his most “bombastic,” in a “cartoon-like” state, weaving falsetto melodies that are meant to shock. “I always make a mental note when I hear a song that makes me go…" He pauses, imitating an explosion. “For me, that's when I hear some high-ass vocals that I'm not expecting.” Even on the first day of demoing “END OF THE WATER (FEEL)” in his home studio, Knight was already so confident in the song that he called longtime producer and collaborator Zakk Cervini and “essentially” forced him to come over to his house right then to help finish it. “I also want the record to show that I had a mustache [during this time], too,” Knight laughs.

With collaboration on the brain, Knight is the first to admit that for many years, he was precious about his art and was hesitant to work with others. However, during the COVID-19 pandemic and quarantine, Knight changed his mind, which was evident on Waterparks’ previous album, Greatest Hits. This time around, Knight, who's an outspoken fan of the U.K. boy band One Direction, finally got a chance to live out one of his dreams by working with esteemed songwriter Julian Bunetta, who co-wrote beloved One Direction classics like “Olivia,” “Infinity” and “Best Song Ever,” among others. “I flew to [Julian's] place in Nashville, and we ended up making five songs together, two of them being ‘FUNERAL GREY" and ‘BRAINWASHED,” Knight recalls. And while he still plans to keep the majority of his music close to his chest long term, he won't rule anything out. Knight would undoubtedly jump at the chance to work with everyone from Post Malone and Damon Albarn to Donald Glover and Toby Keith.

"I'd rather make the coolest f*cking thing, RATHER THAN HOLD BACK and make something that wasn't that good." -AWSTEN KNIGHT

Now, with the band's new LP incoming, there raises the question: Does Knight feel a sense of relief after both exorcising his deepest traumas and inviting listeners on his journey to self- discovery? "I still feel pressure with it," Knight concedes. “It would be a lot easier if only strangers heard this, but everyone in my whole fucking life is going to hear this album, so that's what makes it strange." But he's never let any awkwardness or controversy hinder the artistic output. "I wasn't not in trouble when I put out a song like [2018's] 'TANTRUM' where I listed a bunch of dudes I wanted to kill, calling out by name," Knight acknowledges. Though his lyrical choices have sometimes resulted in strong reactions, even within his close circle of friends, Knight can't help but accept that he is meant to be unapologetic. "At the end of the day, I'd rather make the coolest fucking thing, rather than hold back and make something that wasn't that good."

Pressures of lyrical vulnerability and transparency aside, INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY is Knight's attempt to "normalize” the catharsis he finds within songwriting, which ties into the album title itself. "Intellectual property is the mental space you give to something in your head. The 'property' may be the thing that you are struggling with. By materializing it and giving it its own world, it's actually a great way to express it and then, eventually, expel it,” he explains. "I want this album to go to the fucking moon." ALT

#whoever designed the page layout for this. i don't like you #waterparks #awsten knight #otto wood #geoff wigington #i.zip

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