#i need the open shir photos

[fabioquartararhoe]

@.gingerandlimon: spotted in Paris… @.fabioquartararo20 wearing @.kamadparis & @.americanvintage_officiel 💎

[tkwrites]

Shoot the Moon - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from instagram

Title: Shoot the Moon

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Original female character 

Warnings: comfort, fluffy beginnings, smut (18+ only), oral m & f receiving 

Summary: Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah. 

Word count: 5,500

Comments: this is my first fanfiction ever posted, though I've been writing them for a long, long time. I hope you enjoy! 

Shoot the Moon

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

 I made tacos at your place, so don’t pick anything up on the way home.

This simple text sent gratitude rocketing through Quinn. He just needed to get home. They were on the bus to the arena, then he would drive the 20 minutes to his apartment, and to Sarah who was waiting for him with his favorite meal. The bus seat was digging into the bruise on his right hip from where he’d hit hard two days ago. It felt better when he was moving, but sitting still was torture. It had been on the plane and it was here again. 

He was so glad to be home. It was near the end of the season, and he was tired, his body,  time and emotions drawn out well beyond their limits. He couldn’t wait to get a good night's sleep next to Sarah. He had never missed someone like this. He'd never noticed the absence of her weight in the bed next to him, or missed the smell of her perfume in such a tangible way. He was beginning to feel like he couldn't and didn't want to live without her. 

The next road trip they went on, he needed to bring something with her perfume. Maybe that would help him sleep better. 

When he finally opened the door to his apartment, Sarah walked around the couch to greet him. His bags hit the floor and he collapsed against her, nuzzling his nose into her collar bone and taking a deep breath. 

“God, I missed you so much,” he said, pulling her flush to him. She was in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings. It was the very thing he’d been hoping she would be wearing.

Her hand went to the back of his head to stroke her fingers through the dark waves there. “I missed you too.” 

They stayed that way for a while, just holding each other. Quinn felt like he might cry, being back with her. Man, love had turned him into a sap. 

He understood why the older guys were always so anxious to get home to their wives. 

He moved just enough so he could catch her lips with his. A different kind of sigh moved through his body when she returned the kiss. 

After a few minutes of gentle, loving kisses, a loud gurgling came from his stomach, and Sarah laughed as she pulled away. “Let’s get some food into you,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen. 

“You sit,” she said, gesturing to the table, “I’ll bring you a plate.” 

After setting a full plate in front of him, she went back to make herself one. He was certain she’d eaten earlier, but didn’t want him to feel alone. It was eight already. All he wanted was to eat and fall into bed with her, letting her hold him. His eyelids seemed to get heavier at the thought. 

“Don’t tell me my food is that boring,” she teased sitting next to him. 

Shaking his head, Quinn tried to blink away the tears welling up in his vision.

Sarah set down her taco and put her hand on his forearm, “what’s wrong?” 

He sniffled. He felt like a kid, coming home from a bad game and crying to his mom. Except this time, the disappointment of loss was soothed by a swell of gratitude like he’d never felt before. 

His voice was thick and a little higher than usual as he said, "I don't know, just coming home to you, and to this,” he gestured at his plate, “I just feel so lucky.”

She smiled, and leaned over a corner of the table to kiss him, “I love you too. Now eat before you get too tired and wake up hungry in the middle of the night.”

He laughed, remembering the first time he’d done that very thing when she started sleeping over. She'd come out with his shirt on, voice and eyes bleary with sleep as she asked what was going on. Her eyes went wide when she flipped on the light and found him with a sandwich in his mouth. 

If he ate too early in the evening, hunger pains would wake him in the middle of the night. Nothing was going to wake him tonight if he had anything to say about it. 

His tears subsided, soothed by her knowledge of him, her scent and the food filling his stomach. 

He put the plates in the dishwasher, as she went about putting away all the ingredients. There were a lot of moving parts to this meal. He didn't even know he had that many food containers in his house. Maybe she had brought them from hers. 

“You can go lay down while I finish this,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. 

Quinn shook his head. He’d been too long without her. He wasn’t about to willingly walk away now. 

When they finally made it into the bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers, and washed his face in the basin beside hers. She removed her leggings, and threw some of the pillows onto the floor. Usually, she would stack them in a chair, but apparently, she was as anxious to get into bed as he was. 

They lay on their usual sides. She’d already seen him cry that day, so he didn’t feel as hesitant to ask for what he wanted. 

“Can you hold me?” he asked. It came out quieter than he thought it would. 

Sarah smiled, and scooted closer to him so their noses nearly touched, and she could bring her arms around him. 

“No like,” he felt his cheeks get hot, “can I be the little spoon?” 

“Sure, roll over.” 

“I can’t. My hip.” 

“What’s wrong with your hip?” she asked. “You told me you were fine." 

He winced, a flash of guilt in his face, "I don't have any major injuries." 

"But you have minor ones?" She pulled back the blanket to get a better look at him. 

“I took that hit and landed right on it in Calgary, and it’s bruised to high heaven,” he said. “It's not really hurt, but it's tender.”

Her fingers brushed down his side, and despite his exhaustion, his skin still reacted - shivering onto high alert.  She pulled back the band of his boxers to reveal a dark purple bruise that had gotten bigger since the last time he’d looked at it. Apparently sitting on the plane hadn’t helped him at all. 

“Oh, Q,” she said, voice turned nurturing instead of the coddling or "buck up!" he got sometimes from the trainers or his teammates. 

“Here,” she said, rolling on top of him.

If this was any other night, this would play out much differently. He kissed her still, because he’d been thinking about it for too long, and she was here. She was here. He was home, and she was here with her perfect mouth, and her cute, crinkly smile. He couldn't resist her. 

She deepened the kiss, devouring him like she just couldn’t wait any longer. She'd missed him so much. She knew he was tired. He'd been tired all week, but she finally had him back in the city - back in their bed - and she couldn't not. 

Quinn felt himself groan. His hands reacted instinctively, rucking her shirt up, anxious to feel more of her skin. 

Breaking away, she moved her mouth to the spot under his jaw that she knew made him weak. 

“Sarah,” he breathed.

She responded with a slow glide of her tongue. 

“I want you so bad,” he whimpered, “but…” 

She pulled away from his neck to look down at him. "But?” she repeated. 

“I’m so tired, I don't think I can keep it up.” A hot flush spread down his neck and onto his chest, “I’m sorry,” he babbled, “I really, really want to, but can we wait until morning?”

She bit her lip and nodded, swallowing down the hot desire she felt. 

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he promised. 

Her mouth melted into a smile. "I know you will," she said before pecking him on the lips. 

Sarah rolled off of him, onto the other side of the bed. “Scootch over,” she said. 

He did and she settled, tucking her body against his. 

“Wait, I need my pillow.”

They did an awkward shuffling dance to switch pillows without sitting up. 

Once settled again, she sighed into him. Every part of her was touching him, and he would have given her anything at that moment. He could even feel her nose against the back of his skull. 

He felt supported and loved, and home. Finally home. 

She draped her arm around his chest and he found her fingers with his own, lacing them together. 

“I love you, Sarah,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

“I love you too Quinn.” Her breath tousled the short hairs on the back of his neck, “I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you.” 

“I missed you so much,” he said, finding a way to somehow pull her closer.

As sleep overtook him, he found himself thinking for the first time in a relationship how much he wanted to be with her forever. How much he wanted to make a real commitment to her. He’d never felt that way before. He should call his dad to see if he could use his grandma’s ring. The thought was startling, and he realized he was getting ahead of himself. First, she needed to move in. He wanted her here. Everything was so natural with her. Finally, he really was home. 

Quinn couldn’t remember ever sleeping so well. He’d slept fitfully on the road trip, despite his exhaustion and usual ability to sleep anywhere. His brothers had been quick to send him funny memes about him looking like a zombie. He came home feeling like a zombie. 

Waking up now, things felt right. He wasn’t sure he could say it in any other way. It all just felt better and brighter. He felt rested, and invigorated for the first time in seven days. He was on his back, and Sarah was tucked against him, on her side. He finally had a day to himself, and he was going to spend every second of it with her. 

Her t-shirt had ridden up through the night, and her bare thigh was pressed against his. 

Spending some time memorizing that feeling, he waited for her to wake up. 

“Hey,” he said quietly after ten minutes when she showed no signs of stirring.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she tucked her face into her pillow, mumbling something he couldn’t understand. 

He laughed a little, and tried again, this time squeezing the arm around her. 

“What time is it?” she asked, her morning voice hoarse and a bit deeper than usual. 

That voice stirred something in him. It always had. It took him back to the first time she’d slept at his apartment. Waking up next to her was something he could never forget. The way she’d wrasped, “good morning,” before kissing him softly. It was one of his favorite memories. 

He glanced at his watch, “a little after seven.” 

She groaned and tucked her face behind his shoulder, “it’s too early to be up.” 

Laughter bubbled up his throat. “We went to bed at 9. That’s almost 10 hours.” 

Looping her arm over his chest, she somehow managed to pull herself closer to him as her leg covered him, her knee to his opposite hip. “Still too damn early,” she said, settling her head on his chest. 

“If you want me to go back to sleep, straddling my thigh isn’t the way to do it,” he teased. 

“I’m not straddling your thigh,” she protested, “I’m cuddling.” 

“I can still feel all of your skin.” 

She rolled her eyes, “if you want me to be up at seven, you better have a damn good reason, Quinn.” 

Rolling onto his side, Quinn cupped her cheek in his hand. He kissed her gently before rolling on top of her. “Is this a good enough reason?” he asked, working his leg between hers before licking farther into her mouth. 

“Mmmm… I don’t know,” she said, making a big show of shrugging her shoulders, even as her fingers were winding into his hair. 

He pulled back, “you want me to stop?” 

Her big blue eyes looked up at him, looked right through him, and it sent a shockwave through his whole body. God, how had he ever managed without her? 

“No,” she said, voice quiet, the morning hoarseness starting to wear off, “I’m up now.” 

“Good,” he said, “because I am too.” Leaning down to capture her mouth again, his hands pushed her shirt up. 

She pulled back with a groan, “did you just make a dad joke during foreplay?” 

His smile was impish, “maybe. Did you like it?” 

She rolled her eyes even as she was pulling him back down into the kiss, “It’s a good thing I love you, Huggy.”

He groaned at the use of the nickname. “Please don’t call me that in bed,” he begged, moving his mouth to her neck. 

She giggled a little before it bled into a moan. The sound shot straight to his groin. 

He had some theories he wanted to try out. 

Half way through the roadie, he had shared a room with Elias. 

The only explanation for the conversation that followed that night was Quinn's exhaustion. If he were normally rested, he likely wouldn't have brought it up at all. But sitting there mindlessly watching Sports Center, listening to Petey talk to his girlfriend in Swedish, he wondered if he was doing things wrong with Sarah. 

It's not that he felt Sarah was unsatisfied. She didn't seem to fake it, and their connection was only made stronger when they slept together. Even on nights when sex was off the table, but she still stayed over, sleeping in the same bed seemed to solidify their relationship more. 

Still, he worried. He wanted to be good for her, to be the best for her. And maybe their sex life was normal, but it didn’t seem like anything from the romcoms he’d seen, and he wondered if they were missing something. Maybe he wasn’t giving her something she needed.  

Anxiety always came easier when he was tired. That was the only reason he asked Petey what he thought being a good lover meant when he got off the phone.

“Does Emma like everything you do?”

“Everything?” Elias repeated, laughing, “no.” 

“No, like in bed?” Quinn felt his skin get hot. This was not the kind of conversation they usually had. 

Petey's pale skin flushed red. “Are you asking me how my girlfriend likes to have sex?”

“No. I mean maybe? I just mean, I want to make sure Sarah's satisfied, but I'm not sure how to do that.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Not really.”

“I think that's probably your best bet.”

“Yeah. I just feel like there are things I should know.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Like, foreplay stuff.”

“Do you not usually do that?”

“No.” He thought, then amended, “I mean we make out a lot. And she likes when I kiss her neck, so I do that. I get her off with my hands sometimes." 

“Does she seem like she wants more?”

“I don't know.”

They ended up having an extensive conversation in which Petey talked about how Emma liked it. How on nights when they had the time he would give her two or three orgasms with his hands and his mouth before they had sex. 

“She really likes when I suck on her breasts,” he said. “Actually every woman I've been with has liked that. I think Gretta told me that. She was my first girlfriend.”

Quinn had been mentally taking notes the whole time. 

“Honestly,” Elias said, “it's best when I ask her how she wants to be touched and she tells me. That varies from day to day. Sometimes she doesn't even want foreplay.”

So now, Quinn mouthed his way up to her ear, and whispered, “how do you want me to touch you?” His voice was husky and deeper than normal. He’d never sounded like that before, but he'd never wanted to be good for any other woman like this before. 

Her little gasp was followed by her hips tilting into his. Maybe Petey was on to something here. 

“Show me how you want me to touch you,” he said, moving his mouth down to the soft spot under her jaw he knew she liked.

He nibbled it with his lips as their hips surged together. 

Her hands were in his hair. And her fingers tightened as another soft moan escaped her mouth. The next thing he knew, she was sitting up, forcing him back onto his knees. She ripped her shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room. She was left in a pair of cotton underwear styled to look like men's briefs. They had tiny green flowers all over them and green trim. 

“These are cute,” he said, running a finger along the waistband. 

Her skin quivered under his touch. 

She pulled his mouth to hers before placing his hands on her breasts. “Here,” she breathed against his lips, “touch me here.”

God, if this wasn't the hottest fucking thing he'd ever experienced. Why hadn't he ever thought to ask her what she wanted before? He didn’t have to guess, he just followed instructions. 

Her hands covered his, and she led his fingers to roll her nipples. She arched into his touch and a whine escaped her throat. Her hands slid up to cling to his shoulders. 

Moving his mouth back to the soft spot under her jaw, he listened to her panting breaths for a while. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept that up. 

Time to put another theory to the test. He mouthed down her chest before wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking. Answers came immediately. 

“Quinn,” she moaned. Her hand cupped his head, encouraging him to stay there. Her hips ground against his own. He couldn’t hold back a moan. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, heat pooling between her legs, “that feels so good.” 

He’d never made her swear in bed like that. A ridiculous amount of pride swam through him.

He moved to the other breast and reveled in the groan that fell from her lips, a little louder this time. 

"I want your mouth all over me," she heard herself say. 

When they first got together, Quinn had been fairly inexperienced. Some due to them learning what the other person needed, and some, she figured, because he was used to quick hookups and had never been in the kind of relationship where a woman could teach him what she liked. If he had, that woman didn't know or appreciate the bliss that was oral sex. Perhaps she didn't see the potential Quinn could work with his mouth. Sarah didn't know how someone could miss it.

He got more bold as they got more comfortable, and she told him what she liked. Still, there were certain things she'd been dreaming about since they met that he seemed too nervous to try. He seemed willing now and she was teetering on the edge.

She whined when he lifted his mouth from her. He gave the puckered nub a kitten lick when she tried to pull him back down. 

“Where else do you want my mouth?” It felt a little dirty to say out loud, but her response had him wishing he’d asked before. 

She plopped back on the pillows behind her, and she groaned, louder still. He wondered if he might be able to get her to yell his name. The thought of it made him ache. 

“I,” she panted, “eat me out, please.” Sarah was so turned on at the thought of him finally going down on her that her flirty filter was gone. 

“You want it here?”  he asked, sliding his hand down to cup her, still covered in the cotton briefs. 

“Yes,” she moaned, “God yes. Please, Quinn.”

Quinn had only given oral sex once before. It was with a girl he dated in high school, and she all but forced him between her legs the first time they went further than making out. 

When he had started, not really sure what to do, hoping for a little instruction, she shrieked about him being a selfish lover and stormed out. He hadn't even needed to jack off. The experience was so deflating he hadn't ever tried it again. 

“How do you like it?” he asked now as he peeled the briefs down her thighs. 

He knew what Sarah liked, but the thought of failing her made his heart heavy and his ego ache. He wanted to be good for her. 

He had some idea from watching porn, but he knew by now that was an unreliable source. 

She kicked her underwear off the bed, and she was bare before him. An ache opened up in his chest. How was it possible to love someone so much? It wasn't just lust, even though he felt that too. It was vulnerability and trust made into action. 

“Like you do with your hands,” she said, "except with your tongue. I'll tell you if I need something more. I trust you.”

The anxiety fluttering in his chest calmed a little at her words. He decided it was better to just start. The baseline knowledge he had of her body told him things like the pressure she liked, and where she liked to be touched. 

He stroked his hands over her hips, and settled between her legs. 

“Tell me if you don't like something?”

She nodded, heart hammering with anticipation. 

He leaned in and parted her with his tongue. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Soft and warm and delicate. Also delicious. Sweet, tangy and completely different from anything he'd tasted before. He loved the smell of her when they made love, and this was the same amplified ten fold. The release he'd licked off his fingers before didn't even prepare him for this. It was so much better. God, why had he waited so long?

She gasped and moaned, hips arching up to meet his mouth. Finally feeling his tongue on her was better than any of her fantasies. 

"You taste so good," he groaned.

“Really?” she thought people only said that in books. Men written by women.

Now that he was here, a carnal, competitive need took over. He needed to get her off. It was more than a matter of pride. Now, it was something he couldn't live without.

“So fucking good,” he moaned against her as he licked and kissed trying different motions to see what she liked.

“There, there,” she said, body arching, hands fisting the sheets. “Right there. Don't stop.”

This was the most amazing thing he'd ever done. Part of him wondered why he'd waited so long. Most of him was thankful he'd waited to do it with someone he loved and trusted and who loved and trusted him enough to tell him what she needed. It was his favorite thing about Sarah. 

"Quinn," she moaned, "suck please." 

Sealing his lips to her, he pulled with his mouth. 

Pleasure exploded through her veins. 

The noises - the moans and mewls, the little grunts and gasps she responded with drove him on and nearly drove him out of his mind. 

All of him was more turned on than he ever thought was possible just from giving her pleasure.

Fuck, why had he been scared of this? 

Her fingers suddenly dove into his hair and tugged. He nearly exploded right then. Pulling back slightly, he breathed deeply through his nose to calm down. 

“Quinn,” she whimpered, “I want your fingers.”

He was dreaming. He had to be. Lifting his head, he asked, “what?” 

She whimpered at the sight of his face: chin wet, brown eyes soft with love, pupils blown wide with lust. “Your fingers,” she gasped, “I want your fingers inside me while you do this.”

He groaned. Where had this demanding, dirty talking girlfriend come from? Petey was a genius. 

He went back to work, taking time to kiss and nip her inner thigh before licking her up and down. 

“Keep your tongue there,” she begged. “Yeah, yeah, just like that.” Her hand slid to the back of his head, keeping him where she wanted him. 

He eased a finger into her. Her hips bucked. “Quinn,” she moaned and it was louder than ever. “More.” 

He slid in another, and she rocked with him. 

“I… I…”

He lifted his head a little to look at her. She was practically writhing on the bed. “You look so beautiful right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, pushing his head down again. “Put that pretty mouth back to work.”

He laughed and lowered down. He found her pulsing nub, and licked it into his mouth, suction gentle but decisive. 

There were a few more desperate moments of Quinn trying his best to please her and to not shoot off too early. It was like walking on the edge of a knife. Hopefully just because it was the first time. 

“Oh, oh Quinn, I - I’m gonna…” she said before his name was wrenched out of her mouth in a strangled cry. 

Her body pulled taught, legs flexing under his hand, as she clenched around his fingers.

The tension snapped and she collapsed, limbs limp. 

“Holy shit,” she said quietly as she came back to herself, gently pushing him away from her core. 

Quinn rose onto his knees and wiped his mouth on his arm. “I know,” He said, flopping down next to her. “I had no idea you had that in you.” He felt euphoric, and he hadn't even gotten off. Hearing his name drip from her mouth like that gave him a sense of pleasure and intense satisfaction he hadn't felt before. 

She giggled, riding a high she hadn't felt in a long time. “I knew once you got up the confidence to give me oral, you'd send me to the moon, but goddamn." 

“You…” his brain was swimming, “how did you know it would be good? I've never done it before.”

“Really?” she asked, genuine surprise in her features.

“My first time kind of blew up before she could tell me what to do. I was only sixteen. How did you know?” he asked again.

“We kiss all the time, Quinn. I know the magic you can work with your mouth. I've been fantasizing about it pretty much since we first kissed."

“Holy fuck,” Quinn said quietly as her words sunk in. Four months. He’d been denying her of that for four whole months. “I'm sorry I didn't try sooner.”

She rolled on her side to face him. “I'm glad you tried it now.”

Leaning in, she captured his mouth, slanting into him and rolling them so she was on top. 

Her mouth wound its way down his jaw, over his chest and down his stomach as she moved to kneel between his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his chest rising and falling quickly. 

She glanced up at him, and there was a spark of teasing desire in her eyes he wasn't sure he'd seen before. “Returning the favor.” 

All the air left his lungs in one big whoosh. His thoughts spun. 

“I… you don't have to –” but her mouth was on him again, and he lost the words. 

She didn't love giving blow jobs. She'd done it twice before. Once when they clinched the playoffs, and once when he begged for it explicitly. He knew it was something she endured rather than enjoyed. 

The thought of her mouth on him right now, though, sent his arousal into overdrive.

“I want to,” she said. “You did it for me. I do it for you.”

Yet another reason giving her oral was turning out to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made. Not only had it gotten her off and turned him on more than he thought possible, it made her want to get him off with her mouth. He was definitely buying Petey dinner the next time they were out. 

She slid his boxers off, careful of the bruise, and continued her teasing, mouth tracing over the v line of his right hip. 

“Sarah, please." He was so riled up, he didn't think he could take any of her teasing. 

He felt her lips curl into a smile against his skin. 

His begging had the opposite effect he was hoping for. Instead of sinking a little lower, her mouth started moving back up to his. 

A desperate sounding whine escaped him. 

“Does this work for you too?” she asked before putting her mouth over his nipple. 

Three seconds before that, he would have said no, but her hot, soft mouth on him shot a surge of pleasure straight down his spine. A deep growl ripped from his chest and his hips surged up, desperate for any kind of friction. He swore. 

She moved to his other pec and he felt like he might just combust. 

“Sarah, baby, please.” He begged, “please.” 

Her mouth lifted from his chest and he tried to gain control of his breathing. 

“I think that's a yes,” she said, a bit of laughter in her tone. 

Shifting down, she let her lips trail over his stomach again. 

When she finally took him between her lips, the shouted sound he let out was barely human. 

His muscles corded tight, desperately holding himself back from thrusting into her mouth. He was panting praises at her. 

She lifted her head and he whimpered. Had he ever done that before? 

“How do you want it?” she asked before wrapping her lips around the tip of him. 

"I-" He tried, but his thoughts kept getting jumbled. "Like that," he groaned when she ran her tongue under the head. "Can you - can you use your hand?" 

Her fingers wrapped around him, and he mumbled something incoherent even to his ears. 

“Hmm?” she asked not lifting her mouth. 

He couldn't hold back from bucking up at the vibration.

When he settled, she added her hand into the mix, gently twisting with her fingers. Hot, heavy pleasure flooded his limbs, turning them to jello. Oh god, he was in heaven. Her name came out of his mouth, moaned like a prayer. He wanted to worship her for the rest of his life. 

He was so strung out that he couldn't vet any of his thoughts. “I want to come in your mouth so bad.”

She looked up and their eyes locked. This image was going to be branded in his mind forever. He knew it would be a memory he called up on the road when he was missing her. 

She nodded, just slightly and sucked a little harder. 

“Fuck,” he said reverently. She’d never let him come in her mouth before. The thought alone had him tensing up right there. 

He tried to hold back. But feeling her come apart on his tongue had brought him so close to the edge already. Now, she had her mouth and fingers wrapped around him giving him the most amazing head he'd ever received, telling him he could let go in her mouth. All after 10 days without her. It was a losing battle

“I -” he tried to warn her, but his body was its own master, demanding release. He came in a sudden flood of intense light and pleasure that pulsed out to his fingers and toes. 

She made a small noise of surprise, but true to her word didn't pull away until he was spent.

Everything in his body went slack except his heart that pounded in his heaving chest. 

Vaguely, he felt her get off the bed and listened to her walk into the bathroom. 

When she came back, laying next to him with her head on his shoulder, she smelled fresh and Minty.

“Did you brush your teeth?” he asked, an edge of a laugh in his voice. 

She winced, “I know I'm supposed to be all sexy and swallow, but I just can't stand the taste of it.”

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. “I don't care if you swallow. I don't really even mind not coming in your mouth, that was just a heat of the moment thing. Thanks for letting me anyway,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

She adjusted so she could kiss his lips. “I'm glad you asked for what you wanted. Thank you for sending me to the moon.”

He pulled her on top of him and kissed her. It was slow and intimate. The kind of kissing no one told him was more intoxicating than all the quick makeout sessions he had when he was younger. 

“Do you think I can get you past it?” he asked. 

“Past what?”

“Past the moon,” he said.  

She laughed. “I mean, I guess anything's possible, but I'm not sure how you're going to top what you just did.”

“Well, I've got all day, and my only plans involve me showing you how much I missed you. So, tell me what to do and I'll take you wherever you want to go.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[night-dark-woods]

ID. Intercut excerpts of Baru Cormorant books and images and excerpts from the Wikipedia page for Cormorant fishing.

Baru:

In Falcrest, in the Metademe, they condition prisoners just so: permit escape. Offer a rescuer, a collaborator. Slip a key in with the food. Let them come close to freedom, let them feel real triumph-they would not let me this far! This is the crux: give them the taste of victory, the certainty that this cannot be part of the game. And then snatch it away. The collaborator betrays them. The key will not open the outermost door. With enough repetition, most prisoners learn to ignore a key, an open door, a whisper to run. Led out onto the street, they will wait to be returned to their cells. After a time, they begin to teach new prisoners the same.

Wiki: Cormorant fishing is a traditional fishing technique in which fishermen use trained cormorants to catch fish in rivers.

Baru:

"That's real," she tells the Oriati girl. "Only that. Duty? Law? The men who control you don't have any duties. The men who control you don't obey any laws. The act. THen they tell you that it's your duty to obey."

Image: Photo of a man in a boat wearing a broad-brimmed conical hat, with cormorants perched all over the boat and a long pole he is holding in both hands.

Baru:

"But you're not part of the true Throne." "The true Throne?" Baru snapped, dangerously. "Am I false, somehow?" "You are a foreigner. Xate Yawa is a foreigner. Apparitor is a foreigner. Do you really believe the real Throne would have so many foreign- born members? Do you really think it would have so many women?" Her eyes lingered on Baru as if marking the differences between them, at once dismissive and intensely domineering. "You didn't think it was coincidence they sent three foreign-born agents on this expedition, did you? And no one born Falcresti at all?"

Wiki: To control the birds, the fishermen tie a loose snare near the base of the bird's throat. The snare does not stop the bird from swallowing small fish, but prevents the bird from swallowing larger fish, which are held temporarily in their gullet.

Baru:

Tain Shir spoke in Maia Urun, the ancestral tongue of Baru's home; spoke as if she could taste Baru's thoughts. “Farrier is your secret master, for his mastery is secret from you. He has concealed it within your pride. He has dominated you through your conviction that you secretly resist him. There is no difference between pretending to obey Farrier and committing yourself utterly to his control."

Wiki: When a cormorant has caught a fish in its throat, the fisherman brings the bird back to the boat and has it regurgitate the fish.

Baru:

"So I am his model. A wild-type islander girl taught to govern herself perfectly. Taught to obey Falcrest no matter how terribly she wants to resist. Taught to deny herself the companionship and compassion she requires. I am his proof to Renascent that his method triumphs over Hesychast's eugenics. I am the one who will always obey, because I can always rationalize my obedience as my own will." In Urunoki, Baru gasped: "I am his weapon."

Image: A traditional Japanese woodblock print, captioned, "Viewing of cormorant fishing as an amusement (a woodblock print of Utagawa Kunisada, 1852)"

Baru:

"I know them all, there aren't any others—" Shir laughed like a jackal. "You think you know every cryptarch? There are more of them in Falcrest. There are many cells." "No," Barhu insisted, "there were many cells once, before the Throne was purged and rebuilt, and now there is only one—” "Wrong. They needed you to do provincial work, out here on the Empire's frontier. So they gave you a provincial's knowledge of the truth."

Wiki: Photo of a man grasping a cormorant by the back of its neck, a large fish falling from its mouth.

Baru:

"When the mask came to Taranoke, they said all the same things. New markets. Better trade. All you're offering is more of the same, Baru. More gears and levers to add to the same engine that ground us up. Maybe we get a lever to pull for our own benefit. Fine. But what about the people in this new market you're opening, in western Oria? What will they get? Pox and flu and civil war? A chance to be worked to death in yards and plantations?" She shook her head. "Water flows downhill, child. Pouring more water won't change that." "With enough time, water changes the shape of the river, ma." "Well," Pinion grumbled, "it still flows downhill."

Wiki: Traditionally practised for sustenance, cormorant fishing is now primarily performed for tourists.

Baru:

"You're walking a very dangerous road. You've built an engine to give you immense power. But you've also given Falcrest the chance to capture that engine. They will remake the whole Mbo in their mutilated image if they can."

End ID.

There is a difference between acting out their story, and truly obeying their story. Do you know what it is?

BARU CORMORANT ✴ cormorant fishing

[cyoc49]

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments

*click! click! click! click!*

Derek listened to the camera flash as he sat on the side of the bed. He was currently doing a photo shoot for HIMBO magazine, a fashion and lifestyle magazine “for the modern gay male™”. Fake blood dripped against his chest - they were doing some Halloween type of shoot. But let’s be honest, the blood wasn’t the focus of the shot: it was his body. Derek had never been the best student - and his attitude certainly didn’t help - but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make his body look as sexy as humanly possible. Derek scoured nutrition blogs to make sure he stayed up to date on everything related to fitness, and the dedication showed itself in his beautiful, sculpted body. Sitting here with no shirt on and wearing a pair of lethally tight skinny jeans, he looked like every gay man’s wet dream. To put it simply, Derek was hot as hell; problem is, he knew he was hot at hell.

“Alright, that’s good. I think we have what we need, thank you Mr. Hale” the director said. Derek stood up and two twinkish looking assistants came over to remove the blood. Derek stood still and tried to ignore the two obviously gay men putting their hands all over his body. Derek was the kind of guy who thought all gay men were jumping at the bit for any man they can find. Doing a photo shoot for a gay magazine was certainly not his dream, but hey: a paycheck is a paycheck.

After he was cleaned off, Derek put on a t shirt and enjoyed the feeing of it stretched tight against his pecs. He slung a Louis Vuitton backpack over his shoulders. All he had to do was collect his check and he could be done with this homo magazine. Derek headed towards the doorway connecting the studio space to the rest of the offices. He turned the corner into the hallway, only to immediately crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Papers went flying.

Derek hesitated, then reluctantly crouched down to help the man pick up his papers. As he did, the man spoke to him in a deep voice “You know, you should really watch where you’re going. People are busy around here.”

This was the remark that set Derek off. It was enough that he had done a photo shoot outside his comfort zone, and ran into someone while he was leaving, but now he was being sassed by some worker who couldn’t slow down enough to watch out for passers. Derek had had enough of this magazine. “You know,” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you fags would be more excited to slam into other guys.”

Derek could sense the shift in mood immediately. All the workers around him who had been buzzing about immediately stopped and looked at th scene. The office had gone dead silent. As Derek looked around at all the men staring at them, the man he had bumped into finished collecting his papers and stood up, allowing Derek to finally look at him properly. Woah, this was a fine looking man. Strappingly tall and ruggedly handsome. He filled out his expensive-looking three-piece suit perfectly. His whole demeanor was one of absolute confidence. Finally, Derek realized what had happened. He hadn’t bumped into some random employee. He had knocked over and subsequently cussed out the boss of the whole place.

*Well*, Derek said to himself, *I fucked up bad this time*.

The boss was surprisingly well-composed for someone who had just been called a slur, Derek thought. As if to prove this point, the boss suddenly started laughing. It was a good, deep laugh. And when he laughed, everyone else in the building laughed along with him. Derek stared at everyone in the office in confusion. Why did they find this so funny? Was it because he’s their boss? And they were all looking at the boss with such admiration. Derek just hoped this meant the issue would blow over and he could leave before embarrassing himself sooner.

But before he could step away, he was spoken to. “I used to get really angry when people said stuff like that to me,” the boss explained in a rich, inviting voice, “now it just makes me sad, because I see all the failed potential hiding behind that language.”

Derek took a little offense to that last statement, but he knew he was in no position to argue right now. It seemed like the laughter was the all-clear the rest of the office needed to know their boss was okay, because the normal hum of voices and keyboards had returned. Now it was just him and the extremely powerful man he had pissed off. Derek broke the silence. “Look, Mr...”

“Christian Le Maítre” the gorgeous boss informed him, “Editor in Chief of HIMBO magazine. But everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.”

“Right. Well, uh, Mr. M, I’m really sorry about-“

“No you’re not.” Christian cut him off without missing a beat. “I’ve seen so many models like you come and go through these halls. You think you’re hot shit, and take pity on all of my boys in this office who had to take desk jobs because their bodies weren’t nice enough to let them get by on looks alone. But you know, we’re hard workers here. And we’re a close knit family.”

Derek objected to being interrupted, but as Christian talked, he felt his defenses melt away with every word. Mr. M was right, Derek realized. I am a narcissistic asshole who holds myself above others. He had never felt like this before. But everything Mr. M said just seemed right. When this gorgeous, confident man spoke, Derek realized he was speaking the truth.

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. M asked him.

“D-Derek, sir. Derek Hale.” Derek was never one stutter, but how else could he feel right now?

“Well Derek, I’m sure our lame little office doesn’t fit your macho man swagger persona, but I think you’d find that working here is pretty great.”

Was that an offer? Derek didn’t know. He had completely forgotten the context of their conversation, and indeed his reason for being in this office in the first place was slowly becoming a distant memory. All Derek knew in this moment was that he HAD to work at HIMBO. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without working here.

Derek tried to compose a response, but was increasingly timid in the presence of this incredible man. “Well, uh, Mr. M. Perhaps if you have any opening I might be able to, uh-”

Mr. M just laughed again, and this time Derek laughed right along with him.

“Well I’m shocked to hear you change your tune so quickly, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Working here is kind of a dream job, if I do say so myself. But there’s no need to submit your CV and go through the traditional channels. I am actually prepared to offer you a job on the spot.”

Derek felt his ears burning. How lucky was he! To be offered a job at the best company on earth. He would take it immediately!

“Mr. M, it would be an honor to work for you” Derek bowed his head as he said this. Respect was important, especially for the man who was giving him a job no questions asked.

“Glad to hear it, sport! Now full disclosure, it’s a clerking position. I know, not the most exciting stuff, but here at HIMBO we believe even the most mundane work can be made magical! Of course, you would have to change a few of your behaviors to *best* fit the position. Your ego, your hot-headedness. Do you think those are things good for a clerk to have?”

“No, sir” Derek said with convocation. “Anything you want me to change, I will change.”

Christian cracked a smile, as if Derek had said something unintentionally funny. “Well I admire your commitment. It’s just, clerks are so straight-laced and serious, and you are such a character, Derek. Mr. Macho Man with a great body. Actually, I do like this body.” Christian looked Derek up and down, “I think that can stay. But as for everything else, well, I can take care of that.”

Christian stopped talking and instead just looked at Derek. The hopeful employee stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Just then, he suddenly felt a draining feeling. It wasn’t his muscles or his IQ or any of that stuff that he felt fading away, it was more like he was losing... his personality? All the pride Derek felt over his hot body and great life was disappearing. All the anger he get towards people not like him, slipping away. But it wasn’t replaced by new emotions, it wasn’t replaced by anything. Derek stopped feeling strong feelings about much of anything. He liked his job, he followed the news, but he had never had any opinions of his own. Never tried to be individual or stand out. Derek was becoming like his new favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla.

As Derek’s personality slowly morphed him into a contender for the World’s Most Dull Man, his wardrobe changed to follow suit. His designer t shirt loosened out a bit. The sleeves grew down his arms before spouting buttons and cuffs. Buttons also sprouted down the middle, and the shirt gained a collar, becoming a basic button-up shirt. A white plaid pattern spread across the shir. At the same time, Derek felt his skinny jeans go “pah” as all the tightness shrugged out of them, changing them into (gag) regular fit pants. They lightened to gray and changed material to thin cotton, becoming work slacks. His new plaid shirt automatically tucked itself into the pants, and a brown leather belt formed around his waist, with his expensive designer sneakers morphing into brown leather dress shoes to match. The LV backpack he wore fell as one of the straps broke off, before disappearing altogether. The remaining strap lengthened and slung itself over his shoulder, and the bag itself shifted into a basic messenger bag, holding plenty of important documents and paperwork.

For a brief moment, Derek felt confusion and fear. Why were these changes happening to him? Where did his nice stuff go, and what were these boring-ass clothes replacing them? These thoughts only lasted for half a second, before Derek realized how right this was. This was his style, or more accurately his *lack* of style. Derek had never cared about trends, or getting fancy new clothes. As long as they fit him well and looked professional enough for work, that was all that mattered in Derek’s eyes. A Ross Membership Card popped into his wallet to cement this change.

Derek felt something in his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. These were the glasses he needed to see, of course. Derek opened them up and put them on. To follow suit, his hair parted itself to the side and became thick with gel holding his new professional haircut in place.

As promised, Christian had left Derek his body, but had taken basically everything else from him. Where there had once stood an arrogant, trendy mode, there was now a walking turtleneck. Normally in cases like this, Derek would sprout new memories of his new life. But no memories came, because Derek didn’t really *have* a life. He was now a total office drone. From 9-5 he worked faithfully for HIMBO, and after that he went home and solved jigsaw puzzles until it was time for bed... except on the nights where Mr. M invited Derek to his house. Derek truly wanted nothing more from life.

Christian smiled at the new corporate boy that stood before him. “Okay I think you’ve handled the onboarding process well, Dirk. Dirk, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Dirk replied matter of factly. Dirk Kent. Filing clerk for HIMBO magazine.

“Great! But there’s actually one more thing I need from you. I’m still a little raw about that comment of yours earlier, and I would hate for it to taint our working relationship with each other, so allow me to bury this hatchet.”

Christian snapped his fingers, and Dirk felt his impressive manhood shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until he heard a “pop!” sound and knew that it was no more. Poor Dirk was smooth as could be in his private areas. But he didn’t mind: being unable to orgasm helped him focus on his work. And besides, if Mr. M needed help Dirk still had two perfectly serviceable holes on him.

Christian laughed again, eliciting another laugh from Dirk. “Dirk, pal, I don’t think I have ever been happier with one of my new hires. But you know, I do seal my deals with a kiss.”

“Why thank you sir!” Dirk replied with enthusiasm, as he allowed Christian to walk over, turn up his chin, and plant a kiss on his lips. And it was the greatest kiss Dirk had ever felt. Indeed, it was the only kiss he had ever felt, but as far as kisses go it was still pretty spectacular. As Dirk stood there with his lips pressed against those of his incredivle boss, he knew there was nothing more he would want from life.

As they parted, Derek looked hopefully up at his boss “Where should I start with my work, sir?” He lived to work.

Christian smiled again. “I’ll film you in on that in a minute, but let me take you to your desk. You’ll be down in the accounting department. In fact, I think you’ll be desk neighbors with our other new hire Bartholomew! You’ll love him. A total nerd but a sweet kid regardless.” Without warning, Christian turned and walked down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything. Dirk instinctively followed him, just as he instinctively obeyed every command Mr. M gave him. Life was easier that way.

[animationgreys]

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[thehotelbellamuerte2022]

The Hotel Bella Muerte: The Post Office

Ding! The bell rang aloud from downstairs, my attention now being torn from the photo and my thought to the ringing from below. I took one last look at the picture before heading downstairs to see who our newest guest could be. Once I rounded the bend and came down the staircase, I became aware of a smell that began wafting from the lobby. It wasn’t a terrible smell, it was quite pleasant actually. It had a soft floral scent and undertones of citrus. It was a woman’s perfume. As I reached the last step I could see the woman in question. She was a young woman, not much older than myself, and she had long dark brown hair with notes of caramel and red placed in afro puffs on top of her head. When she turned to look at me, she smiled brightly. Her eyes were similarly brown as her hair only they contained flecks of green and hazel. Her skin was a dark, creamy brown that radiated a sun kissed warmth; she was as tall as a year old sapling and every bit as lean and willowy, wearing a leaf green halter top and blue jean bellbottoms with flowery, yellow and red stitching near the pockets. She was very beautiful.

 As I made my way behind the counter, I began to say “Good morning and welcome to the Hotel Bella Muerte, how may we serve you today?” But all I got out was “Good morning and welcome to-” before I noticed something strange. In her bag which sat on the floor was something moving. At first glance all I saw was a swishing, black and white striped tail. I did a double take, and that’s what I saw that the tail was attached to a full grown lemur that now popped its head from the bag. She giggled when she saw the look on my face.

“Isn’t he the cutest!” she beamed. “I’ve had him since he was a baby.”

I had never seen a live lemur before other than at the zoo my family used to visit when I was child or in nature documentaries. I looked from the lemur back the lady and replied. “Yes he is. What is his name?”

“His name is Wally.” She replied.

“Wally,” I echoed, “Wally is a wonderful name for him, may I pet him?”

“Of course, he is so sweet and soft.” She responded.

I bent down to pet the lemur, in awe of having the privilege to touch such a wild and exotic creature. As I reached out my hand slowly the lemur gave it a quick sniff before it nuzzled into my hand. The lady was right; it was very soft and sweet.

“Aww, Wally likes you.” She giggled.

After petting the lemur I returned to my clerkly duties. “How may I help you today Miss……”

“Deborah but you can just call me Deb if you’d like.” She finished my sentence. “I’m just traveling through and I saw this gorgeous hotel and town and thought I’d stay and explore for a little and stay the night.”

“Of course Miss Deborah, any room preferences?” I asked.

“If you have a room with a view of the town that would be nice.” She responded.

“Of course, room #1 has an excellent view.” I said.

I accepted her payment, walked to the name cards, wrote her name down, and grabbed the room key. “You can follow me.”

I took her to room #1, once I opened the door the room almost seemed made for her. I had forgotten the theme of the room; the jungle theme. She squealed with delight when she saw the room and I noticed even Wally perked up at the sight of the various plants and small trees that decorated the room, he would have some place to hide and climb now.

“What a lovely room!” She exclaimed. “I think Wally and I will be right at home here.”

“Wonderful, I’m glad you like it.” I said. “Is there anything more I can do for you?”

“No not at all. I think Wally and I will settle in before leaving to explore the town.” She replied.

“Awesome, well let me know if you need anything, I’ll be around. Till then I’ll let you two settle in and get comfortable.”

“Thanks!” She responded and with that I turned and headed back to my room.

 Once there I was able to look at myself in the full length mirror next to the wardrobe. I looked….rough. I had the same clothes on that I had worn the day before, my short sleeved, red checked shirt and skinny jeans were all wrinkled and bunched up in some places. My hair no longer in ponytail, now hung in more of a half ponytail than anything and many strands of hair flowed freely about my face. My makeup had rubbed off and my lipstick smeared, my eyes looked tired and bloodshot and I had raccoon eyes from rubbing my teary eyes the night before. It was anyone’s guess how Deborah didn’t notice and if she did she said nothing for which I was grateful. Now that I had gotten her settled in I decided to take a quick shower, redo my makeup, and put some clean, fresh new clothes on. I chose to wear a bright, happy, navy blue sunflower dress that came to my knees, a yellow short sleeved cardigan to go with it, and my ruby red pumps. To complete the look I added a few articles of jewelry, small, gold hoop earrings and a gold, rose engraved locket that had been passed down in my family for generations.

 Once I had finished getting dolled up, I made my way to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before I too, like Deborah began to explore the town. I got to the fridge and looked inside once again, nothing, it was completely empty. I closed it and thought about what I wanted to eat that morning and decided to check the cabinets. The cabinets held exactly what I wanted and nothing more; just a granola bar and an apple. I found this unusual like all the other things at the hotel, but this was one of the more exciting things to be discovered. I took my breakfast items and left the room. As I went down the hallway on my way back downstairs, I decided to check on Mr. Elberton to see if there was anything I could do for him but when I got to room #8, his name card was gone and when I opened the door, so was he. Not a suitcase or hair left behind. I shut the door and went on downstairs. Once downstairs I wrote a note explaining where I was and what cell phone number I could be reached at should I be needed and placed it on the front desk. I then exited the building.

 As I stood on the steps leading from the hotel, the late summer’s sun shown bright and hot in the sky, the warmth was penetrating my body, touching my soul. I had needed this, the fresh air and the light of day to wash away all my troubles of the night before. I stepped into the street and began to explore the town. There were only a few buildings left standing of what I’m sure was the original town, many of them damaged by the weather and time, some had been burned and charred in places. The signs on the buildings had faded and were hardly legible, but some I could still read. There were five buildings all total, including the hotel. The one I stood before now was the post office.  

 The post office was a simple building. Made from the same maple wood that grew here in the woodlands of the east mountain regions of the nearby area, it sat directly next to the hotel in the line of buildings with only an alleyway between them. It looked small and squatty compared to the hotel, only about a third of the size and a fourth of the depth. The sign was inlaid in the wooden front of the building at the highest point just below the sheet metal roof. Out of curiosity I decided to go inside and check the place out.

 As I walked into the building, I heard the ringing of a small bell just above my head, signaling my entrance into the building. Walking in, I wasn’t greeted with the normal post office look I had come to know, instead it looked rather bare. There were no modern necessities other than the light bulbs that hung overhead, just a small wood burning stove with a percolator sitting on the only range, a rocking chair that sat next to the back left hand corner of the room near the stove, as well as a few other chairs that sat around a table in the center of the room. I noticed quickly that there was also a wrought iron bed in the other back corner of the room, with an old quilt for a blanket. Other than that there was nothing very spectacular or worth mentioning. Standing in the corner of the room, just beginning to pour himself a cup of coffee from the percolator, was a man of normal height and muscular build.

Without even turning around he asked in a gruff, gravelly voice, “Cup of coffee miss? I have an extra cup.”

 He turned after as he said this to look at me directly. I felt my cheeks grow hot and hurried to look away from the man. He was very handsome and looked only a little older than I did. His hair was a sandy blonde and his eyes were candy apple green, very vibrant in color. He had a natural tan and was broad shouldered, giving him an athletic look. He wore a dusty looking, white long john undershirt that had the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearm, a pair of equally dusty and dirty light brown slacks with suspenders, and an old, beige, cowboy hat that looked well worn and weathered.

“N-no thank you.” I stuttered out.

As he walked towards me I could hear the heel of his boots hit the floor. “What can I do for you M’am.”

I forced myself to look up then, my cheeks still blushing. I hoped to God he hadn’t noticed or thought I had simply been out in the hot sun for too long. “I work at the hotel next door to you. I’ve only been here a day and I had some free time, so I decided to check out the town. You were the first stop.”

He looked me up and down then, giving me the once over. I felt so embarrassed, why would my cheeks not stop burning? I decided to cover the one that faced him while I pretended to look at a single hanging mirror on the wall. He came closer still, until he was right in front of me. I looked at him then, for the first time longer than a few seconds, and noticed now that he was up close he also had light freckles on his cheeks and nose. My breath hitched. I didn’t even know this man; he was a stranger to me. So why was I being so shy? Never in my life had I experienced this and I was hoping the feeling would go away quickly. I liked being in control of my own emotions and body.

After looking at me for what seemed like a really long time to me, he spoke again. “So you’re the newest caretaker of the hotel; and what would your name be?”

“Autumn…..Autumn Winters.” I replied still lacking confidence. “And who might you be?”

“My name is Jasper Moon. I’m the postman here in town, but I’m sure you already gleaned that.”

I looked at the place once more and asked “Do you live here in the post office?”

He laughed softly in response. “Yes M’am I do, but I wouldn’t exactly call this place an office. It’s a post and a place to call home, nothing more.”

“Oh…..but you are in charge of delivering the mail and packages, are you not?” I said gaining more confidence by the minute, the redness of my face slowly dwindling.

“Of course.” He snorted then. “That is what I was paid to do after all.”

I felt embarrassed for the second time in his presence; my confidence dashed no sooner than I had gained it. I had just asked such a stupid question, of course he worked there. Why would I think otherwise? I must have stood there a little too long searching for a reply to his sarcasm that had taken me off guard, because he began to laugh again as he turned to walk over to the table. He took one of the chairs and slid it out from under the wooden frame of the table, turned the chair around now to face me, and sat down.

“Well Miss Winters, I must say, my first impression is that you’re not gonna last long here in this town.” He said once he had seated himself comfortably.

“What does that mean?” I retorted growing a little upset.

“Your too…..everything you shouldn’t be; too meek, too timid, too dainty, too young, too small, not too bright, and clearly not equipped to deal with the sort of things you’ll be facing in this town on a daily basis.” He replied taking the first sip of his coffee.

 I felt my face growing hot once again, this time not in shy embarrassment but rather in anger. Who was he to judge me? How could he tell I wouldn’t “last long” when he had literally only just met me.  What sort of energy was I giving off that read stupid failure to him? Yes I was small, but what did that have to do with anything? Yes I was young, but I was a fully fledged adult who legally could do just about anything under the law. Yes, as I had well figured out, I was inexperienced in dealing with the norms of daily hotel life. I learned that in my first 24 hours. I normally wasn’t shy, I just got flustered over how handsome he was and stumbled over my words a little and asked one obvious question not wanting to just assume things, though the thing that got me most worked up in that moment was that he called me stupid. I was many things, but I was not and never had been stupid.

“Now wait just a minute,” I said moving a little closer to where he sat, “Who are you to tell me what I am and am not? You don’t even know me!”

“I don’t know you, but I know your type. I’ve seen caretaker after caretaker pass through this town and only 3 have lasted longer than a few days or at most a few weeks. Every single one of them, with the exception of the 3, weren’t prepared for and never adapted to this life. It’s just how things have always been and how they always will be till this town no longer stands.” He replied draining his cup in a few large gulps.

“You don’t know that. No one can know that. It’s something time will have to tell.” I said as I crossed my arms in my defense.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we then?” He stood now from his seat placing his empty cup on the table.

“Yes. I guess we will and you’ll see you’re wrong about me.” I said sarcastically as I spun on my heels and headed for the door.

“Have a good day then M’am.” He said as I walked out the door, ignoring him and his goodbye.

 I no longer felt like exploring the town after that encounter. It left me frustrated and huffy. I decided to go back to the hotel and just try and work out my frustration by cleaning the place. When I got back to the hotel, I figured that the first thing that would need cleaning was room #8. Since Mr. Elberton had stayed the night, though he left the room in good order, it still needed going over. It took me a moment to gather the cleaning supplies in the closet behind the front desk, but once I had everything I was ready to get started. While walking out from the closet, I accidentally knocked the letter to the ground, and its contents slipped out. When I reached down to pick up the letter, it had opened to the specific rules outlining the cleaning of the various rooms. I took a closer look at it, not remembering having read this part. Why the owners felt the need to write exactly how to clean everything, down to polishing chess pieces I didn’t know, so I continued to read the letter. My eyes scanned the notes and landed the rule for room #8.

 Rule # 67 – Make sure to return all items Mr. Elberton takes to the various other rooms in the hotel and buildings in the town.

 I was a little confused to say the least. In all the time I had spent with Mr. Elberton the night before, I never seen him take anything. I suppose though he could have hidden any number of items in his pockets or his bag while he was left unattended. Seemed like a simple enough task though, I thought, but things are never simple or easy in the hotel. So I went up to his room with the cleaning supplies and got to work.

 In the process of cleaning the room I was shocked by the amount of things Mr. Elberton had taken. There were a number of items, ranging anywhere from as small as a quarter to as large as a baby elephant. Here is a list of the items he had taken:

7 spoons from the dining room.

5 chess pieces from the chess set in the lobby sitting room.

2 dozen boiled eggs from what I could only think would have been the fridge, all of them hidden throughout the room like some sort of poor man’s Easter egg hunt.

4 dolls from the doll room, how he got in there is anyone’s guess, the door is locked during the day and at night after the dolls have been moved to face the wall.

9 some odd books from the library down the way, at least I think they were the library’s books.

12 potted plants from the jungle room where Deborah was now staying, most in the smallest of pots and one young tree.

3 bottles of pills, none of which was in his name but thankfully also not missing pills (yes I counted them all)

And lastly

1 stack of letters with a note attached asking for me to mail the letters.

 After hunting down all the eggs and throwing them away, I returned the chess pieces to the sitting room, the dolls to the doll room, placed all the dolls back in their places, and all the spoons to the dining room. The last thing I did was drag the little tree to Deborah’s room as I balanced all the rest of the potted plants on various parts of my body and knocked on the door with my foot. She opened the door and gasped when she saw all the plants that probably looked like they were sprouting from me. Thankfully she didn’t mind my intrusion and asked no questions or even seemed phased when I placed the plants in her room. My last order of business was to return all the items taken from around town.

 After gathering all the items together I got ready to take them back to the various places in town, but before I left I needed to put stamps on the stack of letters. I grabbed a booklet of stamps from the front desk drawer. I flipped through letters licking the stamps and placing them on the envelopes as I went along. They were all addressed to people whose names I didn’t recognize but I absent mindedly read through them anyway. Three quarters of the way through the stack I dropped the mail on the floor as my eyes grew wide. Oh. My. God. What had I just done? I began to freak out, wondering what fresh hell I was about to go through all because I licked the damn stamps. I remembered there was something about licking stamps in what I had come to consider my survival manual. I reached behind me and grabbed hold of the letter of rules given to me by the owners and anxiously flipped through the rules. As my eyes scanned the pages, I finally settled on rule #132: Always lick the stamps in the presence of the postman.

 What the hell kind of rule was that? Even though I knew the rules were in place for a reason, because so far not following them led me astray, I didn’t want to go back to the same place I had just been and have to talk to the postman. I probably would have knowingly ignored the rule if it hadn’t have been for the sudden and inexplicable dizziness that had suddenly washed over me. I waited for a few minutes to see if the dizziness would pass but it didn’t. That’s when I knew I fucked up for sure. Knowing I was going to have to go back to the “post office” made me angry at myself, knowing I had forgotten the rule made it worse, and knowing I was going to have to basically admit to the postman that he had been right about me made is so, so much worse.

 I decided after a few more minutes of debating, when the dizziness only got worse, that I would take the plunge and go next door. As I made my way down the front steps I almost tripped and fell. I felt as if I had had one drink too many, causing me to stumble. Once down the steps I made the trek next door. The distance was probably only about 200 feet, but it seemed almost as if the ground shifted and stretched, becoming longer than what I had previously remembered. The drunken feeling only got worse the further I stepped and my muscles began to weaken. I didn’t know what was wrong with those stamps but, damn if it wasn’t messing me up.

 I opened the door this time to find the postman sitting at the table. At least, that was what I thought he might be doing. I couldn’t tell as my mind began to become cloudy and my vision blurred; nothing seemed to make sense. I stumbled inside straight to the center of the room where the table was. I had to hold on to something as the room spun around me. The postman looked up from where he was sitting reading a book when he saw me.

He looked at me, now getting sloppy and droopy, and only shook his head. “Now I know I made you upset when you left here earlier today but I didn’t take you for a drunk. Guess you were right, I did have you pegged wrong.”

“I’m…..I’m not a drunk,” I stammered, “I just licked the….the stamps.”

He let out a belly laugh, deep and long. “Tell me, did you even read the letter given to you by Miss Mary and Miss Martha, or did you just want to see me again so soon?” He teased.

“No!” I said a little too loudly without meaning too.”I just forgot.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. You should have those memorized by now. Those rules are the keys to your survival. If you wanna last here I s’pose you better get to it.” He said with a non-empathetic look on his face.

I slumped in the chair nearest to me and to the side of him. “Isn’t there something you can do to make it stop, the spinning I mean.”

“Yes M’am I can,” He said rising from his seat, “but it won’t work nearly as well since you didn’t take it before you licked the stamps.”

“What won’t work as well?” I asked, laying my now pounding head on the table.

“The elixir I make to counter affect the stamps effect.” He answered over his shoulder walking toward a set of cabinets in the back of the room. Pulling out a small, blue glass bottle he walked back and sat down next to me. “How many stamps did you lick?”

“I….I don’t know, maybe 6 or 7. There were a lot of letters to post.” I said in response to his question.

“Well I reckon you better drink that whole bottle then.” He said chuckling.

Why he found this funny I didn’t know, I didn’t know a lot of things at that time. But I did as he said. I pulled the cork out of the top of the bottle and smelled the contents. It smelled disgusting but if it would make the dizziness, splitting headache, weak muscles, and overall terrible feeling I was experiencing, I would have drunk a gallon of the stuff. I tipped the bottle back and gulped the whole thing down before I had a chance to truly taste whatever was in the bottle. I’m glad I did because it was all I could do to hold the liquid down. After a few moments the dizzying effects of the stamps lessened and the headache got better. I still felt weak and worn thin though.  

“What did you put on those stamps?” I asked after I had regained my composure a little.

“I didn’t put anything on those stamps. I wasn’t the one who made them but to answer your question, the people who did make them made the glue on the stamps from the sticky resin that comes out of some of the mushrooms that used to grow here.”

“Great, I’m not drunk I’m stoned.” I said as I tried to stand, only to find I couldn’t feel my legs as they gave out from underneath me.

“Whoa there!” he replied jumping up and catching me before I fell. “How about you just lie down and sleep it off. It’s the only thing you can do now. Just know you may have some interesting dreams.”

At this point my whole body went limp and I suddenly found I could no longer talk. Whatever type of mushroom the stamps had been made from or the liquid from the blue bottle must have had a tranquilizing effect. The postman then carried me over to where the bed lay in the corner of the room. He gently placed me on my back, turning me on my side; he placed a pillow behind my back. I had never done drugs in my life up to this point, I hadn’t even smoked weed, but I knew from watching certain TV shows and movies he had placed me on my side to prevent me from choking on my own vomit. I now grew a little afraid. If I had just licked one stamp and drank the liquid from the bottle I probably would have been fine, but I licked multiple stamps and drank the blue bottle elixir. Was I going to be alright? I didn’t have time to even ask the question before I passed out.

[lizzbaldini]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: PureFit Wrap Around Ruffled Bed Skirt Adjustable Elastic Fits King/Queen BEIGE.

[chicagofreestyle]

I'm tired about the hate Camila has been getting for the past few months so let me address something. After the release of ILWYDLS, a large chunk of people started turning their back on Camila. People would call for her to leave the group and basically bully her where she was either needing to defend herself or not come on Twitter at all. This went on for the longest time until she actually left. And even to this day she's receiving hate comments.

"Camila was using 5H for promo but couldn't take the heat when they were asked about her"

This one is pretty stupid. Go back to any of her interviews and you won't see one single bad sentence about them. She wished success for them on Down. If she had been asked and refused to answer, the 5H stans' narrative would've been she doesn't care about them enough to acknowledge them. The only ~not so positive~ mention MIGHT be I Have Questions. And even then she doesn't want to reveal who it's about. 5H on the other hand completely ambushed her. In the letter tweeted on December 19th, it was worded to say she had announced she was leaving at that exact moment but in the interview they said they went over the entire OT4 thing in April 2016. They basically wrote off her depression as "we couldn't change her and I sleep at night knowing I at least tried" (which was pretty fucking ironic how they demeaned her considering the focus shifted on Lauren's mental health like 2 sentences later). If you tell lies about someone, expect a reaction. It’s simple.

"Camila is racist"

Concerning the Facebook messages, never ever was she Camila Cabello. She was always Karla Cabello, there's literally screenshots online. She never called Normani the N word. It’s actually simple to get the most generic photo on Google, make it your profile picture and go along with it.

Concerning her 1D fan account and few DMs that leaked from 2014, she was literally a kid who owned up to it the minute it got leaked. She never tried shifting the blame, she took the heat and apologized for everything. I'm not excusing her for her actions but we're not all born knowing what's right and what isn't. Since her apology, she has shown support for the Black Lives Matter (each word has a different tweet) movement, even being seen in a Colin Kaepernick shirt (who is currently offering a free program to teach POC how to interact with police officers). The "Camila is racist" narrative is used as a petty way to demean her for something people made up or she had already apologized for. Camila isn’t the person she was before. A person who has not grown will try to change the environment around them to seem right, they wouldn’t correct themselves.

“Camila went behind their back and released solo music”

Come at me with this and I’d rock your shit. Let’s do the timeline that every 5H fan loves to hear.

July 10th 2015: Ally Brooke and Camila attend Taylor Swift’s concert in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Shawn Mendes is the opening act. Backstage, Camila and Shawn apparently wrote IKWYDLS. Ally is left in the pit.

November 18th 2015: IKWYDLS is released. Camila is a snake.

Here’s the actual timeline:

January 19th 2015: Worth It is released on iTunes.

January 28th 2015: Worth It debuts on the Billboard Hot 100 at #82

July 10th 2015: Ally Brooke and Camila attend Taylor Swift’s concert in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Shawn Mendes is the opening act. Backstage, Camila and Shawn apparently wrote IKWYDLS. Ally is left in the pit

August 8th 2015: Worth It peaks on Billboard at #12.

August 14th 2015: Fifth Harmony join Taylor Swift onstage to perform Worth It

November 14th 2015: Worth It falls out of the Billboard Top 100 charts.

November 18th 2015: IKWYDLS is released.

December 1st 2015: Lauren Jauregui and Marian Hill meet backstage after Lauren attended one of her shows.

September 19th 2016: That’s My Girl music video is released.

September 27th 2016: That’s My Girl is announced as the new single.

October 14th 2016: Camila Cabello releases Bad Things with MGK.

December 8th 2016: Lauren Jauregui releases Back To Me.

December 10th 2016: That’s My Girl debuts on the Billboard Hot 100 at #73

December 30th 2016: Lauren Jauregui joins Marian Hill to perform Back To Me at one of her shows.

December 31st 2016: That’s My Girl falls out of the Billboard Hot 100.

END OF TIMELINE

To sum it all up, Camila released her music at the end of the group’s singles’ life on the charts. IKWYDLS didn’t release until Worth It fell of the charts. Bad Things was released a few weeks after That’s My Girl showed no life whatsoever to be a hit like Work From Home or Worth It. Camila is a snake for writing with Shawn Mendes at a Taylor Swift concert. Camila is a snake for releasing her music when Worth It fell off the charts. Lauren, however, is a lyrical genius even after it was revealed she planned to collab with Marian Hill back around the time IKWYDLS was released. Lauren isn’t shunned for releasing Back To Me when That’s My Girl starts doing numbers? Lauren isn’t to blame for the group’s falling out when That’s My Girl was barely breathing and she decided that performing Back To Me was a must? That’s funny. Also let’s not mention how Ally debut her own solo song A WEEK AFTER Fifth Harmony’s comeback single Down was released and how Lauren collaborated with Halsey to release Strangers A WEEK BEFORE Down was released. Fifth Harmony and their fans had to be pissed after experiencing the same thing with Camila, right? Nope, now they say that solo projects keep the group together.

“Camila never defended the girls. She left them in the dust while her fans kept attacking them”

Except she did. This was a response to Normani receiving racial comments.

Response to The Vamps sexist comments about Lauren Jauregui.

MEANWHILE Camila was receiving comments saying she wasn’t committed or wouldn’t “share” solos. She responded to the person:

This was a HUGE thing so Fifth Harmony had to have said something right?

Here’s your answer.

So you’re telling me Fifth Harmony managed to go through all those months not seeing the hate Camila got? You’re telling me Dinah and Normani, people who constantly check their indirects and timelines never peeped her getting hate and only saw love and support to them? But you wanna say Camila was the one who always stayed mute?

“Fifth Harmony tried their best. They asked for meetings and she never went”

Before I get to that, let’s do a flashback:

“LaPolt successfully transferred the Fifth Harmony trademark from Cowell to the group, meaning the women now own the name, along with the right to control how it is used and to profit from any deals. (The agreement -- signed in April 2016, months ahead of Cabello’s exit -- doesn’t name Cabello in the “Fifth Harmony Partnership.” “I don’t represent Camila,” is all LaPolt will say.) She then renegotiated 5H’s contract with Epic, which she characterized as “a very adversarial” process.” ----- Taken from Billboard article recently.

Except:

Camila wasn’t listed on May 11th 2016, not April 2016. Here’s the funny part:

“We called for group meetings which she refused, we asked LA Reid and the label to step in and try to set meetings, which again, she refused. We even went as far as group counseling which she did not show up to.” ---- Fifth Harmony’s letter to fans announcing Camila’s departure.

EXCEPT:

Camila was spotted with LA Reid in April 2016, a person the group claimed Camila never saw. At the second picture, the guy’s name is Joey Arbagey. On his Linkedin profile, he’s listed as the VP of A&R at Epic Records, So you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence Camila was seen with LA/Epic Records consultant a few weeks before everything was done for good? Camila just attended a meeting that the group said she never went to? Interesting.

And last but not least

“Camila never tried with them. Fifth Harmony tried being there for her.”

THEY

LITERALLY

DIDN’T

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 4: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Previous Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

Within his short 18 years of his life, Gilbert knew he fell short of a lot of things. Most of the time the list of his personal struggles were propelled far away from the contemptuous moments of strife that he was forced to worry about currently so in turn of all that he wasn’t used to being open to his subconscious pacing mind. All the repressed trouble he cooked up was bubbling over- much like Arthur’s attempt of ‘soup’ from last week. Whenever he seemed to not be distracted by a family issue presented by his brother, it was coursework that acted as blockade from having a social life, or sometimes the extremities faced when dealing with pesters from Elizabeta and Roderich (Only God knows what those two would be doing on a weekend...); even the occasional whining from a certain Frenchman.

A chime of a small bell over the café’s door announced his presence to the other inhabitants. The oaky smell of old counters flooded his senses and the light yellow walls plastered with generic atmospheric photos of Himaruya Academy’s campus populated some of the emptier spaces (You could tell these were taken by students as well, what with the tiny label under each photo). Aromatic aromas of freshly brewed coffee and whiffs of alluring chai lattes made Gilbert smile warmly, it was if he had been hugged by comfort itself. You would think a café would be empty at around 10 pm, but it seems like the need for caffeine for any student was a constant. The distance between his dorm hall and the small campus café was luckily close, a breeze of a stroll that delighted any exhausted student, thus his tardiness in his arrival was actually inexcusable. He mulled over trying to produce an excuse to give later to explain his delay… Of course, his overall excitement was at an all-time low considering Gilbert would have to deal with an infuriated Ludwig-

“Seriously Gil? You’re late 20 minutes”

Speaking of the organised stick-in-the-mud devil, his younger brother (Who, unfairly, had grown taller than the paler of the two) was eyeing him with annoyance and the albino could practically feel the dagger-like stares pushing into his chest. A cockier-than-usual ‘I’m more organised than you and you know it' looks of disapproval caught him off guard… Oh god is he going to say something about the new shir-

“Mein Gott, How the hell are you funding your wardrobe when you can’t even pay me back?”

“Lovely to see you too dear West, I’m doing fine, Gee thanks! How thoughtful for you to ask.”

Sarcasm and mock pleasure rolled off his tongue easily and with a sublime sense of satisfaction. But as he went to sit down at the small table he noticed the change in mood. facing diligently and apprehensively at the stern look of his brother he realised that his obvious joke will not go without consequence…clearly, Ludwig had something serious this time and the call for the older sibling was not an act of choice but instead an act of necessity. Gilbert gulped. Fidgeting slightly, preparing to be the bearer of bad news, the blue-eyed sibling attempted to keep his voice lower than usual and to keep the conversation at a seemingly okay level of panic:

“We can’t exactly quit our jobs this holiday, and my calculations state that we might even have to pick up an extra shift. There is no way we can visit Uncle this year.”

Gilbert flinched and could swear he felt his heart break a little. To others the news may not seem to be ‘that serious’ – sure it was bad but being heartbroken was an over exaggeration right? Consider the fact you had been working your FUCKING ass off your whole life, juggling multiple jobs while studying with a crappy stream of income and pay check-to-pay check funding, being robbed of countless hours of personal time that in your eyes were a privilege, never a minimum, and last but not least the breakdowns when you realised you felt so alone. This news would make your heart shatter like fragile glass. ‘Fuck karma, Lady Luck couldn’t give him a day off,’ It seemed like dog days would never be chased off. Unbelievable. Inconceivably pissed off. Flipping the table, walking out and burying himself in the nearest graveyard felt like a reasonable move as of right now.

“What. The. FUCK.”

“Calm down we can handl-“

“I can’t!- There has to be some miscalculation, last I checked we had enough for that break, I was given time off and a pay raise! This shouldn’t- What-WHY? I PRACTICALLY DIED.”

“Look I get it- I’m not happy either?! But shouting won’t do us any help either!”

He was fuming and he could see the fury shining in his company’s eyes as well. Growing up Gilbert always hid his vents and rants and kept his true thoughts away from the impressionable mind of his sibling but at times like this, it was clear what they were both thinking. Ludwig must have known this news hit his brother harder than it would him, and those awkward compassionate pats were a pitiful attempt at family comfort. They never really used affectionate gestures in the past, there was never any time for stuff like that.

Years and years, harking as far back as the tender age of 14, he could recall working for an extra bit of pocket money. Pocket money soon evolved into a college fund for himself and West within 2 years. Not to mention the small amounts he had to save for indulging to keep the sanity that prevented him from turning into an emotionless working robot. Thankful was not a strong enough word to describe what Gilbert felt for his uncle, there wasn’t any word that could achieve the level of gratitude the boy held for the old man. Respect towards the old man was something he taught Ludwig early on (Come to think of it, they moved in with their Uncle when Ludwig was only...12?), even if the latter didn’t understand their situation at that very young age. Spaced out due to the reminiscing he hadn’t noticed the warm cup of coffee that had been kindly delivered to him (Yes, a nice cup of coffee at 10 pm, go college life!), Ludwig’s strong voice started to come back to the forefront of his attention;

“You take your rest, you deserved the break, Bruder. I can do an extra shift- Feli says his shift has an extra slot anyway that I can take and it’s not very long, we just need to rearrange the bank allocations…” The blonder German was droning on and was in actual fact, talking to himself more than he was meaning to actually converse with the other.

Sighing into his now slightly cold coffee, the teen pondered over his choices and reviewed his recent schedules: wake up, eat, Attend lectures, go to multiple work shifts throughout the day during his study hours, do some coursework till the morning light and pass out, repeat. He had started slacking this continues the cycle of college-life torture. He had finally worked enough to wager a good break that his boss from his large shift (A shitty – but hey it’s decent? – 7 bucks an hour) at the local cinema, an undesirable night shift that no one wanted to partake when they could be partying. Only this month had he been throwing away his frazzled mind with hook-ups and well-deserved parties with his former Misfits.  He had ached for those nights again, and for a short while, he had them back. What was the point of being a ‘creative’ mind when you can’t produce any of the garbage you actually want to?! Being stuck in the mantra of: “How many tickets sir? Which seat..? Hope you enjoy the show!” was the cause of the internal bomb of irritation that ticked faster and faster and Gilbert wasn’t even sure he would have any fuse left soon.

I’ve got to go. Was it ever possible to become unattached to reality? God I wish, with haste Gilbert suddenly got up and bolted out with mutters of incomprehensible frustration.

“Gilbe-Where are you goi-Hey we aren’t” the protests over his disappearance faded into the background as Gilbert left to walk back to his room. He could really do with some music.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LIVES NEXT DOOR?! HAS HE HURT YOU? OH MY GOD”

Matthew lamented over his wasted time, the paint covered boy had nestled down on his bed with his ruffled hair and head thrown back onto the cushy red covers, He could be actually painting right now…or y’know…seeing Tim for a drug hit. Eyes shut with another exhale of boredom as Alfred rambled on, shooting an overdose of “He’s the bad kind, he’s not good, and he could be a murderer” lecture into the strawberry blonde’s tired ears. You would think a prodigy with a near IQ of 160 would be able to identify a real threat.

Sometimes he really just wanted to forget about this.

“I don’t think we are even thinking of the same person Al” blurting out quietly, still trying to zone out from his brother’s incessant fussing. “Have you even met him?”

“I don’t neeeed to meet him. I KNOW he’s bad for you, I don’t want him touching and getting all up in my little brother’s space and…poisoning him with all the college nonsense.”

Bullshit, poison what? I already drink and take- Ahh that’s right he doesn’t know about the ‘college nonsense’ I actually do participate in. Woops.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, hell you’re starting to sound old like Artie”

“I am not-I am NOT like Artie! Why the sudden interest in this Gilbert GUY ANYWAY??” This had dragged on for an hour and Matthew needed to make a dash for Tim’s house if he wanted to get done in time to come back reasonably sober.

“Don’t you have some project to do Alfie? It’s getting late and I want to do some work-Besides wouldn’t you want to call Kiku~” 1 point to Matthew, He had gotten his brother to look off in revelation and gain some red tinge on the cheeks. Kiku, a Japanese student who his American sibling had met and been pining for, was located at Himaruya Academy’s Tokyo campus (Mostly shortlisted to ‘The Deen Campus’ after its association). The two had been introduced during their foundation year and it was clear his sibling had a very big soft spot for the guy, so much so after the Japanese student transferred back to Japan they kept in touch with long Skype calls and endless texts. They, to quote: “Are n-not dating!! Kiku’s Not even interested…in guys…..or me.”

Hurriedly and trying to look less embarrassed, Alfred scuttled out. ‘Finally’. A glance at his watch told Matthew he would need to leave now or else Tim will call him out for bailing- ‘I am not gonna lose this cus of Al goddammit’ – Grabbing his trademark and overused hoodie, the stocky 18 year old climbed out of the way too small dorm window. Armed with his phone and car keys, he clambered into the cramped car and drove steadily down out the campus to his friend’s rented house; a typical scene for bad cliché college parties – happily it was not time for any party. As idiotic as it may seem, Strolling through the front door would not be a good idea as his childhood friend always warned him his sister would not appreciate visitors at this time (Matthew was 100% Laura didn’t even know Tim did pot, nonetheless that he did pot WITH Mattie), so he took the safer route (‘Well, physically more dangerous’) and climbed onto a small balcony on the side of the house, softly knocking on the glass that had the curtains drawn-

“You’re late.” Looking up to face his taller companion, the Canadian heard the gruff voice of annoyance as he pulled back the curtains and the sliding glass door opened.

“Sorry T, Al got me caught up in some bullshit, the hoser kept me busy…” The scarfed house owner moved aside and silently invited him into the messy room. On closer inspection, messy would not be applicable – while the floor was covered in some clothes, questionable (?) magazines and beanbags, the dark blue walls hoisted clean neat shelves which held a multitude of knickknacks.

“..You know you could’ve gotten started without me?

“Hah. Yeah right, where’s the fun in that Mattie?” A small tired-sounding chuckle flowed from the taller of the two, a bong had been passed towards Matthew who had founded himself cosy in a familiar beanbag. The haze felt good already. Matthew took it eagerly and grumbled: “How much do I owe you?”

“Honestly…Too much. Hah, No but like come on Mattie, I thought we got over this already. I’m not gonna charge a friend for this stuff. Especially not you.” Grinning with humour the Dutchman took the beanbag opposite to him.

It was all very strange at the beginning of this whole ordeal with his Dutch friend. They had grown up together and Matthew had very good relations with the ‘Van-der-Berg’ family. After joining the Academy he was glad he at least had a recognisable older pal but throughout all of the years that had gone by knowing him, he always noticed the precise and businessman-like nature of this man. Yet when he offered to help Matthew get his usual weed (Something Matt had easier access to in Canada and the times he visited the Netherlands and definitely something you don’t shout about) he didn’t charge a single penny. Hell, this fucker had once charged him after Matthew dragged them to the bathroom at camp…when they were 12 YEARS OLD. This guy always needed wanted to make a dime. Except for drugs. Which…was insanely strange AND expensive. ‘Especially not me? Ah Tim, I still really don’t know you.’  He tried not to think about it so much as when there was sweet dreamy smoke being smothered and pushed into Matthew’s body.

Sometimes it is possible to forget about things, you just need the right stuff.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

'Holds everything in place:' The 10 top-rated sports bras, according to shoppers

Sports bras are necessary, but they can be evil. Think chafing, digging, laughable support, cups that fall out in the wash. But when you find a great one, you’ll hold onto it for dear life.

Working out takes effort enough, so we’ve eased your burden by seeking out the best, highly rated options. Think of how much easier it’ll be to get to the gym if you feel good about the sports bra you are sporting.

We read reviews and prioritized comfort, support and snazzy features. The result? Ten sports bras — from one with adjustable straps to an easy-on, easy-off zip-front version — sure to lend support.

A-C Hyper Focused Bra in Powervita

A-C Hyper Focused Bra in Powervita (Photo: Athleta)

“The multiple straps are so pretty peeking out of workout tops,” gushed one reviewer. “I have tried several sports bras and this was the most supportive,” said another. And you can’t beat the bright color (Sunrise Orange) that’ll give you that jolt you need to get to the gym.

Shop it: A-C Hyper Focused Bra in Powervita, $49 (20 percent off when you sign up for emails), athleta.com

Enilte Bra

Enlite Bra (Photo: Lululemon)

Reviewers swear by this soft, supportive bra, raving about everything from the full coverage to stay-put cups and impressive comfort. The nice wide straps won’t dig into your skin, and the back hook-and-eye closure means it’s easy to get on and off. It’s not cheap — but it’s quality that’ll last (I can attest to this, having bought a Lululemon sports bra years ago that still looks new — no fading or stretching whatsoever).

Shop it: Enlite Bra, $98, lululemon.com

Bonrich Sexy Women’s Sports Bras — ON SALE

Bonrich Sexy Women’s Sports Bra (Photo: Walmart)

This steal of a racerback sports bra got five-star reviews across the board (“super soft;” “great for high impact and comfy for low impact;” “holds everything in place”). Small air holes throughout provide cooling ventilation. Hand wash only.

Shop it: Bonrich Sexy Women’s Sports Bras, $9 (was $15), walmart.com

Natori Yogi Contour Convertible Sports Bra

Natori Yogi Contour Convertible Sports Bra (Photo: Bloomingdales)

This high-impact sports bra contains underwire for ultimate support. Busty women praised the support it provided; someone even said it kept everything intact through jumping jacks and all. Back clasp. Straps can go straight or criss-crossed. Hand wash only.

Shop it: Natori Yogi Contour Convertible Sports Bra, $68, bloomingdales.com

High Support Racerback Sports Bra for Women — ON SALE

High Support Racerback Sports Bra (Photo: Old Navy)

Ideal for high-impact workouts, this racerback style features padded shoulder straps for comfort and a double hook-and-eye closure on back. Reviewers liked everything from the bra’s comfort and support, and included one very important note: it “doesn’t create the dreaded “uniboob.”

Shop it: High Support Racerback Sports Bra, $25 (was $33), oldnavy.com

Brooks Fiona Sports Bra

Brooks Fiona Sports Bra (Photo: Nordstrom)

Adjustable Velcro straps! We repeat: Adjustable Velcro straps! That’s a rare, great feature that helps create a customized fit. Designed for medium-impact activities like weight training, aerobics and running, with an open back that works well under leotards. Back closure.

Shop it: Brooks Fiona Sports bra, $50, nordstrom.com

Wacoal High Impact Convertible Underwire Sports Bra

Wacoal High Impact Underwire Sports Bra (Photo: Bare Necessities)

Designed to minimize the bounce factor even during high-impact activities, this full-coverage bra in eye-pleasing violet features straps that covert to a racerback style for even more support. Reviewers say it’s so comfy you just might make this your everyday bra.  Made of moisture-wicking microfiber with a three-hook back closure.

Shop it: Wacoal High Impact Convertible Underwire Sports Bra, $72, barenecessities.com

Sayfut Women’s Seamless Sport Bra

Sayfut Seamless Sport Bra (Photo: Walmart)

This easy-on-the-wallet zip-front option is a nice alternative to fumbling with back clasps or dealing with over-the-head maneuvering. A mesh back offers breathability; the shirred front provides a nice full shape.

Shop it: Sayfut Women’s Seamless Sport Bra, $10, walmart.com

Fittin Racerback Sports Bra

Fittin Racerback Sports Bra (Photo: Amazon)

And here we present Amazon’s #1 best-selling sports bra: the Fittin Racerback. The V-neck is flattering, the racerback is supportive without being constricting and the price is ridiculously cheap for a pack of three — black, gray and aqua. Made of super-soft moisture-wicking material; pullover style with removable pads.

Shop it: Fittin Racerback Sports Bra, $23 to $26 for three (depends on size), amazon.com

Under Armour 7.1 HeatGear Cross-Back Low-Impact Sports Bra — ON SALE

Under Armour 7.1 HeatGear Cross-Back Sports Bra (Photo: Macy’s)

Designed for yoga, Pilates and other low-impact activities (napping?), this bra sports thick straps, a stylish scoop neck and mesh panels on the front and back to keep you cool. And its removable cups have arrows so you know what goes where — genius.

Shop it: Under Armour 7.1 HeatGear Cross-Back Low-Impact Sports Bra, $23 (was $30), macys.com

The editors at Yahoo Lifestyle are committed to finding you the best products at the best prices. At times, we may receive a share from purchases made via links on this page.

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle:

Are these the most comfortable sneakers ever? Zappos reviewers think so

These warm workout leggings will make your body think it’s spring

9 fitness trackers to get you in shape in 2019

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

[alternate-universe-scenarios]

Vogue

Title: Vogue

Pairing: You/Park Jinyoung

Word Count: 3,712 words

Genre: Smut

Rating: M+

AU: N/A (except being a stylist if that counts)

Synopsis: A case of coming in to work with bad symptoms and an hour to spare.

“You’re late.”

 Arms crossed, face stern, and a bad sense of fashion - what else could I have expected when I entered Park Jinyoung’s dressing room? I’m getting ready for a good reprimanding, knowing how Jinyoung tends to get on his “mother mode” and never letting me live for every mistake I do.

 “I overslept.” I answered nonchalantly as I threw my bag and my coat on the arm rest of the black leather couch.

 My eyes were still adjusting from the amount of light I’m being tortured with. Jinyoung’s vanity mirror was sometimes too much to bear but he told me he needed this much light because camera flashes are harsher and he needs to make sure his make-up covers his facial hair well-enough.

 “That’s the best excuse you can come up with? I’ve been here contemplating for a good thirty minutes on what to wear and you come in telling me that you just overslept?”

 “Come on Jinyoung, you're starting to sound like Bambam.” I replied knowing that telling him anything longer than that would only probe him to ask more questions when I really have no excuse for being lazy today.

 “Am I not that important to you now? Should I request for your replacement?”

 Ouch. Jinyoung’s sass and sarcasm does get to me at times but I should be used to it knowing that this is how he jokes around.

 “Not with what you’re wearing.” I spat back to which he wore a disgruntled expression in response.

 Seriously, what could be worse with a trench coat, ankle-length tan-colored slacks, and sneakers?

  Jinyoung considered lurking in Twitter to be a hobby. But behold, stalking his fans only yielded awareness, for it was during that one day he scrolled past a post making fun of his outfit (with about a thousand retweets) was also the day he swore he’d consult a proper stylist.

 Ever since I worked with him I knew his wardrobe needed a fix. Some ensembles and a thousand retweets about his new fashion later, he was so pleased that he requested for me to be his permanent stylist. That, and the fact that his previous stylists couldn’t manage to survive his critical thinking and his sharp tongue.

 Then again, on days when he wasn’t so composed, he’s completely indecisive and nags like there’s no tomorrow.

 “Well, this was supposed to be your job! You abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

 “Is that line really for me or are you practicing for a drama role?”

 Jinyoung scoffed. “Every time I tell you the truth you always think it’s for a drama.”

 “You’re the one who said acting is life.” I said with half-lidded eyes.

 Jinyoung was silent, lips pouting and eyes staring daggers into my soul.

 Yep, now I’m positive he loves me.

 It might sound as if we’re fighting but if it was me, I’d rather call it “mental stimulation” and for a bookworm like Park Jinyoung, I’m sure he enjoys the little debates we throw at each other.

 I savour the moments when I shut him up because I know he would think of something later on and use my blunder today repeatedly for revenge. This is nothing different from that ‘meat incident’ with Jackson and Bambam. I can just imagine him saying ‘remember the time when you were late for thirty minutes and I had to go out wearing my usual fashion thus making me the joke of social media?’ and I’m sure he’s not going to live this down until I fully make it up to him.

 I couldn’t keep my amusement when I stared at his outfit again. At least he knew he needed help on this subject and had the courage to admit it.

 “What is it with slacks that you love them so much?” I said as I turned to the clothing rack to rummage for a better concept – one that doesn’t involve pants that he fancied a lot.

 “It’s comfortable.” Jinyoung replied as he removed his trench coat to reveal a simple white shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up to expose his biceps which seemed to be getting toned recently.

 He threw the coat on a chair before he stretched his arms and rolled his head back, eyes closed. I discreetly watched him through the mirror trying to focus, but his flexed muscles and deep grunt were enough to turn me on so bad that I got caught staring.

 “What?” Jinyoung asked with a blank expression. “You’re zoning out.”

 I shook my head rather violently to get rid of the previous thoughts away.

 “No, you just…” I started. And it was a wrong start.

 You just mess me up so bad, damn it.

 Jinyoung tilts his head to the side anticipating my answer.

 “…dress miserably.” I answered quickly and then turned back to pushing metal hangers harshly to the side that it screeched against the rod of the clothes rack.

 “Wow, you’re in a sour mood today.”

 I stopped rummaging and sighed deeply. “Sorry. And sorry for being late and cranky, I’m about to have that monthly visitor I guess.”

 And this probably explains why Jinyoung looks extra inviting today.

  Being horny counts as a symptom, right?

 Jinyoung sits on the couch and crosses his legs. “Be thankful I understand well enough because I have two sisters.”

 “Thank you almighty Park Jinyoung.”

 Jinyoung smiled looking more pleased than he should be.

 Ha, how easy.

 “So what do you have today?”

 “Facebook live, photo shoot with Glamour, and a press conference.” He replied lazily without even batting an eyelash. “Dinner with Mark too, if you’d count that.”

 My attention was grabbed. Sure I had a crush on Mark but my crush on Jinyoung had been getting stronger recently. Seeing both of them together was worse – it’s like I had to choose between them when I don’t even have both of their attention…yet.

 “I would have asked you to come with us but considering you’re late today…” Jinyoung moved his head to the side to taunt me.

 Whew, that was fast. Look there it is: using my blunder as a convenient reprisal. He was well-aware I had a crush on Mark and that is such a big inconvenience, but no, I’m not going to beg and I can’t let myself get caught up in his little blackmail so I threw him the first set of his outfit to immediately change the topic.

 “That’s for both your Facebook live and photo shoot.”

 “How economical,” Jinyoung sassed while he examined his white jeans and striped shirt. “And shoes?”

 “You’re going barefoot.” I said before throwing him another set.  “That’s for press conference.”

 Jinyoung caught the dark blue suit and then I kicked a pair of white leather shoes which slid next to his feet.

 “Do I not get an outfit for dinner with Mark?” Jinyoung’s voice was full of jeer but I chose to ignore it.

 “No. You should get dressed, what time does your live come on?”

 “In an hour.”

 “Great.” I stated then plopped myself on the couch while Jinyoung barely saved his suit from getting crinkled.

 “Give me five minutes then I’ll get your hair and make-up done.” I said as I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I hate pre-menstrual syndromes.

 Jinyoung was quiet and it got me wondering because he’d usually make fun of me with a smartass remark by now. But when I opened my eyes, he was staring with a surprisingly concerned expression on that handsome face.

 I got so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice I was looking at him directly in the eyes for a considerable amount of time.

 Jinyoung placed his clothes on the side before pulling on both of my arms to make me sit up straight. I groaned in protest but he silently just forced me to make my back face him.

 “What are you doing? I’ll get to work soon, OK? I just need---“

 I was cut off with when I felt his fingers working magic on the right spots on my shoulders and neck. I was silenced and let him knead my tense muscles, my head hanging and my mouth agape because it felt great that I let out a whimper accidentally.

 I heard Jinyoung laugh softly.

 “Are my hands that good?”

 Jinyoung’s tone was lower than I expected, his breath was nearer on my neck than it was supposed to be, and the slightest brush of his lips on my already heated skin made me shudder. His hands were luring me to an almost paralyzed state especially when he slid them down my back slowly and applied the slightest pressure down my waist.

  I was already a moaning mess.

 “I have an hour,” His whisper was directly on my ear. “How about we both let loose?”

 It came as the most immoral proposal coming from the most conservative and prudish man I knew. His fingers were already under my blouse and treading up my skin to reach for my bra.

 “Jinyoung…” It came as a murmur and then a gasp when he successfully unclipped the hook with one hand.

 His lips were latched on the crook of my neck as his hands travelled around my waist and reached up to massage my breasts. I sighed audibly when I felt Jinyoung’s tongue travel up the expanse of my neck. He shifts up and nibbles at my ear.

 I let out a breathy laugh. “I told you…you need to get dressed.”

 Jinyoung hummed indifferently, now focusing on a spot on my neck which I suspect would need some concealing later on.

 I removed his hands from my body and turned to him, grabbing his hair by a hand and pulling him towards me for a searing kiss. The Jo Malone perfume he had on was so intoxicating and it drove me mad, it only made me want more of him.

 His actions were rather hesitant and I’m guessing he got too carried away and now he couldn’t turn back.

 My lips were coaxing him and he responds rather gently as if to take in every single sensation. I took the initiative to plunge my tongue into his mouth and I sensed he was taken aback by my attempt on dominance that he pushed me to the couch so he could take control. I let him while I taste his mouth and he explored mine. He bites on my tongue and just like that I surrendered to him.

 My hands were busy pulling his shirt up, making sure that touch every new skin I get to expose. He kept his body hidden to himself for the longest time and now I have the privilege to bare all of it. To my relief, Jinyoung complied easily and detached himself from my lips momentarily to remove his shirt.

 I smirked as I ran a finger down his chest where there were a few stray hairs he didn’t dare to show to anyone. He caught my hand and pinned it down before bringing his lips back on mine.

Jinyoung started undoing my buttons while he moved back down my neck. Our breaths were both getting heavier. He made me sit up so he can completely remove the garments before pressing me back down and letting his mouth roam my body.

 My back shot up when he let his tongue slide down the valley of my breasts and I squeezed his arms hard when I felt his mouth enclose on a nipple. I screamed and Jinyoung was quick to put a hand on my mouth just in case someone knocks. He continues his ministrations, the tip of his tongue flicking on my sensitive bud while he pushes his fingers into my mouth, forcing me to wrap my lips around them.

 He moves up and replaces his fingers with his mouth and immediately sucked on my lower lip establishing dominance before I could even do so. My breaths got heavier as I felt Jinyoung becoming more aggressive. His hands travelled down and squeezed my breasts making me moan out his name louder.

 Before I even had a clearer idea of what was going on, Jinyoung was suddenly on my stomach, placing open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. He was busy working on removing my skirt until I’m finally left with my last piece of clothing. He smirks in satisfaction and leans down to give me a rough kiss before he glided his hand down into my underwear to reach for my core.

 I was whimpering against his mouth, pushing his arms as if wanting him to stop but at the same time wanting him closer. I felt his finger rubbing down my slit, slow and then vigorous until I was wet enough. His tongue slithers back down to my breast at the same time he pushes a finger inside me.

 “Jinyoung!” I screamed, not being able to help it any longer.

 He shushed me by placing his lips back as he pulls his finger in and out of me. By the time he completely pulled his finger out I was breathless and I wonder if I could even take anymore of whatever he would do next.

 Jinyoung pulls on the band of my underwear down to leave me completely naked and marvels at the sight before he repositions himself and lies on his stomach.

 I caught a glimpse of his bulge through his pants but before I could even focus on it, his sinful mouth was already on the inside of my thighs, making its way up to the apex. My hands were gripping his hair tight, as he teased me, purposely avoiding where I wanted him the most. He fights my control and moves to the other side, sucking on a patch of skin that drove me even wilder.

 Jinyoung had me whining in protest and I heard a dark chuckle before I shrieked and immediately placed a hand on my mouth when he let his tongue swipe up my most sensitive spot. His mouth wasted no time on working full-on and I squirmed underneath him when the tip of his tongue hit a spot that had my hips snap up. He growled and dug his nails on my thighs to restrain me back down.

 I tried to suppress my cries but the moment Jinyoung’s tongue penetrated me, I lost it and yelled his name. He moves his head back and forth several times and I was going crazy to the point that I was thrashing on the couch. His mouth was audibly and unashamedly lapping up whatever I give him and before I was fully burnt out, he stopped and knelt back up.

 I was trying to focus with my already blurry vision only to see Jinyoung above me, running a finger over his lips consuming my remaining essence on his mouth.

 “40 minutes,” Jinyoung stated, the lust in his eyes not wavering a bit.

 I sat up and grabbed onto his belt, kneeling lower before him as I worked my mouth on his abdomen. Jinyoung throws his head back and lets out a moan when I palmed his hard on.

 “Get this hideous thing off of you.” I said as I pulled down his slacks. He laughs sarcastically but adjusted himself so he can get out of them.

 My lips were slowly gently nibbling him through his tight boxers before I ran my tongue on his obvious erection. Jinyoung’s fingers were entangled in my hair, pulling my head closer to his crotch. I listened to his silent plea and let his shaft free from restraint.

 My hands were shaking as I started to stroke him and Jinyoung must have noticed so he placed a hand on mine to steady me. He was hissing after a few pumps and his fingers were again playing with my lips.

 “Put that beautiful mouth to use,” He said and I looked up, faltering and trembling badly.

 My hand merely stays on his length, my mouth not anywhere near.

 “Do it.” He prods but I still don’t budge.

 His voice was then dangerously low and domineering. “Now.”

 I comply, tentatively opening my mouth to let him in and Jinyoung lets out a long moan. I moved my tongue in circles at the tip, getting a prelude of his taste, before engulfing him again. His grasp on my dark locks tightened as he pushed in slowly until his tip reached the back of my throat. I go with my pace as he guided my hand to stroke what my mouth couldn’t reach. Jinyoung was unyielding, trying his best not to budge but he could only hold on for so long.

  I tried to relax as he started ramming against my mouth, but then he moves faster and I groaned in disapproval, but the wavelength of my voice on his length only aroused him further. My eyes were starting to tear up a little but then Jinyoung pulled out harshly and I took the opportunity to catch my breath.

 He brings a hand to cup my chin and shoves his tongue into my mouth before letting me lie back and completely getting rid of his boxers.

 “20 minutes,” he said through ragged breaths as his knees pushed my legs wider in haste.

 Jinyoung clutches my hips and pulls me down so that my thighs were resting on his. He runs his fingers down his tongue before he pressed them against my core.

 “Still wet and ready for me,” He smirks and aligns himself.

 I bit the back of my hand when I felt Jinyoung’s length stretching me. My deep breaths resounded in the room and my body was completely flushed under him. The leather couch feels hotter against my back and is now slippery from sweat.

 Jinyoung leans in further, his arms on either side of my head as he started thrusting his hips back and forth. He gets deeper and harder with each thrust, not letting me adjust fully knowing that we are under time constraint. He swallows my screams through another burning kiss while my nails scratched down the pristine skin of his back.

 He started moving faster and I felt like my heart was going to burst out from my chest. My mind was going haywire and my body was completely under his command.

 Harder. Deeper. Faster. More. More. More.

 My hands held on the tense muscles of Jinyoung’s arms. His body was now damp with perspiration, his hair was a complete mess, and his face depicted nothing but ecstasy. I caressed his cheek and pulled him in for another kiss, locking him towards me by placing my arms around his neck.

 I gave in to total submission and I felt myself getting nearer to my climax.

 Jinyoung pulls back from the kiss and places his lips next to my ear. His voice was pure seduction as he moans my name again and again and again, chasing his end while making sure that I get mine in the process.

 I threw my head back as Jinyoung goes out of control, pounding against me while I cry in both pain and pleasure.

 “Jinyoung…” I managed to breathe out, placing a hand against his chest while my other hand was muffling my own screams.

 “Come,” Jinyoung ordered through gritted teeth. “Come for me, now.”

 As if he had full control of me ever since, my body obeyed him. My entire back arched as my walls tightened around his length and I let myself go, my body shaking violently beneath him.

 The bliss doubled as Jinyoung rides my high, his hands forming into fists on either side of my head. He goes faster and I felt like I was going to break, but suddenly he grunts and his body becomes stiff, muscles becoming just as rigid.

 It was then I felt his release hot inside me, mixing with my own. He stays still for a while before letting his weight collapse on me. I caught him with my arms and ran my hands through his already tousled hair.

 We laid there catching our breaths, not uttering a word and thinking about nothing.

 Three knocks on the door snapped both us back to reality.

 “Jinyoung, Facebook live in five.”  It was the voice of Jinyoung’s manager on the other side of the door.

 My eyes widened and I pushed Jinyoung away as hard I could. I forgot he was still inside me and I cringed when he was forced out. I grabbed a tissue from the side table and wiped up my thighs and between my legs.

 For a moment, we were both wordless, eyes never meeting and both of us were just focused on fixing ourselves trying to look as normal again as possible.

 Jinyoung’s dressing room now reeks of sex and sweat so I grabbed the dark bottle of Jo Malone and carelessly sprayed his perfume all around.

 “Hey, that’s expensive!” Jinyoung finally complains while he was in the middle of buttoning his white fitted jeans.

 “You’ll be able to afford another one!” I said as I forced his shirt down his torso before futilely fixing his hair with both of my hands.

 My thumb found its way in between my teeth as I looked at Jinyoung who’s a complete mess shaking my head in disapproval.

 “Your fans would love you no matter what look you have, right?”

 “What?” His face was void of emotion but it was slowly transitioning to apprehension.

 Another three knocks.

 “Jinyoung, get out here now!”

 I turned him around and pushed him towards the door.

 “Your concept is a ‘morning after’ look. No hair styling, no make-up, and no fancy clothes. Now go!”

 Jinyoung laughed in disbelief and then turned around and pulled on my waist to steal a deep kiss before proceeding to head out.

 --

 “You seem to have laid-back style today, Jinyoung. Would you tell us about your concept?” The interviewer inquired and Jinyoung faces the front camera of the phone.

 “The concept today is…” Jinyoung paused, shooting a look at me before finishing his sentence.

 “After sex.”

 My palm went straight to my forehead.

 Needless to say, thousands of comments were again on social media.

[la-fabrique-de-miss-red]

Bodyline l596 dress review

So, today I decided to present you a review of Bodyline l596 OP dress in green...

There aren’t many reviews about this dress, and I think it can be helpful for people who would like to order it, just as Sanakanin’s review gave me confidence to order this one. You can find her article about this dress here: http://sanakanin.tumblr.com/post/152159184237/cristina-elisa-wip-of-a-modified-bodyline-l596

This dress took about 3 weeks to arrive via registered airmail, which is quite normal. The photos were taken just after opening the package (so you can see the wrinkles on the dress).

1) Colour: the colours on the picture are accurate, they are just a bit darker in real life than on Bodyline’s website. The pink and yellow flowers match the almond green tone very well to me.

2) Print: it’s pretty precise, I really like it.

3) Sizing: The sizing from the website is rather accurate. As an indication, my bust is between 80-82 cm and my waist is 62 cm, and this dress fits me well.

4) Design / construction: this dress seems well cut to me, it falls nicely. I wouldn’t recommend it if you have broad shoulders though. There were some loose threads, and no lining (as it’s usual with Bodyline pieces). I took off the brown buttons, like Sanakanin, because I find them out of place. I also plan on taking off the sleeves to turn this OP into a jsk, it will be easier to wear and more versatile (you can wear a blouse with it that way). As you can see on the photos, there is a shirring (I don’t think it can extend much though), there is a ribbon lacing that I took off since the dress fits me as it is, a side zipper and a hidden pocket (on the right) !

5) Negative aspects: there aren’t many of them...but I need to say that, if you have a very sensitive skin and plan on wearing it without a blouse, it might be hard. The lace at the top looks good but it’s a bit scratchy. Also, if you plan on doing big modifications on this dress, note that the polyester fabric (the green one, the cream one in the center being cotton) is easily fraying.

=> Overall, I’m very happy about this purchase, especially considering that I bought it during sales. So it was really worth the price. It’s not easy to find lolita clothes in almond green, so that was a very good point too.

I will write another article once I’m done with the modifications, to show what kind of jsk it can become.

To conclude, if you like this dress design, you should definitely buy it.

[kutee-boutique-fan-blog]

Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt

Do you love it? https://kuteeboutique.com/shop/stand-flag-kneel-cross-shirt-2/

Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt

Come and stand up don’t mind the Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt they say, know that its your beauty that they envy and that will never go away. Wear the dress meant for you and be happy with its simple charm. Wolves are never deadly if they are far, here in the circle of people you can trust they can bring no harm. In our land they are hunted and made tame to do what you ask as they are chained to our morals.

Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Ladies T-Shirt

Stand Flag Kneel Cross Hoodie 2

You are part of us in any way as family and should be respected as family in our arms. You’ll be safe here when nobody understands what you’re going through in the core of your heart, ease your mind with the views and waters God made here to heal your wounds. Wild and civilized is our world of music as you deserve to be happy truly with places and people you will love as we love you Selena.

Image Sweater

I think it’s great that you’re still working, but I want you to take care of yourself! God has power to heal you, make you smile again and wake up free of all sickness, but you need to take care of yourself! I love you and Jesus too. If i can know where are you live ? Or any thing about how to find you , i will do it to stay one hour with you.

Image Ladies Tee

Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt, V-Neck, Tank-Top, Long Sleeve T-Shirt

Image V-Neck

You know every part of , why can i do for you, I s hard to me fix my house and finish melt and tired and my real work have to wait, no is easy but i glad to remember us, I cry inside because one shoot of us is a extremely gift and i feel a miles of the happiness terrestial, tanks for evething, I broke of good happiness this picture is a image of my soul on you, I pray for you totaly recover.

Image Tank-Top

I know you don’t know me but I know things. You have a new movie with Woody Allen, he sexually molested his step daughter who was only 7. When you are with him, please watch out for you and your fans. I would hate for something bad to happen. You’re gorgeous! I appreciate you telling your story and opening up to others about what you went through! A lot of women need that push and courage to get through things!

Stand Flag Kneel Cross Longsleeve 2

The people better have cleaned that dang bathroom before they allowed my soulmate to pull one pant leg up and be exposed to bacterial infection. Do not need anything but good Heath. Get away from bad things to you. Take care of yourself. Many people love you. You look so beautiful in this profile photo. A good Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross Shirt of Talent , beauty and humbleness and I hope to listen something new new song of you.

[lizzbaldini]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: PureFit Wrap Around Ruffled Bed Skirt Adjustable Elastic Fits King/Queen BEIGE.

[thebeautyoftorah]

Rosh Hashana

bs'd

Shalom.

l'm very happy to announce that my newest book 'Healing Anger' just came out. A practical guide completely based on Torah sources to overcome anger and acquire real peace of mind.

This the link in Feldheim publishers

http://www.feldheim.com/healing-anger.html

If you want to buy it from me in Israel let me know.

Feel free to forward these words of Torah to any other fellow Jew. Shana Tova and Shabat Shalom.

Rosh Hashana-Resolutions for the New Year

Many people before Rosh Hashanah and especially during the ten-day period until Yom Kippur do teshuvah, and we promise G-d that we will make positive changes in our lives in the hope of meriting a good year, yet pretty soon after we hear that shofar blast at the end of Yom Kippur, we are already back to our old ways.

This sad reality is reflected in a verse that we read only a few weeks ago in Parsha Ekev. There, the Torah states that the “eyes of G-d” are always upon the Land of Israel “me’reshit hashanah, from the beginning of the year, ad acharit shanah, until year’s end” (see Devarim 11:12). The verse speaks of the beginning of “the year until year’s end”; it does not say to the end of the year.

The Satmar Rav, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum ZT”L, points out this glaring lack of parallel structure in the verse, and offers a homiletical interpretation: Commonly, people approach Rosh Hashanah with a powerful resolve to improve themselves and stop their negative behaviors once and for all – and that the coming new year will be hashanah, “the” year. But as time goes on, their resolution quickly weakens, and they slide back into their old ways, so that by the time the year is over it is acharit shanah, the end of just another year.

It is no wonder then that so many of us feel that our prayers each year on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur aren’t being answered. Maybe if we were more sincere in our promises to Hashem, and our resolutions lasted longer than just till the end of Yom Kippur, we would get what we asked for. But if we just pay lip service to G-d on the High Holidays without any real intention or gameplan to actually change our ways even a little bit during the coming year, what can we really expect Hashem to do for us on his end? There is a fascinating interpretation by the famous Maggid Rabbi Yaakov Galinsky of a very strange statement made by the Gemara [1]: "It is as difficult [for G-d] to provide a livelihood for a person as it was to split the Red Sea”. Why is either of these so “difficult” for Hashem to do, and what is the parallel between them?

Rav Galinsky explains: The Midrash [2] tells us, based on a verse in Shemot 14:27, that G-d made a “condition” with the Red Sea when He created it that it would split for the Jewish people when they needed it 2448 years later. If this is so, we can ask why it was so difficult for the sea to split at the stipulated time. The answer is that the sea had agreed to split for the children of Abraham, Yitzchak and Yaacov. But by the time the Jews left Egypt and stood at the Red Sea, they looked very different than their forefathers. Over many years they spent in slavery, the Jewish people had adopted many of the idolatrous ways of their Egyptian hosts and no longer resembled their holy ancestors.

The same “difficulty”, says the Maggid, exists with regard to providing a livelihood for the Jewish people. We are taught that “all of a person’s sustenance [for the entire year] is determined for him [during the ten days] between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur” (see Betzah 16a). So a Jewish person – let’s call him Moshe - goes to the synagogue during the High Holidays, wraps himself in a tallit, and prays with intent and feeling, sincerely regretting his past misdeeds, and making promises to be better in the future – all in the hopes that in the coming year G-d will give him that extra $40,000 that he needs in order to redo his kitchen and to buy a new car. The “ministering angels” in heaven take note of both his sincere and heartfelt repentance and his special request – and they take a “snapshot” of him and write on the back of the photo “Moshe needs an additional $40,000 this year”, and they file it away with all the other New Year’s requests.

When Chanukah comes and goes and the money still hasn’t come, Moshe starts praying to G-d again, asking for his special Rosh Hashanah petition to be filled. The ministering angels quickly run over to the file cabinet and pull out Moshe’s picture. The “difficulty” with granting his request is that by now Moshe no longer resembles the guy they took a picture of on the High Holidays! Then he was wearing a tallit and praying with fervor and promising G-d everything – and taking his Judaism and his relationship with Hashem seriously – but soon after Yom Kippur ended, Moshe let it all slide and was back to the way he was before the High Holidays began!

So what can we do to make our Jewish New Year’s resolutions stick – so that even when Chanukah comes around, we will be able to say that we have kept our promises to G-d and we still resemble the way we were during the High Holidays?

I would like to share with you one profoundly simple idea from our Sages that I think can help all of us succeed with our own Rosh Hashanah resolutions this year.

The Midrash, expounding on a verse in Shir Hashirim 5:2, states that G-d lovingly tells the Jewish people: “Open for me a hole like the eye of the needle, and I will open for you [the rest] like the entranceway to a great hall”. The commentators explain that Hashem is telling us that we don’t have to do the whole job ourselves. If we want to make a teshuvah “breakthrough” and effect positive changes in our lives for the coming year, all we need to do is to make a tiny little hole – like the size of the eye of a needle – and G-d will help us take care of the rest. The one condition, however, is that the little hole that we make has to go all the way through to the other side, i.e. whatever small resolution we do take upon ourselves during the Ten Days of Repentance has to be one that we know we will definitely be able to fulfill. And when Hashem sees that we were sincere with that one small resolution - and that we actually came through on it during the year - He will “make our little hole much bigger” and help us come through with all our other challenges as well.

The basic idea is to pick one small area in our lives that needs improvement and commit to changing it during the coming year – but we need to make sure that we’ve picked something which we can virtually guarantee that we won’t fail at.

Working in our midot (character traits) is a critical and very difficult area that we all have to set realistic goals. So for example, many have anger issues. We can commit ourselves to minimizing anger episodes at home.This is one small but significant commitment we can make for Rosh Hashanah and we were able to stick to it throughout the year.

I would like to conclude with the second part of the Satmar Rav’s homiletical interpretation mentioned above:

In the Kedushah recited during the cantor’s repetition of the Mussaf prayer on Shabbat and the Holidays (according to Nusach Sefardi), we say: “He is our G-d, He is Our Father, He is Our King, He is Our Savior. He will save and redeem us a second time, and will tell us in His mercy for all to see, ‘I have redeemed you - acharit k’reshit - at the end (of time) as at the beginning, to be to you for a G-d’.” Hashem is hinting to us with these words that we will be redeemed from the current exile acharit k’reshit – i.e. when the end (of the year) is like the beginning (of the year). The time will come when we won’t just begin the year with the hope that this will be “the” year, but when we will be able to look back at the end of the year and declare proudly, “This was indeed ‘the’ year.” When that time comes, G-d will bring the ultimate redemption. May this be “the” year! Shana Tova Umetuka! ______________________________

[1] Pesachim 118a.

[2] Shemot Rabbah 21:6.

Le Iluy nishmat Eliahu ben Simcha, Mordechai ben Shlomo, Perla bat Simcha, Abraham Meir ben Leah,Moshe ben Gila,Yaakov ben Gila, Sara bat Gila, Yitzchak ben Perla, Leah bat Chavah, Abraham Meir ben Leah,Itamar Ben Reb Yehuda, Yehuda Ben Shmuel Tzvi, Tova Chaya bat Dovid. Refua Shelema of Yaacov ben Miriam, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Gila bat Tzipora, Tzipora bat Gila, Dvir ben Leah, Elimelech Dovid ben Chaya Baila, Noa bat Batsheva Devorah and Dovid Yehoshua ben Leba Malka.

Atzlacha to Shmuel ben Mazal tov and Zivug agun to Marielle Gabriela bat Gila, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Yehudit bat Malka, Elisheva bat Malka.