#im about to go to bed I’ll revisit this in the morning

[bookwyrminspiration]

slurps and burps must make BANK with anti-baby elixirs and whatnot. indefinite lifespans and most couples having one kid max if at all?? gotta be a best seller. wait maybe not these are keeper elves we’re talking about I don’t think they know what non procreative sex is

[infinites-chaser]

Librarian! PH. 52 MLQC MC / Victor :)

HELLO ANON U WERE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO RESPOND TO MY LIBRARIAN ASK GAME I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN SO LONG,,, victor is just. hard to write. aLSO I'm doubly sorry since i’ll be combining this with the Victor ask from @truth-be-told-im-lying ​ hope neither of you mind T-T i don’t think my mind could do two victor ficlets akwlfjsdkls

ANyway I love you both LOTS AND LOTS hopefully this attempt at Victor isn’t extremely out of character;;; it’s a lowkey soulmates AU if that counts for anything :> aND this fic gets the special treatment of an actual Title bc True was wonderful enough to help me by typing Victor as an Enneagram Type One

okaaay and without further ado, 

49, 52 + Victor/MC

‘[He] wakes up in [his] bed, determined to begin again.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 49)

‘As [he] pushes through the onlookers to meet [her], he is certain he is the only person moving.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 52)

((pronoun changes in both quotes to better fit the ficlet))

spoilers for Victor/MC’s childhood!

spend my whole life searching

Victor doesn’t believe in soulmates. (After half a lifetime of searching turning up nothing, he doesn’t believe in much.)

Once upon a time, he might’ve. (He wanted to). His heart rate doubled and sped up to match hers— a carefree little girl skipping across the road, too far away to hear his nerves cry danger, too caught up in dreams and fantasies to hear his warning shout. Time slowed down so he could save her, and on that afternoon on the crosswalk, drops of rain suspended in the air, he did.

At that age, he hadn’t had the sense to wonder why a young girl like her had been crossing the street without supervision. Why her smiles had come freely, but had always looked a little sad, a little wistful. Why she’d been so eager to accept his baked treats. Why she’d been at the playground without a parent. Why she’d always been alone.

Now, seventeen years later, he wishes he did. Wishes he’d known something as simple as her last name.

He dreams of her. Of finding her again: the girl whose heartbeat matched his. The girl whose smile had slowed down time itself for him, as if short moments with her could’ve each stretched into a gentle eternity. He’d wanted them to. He’d wanted to capture every moment spent with her, to make them last, to savor them, so they’d pass slow and sweet like honey on the tongue.

Time had passed slow when he’d wanted it to. Those sunlit afternoons had been sweet, they’d been happy.

Only, time is a fickle thing. When he takes his eye off it, it races away, too fast for him to keep up.

The kidnapping. The experiments. The torture.

The escape.

She saves him. He’s too slow to save her.

And even if he can stop time, here’s the thing: he can never turn the clock back.

Still, he wakes up. Every morning, he gets out of bed. Gets dressed and goes to work. The world around him moves on, and demands he does, too, even if his heart’s still eleven years old and clutching her motionless body, eleven years old, the only sound in his ears his pounding pulse, the absence of the accompaniment of hers an accusation more painful than any hateful words.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, time. It’s ironic, really, when he thinks about it. That he can stop time without lifting a finger, and yet, when it comes to things he cares about, people he loves most, he’s always eleven years old again, always too late.

(His Evol’s time control, but perhaps, all this time, he hasn’t been controlling time, it’s been controlling him. He’s imprisoned by a single moment, a memory, a regret. A past that can never be undone.)

Whenever he has spare time, he devotes himself to searching. Resigns himself to the fact he’ll probably never find her, if all he has to go off of is a child’s face, once preserved in his memory, now fading. Hair color. Eye color. Age. A name. Nothing more.

The searches turn up nothing. 

He spends late nights in the office to distract himself, builds up a capitalist kingdom of a company, if only to put off for a few hours more the prospect of returning home to face his nightmares alone.

His father praises him for LFG’s growth over dinners filled with awkward silences. The name Victor Li appears more and more often in business newspapers. Investors approach him. He gets interviews. Gets offers for TV appearances, for sponsorships.

He takes them, these material successes. Wonders if any amount of them could ever make up for the failure from his childhood. If they could bring her back. He tells himself if he finds her, when he finds her, when he brings her back, it’ll be to a more perfect world. One in which he’ll never fail her again. It’s a foolish thought, but it keeps him going. With it in mind, he proceeds to work twice as hard.

Souvenir is what saves him. A small allowance, a self-indulgence, a seed of hope planted in what he thinks is his darkest time.

It’s for her, more than any of his frantic searching ever was. A dream, a foolish one, that one day she’ll step through his memories and through the restaurant’s door, that one day they’ll share a pudding together again, their hearts beating as one.

He doesn’t get to open Souvenir often; his job doesn't let him. He made sure of that, long ago. But when he does, after the last customer’s left, and he’s put up the closed sign, he cooks for two.

(The first time, Mr. Mills had taken a single look at his silent, still face, and his expression must've spoken volumes. The older man hadn't said a word, only helped clean the kitchen after, the normally gentle lines around his mouth pulled taut in a worried frown.)

He sets the second place at the table himself: carefully places fork, knife and spoon beside lukewarm appetizers, tucks a napkin under soup bowls going cold. Watches the empty seat and the untouched meal for an eternity before finally eating his own. His technique's impeccable. It has been ever since he'd aced his culinary lessons, since he'd bought out the school. He'd used the finest ingredients. He always does.

The food still crumbles like ash in his mouth. (It always does.)

Mr. Mills will find him there, nursing a glass of wine long into the night. He knows better not to question it, but sometimes he'll pull up a chair, drink a glass, too. talk of everything and nothing, talk of his parents, his sister's family, of times gone by.

Victor will never admit it, but the older man's presence makes those nights less hard. his stories, his memories — they keep the ice in his heart from spreading any further when it feels like nothing else will.

Ten years stretch into thirteen, into fourteen, into fifteen, into a broken clock, time stopped because does the passage of time mean anything if he measures it, measured it in time with her? If she's gone?

The meals shrink. First appetizers vanish, then entrees too, until all that's left are desserts, puddings that he stares at all evening, puddings a girl had loved once, that he can almost imagine her sitting there eating, her noticing him watching her and her answering blush and smile. His smile back.

Almost, because after all these years without her, he can’t quite imagine her face. Not as she would look now. Not even as she was, seventeen years back.

(He dreams and finds he doesn’t remember what her smile looked like, exactly. Doesn’t remember the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the sound of his.

Memory is cruel. Memory is imperfect. No matter if you can stop time, no matter how hard you try to memorize a moment, when you revisit it, it’ll never be the same as when you lived it the first time.)

Then:

The day starts like any other. He wakes up, gets out of bed, gets ready for another day of work, another night of searching. He scrolls emails while waiting for his espresso machine to heat, then puts his tablet aside when the coffee's done. He eats in silence. As always, he's done five minutes before he needs to leave for the company, the perfect amount of time for him to do a last-minute check in the mirror— his tie's straight, his shirt unwrinkled, not a hair on his head out of place. The reflection that stares back at him is unchanging; these days it barely shows even the passage of time.

He sighs. Shakes the thought off like the piece of lint it is on his otherwise immaculate state of being, and heads for the door, the lock automatically clicking behind him at eight o'clock am, exactly on schedule, exactly as planned.

He's about to take a seat in his car when an inexplicable urge to walk to work takes hold of him. He pauses. Calculates and re-calculates the time it would take (fifteen minutes, not accounting for rush hour traffic making crosswalks slow), and he's about to decide it's not worth it, it's a silly thought, but the urge intensifies.

Do it, the eleven-year-old in his heart seems to be telling him. You won't regret it.

He frowns and rubs his forehead— for a moment, he wonders if all his searching, all his foolish hopes are finally getting to his brain.

He decides to take the walk, anyway.

He regrets it, not nine minutes later, when despite the sun's light shining strong through the clouds, a light rain begins to fall.

Worse still, the traffic lights haven't changed once in the past ninety seconds. He won't be late, he'd accounted for this, but he's stuck in a crowd of pedestrians, and their chatter's beginning to grate on his nerves. He's considering calling the mayor about it after exactly one hundred seconds have passed— clearly, the light's broken, this is far too long for commuters to wait— but then, finally the walk sign flicks on.

He's already across the street when it happens:

First, a phone rings.

Then, the loud honking of a car.

Tires screech.

Time slows. Time stops.

He's back on the crosswalk in a matter of heartbeats, the inattentive idiot in his arms (it's a girl, it's always a girl, hair dark, eyes wide, expression shocked).

"You..." She says, blinking up at him with those wide, almost-familiar eyes. Distantly, he registers the echo of a heartbeat overlapping with his.

"Who are you?"

Who are you? His mind asks, but deep in his heart, he already knows the answer. It can't be.

"Evolver?" He says instead, shoving down memories that threaten to surface: another rainy day, another crosswalk, another heart that had seemed matched to his. He tells himself he's being delusional, that he thinks he can hear her heartbeat because she's in his arms, wide-eyed and fragile, her heartrate skittering back and forth like a fool— this isn't like his careful, methodical searching, this is a fluke beyond flukes, it means nothing, it'll lead to nothing in the end.

But she's in his arms, warm and soft against his protective embrace, she's in his arms and it feels so right it's almost painful, his pulse pulled into a panicked pace to match hers.

He sets her down abruptly, as if burned, and turns to go.

"Someone can't come to your rescue every time."

Around them, suspended raindrops begin to fall. The world, resumed. The world, once again predictable and mundane. Except for her.

He knows, without looking back, she's staring after him, her heart, his heart, still racing.

He allows himself a smile.

He allows himself some small sliver of hope.

(His frozen time starts moving again.)

[hopelikethemoon]

Reunion Part 2 (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Reunion (Part 2) Rating: PG-13 Length: 1400 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set December 24th 1998. Part 2 of yesterday’s update. And a shorty, because I was working on my room all day. Unbeta’d because we ride like warriors.  Summary: Mitch and co. enjoy dinner with Reader and her family

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive​ @pascalesque​@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​@yespolkadotkitty​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​ @jaime1110​

The afternoon had gone smoothly. Catching up with Mitch had proven easier than you had expected it to go. He was an easy going guy, but you had still been nervous about revisiting those parts of your past. 

You and Connie helped Chucho with dinner, which proved to be a bit of a smorgasbord of different side dishes and choices. Proof of the blended nature of your families. 

“What is it that you do, Monica?” Darla questioned as she primly forked up a bite of the brussel sprouts that Connie had brought. 

“Well, I’m a student right now.” Monica answered, wiping at her mouth. “I graduate in May.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She nodded. “Have you decided what you plan on pursuing after graduation?”

“I’m considering law school.”

“She’s incredibly smart,” You boasted. “She’s got the drive, passion, and intellect to really go places.”

Javier was quick to add on after you, “She’s top of the class. She puts a hundred and twenty into every project.”

Monica rubbed at her cheeks, “Guys, come on. You’re going to make me turn into a puddle.”

Nadia nudged her, “She’s brilliant and humble. A winning combination.”

“And what are you studying?” Mitch questioned. 

“Already graduated.” Nadia explained, “I’m working at NASA. My internship transitioned into a full time job.”

“NASA?” Mitch pursed his lips approvingly. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“I’m gonna go to space!” Josie announced, shoving a piece of bread into her mouth. 

“Please don’t choke.” You chastised her gently, “I thought you were going to wrangle dinosaurs.”

“In space.” She said as she chewed.

“Mouth closed.” Javier tapped her arm to get her attention before giving her a stern look. “Manners.”

She stuck her tongue out.

Mitch laughed, “Someone’s a spitfire.”

“We have our hands full,” You shook your head, taking a swig of your beer. “And someone is going to go to bed without dessert.” You warned Josie.

“So, Tate,” Javier cleared his throat and took a swig of beer. “Still in college or thrust into the job field?”

“Fortunately, I’m done with college.” Tate offered. “I recently got hired at a big architectural firm in the city. Mostly working as a consultant on a few rehabs downtown.”

Javier nodded with interest, “I had a friend in college who went on to become a pretty successful architect. Designed a bunch of the Holiday Inns in Texas.”

“That’s a sweet gig if you can land it,” Tate agreed. “Architecture sort of fell into my lap.”

Darla coughed politely, “Tate had initially attended Syracuse.”

“That’s a big party school, isn’t it?” Nadia questioned and the face Tate made in response was answer enough. 

“We got him transferred back home sophomore year. Temple.” Darla shrugged. “The head of the architecture program’s wife is a dear friend of mine. We serve on the DAR board together. She put in a good word for Tate.”

“Fortunately,” Tate shifted in his seat nervously. “I enjoy it. I always loved building tracks and Lego models.” He shrugged. “So, uh… what do you both teach?”

“I’m not teaching yet,” You answered, as you watched Mitch converse with Chucho to his left. “But it’ll be an elective in the criminology course at UM.”

“They’ve got me teaching a handful of courses,” Javier explained. “The thing people fail to recognize is just how much government overreach and bureaucratic bull you have to put up with if you wanna go into a field like the DEA.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “It’s not for the faint of heart. I just got out myself. Starting up my own consulting business.” He shrugged. “The government doesn’t care about the people affected by the narcos. Just look at what the US did to Mexico.”

You watched Javier then, searching his expression for any signs of discomfort. You knew he despised bringing up Colombia — but these last few months had made it impossible. 

“Is Santa in Mexico?” Josie questioned.

Chucho clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I bet he is. You gonna be good the rest of the night so I don’t have to tell him to fly by?”

“I’m a good girl.”

“I know you are.” Chucho winked at her. “But you’ve gotta be good right up until the moment he shows up… and then for a whole year after he’s gone!”

“Is Sofía going to be on the good list?” She looked at her sister then. “Sissy cries a lot.”

Javier leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “I have it on good authority that both of you are on the good list. Right alongside Emily and Olivia.”

Monica dropped her voice, “I heard that even Nadia was on the good list.”

“Speaking of the good list,” Nadia gave Monica a look, “My momma’s going to be expecting us soon.”

“Oh? Are you still going?”

“Yeah,” Nadia shrugged. “She’s still a little iffy with the whole girlfriend thing, but I think she’s coming around.”

“I’m glad. Still coming over tomorrow afternoon?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Monica beamed, clearing off their dishes. “Mitch, Darla, Tate — I’ll see you tomorrow. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She looked to Chucho then. “Still need a ride to the hotel?”

“Stephen here offered to give me a ride.”

“Drive safe and have fun.” You called out as they got ready to leave. “See you in the morning.”

“You two have been awfully chatty down there,” Javier pointed out as he gestured between Chucho and Mitch. “Should I be afraid?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but… What horror stories are you telling?”

Mitch gave a good natured laugh, “We’re just commiserating on how good it is to see you both happy.”

You smiled warmly, “It’s hard to believe we’ve spent seven Christmases together.”

“More if you count the years prior,” Steve pointed out. 

“Yeah, but you were always trying to pair me off with someone.” You made a face. “Mitch, can you believe these two tried to pair me off with doctors.”

Mitch laughed, “She hated the hospital.”

“I got chickenpox.” You grimaced. “No sixteen year old should have the chickenpox.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were in love with Javier?”

You shrugged, “It all worked out in the end.” You reached around Josie to rest your hand on Javier’s shoulder. “Can you get dessert ready, while I get Sofía down?”

“Of course, baby.” Javier nodded, scooting his chair back. 

“I’ll help,” Mitch offered. 

“He’s not bad around the kitchen.” Darla assured you. 

You scooted your chair back and grabbed Sofía out of her high chair, hauling her back to the nursery. 

Sofía was quick to fall asleep, clearly worn out after an afternoon of entertaining everyone. Josie would be quick behind her — you doubted she’d make it past dessert. 

And the sooner they both went to sleep, the sooner you and Javier could put out the gifts from Santa; and drink down the milk and eat the cookies she would leave out for him too. 

Christmas was fun as a parent. 

 ——

 “The bells have been put on Josie’s door, we’ll know if she tries to escape.” Javier told you as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind him and moved to join you in bed.

You rolled over to face him, reaching out to run your hand down his arm. “Do you think she’ll like the bike?”

“She’s been dying for one.” Javier smiled, “Santa did good.” He shifted closer to you, until his lips were mere inches from yours. “What did you get me for Christmas?”

You brushed your nose against his, “You’ll have to be a good boy and wait until the morning,” You teased as you traced your fingers over his cheek. 

“I don’t know if I’ve been good.” He retorted with a smirk as he curled his hand around your hip. 

You cupped his cheek and kissed him. “You were great today. It went so well.”

“That was all you, baby.”

“It was everyone.” You kissed him softly again. “What did you think of Mitch?”

“He’s a hell of a guy. Down to earth despite…” He made a face. “Darla’s loaded, isn’t she?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean, our dad was middle class. But Darla is a whole different league.”

“Did you enjoy today!”

“It was so weird to see them again,” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I think I’m going to keep in contact with them.”

“They seem like good people.”

“And I want the girls to know their aunt and uncle. Aside from Steve and Connie. I want them to have a family… a big happy family.”

“I could get used to spending Christmas like this. A full house… a full belly.”

You poked him in the gut, “That's all your pops. He cooks the best holiday dinners.”

“Yeah, he was always good about making the holidays special. You know, we always had these big extended family get togethers around the holidays.” He shrugged. 

“They’re overwhelming, but they’re fun.” You stretched your legs, reaching one over to slot in between his. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Being mine.”

Javier missed your forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You smiled to yourself, remembering the first time he said that to you. 

That photo album had long been filled with photos of the two of you and the family you’d made together. 

[op-peccatori]

a little gift | MLQC Lucien (nsfw)

Happy Birthday, Lucien! a tad later than planned, but here’s the promised birthday sex from my invitation XD Let me know what you think!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+ 

Wordcount: 5200

Summary: It’s Lucien’s birthday and you’ve got a wonderful trip planned for him  – along with an extra gift he isn’t expecting.

Warnings: explicit sex (vaginal & anal), mild masturbation, birthday sex, sex toys, established relationship

author fact: I spent so much time sitting in one place as I wrote this that my butt too, was aching by the end of it. this is the first time I’ve ever written anything involving butts, so please let me know if it’s...right?

a/n: im gonna have to come edit this once i get some sleep. i forgot how to spell laugh. 

A bite of cake and a sip of wine, with a familiar warmth nestled into his side: Lucien is dangerously content. 

Not for the first time, he thinks he will never give this up for anything in the world. He could never let go of the little surges of happiness brought on by the girl holding a forkful of cake up to his lips, and not the deep love flowing in his veins, keeping him alive. 

The second photo album you've ever given him rests beside the cake. The second roll. A collection of your memories. 

He can’t help the way he sneaks a kiss, helpless against your smiles, the way they curve your lips up even as they’re pressed to his. It makes him shudder when he feels your tongue flick against his lip, to tempt and to taste. He’s glad for the booth they’re hidden away in, that gives them enough privacy for him to lose himself for a moment. He lets the greed slip past, eager to take whatever you give it. Before the time comes when you might not get a chance.

He suppresses the heartache at the thought. There's no telling what the future holds. Danger still lurks in shadowed corners, and it's taught him fear. Not for himself, but for the one who holds his very being in her hands.

“You had some frosting there,” you murmur when you pull away, smile coy and eyes bright, fingers tracing a gentle path along his thigh. Never stepping a foot over the line, just toying with it. He wants to step over it with you, to fall over it, to fall into bed and wherever else you can and to taste you, the sweetest dessert, his lovely girl who just wants to give him a special birthday.

And you will, once you go away tomorrow, for the weekend. He remembers the way your face fell when he told you he has important meetings he can’t skip on the day of his birthday; it was subtle, but there is nothing he can miss when it comes to you. You both had to be content with brunch for today, as he would only get home at a late hour. 

“Is it going to be a tiring day for you?” you had asked, concern hiding a hint of something he can't quite identify. It would be just like you to wait up, to give him a goodnight kiss – you do it often since you haven’t had much time to yourselves for weeks. 

“Well, no. I’ll have to sit through a few meetings, review some of my colleagues’ work, but nothing too exhausting,” he had assured you. You haven’t mentioned anything about meeting him when he comes back, but he’s always had endless patience for you and your adorable tricks. He watches you as you eat carefully measured bites of cake, eyes lingering on the way you lick your lips, satisfied with the sugar and his company. He has never felt more thankful for birthdays when you let him feed you small bites with little protest and an endearing blush. It makes him think, makes him want to test boundaries. But he refuses to risk hurting you for the sake of his depraved curiosity. The time to part ways arrives all too soon, and your smile dims a little; for a moment, he seriously considers quitting his job.

“I can barely wait till tomorrow,” you mumble, arms would tight around his waist and forehead pressed into his chest. You stand outside the restaurant, packed cake in hand, waiting for the bus after you declined his offer to drop you home. He nuzzles the crown of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, closing his eyes in the face of your affection. “I want you all to myself.” 

Your words feel warm on his skin. “Me neither, darling. And you will. What time is the flight?” 

“8 am,” you answer, and again he senses something...off. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having to get up at 6 in the morning? You're not much of an early bird unless you're coaxed out of bed by the scent of breakfast. He still remembers the first time he stayed over vividly, and not just because of how soundly he slept next to you. You had to get up earlier than usual, for a meeting, and any ideas he'd had about a chirpy morning bird were shattered by the sight of your grumpy expression. It's a memory he likes to revisit when he's feeling dull; he had slipped into unexpected laughter, and you threw a pillow at him. Then he cuddled you until all thoughts of rage-texting Victor faded.

“Want me to come wake you up?” he asks after the brief jaunt down memory lane. He doesn’t bother trying to sound innocent; they both know if he wakes you up, it’ll be with his head between your legs. No danger of a grumpy ___ then. 

“...I’d like that,” you agree readily, smiling up at him. "I'm sure I'll need it. I've been so tired these days..." There's little sign of the shy desire that usually clouds your eyes when he suggests something so improper in public, even though he keeps his voice low. He would be hurt, but instead, there’s a shiver of anticipation running along his spine as you brush your lips against his, dancing away when he leans in. "Happy Birthday, Lu."

Just what is his little butterfly up to? 

The question sits in the back of his mind throughout the day, through each file he reads and every person presenting their research. He doesn’t exactly know where you’re taking him, but he has a few guesses, as you had insisted on packing not only his warmer jackets and thicker shoes, but also his swimming trunks. His thoughts race through ideas, drifting back to last month when he accidentally saw you scrolling through a cute little lingerie website.

'Oh.'

As he flips through the photos you took such care to preserve, he thinks that it's okay that he sees through most of your surprises. It doesn't lessen the delight they bring. He's eager to see what you picked out, what could have caught your fancy, and he hopes he gets to see it tomorrow. 

It will take him some time to admit it, but he didn’t expect what he really found waiting for him in his apartment. 

You look down at your collection, of new and old, with excitement curling along your mouth and a glass of water in hand. There’s some regret, for eating cake so early in the day when you have plans, but it's not like you could have skipped Lucien's birthday cake. Or even cake in general. You resisted where you could, and you think it'll be fine. You take a moment to fantasize about the sinful dessert sitting in your refrigerator before you get to work. It's 4:00 pm, which gives you plenty of time to work, but there's much to be done. 

You're trying really hard to refrain from calling Lucien. Your boyfriend's been getting melancholic again, and you've come up with just the thing to distract him on his birthday.

You shower thoroughly, shave your legs with care, scanning them in the mirror to make sure you haven't missed a spot, applying sweet-scented lotion liberally across the skin. Painful flashbacks of the Brazilian you got for today have you wincing, but you've been determined to live up to the image you painted in your head. Willow, who'd gone to get one too, treated you to ice-cream afterwards, saying it's a must after the first one. After some deliberation, you paint your nails a pearly white and decide to take a nap before you get to blow-drying your hair.

It's 6:00 by the time you scramble out of bed, fixing yourself a light dinner and texting Lucien to make sure he's eaten.

[6:03] Lu: Don't worry. Professor Collins ordered enough for the building. I suspect he feels some guilt for calling me in today.

[6:04] Y/n: I knew there was a reason I liked him! Btw, what time do you think you'll be home?

[6:06] Lu: I'll try to make it home by 12. Don't worry, I'll get up on time ;)

Mouth pursing at the reminder of his horrendous sleeping habits, you go back to your soup with a restless heart. The clock's ticking, and you're quick to finish washing the dishes, finish some last minute packing, and when there's no chore left to do, you head for your bedroom. You connect your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, settling on an upbeat song while you plug in the hairdryer. As you divide your hair into sections, you're nearly giddy with excitement. As far as you could observe, Lucien has no idea what you've got planned, and you're quite proud to have slipped this past him.

You put the device down once each strand of hair is smooth and shiny, warm to the touch. And then you undress, until you're completely bare, running your fingers over lace, giddiness giving way to trepidation. 

You're thankful there's a video on the website because there's no way you could've put on the set by yourself. 

As you tighten the garter belts around your thighs and adjust the lace collar, peering at your reflection in the mirror as you put on simple pearl studs, you decide that it's fine that it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever worn, because you look really good. And you think Lucien will like it. Especially the very convenient holes in the cloth. 

You don’t bother to put on much makeup, keeping it simple with waterproof mascara and lip balm.

You wrap yourself in a simple robe as you hurry to the living room, picking out a pair of black handcuffs, a toy you've only used a few times, all in preparation for today, and a bottle of lube. You put them in a bag along with a towel, a pack of wet wipes and grab your phone. It's 11:30, and you have a text from Lucien saying that he'll be done soon. You put on your flats and exit your apartment quickly, letting it shut behind you as you run over to his front door, tapping in his security code with ease. Before you enter, you pull out a thick white ribbon from your bag, tying it around the handle of the door.

As you slip off your shoes, you realize it's quite strange to be in Lucien's apartment without him there. The lights are off, the curtains drawn to keep the moonlight out. In the past, he's left you dozing in his bed if he has to go to work earlier, but you've never entered the place in his absence. There's no time to ponder the peculiarities of the situation, and you head to his bedroom, your steps timid as if to avoid waking up something slumbering in the shadows.

As you open the door, you peek through the slight crack even though you know he isn't home, stepping in once you're sure it's empty and letting the door close behind you with a click. You're more than familiar with his home, but something in you shies away from invading his privacy. If he knew you were thinking this after several months of dating, he would call you a silly. And get you to stay over more often.

With a resolute nod, you move towards the bed, turning on the lamp next to it. You take out the towel first, spreading it out over his clean sheets and taking a seat on it. You pull up a pillow behind you as you lean back against the headboard, slipping your robe off and folding it, putting it in the bag. You take out your tools, spreading them out in front of you, unsure how to go about this.

The scent of him is subtle, but it's very much present. It soothes your nerves, and the thought of his reaction to your presence gives you strength as you relax your shoulders. You close your eyes, resting them and your mind for a moment, acknowledging the nervousness. Whatever he might be expecting, it's certainly not this, and you can't hold back a smile at that. 

You enjoy catching him off-guard. 

Your fingers brush lightly over the side of your neck, across your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, thinking about the way he likes to explore your skin with his mouth. As you toy with your breasts, you think about how he likes to start slow, never rushing, always taking his time to draw your pleasure out. He's the biggest tease you've ever met, and you can barely keep up with the games he likes to play, but it's always worth it – he ensures it. He likes to draw out your pleasure, to take it for himself, more and more until you beg for respite.

As you begin circling your clit lightly, you think about the time you tried to wake him up and it resulted in you positioned over him, riding his face as he devoured every drop of pleasure you had in you. How tightly he'd held on to your thighs, refusing to let you move away as he ate you out with only greed and gluttony driving his mouth. When your fingers are glistening and your cheeks are flushed, you leave it there and move to the next step. 

Sitting up, you reach for the bottle of lube, pouring it generously, making sure your index finger is coated well before you turn your focus to the entrance above your sex. You’re on your back now, the soft cotton of the pillow warm from your body heat; your knees are pushed up, your arm reaching down between them. The slight trepidation you had felt the first time, at the feel of your finger dipping into the tightness is all but gone now, leaving behind slightly shaky confidence.

This is something Lucien has wanted to try for a while, but he hasn’t been too direct about it. He’s never gone beyond sliding in a finger, usually, while he’s fucking you, and you decided introducing it on this special day would be perfect. It was a good idea to try it on your own first, to see if it's something you would like, and ease into it. Still, you know Lucien's going to be at least a little difficult about it since you've kept this from him for nearly a month.

You're liberal with the lube as you prepare yourself, adding another finger once you’ve adjusted to the first and you slide them in and out steadily, pressing where it feels pleasing. The flash of your phone distracts you, and you rise onto one elbow to see it's a text from Lucien.

[11:35] Lu: I'll be home in 30 :) 

'He's being strangely cooperative,' you think absently. Once you’ve deemed yourself ready, you pluck out a wet wipe, wiping your hands carefully before reaching for the sleek toy and the bottle of lube. You coat it thoroughly before circling the tip around your entrance, then pushing it in slightly. You try to remain patient as you slide it in slowly, being gentle with your body, letting your tight heat adjust to the plug. 

You have about ten minutes by the time you’ve pushed it in as far as it can go, it’s round ring nestled between your cheeks; you lie there for a minute, breathing heavily, your walls clenching and fluttering. But you're satisfied with the familiarity of it, confident that your idea will be executed smoothly. Your walk to the bathroom is slow, and as you wash your hands you pray he doesn’t get here before you position yourself. Hurrying back into the room, you put everything except for the lube and the handcuffs back in the bag, leaving the bottle on the side table along with your phone once you’ve switched it off, hoping that Lucien will think you're asleep, in case he calls.

And then you try to figure out how he should find you.

This, like everything else, took a lot of thought. Initially, you thought you could just lounge on your front, letting him think you're asleep. But, now is not the time to be lazy. This is the time to make your boyfriend snap and bury himself inside you so deeply he forgets everything else, if just for today. And, preferably, the next three days.

And so you crawl onto the bed, letting your head and chest rest on the firm surface, leaving your rear in the air, presented with absolutely no subtlety. You struggle a little with the handcuffs, but manage to get them on safely, without pulling any muscles. Your arms are stretched over your head, it feels ridiculous, and you’re still giggling into the sheets when you hear the front door open. 

‘The things I do for love.’

You try not to squirm when the bedroom door doesn’t fly open immediately. Knowing the man, he’s probably scanning his living room. Taking his sweet time, knowing you’re in here waiting for him. 

‘This position is very uncomfortable when Lucien’s not there to distract me,’ you muse to yourself, trying to adjust your head comfortably. As if on cue, the door opens. 

You don’t even try to look at him. It won’t be possible, and it’ll only happen when he wants it to - you’ve ensured that by leaving the key on the table. Your heartbeat quickens as you strain your ears, jolting when you hear the door shut. Your back tenses as you pick up on the subtle sounds of him breathing, of light footsteps, of cloth rustling. You wonder what he thinks of the ring standing out between your cheeks, framed by delicate lace, and hope you don’t have to wait too long to find out. 

The bed dips as he takes a seat, and your heart races like a mouse, cornered and trapped, waiting for the cat's paw to fall on it. And then he speaks.

“I have to admit, I was quite disappointed when I didn’t see you outside,” he says casually. The hoarseness in his voice belies his nonchalant attitude, as does the way he clears his throat. You can hear the smile in his tone. You’re thankful he can’t see your face because you’re certain your wide grin would look out of place right now. 

“Are you still disappointed?” Your words are nearly a whisper, hushed and eager. You know he hears them when they prompt him to plant quick kisses across the plump flesh of your rear, a finger trailing across the ring keeping your plug from slipping in. 

“Darling,” he begins, his hands sweeping over your body, feeling the flimsy cloth, tugging at the garter. His touch is delicate, not meant to arouse, but you shiver from it anyway. “I don’t think I could be further from disappointment if I tried. But…”

His hand dips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your slit. You bite back a whimper, surprised that you’re this sensitive. He seems to realise it too, pushing the slender digits in, meeting little to no resistance. Your walls squeeze down, palpitating around it, and you push back immediately. 

“...but, I think I could do with a cup of tea, first. You don’t mind, do you? It was a long day.” A kiss on the back of your head and he’s gone, walking out of the room to get his tea, whistling obnoxiously. You're left staring at pristine sheets, unable to process his abrupt departure and your absolute helplessness in the face of it.

“Lucien!” you cry out, heart beating desperately. There's no space for shame here. “Lucien, please!” There’s no response. But you didn’t expect this to be easy in the first place. “Fuck.” 

And it doesn’t get better. Lucien walks in with a cup of his favourite, steaming beverage, and just stands there at the foot of the bed, sipping it and making casual remarks like he's in a museum. 

“I have to say, you’ve done a wonderful job. Did you buy this set for today?” He toys with the lace on your waist and the straps digging into your skin, his hand sliding up your back as he walks around to stand next to the bed. He, very pointedly, doesn’t mention the new toy. 

You lift your head slightly, tilting it enough to get a good look at him before you nod.  He’s in a skintight turtleneck, slim fit pants, but the dark of his clothes can’t compare to the one in his eyes. The ribbon you left at his door lies next to you. You don't miss the slight bulge at his crotch. He smiles at the sight of your teary eyes, glaring up at him even as you tremble. 

“I guess you don’t like your surprise,” you mumble, trying to fight the pout forming on your lips. The curve of his lips fades as he blinks in surprise before sitting down next to you. 

“Sweetheart, no,” he coos, placing his empty cup on the table. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “This is...I don’t think I have the words to describe what I felt when I walked in to see you spread out for me.” 

“Was it good?” you ask softly, trying not to sound smug. You know it was good. You look like you're begging to be fucked – which you are. He chuckles at the cockiness slipping through cracks of faux sincerity. 

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he repeats. He strokes your hair gently, pulling it away from your face. “Shall I show you instead?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

He moves towards the foot of the bed until he kneels behind you, facing your ass, his warm palms a soothing balm to your starved flesh. He caresses your skin gently, squeezing it a few times before you feel his breath on your sex.  The first swipe of his tongue feels like it could ruin you, and the feeling only increases as he continues to lick into you. 

“You’ve got yourself all wet for me, haven’t you? You’re such a good girl.” The first snack of his palm against your ass is unexpected; the second stings terribly and the third painfully welcome. After the seventh one, he pauses to press his mouth to your swollen entrance again, and you’re so wet you can hear the sound of him lapping at you. “But my good girl has been keeping secrets.” 

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” you protest, arching your back further, trying to urge him to move faster. He hums against your slick flesh, his mouth enveloping your swollen clit a second later. It only takes a few sucking motions for you to come with quaking walls and limbs, sobbing in relief at the surprising show of mercy. 

“I know you did. You’ve worked so hard to give me this,” he murmurs, curling a finger around the ring resting between cheeks that flaming red. And then you cry out again when the slender object is pulled out halfway before it’s slid back in, in repetitive, curious motions. “You’re so good to me.” 

“Fuck, Lu-Lucien,” you gasp, struggling for breath. He stills at the sound of his name, a displeased sound leaving his lips. 

“While I adore the view, I do think you’re too uncomfortable like this,” he decides, reaching for the key to your freedom. A part of you suspects he just hates not being able to see your face as he makes you come. You nearly collapse once your hands are freed, and Lucien is quick to gather you in his arms and lay you out on your back.

As your arms slowly reawaken, you put them to good use, pulling him over you to press up into him, nipping at his jaw until he gives in to your silent demand and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t pull away, slipping a questing tongue through your lips, tangling a hand through your hair to keep you there as he plunders your mouth without restraint. He kisses you until you’re putty in his hands, and he whispers his affection into your ears. 

“Please fuck me, Lu,” you plead, just the way he likes it. You place his hand on your breast, arching into his touch; you're deeply aware of the extra addition in your body, pushing against your walls, keeping your feet dipped in a pool of pleasure when you want to drown in it. “Please. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” 

He inhales sharply at your words and moves away to undress slowly, letting your eyes rove across the hard planes of his torso, lean muscle flexing as he moves closer. You watch the way his cock bounces before he wraps a hand around it, giving it a few, sure pumps. He nearly succeeds in distracting you with a kiss, but you still open your mouth demandingly, widening your eyes in the way that never fails. Never one to deny you anything, he climbs over you, kneeling and bending until he can slide the tip of his plump cock into your mouth. You suck at it eagerly, swallowing more and more of him until you choke, until all you can taste is the He slides his swollen shaft out and back in, breathing heavily, groaning at the feel of your wet mouth and zealous tongue. 

You whine when he pulls away, quieting when he climbs down the length of your body to kneel between your legs. He unclasps the straps around your thighs and waist, pulling them off to toss them on the other side of the bed. After a second of consideration, he strips you of the bra as well but leaves the lace collar on. You're left completely exposed and shivering, aching with the need to feel his skin. He locks eyes with you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, pushing them up until you’re spread out, ready to be taken apart. 

“My darling girl, my heart.” His fingers curl over your breasts, tweaking and tugging, his mouth dropping down to suck at a pebbled nipple. You sigh as your fingers slither into his hair, as he rises up to press his cock to your entrance. He slides in all the way and it feels so full you could cry. “God, Lucien. I...it feels so good.” Strange, but you adjust to it. Each drag of his hips, of his skin against yours, feels like it’s setting you on fire. You scramble to catch hold of something, an anchor, before you slip; you pull him down into an urgent kiss as your hips buck up into him. 

He groans into your mouth and leans closer, swallowing your gasps; it’s unbearable, as if you’ll break, and as his thrusts speed up, you push back into him frantically, chasing after the fall, the rise, the destruction – it doesn’t elude you, he doesn’t rip it away but throws you into it instead. He leans back, reaching down for the plug and thrusting it into you, syncing its motions with that of his cock. Before you can comprehend the sudden pressure you’re coming so hard it blinds you, makes you scream, has tears pooling in your eyes.  Lucien works you through it gently, with lips quirked up at the way you babble, kissing you so, so softly your heart floods with how much you feel for this man. With a pounding heart, you watch as he reaches for the drawer, plucking out a condom and grabbing up the lube.

"Are you sure, darling?" Your response is to push your knees further until they're nearly level with your shoulders. He watches you as he lathers his cock with the liquid, using his other hand to pull your plug out. You got used to it, you realize, when it feels so empty. But he doesn't let it remain so, pressing the head of his leaking shaft against your entrance. You're treated to the full depth of his patience, as he dips in and out, getting further in with each propulsion. His eyes spark with every moan, his lips brush your mouth at every discomfited grunt. 

Once he's deep within you, in this new territory, and your head is thrown back, your mouth has fallen open at the feeling – he leans back and begins to thrust. His groans are everything you wanted to hear, and you can't help but smile up at him, unable to tear your eyes away from his bright eyes. There is no sign of the gloom, the sorrow. There's life, there's desire as he tests out all the different ways he can make you moan.

"I love you," you blurt out instead, overcome with the sudden flow of emotion. He slows as you tear up, to your immense embarrassment, and try to throw your arm over your head to cover it up. 'There was nothing sexy about that!' 

And then you nearly choke as, in one swift movement, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you up against him. He shudders, clutching you to him as you throw your arms over his shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head when he slips deeper. Your kiss is frenzied, as are his thrusts when they start anew, and then you do cry when he whispers his love, his praise against your lips, over and over again. Your nails dig into his skin, and his teeth sink into yours. You sob harder when he presses you into the bed, drilling into you like a man crazed and sliding his fingers into your throbbing sex. 

His eyes glow as he strikes where it shatters you, and you're blinded by it – completely consumed by the force of it, the way it leaves you in pieces, but even through your quaking limbs and the ringing in your ears, you feel Lucien pull out of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch him rip the condom off hastily before sliding through your oversensitive slit. He chokes out a guttural groan, clinging to you as he falters, the snapping of his hips unsteady as he comes almost violently, pumping himself into you, filling you up past what you can hold. 

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are of you two trying to catch your breath.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper, pressing a shaky kiss to his cheek. He stays curled over you, staring down at your flushed face, your hair now far from smooth and sticking to your skin. His damp bangs fall haphazardly across his forehead, his lips are kissed red and he's so beautiful you need to look away before you cry again.

His eyes are suspiciously shiny as he kisses your forehead gently. “I love you, my darling girl.” 

As he settles next to you on the bed, you turn over gingerly. You're completely spent, sore and sweaty. Still, you aim for casualness, ignoring the slight tremble in your legs. "Excited for tomorrow?"

“Very,” he answers once you’re curled up into him, and he can play with your hair to his heart's content. “I'm glad we have the whole weekend to ourselves.” 

You gasp in mock outrage. "I do have an itinerary, you know." And you’ve also opened a new door for you both. You have no doubt Lucien will be experimenting on you until he’s familiar with every inch of this new area, and the slight fear you feel is understandable. He can be quite enthusiastic when it comes to figuring out what makes you tick.

"So do I." His smirk is positively feral and you can't help but snort. 

“Think we can shower before bed?” 

“Yes, if you’d like,” he gathers you into his arms gently, then sinks back into the bedding. “...maybe in some time. Are we actually leaving in the morning?“ 

You know your smile is a tad impish when he pinches your cheek. “We’ve got an afternoon flight.” If all goes according to plan, your boyfriend's birthday weekend will have a very pleasant start – with your mouth wrapped around his cock. You just have to make sure you wake up before him.

[are-you-jungood]

Hoodie Chapter 3

Shownu X Reader

Author’s Note: 

Special thanks to @xoktie on picsart for making this amazing edit for me!! Go check her stuff out if you have the chance, she never disappoints!!

Also ya’ll can re-blog, just please don’t re-post somewhere else! If you do, at least credit me (please and thank you)! Also, I’m so sorry about this bar scene. I’m 18 so I’ve never been in one, so the description of the server/customer dynamics and norms may be a little off lmao. Other than that, enjoy!!

Brief Recap:

You were dead tired from throwing yourself into your work by the time Minhyuk started packing up to leave.

“Are you coming out drinking with us tonight?”

You were half tempted to decline because of how exhausted you were, but you figured one beer wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Sure! Who else is going?”

“Hoseok, Kihyun Yoo and Hyungwon Chae from marketing, Jooheon Lee and Changkyun Im from the Analytics department. A bunch of girls from accounting are tagging along as well.”

... You had a feeling tonight was going to be interesting, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what was going to happen next. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pulled into the parking lot of the bar. It was 8:00 pm on a Thursday, but the place was already packed. You spotted Minhyuk waving at you from the back and made your way over, skirting around the crowded dance floor in the process. 

“Look who finally made it!”

Minhyuk came over and put an arm around your shoulder sloppily, clearly already a few drinks in, and walked you to an empty seat at the table where the rest of the group was seated. As you sat down, you noticed that the pitcher on the table that was once full of beer was now being emptied into Jooheon’s glass.  You laughed and said in fake annoyance, “What, you didn’t save any of that for me?” Jooheon looked at you seriously for a second and then busted out in his best aegyo. You couldn’t help but laugh at his adorable pout. Huffing a sigh of defeat, you said, “Fine, I guess I’ll go order another pitcher for the table.” Everyone cheered at that and you left your friends, feeling like some sort of hero.

As you waited for the nice bartender to fill up your pitcher, you couldn’t help but overhear the loud conversation of the two girls sitting next to you.

“He’s so hot, right? Like, super manly hot!” 

The girl next to her leaned over and fake whispered, “Yes! He could scramble my eggs any day.”

Out of pure curiosity as to what this person would look like, you turned your head to find the poor soul that they were gawking at was actually Hyunwoo. He had just come through the door and was making his way toward your table of friends.

“Oh, God. Why is this happening? I’m not drunk enough to handle this.”

You turned back around and accepted the full pitcher of beer from the bartender. Tentatively, you made your way back to your friends and sat the pitcher on the table. Surprisingly, only Hoseok and Jooheon noticed your arrival. The rest of the group was busy peppering Hyunwoo with questions (including three girls from the accounting department who were practically throwing themselves at him).

One of the girls started giggling at something Hyunwoo said as another put a hand on his arm. Another one tossed her hair to the side and looked at him flirtatiously as she said, “So, I heard you went to X University. That’s a notorious party school, right? Were you a frat boy?”

You restrained yourself from letting out a groan at this superficial, and frankly vomit inducing, flirting.

Hyunwoo however, being a simple man, did not pick up on any of these flirtatious actions.

“Well, we were known for our partying, but it’s actually a really good school. I rushed a fraternity the summer of my sophomore year, but I found out I cared about our school’s dance club a lot more.” 

The girl who asked gave a bit of a disappointed look at hearing this and seemed to lose interest. After a stretch of silence, she got up and left with the lame excuse of needing to powder her nose. It was this point in the conversation, however, that you suddenly gained a lot more interest.

-------------------------------5 years earlier-----------------------------------

You had met Hyunwoo freshman year in your UNI100 class. You both happened to be the really quiet people sitting at the back of the class, hoping not to get called on. You never even looked twice at him until the day of your first dance club meeting. He was all shy smiles and sun kissed skin before the music started playing. He commanded the attention of the entire room the second he started moving. Each turn, glide, and hip thrust left the entire room hungry for more. When his powerful performance finally drew to a close, every single head was turned in his direction. His breathing was heavy and he was completely soaked with sweat as he made his way over to the side to sit and watch the others perform.

 You had joined the club begrudgingly at the persistent pestering of your best friends who were in it. You weren’t a good dancer like they were, so you opted for the more technical side of things and took on the job of setting up the sound system and coordinating everyone's songs as well as being everyone’s emotional support and cheerleader at competitions. When you saw Hyunwoo dance that day, it stirred something in you that you had never experienced before. He moved with such heartrendingly beautiful grace despite the amount of power and force put in his movements that you couldn’t help but be a little bit curious as to who this Hyunwoo was. 

You didn’t have the guts to talk to him after that practice, but one day in your UNI100 class he happened to forget his pencil and you were more than happy to oblige him. This got you both talking about the club, your majors, life in general, and the rest is history.

-----------------------Present--------------------------------------

Hoseok snapped in front of your face, drawing you out of your thoughts. 

“Earth to (y/n)! What’s up with you, today? You’ve been spacey since lunch.”

He scooted closer to you, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand saying, “You’re not catching a cold, are you? You know you don’t have to work so hard all of the time. It’s okay to take a break every once in a while.”

You huffed in slight annoyance at his fussing (even though you enjoyed it just a little) at swatted his hand away.

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day of revisiting things from my past that I thought I had let go of.”

Subconsciously your eyes wandered over to Hyunwoo who was sat between Minhyuk and Kihyun acting as a sort of referee for the drinking game the two were playing. Hosek, being the astute observer he was, followed where you were looking and let out a slight gasp at the connection he made.

“That’s not-”

 “Yup.”

You took a sip of your beer and stared up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that started to sting your eyes. You didn’t realize how much you had been holding in until now. Hoseok, picking up on your sudden mood change, suggested the two of you go on the dance floor and let go for a bit. You agreed with the condition you could take your beer with you,  seeing as you didn’t have a better idea. You weren’t going to let old history ruin your night, especially when you have a caring friend like Hoseok. You danced your heart out, forgetting about all of your problems for a while and threw yourself into the pulsing beat of the here and now. The night continued on, one beer turned to five, and you were stumbling over yourself and slurring your words when Hoseok and Minhyuk finally cut you off. 

“Are you good to drive Minhyuk? I’ve got room in my car if you need a ride.”

“That’s okay, I got an uber. They should be pulling up soon. See you at the office.”

Hoseok waved goodbye to him and turned to you.

“You are definitely in no shape to drive. I’m taking you home and I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick you up for work so you’re not stranded.”

All you could get out was a strangled grunt in assent as he half-dragged/half-carried you toward the door. 

You had just made it to the front of the building before a familiar voice called out to the two of you. You turned around quickly and sloppily which didn’t help everything stop spinning. You clutched at Hoseok’s arm to keep from falling over and squinted to see Hyunwoo carrying a semi-passed out Kihyun on his back.

“Do either of you know where Kihyun and Jooheon live? They’re both passed out and won’t tell me their address, so I can’t take them home. Changkyun was supposed to be their DD but he bailed to hookup with some chick.”

Hoseok sighed a little and said, “I know where those two idiots live. I would give them a ride, but that’s in the complete opposite direction from (y/n)’s apartment and she’s in no shape to drive herself, let alone be left on her own here.”

“ I can drive her. I don’t have enough room in my car to fit those two in it anyway.”

They both looked at you, assessing your condition, when finally Hoseok said, “I don’t really know if I’m comfortable with that, we just met and all and you don’t know where she lives so-”

“It’s the same apartment on Dodd street, right? Number 7?”

Hoseok blinked, trying to come up with a better reason to refuse him when you spoke up and slurred out, “Just let him take me, ‘seokie  [hiccup]. How much worse can it get? I just want to go to bed~”

Hoseok stood there for a few more seconds before he sighed and said, “Alright, fine. But only because this situation couldn’t be helped because I can’t remember both of their literal addresses. (y/n), call me when you get in so I know you’re okay.”

You nodded your head, despite it feeling like lead, and walked out with the boys to the parking lot. Hyunwoo put Kihyun down in the passenger seat and buckled him in as Hoseok did the same to Jooheon in the backseat. They were both sleeping like babies, much like you wished you were.

Hyunwoo turned and looked directly at you (the first time all night, to your recollection) and asked, “Are you ready to go? I parked over there. Do you think you’ve got it, or do you need help.” 

You moved to protest, but your legs were a lot heavier and unsteadier than you remembered, so you stumbled into him instead. He caught and steadied you before he picked you up bridal style and carried you off to his car, saying something to Hoseok about leaving. As soon as your head hit the headrest, sleep consumed you. 

You didn’t wake up when he pulled up to your building, or when he somehow managed to carry you to the door of your apartment. You did, however, wake up long enough to dig your keys out of your purse to give to Hyunwoo, but slipped immediately back into that sweet blackness shortly thereafter.

You woke the next morning to the painfully loud ringing of your alarm clock. You slammed the off button and rolled over, sighing in annoyance and pain. Getting, up you shuffled quickly to the bathroom, a wave of nausea hitting you at the smell of breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. When you finished in the bathroom, you made your way to the kitchen, shielding your eyes from the painfully bright light that seemed to be everywhere. You were just about to chastise your roomate for cooking such smelly food when you have a major hangover when you realized it wasn’t Emma but Hyunwoo who was manning the stove.

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[evenshands]

For the writer's meme: 7, 44 and 49 please? ❤️ (Fingers crossed for you to find your way back in to the groove soon)

hello u lovely wonderful angel!!! thank you sm i hope i find the groove toooooo

7) preferred time to write

honestly i dont really have one! it tends to be the evenings bc thats just when i have time but if im really inspired for something i will write on the way to work, at lunch on the way home, sometimes i’ll be drifting off to sleep and be like YO WAIT GOTTA WRITE

but probably if i really had to choose i would say last thing before bed, all my ideas seem to flow at that time and although i end up having to delete a lot bc tiredness, the tiredness also makes me not censor myself so much! which can sometimes be a great thing!

44) last line you wrote

hm ok so! this might not be the actual last line i wrote but its the furthest down on the last doc i had open so here it is

“I mean, it could be,” Isak replies. “But mostly I can find out what the dragon wants and get her to safety before your knights show up.”

i was revisiting familiar and remembering that i promised i would one day finish it (actually i was very inspired by ur current fic bc the whole princes thing i was like OH vibes and it reminded me of this fic) (also i read ur newest chapter on the bus this morning and i am just now remembering that i never went back and commented but!!!!!! it was SO GOOD)

49) can you remember the first fic you read? what was it about?

i actually can i was a baby of fourteen years old and it was a harry potter fic on ff.net about hermione using the time turner to go back in time to marauders era! it was so great damn i kinda wanna go reread but i dont remember the name, sad, but also nostalgias a bitch and it was probably not as good as my remembery

thank you again for sending this ur so lovely!!!

[nocancer]

Tryna by Cancer moon

Before Young T went to bed he poured a glass of water and looked out the kitchen window to his backyard and noted how the snow made 3:00 A.M. look like 6:00 P.M.. Only difference being that if he stepped outside with his glass of water to the seeming twilight he wouldn’t be able to hear the rush-hour traffic like he usually could if it was Friday and 6:00 P.M.. Young T didn’t bother going outside because the snow was still falling a little and it’d be there when he woke up. And the neighborhood would still be silent, as it always was.

Young T woke up and his fan was still humming its white noise which he needed to sleep at night even though it was January and his dad was reluctant to leave the heat on over night. The small fan sat on his dresser and was pointed away from his bed towards his window which emitted a sharper and more blinding afternoon light than what he was used to. He checked his phone for the time, it was about noon - about the time where his parents bedroom door would open and their TV would blast the local news and his persian cat, Jo Jo, would meow at his door from which would force him out of bed to open the door so Jo Jo could jump up on his bed to sleep on his pillow from which he would either start his day or keep doing nothing. This time he laid back down, idly on his bed, with the covers pulled over his head to lessen the effects of his slight cat allergy. Jo Jo had a flat face and was grey and fat, and he occupied the entire pillow. Young T thought of how he wanted to trade lives with Jo Jo.

Young T couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he looked at his phone. He bireifly looked at worldstarhiphop, Twitter, then Instagram.

Then he went to bed with a head ache and woke up in college.

9/27/17 wednesday

Tycho: excuse me, hey, getting along just fine, I see? Yolandra: hey, and yeah, sort of, just studying, whats going on with you T: Nothing, the usual, i guess, being responsible, trying not to offend anyone. Y: Oh but you're so innocent. If anyone's offended its on them, not you. T: But my presence alone, I dont know, like I'm out of place or something. And I just want to tell people,  Yeah, so, I know how strange it is, me being here and all. Y: You're a free spirit amongst prisoners. That was my favorite part about getting to know you.

Tycho: After all these years, not for a second did i think you were right for me. And thats why i liked you. Cus I'm crazy. Yolandra: thats okay? what do you mean?, i want to get inside your head again. T: [pause] Most people wouldnt understand. Y: Don't be too cool for school. Im not most people. If I knew what was good for me, I'd have cut ties with you a long time ago. But im a crazy bitch too. Havent you realized? T: Yes. Youre highly psychic when it comes to "free spirits" like me - and you, though maybe, "lost soul" would be a better term for me. Though I dont mind being lost. It keeps things interesting.   Anyway, you should spend your energy on solving world hunger than worrying about me. Y: dont be so difficult. catching vibes isnt easy you know? coming for your type. Who knows, maybe youre worth it. Tycho: well, your the first to try me like this. im mysterious for a reason. Yolandra: And do you know why exactly? T: Thats for me to decide. Y: It's so damn frustrating. But I guess some things are better left unsaid. T: Most people wouldnt understand that, what youre saying. Indescribable feelings we know happened but fall short in explaining. That sort of thing. Y: I call those. "You had to be there" moments. Tycho: Honestly i never gave up on you, only myself, thinking you were different from my dream girl.   it took months for me to realize that but when i did the only thing i wanted to do was forget i ever met you. Yolandra: than what? T: the rest of these simple people that surround us, they see in a way thats opposite of what i am. Y: how convenient it must be. to blame your problems on people you dont even know. and just say "fuck it." I envy you. T: just my luck haha. of being born into myself, my personality forgive me, i dont mean to be such a downer. thats my ego talking Y: you had to be there T: where? Y: in my memories. T: it matters that much to you? Y: if I could find you in a crowd, just to say something, anything, even if i have to scream it in your ear,  then you'd know how much it means to me. Tycho: I'll be waiting for you to say hola.

9/30/17 saturday In the midst of an obnoxious trap beat I remember what my grandpa used to tell me. It's the harsh realities of life that stick with us the most. A dream is only a dream until you make it come true. Never hit a women no exceptions." He would say to a 7 year old me. Now I wish I had the balls back then to tell him that his strict army ass probably never had a dream that went beyond what he already knew. Like revisiting the same shitty cloud of meaningless thoughts every night till you reincarnate into someone who revisits a slightly less shitty cloud over and over until they become someone like me, who lives on the cloud everyone strives to be, forgetting those elvish looking folks of the below who never leave the house except to get groceries. There's comes a point in life where you just gotta be honest with yourself, and say hey, i just dont match the freqeuncy anymore. It's okay. I can still pretend like that one MGMT song, but im fading away. Fuck. I get naseous and imagine a cop coming around the corner which kills my vibe for a second so I take my headphones off, spit on my finger tip, ash the blunt, and walk to my dorm. I'm in water so muddy that the surface is all I have to cling onto. What lies beneath is my past, housing the memories like demons. Of course, her face, would be in the middle. Falling more faintly in detail as I wake up sober and go to sleep high and dream nonsense that somehow doesnt go away like the usual forgotten dream you usually wouldnt give a second thought to otherwise but this morning my head feels foggy and theres a vague recollection of a search going on but I dont know what it's for and my chances of knowing diminish as I go deeper into the day. A search, it's on repeat, like my brain is an actual TV. Thats probably a normal thought to have, though I've never heard it in real words. "Is my brain a TV." I say to myself.                                                                 if you can call it that. but those take the shape of monsters of which, as if I had no choice, I find myself preparing for so when the moment really matters, I can either go down in a blaze of glory or come out on top like the badass I imagine myself to be. All I know is that I was born and now I have to live.

Maybe because my past is so glaringly depicted onto a person I refuse to acknowledge. All that shit was a dream. The only thing that matters is the present, right? Bill Nye the Science Guy would agree with that. Back in elementary whenever we had a sub for the day, a cart would roll in and thats how you knew. I watched his show in elementary school, when we had a substitute teacher. Those were the best days. I had no worries then, able to speak freely with no inhibitions as if duality had nothing to latch its mechanical claws onto. Wait, I'm thinking about the past again. And thats going way back. Fuck! Okay.. On your feet soldier! That baby momma drama dont fly out here in the real world. out here  it's the winners and the losers, haves and the have-nots,  thats the way it is.

We're here to endure anxiety. I dont care about this slave shit. I think im gonna drop out. These fucking people bro, I shouldve known better than to come here. Deep down in the recesses of my highly realized capacity for recognizing everyday objects I'm  hearing the voice my computer makes. It just so happens that I'm a little different from everyone else. I see things. Feel them. Some are expressed. Others proccessed. Though most get put away for later. These things I speak of is all they'll ever be to Some bad. Some good. But in the end I understand the root cause  is nothing and thats where I pretty much exist anyway. In between any and all things, including people. At least that what it feels like. So although I may come off as shy and maybe a bit soft to the average layperson I aint no bitch and I wont hesitate to put my body on the line to make some headway when it comes to cementing my place as a savage demon in the halls of said layperson's memory bank. Someone who is wise would recognize the virtue of my conviction It is only because I must prepare for that singular moment, an unknown point in the fabric of time and space. To where if theyre not careful, a life's worth of energy should be pitted against me as if one were to stand a chance against the power housed within my vessle. Theres no such thing as a polite gesture. Nobody asks me how my day is "going" for no other reason than to relay to me how their own special day is "going". reckoning between a humble acknowledgement that I can never truly grasp the reason for existing and therefor should play my part in keeping the peace, versus pure badass in a world of sheep. And the more I get to know my surroundings, the more I reach erradically for the inherent bliss found within the path of satanism.

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Spmewhere off in the distance, Crermoth sits on a palm tree idly sculpting astral suspensions into a tattered fervor of mesh for working the keys of ineptitude. She is oblivious to her surroundings, not caring for chatty and gossip which she cant seperate between her reality and theirs because she is sensitive and when the the fully recognized sage, Esoh, confronts her about she says she much prefers it that way.

Their balance among them. With the wind at her side, Hojihka refuses the initial preference of her stillness and moves in a nameless precession by the whim of her ancestral birth right. "aaa may-ee soo shay-noo"

Her possession wakes up without a name. a new and more elaborate transposition of jubilee onto each successive indifference. The attention to one area renders the outer confines a vacuum enveloping the excess span unto both of their liable to taken over like a plain, sole, unconscious will. It certainly does its job Crermoth and has become something of a plan b pill thats taken during one of her many unpredictable episodes of self hate and general spiritual torment. One time she told J-Money she was a demon in a matter of factness that still haunts J-Money in moments when he pretends it doesnt bother him.. Reliant upon the interaction of her world and the next. Crermoth normally prefers being to herself on nights like these, that way she can answer any calls at a moments notice. A dimension close enough so that she may assist her friends in earthly manners of which, by the natural law of limitation, those lacking the incessant nobility of the Orisha cannot be bothered to see to themselves, less the tether between her world and theirs be rendered a useless tattered fervor of mesh that gives way to any varitable knock of an over arching brood of usurpment of the mundane frequency. “I need space. I only have but so much light of see to her calling as a being of light, assisting the pieces of herself that we’re lost during the falling. You remember that don’t you?” She says “Of course I remember. But only as a matter of fact. Upon closer reflection I fail to see the relevance of a subtle hunch with no bearings in the present.”

I must know that I’m allowed to be straight up with you, else I run the risk of straying from my calling. If there’s anything I hate more than being ignored its catching myself being lazy to the voices. “She musn’t veer to far.” Esoh said on a mountain.

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The woman wakes up to look around. Store-bought soil, empty bike-rack, office building. "Harder. Think harder. Come on girl." She stands for dignity's sake. A car traces a hilltop in the distance. She raises her cold arms to the sun in defiance of stillness. Nothing is in tune with the nature of her being besides the stale wind of a coming day. "Where are you?" The car freezes as it reaches the horizon, but the sound remains on loop. Whirrrrr A portal manifests abruptly and Elegua arrives on a chariot of skulls. "Erzulie, madame, how nice it is to see you this early in the morning." A whisp of fire cleans her face and the car continues over the horizon. "It really shouldnt be, not like this. Where Im at should tell a lot you know." Erzulie said. "Quite a dense reply to a longtime friend, dont you think" "Hmm, considering how I slept in a bush last night and dont remember a thing. I shouldnt need to explain myself." "No? is the friz on your hair not matching the blood on your knees? I can't tell which." Elegua said.     Or is the attitude possessing you as if theres no consequence for ill-manneredness? I cant tell which." So long as one's not so dense up his selfish ass that he aint notice." "Oh so now all a sudden you about the finer things in life? We can switch places less you miss me. Erzulie said. Im only pointing out the obvious." Elegua said. Erzulie replied with silence, forcing life to flash before his eyes. She learned this from her Mother, Darkness. "Attitude is possessing you. I cant tell why but its a poison I dont deserve. I was only trying to help" He continued. "I just dont fuck with being called too early. So long as youre not too dense up your ass to take notice, safe to say i'm in some shit right now." "Clearly. A product of consequence." Elegua said randomly. "Yeah, recognize. Please, for me, baby?" "No more testing your patience, Goddess immortal of justice. Save that for what I came to tell you about." "Take me to cleanliness, saintly promise of wisdom. For im not feeling myself." They left the scene to the past and pondered on the pyramid they had just made with each other. "It's nice to be home." Erzulie said. Flying over the palm trees brought Elegua back to his power. "On the basis of love." Elegua said. The salt-water washed away all glimpses of doubt Erzulie had of her beauty. And she harnessed the pastels of the ocean. Thus, all guilt was abolished and unconditional love was convinced to dance within them. Drying his body under the rays of Amen reminded Elegua of his first words. Long ago, before Time was born. "O Father, you are so brilliant." "Thank you, son. I am the Light" "Then tell me, Father, if you are the Light, and are so brilliant, then why is it you flee from Darkness?" "All I do is my purpose, which seeks to balance harmony with creation. Although it is much more complicated than that. Like always I suppose. I'm afraid you ask me a question that I cannot answer. Here, because you are so curious, I will show you." "I'm ready, Father." Light grew brighter causing Elegua to cry in his recollection of what it felt like to say words. The links in his mind straining to pull in the right words. Not too plain to where the moment would be lost in happen stance, and not too radical so that his manhood could stay irrefutable (to convey meaning.) Then Light disintegrated into everything and Elegua searched for Light ever since. So Elegua went to the crossroads, and prodded Darkness for Light's wherabouts, "I want to relive the the moments before he left for eternity. Where can I find him?" Without a hug or a kiss, she told him to let go of his experience in order to live in the now, "Take his place and move forward. Grow up, your Daddy's gone cus you never did." "How could you say that me? I love you, Mom. Yet all I get is hate. Why are you hiding the truth from me?" "If I don't hate you, then who will? You got so much to learn that my heart breaks into brass. You must leave, understand me? LEAVE, before I do what your Father did and them some. I'm this close. Believe me." With nowhere else to go, Elegua obeyed the commands of his Mother. Although lonely at first, the spirits of the dead related to his despair, and offered to guide him through all the known and unknown realms of Ether, so long as he guided the spirits of the living to his Mother. So that the dead could learn for themselves the origins of their being dead. And when Light came back, they could say "Father, we know of Hate, now teach us Love." Elegua tried telling them that it was hopeless, that his Father was there, just not in the way they imagined, that they we're actually his Father and they had to realize it through an altered perception. but that negativity only made them more adament to their cause which annoyed Elegua into a manic spell of existential irony which persisted during times of war with the Snakes on 5th density. One battle in particular Badly wounded, he pulled his chariot with his arms to the middle of a corn-field on a full-moon during the Solstice, it was there he made a pact with his self, to never be ignorant to the fact that fate was an inescapable constant within all contributors to existence. That the very fabric that distinguishes the dead from the living was comprised of scattered shards of an indestructable essence that attached itself to the spirit-body via fate which is the Father of destiny. That the collective conscious is woven by the thread of Fate, thus binding a common goal, or Destiny, inherent to all beings of both polarities, thus setting in motion the spiral of gnosis, which lends itself to the spreading of keys that open the doors to helping each other fulfill each others Purpose. "I will collect the pieces of my Father so that I may speak with him again as I did as a child. I will never forget you because I love you. You are everything to me, which is all I ever could be. Please, I want to know why you flee in the face of Darkness."

____10/9/17 monday

My pace quickens as I veer away from the crowd onto the handicap stairs. I silently count my steps to give off a pensive, non-assuming vibe. Over by the quad theres crows just walking on the grass. Yet I'm the only one who seems to notice, even from a distance. The busses haul ass down Memorial St. I've learned to always be on alert because I'll never know whats waiting for me when I turn my attention off the floor and become reminded of string theory. Artificial energy, cork boards with grime on the edges, tunnel of dull ends, spongy plywood cielings. as i step with my head down and in every so sudden a demarcation in the bricks, the reptiles answer emails. This is where I'm going. Because my soul chose to live here at some point in time not too long ago considering the relationship between all that the universe has to offer and my general apathy towards said all as in any and all one. Which has become quite of a bore ever since the first week ended I had to come to terms with the reality that friends won't simply fall into my lap like they would     if I wasnt such      a masochist for being lonely. The row of pillars turn to one and all I see is the contentment in the air of the lobby. In the hallway are casually turned faces which glide about in a linear fashion like the ghost of a lost bride.. I get a side-view of the people afraid to admit that this is far from the paradise we expected it to be. The brochure in our acceptance letters didn't include the drunken nights of another dimension. I'm inside the life of an architect. One who's dead by now, but lives on through his work. I'm not going anywhere, the building would say, if it could talk. And I suppose it can. Because I just had the thought, and nothing is ever truly wrong without another thought to compare it to. But then if buildings could speak existed first, and was allowed to grow and find its place in the universe, then it'd be established enough to not warrant an adversary. But the question remains where, if it existed, was its fate organized before coming into my mind, awaiting my final judgement. Substitute me for a unicellular collective conscious and it seems like we're all dealers of fate her on planet earth of the milky way of the universe of the whatever comes next (should we ever know for sure). he or she deserves all the credit for it manifesting onto the grid of my consciousness, which is a zig zag joint's worth of a high right now. The perfect amount for not giving a fuck while still staying slick enough for witty comebacks. Which wouldn't hurt right now. This building isn't going anywhere. Though I wish it would. Because I dread what I'm about to do How he must have pained to communicate something he could call his own while maintaining a dignified and safe, always safe, because god forgive, well, you know, , putting the pen to the pad, drawing  collumns in front of a Victorian fassad Succumbing to authority just to eat with a roof over your head and not freeze your ass off like a homeless freak. Profit margins in the final half of quarter one are lower than 1 standard deviation to what is considered by corporate to be optimal. As of now, the college has no incentive to ship in product from outside sources. All inventory must be stored in house to the buyer's demand. You better not be late.

___ On the parking deck

Tycho: “I had a dream I was on an internet forum. Someone posted the words: “life is an endless hell. With a blurry picture of a street at night-time. Not much different from what’s in front of us. I thought that made sense, until I scrolled down, to see a video looking out the windshield of a vintage rolls royce, coasting along a pacific highway. And the lines kept going. Next thing you know I’m falling down a pitch black waterslide, dreading my destination. If I never woke up I have a funny feeling i know where it was leading.

Preacher: In that instance did you feel the need to repent for your sins?

Tycho: No. that didn’t cross my mind. It was too late at that point.

Miranda: “I used to.

T: What made it stop?

Miranda: Seeing all the happy people around me. And knowing that they’ve been through the same shit. Break-ups, Death in the family, just generally feeling lost.

My heart was broken ”

T: Getting over the mind can be a dark place when it has nowhere else to rest. You can train it to think anything.”

Miranda: True

Tycho: Lately Ive been taking these long drives late at night into the boonies. Just to see where I up. I realized theres so many lives I’ll never know about.

If i wasnt born into money maybe I’d be humble enough to hate myself for even thinking such a thing.

How’d you get out of that?

Miranda:

These know it all professors are getting on my nerves. I fear Im crossing into an abyss I’ll never fully understand. Honestly I can’t fuckin stand these people. What name do I have to make for myself that i haven’t already experienced in the depths of my soul?

Tyco: You know how they try to act like they all official and shit, like I won’t see past it.

Miranda: [agreement] They do that.

Tyco: [stream of consciousness] So I just told her look I know its a rule, but I’m all about learning at my own pace and no disrespect i love her but Mrs. Soso can only go so far in telling me how to write. You can give tips and tricks but at the end of the day, I’ve been developed my writing style.. Like I thought we were done with all this high school shit. Well I didnt say that.

M: And what’d she say?

Tyco: She was like “As you get further into your major 90% of your assignments will be in essay format.. we require full participation “ At this im like she gonna hit me with the book like hell nah THEN outta nowhere She said “However, I also believe in 2nd chances.”. On the outside I was cool but inside I was like “*fist bump* yo i cannot fail outta college like someone watchin out for me idk who but-

Chad: fuck that shiiiiit *holds up white rum in front of street light”

Friend in background: 12! 12! 12!

Abrupt scene change. Camera shows Tyco zoned out. Then police car, as Tyco begins to hide behind the tree hes smoking on.

My black hoodie and phone-call to my dealer will still be with me tomorrow as I do the same thing.

(From a dream 10/23)

Tyco is driving around serving with Shantel when she lights her phone up from the passenger seat and puts the phone to her ear.

Shantel: You are not finna be talkin all that mess on my phone. Be honest with                  yourself. Don’t lie. You a hoe ass bitch.

?? Caller: Why are you even calling me? I dont give a fuck.

Shantel: Wait till I pull up then and slap the shit out you. Would that be better                     sweety?

?? Caller: I’m at Kawaii’s 30 deep. Bring your lil boyfriend and see what                          happens.

Shantel: Try me bitch.

[ The economy sedan turns right on red seemingly without breaking. ]

Tyco: 30 deep huh?

Shantel: With them ratchets.

Tyco: She sounds scared as hell aint nobody sticken up for her like that. You know they gonna talk shit right but soon as we throw them hands they gon be like, I dont know that bitch.

Shantel: nah but she stupid tho like not even worth all that extra

Tyco: We’re going. Wheres that nigga house i’ll waze that shit and we get there we just pop off. Aite?

[Not looking at the road, but to her, coasting down an average 2-lane with box neon trimmed tire shops and drive-thru windows governed stately as immovable beasts of mothership stores lurk behind low-sodium trenches of the new world order’s surveillence agenda for mass poplations en masse. ]

              Just follow me. I’m walkin in and gonna start a commotion just bussin                 and you just break this bottle on her mother fuckin head and we out.

Shantel: haaah what okay

Tyco: You’re gonna fuck her shit up som serious.

Shantel: She talk shit about you.

Tyco: It’s in the stars babe for real.

Shantel: You gonna help me find that bitch?

Tyco: You my fucken queen I love you and I got you.

Neighborhood entrance.

Cars parked for miles.

House identified first glance.

Park.

Car doors..

Hip-Hop

Grass.

Walkway.

Steps.

Porch.

Door opens and yellow tops within the frame.

!! WHERE YOU AT// YALL FAKE AND CANT FINESSEE !!

AAAAAH YOU UGLY DARK SKINNED NIGROS

The caller is sitting on a couch ass to ass with other dudes. Looking stupid.

She never saw Shantel. Who came upon her like The Ring.

She has become a party magnet. It is a Slayer concert now. Nobody knows who’s who. Though Tyco is surely getting his ass beat. He catches of glimpse of Shantel’s fat ass ducking through the doorway and he could die right now and it wouldnt matter.

*GUN SHOT*

FUCK GOIN ON HERE MANE

“This not the place for you bro. - White boy comin up here in my place of business - Tryna pop shit off like you really not a bitch”

Kawaii looks up with his glock-9 extendo at his GD party mostly all gone just like that. The poor girl is still leaking.

“She need to go to the hospital.” Her friend says.

He points the glock at his head. Despair.

“Look around before I kill you.” An invitation.

Tycho: “I sold a 4 oz today after my accounting exam. I could be GD, 74, rock                            purp. whatever it be its nothing but Respect yo. Got connects with chad and Becky nahmean dog. Could put you on to some numbers they white and they fiends. Please OG.

“How much for a zip.”

“80, gas.”

“Was that yo bitch?”

“yea”

Kawaii: You lyin to me?

“No.”

“She eat your ass?”

“Yeah and bounce on my BIG ASS DICK” Tyco says with autism.

K walks away.

T: they don't even sell Molly bruh

K is you fucken high you dummies. Beat this nigga ass. *Tyco imagines the why the fuck you lyyin vine and remembers the exact moment he realized that wasnt an original song but actually a spin off of a classic throwback jam by the 90s R&B group “Next” in their hit single “Too Close”.. He was driving home from the cafe he used to write high school essays in while smoking a menthol american spirit with the windows rolled down on a spring evening playing KISS 104.1 Atlantas classic jams. Then he realized there was a full 6 minute video of the vine on youtube. After watching it he felt gayer. Thats all it did for him.

Tycho wakes up on living room floor.Terry (random G, on couch): *Hands him note× Kawaii said he's sorry. No hard feelings ya heard dog?

Tyco: I guess thugs act on impulse. *looks at note* and don't count on a gahdamn thing you bitchass motherfuckers. Tyco walks into class with a black eye. The Professor talks about interest loans. Tyco meets Moe after class in parking lot.

*Moe: Waddup

Tyco: It's lemon og I just got in.

Moe: Bet. Those last cookies you got. Bomb dude. It had them frar mother fuckers leanin like they can't handle that purp like that nahmean.*laughs*

Tyco: I got some backwoods you wanna hotbox.

Moe: Yo I'm down.

10/24/17 thursday

____ Last night I decided not to hate myself. The look I get from them doesnt bother me. Really, its a simple sign from nature that I’m used to by now. A wrong impression can sustain the fog of memory, of which I will be seen from the lens of another dimension, with not a care in the world, an angel in disguise. Thats the crux of my life up to this point. To no longer hate myself. But appear as if I still do. The nameless place in our past with no address., one of which even a frat boy can relate to. This invisible standard that’s thrown us into the pits of despair must be addressed. To seperate the real from the fake. Like the others are sleep walking through class fronting like they dont see me. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my third eye, televising scenes of sleep walkers who stay fronting like they dont see me. Walking behind the parking deck where green dumpsters were with my phone to my ear is a feeling that remains within me until I do the same thing over again in a few days. Buying in bulk never appealed to me. And if a 20 a g was the price thered be nothing my lonely ass could do. Fuck this worthless paper, I tell myself.

I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days.

I’m signalling. Though I havent been approached yet.

Figuring that would resolve the look I give other people. I mean, christ, I turned 18 last March. And spent the Summer in a last ditch effort to secure an identity before I made my plays in college. For too long I’ve avoided the call of the light and in return have gotten blank stares.

(SOMEHOW gets wrapped up into a petty conversation with sorirty girl (on top of parking deck.)

Clarissa: I was the only one alone in the entire party.

Tycho: Why didnt you leave?

T: Dont worry I dont wanna know your major.

C; Good cus it keeps changing.

T: You think you know everything dont you? This world aint nothin babe.

C: Why do you say that?

T: What do you wanna know? That I get money? Thats nothin.

Clarissa drifts off.

Hannah: So Stacy’s telling me the banners weren’t in that right place and we’re like an hour away from starting and we still haven’t even got the chairs in order and barely anyone who was suppose to be here has shown up yet.

Tycho: Where were they?

“Well for one, Candace, I dont know whats her problem lately, but shes been gone because her best-friends now telling her she’s not rushing anymore but thats honestly a relief because that girl wheres winged eyeliner and thinks shes better than us.”

Tycho: Oh, I think I’ve seen that girl at the library or something.

     I intuit that in order to justify her reasoning for not liking the winged eyeliner girl, that she channeled my very own resonant storm cloud of which I emit silently in the face of vanity..  

H: Well you’ll probably see her there a lot more cus shes definitely not with us.

“Okay so thats one.” I say as if taking notes.

“Then Rachel’s out at some charity event that I never even heard of probably with a guy she’s not telling us about which is so frustrating that of all days you pick friday night at the peak of rush to go be a hoe behind our backs.”

“Did she ever show up to the party?”

“Yeah. And she was fucking drunk.” She said as if surprised but not really because this is Rachel we’re talking about, after all.

“Like wasted orrr “

“Damn I didnt know yall got down like that.”

“Umm when youre stumbling through the door and your first words to all the new girls is hallelujah bitches!

She wasn’t with a guy.

“So tell me more about the party. Like was there”

who nobody knows anyway

is that Cheyenne is just out of it because her friends now telling her she doesnt want to rush anymore and for one its like look,

Wait, who’s hannah?

Hannah’s the leader of her sorority.

Ooooh, Okay, I see why now

-Yeah, I mean if word got around that would literally mean she was going around their backs to cover up that she was lying.

> Right. Yeah I hear what you sayin. She’s trying to make it seem as if it never concerned yall in the first place but if thats the case then she dont need to be acting like she got the right to be trusted.

This goes beyond reputation. Manipulating emotions just cus she has none of her own. Conniving biitch.  just to get her way goes beyond reputation.

Aint nobody wanna be around that energy.

> So what you tell her?

I get schizophrenic when it comes accepting new ways of being. The person I made him out to be was the perfect cure for my suffering. All those forgetful nights of boredom I knew what I needed all along, but was to scared to do it myself.

------ Frat house halloween party kidnap scene ----

GD shaman prays to shango for power to go out by mantra. Squad in car repeats the same mantra. The power goes out at 1:00 (or peak of the party).

Tycho throws blue flare through the side of the window

at the Tycho must find Chad and lure him downstairs near the door so the squad can get the keys to the room full cocaine and adderal. After looking everwhere he’s no where to be found. He walks in on a couple having with the girl in missionary with devil ears. “Yo chad that you?” Its

(fuckem x3) Music stops from power so he sneaks in wireless speaker in his robot costume  and puts it at one end of the room. Squad member 1 will carry bigger wireless speaker and set it down when he storms in. Tycho also brings a timed strobe light to distract people and keep the illusion of the party still going.

Tycho runs down stairs and towards door with chad chasing him. Squad slaps tape and mask on him and carries like a battering ram although theyve already kicked the door.

*Power turns back on*

“Fuck em, fuck em, nigga get out my section

Don’t want to see him, I don’t want to touch him

*waves zippo lighter in front of face so chad can see him through mask*

“Ima count 3 seconds and your dead on 5 if i dont get this combination” says calmly. thus saiyth the lord thy god”

“Three... No mercy”

“Two.. Shall be given unto those”

*gives code*

          “One.”

Love takes many shapes and forms.Tycho never opened up to people, hating himself for being incapable of feeling what others felt. He wanted more so he went spiritual. Which his close friends perceived as going off the deep end."Ayy whatsup bro you tryna smoke?""I have a calc exam tomorrow but I'm down after."Aight good luck on your studying tonight and then kill it tomorrow I know you got this calc is your specialty can't say the same for me but that's why you always tutored me haha."Let me know if you need more help. Figuring their was no bounds and he could be whatever, even silent, and experience irony rather than fate. How bland, he thought, to have a life plan and nothing to look forward to. Running drugs would be a necessary chain reaction. The highest elixer exceeding the bliss provided by the very weight he'd be pushing, itd be getting off on defying his own life, leaving spirit his only option. And so like a blackbird his soul seeks experience only in the clearest degree of visibility. Swerving transgressions of lonliness to levy the burdens of contrived responsibilities at societies every turn until his flight patterns veer from the trodden path to and fro the calling of reality in which he desires to preside over as a God of many statures. Untainted by works, head first into the entity of the adversary, of which he is able to predict the situational consequence in only a glimpsing moment before havoc ensues and the final hour is upon him, his loose wings coated with astral charcoal of depravity. Be caught slipping once and he loses the jump until the enevitable program takes its course - an unstoppable relationship between fate and reckoning that must be fulfilled as day turns to night. Once that happens he reverts back to being like the rest of them. Yet to the world, now desolated beyond repair, hed still be alive, exuding a calm presence that something is not quite right with him existing without remorse. The truth is simple enough, a hint just ever so slight as to never be able to cross the threshold of utterance, thus becoming rendered a convinction of self delusion on the part of the unknowing accuser, who by this time hates himself for even thinking badly of such a good guy to make peace with.  The collage curtails past the illusion of what is already known and at last the watchers take notice and thus regeneration is able to take place along all the land, allowing for new energy to take the throne of anticipation. One that has harnessed the potential to become anything the wonder puts his mind too. So what if I'm imaginative? Yolandra: I mean everyone's different in their own way. Like yeah the soroitys have a dress code and all that Starbucks and capris. But I don't know. You just have to get know a person for who they are and not how the outside world perceives them to be. T: So what'd you first think of me? Yolandra: Honestly not much anything. You were one of those people who could be anything. But then I overheard you say taurus's are gold diggers and I hated you cus I'm a taurus. T: Oh sorry I really didn't mean it like that but c'mon now I can tell you have a taste for finer things you bougie little.. Boob. *laugh\ haha "you know what I mean" It doesn't bother you? What? That so much could go wrong so quickly? Look, deep down he's telling you his heart lies with getting over and you let him because that's /just what you like about him, how deep he gets. cus he's a sad and selfish individual who was never about loving anything other than vanity. The best thing to do would be to trust his actions, intentions aren't what's important right now. Really, forget about the soul connection. Loves comes through all types of people as long as you're open to receiving them. Those energies. Don't lose yourself in the illusion. Without ever taking credit for what truly matters which should be you. Then your fashion made sense to me. T:  I'm so caught up in myself. I mean, it's impossible to know anything else. I'll never get to stand in your shoes. Its just truth. Yet I'm the bad guy. You're not like the other people I've met. T: Yeah I'm kind of loner if you couldn't tell already. I guess that's a good thing.T: Hey it's okay. I get that a lot... Wait what do you mean you guess? Ive found that who evers saying does a 180 in their normalcy.  Knowing your even here right now is a good thing. Knowing that you're with me even when im not. Don't you think? Starting out with confidence and ending strong to be lucky if I'm not hurt. Tell me what you want out of this. Sometimes I feel so lame, then I realize how fun itd be to not care. Through the window screen i see parchments and grass blades, this is an image I've sought to ignore for its blandness thinking I was over recognizing such mundane structures. The sunlight made me drunk with non verbal contemplation. I crave this heat when I'm in low spirits. And a breeze when I'm high. My thoughts are channeled from a lonely place (My thoughts come from a lonely place)  I've had no choice but to become accustomed to for my own sanity. To work faster and breach that veil of reckonning. So unreachable and enticing at the same time.T When I'm alone, welcome something more than the past if you ever cared to help me. This isn't the only world out there. And even if it was the material would eventually reach infinity. Then a black hole would open or something. Don't quote me on that, science is the hottest thing going right now. It cant hurt to butt in unofficially. As long as no one calls you on it. The universe molds to your confidence. That's another story. At the end of the day, I have too much pride to be a scientist.  The God they're serving calls for a lot of self sacrifice. A self that ignores emergency when called to speak. A self i'm not prepared to lose. "Why are you here again, nothing will change, you're gonna be quiet like last time" any handle on reality I had during the sun rise flees like an ex girlfriend into the night. I'm not prepared to lose. Anxiety is that humid feeling you get when roughnecking the time away. Jaded peripherals, internet browsing, and fading friends initiate a color spectrum so cruelly vivid in its inability to be shared with the CVS cashier who looked at you wrong because you bought 3 4oz bottles of robitussin. A man who couldnt care to see the streets, stop signs, and traffic lights. Man is a slang term we use when caught in the moment. Of which matrix programming loves to grasp onto. --- 10/25/17 wednesday So here I am enjoying a piece of lackluster nothing for the sake of something I've agreed to experience in a past life I can't even remember but somehow must make amends to as if its an actual concrete thing I can touch and make sense out of without caring to ponder how life puts us in these type situations like getting your hair done a new way and meeting a friend of a friend superficially without ever following up like aight word up bro I feel you by the way hows life and what's the special fact I should become one with in this moment while not thinking too much in to things or else id be alone as if we're not alive under the stars for any other reason than to be happy but still to me that becomes too much like a flash in time rather than something meaningful because then sex would have to be our purpose for being here but you and I both know it's more complicated than that so we look into it via memories and realize the journey was brighter than the reward as in I don't remember the actual sex part but rather the day as a whole with stained glass sprinkled in on a film reel to push the past into something real and unexplainably alluring to the self of which we projected this light onto in order to perhaps know in advance maybe how to repeat this metaphysical phenomenon for a second time because we're not quite there yet although at this rate if seems that to finally reach a state of thereness would mean we wouldn't be able to be here right now having this conversation like a building block struck from below or a house of cards we have to keep faith that every moment plays its part because we had an emotion for it and therefore couldn't be rendered to nothing in a wreckless attempt force it all together rather let each tile compliment it's neighbor and bypass the need for destruction by allowing enough caring energy to flow through that filter mechanism within you that deems lifes moments as worth remembering or forgetting and pretend you never heard about forgetting and avoid it like the plague because everything that ever was is depending on you to go forth into righteous so that gods original intention for letting go of unwanted baggage be synthesized within your vessel of upgrades intelligence so that the journey can still be appreciated only this time without th deceptive veil of the end. to question the little things that somehow don't mean much but at the same time appear to us daily as conduits for good fortune and thats what we must uphold ___ 11/2/17 thursday

I you and me playcated on a surface of stones that match our longing to search in the wrong places. Convenient are we done such a conceivable time that is time which is also time because what more can be said other than us winding down a fire escape to an inexplicable hatch sitting like paper mache on our transformative spiritual natures. Gone already but not forgotten just make sure to take the negative side of every situation involving 1 or more parties so as to make sure the rythym is in order because you can't go wrong with challenging the status quo of an area you're not suppose to be in even if that seems too easy and superficial it's the right choice because even the idea of rebellion as a bad thing must be able to project into a physical thing prompt for examination so secrets may be revealed. Wouldn't you know i stopped believing in faith due to its redundancy of chasing metaphysical strings too far out for us to put into words and isn't that the source of all our angst. Depraved of propositional phrases and elemental tables it's all so clear to me now. Casandra had a bag and Mikey had his sneakers in the forefront like a low hanging fruit but of course they had personalities that weren't so easy to see unless the hard work of interfacing came into the equation. Lets judge people based on judging for the sake of basing ourselves onto something not within our realm of reality. Perception is a hard question i think maybe inanimate objects could tell us a thing or two. Low pressure sodium lamps.Documentorial lecture hall amps failing to reach the end of the pyramid turned 90 degrees away from its focal point. May disease not reach our unexplainable selves if ever they may inhabit our temporary vessels like a friend who has no friends but you and wants desperately to get along with others but is attached to your ways. Are we in hell? What can our astral travels tell us about signaling locations with Etheric marks of time dialation. Things are what they are by defintion or they wouldn t be things however stepping the observer up a notch sets in motion cancer to grow from the singular notion that we ourselves separate on a cost of lightening our load. I am partly responsible for this mess we have made. Pulling my hair out in thin strands so as to not make a difference. Some people just don't understand what it means to be so far gone yet in a place of enchantment that lets us know we're not alone as Michael Jackson plays on the ham radio and Wikipedia says the song was written by r kelly. I'm a solitary young man, joined at the seams complacency and red-ridden vanishing points to a line of sight I'd rather not identify with if I had a choice. I'm seriously considering becoming rich and famous despite others already forcing me to. I guess eventually my spirit will give in as my soul looks from a distance and says what a fool I am then goes about his day. You can't be like the rest of them no matter how hard you try. Thinking on the sensualities you avoided after this rap shit led you no where. The palace at the height of creation where Jesus stopped and stared to collect his thoughts before he kept going when his alarm rang as his slave bending consistency tracked the new melinnia into a moldy piece of sandstone cheese the better of which tasted nutty with fruity notes and 80% abv shards of liquid glass on the throat thatd make even an immortal weep a shy tear or two. The pigs down in Mississippi feel things we can't understand in their slaughterhouse decrepit and forwarned in a musk ridden air flow that's non existent to hypocritical angels who were supposed to stop atrocity but opted to sit on their ads and play virtua tennis all day. Oink says the pig. Hee haw says the donkey. Give me life says the God and there on the 30th night fags came to tell the story on their faces. The bag lady told them to shut up and stop whining but they wouldn't listen though they lost their ability to speak. Goodness gracious me oh my great balls of fire. Great balls of ball you are the Lord of my lonely century in this dimension I took awareness to when I allowed you into my heart space.And then I left asking my self: Who is this I?

755559888a

Let’s stand for a while and think about the dastardly ways we have gone under the waters and flew away from temptation. Have us saying isnt it so pretty to be in something and have that to fall back on due to the struggles of forgetting the place we come from which didnt always have it out for us this bad in refusing us of inconjunctions we can at least point to and blame our problems on saying “See! There, I told you so. That’s why we cant find our beginning!” And we’ll keep toilling the fields as halflings saving up for a chance to leave the very universe we serve. “So thats more like it. Finally something I can get my flows on to” Shelly the alien said. “The Stars dont have to like you just because you see them. They have their place and so do we” Gerald said. “Oh but they do.” “How do you know?” “Well for one they always shine bright at the most oppurtune times, like when I’m feeling down about the part of myself that conveinently seems to escape me just when I need it most. If that be so then put me on to something else and that’ll do just fine.” “Perhaps you're not as big as you thought ”  Gerald held up his hand to salvage what was left of the dissolving psychic barrier between them. An invisible giant with an ocd issue. For now he could only listen. “No im not here to choose and thats exactly why Im not afraid to go where you can’t. Having the courage to admit your wrongs requires as much energy as universal rotation itself - a force which exists beyond our pleaidien awareness. ” “ But Shel- Okay whatever” Gerald paused and rolled the horizon through his scaly fingertips. “Keep calling on the unknown and you might get lost because it’s been there forever and sometimes Look, Shelly, no offense, you know I love you, but your awareness has no filter on what representation it can cling onto like danger isnt a reality to you. Me and Dazel always had to look out for you and thats just in this world what makes you think you can take on things you cant even see? “But do you believe in me? Anyone can say they love me. I’ve been hearing that my whole life. So much that it holds the same meaning as “um” does in conversation. Is that really the final conclusion we have at the end of the day? That you love me? Besides, I dont think you really meant that.”

“Here goes Miss Type-1 personality again. Always needing to label circles into squares, stars into gods, this as that, out of an inability to cope with insecurity. Leaving the rest of us as unwilling participants.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S WRONG IN NATURE?”  Shelly bawled.  

The beach of Temofose was out of walking distance from the orange cottage they grew up in with there Mom. When they were young it was somewhere theyd go when they had nothing else to do. Euweu Sister Beach was the brighter of the two, but now too populated for their liking. Temofose is less frequented by other families and polluted by cargo ships and a lack of open views but as they stood there a semblence of twilight through the holographic cages offered closure to the purpose of them arguing in the elements about a timeline Shelly was going to step into  And no matter what argument he could put forth, Gerald thought of it fruitless unless he spoke from his heart, a heart of which Shelly was currently taking the place of, so that he could not use it against her. “Shelly, I just hope you can understand how I dont want to let you go.” “I’m sorry you feel that way. But it’s my choice. Have a good njght Gerald. I love you” She said as she went into darkness.

Summer Break 2018

As a street light exploring strip malls, I am a linoleum tile on top of a trapezoid emitting frames of rave scenes. Heres where I find myself walking through last nights dream of the gang member selling duck pussy then getting assaulted by a pizza guy and a cop. Alone after those nights. Seems love was never meant to be expressed but felt. I look inside to see if I’m about to die, seeing diamonds mixed with sky. Materializing in the backdrop of my memories. Now I know why.

Now I know.

Then a wren on the fence manifests when it needs to. The perspective pyramid is that I pleaded for a higher calling. There’s nobody bohemian as me.  One day I’ll take this civic off the road and escape into my sacred grove. If only I wasnt such a bitch.

I carry my single briefcase through the airport parking lot. I’m hot and out of breath. Everyone watching me. I can read their thoughts but not my own. They say look at the guy who isnt me but is still conscious enough to move his vessel.

The a/c runs down to the end of the terminal, but my spirit is squared by the stores selling vain material. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my mind’s eye televises scenes too chaotic to put into words. Walking through customs is an event to be remembered, I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days. I board the flight to say finally I am my own religion. If I was flying over africa I’d see bon fires, but over Georgia I only see street lights. Thinking how absurd that they will speak of me as crazy. Others will listen. A vibration through these amber aisles to look no further than my destiny. Because everyone has their destination is the way it goes. I refuse. I’m tired of being a number. Atlanta had its place. Now I’m homeless in Tokyo. This is the not-so perfect end to the chapter planned out for me by the higher power. Not-so bad neither.

Save me. I’m on the other side now.

[justnarry]

Not Over Yet

Chapter 2 - Wales

Warnings: just a little angst! Enjoy x

"Here, take my hand." Harry reaches out to you excitedly and pulls you up the last couple of steps out into the rooftop of the Motorpoint Arena in Wales.

You and the boys arrived in Wales a day before they were going to start their European leg. It was their first show back after taking a short break in the middle of the OTRA tour.

You, Harry and Niall had spent their break together just hanging out at Niall's house back in London, going for a few holes on the golf course and the occasional drinks at your favourite pubs. They had insisted you join them when they get back on the road,

"Cmon, Y/N. Please? It's bad enough Zayn's up and left us." Niall would plead.

"Please, babe? We need our best girl out there." Harry would join in.

They didnt give you much of a choice, really. You woke up one tuesday morning with both boys on your bed at Niall's guest room, all your tickets in hand breaking down their itinerary for the next couple of months which, thanks to these cheeky boys, was now your itinerary too.

So here you were, in Wales, risking proper jail time, breaking into an arena they played at all those years back on their Up All Night Tour.

Louis and Liam were engaging in banter of how the other was "such a nagger" or "always fooled around" that day they played their show here 3 years ago. Niall was just busy laughing at his two mates. While Harry sat down cross legged beside you and nudged you on the shoulder.

You giggled a little and nudged him back. "Remember the last time we were here?" You asked.

"I do, yeah. It was January, and it was cold." He laughs "Crazy huh?"

"Crazy." You repeat. "I had to drag you all the way up those stairs just so you'd agree to be up here with me. Pussy." You tease.

"Hey! I wasn't that bad. And, you didn't drag me." He says defensively.

"Strongly suggested then? I strongly suggested you come here with me." You laugh together.

"You didn't have to, to be honest. 17 year old Harry would've probably done anything you asked him to." He says his voice trailing off, and you look at him wondering where he was getting at.

"Innocence of 17? You were very impressionable." You joke trying to change the subject a little, worried that if it got a little quieter Harry would hear your heart hammering.

He looks at you and scans your face, eyes landing on your lips for a few seconds and back on your eyes again. "Nah, just inlove." he smiles.

You feel your heart beat faster, you didn't know what to say. Harry's eyes hasn't left yours yet and you feel yourself getting lost in his beautiful emeralds just like how you did a few years ago on this very rooftop.

His eyes soften, and he smiles at you. "C'mon, let's get the others befo' we get arrested." He says as he grabs your hand.

****

"Be an asshole! Just be an asshole!"

You were all hanging out in Liam's hotel room watching Netflix while breezing through pizza boxes with cold stellas in hand and empty ones at your feet.

"Does da really work?" Niall nudges your side with quizzing look on his face.

"Hmm? Does what work?"

"Being an asshole."

"Any plans there Nialler?" Louis teases.

"Jus curious meself! Im sure you've pulled that off a couple of times, Lou" Niall quips earning himself a pizza crust flung towards him

"Oi!"

You and the rest of the boys laugh at their banter, all of you clearly somewhat intoxicated from your night's shenanigans.

"So? Does it?" Niall asks you again.

"Uh, i dont know. Try it on me and I'll tell you if it works for you." You say nonchalantly.

"What?" Niall's eyes widen a little.

"Go on Niall! I wanna see this meself, let's hear some pick up lines!" Louis eggs him on.

"Uhm" you notice Niall's eyes flick towards Harry as he scratches his head trying to look for any signs but right now Harry's eyes were planted on the bottle he was nursing between his hands. "alright, yeah! Let's do it!" He says animatedly.

Nialls stands up and turns around to walk a few steps away from where you were sitting, when he turns around he's got a playful smug look on his face. He runs his hand in his hair a couple of times and walks towards you with about as much "swag" as a leprechaun could pull off.

"Hey girl." He was mimicking the characters in the movie. "How you doing?" Ending his short pick up line with little pout on his lips.

And the room bursts into laughter.

"Oh shut up!" Niall says as he joins you guys to laugh at himself. "This was your idea!" He reaches from behind to tickle your sides as you laugh and lay on the sofa clutching your body in an effort to shield yourself from Niall.

You see Harry shift from his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you interact with Niall.

"Okay, okay!" You say sitting up. "try again."

Niall hides his face with both of his hands as he sits down beside you again.

"You lot are just messing with me now!" Niall giggles.

"Aww nooo cmon lad." Liam says encouragingly with coy smile on his face.

"He says comment on the girl's looks." You say pointing at the tv as you smile at Niall.

He removes his hands from his face and looks at you with his deep blues.

"What can i say?"

"Oh come on, im in sweats and your tshirt. Im sure there's plenty to say." You laugh.

"Well..." Niall looks at your face intently. "You look beautiful."

"Aww isn't this lad just adorable!" Louis joins in.

It was as if Niall had just realized what he said and he looks at Harry who was now looking directly at him jaw clenched and a firm grip on his stella. Harry was always intense when he had something to drink.

"Well, you're sweet bub. You've certainly got that going on for you." You say and Niall smiles back at you, looks towards Harry again and looks down at his hands nervously.

Harry scoffs, "Nah, i think he's got a little bit of an asshole in him. How's Ellie, eh Ni?"

"Harry..." Liam warns.

Harry was being petty bringing up what happened with Niall, Ellie and Ed again. But Niall just smiles at his mate, a sorry look on his face as he fiddles with his fingers. You notice Harry practically glaring at Niall now, you didn't understand why Harry was being such a prick. Niall was just being sweet, and in your alcohol clouded state you think, "Besides why does my ex get to have an opinion."

"I guess sometimes we just fall for assholes, but we learn." You add and you see Harry freeze in his seat, aware that this was probably a jab at him.

"And did you? Fall for this asshole?" Harry challenges you as he leans back in his seat taking a swig of his beer.

The room is filled with tension now and the boys just look between you and Harry all shocked at the situation that was unfolding before them.

"We all make stupid mistakes." You shrug as you drink from your bottle not wanting to add fuel to his fire.

"Right!" Louis says in a desperate attempt to calm his mates down. "how about we start on this pizza and get back to the mo-"

"Oh. So you think we were a mistake then?" Harry interjects. He seems intent not to let things go. "well i shouldn't be surprised right? I mean you were the one that left." He scoffs. "remember that?"

Your ears burn with anger and embarrassment. You and Harry never really talked about how you broke up and all the things that led to it. It was just too painful to revisit and when the time came that both of you could be in the same room again without tearing up you both decided to leave it in the past and try and salvage the friendship.

You can't believe that Harry was choosing this moment, after almost a year of being broken up, after a good few months of genuine friendship and feeling that maybe everything could be how it used to be, he decides to bring it all up now in front of all of both of your best mates.

"Yeah, you shouldn't." You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes at this point. "I mean you were the one who cheated, remember that?"

Check out next chapters here :)

[violixs]

SIX MORE WEEKS !! WAH our school dates are so different???? when does your school start again after summer mine starts in august so i assume yours starts in september or october…? AHH IM SO EXITEF TO START KOREAN BUT AT THE SME TIME I JAVE NO MOTIVATION SO FAR THIS SUMMER i’m like a starfish glued to my bed that keeps telling myself i have things to do but then the day passes and i’m like. oops. OSJSIS I GOT CALLED A ANGEL BY MAE BUT THAT IS U. so after reading your seungmim fic i’ve made a notes page with all my fav quotes from the story and i’m gonna go through all your fics and reread all of them and find lines that made me emotional or i relate to ect ect and have a whole COLLECTION OF WORDS BY MAE THAT MEAN A LOT TO ME BC U JUST HAVE A WAY WITH WORDS 💔💔 it might take a while but I AM DETERMINED . AND WHAT LITTERALLY no lie. this is SUCH A GOOD FIC ACTUALLY ONE OF MU FAVS FROM U HOW DARE IT NOT DO GOOD 😾😾😾 U ALWAYS BLOW ME AWAY WITH YOUR WRITING EVERY SINGLE TIME MAE stop the your eyes mv is making me go delulu THE WAY THE FELIX STARING I SEUNGMIN LINO FONT IM DEAD.

yes six more 🥲 i finish around the twentieth of july and go back at the beginning of september! AH KOREAN i’ve been trying to get back into the habit of it but i don’t think i’ll be too consistent until exams r over in july </3 but today i went through the silent cry lyrics because i had them up on spotify while i was listening to it and i could make out what it was saying basically but i wanted to understand it better so i have a whole load of vocab from the lyrics scribbled in my book… very fun way to learn tbh so after u learn a few grammar structures and stuff i definitely recommend <3

THE NOTES THING???i simply do not deserve u u r so ?????? WAHHHH pls only do it if u want to 😭 and if u rlly do then pls show me i am very intrigued on how other ppl view my writing… i am literally sitting w my laptop about to get onto a felix fic i started but i’ve written so many beginnings and none of them are doing it for me 🥲 i have a feeling i will revisit this one lots..

BUT YOUR EUES MV STOP. DO N IT GET ME STARYED. three minutes and thirty three seconds and i had eight different boyfriends. lee knows for some reason ???? what the fuck ???? what did he eat that morning???? because his sent me into space i was not okay mentally nor physically afterwards AND ALSO HYUNES ☹️☹️☹️ my baby he is not helping me here i am so delulu it is concerning.. and we do not. talk about felix. ajdhjs hehehe

[vocatharsis]

Cogs’ TS2 Apocalypse Run (IX)

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Earlier this year, I started revisiting The Sims 2. After a bit of messing around, I decided I’d take a shot at doing an apocalypse challenge run (specifically Phaenoh’s tiered, mod-enforced version). I didn’t succeed the first time, and didn’t document it with screenshots etc. anyhow, so in this second attempt I’ve resolved to do both. 

(Lots of screenshots & commentary below the cut. If you’re into Sims, nostalgia, challenge runs, and/or silly reflective commentary, feel free to read on!)

THE SMITHS’ FREE STATE, PART 9 - SO LONG, SHELMERDINE

Two mercifully-timed birthdays -- i bet he steals answers on homeworks too -- bidding the founder farewell -- oh goodie, some crap I can clean off the floor -- Muuuum, stop plaguing my sleep -- people in uniforms -- I imagine Foucault would be proud (or not).

Welcome back! Now, this is a sad chapter. The character I started this run with, Shelmerdine, is going to die of old age pretty soon. She’s had a fantastic go of it - managed to max all skills before elderhood, survived the terrible interval in which greyhairs had complete free will, reached perma-platinum for her aspiration. But now it’s time to bid her farewell. 

As a small mercy, she’s set to pass on the day after the two toddlers Aaron and Forseti are eligible to age up via birthday cake, so I won’t have to deal with the toddler ‘relative dies’ fear tanking both of their aspiration meters the day before they start childhood. 

First, let’s do Forseti--

He looks nice when he’s happy ^^

And I waited until morning to age Aaron up, since everyone was kind of tired at that point. 

Yippee!

Love Forseti’s little jump there. 

As I’ve established before, kids & teens aren’t currently allowed to go to school, nor use any skill-building object that isn’t also simultaneously fun. So childhood in the apocalypse is all about grabbing whatever skill points you can, with whatever objects aren’t banned. The most obvious of these is playing chess, for Logic: 

It seems that, with his really low Niceness score, Forseti is inclined to make unconvincing attempts to cheat while playing with others. Attempts of the “hey, look over there” variety, which always end with the other person turning around just as he’s moving he pieces around. I’ll need to find a way to make sure he doesn’t tank his friendships with father and/or brother while he earns his smarts.

Age-rollover time is fast approaching. It’s time to say goodbye to indomitable old Shelmerdine. 

Of course, I had to get a photo with all of her descendants in it. Then she said goodbye to each of her children individually.

*sniff*

And here comes bonesy... 

You guys remember how the death sequence for fulfilled Sims goes, right? It’s a hell of a thing. The Grim Reaper hits on you...

... tells you to pick up an unexplained suitcase (which might contain anything from what was in your Sim’s personal inventory to their emotional baggage, I dunno)...

... and hands you an extremely ethnic-looking alcoholic cup-thing.

And then you become a ghost.

BYE-BYE, SHEL, YOU WILL BE MISSED.

poor, poor Kent

Back to business; I decided on a solution to the “Forseti pissing people off during chess” problem. Basically, he plays on his own in a corner of the basement,

although I will say that this has a second benefit: Juan needs to level his Logic, too! It’s the only skill he needs maxed to be a master architect. 

Both of the careers I’m intending for Aaron and Forseti also require some Logic, but even if this weren’t the case, maxing Logic actually increases the skill-gain rate for everything that isn’t Body or Charisma by 25%, so it’s still worthwhile. 

Get a load of this guy:

Name’s Amar Ku. I was completely blindsided by this guy walking down the street, since I’ve never seen him before. Is his hair dyed, or...? Upon greeting him, he did the ‘Kiss Kiss Darling’ gesture, which means he’s a socialite; he must be Juan’s replacement, rolled randomly to fill the gap in the townie roster when he married in.

Panoptica’s got all the skill points she needs to win that final promotion, so I just have her building some other skills to fill her aspiration meter. Like Body skill!

(Note: They can’t do Yoga until they have 3 points in the skill, which means they have to level it by doing radio exercises. These are annoying because they drain Hygiene and Energy, and build the skill more slowly than pretty much any other method. im not gogna have fun)

Meanwhile, Forseti, as our first absurdly-neat descendant, gets to experience the joy of building Cleaning skill really quickly from actual cleaning, as opposed to reading books:

You can’t see it in this picture, but he’s smiling. His Fun need actually increases a little while he’s scraping crap off a toilet seat. Jeez, Forseti.

Oh, minor thing for any 90s kids and/or incidental Homestucks that might be reading this -- the household’s crappy stereo was on while Panoptica was working out, and I had it set to the ‘Techno’ station ‘cos the classic default Salsa mix was getting on my nerves, and then I hear, of all things, a no-vocals version of Chromeo’s ‘Fancy Footwork’ come on.

(I mentioned Homestuck; it was the song used in this fandom meme that I didn’t discover until after the comic had ended [*slight sniff*]. Gods, it’s catchy.)

Upon discovering said song’s presence in the game, I promptly moved the table with the stereo on it up a floor so I could hear it better. Here’s Panoptica doing her jog-on-the-spot routine.

And getting buff, apparently.

Looking good, looking good

Oh, I seem to recall saying back when Kent died that ghosts usually take a night to register that their remains have been moved elsewhere, so Shelmerdine’s debut as a ghost was unlikely to take place on the roof. 

Unfortunately, unlike Kent, she did clamber down the ladder from the attic to the floor with all the beds on it, making it really impractical to send anybody up there for some shuteye tonight. If I send them to bed, they’re guaranteed to cancel out of the action at some point, and let the ghost do its Scare action, which drops each of the victim’s needs a bit.

I realised at this point that I actually have more Sims than I do beds, so I worked out a solution to this one-night problem: buy a bed for the basement.

John starts work earlier than Panoptica, so he had priority here. Otherwise, they took it in turns to kip underground until dawn broke and Shelmerdine buggered back off to the Styx, at which point everybody who didn’t have a job collapsed into their own beds.

Well, today’s the day that Panoptica, with any luck, will get promoted up the final rung of the Intelligence ladder! There’s a chance it might take two shifts, even with an almost-full mood. Here she leaves the house in... I don’t know what kind of coat, while Forseti falls victim to my ever more ambitious experiments with the in-game camera:

(I honestly need to brush up on my vocab for types of clothing, I think. When I do write creatively, it’s quite often urban fantasy-type stuff, and it’ll help me to form a clearer picture of how characters look...)

This here below would be a great picture, if only the yellow sports car didn’t have a wonky interior that didn’t show up when you moved the camera inside

Like seriously Panoptica has a great photo face, it’s a shame

The snow actually thawed for a little while (since it’s always Winter, this only happens when it doesn’t snow for a couple of days in a row) leaving behind some puddles... which of course I sent Forseti to mop up so he could get more experience.

Night falls, and both goasts come out to play, in this rooftop graveyard of empty fridges. (I can’t sell them right now, due to restrictions - I just buy a new one and dump the old one up here.)

And does Panoptica get her final promotion? She does!

Time for some lowkey family celebrations! Here’s Aaron coming outside to give her an after-work hug:

And here’s Juan, being all romantic, though I swear he looks more like he’s just grinning rather than puckering up...

Now I can do lots of new things! Including:

> Let people come inside the house, even if they aren’t already a family friend

> Redeem Popularity aspiration perks (letting John build friendships faster)

> Use the Ask pie menu to scout out townies with good skills/jobs, and

> Chat on/answer the phone! 

This makes things much easier. Also, Panoptica’s got a snazzy uniform.

Heh, now both second-generation kids have dark green uniforms.

So, Panoptica has succeeded in living up to the name I gave her! A pleasant development. It’d have been a shame if I’d given her that name only to see her fired by a chance card or something. (I’d probably have thought about Law Enforcement for her, but that’d have required her to max Body, which would be annoooooying, at least until Juan lifts Architecture.)

So, another successful update, another restriction lifted, another gravestone for the roof... hm. I’ve covered a lot of ground here; I think two more updates maximum before I catch up to where I’m currently at with the run.

Stay tuned, and thanks for reading! 

(If you’ve read through this and/or any of my other updates, please let me know if there’s a particular style in one that’s more enjoyable to read than the others. It’s fluctuated a little as I figure out how best to do it. Thanking you in advance!)

[punkiio]

I for the ask thing, just an over all unless you want a specific character.

Like... All of them?? Hell yeah I’ll do Peter because I loVE Peter

This is going to be hella long so.... Get ready 

1: What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?Probably a very short amount of time.... He has like, a lot of energy

2 How easy is it for your character to laugh? Its hella easy to make him laugh!! He is almost always laughing and smiling... He is a very positive fella

3: How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?) Either thinking or playing his flute or pipes!!

4: How easy is it to earn their trust? Its pretty easy, especially since he is oblivious to a lot of things, including bad ones

5: How easy is it to earn their mistrust? Not sure???? Probably a little harder, but not really hard.

6: Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable? he definitely considers them flexible.

7: What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling? Probably things like jungles, treehouses, other kind of nature things... and yeah!! He likes the feeling!!

8: What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a childA LOT of things... He was a big trouble maker. Mostly was told not to do things like, something dangerous, doing/saying something too quickly, getting into fights, that sort of thing. and the thing he was told to start doing most???? Grow up

9: Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?Yeah he swears as much as the next guy tbh, but probably doesnt remember his friend swear because he has been living for so long

10: What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them? He’s actually a pretty honest guy!!! He even tells the mundies that he’s Peter Pan, but he’s actually like.... Pretending, to pretend he’s Peter Pan??? So when someone is being 100% serious when asking if he actually is, he lies and says that he isn’t. But I think the lies that actually haunt him, maybe not now, but definitely when he was still married to his wife, was that he actually still liked her and continued to stay with her

11: How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)? He would try really really hard to understand, but if he cant, then he’ll pretend to understand

12: How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach? He would ask people to get it for him, and probably make the other person feel hella awkward wile he’s just like “Thank u pal”

13: What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color? Green!! He thinks and does look best in green!!!

14: What animal do they fear most? He doesn’t fear animals that much actually??? I think the only time he would be afraid of an animal is if they’re acting aggressive towards him tbh

15: How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first? Its always. on the spot. He almost never thinks it out. The only time he thinks of it out is if he has time and if its something he’s nervous about, but even then, he usually doesn't come out the way he wanted

16: What makes their stomach turn? When people believe the rumors/lies told about his childhood, things that make him super nervous, thinking about things he has to admit sooner or later, those kind of things

17: Are they easily embarrassed? No, not really :0

18: What embarrasses them? When people talk about embarrassing things he did, especially if its in front of someone like Boy Blue. He gets awkward embarrassed

19: What is their favorite number? 18 maybe :0

20:If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?“Alrighty, so romantic love is like... When you love someone, and you like, want to date them and get married and kiss them and fuck them and whatnot. Platonic love is where you’re like, ‘DAMN! I LOVE MY FRIEND!!’ but not in the romantic way. You just like them as a friend. Familial love is, y’know, you love your parents??? Your kids???? Your siblings?????? Its close to platonic but also... not....” 

21:Why do they get up in the morning? His job. Boy Blue. 

22:How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? Depends... If he was jealous abt someone interacting with Blue, then yeah, he might be a little possessive or/and aloof, but he’ll probably just show off in front of the other person, make them feel like a third wheel

23:How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? He usually just... Tries to let it pass.... But might... just might..... become resentful..... But it would be rare

24: Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? Yeah he’s totally fine with it. I think the only time he would be uncomfortable about talking about it is with straight people. Especially straight girls. Unless its about him doing it, then its fine

25: What are their thoughts on marriage? He’s fine w it!!! He gets married himself! :0 

26: What is their preferred mode of transportation? He just... takes a car..... But in places like the farm (and if/when he goes to the homelands), he likes to fly!!! 

27: What causes them to feel dread? His friends being hurt.... He gets so scared when his friends are hurt

28: Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? Nah, he’s used to the unpleasant truth, so he would want that instead of a lie 

29: Do they usually live up to their own ideals? Sure!!! He’s got a boyfriend and a good job, he doesn’t really have any ideals past that???? He is also pretty powerful, so thats a plus 

30: Who do they most regret meeting? ProbablyMargaret

31: Who are they the most glad to have met?:All of his friends!!! 

32: Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? Probably a joke most of the time, but also sometimes has childhood stories that he had just remembered 

33: Could they be considered lazy? No!!! He is always busy doing his job!!! He is usually always doing something

34: How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? Not hard probably fndjsbkds he’ll probably just end up forgetting about it......

35: How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? He gets excited with them!!! He’s so happy they’re happy!!!!!!

36:Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? He usually waits, but if he sees a cute guy he’ll be like *eye emoji* and go flirt with him or something 

37:Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? Nah.... He actually has a kind of bad memory and easily forgets names 

38:What memory do they revisit the most often? His childhood adventures!!!

39:How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people? Pretty easy tbh

40:How sensitive are they to their own flaws?He isn’t sensitive abt them that often, pretty much the only time he is is if someone pointed them out. Other than that, he’s oblivious 

41:How do they feel about children? He loves them!!!! Pretty much the only reason he pretends, to pretend to be Peter Pan, is so when he’s cutting a kid’s hair, he can get them all happy and excited n stuff.... 

42:How badly do they want to reach their end goal? I dont think??? He really has one??? Its hard for fables to have an “end goal” because they live for so long 

43: If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? He just... Tells them he only likes men..... He’s gay..... (I wont explain his backstory on it rn because.... spoilers....)

Questions for the creator!!

A) Why are you excited about this character?He just... Makes me and others(????) happy!! Some of my friends can relate to him n stuff and that gets me excited 

B) What inspired you to create them?I had always wanted to make a Fables oc that was Peter Pan, so I did!! Peter Pan is like..... one of my favorite fables......

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?Nah, not really :00 

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?He has changed a little, but not much!!! Though his first concept art is.... Ugly.....

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?Yeah I think I would get along w him..... We got a lot in common in a way 

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?I am.... So happy.............. When thinking about him........

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?Idk if this is what this means but uhh.... He was born a human, yeah???? But when/after he was raised by fairies, he’s half fairy???? Im thinking that the fairies like.... Changed him...... idk 

H) What trait do you admire most?Is it safe to say??? All?????? I cant think of one........

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?Hell yeah I do

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?Dude we are.... Changing so much of canon Fables for our comic..... Not for him, just in general 

[wonderfulworldofwinchester]

A Girl’s Life

Sam x Reader (Fluff)

Warnings: Language 

Imagine being on your period and out of supplies, but then Sam swoops in to save the day and takes care of you.

A/N: This is the revisited or revamped version of my original fic for this request from like two years ago, as a part of my Redo Rally. 

Ugh. you roll over and look at the clock. morning already? sure enough. you could hear Sam and Dean Shuffling around and talking about possible cases. just when you went to get out of bed, that’s when you felt it. Oh no, no no no, not yet, it can be starting yet you thought. as you carefully shuffle your way to the bathroom you start mentally tracking how long its been.

you finally make it to the bathroom, and sure enough you had started. you grumble in annoyance as you reach for your supplies. you very quickly realize that you are running low but you never thought that you would only have one left. “SHIT” you holler , a little too loud because right on cue, there were footsteps you recognized as none other than the moose of a man that was Sam Winchester. Great, now you have to explain yourself.

‘Y/N, are you alright? I heard you yell “ you could hear the sound of concern in his voice and it made your heart flutter. the fact that someone could be so caring yet so intimidating at the same time was beyond you.

"ugh yes Sam im fine I just realized that I need to get some things from the store.” you sigh. the cramps had officially set in. great. now you really don’t feel like going to the store. you. washed your hands and got dressed. the moment that you walked into the kitchen you greeted by two pairs of inquisitive eyes. “what?! do I have something on my face?”

'Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this morning" came with that sarcastic tone that was signature Dean Winchester.

“Well excuse me if I don’t feel freaking amazing right now. I will be bleeding for 3-5 days all while my uterus decides to go for the world record in cramps” you all but yelled at the green eyed hunter who was now just staring in shock and disgust. you looked at Sam who just gave you that puppy dog look like he knew exactly how you felt even though he never could.

After you ate breakfast, stated that you were running to the store, that is until a giant hand covered yours when you reached for the keys. “UhUh You stay. I’ll go. Just relax” Sam whispered.

Not very long after, Sam came walking triumphantly into the bunker with several bags. “What the heck did you buy?” you laugh as he starts unpacking the bags.

He hands you your supplies and once you come back he has a big grin on his face and tells you to close your eyes and hold out your hand. You do as your told “Here, I got you this” he says and your hands are met by a cold object. As you open your eyes , you realize its your favorite ice cream.

“ Thank you Sam!” you almost  tackle him when you hug him.

Sam just smile and says “that’s not all” and shows you the mountain of snacks on the counter along with your favorite movies.

Once you had gotten the movie started, you curled up on the couch with your ice cream, and instantly snuggle closer to Sam. In a matter of minutes you weren’t even watching the movie  because you were so preoccupied by the way Sam was rubbing circles on your back. Eventually you loose yourself to sleep but just before you do you mumble “I love this life, even if its a girl’s life. Thank you Sam.”

“You’re welcome Y/N. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you”

If you want to be added to my tag list, just ask, but be sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in certain fics, i.e. Just Sam, Just Dean etc. , or if you want to be tagged in all my fics I post. 

@tillielynn16

[yovngho]

johnny + 3 please?

“You came back.” send a number + member for a drabble ☼ 

this one is an au. I hope this is okay but if you dont like it feel free to request again! mentions of blood + death

also this is so long its a damn scenario im sorry dfgddhdhg

You knew there was no stopping him. You didn’t try and you didn’t want to either. This had been his dream for so long it would have been selfish of you to hold him back. “When I come back,” he told you one night, “I’ll take you to see the world. We can rest on the beaches and walk through the most beautiful meadows we hear about in songs and stories.” His eyes would light up talking about the adventures the two of you would have outside of the kingdom. He pulled you closer to his side, rough tunic scratching your face gently as a reminder that he was still there with you. 

The day he left for battle, you had helped him dress in his armour. You had your own post to attend in the late morning which would allow you enough time to watch him and the other officers leave. He held you so close the metal detailings on his chest plate pushed into you uncomfortably, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. Youngho pulled away, eyes full of tears and hope. “I’ll be back in a month or two don’t you worry.” His hands found your face, taking the time to memorise every feature of your face. “I love you.” He reminded you.

“I love you too.” You told him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You make sure you bring yourself home. I’ll be waiting for you.” Your lips met again, desperate to savour the last few moments you may ever have together. You tried to act like this might not be the last time you see him. Like he wasn’t going into battle against one of the strongest forces on land. “Do you still have my token?”

He huffed out a laugh at that. “As If I’d ever let it off my person.” His fingers reached into his chest piece to reveal a scrap of dark fabric. It had once been part of your tunic but ripped off the night you first declared your love for one another. A token to remind him you’re always in his heart. You’d been so desperate to prove to him you’d ripped the material right off your sleeve. It perhaps wasn’t the most elegant option, but it brought a blinding smile to his face. Your body melded into his that night, solidifying the bond already formed between you two. “I keep it with me always.”

He stuffed it back into its holding as a horn echoed through the courtyard. It tugged at your heart and you knew that was it. You walked with him to his horse, putting on a brave face for him because you knew he couldn’t cry then. He kissed you again, languid as he could be in the time frame given, savouring your taste. “Stay safe, my love.” 

You scoffed at him, “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” He mounted his horse with grace before sending a smile your way.

“You have many times, my dear.” Horses started to amble in the direction of battle and you both knew had to join them. “I love you.” He said again, grasping your hand tightly. “But don’t worry, two months will fly by and you’ll be sick of my face again in no time.”

He’s declared dead a month later. A raven made it’s way back to the keep stating their army was slaughtered by the enemy. Fewer than thirty men of the five hundred sent survived to their knowledge and had begun their journey back south as they sent word. Everyone one else was declared missing, which was the word they used to ease grieving widows. Two of the soldiers who had returned from the battle were recounting the massacre that happened. Partners and children howled and screamed in heartbreak and loss for parents, spouses and lovers. You stayed still. Lower jaw shaking. Vision blurred with tears. You don’t move to wipe them. You just stand there, listening to the chaos around you and all you can picture is his smile. You picture his smile vanishing as a sword pushes into his stomach, taking the light from his eyes as blood starts to- You stop yourself. It’s not worth thinking about. 

It’s foolish, but you even months later you can’t accept the reality. You half expect him to surprise you at the mill or, maybe you’ll wake up with him beside you again. You push yourself out of bed, wiping the wetness from your face and know you have to start moving forward. The road to acceptance will be a slow and painful one, you know this. But you also know Youngho will always stay in your heart no matter what. 

It’s been six months since he left. You’re spending the day revisiting important places to you and Youngho. The market stall where you met, the stables where you’d meet at night, the lake where you’d frequently picnic. You’re at the pasture where you’d spent countless nights together looking up at the stars in each other’s arms. He was such a romantic, you remember fondly. The horses are grazing so you lean on the fence so as not to disturb them when the two children from the farmhouse come careening into view hollering loudly to their parents. 

“Quickly mum, Renjun might be with them!” You hear the youngest boy call. You knew Renjun vaguely. He was one of the youngest of the troops Youngho was deployed with. Wait… “C’mon! Let’s go greet them!” The two kids run ahead of their parents who walk cautiously behind and you decide to follow them to see what was happening. You want to ignore the tightness in your chest hoping to see your Youngho again, but in the back of your mind you can’t help but think what if. 

The gates to the city are open wide, those who were tending to their shops have stepped out to investigate and a crowd forms around the courtyard. You hear a trumpet sound and they start filing through the gates. Almost a hundred soldiers stumble through, welcomed home by the thunderous applause and cheers from the crowd. You stay off to the side, scanning the soldiers for any familiar faces. Several men were limping, being supported, or carried by their peers. A female officer burst forward from the crowd, beelining to her family to find herself enveloped in hugs. You watch the encounter with a soft smile on your face. Today was a day to celebrate. When you turn back, the gate has closed and for the briefest moment, you think you see him holding up a friend but then the crowd is clustering around the soldiers making their way to the infirmary and he’s gone again. 

You slap yourself gently to calm yourself down and decide to head to the stall earlier than expected. You worked at the food stall in the main market (which is where you had first met Youngho) with Joohyun. As you turn the corner, you see her chatting happily with a customer, their back facing you. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself to deal with people in your less than stable state. Joohyun breaks into a smile seeing you approach and the customer follows her gaze to see what she’s looking at.

You stop as your eyes meet his and you feel like the whole world is freezing and collapsing around you. There’s blood and dirt caking his face. His hair sticks to his scalp and forehead. There are bags under his eyes peeking through the grime coating his face, but his dazzling smile cuts through it all. You don’t realise you’re sobbing until he scoops you in his arms, fingers wiping away at your tears. Shaking your head in disbelief you reach up to trace the contours of his face carefully. “This isn’t real.” You tell yourself. You’ve really lost it now, imagining he’s in front of you.

“I’m here. I’m real.” He tells you, brow furrowed unsure how to comfort you. Youngho rests his forehead against yours before taking your hand. He places it over his heart. “See, I’m here.”

His heart beat hits where your hand rests on his chest and you look up into his eyes as acceptance overwhelms you. “You came back.” It’s not a question. A statement because he’s alive and he’s with you again and all the sadness that possessed you for six months disappears to the back of your mind.

He kisses you, desperate and needy like a man drowning. “I came back.”

[morganlegaye]

here’s some of my dark swan queen crap if any of you are bored or curious

also its like a chunk of the middle of the story but whateverrrr im sure ya’ll can figure out whats going on quickly enough lmao

Emma loved her. She had known even then that she loved her; she had probably loved her for a long time, but hadn’t been able to see it because they weren’t ‘supposed’ to be one another’s Happy Endings. And it was exhilarating and awful all at once to realize that, because she still loved Killian. Regina still loved Robin. They weren’t going to leave them, because that would be foolish; giving up their predestined happiness was foolish and yet they couldn’t stay away.

And they had tried after that.

Emma knew that she was being selfish though; springing this on Regina now. She had assumed herself a lost cause and after what she had done, she owed it to Killian to, well… not betray him by continuing to fuck Regina, for a start. But he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore, used loved in a past tense in a way that Emma knew would devastate her if she could truly feel it because she knew she didn’t deserve his love anyhow, and now all she wanted was to fix it and maybe become a good person again so she wouldn’t stop destroying everything that she touched. If she could just focus, if she could just get the Darkness out of them both then maybe it’d make up for the fact that she was in love with another person.

Maybe if she could save him, then it would wipe the slate clean and she’d be absolved of her guilt. It was a futile hope, but it was all that Emma had anymore.

But focusing meant being with Regina again, because that was the only way Emma was ever clear-headed. It was the only way her emotions felt real and not something she fabricated to try to convince herself that she was still human. Maybe she didn’t need her in a sexual way, but if Regina rewarded her with affection Emma knew it would go down that road anyhow. She couldn’t be touched by Regina now without wanting something more, without feeling something more. But how was it fair of her, to put Regina in this position again? Regina hated herself for what she was doing to Robin; Emma could see it in her eyes every time that she looked at him. Yet she still came to her, still conditioned her to obey her every command, still rewarded her with kisses and care and then gave Emma back her control so she could make love to her.

Because despite Emma having asked her to, as something about a sexually dominant Regina turned her on like nothing else did, Regina refused to control her in bed. She said they needed to keep that separate, because what they were doing was volatile and likely to come crashing down around them and Emma couldn’t lose that if it did. She still needed to be controlled. As the Dark One, she still needed that discipline, and it was too important to taint with whatever it was that they were now doing.

And God, Emma needed that right now. Needed her right now.

She had Rumple tied up downstairs and Merida tied to her damn car and everything inside of her was screaming that this was the right thing to do, that the ends justified the means, but she worried she might be being too rash and thoughtless about this in her desperation, and she couldn’t— she couldn’t screw this up. She needed to save him, because she already fucked him over one too many times before, and Emma refused to believe that, despite being the Dark One, that she was a bad person.

She did bad things, but she was… she was making up for them; she was evening the scales, because it was so much easier than making a choice that she feared either way would leave her devastated and heartbroken.

Emma knew she couldn’t lie here all day though; Regina seemed to be a lost cause, at least momentarily, and life had to go on. Merida would surely be conscious now; perhaps it was time to pay her a visit and get Gold’s training on the road. But before Emma could move more than an inch suddenly a large puff of purple smoke appeared in the middle of her living room, Regina in the center of it. Emma exhaled a long puff of air and brought her head back down heavily onto the couch cushions. Of course she’d choose now to show up, because why not?

“Are you incapable of ringing the doorbell?” Emma deadpanned, repeating the woman’s words from the previous day back at her. Her gaze was fixated firmly on the ceiling, not trusting herself to look at the other woman at the moment. She had been far too caught up in memories this morning, and Emma didn’t want them affecting the way she looked at Regina when the other woman had been all too clear that she did not wish to revisit what they previously had.

“I… honestly didn’t think that would work,” Regina responded, looking shocked beyond measure that it actually had. “Why is this place not warded?”

“It is,” Emma responded, counting each imperfection in the ceiling above her; cracks, indents, chips in the paint. It kept her grounded in a situation where she already felt so out of control. “Just not against you. Not while I’m home, anyhow.”

Regina’s eyebrow rose at that. “And do you allow Hook the same come and go policy as you apparently do me?” Her tone held an accusation, and when the blonde swallowed it cut like daggers in her throat.

Emma’s lips pursed into a thin line, and suddenly she sat up, swinging her legs off the couch to meet the ground with a heavy thud. No, was the answer to that question, but that had only been a recent development, and Emma did not consider it to be any of the other woman’s business. “What do you want, Regina?”

“I want to know why the hell you took Hook’s sword.”

Emma blinked at the unexpected question. “Excuse me?” That was in no way why she had thought Regina had come over; even actually taking her up on her offer seemed more likely to her than caring about anything to do with Killian. Regina hated him.

Emma used to wonder why. She doesn’t anymore.

“Don’t play coy. You took the pirate’s sword and I want to know why,” Regina reiterated, stepping closer to the other woman. She still kept a fair amount of distance though, either due to mistrust of herself or of Emma. Perhaps both. “Because apparently your head games aren’t just reserved for me anymore, and while you might be able to emotionally cripple your boyfriend enough to make him not realize the significance of your actions, some of us aren’t as utterly moronic as your questionable choice in bed partners.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Emma practically snarled, infuriated with the way Regina always tore into Killian. Jealous or not, she at least had the decency not to speak about Robin like that to her. That was beyond petty, and it made dark magic thrum threateningly on the surface because fuck her, but using her magic against Regina wasn’t something she was built for anymore.

Only five weeks, and she couldn’t even find the strength to go against her even when she was angry and free from the other woman’s control; free, at least, until Regina realized how much she truly had. Conditioning should not be that fast, obedience should not come that easily. Sometimes, Emma wondered if she had always craved this type of relationship with someone because she had always been a bit of a lost puppy in need of a home, or if she was just the most pathetic Dark One to ever exist.

Perhaps it was both.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did that offend you?” Regina shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Because correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed as though you didn’t much care about him anymore when you practically molested me in my home. Or are you going to pretend that the pirate was not only aware, but approved of your actions last night? Because I’m fairly certain he might feel immensely betrayed by you if he knew. Should we call him and find out?”

Regina pulled out her phone then in a rather dramatic showing, actually threatening to do something so moronic that it made Emma actually worry for her sanity for a second there, and suddenly she was hit with a memory that was certainly not her own as a faceless man stood screaming at what Emma assumed was his wife about someone named… named…

Fuck, it didn’t matter.

“Like I care about other people’s marital issues,” Emma ground out furiously, hating this power. The man had been waving a phone around which was what probably brought it on, but seeing as it seemed to be about the most useless memory or premonition she has ever had, Emma’s patience with it was wearing thin. Especially because Regina had only stopped briefly to look at her like she was insane for her little outburst that seemed to come out of nowhere, before she started to—

Damnit. Actually dial.

Was she honestly serious about this? This was bordering on masochistic. Emma just wished she would realize it before she said something to someone that she couldn’t take back.

The blonde’s eyes flashed as she waved her hand, causing the cell phone to immediately disappear from Regina’s grasp. “Don’t fucking test me, Regina,” Emma spat, pointing at her in warning. Anger. it was strong; much stronger than any other emotion she had felt for a while. Then again, Regina did always know how to bring out the best in her. “You might think what I told you was a load of crap, but you forget that it’s me that holds your memories in my hands. If you screw me over, I’ll show Robin exactly what we used to do with one another; and believe me, my version won’t be quite as PG.”

But instead of looking wary of her threat, Regina merely scoffed. “You won’t, because if you wanted any of us to have our memories then you would have given them to us already. You’re hiding something, and until you feel it’s safe enough for us to remember, you wouldn’t dare give us anything that could help us make sense of your plan.”

Emma rolled her eyes at that. “Us fucking has nothing to do with my plan, unless you really believe yourself that important?” She laughed then, because it covered the next lie she was about to tell. “I can pick and choose what you, or even he would be able to remember, and then—”

“No,” Regina interrupted, taking another step towards her. There was a certainty in her eyes that made Emma vastly uncomfortable. “You can’t. Because if you could, you would have done so last night to back up your ludicrous claims. Unless, of course, they were all a lie to begin with? Either way though, you have nothing; and what’s more is that both of us know that.”

Emma immediately fell silent, anger and helplessness brewing behind her eyes, because Regina was right; she couldn’t do that. It was all or nothing, and right then Emma couldn’t give any of them all of their lost memories, even if it meant her not having something to hold over Regina in return.

She really did not enjoy Regina having the upper hand in this scenario.

Regina was starting to look far too smug for her liking, as clearly the blonde’s lack of retort indicated that she had been correct in her assumptions, and so Emma tried to stifle her pride for a moment in order to not make this situation even more messier than it already was. “Regina, please,” she pleaded softly, her gaze connecting with the former Queen’s. Begging her, because she didn’t want her secrets broadcast to those they would devastate. “Please, don’t tell him. I’ve already hurt him enough.”

And it was perhaps that, above anything else, that encouraged Regina to stand down. She stared at her, lips pursed into a thin line as she no doubt wondered if Emma was begging her not to tell him because she didn’t want some frivolous lie to hurt him, or because what she had said was really true.

“And yet you insist on continuing this ridiculous charade,” Regina responded, her voice soft yet firm; as though she hated speaking about this, but needed Emma to know that she didn’t approve. “How do you think it’s going to make him feel if he found out that you tried to manipulate me by—”

“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you,” Emma responded, her eyes growing hard as she stared the other woman down. “Believe me, Regina; if I was, I would have succeeded.” Actually that wasn’t a given, considering the last time she had tried she had failed, but Regina didn’t need to know that. “I was just trying to be honest with you—”

“I did not cheat on Robin!” Regina practically shouted, unable to accept the truth about herself. “And I’m beginning to not even care why you want me to believe I did, because we are through having this conversation; do you understand me? Now sit down, stop playing your ridiculous mind games, and tell me why the hell you took that sword!”

Emma immediately sat, the tone of voice that Regina was using all too familiar to her. The near-instantaneous reaction nearly caused the brunette’s eyebrows to practically shoot off her head, but they rose even higher when Emma couldn’t really stop herself from revealing, “I needed something that had touched Rumpelstiltskin as a man.”

Regina just stared at her, completely disbelieving about what she had just witnessed. Emma ground her teeth together, realizing that she had unintentionally set Regina up to have far too much power; all she had wanted to do was kneel at the woman’s feet and be treated like some sort of prized poodle or whatever because that was what calmed her, focused her, grounded her, but the problem was that that wasn’t all that they had done. Regina had conditioned her to obey demands with minimal resistance, and demanding that she tell her things was so terribly dangerous to her plans.

“Regina, don’t… please don’t take advantage of my trust in you right now,” Emma tried, because she knew Regina must realize by now what she could do. “If I wanted to reveal my plan to you I would. Please don’t force me.”

But Regina just stared at her like she couldn’t trust what was in front of her face. “You’re playing with me…” She looked so entirely suspicious of her motivations that Emma felt herself release an exasperated breath, because did she honestly think that the Dark One would obey her like this? Even for nothing but a manipulation, this stripped away too much pride.

“Just don’t,” Emma reiterated. “I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

[holtzmannish]

Valentine’s Day with Holtzmann

(Okay, just to Bunny, who sent in a request, just going to say that I had to take parts from your request but will definitely revisit it and do it properly. I just needed to establish more of a sense of familiarity for this encounter, but still loved the idea of reader being musical). Also, huge thanks to the several people who sent in requests! This has been a fun collaborative effort between us, so cudos to all of you lovely humans! Happy Valentine’s Day, you’re all my Valentines! <3

Holtzmann had been dropping hints about Valentines Day all week. From what colours she’d be wearing (”... because we don’t want to match, or do we, babe?”), to how she’d be treating you, and what you’d be eating (from what you gathered it’d be both a meal cooked by her, and, well, her). Unable to properly decide what to get for her and how to make the day special, you’d been keeping a little distant from her. Well, that wasn’t the only reason, you thought as you lightly brush your hand across your chest, nipples still sensitive from having pierced them a few weeks prior. Though it was something you had definitely done for yourself, you didn’t think that Holtzmann would object at all. 

So throughout the week in the lead-up to V-Day, you decided that this may perhaps be a good time to unveil this new addition to your body, as you had been physically distant throughout the healing process. A little tender still, you smile wryly, thinking to yourself that you could definitely stand to get a little action. Obviously this isn’t the only thing you’re going to get for your girlfriend, so you also pick up some chocolate and decide upon putting those sweet thoughts you have about her to music. You keep a small notebook on you most of the time in which you write down inspirational quotes and little musings, a good deal of which are about Holtz. So, sitting down at the piano in the corner of the apartment which you both share, you set some paper in front of you, stick a pencil behind your ear, and begin to let your fingers dance over the keys, playing with the melody.

You’d only been able to find time alone in the house on the eve of V-Day, and it just so happened that you hadn’t been truly inspired up until then either. Flowing smoothing in harmony with your voice, the melody comes together easier than you could have imagined. Penciling the notes down, you smile to yourself and wonder if she’ll cry when she hears what you’ve written, cheesy as it is. What you don’t see, as absorbed as you are in your work, is your girlfriend creep in the house and stand leaning in the doorway, a secret smile upon her lips as she gazes upon you with love. She ends up quietly leaving and pretending to enter the apartment loudly as you finish up, leaving you none the wiser to this. You cuddle on the couch as go to sleep wrapped in her arms as she whispers warmly into your ear that “tomorrow will be a great day, because you’ll be with me”. You chuckle at this very Holtz-y thing to say, silently agreeing and snuggling into her embrace.

The next morning, Valentine’s Day, you wake up to a cold bed and an empty house. An outfit, complete with shoes, hangs on the door of your bedroom, which you barely register and you shuffle sleepily out into the living area in search of your girlfriend. Waiting in the kitchen is a mug of hot coffee and a freshly made waffle, along with a scrawled note, which reads:

My waffle, I will see you tonight.  I think you know what to wear. Can’t wait! From your love. P.S. I think we need to revisit nicknames...

You laugh a little to yourself, eating the food she’s made for you. It’s still hot so she must have left just before you awoke. A little disappointed, you get ready and head off to work, excited for the evening and humming the tune of the song you had written the night before. 

After a long day at work, you arrive at home, unlocking the door to smell something wonderful emanating from within your kitchen. As well as that, you can hear Holtz humming a very familiar tune - the one which you had written the night before. Somehow, she has found out about your surprise and you feel your heart sink at the fact that she knows about this already. You sneak up behind her, and are pnly able to do this due to the fact that she becomes so engrossed in everything she does. Her hair is a little fuzzy from standing over something bubbling on the stove, and she wears a pressed white apron (covered in a smattering of fingerprints and splashes) over a button up shirt and pants which clash delightfully. You wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her into your body so that in her shock she doesn’t hurt herself near the flame. Smiling into her neck you greet her properly.

“Happy Valentine’s day, babe,” you say. She playfully disentangles from your embrace so that she can look at you.

“Right back at ya,” she says with a wink and a light kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’m quite busy right now, as you can see. No, you can’t help me with the food. What you can help me with is relaxing and keeping out of my way.”

She leads you to your bathroom, where a bath is drawn, filled with luxurious foam and frankly excessive amounts of candles are lit. She attempts to help you undress, though you bat her away after letting her help you out of your jacket.

“We can’t be spoiling all of tonight’s surprises in one minute, my love,” you say, to her confusion, as you thank her for the bath and usher her out of the room. Sinking into the hot, soapy bath, you let the time wash over you as you think about how lucky you are and how fantastic this night will be. 

Afterwards, you put on a robe and walk out into the kitchen. Your girlfriend tells you it’s almost ready, and even though she wants it to be a surprise, you manage to coerce her into giving you little tastes of everything. Despite the mess, she’s a brilliant cook, and she tells you to go sit down whilst she finishes up, promising “ten more minutes”.

Agreeing, you mention that you should go and put on some proper clothes, wearing only a robe at this point.

“No, stay. I like you like this,” she says with a mischievous grin and running a finger lightly under the robe down in between your breasts. This touch excites you a little more than you care to admit, and unable to keep it under wraps for any longer (despite the knowledge that she has somehow heard it before), you dance away from her towards the piano. Sitting down with a flourish of your robe, you begin to play and the words pour from your mouth.

You decided the best way to play it was as if she had never heard before, at least for now. So you coax the melodies from the keys, losing yourself to the moment and reveling in this musical ecstasy, allowing every feeling you feel for Holtz to be displayed through the power of music. Your voice cracks occasionally from the emotion of it all, yet you continue. When you finish you find her standing a few feet behind you, speechless and tears welling up in her eyes.

“That was beautiful. Thank you,” she says and you know that this was a good decision. You walk over to her and take her hands in yours, resting your forehead up against hers as the two of you are sharing your intense emotions.

“Every word was true. I love you,” you murmur to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. 

“It’s the best gift I have ever received,” she says, and you feel a drop of wetness in the crook of your neck.

“Well,” you say jokingly, pulling away. “I’ll just take all the other stuff back!” you wipe the stray tears from her cheeks and gesture to the bag by the piano. 

“Just kidding, you can open that later though.”

“Okay, okay,” she says with a small laugh. “Right now there’s something else I’m dying to open up.” With this, she fiddles with the tie of your bath robe.

You take her wrists, laughing and resisting. “But what about dinner?”

“Dinner can wait. This will definitely satiate me,” she says with a grin. “But I should probably turn off the stove...”

She takes you by the hand, laughing and nervous with anticipation as she turns off the food, not letting go of you the entire time.You undo the apron and take it off from over her head, throwing it over a nearby chair.

Holtzmann begins to undo the bow at your waist, and placing your hands over her you catch her gaze. “This is part two,” you say with a grin. She raises an eyebrow at you and continues to undo your robe. Pulling it from her shoulders, her eyes widen and she bites her lower lip.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed,” she says smirking.

You smile in return, taking her hands and placing them on your waist, before beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt and taking it off of her. Her eyes dart between the silver metal in your nipples and your eyes, as her hands brush up your torso, a singular thumb brushing over your nipple. At the sensation, you gasp lightly, licking your lips and drawing her closer into your body. As she sheds layers of clothing, she hoists you up onto the kitchen bench. Fingers exploring each other bodies, you warn her that your nipples are a little sensitive, so be careful.

“All the better to pleasure you with, my dear,” she says in a throaty growl, making you laugh at the inappropriate reference.

“As much as I’m into this, I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste,” you say, gesturing towards the food she’s made.

“Forget dinner, I know what I’d rather be eating tonight,” she purrs into your ear as your fingers wind into her hair.

(Okay sorry to leave you guys all with your lady-boners but unfortunately this is where I had to end it. Happy Valentine’s Day!) 

[dawnlikeswater]

Project better future #26

it has been a busy couple of weeks - This post will be long, skip to the bottom for the TL-DR.

So I went to Bangor universities applicant day; They are a bit different from an open day, you don’t get to sort of, leisurely stroll through the campus and see everything, it is a much more structured visit, you go to an orientation welcoming presentation, then they split us up in to groups, and we went then to see a presentation on student finance, then one about student life at that university, the opportunities we’d have for studying abroad, the internships available in the university itself, touched a bit on progression after graduating, then they put us on to what was just... the most tiny and uncomfortable mini bus i have ever been on in my life.... the seats were so tiny and so hard.. they took us to see the student accommodation.. i mean, it was nice enough, kinda standard stuff for the uk.

I already knew before getting there though that i absolutely was not going to be going in to the universities student accommodation though, I absolutely hate sharing my living space with strangers, when i was in college here in the uk (for any muricans, college in the uk is different to america k, it’s not the same level of study as in universities, you have to do 2 years of college before you can go to uni in the uk) anyway, when i was in college here, i had to live away from home in university student housing, and i absolutely hated and detested it, so i absolutely will not be doing that ever again. Private studio or 1 bed place for me.

after that tour we got put onto a somehow even smaller and even more uncomfortable mini bus to be taken to the other side of the city to the Ocean Sciences buildings, we had a short welcome speech there, lunch and a couple of hours to talk to students there doing the courses we had applied for and to almost the whole faculty, so i got to meet a lot of potential teachers and they were really nice.

Most importantly though, they were able to answer every question I had about the types of classes i’d have, how much i’d be able to gear myself towards a specific career etc, about specific marine related internships, research and working opportunities with the university and with companies in the surrounding areas.

It was quite reassuring, towards the end they also did some simple activities with us using pieces of their own research to help them explain their own research backgrounds and how they would teach their classes to us, it’s a research university, everything we learn will be up to date and as it’s happening we’ll be learning it, which is pretty amazing.

To finish it off, and in the pouring rain of course, we got to go have a very quick visit to the universities research vessel the Prince Madog ( i feel like it was named by student vote, calling it prince madog) which was really really big, it even had an onboard wet lab and such so yeah, that seemed fun.

After that we got sent back on the tiny bus... im not a big person by any means, i have always fit perfectly fine in just 1 seat, this bus i shit you not was so tiny i was taking up nearly 2 seats on my own.

All in all it was a very long day, i spent 8 hours in the car, but it was a surprisingly easy drive just like, motorway the entire journey pretty much, which i could tell my mum was very relieved about, the time at the university was a little rushed, the day just went by very quickly when i was there, i would have liked to see more of the universities facilities and the town / city itself as well

but all in all it seemed like a nice place, here’s some of the pictures i took, they arent the best but i was pretty distracted with just well, everything so i didnt take very many at all.

Following that, I started my new admin job properly, it’s going ok so far i think, there’s not much to say about it really, but the working hours balance very well with my studies right now so im happy about that. not so happy about all the 5am starts though i can’t handle the mornings so well.

Yesterday, 30th of march, 2017, over a week after they said they would give me my response, UWE finally sent me their response to my application there, so i was accepted there as well, yay.

This of course left me then with having to pick between the two, which would be my firm / first choice, and which would be my security net.

Now i know you might be wondering why i didn’t chose to take the transfer for the 2nd year with UWE, I chose Bangor and retaking the first year purely because their course is just so much more, and that much more closely related with what i have really really wanted to study for the last 10 years now.... i’ve literally wanted to be a marine zoologist since i was 12 years old, and even though i’ll be revisiting things i have learned this year, there are still a lot of classes in that first year that i have not taken, it is not a wasted year.

I’m officially going to be a marine vertebrate zoology student, and i’ll be graduating when i’m 25 and im darn proud of myself ^^

And with my current course of study well, my final assignment is due on June 1st, so i finish in about 2 months now, i don’t know if the open university really does graduation days or anything like that, but if they did I would really like to go, i’ve never actually been to any of my school graduations til now, i’ve always been moving house or in hospital myself, or the one time my mum was in hospital, and it’s really really strange, and just, this year has been really crazy, last august til now things have really really changed, and so much of it comes down to me just making small steps in the right direction and really trying to get a hold of my shit and it’s actually been working for once.

from now til september i feel is going to go really fast a well, i hope im ready in time for everything

TL-DR I went to the bangor university open day, it went well and it seemed like a nice place, they also had absolutely tiny tiny busses, bristol UWE finally gave me a response to my application and I was accepted by them as well, I was finally able to accept & decline university offers and chose Bangor as my first choice so i’m going to bangor uni in september, the new jobs going ok so far as well and i finish and graduate my current course of studies with the open university in about 2 months, somehow, my project for a better future is working.