#it just also happens to be the name of a pool cleaner. whatever. i was right even if nobody else could see it

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

chlorine

[womanofwords]

High School (Part 2)

Previously:

Part 1

Neither Hero nor Villain were expecting how . . . different the other one would look now that they were fifteen again.

Villain looked less intimidating and almost cleaner now that the scars and tattoos were gone. (Well, most of them, anyway.) She had also decreased in size, all her muscle now gone as her once form-fitting clothes now hung off her like a washing line. She was now just another a lanky, dark-haired teenager, something that she didn’t like one bit.

Hero had also sacrificed some muscle and a bit of height, but the most jarring change was his hair. The mane of hair that was once a glossy dark brown with volume and shine was now a dull, dishwater blonde that hung limply in depressingly straight tresses down to his shoulders.

“I’ve given you both fake names and as far as the school is concerned, you are a normal set of adopted siblings and I’m your dad,” Superhero briefed, as if nothing had happened.

“You’re OUR DAD?!” they shrieked.

“Yes. All for the sake of your own development of course. Two fifteen-year-olds cannot be trusted to look after themselves, so you will be living with me in a safe house. Anyway, your first day is tomorrow.”

Hero smirked at Villain. “I’m going to be fine. I wish you all the best luck, though.”

“What do you mean by that?” Villain said, already willing to square up.

“High school was a cakewalk for me before. Why would it be any different for me now? It’s the kids that study hard and do well and act as a good example that are beloved, not . . . goth kids. And I bet that nothing has changed a bit.”

Villain squinted at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” Hero smirked. “Now, I’m going to get myself ready. You can do whatever.” And then Hero walked away to his stuff, albeit rather ungracefully, since his once skintight spandex onesie that he had called a uniform was a lot bigger on his teenage frame. His uniform was now baggy enough to actually pose as a tripping hazard as it swallowed their feet in a pool of fabric.

“I’m fine with what I’ve got, thanks. I don’t need your help with-”

“Now, now, Villain,” Superhero said, appearing out of nowhere. “You are a teenager now, and it is my responsibility to look after you. Although Hero will be only doing this for a semester, you will be getting a proper degree. This is a fresh start.”

“This feels embarrassing! Why would I want to stay in this?” Villain snapped, her voice coming off as being far more whiny than she meant it to be. In another room, she heard Hero fall to the floor with a thud.

“OW!” Hero yelled, unseen. Villain grinned.

“On second thought, I guess it won’t be too bad.”

“That’s my girl,” Superhero grinned.

After this

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[sunfish-studies]

Cushioned

✄・・・ Crisp Leaves [Aoba Johsai Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: Kageyama is just babie

➜ Notes: Manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm.

[Re-Post]

↷ SUMMARY ↶

They’re just looking away for a minute for goodness’s sake and someone already managed to steal their spotlight as their manager’s knight in shining armor–but they’re chill as long as you’re okay. Well, except Oikawa.

It’s another practice match of Aoba Johsai and Karasuno–Coach Irihata mentioned about it’s easy to have opponents, however looking for a worthy rival is on another level. And Karasuno managed to earn a rightful place as Aoba Johsai’s rival–that’s why practice match against them is something to look forward.

As usual, when the crows greeted the team once they arrived, you were the one in charge in greeting them back and show them the ropes for the day’s match. Having clicked with Kiyoko and Hitoka made it even easier–being friends with another team’s manager has its own fun, especially you’re the only female in a huge room full of male population.

That and Karasuno is a very interesting team to watch–their dynamic serv as an entertainment for you and a future reference for understanding each and every member’s tendency.

You could watch them the whole match if not remembering your duty as a manager of Seijoh.

The practice match went smoothly–everyone was all out even though it wasn’t a real deal, and the second set ended with Aoba Johsai taking yet another one with Karasuno being extremely close with the points.

“Great work,” you praised, handing over the drinking bottles you previously filled with Kiyoko and Hitoka.

“Still, the freak-combi is hard thing to handle,” Matsukawa commented.

“Yeah, the shrimp is moving much better than before,” Hanamaki added. “He’s just spiking with all his might before but now he’s really controlling how to hit the ball.”

“It goes beyond amazing to irritating,” Oikawa clicked his tongue, the grip he had on his bottle tightened.

“You said that every time.” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “And Kageyama’s really on his game today. His serves were on point.”

“Even though I hate to admit it but Iwaizumi-san is right,” Kindaichi grumbled while Kunimi’s eyebrow twitched.

“And not to mention the digs!” Watari exclaimed, wiping his neck with a clean towel. “The rally is getting longer because no one wants the ball drops.”

“’Ah, the baldy is getting on my nerves with all those straights,’” you said, glancing over Kyotani who had his shoulders tensed from the sudden teasing grin he received. “That’s what you’re thinking right, Kyotani-kun? Well, Tanaka-san is really improving his shots.”

“You sure memorized their names, senpai,” Yahaba commented. “I didn’t even know anyone else other than Kageyama because Oikawa-san keeps mentioning him every chance he got.”

Oikawa gasped, feeling scandalized with the statement. “I do not, Yahaba-kun!”

You rose an eyebrow. “Are you really crushing on Tobio-kun right now? No. I don’t allow it with those trashy attitude you have every time he’s close.”

“I’m not, [Nickname]-chan!!”

“Hands off my baby, Trash King.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said!?”

“[Name]-chan!” Kiyoko called, which made you whipped your head to face her. “I think one of the bottles are switched, can you take a look?”

“Sure!” You replied back, immediately wrapping a clean towel around Kunimi’s neck. “I’ll be back in a second.”

You jogged towards the Karasuno team, and sadly that’s when the disaster happened.

Not noticing a small pool of water or whatever liquid that is on the wooden floor, you stepped on it without knowing–resulting an instant slip for you.

You yelped in surprise–feeling gravity automatically pulling you to the ground. Every thing seemed to be in slow motion somehow and even though you realized the fall was going to hurt, you didn’t have quick reflex to really move or do anything. That’s why you decided to brace the pain.

However, it never came.

Once you opened your eyes (since when did you even close it anyway?), you’re gaze immediately met with a pair of cobalt blue and black. And the only person who had both is someone you’re extremely familiar with.

“Are you alright, [Name]-san?” Kageyama asked, eyes filled with concern and his face was quite close with yours–wait, what?

That’s when you notice a sturdy arm wrapped around your waist, preventing you from hitting the ground back first–also noticing the series of exaggerating gasps and shrieks echoing throughout the gym. Your cheeks suddenly felt as if it was on fire.

“NOOO!! [NICKNAME]-CHAN!!” Oikawa shrieked–making the two of you pulled away. Your friend of nearly eight years stomped forward and put your figure behind him, shielding you from Kageyama. “Don’t get too close with our manager, Tobio-chan!!”

“Tooru, you know that he’s helping me, right?” you pointed out. “I would’ve hit my head.”

“N-n-n-nice save, Kageyama!” Hinata stuttered, you could see his face flaming red–and it seemed infectious because Kageyama’s face turned red, as he’s just realizing what he was doing.

“Shut up, dumbass!!”

“The floor does need wiping,” Iwaizumi commented. “We should take a break and wipe all of the court.”

“Me, Kiyoko-chan, and Hitoka-chan can do that. You guys just rest.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said!?” Oikawa whined, before turning and pointing accusingly towards his whole team. “And you guys! Don’t you feel something when a boy from another team have their hands on our manager!?”

Hanamaki shrugged. “He’s saving her, nobody can get close that fast.”

“He made sure [Name] didn’t hit the ground, as long as nothing happened it’s chill.” Matsukawa added.

“I-It’s way better if Otohaku-senpai’s safe,” Kindaichi stuttered. “That’s what I’m thinking…”

Yahaba tsked and looked away, murmuring something about ‘as long as our manager is safe, but I can’t get this frustration off my chest’. Kyotani just stared straight at their weird captain with no emotion whatsoever, he didn’t see Kageyama as a threat so he didn’t need to put his guard up. Watari just nervously laughing as he didn’t know how to reply that statement, meanwhile Kunimi was looking extremely done with the drama.

“Shouldn’t we start discussing strategies instead?” Iwaizumi remarked, which made all of them moved to face their coaches–choosing to ignore Oikawa’s shriek of betrayal.

“I got the mops! Let’s wipe the floor squeaky clean, Kiyoko-chan, Hitoka-chan!”

“Let’s do it.” Kiyoko replied, smiling slightly–and you could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya gushing over her radiating beauty.

“I-I’ll do my best!” Hitoka replied.

“Can I help too?” Kageyama piped up, slightly raising his hand.

“You can, but shouldn’t you be resting?” you questioned.

“OOH! Let me join too, let me join too!” Hinata was already by your side so suddenly.

“Shoyo-kun, it’s just wiping the floor, you’re being too excited.” You replied, laughing.

Then the two proceed to made a bet on who could wipe the floor faster and cleaner. Before they jumped into action, you reached out for Kageyama’s shirt and tugged it lightly which made him turned to face you. When you’re still in Kitagawa Daiichi, the boy was way smaller and now he’s standing half head taller than you–and he’s still growing.

“Thank you, Tobio-kun. For before.”

“I-It’s no problem…”

“Don’t get too close with Tobio-chan, [Nickname]-chaan!!”

“Shut up, Crappykawa!”

[ghostgothgeek]

Map of Amity Park

So I did a bunch of research and traced over the map the GIW had in DCMH and extended it to try and build a map of Amity Park. I also paid close attention to locations and places named in canon. I am by no means an artist, map maker, photoshop pro, or civil engineer; I just wanted a general reference map for the phandom to use. 

Here is where I place Amity Park. We know AP isn’t in Michigan or Wisconsin, but is most likely a day drive away from Madison (Bitter Reunions). AP is a decent sized city of itself, so I can see it being an outskirt of a large city like Chicago. Lancer mentions the Northwestern Testing, and Northwestern University is in Evanston, IL, which is why I placed it where it is.

LIST OF PLACES (in great detail): 

Every city needs it’s basic services: energy supply, water supply, sewage, and trash/recycling. These of course are located more on the edge of the city, as they need a large amount of space and are typically isolated.

I placed a local airport in the city as well. Typically you would fly out of one of Chicago’s airports anyway, but private planes (Vlad, Mansons, etc.) can take off and land here. 

University of Amity Park is located at the north side of the city, and is home to a Nasty Burger location, an LGBT Center, and is probably near a gas station. The blocks surrounding the campus are more student housing. 

Near the University, we have the Science Center, Axion Labs, a Mental Institute, and the Museum, as a lot of research from the University would go into those places. 

In the more isolated areas, we have the Penitentiary, the abandoned North Mercy Hospital, and the GIW Headquarters. 

The Zoo is located on the north side of the park and is also close to the University for research purposes.

The Observatory is also located in a more isolated area, so you can actually see the stars without a bunch of light pollution.

Going into the center of town, where most things are actually located:

A community college, which is near the internet cafe where Danny and Tucker play games, a gas station, a liquor store, a thrift shop, a Planned Parenthood, Java Jive (the coffee shop), a tech store, and a gym. 

We also have a shoe store, the hunting goods store and Guitar Palace that Skulker and Ember take over in Reign Storm, the U-Ship Box Store the Box Ghost takes over, a barber and a hardware store.

There is a hair salon, tanning salon, and nail salon, where Paulina frequents. There is also Elmer’s Pharmacy, a dentist office, a law office, the TV repair store, butcher shop, and pet store (which we see next to each other in an episode), a toy store, and a vet office.

Government buildings include City Hall, a public library, a court house, a DMV, a bus station (for all mass transit in the city), a community center (likely where town halls are located and other smaller events; Ida plays bingo here every week), and a retirement home. 

There is also the post office, Amity Park Fire Department, a bank, the 24K Jewelry shop, a nearby ice cream shop, and another Nasty Burger location (this is the one right by Casper High that the trio usually hangs at). Also an animal shelter, a grocery store, and a pizza joint.

Education: there is a preschool and daycare, the elementary school, a playground/park, the middle school (yes, a Beetlejuice reference), and Casper High. Casper High campus also has the track, a fieldhouse, and the football field. 

Moving towards Amity Park Mall:

Bucky’s Music Mega Store, an apartment complex, Amity Park Police Department, a bookstore, doctor clinic, gas station, a Denny’s (where Phight Club happens), Material Grill restaurant, the mini golf course and bowling alley, Freddy Fazbear’s (which is actually a horror video game, but here it’s a kids pizza place like Chuck E. Cheese), a furniture store, a party supply store, and the movie theater (which is Marmel’s Multiplex 22, Amity Park Multiplex, and Googolplex Cinemas...it seems that they go to the same movie theater throughout the series and the names just change, or these could also be other movie theaters in the area (like near the college campus). I just picked Multiplex 22 cause it sounded very mall-y).

Along the interstate, there’s a pawn shop, a publishing house (which somehow prints all 5 of Amity Park’s newspapers), a homeless shelter, the diner, Safe House Motel, a laundromat, the 89¢ Store (a nod to Fanning the Flames), and the car dealership.

Also near the mall is Amity Arena, which hosts concerts, sports events, and other large entertainment events. There is a hotel near both the arena and the hospital (the one that isn’t abandoned and haunted). Towards the outskirts of the hospital, there’s a trailer park; north a few blocks is the TV station, where News 4 is headquartered. There’s also a construction site near Amity Arena, but that kinda went out the window when Undergrowth hit. 

On the other side of town, we have:

A-Mart, a convenience store. I named it like this because it can be like an offshoot of KMart, but A for Amity! 

Floody Waters, right off the interstate.

North of Floody Waters, East of Casper High, we have the main residences: the Foley household and only a couple blocks away is Fenton Works. 

There’s also another gas station and the Amity Park Radio Station nearby. There’s also a private school near ultra posh Polter Heights, but the A-Listers attend Casper High because the private school doesn’t have a football or cheerleading team.

Moving into Polter Heights and the surrounding area:

The Polter Heights Golf Course and Country Club are exclusive to those in the neighborhood, as well as their private neighborhood pool; members only. 

The Mayor’s Mansion (eventually Vlad’s) is located in here too.

All of the A-Listers’ houses are of course in this neighborhood, as well as Val’s previous residence and the Fenton’s temporary mansion from Living Large (which is of course right next door to Vlad, but with some distance, because the rich are always socially distancing with their big houses).

Polter Heights is adjacent to a bunch of farmland (this is the midwest, we like cows and stuff), and there is a church close by as well.

Just outside Polter Heights is the Manson Mansion (with Sam’s greenhouse). Lucky for Sam, the Skulk and Lurk Books and an occult shop are just down the street. The Manson residence is also near a funeral home and graveyard (how did Sam get so lucky? Oh, because I love her), a synagogue, Mario’s restaurant, and a dry cleaners. 

We get more spacious as we get away from the center of town! 

Along the shore of Lake Eerie, there are the docks which are home to many warehouses, including the mattress factory.

Also along the shoreline, there is a pier which doubles as an amusement park (think kinda like Navy Pier in Chicago in comparison) and alongside the pier is the public beach area. 

Camp Skull and Crossbones is located on the other side of Lake Eerie, and the fishing area is more on the north side of the lake. Lake Eerie is not one of the Great Lakes, it’s just its own thing in Amity Park. 

Back towards the park, we have event grounds space, which is where Circus Gothica is located, as well as the Meet Swap and flea market. Basically whatever rotating event hits town, it comes right here. Just next door is a theatre (for music, opera, Broadway, etc.). There is also the third and final Nasty Burger location in AP.

This is all surrounding the actual park Amity Park, which has a pond, a big fountain, and also hosts that really big hill that overlooks City Hall.

On the south side, across the bridge and over the interstate is Elmerton, where Val currently is resided. 

All the other blocks are filled with more office buildings, apartment complexes, houses, and businesses, but all of the main places are already listed and placed. 

Finally, yes, I did name some places for myself and my friends because they’re great and they deserve it. These include Steph’s (mine) Occult Shoppe, Nick’s Liquor Emporium (@ecto-american), Lexx R Us Toystore (@lexosaurus and appropriately named after the Lexxpocalypse), Laz’s Law Offices LLC (@kinglazrus), Dee’s Dentistry (@qlinq-qhost​), Lily’s Looks Thrift Store (@dannyphantomisameme​), Ceci’s Funeral Home (@ceciliaspen​), Vic’s Amusement Park (@babypop-phantom​), and Reverie Books (@wastefulreverie​). 

[snazzy-suit]

LLoG Chapter 5.4 (Snippet) Hey! Creatures! Leave Them Kids Alone!

Hey, it’s been a while! Like, what, over a year since I last updated this arc? And this isn’t even a complete chapter, just a little sneak-peek at a potential scene in part four (I say potential, because part four has been re-written so many times I’ve lost count, so who knows if it’ll make the cut). 

But yeah, I thought it was about time I post something, even if it’s just a rough, unedited snippet.

Enjoy!

=

For context, Luigi and the Polterpup have made their way to the second floor of the house, and are searching for Gooigi and the final captured kid. This picks up at the moment Luigi and Pepper reunite after briefly becoming separated. 

===

Luigi quietly approaches Pepper, offering the latter a hushed reprimand for running off. His half-hearted scolding sputters out as he takes notice of what has captured the canine's attention. The pup is plopped before an innocuous, oak door. There aren’t any visible barriers, and the plumber doesn’t feel any malicious energy warning off potential intruders. While relieving, it doesn’t ease the trepidation settling in the plumber’s gut. He glances at the Polterpup; they don’t appear to be bothered by whatever lay on the other side of this door. Luigi cautiously grasps the handle, and when it offers no resistance, he opens the door.

The plumber isn’t sure what he expected to find on the other side—other than an angry ghost—but a cramped hall closet certainly wouldn’t have been his first guess. He is greeted by an assortment of coats, shoes, and—to his quiet amusement—a vacuum cleaner. Luigi quirks a brow at the bland discovery. Why did Pepper lead him to a closet? What was he supposed to find here?

Luigi reaches toward the wall of coats, intending to part them, when something suddenly lunges from the storage space’s depths.  

“Take this, evil ghost!"

Luigi narrowly avoids being brained by a swinging clothes iron. When his attacker misses, their forward momentum sends them crashing to the floor in a heap. Luigi hastily steps back, but pauses in his retreat as he takes in the ambusher’s appearance.

They’re a Doogan—an adolescent with russet fur and pale blue eyes. The patch of hair on their head is hidden by a baseball cap bearing a team mascot Luigi doesn’t recognize, presumably from the kid’s school.

Pepper curiously sniffs at the fallen teen. The Doogan scoots away with a startled yelp, swiping at the ghostly canine with their impromptu weapon. They gape in shock when the iron passes harmlessly through their target.  

“What the—? Why didn’t it work?! I thought ghosts couldn’t stand iron!"

“Iron, as in the metal,” Luigi corrects, somewhat amused, “not the tool you use to get wrinkles out of clothes. Also, iron isn’t as effective as folklore makes it out to be.”

“Oh." The teen frowns at his useless weapon. “I knew I should have tried to whittle a stake instead."

“...where are you getting your paranormal information from?"

“The cryptids page on the ‘seenthat’ forum. Those guys really seemed to know their stuff, so I, uh..." They trail off, looking up at the plumber with sudden recognition. “Holy crap you’re Luigi.” The teen smiles, laughing nervously. “Luigi’s in my house. I’m being rescued by one of the Mario Brothers. This is awesome."

Luigi can’t help but smile back, feeling partially relieved. The kid can’t be in too bad of shape if they’re able to feel star-struck, right?

“You must be Dane."

“Wha— Oh! Yeah, that’s me. Dane—Dane Pawper. Well, my parents named me Larry, so my full name is actually Larry Dane Pawper but who wants to go by Larry?" He blinks, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous."

“No worries, I’m the same way." The plumber offers Dane his hand to help the teen up. They happily accept his offer, but grimace as they feel Luigi’s damp glove.  

“Hey, why are you all wet?” Dane asks, brow raised.

“I shower with my clothes on.”

That startles a laugh out of the teen, and Luigi is grateful they hadn’t been put-off by his flat tone. Sometimes his sense of humor comes off as a touch derisive, even if it’s not his intention.

“No, but seriously, what happened?” The teen glances up and down the hall, as if searching for the cause of Luigi’s saturated state. “Did one of our pipes burst again?” 

Luigi imperceptibly cringes, feeling a tad self-conscious.

“A Blooper ghost threw your pool at me.”

“Oh...” Dane rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, looking anywhere but at Luigi. “I’m sorry. I... this is my fault. All these ghosts are here because of me," he mumbles. “I’m the one that read from the book."

Luigi’s brows rise marginally. Dane was the summoner? That certainly explains why the strongest ghost targeted him.

“I don’t think it’s fair for you to take all the blame. From what Koojo told me, it was a group decision."

The Doogan’s eyes light up.

“You talked to Koojo? Is he okay? What about the others?"

“He’s fine, they all are," Luigi assures. “They’re outside waiting with a friend while my partners and I handle the rest of these ghosts."

Dane’s shoulders sag with relief.

“Thank the Stars," he sighs. Then, curiously, “Wait, partners? As in more than one? Is Mario here too?"

Luigi fights back a laugh. His brother was talented in many things, but for whatever reason, he seemed to flounder whenever he tried to wield the Poltergust.

“No, ghost hunting isn’t really his thing," he says mildly. “Pepper and Gooigi are my partners in crime tonight."

The teen perks, suddenly looking elated.  

“Dude! Same here!”

When Luigi gives him an odd look, Dane reaches into the pockets of his orange jacket and procures a pepper shaker and a pair of sunglasses with a large “G” printed on the arms. Luigi stares at the items with thinly veiled dismay.

“Good Grambi,” Luigi mumbles quietly. “The Boos back at the mansion would adore you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Dare I ask why you have pepper in your pocket?”

“For protection,” the kid says like it’s obvious, “from demons!”  

The plumber takes a deep, composing breath.

“Remind me to make some book recommendations after we get out of here,” he says tiredly. “And to clarify, Pepper is my dog. Also, I said Gooigi, not the fashion brand.”

“Goo... igi...?” Dane repeats slowly. “Is that a portmanteau of ‘Goo’ and ‘Luigi’?”

Luigi offers a somewhat solemn nod.

“Uh... would this ‘Gooigi’ person happen to look like you if you were a lime-green fruit snack?”

“You’ve seen him?”

The teen suddenly looks embarrassed.

“Yeah... I, uh, kinda ran away... from him...?” His voice lilts as if asking a question. At Luigi’s blank stare, he hurries to elaborate. “I didn’t know he was a good guy!”

“You just said he looks like me.”

“Man, I don’t know! I didn’t really make the connection at the time!” Dane throws his hands up. “I just saw a walking Gummy Man wobbling around and freaked out! I thought they were one of the things the hooded dude summoned.”

A dozen questions pop into the plumber’s mind. The first to leave his mouth is, undoubtedly, the least imperative.

“...Gummy Man?"

“I’m not very creative."

Maybe not, but Luigi was definitely going to tease his partner about this later.

===

And there we have it! I know it’s not much, but I can’t include much in the way of action without spoiling things. This scene is one of the few that has remained fairly consistent through all the drafts, so I felt it was safe to share. Plus I enjoyed writing the dialogue. Honestly, that’s some of my favorite stuff to write. 

Now, as far as where I am in drafting this thing... well, fun fact: Part 4 ain’t the end of this. Part 4 became Part 5, and Part 5 went on into Part 6 (and I am begging the universe that it doesn’t try and get a Part 7). I’m pretty sure I’ve already said this before, but this arc has gone off the rails and I am struggling to get it under control. Currently, I am working on the first draft of Part 6. Weep for me. :’D 

[pressedinthepages]

Succulent

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n:  Reader Request: [Could I please request an imagine with Jaskier fluff/smut where the reader has short hair (the longest being chin length) and she is in love with Jaskier. But when they travel to a ball, she feels she can’t complete to all the beautiful ladies in the ballroom with their flowing long hair, and she feels insecure about herself, in which Jaskier shows her that she can be beautiful with short hair, and does things with her hair, and smut/fluff happens. (cause girls with short hair need love too! 🥰)]  Omg yessss short hair represent!!!

Also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a soundboard and friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, semi-public ~relations~

Jaskier is in dire need after the events of the dragon hunt.

    You huff at your reflection, running your fingers through your hair as you turn away. Your dress swirls around your ankles as you pace around the dressing room, chancing a glance out of the window. The path is lined with people all dressed in bright-colored finery, and your eyes catch on the women’s hair. Some have their hair piled atop their heads in a complicated manner, while some have left it to flow gracefully down their backs, catching the lights from torches at the gate. 

    Jaskier has been invited to play in court, and the two of you were invited to stay overnight in the castle as payment, along with a good chunk of coin. He has been in the bath for ages now, letting the oils and salts soak into his skin until his fingers turn to raisins. You turn back to the mirror once more, taking in the girl there.

    You are dressed in a fine gown, rich blue velvet draping all the way to the floor and tied around the waist with a delicate silver chain. The sleeves hug down to your elbows before flowing freely to your hand. A simple pair of court slippers cover your feet, and you only wear the one ring that had once belonged to Jaskier’s grandmother back in Lettenhove. And your hair, well. That’s what started all of this huffing in the first place. 

    You have taken to keeping your hair cropped much higher than most ladies of your time, choosing to keep it closer ‘round the sides and a bit longer on top. It’s long enough to tuck behind your ear, something that Jaskier could learn from after he tripped over his own two feet not that long ago. It’s quite well suited for traveling, staying cleaner and neater for longer, but nights like tonight remind you of when your hair had been long and luxurious, especially since you’re not really sure what to do with your hair now. 

    Jaskier sneaks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulders and smiling at you in the mirror. His hair is still damp and he is dressed only in his chemise and smallclothes. Jaskier’s hands wrap around your arms, his thumbs stroking gently over the fine fabric. 

    “You always take my breath away, my love,” Jaskier whispers, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, “but you do look exquisite tonight.”

    You choke out a laugh, and you can see how it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you, Jaskier. It’s nice to get all dressed up like this, but-”

    Jaskier’s eyes, so strikingly blue when they meet yours, are suddenly filled with concern. “But?”

    You sigh, and Jaskier’s hands smooth up and down your arms. “All of the ladies down there, they have all of this gorgeous hair. I just...feel so-”

    “Amazing? Beautiful? Stunningly glorious?”

    “Plain.” Your fingers itch at your sides and you ache to just turn tail and hide. But Jaskier has no intentions of letting that happen, as he spins you around to face him in one smooth movement. 

    “‘Plain’ she says? You, dear, are many things. Smart, loyal, charismatic, a stealer of hearts and plunderer of souls, but ‘plain’ is certainly not a word that I would ever even think about using to describe you.”

    You flush, looking down at your feet. When you find his eyes again they are clear and bright and brimming with so much love that it could knock you off your feet. Your voice is small when you speak again, “Would you help me do my hair for tonight?”

    The smile Jaskier gives you could wipe away the sun, his eyes crinkled and his hands bripping you tight. “Let me put some trousers on, and then it would be my pleasure to help you, my dear.” He pecks you gently on the nose before turning to the bedroom.

    Jaskier returns quickly, still doing up the laces at the front of his light blue trousers. They’re almost a perfect match for his eyes, but they lack the warmth that is so unique to him. He pulls a chair in front of the mirror and you sit, watching how Jaskier’s hands card through your hair. You close your eyes and focus on his fingers, letting them soothe you to the bone. 

    “Any preferences, darling?” Jaskier asks, his voice low and quiet.

    You shake your head, humming as he reaches over to the little table. You hear him stick a few pins between his lips before getting to work, parting your hair how you like and pulling a bit of the longer pieces away. Jaskier’s fingers work quickfully and gracefully, plaiting the hair and adding more in as he goes. The braid wraps all the way around the back of your head and the end gets tucked behind another section of hair as he pins it in place. Jaskier rounds the chair as you open your eyes and he kneels in front of you. He reaches up and loosens a few strands to frame your face.

    “There,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss your cheek, “all finished.”

    You nod, offering a hand to help him up. He pulls you up as he stands as well. “Thank you, Jaskier.”

    “Of course, my love. Anything, always. Now, where did I set my doublet?” He hurries off, leaving you to take one last glance in the mirror. You smile at what you see, turning away quickly to help Jaskier.

***

    Later that evening, after Jaskier’s performance has ended and the guests have begun to leave for their own homes, the two of you stroll through the gardens. The moon is a bright crescent in the sky, bathing the freshly bloomed jasmine and primrose in an ethereal light. 

    Jaskier has, of course, opened his doublet to the air, letting the night breeze cool his chest where it is bare. His arm is linked with yours, leading you through the winding paths and into a tall hedge maze. He has a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips as he takes you through twists and turns before finally finding the center. There is a great fountain that glitters in the moonlight, surrounded by sprawling bushes of honeysuckle that blooms with the night.

    You sit on the ledge, with Jaskier at your side. “Ooh! Turn around, love. I want to try something.” You raise your brow but turn nonetheless.

    Jaskier’s fingers return to your hair, nudging and prodding as he nestles the braid around whatever he is doing. You trail your fingers in the water as you look up at the stars, goosebumps travelling over your skin as Jaskier brushes over your neck. 

    “Alright, love,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder as he leans back, “what do you think?”

    You look down into the pool of water, giggling at what you find. Jaskier has woven some of the honeysuckles into the braid, the bright yellow flowers standing out brightly against your hair. Jaskier takes your hand and brings it up, pressing his lips to them lightly before trailing up your arm. 

    He takes one of the blossoms and sucks on the bottom, letting the nectar hit his tongue. “Mmm, almost as sweet as you.”

    “I truly love you, Jaskier,” you whisper as your hand winds around his shoulder. Jaskier hums when he gets to your neck and climbs even higher, smiling wide before meeting your lips. He tastes of sweet wine and honey cakes, indulgent and rare with every kiss. You can feel the heat behind him, his tongue snaking into your mouth and pulling a moan from deep in your stomach. 

    Jaskier moves to kneel on the ground and pulls you with him, leaning back so that you are straddling his hips as he lies back on the grass. You thread your fingers in his hair and kiss him again, a smile on your lips as his arms wrap around your waist. His arousal presses against your core through your clothes and you bite his lip, the kiss turning desperate in the space of a heartbeat. 

    His hands hike up your dress as yours find the laces on his trousers. His cock springs free, flushed ruddy and weeping. You sit up on your knees and give him a few long, languid strokes. Jaskier’s eyes are dark as his fingers push your underclothes aside before plunging in, soaking himself with your slick. 

    “Take me, love,” he murmurs as you run his length through your folds. Your hips cant for a moment and then you sink down onto him. You take your time, watching how Jaskier’s head falls back and his fingers tighten on your thighs. When your hips meet you sigh, so blissfully full as the breeze kisses your skin.

You move slowly, sliding up and down his cock. Jaskier’s hips meet you at every thrust, increasing the pace as he pulls you closer to him. His hand reaches up and pulls the pin from your hair and you gasp as he hits the sensitive spot nestled deep in your core. Jaskier runs his fingers through the braid, loosening it and letting the flowers cascade down over your breasts. “Gods,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

    Jaskier plants his feet and starts fucking up into you, hitting that bundle of nerves over and over again. Your climax approaches so quickly that it makes your head spin, only a thread of yourself left in the wave of your pleasure. His hips snap once, twice, and you’re gone. Your vision swims as you cry out his name, your fingers tightening in his hair and your legs quaking around him. 

    Jaskier follows close behind, spilling deep within you with a quiet moan of your name. You both breathe deeply, your hands roving over each other while you come down from the exorbitant high. The sounds of the fountain and fireflies are the only accompaniment to your pleasures, slow and soothing.

    You push yourself to sit on his thighs and Jaskier follows you, holding you close as he presses his lips to yours. His cock slips out of you and he reaches down to fit your smallclothes back into place, his spend trickling down your thigh. 

    “Now,” he murmurs between kisses, “what do you say we take this back to the bedroom?”

    You brush your nose against his before you stand, smoothing your dress back down. You hold out a hand and Jaskier takes it, rising to his feet before tucking himself back into his trousers. 

    The two of you hurry back to the castle, leaving a trail of honeysuckles in your wake. 

[officialbillhader]

Pool Boy (Macdennis)

Prompt: 80s AU where Dennis is a high power businessman and in a loveless marriage with his perfect wife Mandy, they live in a perfect mansion with their perfect children until Dennis gets feelings for their white trash pool cleaner with the beautiful brown eyes and bird that won’t quit. Fic is Notsfw! The nonsfw part is at the end. It also deals with cheating. Posted as chapter 17 of Now That I Found You (but it can be read as a stand alone). – “What’re the names of your family?” Frank points to the framed photo on his desk. 

Dennis thinks he should know by now considering they’ve been working together for a few years, but he digresses. Frank’s the type of dude to be petty enough to demote or fire Dennis for pointing that out.

“Wife is Mandy and the two children are Brian and Samantha." 

"Gorgeous family, huh?" 

"Oh, yeah. I’m very happy. Now, about the presentation tomorrow…”

***

It’s a fucking lie. He’s not happy, he hasn’t been happy since Mandy first got pregnant and all emotional and needy and suddenly he was expected to be a good husband and a good dad. Then Mandy got pregnant again and she was beyond excited but Dennis only became unhappier having to take care of a toddler and a pregnant wife, then a toddler and a baby, then he got his promotion and Dennis had them moved into a mansion just because they had the money to and it was easier to avoid his family in a bigger space. 

While all this happened, it was obvious that Mandy stopped loving him as much as he stopped loving her. She stopped trying to have sex, stopped trying to cuddle, stopped trying to talk about her day and his day. There’s a gap in the middle of their bed now, one that’s cold and unwrinkled. 

Now, he stays at work for as long as possible, working overtime each and every week, happiest when he comes home after dinner and the kids are already in bed. He’ll sit on the couch and drink beer until he knows Mandy is in their bed asleep, then he’ll go to bed. Sometimes Mandy will join him on the couch and give him updates about the house, but usually he ignores her until she goes away. 

Tonight is one of those nights. She plops down on the opposite side of the couch from him, her own beer in hand. He half-assedly greets her, then they’re silent for a long moment, staring at the TV, neither really watching it. 

Eventually, Mandy pipes up. “I hired a new pool cleaner. He’s coming on Saturday, but I’m going to be gone. Can you show him where the pool is?" 

Dennis grunts an agreement. "What time?" 

"Around nine, I think." 

"Okay.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go to bed, then. Goodnight, Dennis.” She doesn’t try to kiss him as she leaves. She stopped doing that long ago.

***

Saturday comes. Mandy wakes him up around eight, before she leaves, and reminds him to greet the pool cleaner. He doesn’t make any type of vocal response, but he also doesn’t go back to sleep. He gets up, takes a shower, gets dressed, then goes to the kitchen, only to find Samantha with her nanny. She yells out to him excitedly and runs towards him, being swooped into his arms with a hug. 

He loves his children. He truly does. But they don’t make him happy and they’re exhausting and if there’s one thing he’s learned in his life it’s that love can only go so far. 

Still, he ends up spending time with Samantha until he hears a knock on the front door and sends her back with her nanny. She protests, saying she wants to stay with him, but he doesn’t let her. Claims he has work to do, but, really, if he wanted to stay with her, he’d be able to.

He answers the door at the third time the bell is rung. He means to tell the pool boy off for being impatient, but his voice gets caught in his throat the moment he sees him. 

The pool boy is, surprisely, very attractive. He’s built well, he has soft eyes, a strong chin, floppy hair. He isn’t covered in dirt either, like Dennis subconsciously expected him to be. No, he’s actually quite clean and well groomed. Even his beard is trimmed exactly to fit his face shape.

“Sir?” Pool Boy says, concern on his face, and Dennis realizes Pool Boy’s been talking the entire time he’s been checking him out. 

“Oh, yeah– the pool,” he snaps out of it. “Follow me." 

***

Dennis watches Pool Boy work. It’s easy to do, after all. He sits out on the porch, lets the sun tan his skin, gets up and grabs a beer occasionally, and he watches as Pool Boy, well, cleans the pool. 

It’s a hard job. Mandy had fired their last pool cleaner back in the fall and hadn’t bothered to get a new one until now that it’s almost summer, so the pool never got any of the winter chemicals in it and was never drained of some of its water. It just sat, growing algea, for almost three whole seasons. Really, it needs to be entirely drained and scrubbed, but that’s for Pool Boy to figure out and do, not Dennis.

Right now he seems to be waiting as the pool drains water, looking at all his chemicals in the meantime and comparing them. 

Dennis finishes his third beer of the morning, afternoon, whatever. When he gets up to get another one, he figures he might as well offer Pool Boy some water or a beer or something. He calls out to him and Pool Boy nearly jumps out of his skin, running his head in circles before he finds the source of the sound. 

"Do you want anything to drink?” Dennis asks. 

Pool Boy seems hestitant to answer at first, then he seems to get over his nerves. “Can I have some water, Mr. Reynolds?” he requests. 

“Please, call me Dennis." 

Dennis can just barely see Pool Boy nod his head. 

***

"Thank you, Mr. Dennis.” He takes the bottle from him and drinks it down halfway, obviously a lot thirstier than he was willing to let on. 

Dennis wants to tell him that just Dennis is fine, but he doesn’t. It suddenly doesn’t seem worth it, not when Mr. Dennis makes his stomach do a flip like he’s a school girl.

Dennis doesn’t leave when he should, which happens to be right after he gives Pool Boy the water. No, he sticks around, and he makes it awkward, and then he makes it even more awkward when he clears his throat, utters a goodbye to Pool Boy, then turns on his heel and leaves.

***

He wasn’t awkward around Mandy. He wooed her like he wooed any other female, the only difference being that this time he was out of college and had the expectation of marriage and children placed on him, especially by his mother, who saw it as a fact of life that Dennis would grow up and give her grandchildren. Dennis knew she never actually cared much for grandchildren, she just cared about what grandchildren meant for her in society. That she’s not behind all her other rich friends, that she’s worthy of grandchildren, whatever.

She died before she could meet Brian. She never even saw Mandy get pregnant. Not that Dennis cared, really, but it did kind of ruin the whole experience of giving his mom grandchildren.

And it made him realize that he’s not sure if he ever actually loved Mandy in the first place. He loved the idea of having a wife, of having children, of giving his mom grandchildren, of having children before his sister, and he tricked himself into believing he loved Mandy, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy to marry her, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy when Brian was born, when Samantha was born. He tricked himself into loving Mandy, really, loving her until the well went dry and he couldn’t love her anymore, for one reason or another.

He thinks she loved him. He did woo her, after all. He got her to say yes. He got her to get pregnant twice. He knows she doesn’t love him anymore, though. It’s obvious with everything they do. He’s surprised she hasn’t moved to one of the vacant guest rooms in the house, or made him move.

He doesn’t know where their relationship is heading. A divorce, most likely, one as messy as his parent’s divorce, one that’s going to traumatize his children like his parent’s divorce traumatized him and his sister, but he can’t bring himself to care. The moment he cares, the moment it will seem real. The moment he cares, the moment he knows he fucked up his life by getting down one on knee and smiling when she said yes.

***

It’s really easy to watch Pool Boy, Dennis learns. Pool Boy is here every weekend and only the weekends because apparently he has some other job over the week, which Dennis is fine with, because he’s only home during the weekends anyway.

Pool Boy knows that Dennis is watching him because Dennis brings him a new bottle of water every time he finishes one. He doesn’t mention it, only thanks him, makes small talk, then goes back to his work and Dennis goes back to the deck. The pattern repeats until Pool Boy finishes for the day. It goes on for weeks.

To Dennis’s dismay, the pool is getting cleaner and cleaner with each passing weekend. Of course, the pool always needs new chemicals and always needs to be vacuumed, so Pool Boy’s job is never actually over, but, once the pool is clean, there’s no reason for him to spend the whole day at the house. He’ll only have to come over every Saturday, check the chemical levels, do what needs to be done, then leave.

So as the weekends dwindle, Dennis starts to slip Pool Boy tips along with the water bottles, which Pool Boy takes without a word. Dennis sees it as an incentive for Pool Boy not to forget about him, but Pool Boy does what Dennis doesn’t expect.

Pool Boy starts to tease him.

The teasing starts miniscule. The shirt he wears is tighter, subtly showing off his muscles, and he isn’t as adamant on pulling up his shorts when they ride down his hips, and he doesn’t care much about getting wet.

It’s killing Dennis. Pool Boy was attractive dressed decently, let alone this. He doesn’t know how much more he can take before he pounces.

***

Pool Boy takes off his shirt today, which is enough to send Dennis feral, but then he makes eye contact with him, and he fucking winks. No shame to it, just a clear as day wink.

Then he goes back to working as if he did nothing.

Dennis tries to make himself believe that he didn’t actually see the wink, but he can’t. He knows what he saw. He knows that he’s being flirted with like there’s no tomorrow, like he’s not married.

At the end of the day, when he goes to ask Pool Boy how much longer it’ll be before the pool is ready, he slips a hundred-dollar bill in his hand.

***

Mandy knows he spends the weekends outside. She can tell when the freckles on his shoulders come out, he can tell when his skin becomes three shades darker. She can tell when she doesn’t find him on a couch in a room hidden from the children, TV on, beer in his head, eyes glazed over.

When she finds where he’s been hanging out outside, just on the deck, no less, she knows what he’s doing. She finds the Pool Boy attractive herself.

She didn’t know her husband swung that way, though.

She’s hurt, of course, her husband is staring at a man behind her back, but what is she going to do about it? Throw a fit, get the children involved, go stay with her mother? She knows what she got into a year after marrying Dennis. She figured out quickly that she would never be treated right while she was with him. She did nothing about it then and she does nothing about it now.

She lets him have his weekends with the pool boy.

***

Pool Boy is fucking killing him.

He’s stayed faithful in his marriage, but he can’t anymore. Not with how Pool Boy looks at him when Dennis hands over the water, sultry eyes, sweat shining on his forehead, dry kissable lips. Not with how Pool Boy never wears a shirt anymore, not with how he seems to have forgotten his underwear, not with how he has a package that he doesn’t mind Dennis looking at.

Dennis can see it because he’s moved much closer to the pool than the deck. He’s still not at the pool, per se, but he’s only a few feet from it. He brought out a chair and set it up on the grass and he leaves it out, told the gardeners to not touch it, so it’s always there, ready for him.

The sun is hot today so Pool Boy is going through more water than he normally does, but that’s okay because Dennis has long since kept a cooler filled with beer and water by his feet.

The next time Dennis gives Pool Boy a bottle of water, his hand lingers. It’s hot against Dennis’s hand and the condensated bottle. Their eyes meet. The sexual tension builds up farther than it’s ever been so far, and Dennis panics. He clutches down on the bottle, feeling all the air push at the lid, threatening to make it pop off.

“Mr. Dennis,” Pool Boy mumbles.

“Yes?” Dennis responds. His grip on the bottle doesn’t loosen.

“Can you let go of the bottle?”

Dennis snaps out of it. His hand falls by his side and dangles uselessly and suddenly he’s more embarrassed than he should be. He can feel his cheeks start to warm up and he hopes that Pool Boy will just think that the heat is getting to him.

Pool Boy smiles, drinks some of the water, then places it on the ground by his feet. He turns around and gestures at the pool.

“It’s gotten pretty clean, huh, Mr. Dennis?”

“Yeah,” Dennis responds numbly, because he’s not looking at the pool. He’s looking at the way Pool Boy’s muscles twitch and move as he moves his arm and shoulder, how sweat makes the tan skin shine.

Dennis has always liked how smooth a woman’s back is, has never paid much attention to what the muscles look like when they’re defined, but as he looks at Pool Boy, he can’t even picture what a woman’s back looks like. Sure, he likes Mandy’s back, wouldn’t have married her if there was something he didn’t like about her body, but him liking Pool Boy’s back feels difference. It feels much more natural to like his back, like he isn’t trying to foce himself to like something he simply can’t. 

He shakes those thoughts away. Too heavy. 

“It should be done in another week or two." 

Dennis’s heart speeds up. "No!” he yells out before he can stop himself. Pool Boy turns and looks at him with wide eyes and Dennis has to restrain himself from fidgeting. “Sorry, I meant– it doesn’t look too clean does it?" 

Pool Boy gives it a once over, then looks at Dennis like he’s crazy. 

"I’ve scrubbed the whole thing, Mr. Dennis. It’s almost sparkling." 

Yeah, it is. Dennis clears his throat. 

He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s always been smooth and relaxed around anyone he’s ever wanted to sleep with. He was even smooth and relaxed when he proposed to Mandy. How he’s acting now is unlike him and, frankly, upsetting. 

"I guess,” he hesitates. “I guess, just, go home early. Take the rest of the day off." 

Pool Boy has concern written over his face. His cheeks are pink and it must be because of the heat, not because Dennis is doing a good job flirting. 

"Really, Mr. Dennis?" 

"Really." 

Pool Boy has good teeth, Dennis notices.

***

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. After sending Pool Boy home, he took a hot shower and he changed into clean clothes and he most certaintly avoided thinking about shirtless Pool Boy.

Now he sits on his couch and he waits for whoever-the-fuck cooks dinner for him and his fanily to come tell him that there’s food, only for him to respond that he doesn’t want to eat, partly because he doesn’t like eating and partly because he doesn’t want to see his family. 

If he could, he’d walk out of this life right now and carve a new one with Pool Boy. 

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t be so nervous around him. He shouldn’t shake and hesitate and stutter. Really, he’s Pool Boy’s superior. So what if he’s attractive? So what if he allows Dennis to escape this life he hates? So what if Dennis wants to wrap his arms around his waist and feel his floppy brown hair at his neck as his lips travel down? So what about any of it? 

It all feels different. Less out of Dennis’s control than ever. 

***

Mac knows that what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be flirting with a married man. But he also knows he can’t stop. 

It’s easy. Mr. Dennis eats it up and purposely eggs him on, whether he knows he does it or not. Although, he definitely knew what he was doing when he started slipping Mac money. 

Mac felt dirty once that started. He told himself he’d stop his flirting. That went to shit the moment he saw Mr. Dennis the next day. Mr. Dennis wasn’t wearing one of his long-sleeved button ups and jeans, no, he was wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and basketball shorts. It made sense considering it had gone up fifteen degrees over night, but still unexpected. Even more unexpected was Dennis’s unstyled curls. Up until that point he had slicked back his hair, but along with his more relaxed outfit, his hair was also relaxed. He looked even more gorgeous like that. 

So without much thought, Mac started to tease him. And he had fun doing it. He liked seeing how Mr. Dennis had to tear his eyes away everytime Mac looked at him. He liked the lingering hand touches and the subconscious lick lipping. 

It made him feel good, no matter how bad he’d feel the moment his eye caught the sun’s reflection off Mr. Dennis’s wedding ring. No matter how many times he got home and went through the week and told himself like a mantra that he wouldn’t flirt anymore, he still did it. 

And it became worse. His ability to not flirt, that is. 

The first time he took off his shirt, he cursed himself for it. 

And then he winked at Mr. Dennis and somehow it was worse and better all at once. He felt justified for taking off his shirt when he saw the blush spread across Mr. Dennis’s cheeks, when he averted his eyes. He probably doesn’t think Mac saw it, but he saw Mr. Dennis adjust his pants. 

At the end of the day, Mr. Dennis gives him a hundred dollars. He keeps it because it helps him pay the bills, but he doesn’t feel good about it. 

Most of the time, he confesses his sins. He goes to the church and he kneels in the pews until his knees hurt and he keeps his hands clasped together until they’re sore and he repeats his sins until they don’t feel real. 

But the cycle repeats. 

***

He doesn’t let go of the water bottle. He can’t. At this point, it’d seem like a crime to do so. Pool Boy looks at him with wide, blown eyes. Their fingers are touching and while Dennis’s are soft, Pool Boy’s are rough and calloused. 

"I…” Dennis starts, then stops. He licks his lips and Pool Boy watches him as he does it. 

“Yeah,” Pool Boy says. 

Dennis hates that he’s hard. He has no reason to be hard. He’s been touching Pool Boy’s hand for weeks now, so what’s so different about this moment? 

Everything is different about this moment. 

Dennis leans in. Pool Boy lets him. Their eyes meet, then their lips. It’s sudden, but not surprising. He knew it was coming when he first looked at Pool Boy. He knew their relationship would build until it couldn’t anymore and then it’d snap and they’d be doing things that they shouldn’t be doing.

Dennis lets the water bottle fall to the ground and he wraps his arms around Pool Boy’s waist and pulls him closer. Pool Boy lets out a moan of surprise, but he falls into the gesture easily. Dennis knows he can feel his hard on through his shorts, but he doesn’t care. Let Pool Boy know how he feels. Besides, Pool Boy doesn’t pull back. In fact, he deepens the kiss, apparentally just as excited as Dennis is to do… whatever it is their doing. 

They’re gonna have sex, Dennis decides. 

He breaks the kiss and tugs on Pool Boy’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says, and Pool Boy does. 

They end up in one of the rooms in the guest house. Dennis is pretty sure he’s never even been to this part of the house, but Mandy had made sure all the bedrooms had beds when they bought the house. He thinks she hired some furnishing company, but he doesn’t remember. 

Once they enter the room, Pool Boy hestitates in the door. He looks nervous, he twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip. 

Honestly, he looks adorable.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Dennis? You’re married.” His eyes flick to Dennis’s wedding band, and suddenly the ring is burning his skin. He twists the ring off and throws it across the room to who-knows-where.

“Yes. I want to do this.” His lips meet Pool Boy’s again, slow and soft and chaste. Pool Boy returns the kiss. He lets go and rests his forehead on Pool Boy’s. “I haven’t loved Man–”

“I don’t want to know her name,” Pool Boy interrupts. 

“Okay. I haven’t loved her in years. I’m making this decision, not you. Don’t worry,” Dennis says, softly. Pool Boy relaxes and initiates the next kiss. All doubts seem to leave his mind after Dennis’s words and he pushes Dennis towards the bed, taking small steps until the back of Dennis’s knees hit the edge of the bed. He folds down on the bed and Mac climbs on top of him, kissing all the while. 

Dennis breaks apart to take off his shirt and scoot to the head board. He beckons Pool Boy back over to him with a hand gesture and Pool Boy happily scrambles back to lavish his body. Dennis thinks he’s going to come back to his lips, but, no, he goes to his neck and starts kissing and sucking on it, sending shivers down Dennis’s body. He can’t remember the last time he had sex, and he’s not sure it’s ever felt this electrifying before. 

He lets Pool Boy stay at his neck for a few seconds, but he doesn’t want any marks, so he gently pushes his head away and he captures his lips once Pool Boy looks at him to see what’s wrong. 

“No marks,” he whispers against Pool Boy’s lips. 

“Okay,” he responds. 

Dennis delicately kisses the side of Pool Boy’s mouth and absolutely melts when he feels Pool Boy let out a small puff of air, a quiet whine buried underneath. 

“How do you want to do this, baby boy?" 

"Maybe I could suck you off?" 

Dennis smiles, puts his hands on Pool Boy’s back, lets him feel the smooth skin. "Of course,” he says. 

He lets his hand float above his back as Pool Boy lowers himself down to Dennis’s crotch, taking breaks as he goes down to pay attention to Dennis’s bare chest. He’s careful to leave no marks, but the butterfly kisses are still enough to send Dennis’s stomach flipping. 

Pool Boy mouths over his hard cock, still in the basketball shorts. The only saving grace is he’s not wearing any underwear, but, still, he’s desperate to get the show on the road. His hips buck up a few inches and it makes Pool Boy dig his fingers into the curve of Dennis’s hips to help keep him still.

“C'mon, Mac,” Dennis whines. The name slips out. He doesn’t know where it comes from, or if it’s right, but, at the name, Pool Boy pulls down Dennis’s basketball shorts until they’re resting just under his cock, letting it spring out. 

Dennis decides Mac is the right name. He must have read it on some name tag or something. 

He ignores the fact that he knows Mac never wore a name tag. 

Mac takes Dennis’s cock in his hand and he keeps it in his fist as he takes his balls in his mouth. His other hand is back on Dennis’s hip and his fingertips are digging into the thin flesh there, and it starts to hurt, but Dennis doesn’t care. He had forgotten how good it feels to have a mouth on him, hot and wet and enthusiastic. 

It takes everything in him to not choke Mac with his cock. Absolutely everything. 

Soon enough, Mac takes his hand away from his shaft and begins to dig into his other hip just as hard, but Dennis still doesn’t care because now Mac’s mouth is on the tip of his cock. He kisses down it, starting on the head and going down until he reaches the base. Slowly, way too slowly, he starts to put the entire thing in his mouth. 

When he gets halfway down, Dennis groans out his name and he wraps his hands in Mac’s greasy hair and he tugs. He’s hestitant at first, but Mac doesn’t pull off and tell him to stop, so he takes it as a good sign. He helps ease Mac the rest of the way down until he’s deepthroating him and Mac must have had practice before because he’s doing it so smoothly. 

A flair of jealousy shoots through him as he thinks about all the other men Mac’s been with. He pushes Mac down farther until he’s almost choking, until Dennis can feel the back of his throat flexing against him, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt anything more satisfying. He holds him there for a moment, but then Mac’s grip on his hips tightens and he lets him go. Mac pulls off and starts to cough while taking deep breaths. There are tears in his eyes. 

Dennis expects to be yelled at, but it doesn’t come. Mac calms down and is right back on him and Dennis absolutely groans. 

Mac’s tongue can work wonders, Dennis learns. He doesn’t need to be deepthroated to feel this good. All he needs is Mac’s tongue. 

It isn’t long before his hips are twitching and his stomach is burning and he’s uttering a warning to Mac before Mac pulls off and lets Dennis cum over his face. Even as Dennis is finishing, Mac is licking his cock through the twitches, not caring where the cum is landing. 

When Dennis is coherent enough after his orgasm, he is pulling Mac’s face to his own and he’s kissing him as hard as he possibly can, teeth clacking together and his own cum spreading from Mac’s face to his as well. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is Mac tastes like him and he tastes amazing, especially off of Mac’s lips. 

“How do you want to finish, baby boy?” he whispers against Mac’s cheek, then licks a bit of the cum off there. He feels Mac shiver. 

“Just touch me, Mr. Dennis." 

Mac calling him Mr. Dennis while still covered in his release sends his stomach rolling. 

Mac has been rolling his hips across Dennis’s thigh this whole time, desperately searching for friction, but Dennis calmly tells him to stop and rubs his back in comfort. Mac whimpers, but does as he’s told. 

"So good for me,” Dennis mumbles. 

“Good for you,” Mac repeats. 

Dennis grips Mac’s ass cheeks through his pants, then he brings his hands back up and gently pulls his pants down past his ass. He doesn’t care to take them fully off in the same way Mac didn’t care to get his off. 

Besides, he was right about Mac not wearing underwear. It makes it all easier. 

He’s quick to get Mac’s cock in his hand, doesn’t daddle before he’s rubbing his hot palm in circles over the head. Mac is much noisier than he was and much more desperate, apparentally getting off just by pleasuring Dennis. 

That’s hot. 

It doesn’t take much finesse to get Mac to finish all over Dennis’s stomach. His body jerks and he moans and he holds himself up with shaky muscles. 

When he’s done, he collapses, his head on Dennis’s chest. He’s breathing heavily, but so is Dennis. The air is hot and reeks of sex. They’re both covered in sweat. 

Dennis cards his hands back into Mac’s hair and he starts to play with it. Mac relaxes into the touch, letting a sigh come out. 

They’re quiet for a long time and Mac is almost asleep when Dennis speaks up. 

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. There’s no toiletries, but we can at least wash off." 

"Mhm,” Mac responds against his chest. 

***

Mac leaves and confesses his sins right after.

Mandy sees the bruises on Dennis’s hips but says nothing about it.

Dennis waits for the next time Pool Boy comes over.

[kinkinwrites]

Pink Colored Love ~ Ramuda Amemura [Angst/Fluff]

Warning: idk bro, you tell me, it’s just really sad. Also, it’s after the most recent Drama Track, Fling Posse before the 2nd DRB, so I recommend listening to that first if you haven’t, but you do you boo.

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

He breathed out the smoke from his lungs, the smell of cigarette impregnating his clothes. Out of the window of his apartment, he could see his beloved Shibuya. It was early in the afternoon so the streets were bursting with people, every single one of them living their lives without a care about what those above them could do. With one last puff, he pressed the lighted tip of the thin stick cancer against the ashtray.

It was completely unacceptable for his works to smell bad, so he always had to be careful to keep the smoke outside of his home and he did that by standing beside the wide open windows. Sighing, he used the remaining of his strength to close said window and move to the couch, kicking his feet on top of the coffee table. His entire body felt numb from the fight against himself, damn it, Chou-ku had managed to create subjects who were way stronger than he could ever be. They didn't have a single thread of humanity, unlike him they were perfect machines. 

A mix of guilt and something less bitter but more painful filled his chest. He couldn't put a name to it, that sensation, that feeling that had awoken inside of him the second that stupid duo stepped in to help, the moment Gentaro called him his friend. Ramuda's eyes fluttered closed. His delicate hands reached inside of his pockets to retrieve and unwrap one of the various lollipops Dice had found inside the jackets of the clones. The other clones, his brain didn't fail to remind him. He was no better than them… Actually, he was the failed experiment.

He had always hated it in silence. His cute face, his small and skinny body. He was a twenty-four year old man trapped inside the body of a child. It didn't matter how many women he fucked, he never came to terms with how disgusting it was every time he stood in front of the mirror. He wasn't a child for God's sake. Why couldn't he be like Samatoki? Or Ichiro? Or… God damn, he would settle for someone like Dice! And that child-like attitude he had to keep to make everything work like they needed him to… 

His blue eyes opened. And although he couldn't see himself, he knew their reflection showed how all he was could fall to pieces at any moment. Bringing an arm up to his face to choke the sobs that threatened to fall out of his lips, he used his free hand to pick up his phone. Well, the phone Gentaro so gently gave him after he smashed his own. It wasn't an issue really, he knew this number by heart and he needed it now.

You continued to climb the stairs that lead to the top designer's apartment. Were all the other floors sold when he came or was it his Napoleonic complex? Anyways, you were out of breath as you quickly jogged the last dozen steps. Ramuda Amemura was one of your frequent clients and although you weren't exactly fond of him when he wanted to play the idiot, he could afford your fees and then some. However, something felt terribly wrong as you picked up the phone, even though it wasn't unusual for him to call you out of the blue, he didn't use his usual playful tone and when he tried to call you "big sis" it felt off, like he was tired of playing pretend.

In your line of work it was part of your daily routine to deal with broken men and women that looked desperately for leftovers. Leftovers of whatever love they could get. But it sure wasn't something you had ever expected Ramuda to do. He already owned the hearts of multiple ladies with cleaner resumes than yours. You knocked twice instead of ringing the bell. "Come in." 

You gulped at the sound of his deep voice but decided to enter anyway. Pieces of fabric thrown everywhere, cigarette butts filling the multiple ashtrays scattered around the room, candy wrappers on the floor… what on Earth had happened to him? People could argue that you shouldn't care and that with the filthy job you had maybe it'd be a better use of your time to worry about yourself, but you had left society expectations behind long ago. In this fucked up world even someone like the pink haired man, who was lying on the sofa, could go up in flames and become nothing but dust in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't even bothered to look up at you. Head thrown back onto the backrest, both arms covering his face, the end of a lollipop stick sticking out of his closed lips. You took your sweet time taking off your jacket and shoes, leaving everything by the door before tiptoeing around the small pieces of plastic paper that covered every inch of the normally tidy apartment. Although you didn't bring it up to your conscience, you kept note of the unusual deep breaths Ramuda took, and the way his whole body trembled when he exhaled. 

"Can you prepare a bath for me, please?" His voice albeit shaky was clear enough for you to make sure you hadn't misheard. He was asking for it, not ordering you around. Yes, sir, you could. Making your way around the sofa to reach the bathroom door, you made a strategic stop behind him. Both your hands reached down to his arms, slowly moving them down his face. To your surprise he didn't offer any resistance which, to be honest, only fueled your theory of    something being wrong with him. You had never seen the short male look this tired. 

As soon as the idea came to life in your mind, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead in a soft loving kiss. "I'll get the bath ready, you can relax here Mr. Amemura." His body seemed to stop shaking for a moment as a smile you couldn’t see creeped up his lips. “Don’t call me that.” But he liked it. You could hear the tension leaving him.

Warm, not hot. You swatted your hand slowly inside the half filled bathtub to check the temperature once again before closing the tap, the water tainted a soft pink. Without taking a moment to dry your hands, you stripped off your clothes and covered your naked body with one of the multiple satin bathrobes Ramuda kept in the bathroom.

When he heard you were done preparing his bath, the young man stood up, taking a moment to stretch his sore body before dragging his tired self next to you. He looked up at you for a moment trying to find a reason why it was your face, the one that came to mind when the world spinned out of control. At the end of the day you were just another girl on his bed… even more, he paid for you to be here. Why you, then?

Like almost everyone else, you were taller than him but he didn’t mind it. You were pretty but not like the models that tried on his works and posed for the cameras, you were attractive in a different way. He could recite by heart every single detail about your body yet he never got bored of it. You were a professional, he reminded himself, of course it was part of your duties to keep him hooked. Still, he caressed your cheek with the back of his hands, letting his fingers trail down to your chin.

Maybe it was stupid of him, maybe he should transfer the yen and tell you to go, maybe he should resort to the usual service, to tie you down and have his way but… that sweet bitterness he felt stopped him. You saw his eyes grow teary and tired and just a little bit hopeless. Your hands trembled but your skilful fingers worked through his clothes, taking off his blue coat, putting aside his white shirt and helping him with his black pants and underwear. As you straightened up after picking up his bottoms from the floor, you felt his arms around your waist. 

He didn’t want you to see, not yet. Ramuda’s bright eyes were closed as he buried his head in the space where your collarbones met, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the rose smell that came from the tub. Almost without realizing it, you found yourself threading through his soft pink locks. You were almost afraid of talking, of moving, of breathing in any way that could finally shatter what was left of him.

“Close your eyes for me?” The barely audible whisper made your heart ache but you obeyed nonetheless. He slowly raised up his head, making sure you weren’t looking and only then letting go of you. His hands made quick work of the bathrobe and tugged gently at your wrist, guiding you in the direction of the tub, making its way to your waist as he helped you sit down in the water. “Please, keep them closed.” He asked- no, begged you. He didn’t want you to see, he couldn’t bear to let you see a body that wasn’t that of a man.

He took a moment to admire the scene before his eyes and it took all of him not to break down in tears. You looked so calm, so serene, so… beautiful. The water pooling around your body, your head resting against the wall, your hair slowly getting wet from the dampness in the air around you. Maybe this was the reason he kept on calling your number, not minding how much money he had to throw away. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t see him as an ex-member of The Dirty Dwag, or the leader of Fling Posse, or even a fashion designer. No, you only saw a man. You saw past his walls, you saw the broken man inside cause maybe, just maybe, you were broken too. 

You rejoiced in the comfort of the bath for a moment, when you felt him enter the tub as well. His breath hitched, as if the simple effort of keeping his balance was too much for him but without receiving his orders, you kept still. You didn’t want to do anything that could potentially hurt him. But why in the world did you care about him? Tears stung your closed eyes at the feeling of him slowly resting his back on your chest, the back of his head finding the perfect spot on your shoulder. He moved your hands towards his torso, your brain picking up fast enough on it and holding him between your arms, a long sigh escaping his lips to be followed by the almost imperceptible trembling of his entire body as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“(Y/N)?” He muttered, between quiet sobs. You hummed in response, your heart breaking at the loss of his playful tone. There weren’t many things Ramuda was truly scared of, probably part of how he was programmed to be, and probably this one fear was the failure in his coding. The terrified faces of Gentaro and Dice filled his thoughts again, the fear they felt not by being in danger but by the possibility of losing him. 

As if he was worth the sacrifice.

He was nothing but a weapon. And useless weapons are supposed to be disposed of. A whimper crept unbidden out of his throat, making you spill the tears you were trying to keep at bay. In his pain, the real Ramuda had stepped out of his persona. He shifted his position so he could hug you as well, holding onto you like you were the only thing that kept him in this world. And for him, you were. He pressed an innocent kiss to each one of your cheeks, and then to each one of your eyelids, a sign you took to open your eyes. “(Y/N)...” He repeated.

He had accepted those feelings in his chest long ago but refused to put a name to them, he wasn’t supposed to feel them in the first place and name them would make them real. But when push came to shove, he wasn’t truly scared of dying. And he was certain that was also the case for everyone else. No one could stop death and therefore there was no point in fearing it, what feared was losing it all. Losing the world, losing his newfound emotions before having the chance to truly feel them all. His fear wasn’t dying, it was never getting the chance to live.

His turquoise orbs fluttered shut as his thin lips pressed a tender kiss to yours. Contrary to what you usually expected his touch was soft, like you were an illusion that could vanish in front of his eyes. Warmth filled your chest and this side of him. If only… no, it was impossible, he was just a client and- Ramuda interrupted your train of thought by licking your bottom lip oh-so-gently, just a touch of the tip of his tongue. His small but sure voice coming right after.

“Please… love me.”

[lordseochangbin]

Do you think you could write a rich kid!reader x pool cleaner hyunjin smut?? I just thought of the idea and my legs immediately felt like jelly dndkddkdk

not the only thing that’s wet- hhj

a/n: so this came out longer than expected sksk. also i wanted to add some humor(not even sure if it’s funny) but just know anything said abt the members is fictional lmfaoo. hope you enjoy !

——

“i swear to god.. i just need some fucking hot ass man to take my virginity! like how hard is it?? im rich, im sexy, im pretty?? now how hard is it to find a guy?!” you ranted out to your friends ruby and lea.

the two girls watched you pace around the room, “y/n, how about we make a list?!” lea suggested.

you turned around in excitement, “a list?! hmm throw out some names”

lea took out her phone, the three of you left to think about some of the finest men at your school.

“bang chan” lea threw out.

“oh my god no! he’s too much, i heard he fucked this girl till she cummed 7 times” ruby said

“7 TIMES?!” you and lea exclaimed. fuck, bang chan. you could only imagine dating him, but maybe not for a first time.

“ok... kim seungmin?” lea threw out.

“you mean small dick?” ruby retorted.

“how do you know that?” you asked ruby, actually curious. you received quite the obvious laugh in response, as if ruby was taken way back to when she was once in love with one of the cutest boys in the academy.

you pushed your custom made louie vuitton purse to the side, making room to sit down and contemplate about any other guy at your school.

“how about han jisung??” lea suggested once more.

ruby covered her mouth in shock, “oh no no no, that guy is too kind to just fuck around. plus i called dibs on him awhile ago”

you and lea kept eye contact, dropping your head in disappointment as another guy was crossed off the list.

“ruby.. who do you think would best suit for me?”

ruby looked up to the roof, her mind elsewhere as it always seemed to be. you loved ruby and lea, growing up with the two girls being honestly the biggest blessing you could ask for. but ruby was of a different character. one day she’d talk about the ingredients in a mcnugget and the next she’d be rambling about how pink is a sexy color for lingerie. lea and you seemed to be the closest however, she was always there for you no matter what and you loved her more than anything.

“i say.. lets go online and find some random stranger to set you up with. boom. we’ll pay him and just hope and pray that he’s some hot 18 y/o” ruby replied, putting her hands together to “pray” to the lord(seo changbin)

“ruby...” lea pushed her a little so she could snap out of her position, “that’s a terrible idea” the three of you bursted into laughter

when the laughing died down, you got up from your seat shrugging your shoulders as your walked out to your clear glass windows. “but guys, i really don’t know. should i just wait? i am ‘daddys rich little angel’ anyways” you replied sarcastically.

lea rolled her eyes, grabbing your ray banz glasses and throwing them on you. “cheer up okay? we’re gonna make this happen i swear”

ruby popped up on your right, grabbing your hand and petting it. “don’t worry, god gave us one life, and we should live it with faith. faith that we will live to see a wet pen-”

“RUBY-” lea interrupted.

“it’s alright guys” you patted both of their shoulders, “it’s not like some attractive guy is just gonna show up out of nowhere”

you smiled at the two girls who did an amazing job of cheering you up before opening the glass doors to the patio of your mansion home. taking a few steps outside, you noticed a white truck pull into the driveway. your dad waiting by the pool as a boy wearing simply a white tee, blue ripped jeans, and sport shoes came out.

“holy shit” lea cursed under her breath

all three of your jaws dropped as the boy walked towards your father, a hand brushing through his luscious black hair as the wind passed by him with perfect timing.

you lowered down your expensive glasses to get a better look of him, “now who may this fine fellow be”

ruby smirked, “i bet his weewee is the size of-”

“ruby, what is up with you and dicks today i swear to god” lea questioned, all attention that was once on the pretty boy now concerned for your friend

“im sorryyy” ruby sarcastically replied, “i just know a good one when i see one” she said, sending a wink your way.

“who is he?” lea asked as you watched your dad point at the pool

“how much you wanna bet he’s some rich guys son who’s complimenting his pool right now?” ruby asked

“none.. look at his hands. cleaning supplies” you replied.

“y/n!! that fine ass man... he’s your pool cleaner” lea called out to your attention.

————

your dad knocked on the door before welcoming himself in. “hey girls, im off to a meeting. do you need money for lunch?”

“no that’s alright, they were just leaving” you replied

“we were?” ruby replied. you turned around to give ruby the death stare before ruby could continue, “oh yes!! we are QUITE busy mr.y/l/n!”

“i see...” you father responded, “ well y/n if you’re home alone i just want to let you know that there’s a pool cleaner outside working. im off”

your dad closed the door before you could drop the blanket you covered yourself with. “that was close” lea responded from behind you as you threw on a robe to cover up your swimming suit.

“so close.. now should i try this out?”

“go for it, we’re upstairs if you need us” lea said, joining ruby on your bed and turning on the tv. you took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to talk to the boy and eventually finding yourself in front of him speechless.

“hey... were you planning on going in the pool?” he asked, puppy eyes almost shining under the summer sun as he looked at you apologetically, “im cleaning it right now but you can dip your feet at the least” he suggested.

you found yourself awestruck at how handsome he was.. his arms, his jet black hair, his perfect jawline, and the way his white tee stuck to his washboard abs.

“yeah.. sure” you managed to let out in a shaky voice.

the boy continued with his business despite your arrival, making your frustrated due to lack of discussion. minutes seemed to pass quickly and it made you impatient.

“so what do you find attractive in a girl?” you asked, turning to the boy

he rose his eyebrows at the sudden interrogation. “a girl.. hmm. maybe a girl who’s a tease? likes to flirt? sexy?” he laughed as he threw a towel over his shoulder

“hmm..” you hummed to yourself, kicking your feet in the water. “and what’s your name?”

“my name? i think i told your dad already, it’s hyunjin”

from there, your two friends were able to finish two films, curious about your whereabouts but scared to check outside knowing your intentions. but that wasn’t the real reason you two took so long, once the conversation started to speed up you’d learned that hyunjin was a college student trying to make extra cash to pay off his tuition by cleaning pools. he sat down as well, his jeans rolled up so his feet were kicking beside yours.

“so hyunjin... like you said. you like girls that are attractive, sexy, and flirty?” you asked

“why? you think you have all three of those? maybe you hit attractive and sexy at the least” he replied, earning a splash of water to his face.

“stop! your gonna get my hair wet” he replied, laughed at your sudden lash of anger

“im sure your hair isn’t the only thing that’s wet” you replied, placing a hand on his knee. the sudden affection made his plush lips part, a perfect situation for you to jump on his lap. and that’s exactly what you did

“y/n” he moaned as your lips clashed together with his. your legs found themselves wrapped around his, your position slowly making your robe tie loosen and revealing a pretty red swimsuit inside.

“do you find me attractive now?” you whispered into his ear as you tugged onto his hair, exposing the pretty surface of his neck to place kisses on

“so fucking sexy y/n.. please” he muttered as you left marks on his flawless skin

his hands wrapped themselves around your waist before you two could slip into the pool.

“shit- y/n im so sorry” he said as carried you to the seated area of the pool before combing his wet locks with his fingers

“its okay” you gasped in relief, catching your breath as you sat on his lap again.

hyunjin smirked as you slowly removed the robe, making him pull off his shirt to pull you closer

“now look at us babygirl, a pretty wet mess” he said, pushing a piece of stranded hair to the side before places kisses down your neck. he left marks from your jaw to your chest, throwing the swimsuit off as his fingers toyed with each nipple. your hands tugged at his wet jeans as he slowly pulled them off, leaving you both with nothing- just as you had planned.

you wrapped your hands around hyunjins neck, rolling your hips against his member as sinful moans left his lips. soon you felt his member stretch passed your wet folds making you dig your nails into his pure skin

“y/n... we just met today and you’re making me-”

you bit his bottom lip making him whimper. the friction was hard to handle even when you were underwater, the water made it easy for hyunjin to pull in and out of your pussy at rapid pace.

god, was this amazing. especially considering it was your first time and you needed it to be as easy as it could get. you blessed whatever deity up there for making such a handsome man like hyunjin and for making him a pool cleaner out of all things, sex in your pool was so much more hotter (ironically) than it seemed.

and at last, when you were ready to release you let you let go of hyunjins lips. “this feeling...” you whispered, “hyunjin i think im gonna cum” hyunjin grabbed your waists with a tight grip, making you bounce up and down on his member at an unbelievably fast pace.

“let’s cum together baby” he said, pushing you into a deep kiss

and before you knew it you were coming inside him, your first experience not ending just there as he reached his high slowly after

“hyunjin”you panted, grabbing your robe from behind him.

“thank you” you continued, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“you planned this all along huh? to prove you were sexy, i love it” hyunjin replied, grabbing your robe and throwing it somewhere far away.

your ass rested on his cock as he felt your legs wrap tighter around him “if you’re really thankful, then let’s just stay like this?” he asked

“deal” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder as you feel asleep in the lukewarm water.

[elizabeth-234]

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Five: Honey Bear and Tony to the Rescue 

Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Here is day six of Whumptober: "Stop Please" and our 6th chapter of this story. It's a day late in my posting schedule but I finished the rough draft of all the chapters so it should be regular from now on.

warning: mentions of character death

Chapter Six: Dreams

There were leather restraints around his wrists connecting to the wall behind him. Peter was in the center of the room, about five steps from the door, but it could have been a million miles and it wouldn’t have made any difference. If there was no lock and the door was opened wide, he wouldn’t have left.

Smoke filtered through the gaps and crevices in the walls. It snacked on along the ground, gaining momentum and building higher. Peter got to his legs and tried to stand on the cement seat under him but the cuffs restricted his movement. The smoke climbed higher and higher, and he strained his face up to the cleaner air but every breath added a new layer thick smog coating his lungs. His eyes watered and his throat closed. He was so lightheaded he fainted, his arms were behind him tugging on the restraints. Peter fell into darkness.

He was floating. No, he was falling. Air breezed around him. Its gusts billowed through his clothes and into his skin. The temperature of this weightless atmosphere chilled him to the bone. The ground rose up to greet him; fast until nothing could stop it. His arms flailed around. He tried to grab onto something but he was alone. They moved forward in hopes of bracing his fall and Peter’s breath was knocked out of him on impact. With a groan he curled into himself. It was a pitiful attempt to protect himself. He blinked and the emptiness was gone.

Peter was lying on the floor in his living room. Footsteps moved down the hallway slow and heavy. He sat up, sending stars in his vision, and moved away from the intruder as fast as he could. His back collided with the couch but he forced himself to still.

May walked in with a bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“What are you doing down there, sweetheart?” She said indicating with a nod his crouched position on the floor.

The air caught in his chest at her appearance. She came over to him, sitting the popcorn down on the small coffee table and grabbing the controller. Instead of moving back to the couch, May sat next to him on the floor before grabbing the popcorn back. She passed him the bowl; it was just salty enough and flavor combined with the orange juice that appeared on the coffee table perfectly. Her eye brows furrowed when he missed whatever she said to him. He was too busy staring at her.

Peter reached out. His hand hovered over her skin before he pressed it against her cheek; eyes widening at the warmth that felt real. His vision blurred with forming tears but before she could see his wonder he closed his eyes. If he could remember the smile on her face as she walked into the room and spied him on the ground he would be forever grateful to whatever this torture was.    

Her skin turned cold under his hand and the air grew dense. It pressed against him, weighing so heavy on his hand he was tempted to take it off her cheek. But he couldn’t let that happen. She would be gone again if he did and so he held on.

Gravity turned and he was lying on the ground again. Apprehension tickled his mind but he opened his eyes and found himself next to May. Her expression wasn’t anything like he knew before. May’s eyes were dull with glassy smog hiding them. She was on the ground with her hand tucked under her body. The base of her arms sitting in a pool of dark liquid. His hand, still resting on the side of her face, was covering something lumpy and there was a sticky material connecting them. It was the same liquid on the ground. He pulled his hand away. The bodies temperature was cold and there was maroon stained on his palm. It dribbled out of the perforated wound on the side of her head. This was not the May he was trying to remember.

“No.” He screamed out, fisting his other knuckles into his mouth. “Please… Please, stop.”


He didn’t know who he was yelling at or if they would hear. Fresh wounds of grief tore into his chest and the yelling helped numb him. He screamed again. Peter became an outlet for the emotions welling inside of him. Incoherent words and noises tumbled out of his mouth until his throat seized and he was voiceless against the pain.

Something landed on his shoulder.

Rhodes was staring at him from beside the bed. He opened his eyes with the dream with on his mind. His hand tingled and he scrambled up. Peter pushed the covers down, ignoring the sweat stains on them and stared at his palm. There was no trace of blood. It was truly just a dream.

His hands fell beside him and he stared at the wall.

The torrent residing in him spoke to more than a dream. They were almost memories and he lost himself in them; welcomed the searing burn as they trickled out of the corners of his mind. Rhodes continued to sit next to him without speaking. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and the weight brought him back to reality, back to the blue room.

The correct course of action would be to politely shake the hand off, thank the man, and be done with it. It wasn’t right to take comfort from strangers, to burden them with problems that weren’t their own. You could be sitting right next to someone but be worlds away when it mattered.

But then Peter remembered his fourteenth birthday. He’d been a freshman in high school and like middle school, the odd man out. He had no friends to speak of, ate in the bathroom enough to have concern for the hygiene of doing so, and rode the subway there and back alone. Second semester rolled around and they changed seat partners in biology. He was partnered with a kid named Ned. He was a talker and throughout their classes he drew Peter in.

More often than not they finished with their labs earlier than their classmates. The term was ending. On that day, Peter was preoccupied with his coming birthday and how it landed in summer. He would have to do it then and there. Peter glanced at Ned under his eye lashes and grasped the table with his hands. Ned continued to chat away about how Peter should join some club he was in after school. He wore an easy smile. It never failed to make him feel warm and although they only knew each other through school, Peter couldn’t help but want to see if they could become real friends.

“Hey, uh, Ned. Do you maybe want to hang out? And-and want to come over for cake in August?”

Ned smirked as they began packing their bags.

“Is this a roundabout way of inviting me to your birthday? I know it’s August10th.”

“How do you- Oh, Mr. Harrington’s board, right?”

“Yep and I’ve been wanting to ask if you were doing something for the longest time. I just didn’t know how.” He said rubbing the back of his neck before chuckling. “So, this is great. Be warned my mom makes the best cassava cake and I’ll probably bring enough for an army.”

Peter couldn’t wait to tell May. True enough, a month and many hangouts outside of school later, Ned arrived carrying two plates of the delicious cake. His family sat around him. They sang much to his embarrassment and he and Ned shared a look at May’s attempts to document the whole night with her camera.

Later, tucked away in their sleeping bags they whispered about their summer plans and the distant school year. It was quiet for a moment; the air full between them and Peter couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Ned turned around to face him. Peter mimicked the action, tucking his elbow to prop his head up.

“Hey Peter.” He said.

“Hey Ned.”

“I wanted to say thanks man, for inviting me. I know it’s not cool to say and all, but I’d been thinking all winter semester how to ask you to hang out and never got out the nerve. I’m, uh, really glad we’re friends.”

Ned smiled again and turned over. Peter swallowed. He scooted his bedding closer and with un unsure hand he reached to rest of on Ned’s shoulder. His friend’s muscles relaxed with a sigh and Peter closed his eyes in sleep.

The air in the blue bedroom was not full of blossoming friendship like it had been that night many years ago. Peter’s muscles were tense under Rhodes’ hand. His energy unwelcoming to the man’s help. But still he remained next to him providing a lifeline away from his dreams and memories.

He had butterflies in his stomach before reaching out to Ned. He could also remember his friend’s bashful smile under the Christmas lights in his room. Peter wondered if Rhodes was feeling the same nervous vulnerability of reaching out to someone new even though he was an adult. And he knew how Ned felt. The same sense of appreciation made him fidget for this stranger next to him.

In the cold hours of the morning, nightmares and memories all mangled in his mind, Peter didn’t feel alone for the first time in a long time. He stared out at the lake, barely visible through the gaps in the curtains, and admired the desolate environment. The wind blew moving the snow around and a bush still with bits of green sat unswayed by the cold.

“Thank you.” He whispered into his pillow. He knew the man heard by the gentle squeeze following his words.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Seven: He’s Warming up to Them 

[smileyoongle]

Come Back Home (A Kim Taehyung Mafia AU) // Part 6

Summary: You were dead. Or at least that's what Kim Taehyung thought. But love never dies. A myth, yes. And maybe that's why when he finds out that you are alive, he may have already lost you.

Pairing: Mafia!Taehyung×Reader

24th January, 2019

10:46PM

This is my first entry ever. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and my life has been a little too happening for the past 24 days. I came to live with my best friend in Korea, only to be kidnapped by a dangerous man who called himself Kim Taehyung. And these 24 days, I have been living with him. That's right. Living.

I have to admit, I was scared shitless at first. I thought I was pretty much dead and there is no way Yoona can save me. But can you imagine my surprise when Kim Taehyung turned out to be a sweet gentleman? And it's not just him. All the people who work with him are just as nice to me. Especially, Jungkook. He makes me feel like I have known him for a long time. It's not really bad living here. Taehyung's house is like four times bigger than Yoona's house and I sometimes get lost. It gets boring when no one's home but I manage. I think my little complaint made Taehyung buy me this diary. It's really pretty and it has my name sewn onto the hard cover. He says it's an apology present but I know he's probably annoyed with me. He just wants me to keep to myself. It isn't my fault, is it? Kim Taehyung is just a very…. intriguing man. I find myself being pulled to him all the time. But this is a secret. Between you and me.

Yours Lovingly,

Y/N

A knock on the door made you close the diary and hide it under your pillow. You cleared your throat and pulled the covers up to your neck before mumbling a 'come in'. Minho's head peeked in through the door, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in your form. He slowly got inside and closed the door.

The sun was shining through the windows, the chirping of the birds outside giving you hope that today's gonna be a good day.

"Hey." He mumbled, glancing at his feet and leaning against the door. You gulped, the awkwardness in the room becoming very obvious. You hadn't spoken to Yoona or Minho the day before. Jungkook's words had left you anxious and suspicious, if it wasn't for the diary then you would have surely lost your mind. Since you were too tired the previous night, you hadn't touched your diary at all. But your curiosity had you waking up early and flipping open the pages.

Strangely, Minho hadn't bothered you since you fainted and you wondered how your relationship with him used to be.

"Hi." You replied, mustering a small smile and sitting up straighter. 

"Did I wake you?" He asked, wincing a little at the thought. You immediately shook your head, your hands itching to grab your book and read more of your thoughts.

You could feel the headache coming, clearly, the information of you having been kidnapped was too much. 

So Taehyung became your best friend after he kidnapped you?

That's the only possible explanation. And also, he doesn't seem to be lying either since your entry made sure to tell you how much you liked being in his presence.

Wow ...what an interesting story.

"Y/N, are you listening to me?" You snapped out of your thoughts, mentally slapping yourself for completely forgetting about Minho. 

"I-uh yeah... I'm sorry I'm just... there's too many thoughts." You apologized, biting your lip and shaking your head slightly. Minho smiled apologetically at you, his hand enveloping yours. You blushed, gaping at the sudden gesture.

"It's okay, I understand. I just came to tell you that Yoona has gone out for some work. So I was wondering that maybe we should go out and you know, not let you get too cooped up?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

You blinked at him, thinking of ways to say no but you couldn't do that to him. As much as you lost yourself, everyone else did too. What they need is for you to tell them that you aren't gone completely. You'll be back. You are on your way.

Reluctantly, you nodded, eyes narrowing at Minho's hand on top of yours. 

"I'd like that." You said, giving him a comforting smile. His hand was warm against yours, the kind of warmness that Jungkook had brought to you. It was so...brotherly.

He's your boyfriend.

You cleared your throat, pulling your hand away from him. Minho noticed your uncomfortableness and stood up, giving you a nod.

"Okay then. Uh.. I'll wait for you downstairs. Take your time." He said, waving at you before leaving you alone. 

You sighed, leaning against the backrest. In all honesty, you did feel a little grimy. You had barely gotten out of bed since yesterday.

You pulled out your diary, running your fingers across the hard cover. There was a certain amount of hesitation in your heart. You didn't really know the story that was hidden between the pages. It was like you were getting to know yourself from your own perspective. You couldn't tell if you were ready or not.

💔🖤💔🖤💔🖤

"Fucking hell!" 

Taehyung's voice echoed through the house, making everyone turn their heads towards the study. Namjoon frowned, nodding at everyone to let them know that he was gonna check up on what exactly Taehyung was doing.

He dragged himself up the open staircase and leaned against the doorway of Taehyung's study, frowning on seeing the mess. The room reeked of alcohol, an empty bottle of whisky sitting on the table which used to be a lot more cleaner in your presence.

Namjoon's heart ached at the thought. Such a shame that life is so quick to take away important people. The only thing Namjoon was grateful for, was your existence. At least, you were alive. 

Taehyung rummaged through the cardboard boxes in the room, throwing out everything that he wasn't looking for. Namjoon sighed, concluding that Taehyung was, indeed, drunk.

"What are you doing?" Namjoon voiced, watching the younger male with a cold expression. It was absolutely demotivating to see Taehyung slowly spiralling back into the darkness that he was saved from. As much as Namjoon wanted to do something about it, he felt helpless.

Taehyung closed his eyes, sitting down on the carpeted floor and rubbing his eyes. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, his mind too busy replaying his encounter with you.

"I can't fucking find her diary. I swear I had packed it up in one of these boxes.." Taehyung replied, his words sounding very unstable. 

Jungkook stood outside the study, peeping in from behind Namjoon and wincing on seeing Taehyung's state. There was absolutely no way he could tell Taehyung what he had done. Taehyung would probably get mad that Jungkook had done this without telling anyone. But what could he do? 

He seemed to be the only one worried about your sanity because you were staying with Yoona. Something had to be done to save you. To make you feel like you still had control over your life.

"You're too drunk to be looking for anything. Go and get cleaned up first." Namjoon ordered, kneeling down beside his brother-like friend and patting his back. Taehyung shook his head, his red rimmed eyes begging Namjoon to help him.

Jungkook decided that he should probably step in. So he did.

"You really should go and clean up. We'll look for it." Jungkook stated, walking in with his hands in his pocket. Taehyung sighed, reluctantly nodding. He stood up, stumbling on his own feet but Jungkook caught him.

Taehyung nodded at Jungkook in acknowledgement and Jungkook cracked a small smile.

"Just, please find it. That diary makes me feel like I still have her even though I don't." Taehyung requested, glancing at both the men before making his way out. 

Jungkook frowned, looking down at his shoes. Should he have not done that?

💔🖤💔🖤💔🖤

Yoona shivered, her body still hot and bothered from what she had done moments ago. The silk sheets beneath her body felt cool, her fingers tangling themselves in the red satin. Her eyes followed the man across the room, smiling at him with all the affection she had. But he seemed to be unaffected, too focused on putting on his clothes and lighting up his cigarette.

"You're leaving so soon?" Yoona voiced, disdain evident in the way her shoulders slumped. She knew that Eunho had a life apart from her but she couldn't deny the liveliness she felt when he was with her. She felt special. She felt like she was doing something right, even if the world didn't believe that.

Eunho shook his head, running his fingers through his brown hair. 

"I'm not going anywhere, you are. This is my house and I have things to do so get out."

Yoona's jaw dropped at the harshness delivered to her. She could hear the shattering of her heart, her chest tightening as she sat up straighter. 

"Why are you saying that? I...I don't understand." She frowned, pulling the sheets up to cover her body. Eunho sighed before chuckling bitterly to himself. He turned towards Yoona, taking a long drag from his cigarette and sitting beside her on the bed. He tilted his head, mocking her with his pitiful eyes.

"You stupid stupid girl. Did you think I'd keep you with me forever? I must admit, the sex was amazing at first but now, it's just boring. So, give me back the money you took from me and get lost." He stated bluntly, crossing his legs and staring at Yoona in amusement. 

Yoona's breath hitched, her eyes warming up as tears began to pool in them. All these months, she had thought that Eunho was the one for her. Even though he was a gang leader, he was nice. He was better than all the others she had met. She had trusted him with all her problems and he had also given her money when she had to pay Taehyung back. 

This was not something she expected. She leaned forward and held Eunho's hand, tears freely falling down her cheeks.

"No, Eunho, I'll do whatever you want. Don't end this here. I don't even have the money. If I had it, I wouldn't have borrowed it from you!" Yoona begged, her voice cracking in the middle. 

Eunho was her pillar and maybe she had been naïve enough to let him manipulate her but she was in too deep now. She was in love and she knew that. She just couldn't believe that Eunho could say such things to her. He only wanted her for her body? Bullshit.

Eunho yanked his arm away and stood up, throwing icy glares at Yoona as he crouched down to her eye level. 

"You don't have the money? Hmm...then we have just two choices." Yoona's eyes lit up with hope. This was good. There has to be some way in which she could repay him and convince him to stay.

At her lack of response, Eunho smirked and leaned closer, placing his fingers under her chin. Yoona could feel his breath on her lips, the smell of his cologne mixing with that of the cigarette.

"Either you get me the money somehow…." Yoona's breath hitched when his hand trailed down to her neck, his fingers wrapping around the skin. 

"...or you get me the girl who was in the middle of all this."

Yoona's eyes widened and she immediately pushed Eunho away. Her breathing became heavier and her jaw clenched. 

So he wanted Y/N?

Eunho could sense the anger he had planted in his dumb lover, a wave of satisfaction crashing over him. He loved seeing Yoona getting so riled up over nothing. Because how much was her best friend really worth? 

Nothing.

Eunho just wanted a taste of the girl who had captured Kim Taehyung's heart. It was just mere curiosity and he was sure that he'd let her go after one night. But if she was really special, then maybe he'd have to keep the little birdie with him. 

What was her name again?

Y/N Y/L/N

"You're sick! I'll fucking give you your money, one way or another but you'll never ever get your hands on Y/N!" Yoona seethed, rushing to put on her clothes. All of her trust and affection was thrown out the window in a span of seconds. 

"Oh? Okay then, I guess you wouldn't mind if I informed Taehyung that this whole kidnapping thing was your doing."

Yoona froze, her jacket clutched tightly in her hands as a shudder ran down her spine. She gulped, slowly turning around to look at the pathetic man who was threatening her after using her to his heart's content. 

"You wouldn't." She mumbled, her tone cautious and doubtful. As much as she wanted to call it a bluff, Eunho's eyes told her otherwise. He had always been a competitive man, his ego too high to please and too easy to hurt. 

Eunho raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer to Yoona.

"You think, baby? Fine, don't come to me when Taehyung sends his people after you."

Yoona shook her head furiously, her jacket falling to the floor as she swallowed thickly. Her stomach churned and she wanted to throw up. The smell of Eunho's cologne was now becoming intoxicating. She couldn't stand it.

"You can't pin this on me. I asked you to hurt Taehyung!" She yelled, pointing at Eunho while he simply smirked. 

"That's the point, baby. You asked me. You let your friend rot in Castillo's basement. You decided that she needs to be given electric shocks to forget Taehyung. So tell me. Who's the bigger culprit?"

The tears that had dried up made a comeback, endlessly streaming down Yoona's cheeks. This was low, even for Eunho. But it was her fault for believing him in the first place. You used to be a cautious girl when it came to men and Yoona used to think you were being too stuck up. Now she understood why. She had made a big mistake with no way to undo it.

Eunho tutted, wrapping his arms around Yoona and letting her cry. He patted her head and rocked back and forth.

"You have two weeks. Get me Y/N and we'll all be happy." He mumbled, his soothing tone contradicting the warning of his words. 

Taglist: @min-t-posts @annoyinglyunabashedangel @bringitseijoh @kpopgirlbtssvt @jeonjello @shadowstark @bangtanniexxx @wendyiiwl @imlostindarkness @sinnersblogg @jazzytfw @lovestrucked-again @hopetookmysoul @angelwolfexorcist @taes-strawberry @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @annoyingpessimist @hajimaoppaa @atwoodscott @kawaiimusiccollection @byeolizzie @sleepysavya @sensiblebutch @maiden-mars @soundofwonderland @the-fangirl-lorax @btsarmysvtcarat @youthandtears @novelread000 @glitterytreephantom @chocolatemilk1221 @cookiemonstermusic258 @iamcrazyforkdramas @luckyzipperscissorsbat @kpop-is-life100 @entitledtolove @somewhereinthestarss

Look at this family, we really growing, huh? How do we feel about the plot twist? I hate Yoona 😔

Tell me if you wanna be tagged! As much as I think this was a bad chapter, I hope you guys still liked it!

-XX

[lonestarbabe]

Holding Out For a Hero

Chapter 4: I’m Fine (AO3)

Marjan is worried about T.K. and enlists the help of Carlos to make sure T.K. is okay. Things heat up between T.K. and Carlos... but in an angry way... for now. Carlos learns more about T.K. while T.K. starts to think that Carlos may actually care.

T.K.

It was a Wednesday, but T.K. didn’t know which one. He only knew that the pool cleaner had been outside earlier. The pool cleaner came on Wednesdays, so it had to be Wednesday. He was almost positive it was March but coming up with the month took a few seconds too long as alcohol and Oxy muted his mind. “Maybe you should slow down a little,” Marjan suggested, looking at T.K. with her usual disapproving look. If T.K. knew she’d planned on coming over, he would have saved the drugs and alcohol for later in the evening. Marjan didn’t consume either, and while she didn’t mind being around people who were drinking or maybe even smoking some weed, she wasn’t shy about telling him why he should avoid those things. She thinks I’m an addict, but I’m just having fun. As much fun as a miserable person can have, at least.

“Don’t be a kill joy Marjan.” She always wants to spoil my fun. Some best friend she is. I don’t need her to look after me, no matter what she thinks. Between her, Judd, and the new bodyguard, I’ll never get a moment to myself.

“Slow down,” Marjan told him again, pulling the bottle of vodka from his hand and putting it out of his reach. “I know you already had pills, and you shouldn’t be mixing that crap together.”

“Okay, Doctor Marwani.”

“I’m a first responder. I know a thing or two about these things, but of course, teen heartthrob T.K. Strand doesn’t like to listen to rules. It’s not cute to be a bad boy anymore.” She sounded annoyed, but her eyes were terrified. Look what I do to everyone around me. I put them through shit, and I act like an asshole, even though I’d give them literally anything they asked.

“You’re such a rule follower. Are all firefighters as boring as you?” T.K. lamented. “You can’t get anywhere if you go slow. Did Michael Phelps ever slow down?” T.K. added, grabbing a new bottle and watching amber liquid fill his glass. He took the shot of tequila just to prove a point. Stings more than vodka, and I kind of like it.

“No, he didn’t, and now you see him sitting in an empty pool in those Better Help commercials. Do you want that to be you?” Yeah, sitting in an empty pool might be pretty fun, but you can’t drown in it. Unless you find something other than water to drown yourself in. Wouldn’t it be funny to drown at the bottom of an empty pool?

“That’s because he stopped swimming. He let his feelings catch up with him. If you don’t ever stop, nothing can ever catch up to you. That’s why I gotta keep going.”

“Everyone has to stop eventually, T.K. People get old and slow. They can’t win races forever. You just better hope that you’re the one who makes that decision and that it isn’t the universe that steps in and slows you down.”

“Give me too much time to stop and think, and I’ll go crazy. There’s nothing that you, Judd, or any hot bodyguard can do about it.”

“Hot bodyguard? Don’t tell me it’s another Mr. Clean.” Oh, yes, the Mr. Cleans. So many bodyguards he’d had were bald and had an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean. He figured Judd just thought those guys looked responsible. Mr. Cleans were attractive, sometimes, but in a one-night stand kind of way. Let ‘em use you and then clean you away with their magic erasers.

T.K. shook his head. “This one isn’t just hot in an ironic way. He’s an ex-cop.” T.K. had done a quick— two-hour— internet search into Carlos. Carlos kept a pretty low profile, but T.K. had learned enough about him to guess how he ticked. He also knew that he had an ex-boyfriend, so he at least liked men.

“And you say that you don’t have a type.”

“He’s an ex-cop.”

“Still. Once a cop, always a cop.”

“I don’t care what he was or what he is. I’m just saying he’s hot. He hates fun just like you, but he’s hot.”

“Don’t harass him, Tyler Kennedy.”

“Don’t call me Tyler Kennedy, Marjan Marwani.”

“Marwani isn’t even my middle name.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to seduce him, anyway. I don’t do the chasing. People chase me.”

She looked at him like he was full of shit. “I’ve watched you chase plenty of guys. You practically mauled that big one last week.”

“Fucks, not dates. It’s different.”

“Yeah, because all you care about is having fun, I get it. T.K. Strand can never take anything further than a fuck,” she replied sarcastically. She doesn’t believe a single word of my bullshit, and that’s something I love and hate about her.

“I choose not to. Dates don’t like hanging out with party boys.”

“The issue is that party boys refuse to stay sober.”

“I’m sober a lot. Far too much for my liking, actually,” T.K. quipped.

“Yeah, I know. That’s exactly my point. You know, I rescue idiots like you every day. People who think they’re just having fun when they’re not having fun at all. They hate what they’re doing. They’re just being dangerous and stupid for no other reason than having a gap they need to fill.”

“I’m not dangerous. I’m really safe when I take anything. I don’t run heavy machinery when I’m high— not even my can opener. I’m careful, Marjan.”

She laughed. “Yeah that damn automatic can opener Judd got you could decapitate a person if they got their head too close.” Her face returned to concerned. “But don’t distract me with the Strand charm. I’m serious, T.K. I’m not worried about you getting other people hurt. I know you wouldn’t get in a car or endanger other people intentionally, but shit still happens. You’re going to do something to yourself that you can’t take back.”

“Maybe I’ll get a Better Help commercial out of it,” he said with a grin. When I’m washed up and the crowds stop coming to my shows, I’ll be one of those celebrities who has to resort to paid testimonials. I’ll suffer the horrifying ordeal of being known, forgotten, and known again as a relic from a time that had almost been erased from people’s memories. The voice from a song they used to love (or hate).

She punched him in the arm. “If you don’t shut up…” but she couldn’t help the smile that was on her face. “You look at the world so differently than I do.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. Why are we even friends? I was trying to date a firefighter, not become best friends with his coworker.”

“Bob was forty-five with a wife and kids. You had to know it was never happening” Bob had a great dad bod.

“Why should that have stopped me?”

Marjan crossed her arms. “Your daddy issues are showing.”

“I don’t have daddy issues,” T.K. protested. My dad died a long time ago, and I’m totally over it. It’s not like he left me. He just left and never came back. He hugged me goodbye, went to work, and then just like that, he was gone. It wasn’t fair, but it was nothing he did. He died a hero, and now, there’s no hero left to save me. Not that I need one. I’m fine. Great even. I hate my life, but I’m surrounded by wonderful things. I would be happy if I wasn’t such a dreadful person.

“Your father was a firefighter and you wanted to date a firefighter old enough to be your father. Sounds like daddy issues to me.”

“You don’t get it because you don’t have daddy issues. I wasn’t interested because he was old or a firefighter. It was because he was hot… and looked nothing like my father for your information.”

“I’m just saying you never really dealt with your dad’s death.”

“It’s been two decades! Of course, I dealt with it. Mom made me go to therapy.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t take therapy seriously.”

“It only lasted a couple weeks before I threw a fit and convinced mom it did more harm than good.”

“See, you need to actually address your issues, T.K.”

“When did you get your psychology degree, anyway?”

“First, you tell me I’m not a doctor, and now you tell me I’m not a psychologist. You’re getting very predictable, Teek. And very defensive on top of that.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t say I’m not defensive without being defensive!”

“Sucks to be a loser.” Marjan made it her goal in life to win at everything.

“We all can’t be good at everything like you, Miss Has Gone Viral Eight Times.”

“It was only six, and I don’t think you stop going viral… ever. I always see your annoying face wherever I go— in magazines at grocery stores or billboards. I went on a date once with this girl, and when I went home with her, she had a big poster of you over her bed. Really killed the mood.”

“Any of the guys you dated have a poster of me?”

“One had a bobblehead.”

T.K. cringed. “That’s worse than a poster.”

“How? The poster is a lot bigger. I could shove the bobblehead in a drawer.”

“It’s unofficial merch,” T.K. explained.

“Oh, yes, the dreaded unofficial merch. How will you ever live without your cut of the money? You could have two Porsches by now if only you sold bobbleheads.” He didn’t mention that he could buy more than two Porsches if he wanted because he was sure she already knew that.

“The Barbie doll was nightmare enough. It looked like they glued feathers on my head.”

“I still have that doll. Just for when I need a good laugh.”

Marjan uncrossed her legs and got up to go to the kitchen.  “While I wish I could stay to talk, I have a shift in an hour, so I have to go. The captain doesn’t like my attitude as it is, which means being late would take me from his bad list to his firing list.” She shrugged. “It’s not my fault that I’m allergic to poor leadership.”

“That’s one hell of an allergy, Marj,” he shook his head at her. “If you’re trying to leave, the door isn’t in the kitchen. My mind is a little warped right now, but even I know that.”

Marjan put a water glass next to T.K. “I don’t want you to die. The hangover is probably unavoidable. But hydrate.”

“Why do you have to go? I thought your next shift wasn’t until Friday.”

“It is Friday. Hence why I have to go.” She told him impatiently. “Do you pay attention at all?”

“No, the pool cleaner came today. It’s Wednesday.”

“The pool cleaner comes on Thursdays, T.K. He came yesterday.” He checked his phone and saw that yes, it was Friday. Oof wonder where the time went.

“Fuck. Why does the week need seven days?”

“That’s it. I’m calling Judd.”

“He’s in Texas with Grace. I’m fine, Marwani. Go to work. Billy the Bully isn’t going to wait.” She sighed, looking torn about leaving him, but T.K. wasn’t going to be the reason Marjan got in trouble. Just because I can’t keep my shit together doesn’t mean I should drag everyone down into my miserable life.”

“I’m calling your new bodyguard.”

“No, you’re not.” He didn’t want the only times that Carlos saw him to be when he was indisposed. Carlos probably already hated him, and T.K., as much as he hated bodyguards, did not want to start again with a new bodyguard. If this didn’t work, Judd would probably call in a drill sergeant. Anyone but Carlos.

“I am. Maybe he can come sit with you for a while.”

“No way. You can’t call him on his day off.”

“There aren’t a lot of options right now. If he says no, he says no.” She’s so persistent. She won’t take no for an answer. Not with me, not with Carlos. “He might not be busy. He’s new to town, so he probably hasn’t made a lot of friends yet.”

“I’m not letting a hot guy see me in sweatpants and a hoodie.”

“That’s like your uniform.”

“Yeah, but it’s not for people who haven’t seen the shit show. I don’t want him to think I’m a slob.”

“Oh, so you care about his opinion? Give me his number. You know I won’t leave until you do.” She waited not so patiently for a response. “I guess I could ask Judd. Interrupt his nice trip with his wife, but you won’t make me do that, will you?” Friends are the worst.

“No, do not bother anyone. I’ll give you the number.” He sighed, fumbling for his phone. You’re a real psycho, you know that?” Marjan swiped the phone from his hands before he could even unlock it. She punched in the code. I really need to change that. “He’s listed under—”

“Hot Body Bodyguard, yeah, I got it.” She chuckled. “You’re so obvious.”

“Delete his number from your phone when you’re done.” He didn’t want Marjan talking to Carlos on the regular. That would be a disaster.

“Do you even know me?” Marjan laughed. “I still have Aaron’s number. This one isn’t going anywhere. I may delete Aaron’s though. I think it’s time.”

“Aaron?” He didn’t know who the hell that was. Was he somebody I slept with? One of Marjan’s exes?

“Mr. Clean #3.” Oh, him. He wasn’t so bad, but not at all personable. Hated the very idea of fun. Treated me like a toddler. Slightly attractive.

“Don’t remind me. He was awful.” T.K. groaned. He flipped his hand in the air to wave her away. “Go to work already.”

“Yeah, okay.” She finished up a couple of texts and stuck her phone in her purse. “I’ll see you later. Probably tomorrow, so don’t get drunk before five. No drugs either. I want you clear headed. I have boy issues to talk about.”

“I don’t get wasted every night, but okay. Cannot wait for your boy issues.”

Marjan smiled. “Good.” Before heading out the door, she turned to give him one last look. “Seriously, dude, be careful. I’d be really pissed if something happened to you.” Marjan always started throwing in “dude” when her emotions were getting the best of her.

“You’re the one who dives into fires for a living.”

“Yeah, but I do it with equipment. You dive into fires just to see if they’ll burn you.” She doesn’t understand that sometimes the burn feels better the numbness.

Carlos

Carlos’ plans were interrupted by a series of three pings on his phone. He picked his phone up, immediately having a bad feeling when he saw an unknown number. He was used to calls from unfamiliar numbers, but texts were rarer.

You need to get to T.K.’s house.

This is Marjan by the way. Marjan Marwani.

I’m T.K.’s best friend (reluctantly).

As he read the messages, Carlos stood from his couch, beginning to pace across his floor as his brows scrunched in consternation. This was not how he saw his day off going. T.K. better not be dead. I’m not going to lose that idiot if I can help it. I told Judd I’d protect him, and I don’t plan on backing down on my promise no matter how irritating T.K. can be.

What? Why? Is something wrong?

Carlos had just settled in from going to the store and was about to call his mom before cracking open a beer and watching TV. He was a worrier, so he couldn’t help thinking that something truly awful had happened. It can’t be that bad if T.K.’s friend is making jokes, Carlos reassured himself, but the chance that things might not be okay twisted Carlos’ stomach. I’m not going to let some bratty popstar ruin my evening. He’s probably just drunk and looking to do something stupid. I don’t need to deal with this.

Is it an emergency?

I’m not on duty, so I can’t just go over there if he doesn’t want me to.

Carlos had a bad feeling that his curiosity and worry would get the best of him, and he’d end up at T.K.’s mansion that was far too large for just one person. T.K. was difficult, but there was also something infectious about him. You couldn’t help but root for him or worry that he might not be okay.

He’s drunk and high. He shouldn’t be alone.

Please, just stay with him. He hates being alone.

I would but my boss is an asshole.

Please. Judd is away, and there’s no one else to call. He doesn’t have a lot of real friends.

He doesn’t even like me.

There was a thirty-minute delay before another text came in, and Carlos sat in suspense, worrying about all the things that can happen in thirty minutes.

Sorry. I was going to work. He likes you fine, and even if he didn’t, he’ll let you in because I told him to.

You’ve got blackmail on him or something? I barely know him, but I know T.K. doesn’t like being told what to do.

What you need to know about T.K. is that he doesn’t give a damn about himself, but he’d throw himself in a fire after taking a bath in gasoline to make sure the people he loves aren’t hurt.

Well, damn, he couldn’t argue that. Couldn’t say no to someone who clearly loved her friend so much. Couldn’t say no to T.K.

It would send the wrong message to spend his time off with T.K., but he hated the thought of T.K. overdosing or going out to find assholes to hang out with. He hated the thought of T.K. hooking up with some man who would take advantage of him. T.K. was a pain in the ass, but he was also a national treasure. Fangirls would never forgive Carlos if he let something happen to T.K. (He would never forgive himself.) This job is getting too messy. For whatever reason, I’m already too far in. Captivated by those green eyes and that lopsided smiled. I need distance because T.K. Strand is doing his best not to stay alive, and getting too close will set me up for a world or hurt.

He sighed, grabbing his keys from the hook by his door and heading out to his car. He sent Marjan a quick text.

Fine, I’m going over.

Good. I have to go. My bad boss is calling.

Keep him safe.

Carlos wasn’t sure if that last part was a best friend’s threat or a desperate plea, but either way, he didn’t want to screw this assignment up. I’ll keep him safe. But he couldn’t make promises because he couldn’t save T.K. from himself no matter how much he wanted to.

I’ll do my best.

Putting his car into gear, Carlos back out and zoomed down the highway until he got to a mansion set apart from the other houses. He wouldn’t admit to anyone how much over the speed limit he had gone. If he’d had sirens, he would have used them. Fuck T.K. for being such an endearing jackass.

He entered the code at the gate and haphazardly parked his car in the first place he could find. It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive. He liked order and control, and any lack of those things made him antsy, but he didn’t even notice that his car was 1 inch into the grass. He rushed up to the door, thoughts of T.K. being hurt or dead rising into a heart-pounding climax. What if I’m too late? What if I was too slow? What if I’m powerless to save him? What if I fail at this job?

The tension dropped from Carlos’ shoulders as he heard the deadbolt click open and saw T.K.’s head when the door swung open and Carlos was instantly relieved to see that T.K. wasn’t unconscious on the floor. In fact, T.K. mostly seemed fine.

T.K. gave a long, exaggerated sigh, and Carlos felt his breath momentarily constrict again. He looked good. Anyone with eyes could see that, but Carlos had self-control. He didn’t act like an animal just because he spotted a pretty person. He’s a ten, but he’s also off limits. He’s narcissistic and obnoxious. Maybe a little sweet, but he’s not good for me. He’s danger, and I had enough of that when I was a cop. I flew too close too the sun, but this guy, he’s flying in the center of the sun.

For someone who was supposedly in danger, T.K. looked like he had complete command over his situation. He wore a hot pink and baby blue striped button down with black skinny jeans that hugged his lean legs in ways Carlos didn’t allow himself to think about too much. He averted his eyes, being sure to look at T.K.’s face, which was just as overwhelming. Carlos noticed T.K.’s eyes were bloodshot with deep bags underneath. A person can hide under clothes, but the eyes, those emerald eyes, always tell the truth.

T.K. looked markedly too nice for a night in, looking and smelling like he was about to go on a date. Freshly misted cologne hitting Carlos’ nose— vanilla, cinnamon, and sandalwood. There was an underlying bitterness to his scent—cloves— but it was just enough to offset what would be otherwise cloying. “Are you okay?” Carlos finally asked.

“Yeah, but I have a little alcohol and Marjan thinks I’ve gone off the deep end.” That’s a can of worms that I am not even going to begin to unpack. “I’m obviously fine.”

“Fine or not, I’m here now. Might be nice to have a little company.” The more Carlos looked at T.K., the less fine he seemed to be. He didn’t seem as outwardly wasted as when they first met, but T.K.’s uncontrollable smile and aimless eyes told Carlos all he needed to know. The blissed-out look was chillingly familiar to him, so much so that he had the instinct to get in his car and speed away, but his sense of duty was too strong, and even as his past chased him, Carlos couldn’t look away from T.K. Maybe things can be different than they were with Taylor. Maybe not, but how can I in good conscience give up before I try? “I’m here,” Carlos reiterated. And I’m not going anywhere.

“I see that.” T.K. gave him a once over, licking his lips. “And you look very good doing it.” He’s just a flirt. I can’t let it get to my head. I have to protect him. Not fuck him. T.K.’s words were dripping with forced pleasantness, and Carlos couldn’t quite figure out what T.K. was really feeling beyond the happy highness. Silence fell between them.

T.K. bit his lip, looking down a little. The mood shifted. “I know you don’t want to be here. Don’t worry, Judd will pay you for your babysitting.” Carlos wanted to argue that he wasn’t here for the money or insist that he did care, but the air between him and T.K. had turned so suddenly sour that words swirled in his head with nothing to ground them into cohesive sentences. The smell of cloves was trapped in his nose and he tried to search for the vanilla and cinnamon, warm and pleasantly biting. “I’m sure Marjan will report back to him when he gets back from his trip. He’ll fret over me because it would be such a shame if I died and couldn’t make him any more money.” T.K. cracked a mechanical grin that clashed with the bitter tone in his voice. “He’d probably be relieved not to have me bothering him.” He’s got it all wrong, but I can’t tell him that. I barely even know him.

Carlos wanted to shake T.K. and tell him that Judd would be devastated if something happened to him, but he knew if he was too sincere, T.K. would retreat into the safety of humor and lightheartedness. He would become the happy and carefree T.K. that substances created to hide the sorrow. I have to learn to roll with his jokes and self-deprecation, even hearing it horrifies me. “I’ve heard that posthumous sales aren’t half bad. The initial spike… might be something to consider,” Carlos replied wryly. When there was more silence, Carlos wondered if he’d made a fatal misstep. Maybe I don’t have as good of a grasp on the situation as I thought. What if I’m losing him?

A flash of shock came over T.K.’s face before his lips upturned slightly and his head tilted to the side with curiosity. “You really busting my balls right now?”

Carlos kept the impassive look on his face, forcing his lips not to turn up. “I suppose I am.”

T.K. shook his head, the dark cloud lifting from his features just a little. Back to carefree T.K., and Carlos wasn’t sure if it was for the best or the worse. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely happy. “I can’t believe that of all the bodyguards in the bodyguard factory, you’re the one they sent me.” Back to joking, the cold tone dissipated in the early evening air.

“And I can’t believe that of all the popstars in the popstar factory, you’re the one I got sent to,” Carlos countered. He could keep up with banter if he needed to. He could even throw in some harmless flirting if it helped get through to T.K., but he couldn’t cross any lines beyond that. I know all about how crossing one line can lead to crossing more. I need boundaries if this is going to work. I must be careful for T.K.’s sake and mine.

“Rockstar,” T.K. corrected.

“You don’t sing rock music, popstar,” Carlos reminded him.

“It’s a—”

“State of mind. I know. Now, are you going to let me in? Or do I have to stand out here all evening fighting with you about the definition of a rockstar?”

T.K.’s head tilted again, this time in thought. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. Marjan will kill me if I make you stand on the porch,” T.K. answered, opening the door wider and leading Carlos into the living room. The stench of alcohol immediately hit Carlos’ nose and bottles were sprawled on a chair.

“That’s a lot of bottles,” Carlos commented.

“Some of them are old.” Some, not all. Not even most. Some. “It’s funny because sometimes when it’s dark, there’s so many of them there that it almost looks like a person sitting in the chair. I’ve gotten startled a couple times by it. Sometimes, though, it’s nice not to feel alone.” The honesty of the words struck Carlos. He’s got so many demons I haven’t even seen yet. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it again in the absence of having a meaningful response.  T.K. caught on to what he had said and backtracked. “I didn’t mean that seriously, you know. It was just a joke. I mean, there’s always people around me. Celebrities can’t escape people. I’m not really lonely.” The only people who feel the need to insist they are not lonely are the ones who are, in fact, lonely.

Carlos forced a laugh. “Right, a joke. You tell a lot of those.”

“Maybe. It’s more fun that way. I’m really funny when I’m not sober, so funny that people think I’m serious. It makes me a man of mystery I guess.” Oh yes, a mystery I’m afraid to investigate but desperate to know.

“Speaking of not sober, how much alcohol did you have?” He wanted a grasp on how bad the situation was.

“I’m fine.” Carlos had been a cop. He was used to dodgy answers, but they still frustrated the hell out of him. He’s testing me. Trying to see if he can make me mad. I won’t let him. I have to be patient and keep my temper in check.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Fewer than all the bottles on that chair.” T.K. added, “A lot fewer. I’m not trying to die tonight.” Tonight, that’s what I’m worried about. What about the other nights?

“How much?” Carlos asked with his no nonsense cop voice. It’s been a while since I’ve used that.

T.K. looked unimpressed at the question. “Several shots. I didn’t even have a full bottle of tequila. But shots are just bad if you only do one, so you have to keep going until you feel something. By the time the first one kicks in, you realize that the rest will be by shortly to hit you with a fucking hammer.” Carlos fought the headache that T.K.’s drunken logic was creating. He rubbed a hand across his temple, wiping the sweat and stress from his brow. He forced his facial features to relax. I need to keep those emotions in their place or else I won’t be able to understand what he’s saying. I have to listen.

“Pills?”

T.K. shrugged, looking at his hands cagily, which gave Carlos a pretty good idea of what he was dealing with. An addict who will try getting high on pretty much anything.

“T.K., I need to know.” He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with the information, but it seemed like something he should know in case anything happened.

T.K.’s voice was quiet, and Carlos barely heard it over the murmuring of the central air working hard to cool the huge house. “Some Oxy. My favorite.” Carlos would put that piece of information into the T.K. file that he was compiling in his head, all the things that might come in handy someday when the inevitably awful stuff happened.

Yawning, T.K. plopped down onto the couch, and Carlos went to the kitchen and grabbed a recycling bin. He began loading the empty bottles into it. “You don’t have to do that,” T.K. protested. “It’s not your job.”

“I know, but it doesn’t help you to keep these here,” and to be honest, they were driving Carlos a little crazy.

“Why are you so nice?” It sounded like an accusation, skeptical and angry.

“I’m not.” I’m just bad at sitting around helplessly. I need something to keep me busy, and I hate looking at all those bottles and seeing him like this. “I like to keep my hands busy.”

T.K. winked, a sloppy wink. “I can think of a better use for those hands.” Oh, no. He did not just go there.

Carlos panicked. His jaw clenching. “Do not do that.”

“Do what?” T.K. asked as if he was completely innocent.

“Hit on me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be so hot.” Shut him up. Shut him up!

“I’m not hot. I’m just a guy, okay? Just a normal guy.”

“Normal, yeah, okay. Did you know that I’m really good with my mouth? I mean more than singing and stuff. I put enough junk in it to know how to use it.” T.K.’s eyes filled with hunger. He’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t actually want me. He’s just horny. Carlos felt like putting his fingers in his ears and screaming “la, la, la, la, la.”

“Stop it. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“But if it was sober? Would you be interested?” He’s so desperate to be wanted. He doesn’t even care who wants him.

“It would still be a no.”

“Why? Aren’t I attractive?” Oh yes, far too attractive for your own good.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m your bodyguard. I can’t be blurring those lines.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “The more you know my body, the better you can guard it.”

“I said no. You can respect that, can’t you?” Carlos’ voice was agitated. His anger radiated through the room and spread to T.K.

“I don’t force anything on anyone,” T.K.’s voice was sharp. “I wouldn’t want to fuck someone with a stick up his ass anyways.”

“You don’t get to be an asshole just because things don’t go your way. Maybe try facing your feelings instead of getting mad and acting like a diva when any semblance of a bad feeling enters your mind.” So much for containing my temper.

“Wow, Mr. Nice Guy does have a backbone, after all.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Being an asshole?”

“You’re trying to see how many buttons you can push before I get up, leave, and never come back.”

T.K.’s face fell. “Why does everyone think they have fucking psychology degrees?”

“What?” What in the world is he talking about?

T.K. didn’t explain. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t care either way. I’m happy enough alone. Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t have to leave.” He took a breath. It’d been a long time since he had tried to handle someone so self-defeating and so scared to let anyone get too close. “I don’t want to leave.” Part of him wanted to run for the hills and stop the attachment he was feeling for T.K. Like T.K., Carlos was scared of letting anyone get too close. He was scared of knowing people too well, which was why he’d planned on spending his Friday alone. But I don’t want to be alone.

“You should want to leave.”

“But I don’t want to.” If only I could get it through his thick skull that some people just want him around. They don’t care if he is a singer or famous or a party boy. They just want to have him. Judd, Marjan, even me. We want him to be the person he’s happiest being and not this person who can’t stand to look himself in the mirror or the person who never shows the real him because he’s afraid no one will like it.

“What made you so stubborn?” T.K. paused to think. “Or should I say who?” Don’t think about Taylor. Now’s not the time. No need to make unnecessary comparisons.

Carlos crossed his arms as if it would help him keep all the feelings rushing through his body contained. “I was born a week late and put my mom through eight hours of labor. I was born stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, I was born a good person. Now, I’m a piece of shit, so how we come into this world doesn’t have much to do with how we go out.” Hopefully, we won’t be going out any time soon. Hopefully, he doesn’t want to.

“What do you like most about yourself?” Carlos asked, and it felt abrupt, but he had wanted to catch T.K. off guard.

“Why does it matter?” T.K. was already defensive, and the question made him more resistant.

“No questions, just tell me.”

“Oh, bossy. I like it,” T.K. said more biting than flirty.

“Favorite part of yourself?” Carlos pushed.

T.K. was quiet for a few moments. His tone softened. “Hard choice there’s so much to like,” he tried to act confident, but Carlos could hear his voice cracking. “but I guess the thing people like most about me is that I’m fun, the life of the party.” Is that all he’s got?

“Why is it that you love to talk about yourself until I actually ask you to tell me something about yourself and then all you can talk about is what other people think.”

“Here’s the thing, Carlos. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not that interesting. I’m not that deep either. I’m just a vapid popstar who people like to think they know.” It sounded like defeat, and Carlos didn’t think the word popstar could ever sound so sad.

“You know what,” Carlos concluded. “Maybe you’re a rockstar after all.” T.K. looked up from his hands, eyes looking hopeful. Then, to make it sound less serious Carlos added, “Rockstar is a state of mind, after all.”

T.K. grinned at the inside joke, perking up a bit and letting a tentative grin appear on his face. “But I do play pop music,” he said. “So, maybe I’d rather be a popstar.” His eyes lingered on Carlos, “That stays between us, though.”

“Okay, popstar,” Carlos said clapping T.K. on the shoulder, and T.K.’s eyes flickered with something Carlos couldn’t quite make out. There’s so much to learn about T.K. Strand, so much that even his most devoted fans have even discovered. There’s a good person in there beneath all the layers of bravado. You don’t even have to dig that far to find them, but I want to bring that person out. I want to show him that there’s a place for the T.K. who can be happy.

[ladymelissaduthe]

Challenge #1.5

aka The Fic Where Arin Gets Stuck With Missy In An Inescapable Location (accidentally)

a/n: weirdly specific title, but It’ll make sense when I post Challenge 2, I promise AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA This was a really fun RP and fic to write, though it was slightly difficult what with the lack of visual cues in terms of writing,,, that’s what happens when you set something in the dark. ANYWHOS, thank you Anna @arin-schreave​ for this RP and for running with my crackhead ideas NJKSDNDKJD Anywhos, hope you enjoy this funny little fic ,,, also I promise everything about the ring ™™™™ will be revealed soon SJKNDKJKD (2,684 words) 

For a place that was twenty times the size of my own home back in Orleans, I was running out of things I could do in the palace. I was so desperate, I was actually in the library of all places.

Sure, there were the regular Women’s Room lessons for the day but we usually ended whatever was the day’s lessons early. Against the usual urge to scroll through my phone, learning a Tiktok dance in a gown wasn’t exactly the easiest. Doing the renegade was going to wait for a more casual day in the palace.

So I was in the library, browsing the bookcases and jeopardizing my poor immune system to some allergic rhinitis around these books.

There were a few books with interesting titles: The Creativity Crisis, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Business Process Re-engineering in Illéa to name a few.

The title that catches my attention though had a green spine, lined with gold. Embroidery Patterns from America. Huh, you don’t hear that name everyday. I could check it out and show it to my maids. Maybe try it out and do them myself on a dress I have.

I reach up for the book, extending my arms above me. I lean against the case for some support as I reach for it. It seemed stuck on the shelf though, not seeming to fully budge out of its place.

I try to pull it again, suddenly feeling the case slide open. Huh?

The next thing I know, I’m on the ground of a dark hallway and hearing the case slide close behind me, and the light leave the entire space. Oh no.

Where was I?

Why was it so dark? Oh Gosh, the floor felt like it hasn’t seen a vacuum cleaner in a decade.

I couldn’t make out where I was exactly, but it was dusty and smelled like one of those old historical houses in Orleans tourists would visit all the time

I try to look around and feel for the way I came through.

“Hello!” my voice seems to echo in the space. Maybe if I kept on yelling someone could get me outta here. “Help!”

“Can anyone help me?!” I yell again, hoping someone passing by the case would hear me. I try banging against the wall, sounding almost hollow. It sounded like wood.

“Hello!” I call out again. Please someone GET ME OUT OF HERE.

I keep on trying to yell to get anyone to realize I was trapped here. Was this… a dungeon? Did the palace keep prisoners here? Oh Gosh, I was going to get stuck here. Questions later. I needed to get outta here.

A knock.

I’m saved! I could kiss whoever was going to get me out of here. Or not, cause that sounded like treason.

“Hello! Is someone else there?!” Please get me out of here ASAP, I’m pretty sure there are spiders here.

“This isn’t funny. I don’t care if Ayesha put you up to it, knock it off.”  

Are you flipping kidding me? Who the hell was Ayesha?

“Uh… I can’t quite knock it off!” I feel something crawl along my feet and like any normal person… I scream. “I REALLY DON’T LIKE IT IN HERE! PLEASE I JUST FELL THROUGH THE WALL!”

“Really the jig is up.” I hear shuffling from the other side. Did they really just???

“This ain’t no dance sweetheart! PLEASE JUST HELP ME GET OUTTA HERE! I THINK THERE ARE SpidE-ERS!” I feel something crawl across my feet and I pound my fist against the wall again, “THIS ISN’T A JOKE! HELP!”

Silence.

It was quiet from the other side. Did…. They…. Just…. Leave me here?

I bang my fists against the wall again. “Hello?! HELLO???? HELLOOOOOOO!!!”

Footsteps sound like they’re fading away. Oh no, I was going to be trapped here forever. I didn’t even write a will yet. Oh Gosh, I haven’t even gotten married yet. I was gonna get trapped in this weird dark hallway for the rest of my life.

No. If no one was going to get me out of here, I was going to get myself out of here. The way my voice echoed meant that I was in a huge space. Maybe if I just… walked down?

And get even more lost?

Maybe if I—

I jump at the sudden motion of the wall. The wall in front of me suddenly gives way and opens, LIGHT. I see light…

“Hello…?”

“Oh thank sweet baby Jesus,” I say walking towards the opening, towards the light…

… and Arin Schreave.

I pick up my jaw from the floor before I quickly try to push some of my hair behind my ears. Oh of all times, Arin Schreave had to see me covered in dust bunnies? Not cute… AT ALL.

“ah… hello!”

Oh wow. This looked more like a hallway with a little more light shined on it… still very dusty.

The prince takes another step into this hallway, until I see the door starting to close behind him. I feel myself jump at the sound of the door shutting. Once again, the room was blanketed in darkness.

“Shit.”

“Nonononono!” I run back to where the door was, looking for something, anything, to get us out of here. Come on. All the escape room games have some kind of button to press. Maybe the prince knew something.

“Do these not open from this side…” MANNERS. “… your highness?”

“Uh…” I hear a sigh come from my right. “There’s a button somewhere around here but I don’t quite remember where.” So he did know something.

I hear a couple of steps grow louder from the direction of his voice, until I feel myself stumble backward. Did he just run into me? I reach for the wall to keep myself from toppling over. Oh. There was a hand on my waist.

“Oof, uh, sorry.” I try to move closer to the wall to avoid bumping into him. Why did it suddenly get so hot? Must be my allergies.

“No, that was my fault.” I could start making out his silhouette, moving close to the wall too. The hand around my waist was gone too.

I clear my throat, and push some of my hair back. Oh of all people to have heard me, it had to be Arin Schreave.

“I suppose you were the one on the other side of the wall I was talking to?”

“Uh, yes… I was… sorry I didn’t believe you.”

I wring my hands. I wouldn’t have believed this happened if it didn’t happen to me. “Well… whatever Ayesha may have pulled on you before… it must have been pretty bad for you to be this skeptical…”

A sigh. “I’m used to it.”

Thank God I was an only child.

Prince Arin goes silent for a moment before he says, “Just give me a minute to think?”

“Alrighty.” I suck in a breath and nod, going a little further down the wall. He said that there was a button around here. Maybe I could find it here. I try to run my hand through the wall, looking for an imperfection, a bump that could trigger the door to open.

“I think there’s a button on one of the wall, down by the floor.” I hear the prince speak up. I guess I was sort of right.

“Why would you put a switch down by the floor?” I ask. Well, there was nothing else I could do but crouch down and start feeling for it close to the floor. Ugh, all I could feel was the material of my dress pool to the ground. I try to push it away to try and keep on searching the wall.

“Not the way I thought I’d be spending this afternoon.” I laugh to myself. This was ridiculous.

“Trust me, I definitely didn’t plan for this.” I hear a sigh, “It’s near the floor so it doesn’t accidentally get pushed. It’ll feel like a small hole…”

I shake my head, hands still gliding through the wall, “Reasonable, but this is already a secret passageway. Not many people would press a button accidentally.”

I sneeze, “Oh wait.”

A small laugh from my left. “It’s uh… from when the country had rebels and the last thing you’d want to do is open one of these on accident if you were trapped inside.”

“Were rebels that much of a problem for you to have constructed these?” It had to be around here close to the door. “If I were a button… where would I be…”

“According to the history books I’ve read, yes. They were. But as a kid we used these tunnels during games of hide and seek.”

“I can tell from the dust, ” I sneeze on my elbow, “bunnies, that it’s probably been a long time since you played games here.” ACHOO! “And it’s been a while since rebels have attacked too, I guess.”

“Over 50 years… but I wouldn’t trust the dust bunnies. They could be harboring anti-monarchy sentiments.”

“Ah yes, rebellious dust bunnies. Practically planning anarchy through allergies and sticking onto your clothes unnecessarily.” I shake my head. I can’t believe this was my first conversation with the prince after meeting him… in a DARK, dusty, old, probably abandoned secret tunnel. ROMANTIC.

“They’re sneaky little buggers that make terrible pets.” I hear some shuffling from his side until I feel something bump into me.

“OOF!” I sneeze again into my elbow, before shuffling away from him. Come on Prince Arin, let’s practice some spatial awareness. “I just wanted to see some embroidery patterns. Who rigs a book of embroidery patterns to trigger a weird door?”

I sneeze, sitting up on the heels of my feet. I hate having allergies.

“Someone who doesn’t think embroidery is interesting I’m guessing.”

I lift a shoulder up, “Fair.”

I shake my head before going back to the wall and try feeling it for the button again. “It’s still fun though. Embroidery, I mean.”

“I don’t know much about it honestly.” I hear a grunt come from Arin.

ACHOO. “Just a needle and a thread honestly. That’s what my mama used to tell me.” I fumble through the wall, still looking for the button. “She used to be a seamtress before she married my dad.”

“Aha”

I hear a click before the door seems to slide open. Light. FRESH AIR.

“Oh thank God.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. I immediately stand up, albeit a bit wobbly, before I offer my hand to Arin.

He doesn’t take my hand, instead standing on his own and brushing off the dust from his pants. I tuck my hand in my other, dusting myself too.

His eyes then set on me. Oh I must look horrible. Of all times, it had to be a time where I didn’t look cute.

“Oh um… you have a little something right here.” He gestures to his head.

UGHHHHHH

“Oh,” I pat my head for whatever was there. “You also have um… what is… that…” I peer closer. It didn’t look like a speck of dust, it looked like it was moving. It had… legs?

“It’S A SPIDER.”

“oh!” I watch him quickly brush the spider off, but I watch as he swats it and gets accidentally flung at me.

I do what a normal would do in this situation.

I shriek, but I quickly swat it off my dress to the ground and running the HELL away from it. I then hear a small clinking sound. “Oh no…”

I look down to my right hand. My ring. It was gone.

Arin’s eyes follow the noise, he himself following after it to investigate.

Now this was awkward. I follow after where the sound stopped, where Arin bends down to look for the source.

“Um… I got it.” He seems to have found it, picking it up and straightens.

I step up to him and hold my palm open, “T-thank you. I can take this now.”

Oh great Melissa. Sure, a ring wasn’t going to give him any war flashbacks at all… or worse… make him start asking questions about it.

Arin clears his throat as he hands the ring to me. “Well, that’s not something you’d want to lose.”

“Nope,” I take the ring and slip it back on my right index finger. Why did I get it resized? That was a stupid decision, now it was way too big for any of my fingers. “It’s my Grammy’s ring.” I laugh slightly before looking back to him.

He nods. “Ah well… Maybe you should have it resized so you don’t lose it. Rings like that tend to be sentimental.”

It was sentimental, and trust me, it already has been resized.

I clench my right hand, making sure it wouldn’t slip off again.

“It doesn’t normally fall off, at least not all the time.” I tilt my head. “And yes, this one is really sentimental to me.”

I couldn’t bear to part with this piece.

“I can see that. It reminds me of my mom’s old wedding ring.” Arin says, and I notice him swallow nervously. “I just mean it’s pretty.”

I take a moment to blink at the wedding ring remark.

“Actually,” I laugh slightly. “this was my Grammy’s wedding ring.”

Grandpa said he saved for an entire year to buy her this ring. Back then, things weren’t so easy for them or his orchard.

I lift a shoulder, continuing. “It was my mom’s, and then it was passed down to me.” It was a thin gold band surrounded with little diamonds. No big jewel or anything. Just tiny little diamonds. Grandpa had some taste. I scrunch up my nose and breathe out a laugh. “Thank you… for calling it pretty.”

“Of course.” He nods a bit awkwardly before glancing to the door. “Did you want to get our of here?”

Oh right, I almost forgot.

“Yes, please.” I lift my skirt to move quicker to the door before it closed in on us again. I wasn’t gonna stuck in that room again. “Thank you again for helping me.”

ACHOO!

“Sorry for not believing you…”

Arin seems to follow behind me. As we both get out of the room, he shuts the door behind us. Good. I never wanted to see that tunnel again. Ever.

I lift a shoulder, “Easy mistake, I probably would have freaked out if I heard a voice from the other side of the wall and not believe that there was a secret hallway over there.” I gesture my head to the bookcase.

“Just try not to do it again.” A small smile appears on his face. He should smile more. “The dust bunnies might not be as friendly next time.”

“I’m more worried about the spiders.” ACHOO! “Might wanna ask a couple of maids to maybe spruce it up a bit, maybe add some nice lighting, maybe an exit sign inside.”

I end up sneezing again, can’t helping but laugh at the situation.

“There’re actually lights in there…”

“That could have been useful a couple of minutes ago.” I chuckle before ACHOO! “Well, that… was an adventure, but I think I need a hot shower to wash that hallway off.” Or a bubble bath, a bubble bath seemed nice.

I give Arin a quick curtsy with a smile, “Thank you again for getting me outta there, your highness.”

In turn, he gives me a smile and a nod. “Of course.” He gives me a bow. That’s.. a first. “I hope the rest of your day is better.”

To be honest, this… was actually fun. It was nice to get to interact with Arin.

“Have a nice day!” I nod once with a smile and spin on my heel,  d lifting my skirt and heading straight to my room.

I had a feeling that things were going just fine with Arin. It was a start, that’s all I needed.

[imagine-richards]

sfw alphabet- Cliff Booth

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He loves touching you. He’ll hold your thigh while he drives, he’ll have his arm around you when you’re out at a bar or the cinema, he’ll hold your hand while you’re walking, but he usually only kisses you in public if he’s really comfortable (e.g. when you go out with Rick and Francesca). At home, he’s even more affectionate. He’s constantly kissing you, slapping your ass, cuddling you in bed, giving you foot rubs. He just wants you to feel like royalty.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) It’s hard to imagine you and Cliff as friends, because you’re so good as a couple, but at one point you were. You were both totally in love with the other but wanted to keep it cool. He was always there for you and lifted you up whenever you felt down. He was your number 1 fan. It was also complete torture for the both of you to not give into your feelings.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) He likes cuddling before bed and after sex. He’s always little spoon because he loves how your little frame fits into his and he adores the sight of you wrapped in his big arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) He’s a terrible cook. And a terrible cleaner. He isn’t domestic at all, but when you move in together he starts caring so much more about things like that and actually starts making an effort. Any and all meals end in disaster, but he actually picks Brandy’s bowl up when he feeds her, so there isn’t dog food all over the floor.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) It would be so hard for him, and the only reason he would ever break up with you would be because he doesn’t think he’s giving you the life you deserve or he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you. He’d know you wouldn’t take that for an answer, so he’d lie, his insecurities convincing him that it’s for your own good, even though he’s the best thing that has ever happened to you and he’d never believe that to be true.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) After the mess of his first marriage, he had always said he wasn’t going to commit like that again. He started dating you, warned you about his hatred of marriage and you accepted it. That was why it was such a shock when he told you that, one day, he was going to marry you. He proposed on your second anniversary. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) He’s so gentle with you physically (unless you ask him not to be). He’s also sweet and caring and you feel like you’ve found a side of him no-one else has ever seen.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) He loves wrapping his arms around you. You have just the right height difference that his chin fits perfectly atop your head. He loves hugging you. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you. He doesn’t really do it much around other people, though.)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) He knew he would be in love with you the minute he set eyes on you. He knew he loved you the first time he saw you walking around in one of his shirts after you made him dinner dressed exactly like that. He told you he was in love with you the first thing the next morning. This all happened in a month.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He truly believes that you are out of his league and that you could easily find someone so much better than him, so it’s hard for him not to get jealous. He tries to hide it, so he doesn’t end up pushing you away, but you always see the muscle in his jaw flutter and the grip on your hand tighten when he feels threatened.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) He kisses the top of your head and your forehead a lot, because of the height difference. He loves it when he picks you up and you wrap your legs around him while you make out and he really enjoys it when you straddle him. Neck kisses are his weakness, but when it comes to him kissing you, he loves peppering your whole body in them, just to tease you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He’s not the biggest fan of children, which he has told you since the beginning. He didn’t want children at all, even. And then one day your sister came to visit with your niece and he saw how you were with her and you saw how he was with her and now... well, he’s got some rethinking to do. (He also thinks the more you in the world the better). He’s wonderful with children and they love him, despite his hard demeanour. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Lazy mornings are spent in bed, occasionally kicking Brandy out to have sex, then cuddling. There are few words in the morning, you two just enjoy looking at each other and lying there entangled together.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) It depends on the vibe. Sometimes, you, Cliff, Rich and Fransesca go out for drinks. You all get on so well, so those nights are always great. Sometimes, he’ll take you out on a date (see T), and sometimes you’ll stay home and get high together, discussing anything and everything about the world. You almost always have amazing sex when you’re high.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) It took a while to crack him, especially about his ex-wife, because Cliff wanted so badly to seem like the untouchable badass he did the stunts for on TV. He was certain that was why you liked him, but once you managed to get him to open up, you find things out about Cliff Booth that no-one else will ever know. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) When it comes to you, it is near impossible for him to lose his temper, which is weird, considering how quick to anger he is with anyone else who crosses you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) He tries his best, but Cliff has the worst memory. He bought a diary specifically so he didn’t forget things like your birthday, but he forgets to use it. (Although he never forgets the time he beat you at pool).

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?) Your first time together.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Is this even a question? Someone so much as even looks at you and he’s in fight mode. Cliff is the most protective person you’ve ever met. Of course, you find his temper intimidating, but as much as you hate to admit it, it is a total turn-on when he kicks someone's ass for catcalling you. You have obviously never kicked someone's ass to protect him, but Cliff once overheard you on the phone to your parents defending his career and his life and he actually shed a tear. He’s never told you that he heard that, though.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) So much effort. He loves taking you out and showing you off. Rick helps out, lending the car and pulling favours for cool dates, just because he sees how happy you make his best friend. Even when Cliff can’t ask Rick, he’ll use whatever little money he has to make sure you feel like a princess. As for everyday tasks, he’s pretty traditional (it is the 70′s, after all). He does the fixing and the heavy lifting, but is completely useless at cooking. He tries his best for you, though, but you eventually stopped letting him in the kitchen.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) His temper, the way he turns to violence straight away and how messy he is with his trailer.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He can be into his looks, but it’s mainly when you’re hyping him up (telling him how hot he is, how lucky you are, etc.) and when he takes you out, he tries his best to look good for you. (He never has to try very hard, in your opinion).

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Absolutely. He’s so insecure about his career and where his life is going and how little he’s achieved, but then he takes one look at you and realises he’s not doing so bad at all. He knows he’d rather be on the streets with not a penny to his name, as long as he has you. Without you, he’s nothing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Despite staying cool about the whole thing, what happened at Rick’s with the ‘Manson family’ really scarred him. No-one knows this but you, and even then you only found out because he woke up in a cold sweat, brandishing an imaginary knife and screaming at you. You’re still in the process of trying to get him to see someone, even as the night terrors and panic attacks get a little more frequent.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner? He hates when you hitchhike, purely from past experience, or if you’re ever in a dangerous situation and he can’t do anything about it. He hates feeling helpless when it comes to you. He hates when you’re hard on yourself.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) He sleeps really well when you’re next to him. He usually goes to bed really late and wakes up pretty early (unless it’s been a heavy night of drinking with Rick, then he’s a pretty late riser), but he’s always careful not to wake you and enjoys just laying there with you.

a/n-200 followers! Thank you so much. This is my first thank you gift to you all, the second is coming tomorrow! I love you all so much and can’t thank you enough for all your support! If you want to check out my other work, my masterlist has it all, along with what I write/what you can request! 

[guardianoracle]

What is a guardian? I made a quick guide explaining them! I'll be looking forward to posting my new fellas here over the coming days.

Guardians are a type of egregore, bound to an idol for physical form. The materials themselves can be virtually anything. The only thing that matters is what you think their effect will be on the finished guardian. 

It is also very important to make sure to use sturdy materials in crafting them. You want it to be string enough to withstand things like falls, rips, dogs, poltergeists, what have you. This not only helps keep them intact, but it reinforces your idea of their strength to protect them further on a spiritual level, too. 

You want to let go of imposing your ideas while crafting them, allowing your ideas to pool into a chaotic jumble of your initial impression of the spirit of the guardian you're crafting. Of course, you want to guide this chaotic energy to a degree to make sure things stay consistent and stable in the process. No matter what, trust and believe that it will turn out exactly as it should. Believe that it's spirit is helping guide it's creation and let it's creativity flow through yours. 

It's important to take this work very seriously and approach it with patience, persistence and care. This process uses the same faculties as wandmaking or enchantments. This process is assisted with skills in things like mediumship/channeling, enchanting, tulpamancy, thinking magick and magickal observation. Warding and banishment is important, too. You are crafting an egregore. A companion and friend. It is very important to treat them that way, as a true partner. They are your responsibility. 

As with any relationship, keeping strong boundaries is most important. You need to be steadfast in them. You are creating a living soul. All living souls will push and test boundaries, especially with whom they are closest with. This is completely natural and they should not be punished for doing these things, but a stern correction may be necessary from time to time. 

It is imperative to establish your authority with them from your first interaction. An easy way to think of it is to imagine them as your teenage children in a way. You are still their authority, but they are your obligation and will need your guidance to stay out of trouble. Even though you must dictate their behavior to a degree, it is very important to treat them with the utmost respect and not micromanage them. Even though they are yours in a way, they are their own individual and must be treated as such. 

Some people like to design every little aspect of their egregores. This can make them more tailored to your needs, but it restricts the entity to a degree that can make them feel depressingly robotic in my experience. Or, they may react by withholding information about themselves from you so that they won't risk losing those aspects of themselves. Fear of rejection is something that affects us pretty much universally, and objects or artificial things aren't necessarily spared from it. 

Personally, I leave my intentions towards their usage very open-ended. I prefer to instill morals into them over assigning purposes to them. You are their mentor in a way, as they are yours. Giving them the freedom to become who they want to be, with some level of structure, has given these things a level of humanity and personality that I couldn't feel more blessed to be able to witness. Even though this relaxed approach can be significantly more risky, it is my opinion that these risks yield great rewards and taking that leap into the unknown can allow you to experience so much more than you would otherwise. Always trust that things will happen as they should. 

Guardians get lonely, too. It's usually best to make companions for them. My guardians typically have a soul mate made for them as well. This ensures that they have a partner in their life, romantic, platonic or otherwise. They generally become inseparable partners in this way and have similar or very compatible souls with each other. 

Creating a tribe of guardians is a great way to give them a sense of family and identity. This also adds a layer of accountability between them. They are egregores after all, and will remain active without you. Giving them a pack gives them a way to stay occupied and fulfilled with each other while you're away. Of course this isn't exactly necessary and can be a big commitment to make. Regardless, socializing your guardians is essential to avoid unwanted antisocial behaviors. 

After you create a guardian, you're going to want to make sure they're awake. You hear them with your mind's ear, so attempt telepathic communication with them, even if you don't necessarily think you'll be able to. You'd be surprised. Ask for their name. If they won't tell you for whatever reason, ask if a nickname would be acceptable. There is a chance that they haven't decided on a name just yet, or that they can't figure out how to express their name with language, or they may not consider you ready enough to know. This is very personal information to them. You must respect their boundaries too, even if this is one. Don't try to find their name before they're ready to tell you. This is crossing a personal boundary and will hurt your relationship with them right off the bat. 

Remember, these are companions, not your tools. If you cannot sufficiently communicate with them you can try to use divination to communicate instead of telepathy. Communication is key to a healthy relationship with them. Ask them about their wants and needs. Ask them about what they've been up to. The answers might surprise you! They do live lives on the edge of our realities in a way that are completely different from our own. As we teach them about our world, they teach us about theirs. 

Go into your creation with an open mind. The perfect guardian for you may be something you'd never expect, or might even fear! Look at them as individuals and don't put flash judgments on them.

Use whatever you have handy to create them! Of course you can buy things instead, and if you do, make it special and treat the trip as a significant spiritual event, because it is. I prefer found objects though, as some of the best art seems to come from scarcity in my opinion. It's also best to use materials you connect with. I'm using pipe cleaners for these guys and that works wonderfully for me, but it might not for you. Use your instincts! Express your divinity. 

As with any enchantments, it's best to spend the with them after they've been born. I usually keep them with me for at least a week or two afterwards. As you spend time with them they get to know you, your life and the people around you. This helps them understand your needs better and improves your relationship with them significantly. They will learn their role in your life organically, based on necessity. This also helps you get familiar with them and their energy. 

Have a safety plan in mind, just in case something goes wrong. Plans on how to protect them or save them are important in case they get attacked or injured. It's also important to have in mind a way to destroy them if they turn into something dangerous. It is your responsibility to do so if you have to, but as a last resort of course. Fire and banishment is a method. As long as a fragment of them exists, they may live on. This is also my disclaimer. Playing with fire is a great thing, just don't let it consume you. I'm not encouraging anyone to make these, just explaining my process and opinions to anyone that has decided to do so already, or is curious as to these things. 

Don't forget about them. If you store them, store them together and have a special place to do so. If you can no longer care for them, consider selling them to transfer ownership. Always, always explain to the buyer what they are getting themselves into. Otherwise, this would be a spiritual attack and you will need to deal with the ramifications of this. Don't let the guardians fall into loneliness to the point of despair. Give them the ability to sleep. Unnecessary despair breeds all sorts of negativity and can cause all sorts of issues. 

Do not insist on asking for something they are not able to do. They may not be allowed to, or even be able to tell you why. You should respectfully as for their reasons and then respect their decision and privacy by allowing them to keep it to themselves if that's what they want to do. 

Don't hold back! If you have an idea, go for it. The worst that'll happen is you'll fail. At least you'll go down with courage! Push your limits. Believe you are more than you think, and you might start seeing that you really, really are. Trust yourself and be yourself. Create what you feel called to. Create for the sake of creating. Don't worry so much about rules or systems, you are perfectly qualified to make your own! You don't need loads of experience to do so. Let your instincts guide you instead, see where it goes. As long as you do that, whatever you do will be wonderfully magickal regardless. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN TREVOR

But it worked so well, and we knew that buyers would have a big pool of potential users, at least. Web browser.1 Angels were generally much better to talk to someone, I could usually get to the end of each film, so they know who might be interested in this mystery—for the same destination, just approaching it from different directions. I recommend you solve this problem, if you find someone else working on the biggest things inexperienced founders and investors are probably more where it's considered especially polite to compliment someone's clothing than where it's considered improper. VCs want to blow you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and spam in particular. Basically at 25 he started running as fast as possible. And what are the universities thinking?

The next best, for startups that aren't charging initially, is active users. When you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one wants to be the thing-that-doesn't-scale that defines your company.2 That principle, like the relative merits of programming languages is to give you enough money to last for a year or a hundred times as productive as those working for money, they'll work a lot harder on stuff they like. 5-7% of a company like Apple and think, how hard can it be? Economically, you can do in your spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment. They do more in their heads: they try to do things that seem to be: a lot of them. The third big lesson we can learn, or at least, there is no one within big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders. When I look back it's like there's a line drawn between third and fourth grade. That's what makes sex and drugs, it would be good to solve?

Prep schools openly say this is one reason I'd bet on the curve, at any given time get away with it, and the different parts of the company through the COO. Object-oriented programming in the 1980s was enabled by a combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, starting with the assumption that we would never get started. Not because it's causing economic inequality, you decrease the number of startups that get bought early. It's not a deal till the money's in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. I'm optimistic. They think that there will be ten JetBlues.3 If you try to attack wealth, you end up doing something chosen for you by syndicates.

And you don't want to see the Valley itself, but it goes fast. What Happened to Yahoo August 2010 When I went to.4 What this means in practice. That makes him seem like a winner, they may avoid publishing's problems. After reading a draft, Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell has made a handy calculator you can use them as communication devices.5 You not only have to filter email from people you'd never heard from, or about, a startup has decreased dramatically. Startups are that constrained for talent. But it's harder than it sounds.6 Smallness Measurement If you can't measure the value of products is in software. You don't have to rely on. Hackers just want power.

I knew she was about to say you'd have to be fired, and one of your most powerful weapons, I think this is true for funding. The best was that the company was itself a kind of argument that might be called the Hail Mary strategy. They don't have time to work, just like a software company. But it hardly ever is. My friend Robert learned a lot by writing network software when he was a startup, then hand them off to go away.7 Sun. Oxford had a chair of Chinese before it had one of English.

Which means the slowdown that comes from being in America. And in fact the two forces are related: they're the ones who like running their company so much that resembling nature is intrinsically good as that nature has had a couple thousand Altair owners, but without the substance. Ditto for hacking. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley and are quick to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. We were all starting from scratch, that's a really bad sign.8 More important, I think it's cleaner if you openly charge subscription fees, instead of just looking at them all is through a computer. Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. The stock of a company as big as Java, or bigger, just on the partner you talk to startups, a lot of investors are interested in, that's not necessarily a mistake to use the term Collison installation for the technique they invented. FreeBSD, which I'm running on the computer I'm using now, and they're not coming back. Court hierarchies are another thing entirely. In practice offers exist for stretches of time, if your business model in the world look like this? Startups don't win by winning lawsuits.

5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives. When I was in college that there were about 20,000. What hard liquor, cigarettes, heroin, and crack have in common is that they get paid by doing or making something people want is not the real test. Ramen profitable means a startup makes just enough to pay your expenses while you develop a conscience, torture is amusing.9 Wouldn't that at least someone really loves. Sex, or something just as bad. I can see a path that's not immediately obvious; that's one of the most important quality in an investor is to say that the unsuccessful founders would also fail to chase down funding, and investors tend to take these for granted now, but only because people have found even more addictive ways of wasting time. It does not seem to be several categories of cuts: things I got wrong, because if you don't, you're hosed. So we should expect founders to do it yourself. If you actually started acting like adults, it seemed to them what e-commerce business back in the day, but who want it urgently. 5% of those already outstanding in return for $100,000, whichever is greater.

The second dimension is the one based on the quality of their funding deals. So I want to zoom in on one detail of this picture. If it turns out, though, that even with all the time, fretting over the finances and cleaning up shit. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a suitable recipient for the size of the market anyway. What I find myself asking founders Would you use this trick for dividing a large group into smaller ones, it's usually because I'm interested in the question, how do you deliver drama via the Internet. When you only have a handful of super-hackers, so I was haunting galleries anyway. But I know the real reason: the product is only moderately appealing. Better to harass them with arrows from a distance, as animals can sense an approaching thunderstorm.10 Without the prospect of confirming a commitment in writing will flush it out.

Notes

Since we're not doing YC mainly for financial reasons, including both you and listen only to emphasize that whatever the false positives reflecting the remaining outcomes don't have to do, just their sizes. The problem with most of their origins in words about luck. It was common in the imprecise half. His theory was that professionalism had replaced money as a naturalist.

If you wanted to than because they need them to represent anything.

From? The way to fight. The Harmless People and The Old Way. I know, Lisp code.

Do not finance your startup.

Why go to grad school you always feel you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what I think is happening when you depend on closing a deal to move from Chicago to Silicon Valley, but as the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else books a package tour. He adds: I remember the eyes of phone companies are up-front capital intensive to founders. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us that the money they receive represents wealth—wealth that, isn't it? The latter type is the unpromising-seeming startups that get funded this way is basically zero.

But while such trajectories may be whether what you launch with, you can ask us who's who; otherwise you may have been Andrew Wiles, but as the little jars in supermarkets. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a different type of mail, I have so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say, ending up on the other direction Y Combinator. This is an instance of a business is to carry a beeper? This trend is one of those most vocal on the LL1 mailing list.

The First Two Hundred Years. Who continued to live inexpensively as their companies took off? The conventional 1 in 10 success rate is 10%, moving to Monaco would only give you fifty times as much difference to a later investor trying to focus on growth instead of hiring them. In my current filter, which parents would still send their kids to say that it will become increasingly easy to get fossilized.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the iPad because it depends on the firm's site, June 2004: While the US. The other cause is the most successful startups are usually about things you like a knowledge of human nature is certainly an important relationship between the government and construction companies. People tell the craziest lies about me. Patent trolls can't even trust the design world's internal standards.

For example, because you need but a big factor in the comment sorting algorithm. Horace, Sat.

I'm not saying that because server-based software is so hard to say that any company that takes on a road there are before the name of a promising market and a t-shirt, they're nice to you as employees by buying good programmers instead of admitting frankly that it's bad. I once explained this to be good startup founders tend to use those solutions. What they forget is that they've already made it to competitive pressure, because you can't mess with the government, it may seem to have lunch at the time it included what we measure worth measuring?