#its happened before like half a year ago i had to go home early once because of how bad i was feeling

[storywestistrash]

got a sudden jolt of pain from my stomach to my chest but it made my guts not hurt for a moment? win?

[tavolgisvist]

Paul once reminded me, ‘Don’t forget, you’re not very good, any of you, you know that, don’t you?’ I had forgotten, I had. It had gotten to the point where I was really believing in myself, you know, really having a good time being me. Apple was in its (comparatively) early days. I had been back from America three months, this was summer 1968. It was design time for stationery and advertisements and logos, we were building our image by being and that was trouble, being. Being was sticking your neck out and getting bites all over it. I don’t think I ever hated anyone as much as I hated Paul in the summer of 1968. Postcards would arrive at my house from America or Scotland or wherever, some outright nasty ones, some with no meaning that I could see, one with a postage stamp torn in half and pasted neatly showing the gap between the two halves. Joan received one bearing the words: ‘Tell your boy to obey the schoolmasters,’ and signed: ‘Patron.’ Far out. Lots of people were getting postcards in those days; Christ, you know it wasn’t easy. These were the days long before Klein came to town. These were the days when Neil Aspinall as Managing Director would come to my room in Apple in the middle of the day and collapse on the sofa and sit, staring and staring. He tells me now it was fear. I knew then it was fear. We were all frightened. We were frightened of Them and we were frightened of each other and we were frightened of the press. At about this time Paul wrote ‘Hey Jude’. Remember: make a sad song better.

...

Something happened last week which was most significant – I signed my name with a flourish and it was a legible signature and it said: Derek Taylor. In the ordinary way I dare say this would mean very little – but it was fantastic how good it felt at the time. I blame no one but myself and I mention it only because it happened and it was wonderful. As I said, it was three years ago this month that Paul said to us: ‘Remember, you’re not really any good, any of you, you know that, don’t you?’ My God, it had been a long fight uphill most of the way, learning how to be and I credit the Beatles with astonishingly generous support for my efforts. My job in journalism was going very well indeed when we met, if you regard the Beaverbrook Press as something of value – and I did then, don’t now, hate its attitudes and stinking bigotry with fierce passion – then I was making some good time for myself but then I met the Beatles and that was the something else that millions of us were to pick up on and feed off and feed and feed off in one great seven-year feast. They broadened my vision and narrowed my margins of error, they straightened my path, loosened my tie, and they taught me to stand up and speak out. They hastened my classlessness, turned me on and inside out, literally put acid in my tea and in Joan’s, gave me presents, took my word for a lot of things, took my views on other things, my praise when it was offered free, bought my labour when it was offered for money and in the end, and in the end, by December 1970, I suffered an identity loss so crucial that when Richard DiLello returned to the Apple he had joined as an office boy and left as an apathetic wreck, returned as photographer and designer of the last Apple Christmas card which was to feature all our tense, cautious faces, I walked like a robot to a white expensively designed hollow white plastic rhomboid, placed it over my head, sat in the Director’s chair and posed faceless as one of the 365 arses Yoko once filmed. It was time to leave, I guess, and I went. It was New Year’s Eve 1970. You have read about the early part of that year, when George had sent me home: ‘Write,’ he said, ‘you have a lot to say.’ Dear George. I have nothing to say about George that isn’t loving and warm, and elder brotherly. Considering everything, he is a saint. He sent me home because there was nothing left for me to save at Apple – I don’t think I knew the half, not a quarter, not a tiny fraction of the background to staff movements in the last days of Pompeii, when the boiling shit hit the fan and sprayed over leaders and followers alike, leaving us all feeling grubby and ugly and useless. Was it true then, like Paul had said, and John was later to say and say and say again, that we were all of us, the inner clique, worthless, talentless? No, it was not true. We’re alive … and to prove it, we’re here.

...

I guess everything got too big, too bloody vast for human beings, frail, ill-prepared human beings, to cope, whether Beatles (and we had to concede it in the end, oh yes we did, they were human, should have realised that when Ringo had his tonsils out with the bidding at $10,000 for them), or us, nervous at their feet. We couldn’t take it. So … so … in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. We weren’t making much love in the late sixties, not any of us. All the bold gold promises of heaven on earth for all artists everywhere, they went out the window by summer of 68 and by 1969 even Magic Alex was unmagicked. Came 1970 and even going to the pictures to see Let It Be was cause for guilt and shame? Christ! The manner of the ending of the Beatles is a shame, a real bad bummer. Maybe one day it will seem easier, I trust so. But had they continued, they and all of us who gave them their fixes and got our own in return, we would not have survived to tell the tale. I say now, it didn’t end a day too soon.

(As Time Goes by Derek Taylor)

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

Btw, about ‘Don’t forget, you’re not very good, any of you, you know that, don’t you?’ from John:

Q: How do you feel towards the Beatle people? All of them who used to – some still do – work at Apple, who’ve been around during those years. Neil Aspinal, Mal Evans . . . JOHN: I didn’t mention Mal. I said Neil, Peter Brown and Derek. They live in a dream of Beatle past, and everything they do is oriented to that. They also have a warped view of what was happening. I suppose we all do. Q: They must feel now that their lives are inextricably bound up in yours. JOHN: Well, they have to grow up then. They’ve only had half their life, and they’ve got another whole half to go; and they can’t go on pretending to be Beatles. That’s where it’s at, I mean when they read this, they’ll think it’s “cracked John,” if it’s in the article, but that’s where it’s at, they live in the past. You see, I presumed that I would just be able to carry on, and bring Yoko into our life, but it seemed that I had to either be married to them or Yoko, and I chose Yoko, and I was right.

(John Lennon, December 1970, interview with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone)

[aastarions]

It's quiet when Zhongli first awakens, though silence no longer holds its once tranquil meaning.

No longer does he find comfort in the calm of the morning, taking in the sounds of birds chirping outside his bedroom window or the chatter of nearby passerbys.

He's quick on his feet, shuffling through his home with haste until he reaches the only door cracked ajar. With bated breath he eases it open, eyes immediately darting for the small crib that holds his entire universe within it.

Zhongli can't quite quell the grin that spreads along his lips at the sight of his baby girl sound asleep; it happens to be a rare sight.

More often than not the two of you are awoken like clockwork to the harsh cries of your little one, taking turns throughout the night and early morning to tend to her needs.

This is the first morning since she's arrived home - three and a half months ago - that she's slept through the entire night.

"How you seem to be growing up right before my very eyes, little dove," Zhongli hums over the infant, allowing the back of his finger to caress her soft, chubby cheeks, "I fear I am not quite ready to handle the ache in my chest that accompanies one's child aging."

"She's only going to be four months old soon, dear," Your voice drags his attention away from the baby, a power only you hold.

Zhongli watches as you wander over to the crib, curling your gentle fingers around his bicep once you're at his side as you further reassure him, "You don't have to worry about her leaving us any time soon."

"I know," He removes his arm from your hold, but only so that he can curl it around your back and press you close to his frame. "You're right, but I have been alive for thousands upon thousands of years. I fear that a mere few will pass far too quickly for my liking."

Before you can respond, disgruntled noises from the crib bring the both of your gazes to the now awake infant. She appears displeased at first glance, more than likely upset at being woken up by you and your husband's conversation. It's not until her eyes fully open that she sees the two of you and the biggest toothless grin stretches across her tiny lips. A squeak of sorts escapes her throat, chubby fingers curling up as through she's asking to be lifted from the confines of her bed.

Leaning over, you lift her into your embrace and tuck her underneath your chin, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of her head while murmuring a quiet good morning.

The way she rests her head on your chest has her facing Zhongli, babbling nonsensicals to her father who gazes at her with an infinite amount of love and adoration.

He reaches over and places a kiss on her head where you had only moments prior, following it up with a second to your cheek, murmuring out a, "thank you."

"For what?" You ask, puzzled at the sudden gratitude.

"It is only with you that I have ever felt so...human, with you that I am able to understand the love a man holds for his beloved, a father holds for his children. I once believed that the love I hold for Liyue could compare, but I have quickly learned my mistake- dear, are you crying?"

Shaking your head slowly as to not disturb the baby, you will the tears that accumulated in your lower lash line away and let out a quiet laugh, "No, no, it's okay. I'm okay. Let's go spend the morning in bed with this little one, hm?"

Zhongli grins once more as he follows you back through the narrow hallway, saying, "I would love nothing more."

[alpydk]

Red on You (Part 3) - "Little Piece of Flesh"

RuganxGale - Despite the interruptions, I got the chapter done! I'm just fucking loving this. (Going to warn: not really edited because of time. Will do that tomorrow but want it off my mind.)

Ao3 Link

Gale had spent time cleaning the tower before he slowly drifted towards Blackstaff Academy. The cool evening breeze was a welcome distraction from the heated anger that seemed to cling to his chest. Glasses had been washed and put back in their respective places, a knowledge that only one would be needed on future nights rather than the two during the previous year. The bedsheets had been changed from the deep blue cotton that smelt of ale, the scent too much of a reminder of long nights of embrace and what-ifs.

The library of Blackstaff would be a welcome distraction from his thoughts, he confirmed to himself as he passed the empty shop faces. Waterdeep was quiet for once, unusually quiet, he noted as his footsteps rung through over the cobbles. The City of Splendours usually had some hustle and bustle even during the later hours, the taverns spilling out onto the streets, the odd couple laughing as they returned home from an opportunity at courtship, but tonight there was little of it. There was only an eery silence hanging over the cold stones of the Street of Silks.

Alone again, after a year of joy. What fools these mortals be… The words had come to him as naturally as they did in the past. A fool to be in love again and again. A fool to think he could be loved. The courtyard of the academy lay vacant as he approached, its walls high and imprisoning. Gale remembered the events of a year ago, as he’d watched Rugan be dragged away by the dark-haired Zhentarim. Why was it so much easier to fight for love a year ago than it was now?

The dancing lights shone above as he walked the empty corridors to the library, passing by a classroom that held too many powerful memories for him to want to stop. He’d find a copy of A Dove at Dawn, sequester himself away to an alcove and while away the hours until morning, possibly conjuring a cushion or two for comfort if the mood took him.

“Gale, a bit late to be perusing the literature, is it not?”

He smiled to himself, the soft voice of the half drow pleasant to his senses. “Lissa, my dear. There is no period of time, too early, nor too late when it comes to the matters of literature.”

Lissa stepped forward, the dancing lights reflecting on the white of her hair, her lilac eyes twinkling. “Spoken like a true wizard. So, I guess the real question I ask is, is it only the books you are here to see?”

“Aside from the wonders of fantasy and imagination, you mean? Maybe I could be persuaded to enjoy some kaeth with an old colleague.”

She smiled, softly linking her arm with his, her hand delicately clutching to his forearm. “Kaeth it is.”

---

“Stop being a pillock and keep your head down, will you?”

“Watch the hair!”

Rugan and Astarion hid behind a stack of crates, a small group of undead shambling past their location. They had run north under darkness along the streets, losing both Friol and Darnys in the chaos, their plan of going back to the tower ruined, as the horde had blocked the paths to the west.

Holding a palm across his mouth, Rugan held his breath as best he could, the sounds of his panting muffled from the creatures which hunted them. Sobering up had happened surprisingly fast with the flood of adrenaline to his system, but he wished he had a bottle at his side now to drown out the nerves. Dying in this way had never been part of his plan. Gnolls in caves, Guild or Zhent interference, hells, even by his own hand; those had been the expected methods. Dying to zombies in an alleyway with a vampire a few days before a proposal to a wizard was just insane in his mind.

As the world grew quiet around him, he peered over the wood behind him. “I think they’re gone.” His breath was heavy, a year of the simple life taking its toll on his physique. “Come on, if we can get back on to Warrior’s Way, maybe we can get close to the fort and slip through to the tower before dawn.”

Astarion dusted off his trousers, frustrated at the situation he’d suddenly found himself in. “And head back through those things? Are you mad?” He looked up and down the alley, trying to work out exactly where he was, the brown and red stone of each building giving him no real landmarks to navigate from.

“Clam it. Those things are out there, and I don’t know about you, mate, but I’d rather have a wizard with a fireball or two than follow after Friol and her lackey.”

 “And what if we’re caught? I may be undead, but at least I’m not undead.”

“Look, you coming or not?”

A not-too-distant scream could be heard, signalling to them it was time to move again. Rugan peered out, looking south down the darkened street. Shadows danced from the entrance of a nearby store, the clang of a lute ringing out before being met with the groans of death. Even if they moved quick enough, they’d run straight into the lifeless beings that now roamed most of the Dock Ward. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself, realising his options were limited. “West… Maybe we can get down by the coastline.”

“And do what? Take a swim?”

“Astarion, you’re being a prick right now.”

“Well, excuse me for seeing flaws in your plans.”

The groans grew closer towards the alleyway, the smell of rot and decay spreading quickly through the streets. Rugan lowered his head, the knowledge of no easy way home becoming clearer to him. Sighing, he spoke, “North it is then…”

---

Andora placed the cool compress over the brow of the high priest. For some time, they had been trapped in the small scriptorium; the door barricaded with a bookshelf pushed diagonally across the exit. Moonlight shone through the one available window some feet off the ground, and she tried to imagine a path up to it should the door be broken down. Use the desk, sandals into the stone cracks, pray the window can be opened…pray…

A hacking cough erupted from her superior, one that had grown over the time they’d been trapped. He had no sign of injury upon his body and none of the undead outside the door had got close, yet still he had fallen ill.

“Let me get you some water, father.” She stood from the cold floor and found the jug upon the desk, her eyes glancing over at him as she poured into a small silver cup at its side.

“I fear water will not fix my ailment, my dear,” he sputtered, his hand grasping at the symbol of Ilmater that hung around his neck. “Come, pray with me.”

She approached cautiously. She could not help but notice the sweat that beaded on his skin, the pale complexion under the dim light of the room. An odd smell permeated her senses, a reminder of the gnome she had tried to save: rot and corruption. She knelt by the side of the priest, taking his cool, clammy hand in her own, closing her eyes, prepared for his holy devotion.

“Dearest Ilmater,” he whispered, a faint thud from the door interrupting him. “Your burdens are my own and for that I thank you. For with those burdens, I have found the strength to aid in those less worthy.” With his words, he glanced at Andora, who sat quietly, eyes still closed. “It is now that I beg of your help to save me from the horrors that have been beset upon me. I, who have been so faithful and pure of heart and-” Coughing interrupted his prayer, fluid from his lungs forcefully expelled onto the floor in front of him.

Andora was quick to pull her hand away, rising to her feet with open fear in her large, dark eyes. As she looked at him, she could see the veins in his neck bulging, a purple black trail risen over the pallor, pathways of the disease’s command throughout his body. She wanted to save him, wanted to help him as she had tried to the gnome, but she knew what was happening and she knew how it was going to end. Backing up towards the desk, she wordlessly went over the plan again. Use the desk, sandals into the stone cracks, pray the window can be opened…pray…

The high priest’s body jolted and twitched before her very eyes, a spattering of blood from his lips dripping onto the floor beneath him. She backed up further; the desk hitting behind her legs, but she could not turn and take her eyes from the sight. The hissing of his lungs as his last breaths whistled through cracked lips filled the air, merging with the dull thuds of the door. Her own breath stuck in her throat; her legs frozen to the ground as his own snapped around him, trying to find a footing on the floor as if he were a newborn to the world. His head jerked up, eyes bloodshot and pinned on her presence. Again, she was the prey to the wolf that hunted her, but it was as she realised this that she found the strength to move, turning on her heels and climbing onto the desk. …pray the window can be opened…pray…

---

“And then I told him: Then let us hope I never wake.”

Lissa had sat for some time in the small alcove of the library, listening to Gale unload about the relationship issues he had been struggling with. Kaeth had been passed between them, topics of poetry and the arcane discussed at length, and often they had found each other’s gaze. Neither could deny the chemistry between them, the static that seemed to sit in the air as their fingers met.

She could see the glow of the Weave in her eyes, reflecting her own, hear the magic he commanded simply in the way he spoke. “Sounds like quite the exciting relationship,” she commented, sipping from her mug.

Gale chuckled. “An understatement, my dear. Rugan and I are as if one were to add water to an oil fire. We act and react upon one another. What some may see as exciting, others may see as reckless and dangerous.”

“And which do you see it as?”

He sighed, the light conversation now having become deeper than he had wished. He had only known Lissa for a short while; her joining the academy as a professor, only a recent addition in the last few months. Getting to know her had been easy, though. She was open, positive, and quite the beauty, even he had to admit. Maybe in another life or time, he would have fallen for her. He considered his answer for a while, watching as she drew small circles into the table with her fingertip. “If you had asked me a week ago, I would have responded that it was exciting.”

“But I ask you now.”

“Hm. That you do.”

The flickering of unexpected torchlight from the window was a thankful distraction from the weight of his thoughts, the orange glow quickly growing in the courtyard as more torches lit up the area. With the flames came the sound of voices, commanding bellows from a small group of paladins. “Into the tower! Quickly!” Silver armour and swords reflected the light, glowing beacons of justice marching upon the academy without remorse.

Gale and Lissa rose to their feet, confusion shared between them at the potential attack that was under way. Without hesitation, kaeth abandoned, they ran from the library, neither knowing what they would come to find with the might of Tyr now on their doorstep.

---  

Darnys panted for breath under the lamplight of the store. Under different circumstances, she considered robbing Sorynth’s, but tonight would not be that night as the sounds of spreading fear echoed to the south. “We could have used them, Friol.”

“They’ve had their use. They were a distraction to help us escape.” Friol rubbed at her knee, the dull ache now a pounding reminder of how she’d wished to kill Rugan herself. She caught her breath, leaning on the cool glass of the shopwindow. “Fucking wizards.”

“What do they have to do with anything?”

“It was their magic item that caused this. If Tib’s hadn’t grabbed it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

All Darnys wanted to do was run, to keep running and get rid of the memories of what had happened at the base out of her head. She watched as those she had once called friends had clung to their stomachs, as their flesh had torn, and they had turned on one another. Mads had tried to get out the protection ward as they rushed him, a single bite to his eye enough to have him on the floor spasming and screaming before he soon clawed his way up the staircase towards her. She was a coward, though, not like him. She had run, and she had kept running, just like her so-called leader. “So, what are you suggesting we do?” Following orders was the one thing keeping her sane right now as her hand clutched to the hilt of her sword at her waist. Can’t think if you’re following orders.

“Same thing you were tasked with doing a day ago. Find me Tibs and find that artefact.”

---

The undead had stumbled from the temple to the Halls of Justice, confusion breaking out as paladins and clerics turned on one another. Though their spells could break through the walking corpses, what was one spell when a single bite was enough to spread the corruption so quickly? Swords met armour, war cries met screams and soon they were changed, mutated soldiers of an army that could only ever increase.

A small party had banded together and escaped the chaos of the temples, their desperation taking them to the academy to seek further aid. Tibs watched, the flesh of his chest now nothing but bone under the amulet, a dark ooze running from an eye socket that held nothing. He no longer thought, no longer felt. He was simply commanded by the magic around his neck, magic that had only one calling. Death.

[bee6r]

For Ever and Ever (pt. 1)

Masterlist ~ Part 2

{JJ Maybank x Female reader}

Summery: After a relaxing day on the beach, you decide to hang out with Kiara at her parents’ restaurant. Soon, the two of you are joined by three of the Pouges, one of whom may just be your secret crush... 

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking and smoking, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, making out. !Female reader x JJ Maybank! 

A/N: I just started watching the Outer Banks, so I apologize if the characterization for JJ is a bit off. (early season one ig).  

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Words: 1.6k

Wind rustled through your hair as you walked up the boardwalk, the color of the sun setting into your skin and hair, and the sand dunes slowly changing, as they always did. You smile backwards as the sun began its descent towards the water, pausing in the middle of the nearly deserted boardwalk for a moment to watch it. Finally turning back towards the parking lot, you realize how hungry you are, and the fact that you hadn’t eaten since noon. Pulling your (slightly) see-through sundress more securely over your bathing suit, you walk more hastily down the steps and across the gravel parking lot to your car.  

It’s an old thing, given to you by your father. “Take care of what's left of it,” he had said as he handed you the keys. You remember having complained about the dent in the back bumper, the chipping red paint on the sides where the door had been slammed, one too many times, and the rusting around the wheels, but it still was better than nothing. Now, at least, you could go places, have fun, and enjoy the freedom you had always begged your parents for.  

You get in and turn on the engine, having to try it a few times before it finally gives in. The truck starts loudly, but quiets after a moment, soon slowing to a purr to blend in with the quiet wind that is coming in through the open windows. Backing out of the parking lot and beginning to drive down a log stretch of road, bordered by palm trees on either side, you wonder whether your father will be in the mood to make you something. You had very little left in the pantry, and he barely had the energy to shop anymore; and you barely had the time.  

Today had, of course, been the exception, but you had realized years ago, that if you didn’t allow yourself to relax once in a while, the cup would spill over, like bubbles in a bottle of champagne. And so, once a month, you gave yourself a day. A day to do nothing, if that’s what you wanted; a day that wouldn’t count the next morning when you got out of bed. It would be as if it had never happened, and you could continue your work as usual.  

The first few times you had done this, you had found it hard to completely rid your mind of tasks and responsibilities, but as the years passed, and you had more of these days, it was easier to completely clear your mind of any and all thoughts. And so now, as you continue to drive down the long road towards home, you let yourself enjoy the last moments of the day.  

When you are about half-way home, you stop the car, pulling over onto the side of the road to think. At the moment, the last thing you wanted to do was cook, and you were almost positive that your father either wouldn’t be awake, or wouldn’t be sober, when you opened the door, so you slowly assessed your options. You could go home, and grab a granola bar out of the cabinet to hold you over until breakfast the next morning, you could see what stores were still open and spend the ten dollars you kept in the back of your phone case on a pre-made salad, or- 

You look up from the floor of your car, where you had been staring, blankly. Or, you could go see Kiara, and hope that she hadn’t thrown away the leftover food from that day yet. Turning back onto the road and making a three-point turn to head back a couple hundred feet to Kiara’s turn off, you can’t stop hoping that Kiara’s dad had turned on the frier that day.  

You arrive at The Wreck only five minutes later and are very happy to see that even though the closed sign is up on the door, that the lights are still on throughout the restaurant. Turning off the engine and hopping out of your truck, you walk to the door and knock quietly, hoping not to disturb anyone too much. Kiara’s dad opens it, smiling slightly. He and her mother had always been fond of you, and you of them, especially since you had known each other since you were toddling around the beach in diapers.  

“Good evening Mr. Carrera,” you greet him, smiling.  

“Evening Y/N,” he says, reciprocating your smile, “what can I do for you?” Your expression turns slightly shyer as you look up at him again.  

“Food?” You ask. He sighs, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.  

“You’re in luck today, we have lots of fries.” You mentally high-five yourself for turning around when you did, and follow him through the restaurant, around tables and to the back, where you see Kiara reorganizing something in the freezer.  

“Who was at the door dad?” She asks, not turning to look.  

“Your friend, who apparently is about to die from starvation.” She turns questioningly, but a smile appears on her face when she sees you.  

“You always seem to know when we have extras, don’t you?” she asks mockingly. “Seriously, it’s like a superpower or something.” Closing the freezer, she walks over to the fryers, and you follow her. Grabbing onto the handle and pulling a medium-sized bowl out from under the counter, she dumps the fries from both fryers into the bowl. “We’ve got plenty,” she says, then turning to her dad, she asks, “can I-” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m sure I can finish up around here.” She hugs him and grabs your arm, leading you out the front door, with the bowl of fries under one arm.  

She brings you out to the dock and the two of you sit down, swinging your legs over the side.  

“So-,” she starts, grabbing a couple fries from the bowl and leaning back on her hand, “anything else bring you here, besides fries of course,” she side-eyes you, a smirk on her face.  

“No?” you question, also taking some from the bowl, “what else would I be here for?”  

“Oh, you know. Maybe some handsome blonde, or...” she pauses, turning to you.  

“JJ?” 

“Yes JJ.” 

“Why would I be here for him?” you ask, but you can feel a soft blush creeping through your cheeks. The truth was, that even though you hadn’t specifically come here to see him, part of you always hopes that he will be here when you arrive. There had been times that this wish had even come true, but even when it had, you had rarely ever been brave enough to speak more than a couple sentences to him. You wouldn’t call yourself shy, necessarily, but around him, you were definitely more nervous than you normally were.  

Instead of continuing to question you about it, especially after the blush had given you away, Kiara changed the subject. The two of you talked about turtles, surfing, and anything else that came to mind for the next twenty minutes or so, until you could hear the faint sound of a speedboat making its way through the water. As it came nearer, a smile spread across both of your faces, and you waved it closer in unison.  

When the boat had parked, John B, Pope, and JJ, hoped off, John B and Pope each holding a bear, and JJ with his vape. Blowing out a puff of smoke, he looks down at you and Kiara, his eyes lingering on your face a few seconds longer. John B breaks the silence after a minute, glancing at you both.  

“We came for food.”  

“You and her both,” Kiara says, snickering, then, pushing the bowl backwards towards them, and turning around, her back to the water, she adds, “help yourself.” All three boys are sitting on the ground within a matter of seconds, and it doesn't take long for the large number of fries to be completely demolished. Licking his lips and fingers, Pope looks up at you.  

“So, how’s your day off treating you?” You look up at him.  

“Really nice so far,” you respond, smiling. You see JJ looking at you out of the corner of your eyes, but he looks away when he sees you notice him. “I’ve just been sitting on the beach all day.” 

“Ahh, that’s the life,” Pope says, smiling back.  

Conversation flows throughout the group for a while, before Kiara somehow manages to drag John B and Pope away to, as she had said, “look at something in the kitchen,” which leaves you and JJ alone by the water. Your legs are hanging off the edge, as they had been earlier, and you watch as the last slivers of the sun set below the horizon.  

“Nice night,” JJ remarks, his voice quiet over the steady flow of the wind.  

“Yeah,” you respond, not really knowing what else to say. It's quiet for another few minutes, before JJ gets up. You are about to ask him where he’s going when he holds out his hand for you to join him. You accept it, letting him pull you off the ground.  

“Wanna go on the water?” You turn to look at the boat. Stress begins to make its way through your body, as you haven’t been on a boat in some time, but you push it away, remembering that today is a day to let loose and have fun.  

“Sure,” you agree, and after he gracefully steps onto the boat, holds out his hand again to assist you on.  

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Full book available here

[The novella is short, but the chapters themselves are too long to post all at once, so I'm breaking them in half for convenience]

Chapter I (part 1/2)

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.

“What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table—Samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. “How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense”, he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn’t get into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before.

“Oh, God”, he thought, “what a strenuous career it is that I’ve chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there’s the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. It can all go to Hell!” He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn’t know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder.

He slid back into his former position. “Getting up early all the time”, he thought, “it makes you stupid. You’ve got to get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I’d get kicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. If I didn’t have my parents to think about I’d have given in my notice a long time ago, I’d have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He’d fall right off his desk! And it’s a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go right up close because the boss is hard of hearing. Well, there’s still some hope; once I’ve got the money together to pay off my parents’ debt to him—another five or six years I suppose—that’s definitely what I’ll do. That’s when I’ll make the big change. First of all though, I’ve got to get up, my train leaves at five.”

And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of drawers. “God in Heaven!” he thought. It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? He could see from the bed that it had been set for four o’clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the more deeply because of that. What should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his boss’s anger as the office assistant would have been there to see the five o’clock train go, he would have put in his report about Gregor’s not being there a long time ago. The office assistant was the boss’s man, spineless, and with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in five years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill. His boss would certainly come round with the doctor from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of having a lazy son, and accept the doctor’s recommendation not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill but that many were workshy. And what’s more, would he have been entirely wrong in this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well and even felt much hungrier than usual.

He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to decide to get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter to seven. There was a cautious knock at the door near his head. “Gregor”, somebody called—it was his mother—“it’s quarter to seven. Didn’t you want to go somewhere?” That gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice he had had before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out at first but then there was a sort of echo which made them unclear, leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not. Gregor had wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in the circumstances contented himself with saying: “Yes, mother, yes, thank-you, I’m getting up now.” The change in Gregor’s voice probably could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother was satisfied with this explanation and shuffled away. But this short conversation made the other members of the family aware that Gregor, against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. “Gregor, Gregor”, he called, “what’s wrong?” And after a short while he called again with a warning deepness in his voice: “Gregor! Gregor!” At the other side door his sister came plaintively: “Gregor? Aren’t you well? Do you need anything?” Gregor answered to both sides: “I’m ready, now”, making an effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between each, individual word. His father went back to his breakfast, but his sister whispered: “Gregor, open the door, I beg of you.” Gregor, however, had no thought of opening the door, and instead congratulated himself for his cautious habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors at night even when he was at home.

The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace without being disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to have his breakfast. Only then would he consider what to do next, as he was well aware that he would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in bed. He remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed, perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turned out to be pure imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly resolve themselves today. He did not have the slightest doubt that the change in his voice was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold, which was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.

It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had to blow himself up a little and they fell off by themselves. But it became difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. He would have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead of them he only had all those little legs continuously moving in different directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If he wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one that would stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to do what he wanted with that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and would move about painfully. “This is something that can’t be done in bed”, Gregor said to himself, “so don’t keep trying to do it”.

The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of his body out of the bed, but he had never seen this lower part, and could not imagine what it looked like; it turned out to be too hard to move; it went so slowly; and finally, almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly shoved himself forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose the wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and learned from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might well, at present, be the most sensitive.

So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first, carefully turning his head to the side. This he managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body eventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had at last got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his head were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself forward the same way. And he could not knock himself out now at any price; better to stay in bed than lose consciousness.

It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier, but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos. He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the same time, though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm consideration was much better than rushing to desperate conclusions. At times like this he would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as he could, but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was enveloped in morning fog and the view had little confidence or cheer to offer him. “Seven o’clock, already”, he said to himself when the clock struck again, “seven o’clock, and there’s still a fog like this.” And he lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back to their real and natural state.

But then he said to himself: “Before it strikes quarter past seven I’ll definitely have to have got properly out of bed. And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask what’s happened to me as well, as they open up at work before seven o’clock.” And so he set himself to the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed in this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid injuring it. His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto the carpet. His main concern was for the loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through all the doors would probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was something that had to be risked.

When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed—the new method was more of a game than an effort, all he had to do was rock back and forth—it occurred to him how simple everything would be if somebody came to help him. Two strong people—he had his father and the maid in mind—would have been more than enough; they would only have to push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as he swang over onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would find a use. Should he really call for help though, even apart from the fact that all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he was in, he could not suppress a smile at this thought.

After a while he had already moved so far across that it would have been hard for him to keep his balance if he rocked too hard. The time was now ten past seven and he would have to make a final decision very soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. “That’ll be someone from work”, he said to himself, and froze very still, although his little legs only became all the more lively as they danced around. For a moment everything remained quiet. “They’re not opening the door”, Gregor said to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course, the maid’s firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it. Gregor only needed to hear the visitor’s first words of greeting and he knew who it was—the chief clerk himself. Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned to work for a company where they immediately became highly suspicious at the slightest shortcoming? Were all employees, every one of them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and devoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he couldn’t get out of bed if he didn’t spend at least a couple of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really not enough to let one of the trainees make enquiries—assuming enquiries were even necessary—did the chief clerk have to come himself, and did they have to show the whole, innocent family that this was so suspicious that only the chief clerk could be trusted to have the wisdom to investigate it? And more because these thoughts had made him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself with all his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump, but it wasn’t really a loud noise. His fall was softened a little by the carpet, and Gregor’s back was also more elastic than he had thought, which made the sound muffled and not too noticeable. He had not held his head carefully enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in pain, he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.

“Something’s fallen down in there”, said the chief clerk in the room on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether something of the sort that had happened to him today could ever happen to the chief clerk too; you had to concede that it was possible. But as if in gruff reply to this question, the chief clerk’s firm footsteps in his highly polished boots could now be heard in the adjoining room. From the room on his right, Gregor’s sister whispered to him to let him know: “Gregor, the chief clerk is here.” “Yes, I know”, said Gregor to himself; but without daring to raise his voice loud enough for his sister to hear him.

“Gregor”, said his father now from the room to his left, “the chief clerk has come round and wants to know why you didn’t leave on the early train. We don’t know what to say to him. And anyway, he wants to speak to you personally. So please open up this door. I’m sure he’ll be good enough to forgive the untidiness of your room.” Then the chief clerk called “Good morning, Mr. Samsa”. “He isn’t well”, said his mother to the chief clerk, while his father continued to speak through the door. “He isn’t well, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have missed a train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. It nearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in the evenings; he’s been in town for a week now but stayed home every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and just reads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of relaxation is working with his fretsaw. He’s made a little frame, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings, you’ll be amazed how nice it is; it’s hanging up in his room; you’ll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here; we wouldn’t have been able to get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he’s so stubborn; and I’m sure he isn’t well, he said this morning that he is, but he isn’t.” “I’ll be there in a moment”, said Gregor slowly and thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss any word of the conversation. “Well I can’t think of any other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa”, said the chief clerk, “I hope it’s nothing serious. But on the other hand, I must say that if we people in commerce ever become slightly unwell then, fortunately or unfortunately as you like, we simply have to overcome it because of business considerations.” “Can the chief clerk come in to see you now then?”, asked his father impatiently, knocking at the door again. “No”, said Gregor. In the room on his right there followed a painful silence; in the room on his left his sister began to cry.

So why did his sister not go and join the others? She had probably only just got up and had not even begun to get dressed. And why was she crying? Was it because he had not got up, and had not let the chief clerk in, because he was in danger of losing his job and if that happened his boss would once more pursue their parents with the same demands as before? There was no need to worry about things like that yet. Gregor was still there and had not the slightest intention of abandoning his family. For the time being he just lay there on the carpet, and no-one who knew the condition he was in would seriously have expected him to let the chief clerk in. It was only a minor discourtesy, and a suitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it was not something for which Gregor could be sacked on the spot. And it seemed to Gregor much more sensible to leave him now in peace instead of disturbing him with talking at him and crying. But the others didn’t know what was happening, they were worried, that would excuse their behaviour.

[aashiquidreams]

Since there’s a full moon in Aquarius tonight, I’ve been reflecting on the past six months. Six months ago, on February 9, there was a new moon in Aquarius, marking the beginning of a significant cycle for me. During this period, I’ve experienced profound emotional and physical challenges that made me feel like an entire chapter of my life was closing. But upon deeper reflection, I realize that this wasn’t just about the past six months—different cycles have been closing for a while now. The past one and a half years have felt like one big “Tower moment,” a period of upheaval and transformation, akin to the Tower card in the Rider-Waite tarot deck.

My health issues began in early 2023, forcing me out of my comfort zone and into making serious lifestyle changes. By spring, these health issues had cost me my job, and with that, my dream of making a career in a field I had just entered was lost. Last year also brought the revelation of two major secrets, both shocking and life-altering, leading to the abrupt end of two friendships—one in the spring and the other in the summer. These experiences were painful but necessary, teaching me invaluable lessons about myself and the kinds of people I attract into my life.

In the fall of last year, a close friend and I discovered something together that left us both in shock. Even now, I’m amazed at how certain events and meetings in life play out. Unfortunately, our friendship slowly faded after that, but I’m grateful for the experiences we shared. They helped me let go of what no longer served me and furthered my healing journey. Around the same time, I had a falling out with my brother, and we stopped talking until spring.

By November, I had to move on to another chapter of my health journey and part ways with someone who had helped me realize the importance of my lifestyle change. I had mixed feelings about moving on—my health was improving, but I felt like I had to step out of my comfort zone once again. Yet, I had built enough confidence to take this step, and the encouragement I received from him was immensely helpful. Looking back, I can see that this was meant to happen. It was also around this time that I began learning about trauma and how it manifests in the body. This step was crucial in bringing together my physical and emotional healing journeys and in meeting the people who would later play a significant role in my healing process.

The year took a turn for the worse in October/November 2023. My sweet cat, Tijgertje, who had been with me for 15 years, started showing symptoms of illness, and another stressful period began for both of us. Despite all efforts, in February of this year, I had to make the heart-wrenching decision to end his suffering. His passing devastated me, and I was overwhelmed with grief.

To make matters worse, a day after his passing, I experienced a sharp pain in my abdomen and could hardly move. The pain was unlike anything I had felt before, and I had to call the doctor. Before I knew it, I was in an ambulance, on my way to the hospital. After several painful examinations, I was diagnosed with stomach ulcers. In hindsight, I had noticed changes in my body but didn’t pay much attention to them. That night, when I returned home, I was overwhelmed by emptiness and loneliness.

I remember taking a shower, crying loudly, and begging God to take my life or give me the courage to end it myself. At that moment, nothing made sense anymore. My life felt completely turned upside down, and I had reached my limit, unable to see any way out. I cried and pleaded with God until I couldn’t cry anymore.

That same weekend, while I was still processing Tijgertje’s passing and my hospital visit, I faced disappointment from two friends I thought were close. One friend’s reaction to my loss wasn’t entirely surprising, as I had already sensed our friendship was nearing its end. But the other friend’s behavior was completely unexpected and out of character. When I found out they were having a party that weekend, which I was invited to but couldn’t attend, I felt abandoned. A short visit or even a phone call would have sufficed, but their lack of empathy made me reevaluate our relationships.

The weeks that followed are somewhat blurry, likely due to exhaustion. However, my prayers changed. Instead of begging for an end, I asked God to take me by the hand, give me strength, and show me what I needed to learn. I thanked Him for what He had shown me so far. I’m not religious, but I believe in God, and I trust that He always takes care of me and reveals what I need to know at the right time—maybe not always in the ways I want or expect, but He knows best.

By the end of February, I had an important conversation with one of my coaches from CrossFit. This conversation provided me with a sense of direction for my healing journey. Although I didn’t know this person very well, his presence felt comforting and safe. He understood my health issues, my grief, and that I felt lost and stuck in life. He suggested breathwork to see what might surface. He and his colleague literally taught me how to breathe correctly and helped me look inside myself to gain insights that I could work with. I did two breathwork sessions with them, and what emerged were deeply buried traumas. The sessions were intense, bringing up old wounds that I had never properly dealt with, either because I was in survival mode or simply out of denial.

Meanwhile, my mental health was deteriorating, so I sought help. Since May, I’ve been back on antidepressants and started attending CrossFit classes more regularly—this combination is what keeps me going. I also have an upcoming appointment with my old therapist to reassess my needs. Interestingly, this appointment coincides with my sweet cat Suzy’s death anniversary. It was her death that triggered my depression back in 2019. I remember the first few sessions were mostly about her passing and what both my cats symbolized in my life. It feels like everything is coming full circle.

Another important cycle I closed this year is that I quit smoking weed on January 8. It’s one of the best decisions I’ve made, and I’m proud of this achievement. I never doubted that I could quit, but it was a habit that had no place in my current lifestyle.

Now, with everything that has happened, the astrological context is quite interesting. As I wrote before, the lunar eclipse in Libra on March 24 and the solar eclipse in Aries on April 8, alongside the transformative influence of Pluto in Aquarius from January 20 to September 1, have all played a role in shaping my experiences. As a Libra rising with my 7th house in Aries and Chiron in Taurus, these celestial events heightened my awareness of personal boundaries and the importance of self-assertion. With Pluto in Libra in my 12th house, I’ve delved deep into introspection, confronting hidden truths and emerging with a newfound sense of empowerment.

Additionally, the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction in my 8th house on April 20-21 stirred a desire for radical change and liberation from outdated patterns, symbolizing a journey of death and rebirth, where old ways dissolve to make room for transformation and renewal.

Currently, with six planets and Chiron in retrograde, the astrological climate is especially reflective. These retrogrades are amplifying the introspective and transformative themes I’ve been experiencing, aligning with the shifts and revelations in my life. This period of review and reassessment is adding to the depth of my personal journey, making this time particularly rich for growth and understanding.

What’s even more astonishing is the realization that the Tower card in tarot corresponds with Mars in astrology. I have Mars in Gemini in the 9th house, and I just finished my profection year in the 9th house on my birthday, August 3. This connection has blown my mind because since February, I’ve had clear visions of the Tower card, even though I haven’t touched my tarot cards for over a year. The Tower card represents sudden upheaval and the breaking down of old structures—much like what I’ve been experiencing. With Mars in my 9th house, this upheaval has been tied to areas of higher learning, beliefs, and long journeys, both literal and metaphorical. My recent 9th house profection year forced me to confront and re-evaluate my beliefs, perspectives, and life direction, aligning perfectly with the transformative energy of the Tower.

Figuratively speaking, I feel like I fell from the burning tower, much like in that tarot card. As I was falling, I couldn’t tell where I would land, and sometimes I’m still unsure. Once I hit the ground, I was unable to move. But eventually, I began to get up—slowly, painfully. I learned that sometimes, in order to survive, we must stand still, process what has happened, and take time to recover from such a fall in life. I also learned that it’s okay to be lost at times and to stand still, to look inside and around for guidance. Sometimes I still don’t know where I’m going, but I’ve come to accept that this is all part of the journey, and I trust that I will be okay.

As I navigate this transformative period, I’m learning to embrace uncertainty and trust in the process. I’ve gained a much deeper sense of self-love and appreciation for who I am becoming. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I’m beginning to truly like the person I’m evolving into. While I don’t have all the answers, I’m finding strength in the journey itself and in the lessons it brings. With each step, I’m gradually piecing together a new sense of direction and purpose. The path ahead may still be unclear, but I trust that, as I continue to grow and heal, I will find my way. Here’s to embracing the unknown and moving forward with hope and faith. Happy full moon!

[mysticalnightenthusiast]

S.N.A.F.U CH73 ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’

************************************************************************

 As soon as Daniel’s commitments in Abu Dhabi were met he and Eadaoin jumped on a plane to the United States to spend some time alone together.  They mainly hung around Daniel’s palatial Beverly Hills home but once made a trip up the coast to an isolated little woodland cabin that belonged to Daniel’s U.S based manager where they roasted marshmallows over a campfire and indulged in some salacious outdoor entertainment.  It was now the night before their return to London and Eadaoin was doing their laundry before packing.

“Daniel Joseph Ricciardo FUCK YOU!” she called.

The curly haired driver poked his head in the laundry door.

“Now?” he said with a grin “we literally only finished doing it half an hour ago and have been fucking like rabbits all week.  I can’t go again you’ll wreck me!” 

Eadaoin rolled her eyes.

“Literally all my underwear is covered in cum!” she exclaimed in amused exasperation “you’ve really got to watch where you finish.”

Daniel threw his head back and roared with laughter.

“You don’t usually complain where I finish,” he said striding into the laundry and pulling her close “in fact half an hour ago you begged me to-”

“Yeah yeah yeah that was in the heat of the moment,” Eadaoin muttered “this last week has been great babe, I wish we could get away alone more often, I get why you like L.A so much if you have your own little corner of the city its quite a nice place to be.”

“It is isn’t it?” Daniel replied with a happy sigh resting his chin on her head “come the new year I’ll have to start spending my down time in Monaco to meet the conditions of my residency certificate but when we have the time and can both get away at the same time we should come here.”

“I’m down for that,” Eadaoin replied “but first Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year I’ve got a few nice presents for you that I can’t wait for you to open.”

Daniel grinned.

“A private present?” he asked cheekily.

“That would be telling,” Eadaoin said with a grin “now go make yourself useful, we have loads of work to do before our flight in the morning.”

“Yes boss!”

************************************************************************

“Cahir’s still good to pick us up at Heathrow?” Daniel asked early the following morning as they arrived at LAX

“Yeah all good, he said he’s got a surprise for me which makes me really suss,” Eadaoin said dryly “whenever Cally says he has a ‘surprise’ its always something weird.”

“Really?”

“Well no not really but my big brother has always been a practical joker and I can never trust him when it comes to pulling tricks,” Eadaoin replied as they made their way toward the Emirates check in desks “he put sandwich wrap across the toilet at home once.  I coulda killed him that day.”

Daniel laughed heartily.

“I can imagine what happened,” he said with a snigger “what did you do to get him back?”

Eadaoin grinned.

“Put Carolina Reaper sauce in his fleshlight.” She replied.

“No way!” Daniel exclaimed as the redhead collapsed in a fit of giggles “really?”

Eadaoin nodded.

“And the best thing was he couldn’t say anything to Mum and Dad because they didn’t know he had a fleshlight and didn’t want them to know he had been jerking off.”

“Oh that’s evil!” Daniel exclaimed in amusement “you’re an evil genius.”

“I know and I got Cally to admit so,” Eadaoin replied with a grin.

“When did that happen?” Daniel asked.

“Oh years ago, in his last year of vet school and my second year of law school,” Eadaoin replied “after that he graduated and he and Dad went on a skiing trip to Canada then he moved out and got his first job so I didn’t get the opportunity to do anything more. We’ve moved past serious pranking now.”

“So if I call him fleshlight when he picks us up at Heathrow he’ll know what I’m referring to.

“Oh yeah most definitely.”

************************************************************************

Just over twelve hours later after a delayed arrival because of turbulence Daniel and Eadaoin’s plane touched down in London.  They collected their carry on and exited the plane making their way into the arrivals lounge, they processed through passport control and a COVID station then collected their luggage and went through customs before pushing their way through the crowd and into the publicly accessed arrivals lounge. Eadaoin immediately spotted Cahir bundled up head to toe in DR3 merchandise a huge grin upon his face.

“You’re sticking out like dogs bollocks,” Eadaoin informed her brother embracing him.

“Merry Christmas to you to Nugget,” Cahir said dryly returning her hug “Honey Badger!”

“Hey man thanks for the pickup,” Daniel said gratefully shaking Cahir’s hand “nice threads.”

Cahir grinned

“Gotta promote the in law’s merch,” he said with a snort “it’s comfy stuff.”

“In-law’s?” Eadaoin exclaimed rolling her eyes “oh go blow yourself Cally.””

Cahir laughed heartily.

“I knew that would get a rise out of you,” he said.

“Alright what’s this surprise you’ve been teasing me about for the last week?”

Cahir’s grin widened.

“I can’t tell you,” he said “it’s something I have to show you.”

“Cally it’s seven PM and I just got off a ten and a half hour flight I don’t have the energy to put up with your horse shit,” Eadaoin groaned as Cahir led her and Daniel through the bustling Heathrow crowd

“Trust me Eadie you’re going to love this surprise,” Cahir responded cheerfully “c’mon it’s near the Café Nero outlet.”

“I better be getting a bloody latte out of this,” Eadaoin grumbled “you’re an infuriating child Cahir Oisin O’Siodachain!”

“Yeah yeah yeah just shut up and follow me,” Cahir responded a huge grin upon his face.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Eadaoin asked Daniel in exasperation.

“Promise I don’t,” Daniel replied “but go on, I’m intrigued.”

Eadaoin just rolled her eyes but consented to follow Cahir to led the pair from the arrivals lounge, past a sway of souvenir shops, restaurants and paper stands to a little Café near a travellator.  He then turned around and pointed to a table.  Eadaoin followed the direction of his finger and her eyes fell on a woman who had her same waist length curly red hair, who had the same freckles and same bright blue green eyes her hands flew to her mouth and she let out a loud squeal of recognition.

“NEVIE?” she squealed “Nevie?  Ó mo dhia an é sin tú i ndáiríre?” (Oh my God is that really you?)

Eadaoin abandoned her trolley and ran forward holding out her arms and engulfing the woman in a crushing hug.

“Oh my god it’s been too long!” she exclaimed her voice muffled slightly by the woman’s hair “what are you doing here?”

“Well its Christmas and you know I always come home for the holidays,” the woman replied in a sharp Irish accent “and I quit my job back in The Hague-”

“What for?”

“I got into the law PhD program at Oxford!” the woman exclaimed excitedly “so I have to move back to the U.K!”

“No way!  They accepted you?” Eadaoin squealed excitedly “oh my god congratulations!  When did you find out?”

“A week ago, so I had a week to pack my apartment up and ship it back here because I start the program orientation in mid-January!” the woman replied “literally everything is on a truck heading to London now, even the Jag, well except all my music and art stuff.  I had to spend a metric shit ton of euros to get that back on the same flight I came back on.”

“When did you get here?” Eadaoin asked incredulously “and why didn’t you tell me this a week ago?”

“Well you were in L.A and after the shit few weeks you and Danny have had I wanted to leave you be to rest and wind down, my news wasn’t an emergency and I knew I would be seeing you soon enough anyway.  Cally said I can crash with him til I find a place near Oxford.”

“Oh my god it is so good to see you!  Holy shit it’s been so long!” Eadaoin exclaimed jumping up and down excitedly “are you staying for Christmas?”

“No, I’m going home to Mullingar for Christmas and New Year’s on Friday morning then I have to come back here and sort all my gear out.  Then I have to fly back to Amsterdam because I have the dogs in boarding and ship them back here.  I’ve moved house in less than a week and it’s a huge boil on my arse.” The woman replied “For the time being I just want to enjoy the Christmas holidays.”

“Oh and you will, we have a Christmas party in a couple of days you must come!” Eadaoin exclaimed “Cally’s coming and so are a whole heap of Danny’s driver friends.  Mum and Dad are coming over for Christmas and so are Danny’s parents, sister and brother in law and their kids; this is going to be the BEST Christmas ever!”

“It is, so are you going to introduce me to your new bloke?” the woman asked “because he’s looking awkward A-F watching us talk a million miles an hour.”

“Oh my god how could I forget?” Eadaoin exclaimed grabbing the woman’s hand and dragging her over to Daniel “Nevie this is my boyfriend Daniel, he’s the greatest guy ever, babe this is my cousin and best friend Niamh.”

“Hi nice to meet you,” Daniel said extending his hand in amusement.

“Likewise,” Niamh replied “nice to finally meet you, Eadie bangs on about you all-the-time.”

“O fuck off I do n-” Eadaoin began.

“Eadie you never shut up about Danny,” Cahir pointed out “it’s nauseating.”

Daniel let out an amused snort of laughter as the redhead gave her brother a dead arm.

“C’mon let’s get you back to the Manor House.” Cahir told Eadaoin and Danny.

“The Manor house?” Eadaoin repeated “but we haven’t finished moving all our stuff yet....”

“Well you haven’t,” Cahir replied with a grin “I’ve moved all the rest of your and Danny’s stuff with the help of Sean and Ciara from Whelan’s, we figured after the last few weeks you’ve had the last thing you wanted to do after a ten hour flight  was finish moving house.  Now you can concentrate on getting ready for Christmas Day.”

“Ah you’re a good egg,” Eadaoin said grabbing her brother in a playful headlock and ruffling her hair “how are the renno’s going on your place?”

“Chugging along,” Cahir replied as the group began leaving the airport “the garden’s all ready to start planting in the Spring and I’ve got an electrician and plumber coming tomorrow to look at the wiring and plumbing, and some demo guys coming the day after to gut the kitchen-apart from that nothing’ll get done to the new year because the tradies I’m using are going on holidays.”

“Sounds like everyone’s got exciting times ahead!” Niamh exclaimed cheerfully “what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?  I’m hitting up the clubs in Dublin with a few of the girls from law school.”

“We’re heading to Monaco,” Daniel replied “Max my friend is hosting a few people from the track in a VIP room at Jimmyz, y’know the nightclub? Its near the beach so we’ll have a great view of the fireworks at midnight.”

“Sounds fun,” Niamh said brightly “well sounds like everyone’s having a grand holiday all the people that matter are together.”

“It does,” Eadaoin said happily giving her cousin a squeeze “has Cally taken you to the Manor House yet?”

“Nope we decided to wait til you and Danny were back so you could show us yourself,” Niamh replied “its your home, its no ones business to be there but yours until you invite us in.”

“Well you’re definitely invited;” Eadaoin informed her cousin brightly “is that alright babe?”

“Yeah why not, you guys eaten?  We could get pizza.” Daniel suggested “there’s a proper Italian pizza joint not far from the Manor House Eadie and I order from all the time. They do calzone’s my Nonna would be envious of.”

“We were going to get a curry but pizza would suffice,” Cahir replied as they exited the building and into the frigid London air.

Following Cahir and Niamh closely Daniel and Eadaoin made their way from the main arrivals building and deep into the short term parking shed where Eadaoin’s Range Rover was parked.

“So when is everyone arriving?” Niamh asked Eadaoin and she helped her cousin load their bags into the rear hatch.

“Mum and Dad arrive Tuesday morning, Grace and Joe Danny’s parents mid Tuesday afternoon, we have the Christmas party Tuesday night Danny’s sister Michelle, her husband J and their kids Isaac and Isabella Wednesday around lunchtime then that night I have a Christmas carols gig at Whelan’s. Thursday and Friday afternoon we’re setting up for Christmas day then Thursday night we’re going to Winter Wonderland then midnight mass.  Saturday morning Sean and Ciara are putting on a Christmas breakfast we’re going to then we’re going back to the house for Christmas lunch.”

“You’re barely going to have enough energy to scratch your arse!”

“Nah we’ve got the few days after Christmas to rest up for that,” Eadaoin replied “we’ll need to prepare because Max puts on a helluva party.”

“He tries to drink anyone under the table,” Daniel piped up with a snort s they all piled into the car “typical Dutchman.”

“Aye he obviously hasn’t gone drinking with a couple of Irish girls then,” Niamh said with a snort as Cahir started the engine.

“Eadie would send Verstappen to hospital,” Cahir piped up as they left the airport grounds “I have no doubt about that.  Has Max surfaced from Abu Dhabi yet?  He’d have only have just gotten over his hangover wouldn’t he?”

Daniel laughed.

“I suspect so,” he said in amusement “ah but so would I if I had won the championship.”

“And now you’re going to get him drunk at the party,” Eadaoin said.

“Well yeah of course, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t try to get him drunk?” Daniel replied with a grin “it’s the most wonderful time of the year there’s go to be some booze involved!”

Barely half an hour later Cahir pulled up in front of Daniel and Eadaoin’s new home.  The couple noted with amusement the loud LED Santa Claus and reindeer arrangement affixed to the fence that hadn’t been there the last time they had been at the property.

“Did you put that up?” Eadaoin asked as the gates began slowly opening.

“Yup with Sean and Ciara’s help,” Cahir replied with a grin “there’s a few things inside too that we helped out with because we knew you wouldn’t have the time or energy to do it yourselves.”

“I owe you big time Cally thanks so much,” Eadaoin informed her brother leaning forward and squeezing his shoulder.

“Nah that’s alright squirt you and Danny have had a pretty shitty time of late and I just wanted to make things a bit easier for you both,” Cahir said cutting the engine “c’mon let’s get inside it’s freezing!”

The quartet piled out of the car and made their way into the manor house. Niamh took in her surrounds and immediately swore.

“Feck this gaff is gorgeous!” she exclaimed as Cahir turned the lights on to reveal the extensive Christmas decorations decorating the hallway “going to name it?”

“Hadn’t thought about it to be honest,” Daniel replied watching Eadaoin inspect all the Christmas decorations “any ideas?”

“Nothing comes to mind, when you name something you need to find its soul, it’s heart then something will come to you,” Niamh replied “its an old Irish thing my maternal Mhamo (Grandma) goes by.  A name for a gaff needs to be something you and Eadie are connected to or by if you’re not connected to the name this place will only ever be a house and not a home.”

“I’m too jetlagged for your brand of philosophy Nevie,” Eadaoin told her cousin in amusement “Cally can you order some pizza?”

“Sure, you guys go unpack and I’ll get started on some coffee too.”

“You’re a lifesaver!”

Daniel and Eadaoin made their way upstairs to their new bedroom and began unpacking their possessions.

“Holy shit Niamh looks like you,” Daniel commented as he hauled his biggest suitcase onto their bed “you could pass for sisters.”

“I know funny isn’t it?” Eadaoin replied “her Dad my Uncle Tadgh and my Dad are identical twins.  Nevie and I were mistaken for sisters all the time when we were growing up, the only difference between us really is that I’m a little taller, you should see Cally and Niall Niamh’s older brother they literally do look like twins.”

“What about the rest of the family?”

“All look similar but nothing like me Nevie, Niall and Cally.” Eadaoin replied “it’s easier to tell Niall and Cally apart now though because Niall has and eagle neck tattoo that Nevie did when Niall graduated vet school.”

“What Niamh tattoos?” Daniel asked stopping in his tracks “like properly?”

“Oh yeah she did an apprenticeship and everything, I’ll let her tell the story though.”

“Has she done any of your ink?”

“Yeah she did my zodiac tattoo and my strawberry tattoo and did the last lot of work I got done on my rose piece.” Eadaoin replied “she does some really nice work.”

The pair unpacked all their belongings then made their way down to the kitchen where Cahir was busy at the coffee machine conversing with Niamh in rapid fire Irish.

“No wonder Mahmo tells you to slow down at family functions!” Eadaoin pointed out as she slung an arm around her cousin’s shoulders “you sounds like a rusty sub-machine gun when you really get going.”

“Pog mo thoin,” (kiss my arse) Niamh muttered rolling her eyes “so what are you guys doing for the holidays?”

“Staying here til the end of the first week of January when Mum and Dad and Danny’s family go home then to Monaco for a couple of weeks til I have to start back at the office,” Eadaoin replied “or maybe somewhere sunny Kimi’s spending the Christmas New Year break in the Maldives and Max and Kelly said they were thinking of heading to Barbados for a week or two.”

“We’d both like to go home to Australia but we’d have to quarantine and we don’t have time to do that and get back here in time to prep for the new F1 season,” Daniel said wrapping his arms around Eadaoin’s waist and resting his head on her shoulder and with both our schedules we’re not likely to be able to go back home til the summer break next year.”

“Just how do you handle all that travelling?” Niamh asked in amazement “I love travelling and hopping in a plane as much as the next person but you’d fly over a hundred times a year that would drive me around the bend.”

“Eh you get used to it honestly,” Daniel replied “for work I fly mainly private which makes things quicker overall and between races I usually go back to my place in Monaco where I can properly relax plus the program my trainer has me on helps deal with all the physical stress so it’s not so bad.”

“So now the season is over what do you do?  Drink beer and get fat?” Niamh asked with a grin as Cahir slid a steaming mug of coffee across the bench to Daniel.

“Well I’ll imbibe a little but not to the point where I get fat, my trainer would kill me if he came back from holidays and I had a beer gut,” Daniel replied with a grin “I’ll still hit the gym but just not as vigourously and just do anything but whatever I usually do for work, the off season is all about disconnecting and sleeping properly.”

“Eh if I ‘had your schedule I’d be spendin’ my holidays in bed on my back with my legs in the air,” Niamh said with a grin “gotta relax properly don’t ya?”

“NIAMH EADAOIN O’SIODACHAIN!” Eadaoin bellowed her face turning a violent shade of scarlet “FÉIN A FHÁIL TÚ FUCKING BINT!” (BEHAVE YOURSELF YOU FUCKING BINT!)

Cahir and Niamh roared with laughter, Eadaoin threw a teatowel at her cousin and gave Cahir a dead arm.

“Fuck you both!” she shrilled “oh my god!  You are so EMBARRASSING!”

“She’s got the right idea though Darling,” Daniel said with a grin dropping down into a nearby stool and pulling her into his lap.

“Oh not you too!” Eadaoin yelped “oh my god!  For fuck’s sake ask Nevie about tattooing instead of embarrassing your girlfriend!”

“Oh you found out about that then?” Niamh asked giggling as Eadaoin hid her face in her hands.

“Yeah just now when we were unpacking,” Daniel replied “what sort of styles do you do?”

“Just about everything,” Niamh replied “hyperrealism, Americana, watercolour, portraiture when a client comes to me with an idea I try and run with it, I’m not afraid to give something a go.”

“What’s your rate?”

“Depends on the project, minimum a hundred and sixty euro an hour, half day five hundred or full day eight hundred,” Niamh replied “I don’t tattoo drunk or high people, nazi or discriminatory imagery and I don’t do buttholes, or genitals.”

“Pictures of buttholes or genitals or actual buttholes and genitals?” Daniel asked with a grin.

“Both, I mean I’ll tattoo someone’s bum or near their bits but not actual bits,” Niamh replied “I had a guy come into a shop I was working in years ago wanting me to tattoo a smiley face on his knob and I told him to fuck off, I mean no buddy just no.  I wouldn’t even do that for an intimate partner. I know people who will do that sort of stuff but I see tattooing as a craft I don’t want to get the rep of ‘that tattooist that will ink up your poop chute”

“How did you get into it?” Daniel asked in interest.

“When I was in high school I was quite arty and my year ten art teacher’s son ran a shop in Dublin so she showed him some of my drawings and was offered a job manning the phones, social media and cleaning the shop with a view of starting an apprenticeship, I did that but got accepted into law at Oxford so I transferred my indentures to a shop that was owned by a friend of his and did my apprenticeship alongside my law and psych degrees and worked in various shops in England til I got a job in the Netherlands five years ago by then I was out on my own and did by appointment stuff only. Both of my parents and all of my siblings, Eadie and Cally and I did a huge birds of prey back piece for my last law boss back in Amsterdam that was fun.”

“Oh oh you’ve got the Honey Badger thinking,” Cahir said with a chuckle.

“Want to get something done?” Niamh asked with a grin “let’s talk. I’ve got all my gear with me, I could ink you tomorrow.”

“I have an idea,” Daniel grinned “but it doesn’t involve buttholes or genitalia.”

“That area is totally Eadie’s domain,” Cahir piped up with a huge grin.

“If I had a house brick handy I’d cave your skull in it with it!” Eadaoin grumbled as he and Niamh roared with laughter “must you embarrass me?”

“Yes I must, I wouldn’t be performing my big brother duties properly if I didn’t embarrass you,” Cahir replied.

“Oh go choke!”

************************************************************************

Two hours later after much pizza and alcohol Cahir and Niamh made to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow with all my gear and we’ll get you inked up,” Niamh informed Daniel cheerfully “gotta get home and sober up first.”

“I look forward to it,” Daniel said with a grin

“I’ll be over tomorrow night for the party” Cahir told his sister embracing her right as the Uber pulled into the driveway “I’m working til six so I might be a tad late.”

“That’s alright see you then.”

Daniel and Eadaoin watched Cahir and Niamh climb into their car and leave then turned and made their way back inside, Eadaoin immediately jumped into Daniel’s arms and pressed her lips against his.

“What was that for?” he asked in amusement

“If I wasn’t so drunk and jetlagged I’d fuck your brains out,” Eadaoin murmured peppering his face with kisses “you and vodka make me incredibly horny.”

Daniel laughed heartily.

“Maybe in the morning?” he suggested with a grin kneading her backside with his hands.

Eadaoin lit up.

“Sleepy morning sex for the win!” she exclaimed loudly as she slipped out of his arms “how about we cuddle in the meantime?  I’m good at that.”

“So am I!”

************************************************************************

[fantasticcloudcreation]

Sep 23

Just got to the hotel! Blessed by the weather gods today, had the perfect amount of cloud cover and it wasn't hot at all until the sun came out for the last hour of the drive, hallelujah.

My roommate isn't here yet and I want to get high and lounge around but I have to go get groceries first, send me moral support 🙏 half tempted to just, not, but I know I'll regret that in the morning when I have no caffeine and no food...

-

Update: it's now 7:30pm, groceries were acquired, roommate is still not here, I'm gonna take a shower and drink a beer and eat an edible and hopefully relax.

(I'm rambling again so I'm putting the rest under a read more)

Have to be at work around 7am tmro, technically start time is 8 but it's the first day and I gotta figure out where to park and get all my gear together etc. Also didn't get cigs so I have to stop somewhere in the morning...

And I have to eat dinner tonight??? (Ugh you mean I have to eat the food I just bought?? Lol) The weed will probably help encourage that. Wish I had a cig right now I'm a lil bit stressing but it'll be fine, life is good, I will survive even though it's gonna be hot af tmro...

I finally got a new hairbrush (lost mine a couple weeks ago) and it actually feels so good to brush my hair again haha.

Wishing I had a cuddle buddy here tonight but it is what it is! D will be here for show days and hopefully I'll be off work that week in between so we can hang out, that'll be nice.

Right now: just trying to relax, get settled. Got all my stuff organized so whenever roomie shows up it at least looks like I have my shit together 😅 hoping she doesn't ask to carpool to work bc my van is a mess + no AC, but maybe I can just say that and she'll find another ride... Also thinking about like, it's always hot af trying to drive home after work in Austin traffic direct sunlight etc; maybe I'll just hang out at the park for a while after work, cool down in the shade, do some yoga read a book etc, and then drive home once the traffic subsides and the sun goes down? Idk just thinking. (Stop thinking so much just go take a shower and relax, whatever happens tomorrow will unfold on its own time.)

Also, my period is starting, I actually might die tomorrow - it'll be ok just take breaks and eat snacks and pour ice water on your body haha. Last year I went home early twice bc of the heat and I'm going to try so hard to keep it together this year. I haven't built a stage since April but you know what, it's really not that hard, find the easy tasks and start doing them before anyone else does them 😂

Unrelated but L just told me he quit his job and is starting another endeavor, very happy for him but also bummed bc maybe now I won't see him at the next 2 gigs and I was really looking forward to that......... But maybe I will, idk, I don't want to be clingy and weird but at the same time I want to spend more time with him? Like basically we met, hung out for 3 weeks straight, and haven't seen him since lol. I'm sure we'll cross paths again at some point but who knows when.

Anyway, the edible is kicking in already, that was fast but maybe it's bc I haven't eaten anything besides a small bag of chips at like, noon... Go shower and eat dinner and watch something silly on TV. Set an alarm and figure everything else out in the morning. It's all going to work out ❤️

[the-batcats-mder]

Description of Book

About Her

Soulmates

[Posted on here on: July 2, 2024]

Chapter 1 Forest

Note: Don't hate me, but I'll like to state that I haven't watched Titans yet. I've seen clips, povs, and read some fanfics, but i haven't seen the show yet. I've seen in total like 1 or 3 episodes…. A year or two ago.

It's on the list of shows to watch, just not yet to be watched.

This is, of course, following the characters from the show, but I'm going off on something totally new. So, I won't be following the show anyway. Just wanted to state that right away that I haven't seen the show yet. So I can't fully take requests for the show… yet. I bet when I watch it fully, I'll be writing for it 🫣.

First posted on here: [July 1st, 2024]

(Might have to edit again, and might change name of book later on)

Chapter 1 Forest

Third person pov.

Forest, a nineteen year old teenage woman, peaks over her shoulders every few seconds as she does her trick of getting a car that she doesn't own to start working without its keys; doing so very quietly.

It didn't take Forest that long to get it started up and had the car moving fast down the road, leaving the motel behind so she could start another long day of trying to find her family.

Gotham was still dark out at this time of early morning.

Forest knew where she had to go. Working late last night, she found a possibility of where Dean and Sam Winchester could be.

Before she could go and check the place out, she knocked out and slept at least an hour before she was rudely awakened by the next motel room beside her being….. eighteen plus shit.

Her leaving so fast this morning wasn't just because of the maybe find of her siblings; it was also not being able to handle the whole,

‘PLEASE MORE’ ‘DADDY YES!’ screams of the next room.

So she left fast.

Today is October thirty-first. Halloween.

It's Halloween! Well, five in the morning on Halloween day. Still Halloween, though.

Half the population celebrates this ‘holiday’ and is looking forward to it when they wake up. Though, there are people who don't enjoy it or even celebrate it, maybe for religious purposes, or just don't celebrate it or, in general, hate the holiday.

For Forest and her brothers… they don't totally hundred percent hate the pagan holiday, but they do hate ninety-seven percent of it.

Maybe if it wasn't for the monsters, creatures and so on that people dress up for fun; were actually fake, then maybe it would be good fun for them too, but that's not their reality.

Almost every monster, creature and so on are real; and most of the time are causing more problems on Halloween day and night because they are able to do more than they can on October thirtieth or November first.

In general, Halloween is just ‘worse than normal’ for hunters.

So when the clock hit twelve o'clock, marking it as October thirty-first, she kind of dreaded it. She knew how this day and night might go.

Especially when she's in Gotham city trying to find her brothers because they once again went missing and probably needed saving.

Gotham City was one of the most active cities out there when it came down to the creatures, monsters, and so on. Now add Halloween to the mix; it was ‘worse’.

Today she had a time limit, before it hit dark out again, she needed to find her siblings.

She wasted too much time sleeping and trying to find any hints on where they could be.

Though, this wouldn't be happening if Dean and Sam weren't…. Stupid.

Dean and Sam Winchester were getting Forest really pissed off recently. For the past few months they keep on going on hunts without her; she's fine with that, never really cared about it now, but every time they do, she's having to track them down and save their ass's from getting killed or at least hurt really badly.

If they just brought her along, maybe, just maybe, things would go differently, and they wouldn't be wasting time on really anything.

She could be home watching a show on her long list of shows she wants to watch, or doing her own hunts; but they keep not bringing her or at least telling her where they are off too or what they are even hunting, causing a long ass search for them. A lot of the time, though, the hunts the fifth hunt, causing her to either pass them or have to go farther off to find them.

She's been to three different towns and cities before finding herself in Gotham city with a hopefully better lead than before.

It's been a month and three days so far, and it's just getting more annoying and frustrating. More than just one reason why.

One, she wants her brothers to be safe and so far she doesn't know if they are, two, to her she should have already found them and got this all dealt with already and it's not, three, as selfish as it sounds, she hasn't watched anything for this month and three days and all she kind of wants is to watch something or at least get more then three hours of sleep, but she can't because her brothers comes before shows and at times sleep.

So here she is, semi speeding down the back roads of Gotham city in a car she doesn't own going to where she thinks and hopes she needs to be going to. Hoping that it won't take long to get there too.

The sun is finally slowly peeking out now, casting the cold October air with some warmth.

Forest bounced her head and fingers to the music she's blasting. She loves when she has control of the music, she hardly has it when she's with her brothers because the driver gets to pick the music and the others keep their cake holes shut, so having the music choice all for herself she's taking every chances to blast what she wants to listen to… but she misses it though. She misses her brothers a lot. She wouldn't say it to their faces, but she does.

She kind of wants to be bickering in the backseat about why she can't play something she wants to play.

‘Ring!!!!’

“FUCK!”

The car came to a stop with a loud screeching noise. Her back hits the seat, and she groans, and she stops the music and picks up the call.

“Hello?”

---

Across Gotham city Dick Grayson is slowly getting ready for work.

Five pm was the time he had to clock into work. The last few things he was able to do before five were to do a quick workout before showering, eating, and then finally leaving for work.

He was dreading this work day. He knew what he was being put to work today, and he didn't want to do that job. He would rather be on a lead than scan the abandoned buildings around Gotham city.

It was so fucking boring to him. He didn't understand why he was put on this job when there are semi newbies that could be doing it.

He had no say, though. He had to do this or else he would be put to desk work and as much as driving around and checking if there is any activity in a place that's not supposed to be active is boring, it's not as boring as desk work.

So he just did what he wanted to do and then got ready for his work day.

Before he left, he got a quick kiss from Starfire.

“love you, baby!”

“Love you too!”.

Off goes Dick Grayson to his normal day (also at times night) job; the one without the masks and the badass ass kicking.

He was hoping this Halloween night would be a calm one.

Yeah, not going to be happening. This is Gotham City, after all.

And Halloween.

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

I hope you like it.

I’m sorry for any short chapters.

I'm also sorry for any bad grammar or spelling errors.

I would very much like to say thank you for taking the time to read my chapters, I really appreciate it.

----

There's warnings ⚠️ for a reasons. If you skip them, that's fine, but not my fault if you're taken back by what I write for.

----

[sweethartlullaby]

so you remember to miss me

word count: 1.9k genre: angst (ofc), uh...fluff, maybe? perhaps? warnings: language as always, imagine whoever you would like sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

"don't do that." you laughed as a chuckle escaped his lips.

"don't do what?" he teased, making you roll your eyes before moving your gaze away. it was five minutes away from midnight, five minutes left of a sleepless and tireless night you spent with him. it shouldn’t have felt weird and it shouldn't have felt wrong. but for some reason, the close proximity between your bodies still sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your mind went back to daydreaming about what could have been.

you let out a sigh, realising you still had a pile of work at home and knowing you'd have to be up early again tomorrow morning for your shift at your second job. 

"maybe a day off wouldn't be so bad. you look tired." he mentioned and immediately all you could think of were your dark eye bags and how awful you must have looked, and for him to see it all up close. it's so strange how you still felt so conscious around him when you shouldn't, and strange how as the train occasionally slithered across the tunnels and you bumped into him, you still had to suppress the blush rising in your cheeks. it should stop, it should have stopped a long time ago. It had been years since it happened so it should mean nothing by now.

"really wish i could, but hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." you made a small gesture to sarcastically show how enthusiastic you were and he let out another one of his musical breathy chuckles.

you were still in love with him, it was no joke. you knew from the moment you saw him again and everything came rushing back. it was like a train, much like the one you were standing on now. it was fast and blurry and it hit you out of nowhere but there was no blood or wounds instantaneously. instead, the memories came back one by one and sliced open the tough skin you had worked so hard to build, the armour you placed on yourself as protection. all of it was gone within seconds when he smiled and called you again. loving him was always so dangerous and like a moth drawn to a flame, you were always called to it.

you looked up from your shoes and took a deep breath, about to say something when you noticed his strong gaze on you. your breath hitched in your throat and oxygen seemed to have run thin all of a sudden. his familiar eyes would never cease to amaze you in every way possible and you still saw the stars that lay in them. even after the hurt he gave you, you should easily look into them and feel nothing; but you found yourself looking away just as quickly, gulping down your nerves and pushing down your thoughts.

another sigh escaped your lips, this one short. you noticed the train coming to a halt as the woman announced your stop on the speakers. you did a double check on all your belongings before nearing the door just as the other mass of people did. you just wanted to go back home and rest on your bed right now, to not think anymore about everything that’s going on. 

as soon as your foot stepped onto the platform, you let out a small yawn and walked to a nearby pillar at a slow pace, knowing he would be right behind you and not wanting to lose him. you did it once, not the greatest experience. 

”i can't wait to go home and shower and sleep.” you dragged the last word and his lips stretched into a smile as your hands reached above your head. the station was empty now as the train had left with its new passengers and the ones that got off with you had rushed up the elevator.

”what?” you asked with your eyes half opened.

”nothing.”

”don’t ‘nothing’ me. tell me.” you pouted a little, too tired to deal with his blurry signals again. that’s all you had been getting, mixed signals again and again. to be honest, you were getting tired of his games, but some part of you loved the thrill of it all. curiosity killed the cat but you were hoping the satisfaction at the end of the day would bring you back to life. 

”you’re cute.” he finally said and as much as your heart stopped in your chest, your mind was forcing it to beat again because it knew this all too well. it realized the familiar sense of the pain coming, the hurt approaching and it wanted to stop the damage before it was done. but your hopeless heart fell for it again and again, stupid and helpless but strong. maybe this time it would be strong enough to go through it all over again.

”don’t say shit you don’t mean.” you mumbled and began stepping into the elevator.

”who said i didn’t mean it?” he chased after you and your eyes squinted at him with an expression of ‘are you serious’ written all over your face. he raised an eyebrow and you sighed again before stepping up the platform and scanning your card on the machine, letting you pass outside. 

”seriously though, who said i don’t mean the things i say?” he repeated the question as you continued to walk, ignoring everything he said and he chased you.

”hey i’m talking to-”

”because the last time i believed what you said, i got hurt.” you finally turned to him with tired eyes and slumped shoulders. every breath you exhaled turned into a cloud of vapour and you laughed a little, watching it appear under the city lights. 

”you told me you wanted me,” you said quietly, almost an inaudible whisper if it weren’t for the silent streets of 12 am on a weekday. 

”then you left the next day.” you looked up at his gorgeous face and felt your heart stutter in your chest. you realized you probably shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have said anything and kept it all in. but all you did was take another breath and look away before you would burst at the seams from his gaze. 

”you told me i was the only one in the world that you would ever want, then you found someone new within months.” tears formed at the brim of your eyes as you looked at him again, fighting every urge to let your knees buckle and let you fall onto the ground.

“i know i should be over it because it’s been years and we’re both great friends now. things should be different.” you smiled sadly at the ground, letting your tongue slowly wet your cracked lips from the cold weather.

”but you do things and you say things and it just takes me back.” you laughed a little as a tear slid down your face and you looked back at him.

”don’t say shit you don’t mean,” you breathed out slowly.

”because you have no idea how much i’m holding back every single day, to try not to hug you and hold you the way I used to,” you couldn’t believe what you were saying. you sounded so desperate, so pathetic. but wasn’t that love? wasn’t love meant to tear your ego away, to strip you of your armour and let yourself be vulnerable, to stand naked in front of the person you loved and trust them even though they’ve torn you apart? wasn’t that love; the difficult but oh so familiar love you knew like the back of your palm?

”to try and not kiss you the way I used to?” you paused and looked away from his eyes, not able to handle his gaze again. 

”if you’re having fun,” it came out as a whisper but it felt like a shout to the void.

“playing these games with me, messing with my brain and toying with my feelings,” you looked to the ground as more tears escaped your eyes.

”i hope you realize that it actually burns.” you smiled again at him, chuckling a little with the pouring of tears heavier than before.

”i hope you realize, that it feels real to me and that it hurts like hell when I realize you don’t actually want me.”

”so don’t hurt me like this and say you mean what you say. i’m sorry,” another pause.

”but i’m just so tired with the games.” you exhaled and used your palm to wipe your tears, chuckling a little more. 

”you always said you wanted to see me cry in front of you, who would’ve known hmm?” despite the worst timing for a joke, you knew nothing would feel right at this moment anyways.

”i’m going to go home, cry about this in the shower, and in bed and then can we just wake up tomorrow,” you spoke in between tears.

“and pretend nothing happened?” you asked, finally done wiping them away.

he stayed silent throughout and you actually thought he wouldn’t say anything so you turned, ready to leave.

“then don’t hold back,” he said and every inch of you stopped. a soft breeze blew in between you two, the sign of a cold winter to come both in your heart and the city.

”whatever you want to do, whether it’s to slap me, or punch me, or even kiss me; do it.”

you chuckled as you turned back, still smiling sympathetically at him as you shook your head. 

”what’s the point if you don’t want it?” you shrugged and looked up at the sky, trying to stop yourself from bursting into another round of tears.

”can we just go-”

his lips on yours within seconds, something you had dreamt of for years to feel again, something you had never thought you would forget but God, the way he tasted so sweet and the soft feeling of everything rushing back. 

his lips on yours, the secrets you never told each other all evaporated between the non-existing space between you two. the stories of pain and anguish vanishing in a simple movement.

his lips on yours, the perfect puzzle you tried years to solve. the perfect fit for each other that you wanted to have back so badly, that you destroyed yourself over. this, this pain, this love, this fear and want that you had held in all poured out in one single kiss.

”i want you,” he whispered as he pulled away, your face still in his hands.

”and I mean it with every fucking bone in my body.”

”i want you more than anything this world has got to give me and i know it sounds like a load of crap but,” you laughed a little and so did he and for a small moment, it felt like a movie. the romantic kind that made your heart melt.

”it’s you, it’s you that i want.” your tears had spilt out again and he didn’t wipe them and you were grateful that he didn’t. because these tears, the drops sliding down your cheek onto his thumb, cascading down both of your skin, these were the tears you had been waiting for. the ones that had held all the pain, all the sorrow and finally released themselves out of your body. these were the tears that had kept you up at night, wondering endless thoughts about what happened and where anything went wrong, the tears that held the dreams you had of this exact moment. 

the moment your soul would’ve found itself again, and ready to love.

a/n: hi! i tried to not do any capitalizations in this one, so i’m sorry if one slipped up TT but yes! i hope you liked it. i’m kinda just reading through old ones that i have written before and editing them one by one until i get newer ideas! but thank you for reading and i apologize for any mistakes. leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed it! 

[thatgeekyemo]

Hope Dangles On A String

peter parker x reader | 3.3k

summery: "So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?" You can't have heard that right. Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

prompt 5: "Could you hold my hand?", requested by iloveyou3000 on Wattpad

note: I wanna see who gets some references I made. Some are more tricky than the others. (Hint: I've already made one)Also, this was written before NWH came out :)

The library had become one of your favorite places since you came back. It was quiet, filled with knowledge, and always air conditioned.

The library at Midtown School of Science and Technology in particular was a place you spent most of your free time in nowadays. You always got to the school early in the morning and always stayed hours after the school day was over. Ever since The Blip, it had become your second home; it was the most familiar place you could go to. A place where you could re-adjust to the world you grew up in and catch up on the five years of history you missed.

Currently, there weren't many people in the library with you, since school wasn't set to start for another month. But the administration always left the doors open for the book club and Decathlon team. You weren't in either, but as long as you still followed the rules, you were always welcome.

The library was a safe place. No one ever bothered you, and you could always get what you wanted to get done done.

You were friends with the librarian. You even helped out every once in a while. Being surrounded by so much information and stories helped you feel at ease. Helped you feel like you weren't the only person with the loss of them. Like you weren't the only one out of the loop.

With a book open in front of you--about how the world dealt and built itself back up after half its population suddenly disappearing--you tried your hardest to understand how the world functioned when you were gone, having been one of the people that disappeared.

It was a hard thing to wrap your mind around, believing that you had been gone five whole years. Everything just seemed like a blink to you. One second, you were scared for your life, wondering if Iron Man and Spider-Man were ever going to come back from following that alien spaceship into the sky. The next, you found yourself on the floor in a bedroom that wasn't yours, but at the same time was. One second, you had been sitting in dead silence, the next, the air was filled with the ear splitting yell of a young girl, screaming at you like you were an intruder in your own home.

You were.

In what felt like a blink, an entire five years had passed on Earth. Had passed everywhere. People grieved. Then people moved on with their lives.

You, among hundreds of thousands of other people, had to find new homes. New jobs. It was hard to believe that you were thrust five years and two months into the future, when just a second ago, you had been in 2018.

But of course, you knew the entire world couldn't be playing a giant trick. That against all probability, it had actually happened. You had to believe it whether you wanted to or not. This was your life now.

Just as you were getting settled, some boxes in your new room still unpacked, your parents urged you to go on your science class' summer field trip. They, as well as you, had thought that maybe it could help you unwind from the stress of living in a familiar but unfamiliar world.

Instead, Mysterio and the Elementals had happened, and what was supposed to be a relaxing summer vacation turned into looking over your shoulder to make sure another danger wasn't creeping up out of thin air every waking moment.

You had broken down in the airport once it was all over. Once everyone was safe. It was all too much. You didn't understand how people could live their lives like it was normal. How they weren't affected like you were. Too many life changing and endangering events had happened in rapid succession and it was too much for you.

It was Peter who held you then like he always had. It was Peter who pulled you from your spiraling state by making you focus on his voice. It was Peter who held your hand and wouldn't let go until you were okay enough to pull away.

You could always count on him to get you out of a tough place and stick by your side for the entirety of it all. And he didn't ask for anything out of it. Just that you would do the same.

That was a promise you had made to him years ago.

There were two other people in the library with you, not including the librarian, who was in the back room. You took note of them the second they walked in. You didn't know their names, so you figured might have been kids that survived. It was easier for you to keep an eye on everything around you. It made you feel better. The two teens had identical books of their own open in front of them, so you had initially assumed they were in the school's book club. But as the time passed, they disregarded reading and resorted to their phones. It didn't matter to you what they were doing. As long as it didn't break your concentration, they could talk quietly and laugh amongst themselves all they wanted. You didn't bother them, they didn't bother you.

So when you caught them staring, you had tried to disregard it. You hadn't done nothing much other than read the book you had checked out. There was a list of things that made you uncomfortable, and people staring was on it. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept your own trained on the pages in your hands. You knew you hadn't looked bad when you left your house that morning--your clothes were clean, your hair was combed--yet there was something that continued to make you their point of interest. It set you on edge, how their whispering dropped so that even you couldn't hear the words in the silence of the library. You hadn't done anything wrong, so what made you so interesting?

You didn't like being the center of attention. Not more than you already were. People treated you like you were some kind of baby, since you returned. They pitied you. Saw you as someone who needed help. And while you were, you didn't need them butting in. You had your own support group. Your own ways of getting the help you needed. But no one knew. No one really cared. Not unless their 'acts of kindness' were visible for the public to see.

So why single you out now? In the seclusion of the library, where no one else was around?

You thought about leaving, just to get away from their prying eyes. You had noticed them get up and move to a table closer to yours, really not subtlety at all. But then just as you made the decision to pack up once you finished the chapter you were on, you realized that you could hear them. The reason because they moved closer or having raised their voices up for debate.

"But she's his best friend!"

"You can't seriously think she helped him do it, can you?"

"We don't have any proof she didn't!"

They seemed to be arguing. Loud enough for you to hear. Loud enough for you to figure out they were talking about you.

It made your skin crawl. The fact that you were the topic of their conversation, but you had no idea what they were talking about. The fact that they were blaming you for something. You hadn't committed a crime in your life. The closest you'd ever come was bearing witness to more than a few.

You unconsciously found yourself squeezing your fists tight enough that you felt your nails digging into the palms of your hands. Taking a deep breath, you came to the unsettling conclusion that they wouldn't stop unless you dealt with it.

For the first time, you turned your head to look at them. Taking a moment to try and further understand the situation, you watched them. They couldn't have been older than you, they looked around your age. One of two things that stood out from the picture was that the girl had dyed bright pink hair. The other was the bright red news headline that lit up her discarded phone screen.

The boy caught your eyes first, promptly shutting his mouth and a look of fear flickering on his face. His reaction made the girl stop and look over at you, her eyes narrowing instantly. Like you were some kind of suspect. And going off of what you heard them talk about, you might as well be.

Shakily, you stood up and walked over to their table, holding your arms close to your body. You opened your mouth to say something, but you hadn't really thought this through.

After a gulp, you found your voice. But you were starting to feel small under the girls stare. "Hi." You tested carefully, your voice quiet. "Do you- do you need me for something?"

Her eyes lit up like she was just given a gift. The boy just cowered in his seat, like he was ashamed. "Yes, actually!" Her voice was cheerful, but the smile on her face was fake. Her words had a sharp edge to them, and you were afraid that they were nearing to cut you. "You haven't heard the news?"

"Billie, don't." The boy whispered behind her, glancing up, but avoiding your gaze.

"Don't what?" You tried not to flinch as Billie stood up. You couldn't stop yourself from stepping back though. She was taller than you, and her proximity was too close. "What news?"

"About Spider-Man." she stated blankly like she was bored you didn't already know. She paused, and it looked like she was waiting for your reaction. "About Peter Parker."

"No?" You said slowly, confused to hear those names put together like that. You wanted to ask, but that wasn't the point. You wanted them to stop talking about you. If for some reason there was some news involving Peter and Spider-Man that he hadn't told you yet, you were sure to find out soon. And if you didn't, you could just look it up when you got home. "What does it have to do with me?"

"Billie." The boy warned again, but she just sent him a glare.

"Get your phone out."

"I don't--"

"Now!"

"Um," you started to stammer over your words, not understanding what was going on. "Excuse me? I-I don't really want to be recorded--"

"So you're telling me you don't know about how Spider-Man killed Mysterio?"

You can't have heard that right.

Mysterio was dead?

You blinked. "What?"

"Don't play dumb." She snapped, her brows furrowed in determination, making you flinch. The accusation unlike any you had ever heard. "Tell us the truth. Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?"

The words hit you like a slap to the face. They didn't sound right. They didn't feel right.

Peter wasn't Spider-Man.

Was he?

And Spider-Man definitely wasn't a murderer.

That you knew for sure.

Did you?

Peter wasn't Spider-Man. He would have told you. And you knew for a fact that Peter wouldn't kill someone. Neither would Spider-Man. And he sure as hell wouldn't have killed another hero.

But that's not what Billie was saying. She was saying that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. That Peter killed Mysterio. Killed Quentin Beck. And that you knew--no. Not knew. Helped him do it.

A hundred things were clawing at your brain, wanting to be spoken all at once. It swarmed in your head, bombarding your thoughts. It was hard, but you managed piece together a single sentence. Albeit choppy. "I don't-- I have no idea what you're talking about." You breathed out shakily.

"It's a simple question: did you, or did you not?" Billie asked again, her voice more insistent this time. The boy fumbled with his phone as she stepped forward, forcing you back.

"No!" You said as firmly as you could, tripping over your feet. If it wasn't for the table you were sitting at to catch you, you would have fallen. "I didn't even-- I didn't even know!" Why couldn't she hear the truth in your voice?

All comfort you found in the library disappeared in an instant. The silence you adored felt deafening. The calm was suffocating.

"How am I supposed to believe you? You're his best friend! Everyone knows that! You had to know something." She spouted the accusations as easily as popping a bubble. "Ryan, are you getting this on camera? Every news outlet is looking for any known associates, and we need this proof!"

"Who- who the hell do you think you are?" You could feel your own voice breaking as you continued to back away until you felt the strap of your bag hanging off the back of the chair you were sitting in. You snatched up the book you were reading and almost missed shoving it in. "I told you I don't want to be recorded! Leave- leave me alone!"

You grabbed your things and ran for the door, but the words continued to follow you.

Spider-Man killed Mysterio?

Did you help Peter Parker murder Quentin Beck?

You heaved a breath, the feeling of it getting harder and harder to breathe quickly overcoming you.

You didn't understand.

What was going on?

The sunlight seemed too harsh as you nearly fell over yourself outside. You didn't stop though. Not until Billie and Ryan gave up on chasing you. Until you were far away from the library. And only then did you stop only to breath so you wouldn't collapse.

It looked like the world was frozen. Their eyes glued to the nearest screen available. Phones, shop televisions. Any screen on any one of the hundreds of skyscrapers surrounding you.

And they all read the same thing.

London Attack Revelations: Spider-Man responsible for Hero Mysterio's Death

THEDAILYBUGLE.NET EXCLUSIVE: Peter Parker revealed as the murderer behind the mask of the menace known as the 'Spider-Man'

Voices overlapped in your head. The people around you reacting. The different news stations relaying each other. Your own.

But what stood out the most was the shaky video on display directly across the street from you.

You didn't recognize the man, but you recognized the suit. This man was Mysterio. Beck. Beat up with blood on his face and surrounded by broken glass.

And the words came right from him mouth.

"Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!"

You felt your senses dulling around you then. The only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart trying to keep you alive.

So many secrets. So many truths. Too many.

You felt yourself loosing your grip, but no one was there to stop you from falling.

Usually Peter did that.

But Peter wasn't there.

Peter was Spider-Man?

Peter was a murderer?

A loud roar from a gathering crowd was enough to get you moving, even though you felt--well, you didn't know how you felt.

Your feet moved without much thought. Bringing you to the one place where you thought you could be safe. Where you could lock the door and cover your ears and close your eyes and wish it would all go away. That you would wake up from this horrible nightmare.

Your feet moved, and you mindlessly made it back to your empty apartment.

It wasn't home. You home had been taken away from you. The walls were empty. The furniture brand new.

Your hands shook as you locked the door behind you. That's when you lost the sliver of control you had, sliding down against the front of the door in a gasp that let everything flood you.

Tears burned against your skin as they streamed down your face. Tears of confusion. Tears of hurt. Tears of anger. Tears of any reason you could possibly think of.

It was a lot to comprehend at once.

Too much.

A frantic knocking on your door made you flinch and let out a yelp. You scrambled away, barely standing yourself up when you heard a voice.

"Y/N?" It was Peter. "Are you-- are you in there?"

Oh God, it was Peter. Standing on the other side of your apartment door. Sounding the most scared you've ever heard him in his entire life.

You stayed silent.

"Y/N, please-please. I can hear you,"

And you could hear just how much he was pleading. How his voice was shaking with every syllable.

"Please let me in. I can-- I don't know what you've heard yet, but I can explain everything. But I really need you to let me in. You're all I have left and I know-- I know it's selfish, but, Y/N, you're my only hope."

You're breathing became heavier and it held like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist.

You couldn't leave him out there.

But in a quick motion, you reached forward and unlocked the door.

Once the locked clicked, the door opened and Peter stepped in faster than you could register, locking the door again behind him. "Y/N, I'm so sorry--"

You backed away from him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't make you leave." You demanded, the words sounding more foreign than a different language as they left your mouth.

Peter's expression was heartbreaking. His hair darker and plastered to his face from sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears already threatening to spill. A look of hurt painted over his face like it was a damaged canvas.

"L-look, I know about everything that they're saying about me out there, and-and I know how it sounds. Y/N, I'm not asking you to like me right now or even trust me until you sort things out because I know this is too much so fast. And I'm so, so sorry. But I'm alone and I'm afraid and all I'm asking is could you please just hold my hand? Even if you can only do it for a little bit?"

Your eyes didn't leave Peter.

They couldn't.

You didn't see Spider-Man as you looked at him. You didn't see someone capable of killing someone in cold blood.

All you saw was the boy who held you when times got rough.

The boy who defended you from bullies even if it meant he would be going home with a black eye.

The boy who stayed up with you all hours of the night when you woke up from a bad dream.

The boy who cared about you more than he cared about himself.

The boy who held your hand through it all.

And here he was. In front of you. Asking you to do the same.

After all, you had promised.

Peter Parker wasn't a murderer. That, you were sure of. The odds could be stacked against him twenty times over and you still wouldn't believe it.

But everyone wasn't like you. The world believed it. And the world was after him.

You looked at the boy. Peter wasn't a murderer, but he was broken. Broken over and over so many times, that he's now unable to put himself back together all alone.

You looked at the boy who held your hand all those years, and was asking the simple thing of you: to hold his back.

You looked at Peter, and all you could see was someone who needed you the way you needed him. The boy who has always needed you the way you needed him.

And now more than ever.

You cleared your mind enough to focus on that one thing. If you had learned anything, is that you needed to take the road to recovery one step at a time. And you already know what the first step was. What you had to do.

You take his hand.

A fractured smile twitched on his lips as he held on tight, heavy with the fear that you might let go. But you already made up your mind, despite what you knew you were going to have to do. Knowing that when the time came, you would have to turn your back on the world. To protect Peter. Because he needed you like you needed him.

"I can do more than that."

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn���t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[tuulikannel]

Sai, suicide & the Heian period

I was suddenly reminded about a discussion I had a long ago (like… 10 years?) with someone in Hikago fandom about Sai and the idea that his suicide was somehow… unnecessary. For one thing, I’m not sure what is a necessary suicide… well, I know she meant that Sai wasn’t a samurai who’d have to commit seppuku to regain his honor or something such. But yes, overall… of course Sai didn’t have to do what he did. Of course his suicide was what suicides in general are: a heart-breaking tragedy that wouldn’t have had to take place. But it was also absolutely in character for him as a Heian age aristocrat. Back when we talked about this, I couldn’t yet properly make this argument, so I’m doing it now 10(?) years too late. ^^;;

Sai is truly an embodiment of what a Heian age man should have been. Sensitive, above anything else. Open to mono no aware, the pathos of things or however you’d like to translate that. We might think that his (unjust) punishment, being exiled from the capital, doesn’t sound that bad. But the thing is, the capital was the entire world for a Heian age aristocrat. The provinces… well, there was no worse slur than to say that someone is countrified. A good example about this is Sugawara no Michizane (who, btw, after his death became Tenjin-sama, patron deity of academics. I think it’s overall pretty funny how that happened, but it’s a different story.) He was once given the position as the governor of one of the so-called home provinces, i.e. those nearest the capital. This was a good position, an honor, really, and something like that was bound to happen sooner or later. These posts lasted only for a few years, and everyone had one every now and then. But when it was time for him to go and he had a farewell party, he was in tears. You’d imagine he’d been sent somewhere at the edge of the realm from where he would never return.

A banishment, then? It was very nearly the harshest punishment you could receive. Death penalty was quite rare, in the end. You’d be sent somewhere much farther away than the home provinces, and the likelihood that you’d ever return really was close to zero. And everything that matters – the sophistication, the culture, life, or in Sai’s case, go players – would be something you’re leaving behind for good.

There’s a part in The Tale of Genji, where prince Genji is banished because he had an affair with one of the emperor’s wives. Well, sort of banished, anyway… That story, btw, is truly the Bold and the Beautiful of its time. If I remember right, the emperor, who should have been Genji’s half-brother, was in fact his son, cause he’d also had an affair with a concubine of his father’s. Unless I got the people confused, it’s all quite a mess.

Anyway, I say sort of banished, cause he in fact left the capital voluntarily. Again, it’s been really long since I read it, but if I remember right, the emperor (who must have been quite young, as the emperors were those days – they retired quite early) knew about the affair but didn’t mind it, cause it had started before the marriage. (Affairs were a Thing back then.) Unfortunately the girl’s father and sister (who was the empress) hated Genji, and when the daddy dearest caught them in action, it became a scandal and Genji deemed it best to leave the capital for a while. This was, of course, simply so that he would have a chance for a rustic romance, finding a beautiful wildflower blooming in the faraway provinces.

And once Genji was getting tired of that romance and really beginning to miss the capital, the emperor had a dream where the ghost of his father reprimanded him for treating his brother like this. (“Brother”… I guess ghosts aren’t all-knowing either…), and so the emperor called Genji back. But this goes to show that returning from an exile wasn’t such a simple thing, even when you weren’t officially exiled in the first place. It took otherworldly intervention and the call from the emperor himself that Genji could return. So what hope was there for Sai?

Someone like him who so fully embodied the ideals of his time – beauty, refinement, sensitivity… what other ending for his story was there but a “poetic” death in a hazy river, really.

(I say ending, but luckily this is fiction, and in this case, it was the beginning.)

[therealpussybangs]

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

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Starring:    Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev                                                          

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual-    intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!  

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Aone-

                Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative. 

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you. 

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply.                     “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm. 

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

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Goshiki-

 You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong. 

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu. 

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door. 

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!” 

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home. 

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Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say  the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

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Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music. 

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother. 

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men. 

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him. 

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces. 

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

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Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

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[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.