#my mantra for this month: you’re writing this for fun and it doesn’t have to be a masterpiece

[adverbally]

Full Disclosure

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “bitching/studding” | wc: 1,431 | rated: M | cw: nonconsensual studding, parental abuse and neglect, anxiety and panic attacks, vomiting | tags: studded Alpha (formerly Omega) Steve, Alpha Eddie, Steddie, early relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

———

Eddie likes to think that he knows Steve pretty well after a couple months of courting, well enough to notice the odd things that form a pattern of behavior over time. He tries to dismiss them as quirks at first, or just a bad day, but it’s gotten to the point where he can’t ignore the red flags that are flapping in his face.

Like, maybe it makes sense that a big shot Alpha like Steve prefers to take the lead in their relationship. Even though Eddie is an Alpha, too, he doesn’t have much experience and he’s content to let Steve be his guide. So he lets Steve drive when they go somewhere together and open doors for him and press him against the wall to kiss him breathless.

He gets that Steve can be a little nervous, prefers to stay in control whenever possible. That’s why Eddie has only ever asked to fuck him once— the obvious discomfort and anxiety that had marred Steve’s face is burned into Eddie’s memory, and he remembers it every time he wants to suggest switching things up. There’s no point in pushing when Eddie is perfectly happy to let Steve fuck his brains out.

But the alarm bells really start to ring one afternoon in late August, when Steve comes to the trailer and has the worst panic attack Eddie has ever seen.

It’s not the first time he’s seen Steve like this, shaking and gasping for breath as he kneels in front of the toilet. There’s a certain routine to it by now, much like the one they use when Steve has a bad migraine. Eddie rubs his back while he heaves, talks to him softly, wets a washcloth to wipe the sweat and bile from his face. Steve usually comes back to himself within a few minutes, quieter and paler than before but still willing to enjoy some quiet time with Eddie.

Today, though, everything Eddie tries seems to make it worse. Steve is sobbing when he isn’t actively puking his guts out, and he physically flinches away when Eddie reaches out with the washcloth to help him clean up.

“Just go!” Steve shouts. The sound echoes since he’s still head-first in the toilet bowl, but Eddie can see his face in profile: eyes scrunched shut in misery, sucking in air through his clenched teeth.

It stings but Eddie obeys, even if he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. He slinks back to the kitchen, not wanting to go too far in case Steve suddenly needs him again. There are a few dishes to be done, the remains of his lunch to clean up, just enough to keep him busy. He’s just wiping down the countertop, cleaning up any remaining juice from the peach he scarfed down earlier, when Steve shuffles out of the bathroom.

“Can we, um.” He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “Talk outside?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees, drying his hands on a dish towel before following Steve out the door.

In the warm afternoon sun, Steve looks awful. His face is pale and waxy, the hair at his temples damp with sweat, and he’s swallowing hard every so often, like he’s still choking down nausea. When he sits on the front steps, he drops like his strings have been cut.

Eddie sits beside him, moving slowly enough for Steve to stop him if he doesn’t want him that close.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Steve begins, kicking the toe of his sneaker into the dirt.

“I get it. You were feeling shitty and I was making it worse.” He wonders if Steve can hear the unspoken question between the lines: what did I do?

Steve nods, still not looking up from his feet. “I have something to tell you. Something nobody else knows, not even Robin. It’s… I don’t know how to say it, really, but I’m gonna try because I think I owe you an explanation.”

Dread settles in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. If this is something that Robin doesn’t know, it must be seriously bad. Like, forced into an arranged marriage, dying of some crazy disease, apocalypse-level bad. But he can hear Steve take a deep breath, steadying himself before he dives in, so he stays quiet and listens.

“I presented the summer before junior year. My heat was miserable. Like, I know they’re not fun for anyone but it was especially bad because I was alone. My parents were out of town so it was just me, trying to make a nest on my bedroom floor with any blanket I could find.”

Eddie’s heart breaks for him at the scene he pictures– Steve aching, sweating, crying, with nobody to help him through it. He can’t think about it too hard, though, because the implications of Steve having presented Omega, gone through his heat and everything, but being so confidently Alpha now…

As if reading Eddie’s mind, Steve continues. “Of course I couldn’t hide it from my parents once they got home. They could smell it all over me. My mom just cried, probably because she knew how my dad would react.” He pauses, shuts his eyes. “I don’t know how long he screamed at me. All that shit about how his only son couldn’t be an Omega, how this was just another mess of mine that he would have to clean up. Then he locked me in my room for two days.”

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers. He can’t help it, smelling the fear and anger coming off Steve as he relives his trauma. He needs to comfort him. Thankfully, Steve takes his hand when he offers it, squeezing Eddie’s palm with clammy fingers.

“He drove me to Chicago, to some clinic where he knew the chief of designation reassignment. I was there for a month. A whole month of hormone therapy and rehabilitation to ‘fix me,’” he sneers, “turn me into the alpha my parents wanted.”

Now Eddie feels nauseous. “You were just a kid. Studding is… it can’t have been legal for them to do that, not to a minor who couldn’t consent.”

“Like they cared.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “My dad got what he paid for, didn’t he? Never mind that they basically had to torture me for weeks, pumping me full of drugs, suffocating me with my own slick, making me–” He cuts himself off suddenly, clapping his free hand over his mouth like he thinks he might be sick.

“Baby–”

“It was the peach from your lunch,” Steve confesses, voice trembling as he holds on to Eddie for dear life. “When I walked in, it was all I could smell. That's what I– my scent before, it was peaches. It was like being back there.” He sniffs and scrubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

Frankly, Eddie wants to yell, too, at Steve’s shitbag parents, at everyone at that facility who hurt Steve, but that’s not going to help right now. Instead, he strokes his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand and murmurs, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you mad?”

Jesus. Eddie takes a breath. “I’m mad that that happened to you, but I’m not mad at you.”

Steve nods, still not looking at Eddie. “It felt like I was lying to you, you know? You were with me but you didn’t know. And I know you’re probably gonna say something about how it doesn’t matter to you whether I’m an Alpha or an Omega–”

“It does matter,” Eddie insists, “if it matters to you.”

“I don’t know yet. It’s taken me this long to tell someone, let alone figure out how to feel about it.” He shrugs. “I’m not unhappy as an Alpha but… well, who knows how I would’ve felt if I’d stayed an Omega. Maybe I would’ve hated it. But it should’ve been my decision, not theirs.”

Eddie squeezes his hand again. “Yeah, but you still have choices. If you wanted to, like, explore that part of you, try something new, I could help.” He thinks Steve gets his meaning, since a flush starts climbing up his neck. “But nothing has to change unless you want it to.”

With a deep sigh, Steve leans over to rest his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

He rubs his cheek against the top of Steve’s head. Not his most subtle scent marking move but Steve needs the obvious reassurance right now. It’s gonna take time for him to heal from this, Eddie knows, and he’s gonna be there every step of the way.

[formidxble]

summary: you and chan follow a routine every night. tonight’s different. 

pairing: bang chan x female reader 

word count: 3.1k

genre: angst, like Extreme Angst™️, college!au, established relationship

warnings: a lot of swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of sex ( oh and btw, this is not beta read. we die like men)

note: omg? finally? i got to write something and now i’m posting it on here? confidently??? who is she, we don’t know her! enough jokes though, this is my first fic ever that’s going to be posted on this platform, so i’m excited! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome 👉🏻👈🏻. 

tagged ❤️: @popisdead @hanflix

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

it’s become routine at this point. 

when chan sees your room’s light turn off, it’s a signal that your roommates are now headed to bed and that you’re ready to come out and meet him. it’s been a busy few months for the both of you and the nights were the only time you two could meet. he’s a business major working on his business proposals for the semester and you’re a performing arts student, preparing for this semester’s art production. saying it was hard to make time to see each other was an understatement. nevertheless, you two made sure you still met, may it be only for a few minutes. some nights you were lucky, being able to meet for an hour or so. nights were reserved for chan and for chan only. 

after putting on your coat, you reached out for the door knob as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. “are you coming or not? i’m freezing” you sigh softly.

the first few nights were fun, you have to admit. impromptu grocery shopping for the both of your food supplies for rest of the week, a few make out sessions here and there, and sometimes, leading to even more if you both were lucky enough. it gave you a high you never thought you would ever come down from. whenever he kissed you after a long day, you felt as if the weight on your shoulders fell off, even for just a moment. whenever chan held you in his arms and told you it was going to be okay, your chest loosened, even for just a moment. chan was the calm in the chaos and when you were in his car, holding his hand and feeling his lips lingering on yours, he provided the needed break you longed for during the day.

but, as the days and weeks passed by, the nights became shorter and quieter. rides became quicker and the good conversations slowly turned into mere small talk. no longer would he give you soft touches, no longer would he ask how your day went, and no longer would chan look at you the way he did before. no more i love you’s, no more second glances when he dropped you off at your dorm during the early hours of the morning. you excused the change of behavior as the result of your fatigue in school. the change was expected, you always told yourself.

it’s become a mantra now, something you repeated to yourself as you lied in bed at night, a routine. a routine. 

you close your eyes for a moment as you twist the doorknob to open the door. you focus on your phone again as soon as you got out of your dorm. “coming."

you spotted chan’s car a mile away. before, he would put the window down to greet you, a soft smile spreading across his face. now, you were faced with the car’s tinted windows, your reflection staring back at you as you wrapped your fingers around the handle of the car door. you heard the lock click. 

“hey,” you mumbled. you heard a soft hum in response. you quietly put the seatbelt on, relaxing your back on the seat as you stared ahead. chan was on his phone, seatbelt off. light from his phone illuminated his features. the bags under his eyes were a little bit more prominent than the last time you noticed. you wonder if he’s been eating, getting enough sleep, but you weren’t in the position to ask now. not when frustration is starting to boil in your chest.  

you didn’t know if you should call him out. it was his way to unwind as well, but then again, he was there to pick you up for a short date. this was the only time you both had for yourselves, yet here he was, texting away on his phone. this shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does now because chan does this whenever he was waiting. 

“hey,” you repeat louder. chan looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised. 

“yes?” he asks, turning his phone off. the two of you are surrounded in darkness, with only the light from the lamp posts outside lighting the interior of the car. 

“what do you mean, ‘yes?’ are you serious?” chan furrows his eyebrows at your words as he straps himself in. he turns to you, blinking. you suck in a breath. 

“this is the only time we get to spend together and you’re on your phone? are you ser—“

“i’m sorry. there,” he breathes,  “can we move past this? i’m not in the mood to fight.” he interrupts. you open your mouth to say something back, but you’re cut off by the movement of the car. 

the air inside the car was heavy, heavier than usual. sure, you and chan had a couple of unresolved fights the other nights and sure, you spent you early mornings crying over him, but it should have been resolved with the few kisses he gives you, right? then why are you so upset now? chan makes amends, tells you he’s sorry for raising his voice, for ignoring you the whole day. he was busy, right? of course he’ll end up not texting you. he kisses the pain away, even though he’s the reason for said pain. he talks his way out and if he avoids the topic of the fight, you wouldn’t mind. that was the routine. but not tonight, apparently. 

“you’re always not in the mood.” you whisper, crossing your arms in front of your chest. you watch the trees outside of the car starting to blur as chan’s driving sped up. this night will end as quick as it started, you thought. you hear a sigh beside you. 

“i just—“ chan starts, “i can’t fight anymore, y/n. i’m tired.”

“and you think i’m not?” you answer back, looking at the man beside you, “god, we never talk anymore, chan. all we ever do is fuck the pain away and—“

you’re cut off by the sight of chan’s knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel. you almost don’t see the way he clenches his jaw. he pulls the car over at the side of the road and for a second, you think you two will be able to finally talk about your issues, the problems that were never muttered, but still plagued your relationship. god knows you wanted to hear from him, anything— fuck, just anything to finally resolve it, fix it. to finally end the routine you both had. but that hope shatters as soon as his mouth opens. 

“what do you want me to say? we’ve been okay, we’ve been fin—“

you let out an exasperated sigh, eyes meeting his, “we aren’t fine, chan, we haven’t bee—“

“what do you mean?” chan questions. he removes his seatbelt to turn to you. a gentleman he still was, even though you knew he was avoiding the topic. again. “fuck, what do you want me to say? i was on the phone. how does that merit a full blown argu—“

“it’s not about the damn phone!” you exclaim, finally feeling the frustration in your chest blow over. 

were you going crazy? why didn’t he see the changes? doesn’t he feel the frustration? were you the only one feeling this way, then? does he feel that everything was okay or were you that good at acting that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong? you run a hand down your face as you try to collect yourself.  the car became quiet, as always. chan was never really vocal about things like this and let you do the talking. maybe this is why issues were never resolved. 

“then, what is it about?” chan mumbles, eyes never leaving your form. you let out a soft scoff.

"what is it abou—are you kidding me? are you fucking with me?”chan raises an eyebrow in response, furrowing it afterwards. he lets out a sarcastic laugh after a few beats of silence. he shook his head as he turned to face the road again. 

“is this fight going to last all night? if so, i’d rather just drop you off,” he starts to put his seatbelt on, "we can continue our date when you’re not this moody."

and at that moment, your world nearly stops. the silence in the car was loud and the tension, if you could see it, could be cut with a knife. his words echo in your mind as the car starts moving again, chan preparing to make a u-turn to go back in the direction of your dorm. 

“not...this...moody?” you repeat to yourself. chan nonchalantly hums in response. 

you couldn’t even look at this man anymore. it was as if you didn’t know him anymore. he carried the name of your boyfriend, but was he really the chan you knew? the chan you knew won’t be able to say these things to you, let alone treat you like this. you feel like a deer in headlights, shocked at how everything led up to this moment. and to think that the turning point of your relationship was something as simple as chan being on his phone. you closed your eyes as you tried to fight the lump forming in your throat. 

“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask. "just go home and think about what i did? what i said?”

chan shrugs. he shrugs. you couldn’t believe how he didn’t take this conversation seriously. was it because you’ve been in this exact same situation before? sure, fights have been frequent, but were they frequent to the point that chan just straight up ignored them? to the point that he never brought the topics up again? no effort to try and fix it?

was he that tired that he was willing to let everything pass? let you suffer in silence? 

“stop the car,” you whisper shakily. chan doesn’t listen, though. he never does, he rarely does. he never listens anymore. 

“chan, please stop the car,” you feel stupid begging, but that does it. he stops the car again, your dorm building in sight. his knuckles start to turn white again, but he closes his eyes this time. you hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose. 

“i can’t fight anymore, y/n, please, just...we can fix it tomorrow, whatever it is.”

you let out a soft sob at his words. “chan, you always say that, god, you always say that.”

chan grips his steering wheel tighter. “yes, i do, but we always fix it. we always end up fixing it.”

“no, we fucking don’t!” you scream now, releasing the frustration that has been clawing to come out, “no, we don’t fix things, we fuck it away and we pray that things magically turn okay in the morning, but it never does! it never fucking does!”

chan stays quiet, eyes drifting to the car floor. you wish you could know what he was thinking. you wish he would talk to you, tell you what he really felt instead of just sitting there. god, were you tired. you were tired of pretending things were okay when they aren’t. you were tired of telling yourself it would be fixed, that the relationship would go back to normal, but it never does. and you just somehow have to live with it because that’s how it is with you and him. that’s the routine, right? and even though you hated it, you tolerated it because you loved him. but people will reach an end point, one way or the other. you can’t help but feel that this was yours. 

“loving you is so exhausting, chan, i—“ your voice cracks, “i’m supposed to be content with this treatment? you and i not talking the whole day and then meeting at night just to make up for lost time, have sex, and pretend that everything’s okay, that the fights have not gotten out of hand, that we’re going to be ok—“

“we are going to be okay, fuck, it’s not that easy,” chan mumbles, “i’m trying, y/n, but i can’t give you everything you need, not anymore.”

silence fills the car and it engulfs the two of you. 

"what changed?" you sob softly, tears now slowly flowing down your cheeks. it was okay, a few weeks ago. days became busier, tasks became heavier, but did that mean that your relationship had to deteriorate the way it has been? 

“nothing changed, please, y/n,”chan breathes, not turning to look at you, “we just got busier and—"

“we weren’t like this, chan, we used to talk about things. w-we used to...talk. we can’t even do that now? am i asking for too much? i shouldn’t be begging for your time, chan, please—“you cry out softly. “why am i always second to you, chan? i try to be the best for you, chan, please.”

chan lets out a shaky breath as he tries to find the words to respond with. “y/n, it’s not y—“

“spare me the bullshit. spare me the "it’s not you, it’s me”. at least, be honest with me.” you say firmly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks harshly. 

“i...i just don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet, okay? i want to fo—"

your feel something in your chest. a pain you’ve never felt before. chan’s words become a blur as you feel your back hit the seat. 

you’re taken back to a time in your childhood when you were trying out the jump rope your friends had. being the idiot you were, you jumped in time with the rope and it tangled on your feet. you ended up falling on your chin, scraping it in the process. the pain rang through your skull and for a while, you couldn’t move, tears merely streaming down your cheeks. and to that that one time during one of the art productions in university, you ended up falling off of the stage. of course, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but maybe if they turned on the lights before lowering the stage, you wouldn’t have broken your ankle. you remember how worried chan was, but most importantly, you remember how much it hurt. you couldn’t walk and if you tried, it would shoot pain up your leg. 

adding all the pain you’ve felt in all those moments, it wouldn’t amount to the pain you feel now. 

not ready? not ready after 3 years? how could he say that? this was the man you saw your future with, someone who was supposed to be your soulmate. that was him, that was chan. the nights you shared, the words you uttered, were all those fake? were all those just to make everything feel okay? 

not ready? 

not ready.

the words echo in your mind like a broken record. were you supposed to beg him to stay? beg him to be ready when he just admitted that he wasn’t? as you turned to look at him, you didn’t see the chan who loved you. instead, it was the shell of the man who used to love you, care for you. fuck, was love supposed to hurt this bad? you feel your heart starting to crack even more.

if this was love, you didn’t want it. not anymore.

“drop me off,”you mumble after a deafening silence, voice shaking as a sob threatens to come out of your mouth. chan turns to look at you, finally. you don’t meet his eyes anymore. you, instead, just look straight ahead. if he wasn’t ready for a commitment, even after 3 long years, then you were not about to beg him to stay. chan opens his mouth to say something, but you notice that he just swallows his words. he turns to look in front of him as he pushes on the gas again to drive back to your dorm. if he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. there’s no point in trying to convince him he is. the next best thing is to leave and let him figure out what he needed to figure out. if he needed space, he could have told you. what bothered you the most is the fact that chan’s always been about communication, but somehow and somewhere along the journey, he changed. maybe that’s just how it goes. 

when he pulls up in front of your dorm building, chan turns to look at you again, eyes scanning your features. “i’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

you shake your head, eyes closing as you tried to fight the urge to cry again. the question he asked has always confused you. it was always like this, that even after a fight, he expects to see you again, the same time, the same place. you were tired and it didn’t help that you now knew why he wasn’t acting the same— he wasn’t ready to commit to you, even after all this time. 

“i’m ending it here, chan."

“ending what?”

ending the routine, ending the cycle, ending us. these words rang through your head and you didn’t know which to answer. was he acting aloof so that he could get off easily? that maybe you’ll let him off again because he somehow can’t understand what was happening? you swallowed. 

“us, chan, i—i can’t go on like this anymore,” you pause. was this what you really wanted or were you doing this to prove a point? you weren’t sure, but one thing’s clear, you had to do this, not only for him, but for you. you can’t subject yourself to this cycle anymore. you had to break it sooner or later. “when i get out of this car, we’re over."

chan’s car became a place of love and security in a world full of uncertainty and chaos. it was where you both spent time together when you needed a break, when you needed to be together. now, it was a place of loneliness and despair. it became a place full of resentment and unresolved issues and you can’t help but wonder how chan will be able to sit in his car again without thinking of this moment. before he could respond, you were out of the car. 

in the back of your mind, you hoped that he would call you, run after you. beg you to stay, tell you that everything will be fixed if you just gave him time. you prayed in your head desperately. if he did so, you know you’ll come crawling back to him. if he showed some sort of care, some sort of longing, some sort of initiative that he wanted things to work out, that he wanted this as much as you do, then maybe you’ll come back to him again. that’s how it always was, right?

right?

behind you, you hear the car drive away.

[nooneactuallyasked]

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 4

Requested: I am my own requester, we have fun here

Word count: 2,513

Warnings: Not enough Reggie? (Does that count? It does now lol)

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: Sorry this took so long to get out, it’s quite a bit longer so that’s why. Also, can I just thank and say hello to @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic​, all of your comments and reblogs are so sweet, you’re amazing! There will be more Reggie content coming up, this is a slow-burn, I hate when characters instantly fall in love, I feel like they need to make a connection first. Okay, enjoy!!!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

---

“Alex, stop pacing! Reggie- what- what are you doing?”

“Practicing my bass.”

“In mid-air…….without your bass?”

“It’s called an air bass, if I’m made out of air my bass can be too.”

“Okay, you do that.” Julie grabbed her keyboard stand, standing in the garage doorway, “Luke make your bandmates calm down, I have to take this out to the car.” Without an answer, Julie stumbled out of the garage towards where her dad and the car were waiting.

Luke scribbled in his notebook, without looking up, “You guys need to chill out, as long as we’re all together we’ll rock so hard there’s no way Cal will say no!” Reggie smiles and points a finger at him, “Plus, Y/N will be there, she’ll be able to convince Cal for us.” He adds as Julie jogs back in, “Okay we should be good to go as you guys can all poof in your instruments. You guys should get ready to leave.”

“Alright, but let me finish this line. I am in the zone.” Luke scribbled some final words on his notebook pages before looking up, “Alex, get off the runway, you’re gonna fall over the table or something.”

“But what if he says no and not even Y/N can convince him? I mean, what if- what if he has other bands in mind and just said yes to Y/N because she works there? What if we play and completely mess it up!?” Luke deadpans Alex as his bandmate starts shaking his hands up and down, his pacing increasing.

Luke rolls his eyes, standing up and holding Alex by his shoulders, “Chill, we’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna do amazing, like we usually do.”

“Guys, we need to go. Like, now. So, hurry up, move it!”

---

“So, Cal, my good buddy, my favourite boss, um...would it be alright, and remember that I’ve been a faithful worker for such a long time, would it be alright if I skipped every other audition apart from Julie and her band’s?” Y/N dragged out, her voice rising in pitch, trying to convince Cal with her best puppy eyes whilst he stared back at her with a deadpan expression.

“No, sit down. We have some performers to listen to.” She sighed and sat down in the chair next to him, putting her elbows on the desk in front of them, “I saw that coming…” she leaned her cheek against her palm as Cal chuckled at her, “And yet you always ask.”

“One day…one day I successfully skip this bullshit, mark my words.”

“Sure, sugar-pie. Now stop your grumbling, our first performer comes in 2 minutes.”

---

I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love and all your lover’s revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Oh oh oh oh oooh-

The poor girl’s voice broke. Y/N could see it coming, her vowel technique needed a bit more work but the girl was obviously passionate, this would crush her ego.

“You can stop now, we’ve heard enough. We’ll let you know.

Y/N winced, Cal could seem really cold at times however the warm smile he gave every performer at the end of his mantra definitely helped ease any hurt they may or may not feel.

“I can’t wait to perform here, I know you’ll make the best choice. I’ll see you on Friday.”

Maybe this wouldn’t crush her ego, after all, it seemed the thing was infinite. The girl walked out, her high heels clicking on the floor as Cal sighed. She knew why, when auditions were open to anyone who could arrive on time it was hard to find people who had that spark when performing. It doesn’t matter how good your voice is if you’re boring to watch then you might as well not show up.

Friday’s were important, they were a chance for anyone to get on stage and become an overnight sensation. But it got complicated when there were so many people that they had to pick and choose. That’s why they tried to get as many people as possible to perform, everyone deserved a chance to live out their dreams.

“Alright, I’ll grab our next victims. See you in a sec.” Y/N stood up, her chair scraping on the floor as Cal rolls his eyes, “Try to make it not sound like we’re about to murder everyone.” She chuckles, “Sure, I can try but I can’t promise it will happen.”

Y/N walked out of the door and into the ‘waiting area’, this happened every month and yet she never got used to how tedious it was. She picked up the waiting list and scanned the names, “Yulie and the- uh, the atoms? Anton's? Uh, come on through.” She put down the list and walked out, only hearing a chorus of male voices, “Again? Really?” “None of us are even called Anton!” and an awkward laugh from a female voice.

She sat back down in her chair and turned to Cal, “One Yulie and the Anton’s coming or up, or atoms, I’m not quite sure.” Cal started laughing, “Sounds fun, maybe we’ll get some science jokes.” Y/N started laughing too, “As long as it’s not physics I think I’ll be fine.”

The door opened up and four familiar faces walked in, all looking slightly sheepish. “Hi, sorry, it’s actually Julie and the Phantoms. Sorry if we’re late at all, we didn’t really know what time to come.” Cal raised an eyebrow and Y/N chuckled,  “That would be my fault, I never got round to giving them a time. This is the band I was telling you about,” She turned to Julie, “Sorry, I completely forgot the name and the writing, no offence, didn’t particularly help me out.” Luke grimaced at her words as Julie started laughing, “Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll get someone else to sign us up to things in the future.”

Cal coughed to gain our attention, “As much as I love this friendliness we don’t have all day, we have all of your kit here, our guys brought it in earlier. What will you be playing for us today?”

“Oh, uh we’ll we playing a song called Edge of Great. We hope you like it.” Y/N smiled at Julie and Cal nodded, pen at the ready. She hoped for the life of her that they were actually good or Cal would never trust her judgement again.

Running from the past

Tripping on the now

What is lost can be found, it's obvious

And like a rubber ball

We come bouncing back

We all got a second act, inside of us

Julie sat at her keyboard, her finger dancing over the keys. She seemed lost in the music and it was obvious how passionate she was, it made even Cal, the ever poker-faced, break out in a small smile. Julie moves to the middle of the performing area, as the beat drops the boys appear causing Cal to double-take in surprise, Y/N snickers in response.

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N nodded her head and tapped her feet to the rhythm, her smile grew wider and wider, Cal would never doubt her again and she got to listen to a killer band, today was looking up.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

Luke kept sending glances toward Julie as she was dancing in between them all, the stage presence was amazing. They were definitely at the top of Y/N’s list of potential performers.

We all make mistakes

But they're just stepping stones

To take us where we wanna go

It's never straight, no

Sometimes we gotta lean

Lean on someone else

To get a little help

Until we find our way

Luke and Julie gravitate towards each other, their excited smiles growing soft and caring; the chemistry was definitely a plus, it was incredible to watch, like watching history unfold. The two share a microphone as they sing the chorus, Reggie and Alex share a look and Y/N smiles, not even Cal could find a fault in their performance.

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N started dancing in her seat whilst Cal laughed. She then had a brilliant idea, she stood up and tried to pull Cal up to dance with her. While he refused and tried his best to stay down, his efforts were almost futile against his laughing and Y/N’s upward pull on him.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great) Great

(On the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of...

Luke went back to his mic and Julie came over to Y/N, she smiled brightly and they danced around together. They both felt like they had made a firm friend, the fun dance they shared confirmed that feeling, neither could have felt happier at that moment, they were lost in the music and everyone around could see it.

Shout, shout

C'mon and let it out, out

Don't gotta hide it

Let your colours blind their eyes

Be who you are no compromise

Just shout, shout

C'mon and let it out, out

What doesn't kill you makes you feel alive

Y/N moved back from Julie and sat back down, her smile still evident. Cal laughed at her and she pushed him with her shoulder. Julie turned to Luke as he moved toward her, the heart eyes were back.

Ooh-oh

I believe

I believe that we're just one dream

Away from who we're meant to be

That we're standing on the edge of great

Reggie and Alex joined Luke in singing the chorus as Julie continued her high belt which left Cal in slight shock and Y/N almost jumping and screaming in support and excitement.

Something big, something crazy

Our best days are yet unknown

That this moment is ours to own

Y/N smiled at Alex when he looked up, he beamed right back and continued singing and drumming with a passion that shined through everything else. She looked over to Reggie and sent a smile his way too. He winked at her and chuckled when she rolled her eyes playfully at him, though her smile widened in response.

'Cause we're standing on the edge of great

(On the edge of great) On the edge of great

(Great, on the edge of great) On the edge

(Great, on the edge of great)

'Cause we're standing on the edge of...

Julie went back to her keyboard and slipped her mic into the holder, Luke went over and looked her in the eyes as they sang to each other. The chemistry was off the charts!

Running from the past

Tripping on the now

What is lost can be found, it's obvious

When they finished and the boys disappeared Cal just sat there speechless, Y/N pushed his shoulder before giving them a standing ovation. “That was amazing!” She turned to Cal who was still seated, now thinking over what he just watched, “Oh come on, stand up, clap, stop pretending to be professional we both know you’re not! Book the band and we’ll have them for our last set, we’ll go out with a bang.” Cal still looked unsure, “I don’t know, what if-“ “Okay, no.” Y/N turned to Julie, “You’re our last performance on Friday. We have rehearsals every other day to check up on you, if you let me know where we can do it at a place of your choice. Your soundcheck will be at 2pm on Friday. Don’t miss it. Once again, you’re our closing act so you’re welcome to stay or go at any time between you soundcheck and your performance. We’ll let you know your performance time when we figure out the rest of the performance schedule. Thank you guys for coming, it was amazing, you’re definitely going places.”

Cal stared at her, his jaw slack in surprise, until he shook himself out of it and stood up, going to ask Y/N what she was doing, “What- you can’t just- we need to think about this.” She turned to him and deadpanned, “We both know you were gonna book them anyway, I’m doing you a favour, even you couldn’t help but smile.” Y/N turned back to the group, “Once again, thank you for coming. Ask the front desk for my info, give me a call by tomorrow to sort out a rehearsal time and space.”

Julie smiled widely, her chest starting to warm with a familiar jittery feeling of excitement, “Thank you! Thank you so much! I’ll definitely let you know as soon as I can.” Y/N laughed, “Don’t sweat it, someone needs to make decisions for Cal when he goes brain dead.”

“Hey! I’m still your boss!”

“I might as well be yours at this point” She shouted back without turning her head, causing a chuckle from Julie. She tried not to acknowledge the boys because if what they were saying was true, it seemed to be looking that way, she didn’t want to appear clinically insane to the public eye.

The boys themselves, however, didn’t really have much to add to the interaction. They were just standing there, slightly shocked by how assertive Y/N was when she was passionate about something. Reggie just stared at her, a slight smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, we still have some more performances to listen to but it was great meeting you and I guess you’re our final act now so welcome, whilst you’re with us you are our family so relax. As you can see, our dynamic isn’t the most professional so rules aren’t always completely followed to the letter.” Cal joined them, a smile back on his face. He put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder and they smiled at each other, “This one over here basically runs the place so go to her for anything and everything. I can’t wait to see your performance, good luck.” He turned and walked out into the ‘waiting area’ to find the next performer

“Well, it’s been a blast, I’ll see you next time.” Julie smiled at Y/N and then the boys poofed out, making Y/N jump and stare at the empty space left behind, “I’m not even going to ask…oh! Also, please tell leather boy to stop staring at me, or at least ask why?”

“Oh, sure, I’ll ask him what’s up. I’ll call you as soon as I can, see you soon.”

“Goodbyyyeee!”

---

Taglist:

@hereforthejatp​

@slutforjjmaybank​

@morganayennefertyrell

[lollytea]

Fearless (part 1/3)

(Ty/Louie fairytale au fic. i am simply a bitch writing about my au and my oc so it is all very catered to me personally and im aware not a lot of ppl will read it. but if you DO read it, i love u so much. i guess tw for blood/serious injuries relating to teen characters. nothing too graphic but be warned. Also if you’re curious, info on the au here, here and here.)

_________________________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 6:19PM] The sky was bleeding pink and orange and Louie tried to focus on it. Didn't take much brainpower to appreciate a sunset. He clung to the sight with desperation, muttering the simplest thoughts under his breath like a mantra.

It was pretty. He liked sunsets. He liked pink. He liked orange. The distraction wasn't working. The unpleasantness that was already writhing in his stomach churned. His finger was on his temple, idly tracing delicate circles against the tightly wrapped bandage. His head hurt. The point where his shoulder met his upper arm was also dressed. The stitching still had to heal up. That hurt too. Louie was pretty stupid. Which was not something he usually thought. But it was a real kick in the confidence when someone sharp-witted did something stupid. And it was a real kick in the heart when someone who didn't wanna hurt anybody ended up hurting somebody. This was stupid. He had already tried reading as a means of distraction. Too hard. Too many words. Way too much of a strain on his mild concussion. This was so, so stupid. Sitting by his windowsill, he hoped this dumb bandage would be gone soon. His forehead felt sticky and damp with sweat. He was stupid. He wished Webby were here. If she were, she'd be in the courtyard below his window sparring with Dewey. At least then, Louie could watch and keep his mind occupied. No. No, that wasn't right. If Webby were here, she would've attached herself to Louie by now, hugging him tight until his injury healed. If it had been any other incident, Louie would let her, crumbling into her arms and whimpering about the pain as his amazing, magical sister made it all ebb away. But this wasn't any other incident. If Webby were here, he wouldn't be able to accept her hugs. The very idea rubbed him the wrong way. If anyone was entitled to healing hugs, it wasn't Louie, it was--.... His face twisted up. Webby wasn't here. She was off on some quest with Lena. Probably wouldn't be back for days. So there was no point in dwelling over hypotheticals. Louie would heal on his own. They were both gonna have to heal on their own. The sunset was fading.

It was pretty. Pink... Orange.... He couldn't do this. 

Why was he doing this?! Louie always knew himself to be a coward but this was to a pathetic extent. Depraved even. He felt sick. 

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Every additional second he spent hiding in his room was weighing him down. It was suffocating. But he couldn't leave. He was too scared.

Freezing up just like always. Just stop being so fucking scared! He would have to confront what he did eventually. There was no way around it. So, why couldn't he just go now? Louie had far worse things in his life to be dreading. Far worse. A ticking clock of trepidation was seated deep inside him. A predestined future he couldn't rewrite which, on all accounts, should render him paralyzed. But he wasn't. This was the sort of thing to demolish him. Apparently. Stupid. This shouldn't be overdriving his other senses. This shouldn't be flooding his mind. He shouldn't be drowning right now. This shouldn't have his hands shaking. This shouldn't have him pacing the length of his room. This shouldn't be stealing the oxygen from his lungs. His brain was pounding against his skull, protesting his rapid back-and-forth movement. He was dizzy. He shouldn't be crying. Fuck it! He was always crying, who cares about that?! Just stop panicking, just stop crying, just stop being so selfish for once and just own up. Louie's back crashed against his door, gasping for breath. Stars were blotting his vision and he couldn't breathe and it was the end of the world. Okay. Okay. He was spiraling again. That was all it was, it would be okay. It would be okay. The prince's bed chambers, alive with the choking sound of contained distress, subsided to complete silence for just a moment. Inhale. Exhale. And then all to be heard was a small, crackling voice straining to sing himself a quiet little lullaby. ___________ [OCTOBER 22ND, 10:07AM] "Your highness, don't be an idiot. You can't just---Hey! Wait up!" "H'oh boy..." Louie's eyes flicked to the high heavens. Right now he felt like he was tasked with personally escorting this goddamn boy across this goddamn forest by the goddamn ankles. He whirled around impatiently, crossing his arms with a flourish. "Pick up the pace, Tiberius. We don't have all day." "Can you maybe not be a huge pain for like... I dunno, five minutes?" Snapped Ty, his dearly devoted retainer and most notorious pain-in-the-tail. "Can you maybe loosen up? Y'know it's a real mood killer when there's a paranoid guy on my case all the time, insisting that the whole world is out to get me. Being constantly reminded of my fragile mortality? Woo, talk about fun times." Scowling, Ty stumbled his way over a protruding tree root. "You've got a bad habit of attracting danger, you know that, right? I'm pretty sure it's a Duck thing." The remark slapped the annoyed expression right off Louie's face. Ty quirked an eyebrow. "What's that look for?" Before he could further analyse, Louie sharply turned on his heel and strode on. "It's a Duck thing." He said, keeping his tone even. Both of them knew it was a Duck thing. Ty just didn't know the half of it. "Your highness," He heard Ty gripe. "You know this is a bad idea. A prince shouldn't be out in the open like this without proper protection. And I'm unprepared right now. I can't--" If Ty weren't yakking so much, Louie wouldn't know if he was still there. He wasn't wearing his armor for once so the familiar clank and clatter of metal was nonexistent. "You got your sword, right? You can do a lot of damage with that thing." "Yeah but no juice. And I need juice. See, 'cause what if we get in a tight spot and you--?" "What do you think is gonna happen, Ty?! For the love of all that is gold, It's just a party." "It's never just anything." He grumbled. Ty jogged ahead a little, matching his pace to Louie's. His footsteps alongside him were purposefully heavy So, he was stomping now. Real mature. Louie rolled his eyes. He was fully aware Ty was pissed, he didn't have to go above and beyond to make his anger known. "You really think I'm an idiot who doesn't take safety precautions? I'll have you know keeping Prince Louie alive isn't just your problem. Prince Louie is pretty serious about that too." He gestured to himself. "If you haven't noticed, I'm incognito today. I've got no crown, no mantle, no status whatsoever. And look at these ugly peasant threads," Louie pointed out, tugging at the hem of his dull green tunic. "It's actually kinda depressing how drab I look. I'm never gonna do this again actually. But! See how committed I am right now? Who's gonna recognize me? As we're all aware, I'm pretty well known for my pizzazz." "Just 'cause you stop being a prince doesn't mean danger stops existing." "No but it makes you way less of a target. Now, are you really gonna spend your whole day off bitching at me?" 

The glare Ty shot him was petulant at best. "Well, I didn't wanna. But I got dragged along on this little adventure so guess I gotta." Louie pursed his beak, irritated. He did not drag Ty along anywhere. 

"Come to think of it, I don't remember saying you had to follow me." Well, that came out as harsher than intended. Ty didn't seem hurt. At least, there was no sign that he was. No expression cracked his stone mask. "I've got a duty." Louie scoffed. Ty and his stupid duty. It was really starting to wear on his nerves. But not today, absolutely not today. On this fine, glorious day, Louie was intent on having fun. He would show up at this little forest shindig and he would drink and dance and schmooze and whatever else any carefree person at a party would do. He would forget about everything that was eating at him. He wasn't gonna let it consume him, he wasn't. He was gonna live. While he still could. His sixteenth birthday loomed closer. Six months left. "Sorry." Said Ty, unprompted. The shadows festering in Louie's head cleared out as he snapped back to the present. Ty had his eyes firmly downcast, a noticeable slump to his posture. "It's not like I wanna be running around killing the fun all the time. I really don't. But I gotta." Louie said nothing. His eyebrows rose in quiet astonishment as he studied Ty's side profile. He remembered when Ty first came into his life. Twelve years old, brandishing a sword too big for his body and grinning lopsidedly in an unmistakably trouble seeking sorta way. A real firecracker of a boy, loud and bright. Hungry for adventure and excited to throw himself head first into the action. He remembered one of Ty's earliest and most confident statements. When he lowered himself to bow to Louie in his uncle's throne room and declared that the prince would never fear for his life again. Because Ty would protect him and Ty was fearless. Louie believed him. Make no mistake, Ty had plenty of bite back then too. He had disliked Louie and the feeling had been mutual. But he never doubted that Ty had spoken the truth with his entire heart. Ty was fearless. When Louie was with Ty, he was safe. He believed that and he always had. Despite how they clicked as well as a dagger and a keyhole. Despite Ty being annoying. So annoying. He was still annoying. But it was different now. Louie couldn't pinpoint when that permanent glowing smile of his had dwindled and a thin frown had become Ty's default expression. His sword, something he always used to proudly haul around over his shoulder, now unceremoniously sheathed against his belt. Although Louie had noticed that his right hand never strayed too far from the hilt.   Protecting royalty with your entire being was an all-consuming duty and it seemed, at some point, the reality of such an allegiance had slapped Ty across the face. He had this distinct way of holding himself now. Always stood straight and rigid, coiled up with agitation. He was prepared to fight at a moment's notice but it was clear the thrill of doing so had been long since drained out of him. He still smiled. He still laughed. But only sometimes. Ty was annoying because he was paranoid. Because he was snarky. Because he was too stiff, too protective. And man, what Louie wouldn't give to have Ty's former brand of annoying back. At least never made him feel sorry for the guy. "Can I ask you a favor?" Louie finally spoke, pushing back a drooping tree branch so they could walk below it "You can try." Ty shrugged, his gaze still fixed ahead. "What if we just turn off this whole 'Prince and Retainer' thing today. Whadd'ya think?" He turned to him blankly, complete with a slight tilt of the head that made Louie a tiny bit weak. "Wha....?" Ty was simply not computing. He looked as though Louie was throwing out algebra equations and he was supposed to solve them right on the spot. And he was not a math guy by any means. The cute clueless expression was making it a little hard to focus. Louie swallowed. "Listen." He began, his thumb dragging itself across his sweaty palm as he struggled with how to phrase this. Louie had a way with words, always had. But he had a tendency to trip over his own tongue when Ty was involved. Especially when Ty was staring at him with his soft cande-light eyes and doing that stupid adorable head tilting thing and-- "You need a break." Louie blurted out. "You're stressed like constantly and it's getting kinda insufferable and I think your Dad would sick a dragon on me if his barely fifteen year old son suddenly kicked it 'cause of a paranoia overload so I think you should just forget about being my big strong hero for today and come hang out with me at this stupid peasant party and we can just be two regular kids instead of a royal and his bodyguard do you think you could give me that Tiberius?" It was only in the following beat of silence that Louie realized how fast he spat that all out. He struggled to catch his breath. One second. Ty blinked. Two seconds. A flicker of vacant eyes and then a rush of realization. And then disbelief. And then-- Three seconds. His brow scrunched together and a snarl crinkled his muzzle. His eyes flared. Oh, he was mad.... "Are you crazy?!" Ty shouted. He was beside himself with a malfunctioning mix of fury and incredulity that had him stammering his words. "You-You can't just--.....D-do you even-- you don't...do you realize how disrespectful that is? For you to say it? For-For me to do it?! I was given this duty by the King! The fucking King! To just suddenly "turn it off" would be--....I can't--!" Maybe "mad" was an understatement. "Ty--" Louie tried. He was cutting across Louie, treading back and forth on their forest path,. Not going further, not going back. Just walking to nowhere for the sake of being too scandalized to possibly stand still. Louie was attempting to get Ty's attention by grabbing his tunic but he kept shaking him off. "I'd be a disgrace! An embarrassment! I'm trusted by the royal family to keep--...to keep you safe! I-I can't just walk around with my liege like I'm on vacation and not be on guard! You don't even get it, you--" "Ty!" Louie said loudly."You wanna maybe listen for a sec?!" Frankly, he was surprised Ty halted his tirade. His eyes were blown wide, stunned and Louie wasn't quite sure why until he followed Ty's look, snapping down. Seems in his effort to get a hold of the guy, he had instinctively reached out and snatched Ty's wrist. They stood frozen for a moment, each set of eyes boring into the touch that tied them together. Louie's fingers began to uncurl. Then he decided no. His grip on Ty tightened with a purposeful squeeze. Ty met his gaze, looking....panicked? Confused? Didn't matter. He could besottedly dissect his unreadable facial expressions later. Louie inhaled, deciding to shoulder his dignity for just a second. No safety rails of snark this time. Ty might make fun of him for being sincere later but this was important. "Don't you miss being a kid with nothing to worry about?" Louie implored. "Because if we're being real, I don't think we're ever gonna get to live like that again." Ty muttered something to himself, shaking his head a little. "But listen," Louie continued, taking a step into Ty's personal bubble. Ty took an automatic step back. But since he was still holding his hand, Louie was led a step forward. It was difficult to tell with the pink fur but he could've sworn Ty reddened. "Look I know it's weird for me to be asking but....can't we just take a risk today? It's just a party in the woods. Literally the least likely place to find any danger in the whole kingdom." "We shouldn't--" "Ty, please." Honestly, Louie was a little surprised at himself. He hadn't even planned for Ty to accompany him anyway. But in the heat of the moment, everything had shifted upside-down. Turns out there was something inside him willing to beg. Something that wanted more than anything, for Ty come along. He just wanted a simple memory of just killing time with Ty. Separated from the castle and everything that reminded him of his fate. He would like to smile without a hint of dread for once this year. So, he said just that. "I'm not just trying to make you come along 'cause I'm stuck with you. That's not it." He swallowed. "You're--....you're cool. You're fun. I wanna have you around. You know, when you're not so worked up and you're just being yourself, I like hanging out with you." He tugged Ty's hand a little. Further from his sword and closer to Louie. "I want you to come with me. And I want you to try having fun too." He may as well just tell the idiot he thought about him every time he saw a sunset. The hand he was grasping flexed its fingers. Ty abruptly broke eye contact and glanced to the side, his tongue poking out to pierce the tip of his jagged tooth. His indecisive face. "I just--.....I dunno...." He muttered. "If something happened to you--" "Nothing's gonna happen to me." Said Louie immediately. "I've got a good feeling about this. And c'mon Ty, that coming from a coward?" "You're not a coward." He said, barely a whisper. He was now staring at the ground. "I promise." "Huh?" Louie smiled tightly as Ty looked to him questionably. "I promise nothing is gonna happen. I'm gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. Now, can you do me this favor and maybe, I dunno, trust me?" The look Ty gave him was a little sad, but it was soft. And then with only a tiny twitch, it shifted into something else entirely. It was trust. Blind trust. Maybe stupid trust. A minuscule pang of guilt jabbed at Louie. Of course he wanted Ty to trust him. He needed him to if there was any hope of achieving his goal here. But objectively, he really shouldn't. Louie was hiding way too much from him. It wasn't fair. Then Ty broke the world, shattered orbit and played around with reality itself by cracking a smile and Louie forgot every coherent thought he ever possessed. He would never put on record just how long he spent pre-preparing jokes, gunning to get the corner of Ty's lips to flick upwards. Made him seem kinda desperate. Which he was not. Ty had that oh, so stereotypical "cute boy" smile. It was crooked, cocky, it was utterly obnoxious. Louie hated it. And worst of all, it was like a little spell to kick Louie's heart into high speed. Sometimes it dazed and confused him like a blinding light flash. But other times, it was warm and if he stared long enough, he'd fall asleep. Louie loved Ty's smile. Every time he tried to convince himself he didn't, he ended up dwelling on it too much and the way his mouth would quirk up would play in his mind on a maddening loop and then it would be too much to handle and the truth that he loved it would always overpower him. So, whenever that happened (like right this second.) he gave up and admitted it. To himself, anyway. He loved Ty's smile. He loved Ty. ......Wait. That last part was new, hold up. Rewind. But he didn't get the chance because Ty was talking now. Still a little dazzled, Louie didn't catch what he said but he figured it was good since he was still smiling. And then that smile broke into a huge grin, his eyes flashed with trouble and his hands were on Louie's shoulders and-- "Race ya!" Ty cried. With a light push, Louie was stumbling backwards and Ty kicked off into a sprint. For a brief moment, Louie could only gaze after him, stupefied. Love, huh? Like the real deal? That was crazy. But then he snapped out of as he recalled the audacity of this bastard. "You just pushed your liege!" He shrieked, receiving a loud "WOO!" from Ty as a response. And then Louie was grinning. He was giddy. He didn't quite know if he forgot about love in that instance or if it was the force powering him but he was tearing off after Ty, yelling about the latter's totally unfair head start. In hindsight, he should've figured it was love a long time ago. Who else would get him to run for no reason?

[adorethedistance]

Encompassed by You - JJ Maybank x Reader

Requested by @obx-beach​ : “so I love your writing and once you get a chance you should most definitely write a jj maybank x reader soulmate au. I was reading a bunch but have run out and think that you're writing would go well with it!💕 just a thought❤”

Warnings: 1 fuck. That’s it, this is so pg.

Words: 1159 

The luxury of being a kook would mean I work a part time job for a little extra cash, and not to put myself through college since my parents can’t afford all the expenses.

So here I am, the summer before Junior year, finding myself blending apples and juicing lemons, and scrubbing the countertops of a smoothie shop off of figure 8. Don’t be fooled though, working for a dollar above minimum wage isn’t as luxurious as it sounds. I’ve barely reached $3,000. That’s at least textbooks, right?

“Rhoda, I’m not gonna find my soulmate in high school. Do you know how rare that is?” I say to my coworker as I scrub harder on a spot of dried honey.

“My parents met in high school!”

“Well, I’m not your parents,” shrugging sarcastically, I slap the counter with my damp rag. She looks up, unamused, from the spot in front of the counter that she’s mopping.

“All I’m saying is, it’s not impossible.” Rhoda was lucky enough to meet her soulmate last week at the ripe age of 20. I think my parents met at 28, and the average meet-cute age is 27 according to google, so Rhoda got really lucky. I hope I’m just as lucky.

“So what was his symbol?” I ask. Lifting her sleeve, she reveals a blank musical staff that is sitting slightly under her right palm.

“It was seven notes to a melody of the song that was playing when I saw him at the party!” She gushes recalling the night fondly. On a closer look, I can see the time signature reads 6/8 and it sits in the key of E flat.

“That’s seems like it would be an oddly common combination--sheet music--what was the song?”

“Flicker by Niall Horan! Isn’t that just precious?” she says caressing her soulmark in awe.

Glancing down at my own soulmark, the tiny compass frame sits open, sits empty. The center is blank, perfectly framing the ordinary skin of my wrist; the needle and cardinal directions are nowhere to be found. Its position is identical to the image I had 15 minutes ago. Identical to the image I had 15 years ago.

“What if I just never find him? What if my soulmate is halfway across the world, and he doesn’t speak English and he doesn’t have the money to travel to the freakin’ outer banks of all places.”

“Aw, cheer up, buttercup. You’re gonna find your soulmate one day, I promise.” Rhoda’s smile is unfairly contagious and mysteriously always brightens my day. “Who knows, he could be the king of a country- and you could become even more of a queen than you already are!” She cheers. Always looking on the bright side.

When Rhoda finishes her little spiel of excitement, the brass bell above the door rings signifying a new customer. Looking up from the last of the counter-honey residue, I see JJ Maybank. We were table partners for the first week of freshman year environmental science before he was moved to sit directly by the teacher’s desk. Other than that we haven’t really talked ever, which I realize was a mistake, seeing as puberty has done him extremely well.

His blond hair is permanently disheveled, making him resemble Sonic the Hedgehog in the best way. His blue eyes are strikingly contrasted with his sun-kissed skin, no doubt a result from all the time he spends on the open water.

“Oh, I’m sorry we’re closed for the night.” Rhoda looks at me like I’m crazy before stepping in,

“It’s fine, sugar. We can make an exception. What can I get you?” Stepping behind the counter, she logs into her POS and takes down his order. He asks for a medium ‘ocean breeze’ which is coconut water, piña colada syrup, ice, and mango juice concentrate. A fairly simple drink for its price.

As she gives him his total, I turn around to make the drink but I’m stopped by Rhoda grabbing my arm. She gives me a look before suggestively glancing between me and JJ. He doesn’t notice because he’s taking out his wallet-thank god.

She lets go of me and mouths ‘talk to him’ before not-so-subtly throwing me forward towards the register. Then, she heads to the back to grab the ingredients from the fridge and begin preparing the drink. ‘Just because we have destined soulmates doesn’t mean I can’t date around for fun’ was Rhoda’s mantra for the first month and a half that I started working here. College boys are a challenge that slowly changed her mantra over time, but it was still enthusiastically enforced on my life because I ‘don’t have to deal with college boys yet’.

“Uh, 4.09,” I mutter as he hands me a $5 bill. I practically avoid eye contact as I double count the change and hand it to him.

As I reach my right hand forward, I place the change in his left. Our hands brush gently which makes my face heat to 1000 degrees. Why am I so awkward? Pulling my hand back to close the register, JJ’s right hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. The action scares me and I gasp lightly due to fright.

With furrowed brows and wide eyes, I look up to see JJ staring at my wrist. Specifically, at my soulmark. Studying it without a trace of emotion. Following his gaze, it leads to my wrist in his calloused hand. He then hesitantly releases my right arm, and uses the offending hand to pull up the long, white sleeve that covers his own wrist. JJ is probably moving at a normal pace but the tension he’s exuding makes his movements feel like time has slowed to ¼ of it’s normal speed.

He places his left wrist next to my right, connecting them like puzzle pieces. His skin is hot against my cooled arm that hasn’t yet fully recovered from reorganizing the fridge 15 minutes ago.

“What the fuck,” I whisper in disbelief.

JJ’s arm parallel to mine allows me to see his soulmark, as clear as day:

A needle, surrounded by the different markings of the cardinal directions, pointed directly at me in stagnant accusation.

I look up to meet JJ’s crystal blue eyes. He looks calm, at rest, until he sees my shock-consumed expression. His face barely morphs into something like confusion at best. My lips are parted slightly as a remnant of my surprise, but his face does not waver. Neither of us will to speak.

“Alright, we’ve got one ocean bree-” My head snaps to look at Rhoda. When I see her, her jaw is slack on the floor and her eyes are practically bulged out of her skull. She rapidly looks back and forth between my face, our paralleled wrists, and his face.

“Holy shit!” She squeaks nearly dropping the drink. JJ laughs in disbelief as he looks back down to our corresponding soulmarks,

“Fuck man.”

__________________________

A/n: while I love soulmate AU’s this is probably only going to be a 2 or 3 part series just cause I’m focusing my efforts toward YFNS primarily. However, I don’t see why this couldn’t develop into a full series once YFNS is no longer my primary fic. Who knows wtf will happen in the future?

[liusaidh-writing]

Call it True - Chapter One

 Claire and Jamie are neighbors - though they’ve never met.  Claire, infatuated with her Scot upstairs, is more than a little certain that it’ll never happen. Is she wrong?  

Prefer to read at AO3? 

Hope you all enjoy this...I really wish I could say I’d update on a regular day weekly, but as of right now I don’t get much time to write. So please be patient!  

**I’d like to thank (profusely) @faithperry46  for being my life-saver/beta reader.  I wouldn’t/couldn’t have done this without your help!**

Here we go...

-----          

Claire chuckled to herself, hearing the vacuum come on downstairs again. Every morning, without fail, the older lady who lived downstairs turned it on...to hoover her back patio. Living on the first floor, she was granted a small back garden - one Claire was envious of. Though she didn't think she'd do much but sweep her patio with a broom.  

Claire pushed open her kitchen window and held her breath, wondering if he'd be here at his window today. Claire figured this was her favorite way to start her days: a small chat with her mysterious, yet lovely -and stupidly handsome,- neighbor, Jamie. 

Claire hid a grin when she spotted his curly auburn hair. 

"Poor woman. Shall we buy her a broom for Christmas?" He joked, greeting Claire with his unassuming smile. He gave her a wink - if it 

could be called that, seeing as he couldn't wink correctly but instead closed both eyes in a humorous attempt.  

Claire smiled properly this time, calling to him as she rested her elbows on the window sill. 

"She's going to break that thing soon enough. I'll get the dustpan if you'll get the broom?" she offered with a laugh. It was only May, but who was Claire to say it was too early to start Christmas shopping? Especially if she could do it with Jamie.

"It's a deal. We can present it to her together." Jamie smiled at her, and Claire as per usual, panicked, swatted her face with her hands while mumbling something about a bug before excusing herself. 

"I've got to run just now, but we can work out the details later. See you soon!" 

She shut her window as she heard him respond with a friendly 'Have a good day, Claire!' 

She didn't truly need to be anywhere for another half hour - her shift at the hospital started an hour from now, but she just couldn't talk to him for long. She'd get all flustered, and was terrified she'd say something completely stupid and ruin what they had. Claire had never met the man in the flesh, but she was completely enamored with him...or his face rather, since that was all she could see from her window.  

She loved his stupid wink, his big smile that nearly met his slanted eyes as he greeted her when they saw one another. She had no idea if he lived alone, but she was certain that someone that handsome had to have a girlfriend at the very least. Or a boyfriend, perhaps. He certainly had no need of anything more from her than a quick morning chat... or else it would've happened already - that's what she told herself six months into their weird connection. Her erratic schedule at the hospital kept her from seeing him every morning and explained why they'd never met in person. 

Their relationship never ventured much further than chatting about their mutual source of amusement: their elderly neighbor with the hoovering obsession. They chatted here and there about happenings in their respective days: 'You got a haircut!' She'd say, noticing his hair was slightly shorter. He'd nod, pretend to preen, and run his hands through his hair with a laugh. 

He had no idea what that did to Claire. She was sure her cheeks went pink whenever he was even slightly flirty. She'd lose the ability to concentrate, to speak, so she'd excuse herself in some clumsy way and go about her day with him swimming around in her imagination. She'd fantasize about knocking on his door, asking him for coffee, laughing over a shared joke that didn't have to do with their neighbor, Jamie kissing her dumb as his hands roamed her back for her bra strap... 

Sometimes she got carried away.

---

Claire got to work, noticing that her favorite co-worker, Lesley, was already there. Claire saw Lesley's toddler's car seat in the back, knowing it hadn't been a fun morning at her house. Lesley had a two-year-old son named Harry who Claire enjoyed, but Lesley's ex-husband Frank wasn't always in a helpful mood. So, this morning -like a lot of mornings,- the two-year-old was brought to the hospital child care center instead of staying home with his father.  

Claire sighed, shaking her head on Lesley’s behalf. Claire remembered when she’d gotten married to Frank and when she’d had her son - Lesley had thought she had it all. "But look," Claire thought, "it all fell apart at her feet shortly after it began." 

"I’m better off by myself. Only me to worry about.” It was her mantra of sorts, and Claire had convinced herself it was true. 

She got to her floor, put her stuff in her locker, and slowly shuffled to her station as she wondered what her day would bring. Lesley was there, as expected, riffling through some files as she smiled at Claire in greeting. Lesley was slightly shorter than Claire, with medium-length blonde hair Claire was sure wasn’t entirely natural. Lesley’s down-to-earth demeanor and penchant for keeping Claire grounded in reality was, unbeknownst to Claire, her saving grace during the work day, and though Lesley had had a rough go of it with Frank, she remained, for the most part upbeat - something Claire struggled with at times. Always there to lend an ear, Lesley was invaluable to Claire, and she was happy to return the favor whenever possible.

“Here you go, Lady.” Lesley said as she handed Claire a bright red folder with a name Claire couldn’t read on the side. “New admittance - a 72-year-old woman had a stroke and is in for observation.” 

Claire worked on the cardiac floor and enjoyed it... for the most part. The majority of her patients were older men and women, and she found them easy to talk to. She knew she could offer them some comfort and help during their stay.  

Grabbing the folder, she headed to her first room and started her day. 

---

Claire’s lunch left much to be desired - leftover Chinese food that had Lesley crinkling her nose. 

“How old is that, Claire?”

“I'm not sure. A few days…” 

“It doesn’t smell right.” 

Claire watched as Lesley’s mouth formed a frown. Lesley had her own lunch - a fresh salad with grilled chicken and cashews. 

“We can’t all be chefs, Lesley,” Claire said as she took a bite of her Kung Pao chicken. She made a face, struggling to swallow. Perhaps she should’ve thrown it out - but it was all she’d had to bring today.

“You live alone, Claire - you can cook all you want! I have to make my lunches once Harry has gone down for the night. After folding all of the laundry and scarfing down what’s left of dinner.” Lesley took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly as Claire shook her head. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said quietly, pushing her fried rice around with her fork. “I could cook, I suppose,” she continued, thinking about the ingredients in her refrigerator. Those consisted of a block of parmesan cheese, a bottle of orange juice, and a small pint of milk. “I could make...well, not much at the moment, but…” Claire, wanting to change the subject from her nonexistent domesticity, decided to bring up Jamie.

“I think he must have a girlfriend,” Claire said, deciding to throw her lunch out and buy some peanut butter crackers from the vending machine. As she fished for some coins in her purse, she continued. “I mean, he’s gorgeous...surely he’s taken. You know I have no luck, Lesley.”  

“Well, Claire,” Lesley began, sounding unsure about her next statement. “Do you...try?” 

Grabbing her crackers from the slot at the bottom of the vending machine, Claire whirled around, brows knitted and mouth in a scowl. 

“I do try,” she said, opening the crackers and stuffing one in her mouth. “I just figure he’s not worth my time,” she mumbled, spraying crumbs over her shirt. She brushed them off, shrugging. 

Lesley rolled her eyes, then set them on Claire, giving her a pitying, yet frustrated look. “You don’t know anything, Jon Snow.”

“It’s ‘You know nothing…’” Claire corrected, ignoring her comment. “Look how it worked out with Frank. You’re not exactly a great example of romance gone right.” Claire felt somewhat guilty when she saw Lesley’s face fall for a second, but the conversation was cut short by the clock. Time to get back to work.

“Just give it a go, Claire - the worst that could happen is that he is involved with someone else. You don’t know unless you ask.” Lesley gave her parting advice before they headed out of the lunchroom. 

Claire believed that the idea of knocking on his door and asking him about his relationship status was a little too much to ask of her. She’d talked to him - flirted even, and still...nothing. Nothing good could come of her asking him out, she decided. Only mortal embarrassment, and the unfortunate circumstance of having to live under someone who’d turned her down. No, thank you. 

Claire managed to push down all her thoughts about Jamie and get through her shift, and was relieved to plop down on the bus seat that would take her home.

Getting home, she eyed Jamie’s door, craning her neck in the stairwell to get a glimpse of the bright red door identical to her own, except he lived at 3C, she at 2C. 

"No sign of life," she sighed, hitching her purse and bag higher up her shoulder as she made her way to her flat. Her phone buzzed as she went in, tossing her bags on the entry table and reaching to dig into the depths of her purse for the offending object. She didn’t want to answer it, but she saw it was Lesley, so she swiped up, putting it to her ear with some trepidation.

"Please don’t ask me to babysit. Please, please," she begged silently as she heard Lesley begin to talk. She didn’t not like Harry. He was an adorable child and didn’t cause much trouble when he was here, but she had been looking forward to a much-needed day off work, and babysitting a toddler hadn’t been at the top of her agenda.

"…so anyway, I know it’s your day off,” Lesley said, and Claire groaned inwardly, covering the phone with her left hand. “But I’m just stuck, and I thought...maybe you’d help me out?” 

Claire gave a pained smile, even though Lesley couldn’t see her, rubbing her hand through her hair as she sighed. 

“Sure, Lesley, you know I will. It’s no trouble. Just drop him by in the morning.” 

Claire hung up, trying not to feel irritated by the prospect of watching a two-year-old all day. She had no plans, really, except to vegetate in front of the television, devouring Netflix true crime shows. But it sounded so good. Pizza delivery, maybe pull out her untouched bottle of whisky from some Christmas past...

"Oh well, she thought, I’ll just get through it. I’ll have another day off eventually." She thought. It then registered that she was due to work some night shifts coming up. "Oh... fun," she groaned to her empty apartment.  

Claire glanced at her ceiling when she heard footsteps upstairs. Jamie was home. What was he doing tonight, she wondered. Was his girlfriend over? Did he have a date, or was he, too, looking at an evening of solitary drinking?

Claire nearly jumped out of her skin when her doorbell rang. She shuffled to the door, warily looking through the peephole. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. 

Puzzled, she saw a young teenager standing there holding a plastic bag, marked with a local restaurant’s logo. He wore a bright red hat, had more zits than craters on the moon, and he bore a scowl. Slowly, Claire opened the door, knowing she hadn’t ordered anything.

“Did you order this, lady?” the kid spat, holding the bag out to her, desperate to unload his delivery and get out of there. 

“Er...no...What’s the address?” 

“I don’t know, It’s smudged. I’m just...working my way around.” The kid shrugged, still holding out the bag.

“Well...I didn’t order it. Sorry. Try upstairs. Above me, perhaps? I know my neighbor just got home.” 

The kid sighed, drawing the bag away from Claire. He didn’t say anything, but slowly turned around and, swinging the bag around in a wide arc, growled as he started to make his way up the stairway. Claire waited at her door, hearing the delivery attempt upstairs. 

Hearing Jamie’s voice, she put her face in her palm, frustrated with herself. She could’ve made that delivery. She could’ve been standing in front of him now, complete with food. They could’ve eaten dinner together, watched a movie, somehow become entangled on his bed… 

Shut up, Beauchamp! 

She grabbed her phone, dialed to order a pizza, and slumped on the couch, resigned to her fate as a spinster, alone in front of Murder by Numbers for yet another evening. She folded her arms, brows knit, imagining Jamie upstairs with the girl he definitely had over. Why couldn’t she be hopelessly in love with someone at work, someone she saw every day? Someone she’d seen the bottom half of? That would make it easier. She always imagined Jamie as being about her height, but she could tell just from what she’d seen of his arms that he worked out. When he wore the sleeveless t-shirts, she always marveled at his biceps and had recurring dreams about them draped around her waist. 

She also knew he was a Scot, a transplant from somewhere north. She wondered if he ever wore a kilt because she figured she’d pay good money to see it. Oh, she was pathetic, she knew, but she didn’t care when she was alone in her thoughts. She wondered if it would do her good to get a cat. Perhaps then she wouldn’t do so much daydreaming. Surely it wasn’t healthy.

[seaswalllow]

timore. 

i. onomatophobia.

tw for canon-typical events of KJSE, blood, violence, threats.

--

your name is jack mcloughlin. you are 12 when the mirror twists, and smiles at you. you have a shadow that glares at you. you are 13 and a month when it leans through, and finally talks to you. its words grate like nails on a chalkboard. you are 14 when it smiles and tells you what you will dream about, bloody and bright. you are 14 when you name it. 

--

anti’s a fuckin’ stupid name. what’s the point, too? it doesn’t make you less afraid. it just means that there’s now a word that tastes like fear. how is that winning? 

it’s not about winning. 

then you’re more of an idiot than i thought. 

--

your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow smiles more than it doesn’t. it’s hard to remember that you’ve named it anti; harder still to believe that something as alien as the shadow that writes in blood on the mirror and leaves ink on the floor has a name as simple as anti. 

--

so what are you?

everything. nothing. fear.

that doesn’t make any sense.

does anything about me make sense to you, little rabbit? the only constant that you know from me is that your heart beats jackrabbit fast against your chest when i whisper in your ears. you can barely even remember what you’ve tried to call me over the screaming in your head. 

...so then you’re just fear.

just? 

you’re fear.

eh. close enough. you’d probably shit a brick if i tried to show you what i mean i am. 

…

do you want me to try? i think i’d like watching you cry scarlet. it’d be more interesting than the saltwater. maybe you’d be able to hear your own blood better.

no. no, i’m okay. 

are you sure? it could be fun. :)

no.

spoilsport. 

if i’m such a spoilsport, why do you stick around?

because you’re funny. 

...funny?

yes. your little names, trying to run your fears off- it’s hilarious.

…

any other questions for the peanut gallery? i think i want to try sanding down that popcorn ceiling. it’ll be funny watching your house jump. 

why did you come to me?

because you were scared. 

what-

no more questions.

--

your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow’s name is anti. you have named it in a hope of familiarizing yourself with the edges of the fear that crop up whenever the wood floors creak under feet that are not your own. you are 18, burning bright and only fueling the flame with no idea of where to turn it to. you’ve stopped looking in mirrors. you are 20, and a camera blinks, and you are 22 when you decide to use it. the shadows only darken behind you, and its- anti’s, you think to yourself- smiles have only stretched wider and sharper. 

you sleep with an eye open, more often than not. 

-- 

can’t keep the light on forever, jackaboy. can’t keep your eyes open through the night. 

...

remember when you first tried to run? when you were fourteen and more scared than you’ve ever been in your life? i do. you should try running like that again; maybe you’ll get farther. better than trying to outlast something eternal. 

why do you remember that?

i remember everything, don’t you know? memories are just electricity wrapped around bits of fat and meat. synapses twisted around each other to trap the lightning. i don’t need the meat, just the lightning. i can show you. it’s very, very painful.

no. i mean why is that the first time? you’ve caught me before, in the trees. 

... 

was it the name?

putting words to a situation doesn’t mean that you understand it any better. just that you can talk about it. 

wipe that fucking look off your face. 

i’m right, aren’t i.

right about what? what does the name do for you, sean? does it soften the brunt of the panic that clots in your lungs whenever the shadows hiss? does it hide the mirrors, does it dull my knife? 

no, i-

shut the fuck up. stop going off about that fucking name like it will protect you. shut up.

--

your shadow’s name is anti. he has teeth sharper than the knife that he traces his fingers around. he is fear, and he is afraid, you find. he is afraid of familiarity, of being stripped of the power that he feeds off of. because that is what the name is; it is giving him a familiar form. defining an idea. when you define an idea, a friend had said, you filter it and paint it with your own biases. it carries a piece of you as much as you carry it.

names have power, the stories said, and you have not considered for a moment how much power they had said. 

--

…

anti?

…

anti, i know you’re there. 

of course you do. i’m always fucking there. you’re always afraid, these days. what changed, little rabbit? if you’re not careful, your heart’s gonna give out.

and you’re never afraid?

that’d be antithetical. fear shouldn’t be afraid. 

you’re not just fear, though, are you? 

how the fuck would you know?

fear wouldn’t try to drive a knife into someone’s eye. 

...oh, cute. did you know that anger, above all else, can be rooted in fear? the fear that you’re going to be the next on the chopping block, the fear that someone else will take what you have, the fear that you’re not the wolf but the lamb to the slaughter? everything circles back to it. love isn’t love, it’s a fear of death, and loss. holding tight because you don’t want it taken away. happiness is just an absence of fear. sadness is the fear that it’ll happen again, that it’ll happen to you. selfishness is-

i get it.

no, i don’t think you do. 

more than you do.

… getting bold, again, jackaboy? 

what do you call yourself?

fear. 

well, that too. but you call yourself my shadow. my mirror. 

i think that i know myself enough to know when my shadow’s afraid that soon, it’s not going to be my shadow, but something else. 

you barely know yourself enough to differentiate between your fear and terror. 

you don’t have to be afraid, you know. 

i’m not. keep pushing and i’ll push this knife into your throat. you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you? you know that our first nightmares together were choking on your blood, feeling iron swell and swell as metal sings under our fingers. my fingers. 

…

i’m not going to change you. 

you couldn’t if you tried. 

anti.. 

shut up!

--

october 31st, you sit in front of a blinking camera, pumpkin in hand, at 10pm. 

at midnight, your lights start to flicker. you know you will have to edit out the part of the footage where you look over your shoulder, heartrate spiking. you will have to edit out where you call anti? there is no reply. he’s talking less, and less. you had once tried stretching your hand out to him; you had to explain to your professor why you had to miss class in order to get stitches for four deep lacerations. what’d you do, try to shake a coyote’s paw? the doctor had laughed. you hadn’t laughed. tried to give company to someone who was lonely, and afraid. the doctor had tutted sympathetically. rescues can be difficult. give them time, space, and understanding. 

something bitter had welled up on your tongue.

--

at 1am, fear drips into your lungs, stealing your breath away. your ears pop. lightning wraps around your nerves, and your fingers move in tandem with anti’s gleeful whisper of mine. are you afraid, jack? do you feel the steel against our neck? one move, and you’ll be painting your pumpkin red.

--

what are you doing stop anti don’t move don’t move-

mine. ours. do you feel alive? afraid? anti stop stop stop not yours never yours-

get out, get out-

-- 

at 1am, your eyes slip shut. your heart jackrabbits and pumps blood onto the carpet under your feet. neurons upon neurons spark, and panic, and dim. 

--

at 6am, your eyes fly open, fluorescent lights harsh above you. a heart monitor spikes, shrill. you cannot hear anti. when you open your mouth to call for someone, a soft whisper escapes your throat. you cannot see anti.

you feel him, for the first time. something angry, and festering, nesting under your heart. your own heart breaks at the same time that it twists with fear. the knot purrs, angry, and stretches. you remember. 

anger can be rooted in fear.

the knot under your heart snarls. 

--

your shadow’s name is anti. when he is afraid, he is cruel. when he is afraid, his knife gleams, and ozone crackles in the air. he drips blood, drips shadows. where you smile, he scowls. where he smiles, you stifle an icy dread building in your gut. he does not talk, anymore, except to screech static into the quiet. he drags the blade of his knife against the ceiling at 3am, drips blood deep into your carpet. 

one night, you wake up to metal caressing your throat, teeth leering above you. 

you scream, memories of lightning stretching through your head and twitching your fingers lighting up, panic burning through your veins. you jerk away. anti smiles, and your roommates burst into an empty room. 

a nightmare, you tell them. their eyes wander to the scar on your throat. you do not turn off the light, that night; you don’t sleep, either. anti makes a sound, for the first time, behind you, and it is to laugh, and laugh into your ear. 

--

i’m done. 

what-

thinking you could name me, twist me- i’ve killed for less-

--

your name is jack mcloughlin. your shadow’s name is anti, and he has stopped speaking and started coming closer, and closer with his knife. he does not reply to you. he has stopped answering questions long ago. you are jack mcloughlin, 24, and you are shutting your eyes against the eyes that drip from his face. you are jack mcloughlin, 24, and there is a knife to your throat for the third time.

--

you are a red-clad hero, standing in a dark house at 3am, in front of a man and a shadow. you do not know who you are; all you know is that you have to protect. 

light flaring on your fists, cutting deep into the dark, you follow the mantra hammered into your head, and drive the shadows into the ground, ink spreading like blood. 

--

your name is jack mcloughlin and you are staring at an apparent superhero in your bedroom. 

--

[sagemoderocklee]

Writer ask meme - everything divisible by 3

Sorry this took so long to reply to! I was writing out my responses today, but while watching Rosewell New Mexico with my roommate and that show is SO good. anyways this is really, really long so I will put part of it under a read more however if you are reading TAoL and want a sneak peak at an upcoming chapter, my answer to 36 is the entire first scene for that chapter

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? Other than the obvious writer's block, I think that my least favorite part is feeling insecure/wanting validation via comments and such. Writing is something I really enjoy doing and take great pride in trying to grow as a writer, but it's impossible to completely shake off that feeling of insecurity and sadness over something that doesn't get comments. There's this common thing in fandom where like you can pour a lot of heart and energy into something, be really skilled, only for it to get overlooked. There's obviously a lot of reasons for that, but some of those reasons are kind of annoying—like god forbid something not have sex in it, ya know?

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

So, that's hard.... If we're talking the canon Naruto characters, it can really vary from story to story. I obviously enjoy writing Gaara and Lee, but I was surprised to find that I really enjoy writing Shikamaru, Kankurou, Temari, Neji, and Tenten as well. I think all of them are really interested, have a lot of potential, and are fun in very different ways. Kankurou is definitely just flat out fun to write, and I think Tenten is very similar in the way she's fun to write. I think this like handful of characters are all faves for very different reasons so it's hard to say who my absolute fave is, but I really enjoy writing all of them. Definitely my fave thing is being able to write all of them interacting together, however.

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Least: Soulmates. I hate that shit with a passion—it's boring, it's artificial, it's easy. There was a post I just saw recently that said “soulmates are stupid. I love you on purpose” and that just sums up so much of my issue with soulmates. If something is predetermined by some fucking cosmic power, do you really ever love that person? Do you really ever know that person? Soulmate AUs will always be something that bore me and also insight anger. It's just not for me, and I wish that fandom spaces would just get over it, in all honesty. Fave: uh. I don’t really know about like trope-wise. I just really like anything with good world building and politics.

12. Which story of yours do you like best? Why? Oh gosh.... um. That's really hard to answer because every story I write has a special place in my heart for different reasons. Alliance is my baby; TAoL is a huge emotional investment and has allowed me to grow even more as a writer; Absolution is something I've always wanted to explore; Flyweight Love is super fun and cute; IEYH is a new experiment in writing for me; GoD was also an experiment... and on and on. It's hard to pick like a favorite story because like they're all my faves in different ways. There are certainly things I like more or prefer, like I'm not that into modern Aus as much so it's easier for me to say that like Find Me isn't a one of my best—it isn't, there's a lot of things I want to fix on it, and while it is a decent fic, it's not like groundbreaking imo. But like for all of the things that need fixing with Alliance, that fic is my baby and really grounded me as a writer in a way no other writing project had before it. So like I could never not love it. Anyways, I'm babbling at this point, but basically I love all my fics so I can't choose.

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing? Rereading my writing tends to help and hoarding some of my favorite comments I've been left by readers. I know I'm a good writer, self-doubt and insecurities aside, so re-reading stuff is really a good confidence booster—but when that's not enough, it is really helpful to look back at old comments.

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

Of mine??? Well, obviously by 'book' we're going with fanfiction because none of my original content is at a point where I'd really even consider it for this question. Um. Honestly, I don't think there's much if anything. Maybe some HP fics but not because I'm not like... proud of the writing or premise. Like I'd say my ideas are really good, it's just a matter of like my own time management and shit.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

My world building. I'm also generally proud of the premises I come up with, and the themes I explore with my writing. Like I think I'm a good writer in terms of the like technical writing aspect—pros and such—and also characters, but I think I excel at world building and overall plot.

24. Do you remember the moment you decided to become a writer/author? The first time I ever wrote anything I was seven years old. I was at a party for my mom's boss? I think it was a birthday party? Anyway, I was the only kid there—which was fine because I was used to being the only kid in gatherings—but I was sitting alone by like a window and I just like started writing a poem about the night. That was like the first time that writing really became a part of me. When I was thirteen, when my mom got sick, I started writing poetry more. And when I was fourteen, I started writing fanficiton and that's kinda just... never stopped. I've been writing stories ever since.

27. Every writer’s least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

My inspiration comes from everywhere, not to like be cliched. But inspiration really is in everything and everyone. I tend to find inspiration really easily in music, but it's also in just like the day-to-day; it's in other writers; it's in washing dishes; it's in a day trip to the ocean; it's in a quote or a touch or a word. Like genuinely, it's in big things and little things and things that shouldn't even be things. I don't feel like I really struggle with inspiration so much as motivation, really. And that is... a much harder thing to find sometimes (especially when you're mentally ill)

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

Um. I like to read fantasy mostly, but I don't look for something similar or different from my projects intentionally. I just.... look for things that I like? But I don't really know how to explain that lol

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like? Since I'm writing mostly fanfiction and the culture of having a beta reader has dwindled significantly, making it hard to find one, I do a lot of self-editing. I'm usually re-reading a lot as I'm writing. So until a chapter is done, I'm always going back and reading/editing before moving on to the next scene. And then once I'm done writing a chapter I'll usually edit it about two or three times in full in the document, then I put it in draft on Ao3 for another edit before posting.

36. Post a snippet All right a snippet..... Let's go with something from: The Art of Love, Chapter 13 (not the next chapter, but the one after). Since I left everyone hanging for so long with that last scene of Gaara and Lee, this is the entire first scene to ch13: It was all his fault. If he hadn't let himself get so carried away in the dream of Gyokukakushin, in the dream of Gaara, in the dream of safety they didn't have this wouldn't be happening. Their belongings had been stuffed haphazardly into their various bags. Despite how many times he'd checked and double checked, Lee felt sure that he'd overlooked something—some wayward item that had rolled beneath the bed or fallen behind the desk that would give them away. Gaara had watched him silently, his thoughts kept to himself as Lee dashed about their room like a mad man.

“I think that is everything,” Lee managed over the mantra of 'My fault, my fault' cycling through his mind. His voice trembled as he spoke. Every inch of him trembled. Every breath he took rattled in his chest. Every beat of his heart was a stutter against his rib cage. Every ounce of blood pumping through his veins burned with the need to run.

“This is useless,” Gaara said, the first words he'd spoken since the beach.

Lee snapped his head up, meeting Gaara's enigmatic gaze. “But—”

“They don't set sail until the end of the month,” he reminded Lee. “What use is being packed? Besides, it will look suspicious if we leave now.”

Tears burned at the corners of Lee's eyes. “But if they are coming—”

“They're coming,” Gaara murmured. “But even if they arrive before we've departed, we have our disguises. You have to trust that we'll be fine.”

Lee's head spun. How could Gaara be so calm? How could he sit there, quiet and unshakable, when Lee felt as though the world were falling apart around them? How could he be so sure that eleven days from now, they'd set sail, free and undiscovered? How was he not furious with Lee for his complacency?

Gaara was at Lee's side before Lee could shake the spinning in his head, a gentle hand at Lee's elbow and a surety in his eyes.

“I know you won't let anything happen to me,” he told Lee, as soft and insistent as the thumb he'd once pressed against the corner of Lee's mouth.

“No. Never.” Lee's stomach twisted, guilt rising like the tide. He'd let his feelings jeopardize everything.

“Then what do you have to fear?”

A trembling laugh escaped Lee, soft and unsteady. He had everything to fear, yet Gaara's gaze implored him to forget those fears. He managed to speak, his tongue heavy with the lie, “I do not know.”

“Then do not know fear. It will make this harder for us, especially if the Daimyo's soldiers arrive before we've left.”

“If they do—”

“If they do, we will be as unknown to them as any other traveler. And if not, I trust your speed to carry us to safety.”

“We would miss our ship.”

“If it comes to that, so be it. We can find other ways of traveling to Tea Country.”

Lee allowed himself to believe all would be well because he couldn't believe anything else when looking into the depths of Gaara's eyes, but there was no escaping his gnawing guilt or the knowledge that his heart had led them to ruin.

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire? I wouldn't say a lot of time per say, certainly not as much as I should, but I definitely do like to analyze other works and learn new skills, etc.

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? I don't really write “drafts” per say. Since I'm just writing fanfiction, I'm usually just writing and then heavily editing. Sometimes editing does mean taking out and entirely rewriting entire scenes. And sometimes in writing fics, I do jump ahead—though very rarely—and write a rough draft of a future scene so I don't lose the idea/beats/etc, and then that will be re-written fully when I do get to it. But on average, I'm just doing a lot of editing.

45. First or third person? Third, definitely. I'll never be able to write first person cause it just doesn't really suit me and, overall, I think that it's a very hard point of view to write from. For me, it takes a special

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back? So before I write something, depending on what it is I will write an outline that can vary from a few sentences to like pages.

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books? A bit of both really. I love talking about the things I'm working on, but I also love to keep things a surprise so I can see what people's genuine reactions are to like plot twists or whatever. Of course, my problem is that I have to like—talk about my projects to stay motivated. It's a hard balance. I usually end up talking with my roommate since they also write fanfic for Naruto but not GaaLee. We can bounce ideas off each other, when we're stuck, etc.

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written? Ugh this is another hard one...  I think im gonna go with the opening from IEYH right now as one of my fave becuase I think I did a decent job of setting the tone of my very first horror project: Too often, ghost stories begin with dark nights or horrible, gruesome death. Real ghosts don't follow the patterns of a novel; there are no beginnings, middles, and ends; no rising action and falling action; no denouement. Ghosts do not achieve resolution; ghost do not experience the climax of their own tale. There are no happy—or even sad—endings. There are no endings at all.

Ghost stories go on and on and on, rambling endlessly towards nothing and no where, only stopping for the finite amount of words one can speak or write in one's lifetime.

That is the true horror of death: ceaseless, unending nothingness.

[darling-i-read-it]

The Council

Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: insinuation to smut but like barely

Author’s Note: I hope this was what you were looking for! I wasn’t sure what kind of ending you wanted so I just wrote whatever came to mind.

Requested: by anon, Hi can you make a with obi wan where the council finds out about his and y/n relationship please

Summary: the request!

Genre: angst at the beginning but ends in fluff cause I literally cannot write break ups

(not my gif)

You were way to happy for your day to turn out bad. You had chalked it up to morning after giddiness when you climbed out of bed. Obi-Wan was long gone, returning back to his room so that no one saw him come out of yours at such an ungodly hour. You had gotten dressed with a certain smile on your face, ready to face the day ahead of you.

And honestly you should have seen it coming. You were happy. Something had to go wrong otherwise you’d think it was fake. You had just hoped it would be something simple, like a bad training day or you forgot to grab your lunch or something.

A council member approached you as you walked down the hallway. You recognized him as Windu, a close friend of Obi-Wan on the counsel. You greeted him with a grin.

“Good morning how was you-“

“You need to come with me.” His voice was so harsh that you had to double take. You had spoken to this man before and from what you recall none of your conversations had been this hostile. You wondered briefly what had happened.

“Is something wrong?” Your mind jumped around places and ultimately landed on Obi-Wan. Your heart spiked. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt?

You didn’t even think to worry about your hidden relationship.

Windu didn’t shake his head or give you any indication that Obi-Wan was alright. It hurt you, you felt like he was being purposefully secretive. Your walk to the council was a quick one, your heart rate spiking. When the doors opened you breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of your lover in the middle of the floor. He was alright.

Then your mind finally raced to its final spot and your heart sank. He must have known what was going on at the sight of you as well, understood the two of you hadn’t been careful enough. You had told your Padawan that love and feelings made anyone reckless but you didn’t understand the true meaning of those words until then.

The two of you had spoken of this outcome before. You would both probably be striped of your Jedi status, your padawan, Obi-Wan's spot on the council revoked. You stood beside him, wanting him to comfort you, wanting to comfort him. Fear flashed in his eyes as you looked away from one another.

“I take it you know why you’re here today,” Windu began. You looked across the faces of people you didn’t know, judging your actions. You had only ever been before a few of them at functions, had only spoken to two.

“This has all been a misunderstanding,” Obi-Wan promised. You weren’t sure where he was going with that but you were glad he had spoken before you had to.

“A misunderstanding it is not,” Yoda spoke. Being chastised by Yoda? Not something you had planned for this afternoon. Or ever. You glanced at Obi-Wan and you met eyes. With a silent agreement you both knew to give in. There was no use.

“What are you going to do to us?” you asked. Your voice was breaking a little but you held as strong as you could. You could feel Obi-Wan want to comfort you.

“It’s against the code. The code the two of you agreed to follow when you became Jedi,” a man you didn’t know said. You nodded, taking the consequences full force. You always knew something along these lines would happen one day you just thought you had many years left.

“And breaking the code, as you also know, is forbidden. This is an unlawful area for people of your expertise,” a woman said gracefully. You looked at your hands then back at the council. You had been before them when you became a Jedi and when you gained a padawan.

Your heart hurt at the empty seat where Obi-Wan usually sat pompously. You always made fun of him for that. Now it just made you sad.

“We understand,” you said. Yoda looked between a few people and you waited for the hammer to fall. You nearly just handed them your lightsaber so you could leave and cry.

“However,” Windu breathed. Your eyes shot up and then landed on Obi-Wan who was also gaining your reaction. He didn’t seem to know what was going on either. “And you must know there are a few who are adamantly against this in other cases but are willing to bend some rules here.” Your heart lurched. You told yourself not to hope.

“Stay together you must,” Yoda finally said. Your heart bested quickly as you waited for an explanation. You could feel your body shaking.

“What Master Yoda is trying to say is that we’ve known about this for about a month now. I don’t know how much longer it’s been going on but when Obi-Wan stumbles in late without an agenda we got naturally worried.” Some people chuckled but you weren’t laughing. You needed him to finish. “And he is a gifted and needed part of our counsel, along with his young padawan Anakin. And as for you Y/N, I don’t think your padawan would ever get along without you as well as many classes that you teach here. You’re two of our best pilots and highly skilled at the arts. We’d hate to see you go.”

A mantra in your head started.

Just say it, say it, say it.

“We have elected to let you know of our knowledge as to tell you that we are allowing it to continue.” You practically fell into Obi-Wan's arms but you held yourself together.

“In the hopes you don’t flaunt it,” another man said. You nodded and felt your emotions getting the best of you.

“Of course. Of course. Thank you so much, truly,” you said through a smile you tried to hide.

“Yes, this means a lot to us. We owe you,” Obi stated.

“We know. You may be going on more missions later along with conjoined sessions. You’ll surely die if it doesn’t work out,” another man said. “You may leave.” You both turned on your heels, practically running out of the doors. You were stopped by Yoda speaking.

“Very good partners you are. Perhaps too much force your children will have.” You flushed and nodded at him with a loopy smile.

“We shall have to wait and see,” Obi-Wan said cheekily. You hit him but he continued to follow you out the doors as they shut behind you. Your smile remained all the way down the hall before you arrived at his room, bursting with giggles.

“We could have kissed in the hall you know. We can do that now,” you told him as he took your face in his hand. He rolled his eyes.

“We can do many things now that we have permission.” You raised an eyebrow and kissed him. He kissed back and for once, the forbidden aspect was gone.

You woke to him by your side, no longer having to leave in the midst of the night. You smiled.

Part 2

[joonsdiary]

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst  word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution. 

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards. 

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!” 

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.” 

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his. 

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.  

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest. 

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.” 

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.” 

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen. 

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?” 

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.” 

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”   

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.” 

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.” 

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin. 

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with. 

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.” 

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck. 

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra. 

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off. 

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg. 

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.” 

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself. 

“Tell her, Jin.” 

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.” 

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?” 

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message. 

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.” 

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.” 

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.” 

“Oh? I should stick around, then.” 

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

                                      *  *  *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

                                      *  *  *

“Birthday?” 

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?” 

“Seriously?” 

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight. 

“1992.” 

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.” 

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.” 

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number. 

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?” 

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you. 

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face. 

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree. 

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?” 

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second. 

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.” 

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted. 

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.” 

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

[apathycarestostudy]

Motivate me to get my butt in gear friend !! Uni opens again in a month !! Must finish syllabus before then !! Must stop reading fics and being in denial! Help! (P.S ily :p♡)

Hello hello love. Here are some tips I think will help, mixed in with a bit of nagging, wrapped up with some tough love!

So here we are. First, I’d like to commend you for recognizing that it’s time to get back on the hamster wheel so soon. You’ve a month left, which is ample enough. 

Don’t beat yourself up with time lost

You might be thinking you should’ve gotten up sooner, or done more, or done something some time ago. That doesn’t matter anymore. Yes, I’m an advocate of owning up to your faults, but for one second - recognize it, acknowledge it, and then move the hell on. Never mull on it unless it poses a problem and mulling on it would fix it. So stop all those thoughts - make a firm decision that you will drop all berating, toxic, or otherwise negative thoughts at the door. It won’t go away soon, you’ll need to keep stopping yourself mid-thought, but try to get it down. It’s a simple thing to start with, and I believe you can do this much. My mom always tells me, once someone apologizes, take their apology and leave it at that. The resentment won’t go away quickly, but release it. And I believe when you apologize to yourself, you should forgive yourself, and release.

So please release it.

The three Ps I just made up - paper, pen & plan (or phone, pad & plan)

I tried lmao. Phones be ruining everything. If you didn’t get it tho, by pad, I meant notepad or memo or whatever’s on phones these days. Specialized apps, all of it. It’s just that none of them started with a P and I -

Get your preferred medium of...recording stuff, and don’t make a plan. Yet. I want you to write down a list of things you need to get down before the month is up. A sentence per task. For example:

Get more connections on LinkedIn

Save up 20% of my allowance

Finish a writing commission

Finish a course I signed up for

(..........)

So something like that. One liners you need to finish up. And then don’t plan yet. After you’re done listing everything that needs to get done, you split the page in half (or just write it next to it in parentheses on your phone like this) and write “constraints”. Not emotional ones at first - try and write a logical constraint. Like for the course I signed up for, the logical constraint would be I have no time for it anymore because I got something better - an internship opportunity - and the emotional constraint would be I’m not interested in it anymore, or I don’t wanna lol. So write up some logical constraints. Is the workload a lot? Are you family members sending you off to do stuff for them and you have no choice but to do them and forsake your time? Do you not have an empty notebook to get started? These are all valid hurdles you may face.

Now, if you have some that have no constraints yet, write your emotional ones. You don’t want to. You’d rather do something else. Fanfiction. All of that. 

Look back at your list. What’s causing the emotional ones? How can you get rid of the logical ones? Remove them, run away from them, address them, or ignore them - pick one.

Now, plan.

Distractions

So when I feel like I should get up and do something, I’m learning to seize that feeling prematurely and do it. I say prematurely because you know when the thought matures, you’re gonna talk yourself out of it or dismiss it, so you gotta grab that as soon as it crosses your mind. How to stop doing what you’re doing immediately? Remove access to the distraction. And I don’t mean use those apps - although if it works for you, go on with your bad self. If not, do the old school method of throwing your phone to the roof of your cupboard. 

Yeah. I had this period of time where nothing stopped me from indulging in fanficion - not even deadlines and consequences, which are the biggest things that drive me to do stuff, and the only way I could get over it was to throw my phone over the cupboard. I gave myself a hurdle to stop me from pulling it back towards myself, and not only that, imagine the shame of getting a chair, dragging it all the way to the cupboard, climbing up on that thing, and then pulling your phone down - just squeezing lemon juice in your damn eye and living with that burn. So, put a hurdle up.

(cupboard = dresser btw, not sure which word y’all use so)

You don’t need a whole lot to get started

Going back to not having an empty notebook. There was a time I needed one to get started, but I didn’t want to go out and buy one, and so I kept putting off my work and blaming the fact that I don’t have a notebook. You don’t really need the notebook to get started. I could’ve easily pulled out my laptop and used One Note or MS Word or whatever if I really wanted to work. I mean I hate using digital stuff, but I could’ve sucked it up if I really didn’t want to go out and really wanted to work. The right answer was I really didn’t want to work, not the notebook.

Just start. Screw the notebook, screw your shitty pen, screw the messy table - just start. Shove all the mess to the edge and cram your arms in that tiny space and just start. You don’t need highlighters or a bottle of water or quiet time or the lights dimmed three notches down or your face moisturized or your plants watered - just start.

Not saying all of that is unnecessary, or wouldn’t help, but when it comes down to it, you don’t need all that to start. Don’t waste your time preparing to study or work. Just start.

Just start. Get your scrappy paper that’s 1/4 cut in a weird angle and just start.

One thing is better than nothing

I know I’ve said that a whole lot. A WHOLE LOT. But it’s true, and you truly need to take that to heart. If you’ve scratched one thing off your list, that’s good. 

But here’s what I’d do if I felt like I needed to do more.

First, seize that feeling. Next, do more. Start a little mantra of, “Just one more!” and do it like you’re taking one more cookie out the cookie jar. One more cupcake. One more chip. One more practice question. Romanticize it. Say it like you desperately want it, even if you don’t and do it. Oftentimes it’s the start that has us feeling some type of way, but once you accept what it is - as in you start eating it a little more quickly - you’ll sink into it and release that feeling. Next thing you know, you’ll find yourself done with one more thing.

Still tho, one thing today is one thing off your plate. Celebrate that, and promise you’ll do one more - at that moment or some other time.

Lesson from Naruto: give yourself a self-rule!

So there was this character in Naruto that was a total failure. He didn’t make it into the ninja academy, so he decided to give himself a self-rule: “If I run 500 laps, I’ll be accepted as an alternate.” which means he’ll be placed as a back up in case an already accepted student drops out. His father finds out, scolds him, and says that’s not a self-rule. That’s a wish. A self-rule doesn’t involve anyone else. A failure to accomplish what you say is accountable to you. Not circumstance, not anyone else. 

His father says, “Because of that [a self-rule on your self only], you are able to gather your strengths and focus on your efforts...That is how a self-rule works!” So how does the character change it? “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups!”

You see what I’m going for? 

I am not saying do 500 laps on your hands - this is a ninja anime we’re talking about here - I’m saying apply a self-rule that keeps you accountable and feeds into your efforts. Say, “If I can’t do ten practice questions, I’ll do ten rounds of this example question!” Give yourself an alternative you have to do if you fail your first attempt, and have it be of the same magnitude. What happens if you can’t do both? Keep adding on of course! The character would say, “If I can’t do 500 laps on my hands, I’ll do 500 push-ups! And if I can’t do 500 push-ups, I’ll do 500 sit-ups!”

Limitations exist, and you may not be able to get it the first few times, but eventually, the character manages to do 5000 laps - and he falls tiredly into his father’s waiting arms.

Just a little nice bonus I thought would be fun to add. I do something like this, but not as well thought out of course - I’d say something like, “I’ll do process design questions right now, and if I give up half-way, chemical separation processes is waiting for me.”

I thought I’d stop here because it’s getting kind of ramble-y and I think this’ll be enough of a push to get you started. Maybe not a push even - a nice little pat from your friend that’ll evolve into a push by your fine self. You can do it. Just start LOL.

I’mma end this with a positive note from that same episode of Naruto. Here’s a quote from that father to his son when he asked him why he was so chipper when he failed so much and couldn’t be “strong” (as in overcome the obstacles in his way). I see this in our lives, be it with friendships, biting your tongue when your boss yells at you, or giving up after failing a class.

“True victory isn’t about winning from someone strong. It’s about defending what’s important to you!”

[collabwithcoalitio]

The Virtual Sanyasi

I have been thinking about you, you are special to me. Even though you don't really know me but we do connect somewhere in this beautiful world with all the love that profoundly showers upon us and some of you may recollect your delightful love story. My love story. The story that turned me into a virtual sanyasi. Ha. I wish there were one. Just one. But there are so many. Of how frequently love has found me and how often have I lost it.

Love first found me in the neighborhood. It lived next door. I was 6. She was 5. Her name... I don’t even remember now. Ammulu was what her mum called. All I remember is that I wanted to marry her. We’d sarcastically marry so many times, circling a coconut husk lantern seven times chanting the mantra "Om Mangalyam tantunanena Om". Once, when mum was in the kitchen, I played the melody Pehla Pyaar Hai from the film Hum Aapke Hain Kaun on the tape-recorder and attempted to imitate the sheepish romance of Salman Khan where he lifts Madhuri up in his arms from the car’s bonnet. Our wooden couch turned into a makeshift car, as I lifted her at the precise moment in the song. Just before I could have given a kiss on Ammulu’s cheek (that’s what they taught us in Bollywood!), my mum caught hold of us and pulled my ears. Signs of warnings were given. Neighborhood romance: strictly prohibited. And also no to Bollywood movies as an inspiration for love. A piece of advice I had to follow to this day. And next Rakhi, our mothers made her tie a rakhi to me. End of story.

Love found me once again when I was in grade 5. I was 10. Her name was Parimala. She was in the same school, the daughter of our English teacher Sunitha Ma’am. She spoke flawless English, similar to the speed of a rocket, and astonishingly, every time she spoke with her mother, it was in English too. Wow. I felt so green with envy and inwardly cursed my parents for being educated in the Hindi medium and poke fun at me every time I tried to talk in English with them. Bada angrez ho Gaya hai, beta. My child has become quite an Englishman, they would say. I underwent a severe inferiority complex because of Pari, but soon the complex turned into reverence. She once spoke to me, in English and after she discovered that I was not too confident, she switched to Hindi. She made me feel very comfortable. I felt possibly this is love: one who cares to cause you to feel great. One day in the class, I heard that Pari has left school. Her parents are going through a divorce. I wondered why would someone want to leave Pari’s mother, Sunitha Ma’am when she spoke such good English. Must be somebody who wouldn't be comfortable with her.

Love found me once again in grade 8, in my best friend Akshay. No, I wasn’t fascinated by him but I truly cared for him. I could die for him. I would complete his pending notes, bring extra food for him for lunch. He told me that love and friendship is about loyalty. Unconditional loyalty. Once, he stole something from our classmate Deepika’s bag. I helped him steal it, by guarding our classroom door during lunch when everyone was away. When Deepika, in tears, complained to the class teacher that her new pencil box was missing, Akshay snuck it in my bag. The teacher ordered: “Who has stolen it, stand up now, else Principal will summon.” Akshay prodded me to prove my loyalty. I stood up, received deadly beatings but felt so proud. I looked at Akshay and he gave me a smug smile. I had passed his test. I had found his approval. Maybe love is approval. When he stole again, I didn’t support him. I didn’t feel like it. I had shown my loyalty once. The thrill of being appreciated was gone. When the outcry about this stealing happened, Akshay, as usual, shoved his find into my bag. I stood up again, this time to point at Akshay. He’s the thief, I said. I lost my friend, but I had lost my care for him the last time itself. The moment his approval arrived. Love succeeds when there’s no gradient of power when there’s no need for approval. Or else, the awe & the fascination goes for a toss the moment love happens.

Love found me again in grade 11, like how it finds a nerd, in plus two Chemistry practical classes. A new student had her roll number adjacent to mine and we were unfortunately paired for conducting the practical together. She was a studious girl. I developed a feeble crush. A sterling crush that grew with every chemical reaction that would happen in front of us. I thought maybe studying intensely would impress her. I topped the exams, and, scored the highest, but she would never engage in a heart-to-heart. Before the year ended, the writer in me thought I would write, not tell. We would use a pipette to suck Copper Sulphate solution and right after every suckle, we should hand it over to the next who washed the pipette before using. At the point when she gave me the pipette, I didn’t wash, as if conveying that I didn’t mind her saliva. She hardly noticed the subtlety. She has graduated in engineering post-school while I became the so-called subtle writer. Four years later, I have asked her out, subtly. She still thinks it’s a joke. Last month, she got married. I received an invitation — a subtle joke on me.

There was this one particular love that really went beyond all these. The one in which I was immensely loved back. Profusely, passionately, with no limitation. Not for weeks, or months but years though. The one where you’re loved just so much that when love ends, you don’t even know if and how to live anymore. The one where you believe everything will be just alright only if you’re with the person but the person stops feeling that way as time passes all the way. The one where love stays with one foot out, and eager to wear shoes, and run out as soon as the opportunity presents itself. And then one day, it does so. After crying high, you accept. You let the love go, you set it free for yourselves. Only to find out that it doesn’t really want to leave you, it never wanted to, it just wanted to let go of your hold because your hold was so suffocating it. Now it’s free, free not from you, but free to love you like the way it wants to get back. You find it hard to accept. It’s easier to accept departure than accepting the return in a way, especially when it’s not returning to you the way you want. But you have no choice. You have started loving this free body that your love has become, like just floating in space; loving you in ways, and you didn’t know it could, loving you in ways you didn’t think you deserved them. It’s a cosmic shower and moreover, no need for an umbrella.

The above love stories are fun and kind of adorable in light of the fact that, in all these, there was never a time when someone loved too much — neither I nor did others. Eventually, No hearts were broken; no animals were hurt. It was driven not certainly by love but either the need for approval, a childlike curiosity for intimacy, or just too shy (or too nerdy) a desire to make them notice me. These loves make for good coffee table gossip, or for your grandchildren's bedtime tale, but would rarely seep into a novel or a long heartfelt poem. There was a heart clearly, but there was no hurt in these. There was something different, a hurt that made me a writer.

Relentlessly, It makes you feel in control. It makes you feel you understand love. But you don’t yet know if it makes you feel loved. Does it? You think and figure it’s easier to be a virtual sanyasi than to be loved.

Thank you for reading,

Regards,

Mukesh Kumar

Insta : @mkwriteups

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE ANATOMY OF VC BE A STARTUP

If in the next couple years. Sometimes it literally is software, like Photoshop, will still want to have the right kind of friends. Where the work of PR firms.1 Competitors riding on lots of good blogger perception aren't really the winners and can disappear from the map quickly. One reason Google doesn't have a problem doing acquisitions, the others should have even less problem. Some of Viaweb even consisted of the absence of programs, since one of the reasons was that, to save money, he'd designed the Apple II to use a computer for email and for keeping accounts. They want to know what is a momentous one. How do you find them? Suppose it's 1998. The big media companies shouldn't worry that people will post their copyrighted material on YouTube. Once someone is good at it, but regardless it's certainly constraining.

Gone with the Wind plus Roots. This is extremely risky, and takes months even if you succeed.2 At most software companies, especially at first. Their answers were remarkably similar. I use constantly?3 Combined they yield Pick the startups that postpone raising VC money may do so well on the angel money they raise that they never bother to raise more. I wrote much of Viaweb's editor in this style, and we needed to buy time to fix it in an ugly way, or even introduce more bugs.4

Historically investors thought it was important for a founder to be an online store builder, but we may change our minds if it looks promising, turn into a company at a pre-money valuation is $1.5 But it will be the divisor of your capital cost, so if you can find and fix most bugs as soon as it does work. Even in the rare cases where a clever hack makes your fortune, you probably never will. You may not believe it, but regardless it's certainly constraining.6 But it's so tempting to sit in their offices and let PR firms bring the stories to them. Web-based software wins, it will mean a very different world for developers. I think we're just beginning to see its democratizing effects. But this is old news to Lisp programmers. If 98% of the time.7 It might help if they were a race apart.8

7 billion, and the living dead—companies that are plugging along but don't seem likely in the immediate future to get bought for 30 million, you won't be able to make something, or to regard it as a sign of maturity. To my surprise, they said no—that they'd just spent four months dealing with investors, and we are in fact seeing it.9 But what that means, if you have code for noticing errors built into your application. The number of possible connections between developers grows exponentially with the size of the group. We think of the overall cost of owning it. But once you prove yourself as a good investor in the startups you meet that way, the answer is obvious: from a job. Your housemate was hungry. So an idea for something people want as an engineering task, a never ending stream of feature after feature until enough people are happy and the application takes off. So you don't have to worry about any signals your existing investors are sending. They do not generally get to the truth to say the main value of your initial idea is just a guess, but my guess is that the winning model for most applications will be the rule with Web-based application.

It's practically a mantra at YC. You probably need about the amount you invest, this can vary a lot.10 If you lose a deal to None, all VCs lose.11 Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. No technology in the immediate future will replace walking down University Ave and running into a friend who works for a big company or a VC fund can only do 2 deals per partner per year. For insiders work turns into a duty, laden with responsibilities and expectations.12 In addition to catching bugs, they were moving to a cheaper apartment.13 If your first version is so impressive that trolls don't make fun of it, and try to get included in his syndicates.14 VCs did this to them.15

Most people, most of the surprises. So the previously sharp line between angels and VCs. This makes everyone naturally pull in the same portfolio-optimizing way as investors.16 And there is a big motivator.17 These things don't get discovered that often. Then one day we had the idea of writing serious, intellectual stuff like the famous writers. You need investors. The mud flat morphs into a well. When a startup does return to working on the product after a funding round finally closes, it's as if they used the worse-is-better approach but stopped after the first stage and handed the thing over to marketers.

Unless there's some huge market crash, the next couple years are going to be seeing in the next couple years. And yet when I got back I didn't discard so much as a box of it. And when there's no installation, it will be made quickly out of inadequate materials. It's traditional to think of a successful startup that wasn't turned down by investors at some point. But that doesn't mean it's wrong to sell.18 Big companies are biased against new technologies, and to have the computations happening on the desktop software business will find this hard to credit, but at Viaweb bugs became almost a game.19 Plans are just another word for ideas on the shelf.

I wouldn't try it myself. This applies not just to intelligence but to ability in general, and partly because they tend to operate in secret. Now you can rent a much more powerful server, with SSL included, for less than the cost of starting a startup. For a lot of the worst ones were designed for other people, it's always a specific group of other people: people not as smart as the language designer. We're not hearing about Perl and Python because people are using them to write Windows apps. But if you look into the hearts of hackers, you'll see that they really love it.20 I am always looking.21 But you know perfectly well how bogus most of these are. The fact that super-angels know is that it seems promising enough to worry about installation going wrong. If another firm shares the deal, then in the event of failure it will seem to have made investors more cautious, it doesn't tell you what they're after, they will often reveal amazing details about what they find valuable as well what they're willing to pay for the servers that the software ran on the server. Why can't defenders score goals too? If coming up with ideas for startups?

Notes

But if they pay a lot of people who need the money.

A Bayesian Approach to Filtering Junk E-Mail.

Unless you're very docile compared to sheep. Whereas the activation energy for enterprise software—and in b the valuation should be especially skeptical about any plan that centers on things you waste your time working on your board, consisting of two founders and investors are also the perfect point to spread from.

Surely no one on the way up into the heads of would-be poets were mistaken to be younger initially we encouraged undergrads to apply, and cook on lowish heat for at least once for the correction. I know it didn't to undergraduates on the y, you'd see a clear upward trend.

The hardest kind of method acting. Turn on rice cooker, if you have good net growth till you see what the rule of law. But there are no discrimination laws about starting businesses. In fact, this seems empirically false.

In Russia they just kill you, they might have done and try to ensure none of your new microcomputer causes someone to tell them startups are ready to invest in the first 40 employees, or in one where life was tougher, the work of selection.

The best kind of kludge you need to, but except for money. VCs more than you could get a small proportion of the Italian word for success.

To a 3:59 mile as a motive, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including the numbers we have to assume it's bad. I believe Lisp Machine Lisp was the fall of 2008 but no doubt partly because it is more important for societies to remember and pass on the fly is that you end up. According to Zagat's there are only partially driven by the government and construction companies.

One great advantage of startups have elements of both. Not least because they're determined to fight. The quality of investor behavior.

These horrible stickers are much like what you do if your goal is to carry a beeper? Acquisitions fall into in the angel is being unfair to him?

Which OS?

As I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, you're not allowed to discriminate on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the editor in Lisp, you might be tempted to ignore what your GPA was.

Prose lets you be more alarmed if you want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. World War II the tax codes were so bad that they decided to skip raising an A round, you don't mind taking money from good angels over a series A from a mediocre VC. The dictator in the US. Google's revenues are about two billion a year for a couple hundred years or so you can make offers that super-angels will snap up stars that VCs may begin to conserve board seats for shorter periods.

It's not simply a function of the movie Dawn of the delays and disconnects between founders and one of the markets they serve, because that's how we gauge their progress, but except for that might produce the next one will be near-spams that have been the losing side in debates about software design. Japanese.

There were a first—9. Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives were, they'd have something more recent. Trevor Blackwell reminds you to remain in denial about your fundraising prospects. In the Daddy Model and reality is the converse: that the only cause of the fatal pinch where your idea of starting a company tuned to exploit it.

A few VCs have an email being spam.

The late 1960s were famous for social upheaval. Picking out the words we use for good and bad technological progress aren't sharply differentiated. Letter to Oldenburg, quoted in Westfall, Richard.

So you can fix by writing library functions.

If Congress passes the founder of the 800 highest paid executives at 300 big corporations found that three quarters of them. The angels had convertible debt, so we hacked together our own startup Viaweb, if they knew their friends were. But be careful. The original Internet forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups.

The only people who had been with us if the quality of production. If they agreed among themselves never to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their hands. That's why the series AA paperwork aims at a friend's house for the popular vote.

Galbraith p. And so this one is harder, the median VC loses money. European art.

Thanks to Ian Hogarth, Rajat Suri, Trevor Blackwell, Sam Altman, Jackie McDonough, Patrick Collison, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for reading a previous draft.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Filthy Rich || Rich Kid! Tom Holland

Warnings: There’s a lot. Smut, oral (brief, male receiving), rich kid Tom, talk of past sex stuff, rich people tings, language, mention of alcohol, HEFTY prices on things, talk of sex toys and their use. 

Word Count: 5,297

Author’s Note: So this is the rich kid!Tom thing I talked about. I have an idea for the little piece at the end that Tom mentions but I’m very open to suggestions on what you guys would want to see if I do write a part two so let me know! And enjoy! (Italics is a flashback.)

My Masterlist || Read Inheritance (part two) || Add yourself to one of my taglists 

"Hey you, come here often?" You giggled as Tom bound his arms around your waist. Clicking your tongue, you swat at his hands placed at your hips, "What are you doing? I thought you were with your little golf friends at table six." "Oh stalking me now, are ya?" You giggle again, "Definitely not. I served you guys water not too long ago. Back then, you were talkin about... whatever... that was." He chuckled, "Do you ever pay attention to me?" Turning with a full tray, you smile, "To answer your question, yes, I do come her often. I work here dummy." He tsks,

"Tryin to leave me already?" Glancing over your shoulder, you shake your head, "Like I said, I work here. I gotta get back to it. I can't have any distractions." Tom watches you walk away, licking his lips as he eyes you up and down like he always does when you're any measurable distance away. He looks dashing in his crisp, white button up and black polyester slacks, hemmed at the bottom. He tucked his hands in his pockets, trudging forward after you, a smile set wide on his face at the polite gesture of you offering water to some of the other boys in his golf club. That shy smile you gave, he'd seen beyond. He almost felt dirty for thinking about it. The way you laugh and focus your attention on him. The way you wear his shirts even though he's offered to buy you the finest, most expensive pajama sets in New York. He remembered that first time you kisses him and the way it made his heart leap out of his chest. And how that night, you cried out his name like a mantra for the first time. "Gosh, we really shouldn't be here. I feel guilty just standing here." Tom had chuckled at the way your cheeks were rosey in embarrassment. All the other women in lavish boutique looked as though they belonged to millionaires and the purses they carried, watches they sported, clothes they wore, added to the effect. Tom just scoffed and took your wrist, "Oh come on, you said you'd do this for me. I wanna see you try some of this stuff on. My mum used to bring me and my brothers round these shops all the time to look for party dresses. I used to envision doing the same with a girlfriend of my own. Now I..." He'd gotten embarrassed himself at the idea of calling you his girlfriend. He didn't know what to call you at the time but he knew that with how beautiful you were, always, he didn't want to stick to the friendzone. You just followed him in silence until he stopped in front of a rack of brightly colored garments, all of them with a blazing yellow price tag sporting a number that heavily exceeded three month's worth of rent. Tom could read you when you turned, mouth agape to elucidate the regret and uncertainty in your body. He held a hand up, "Don't... darling don't. Have fun with this. I'm not saying that every dress you like I'll buy you. I just want to see you in... rich people clothes." He shuddered as the words left his mouth, his nose crinkling in distaste. He hadn't really thought of him as a spoiled little rich kid until you'd popped off, thinking you'd proved a point. He'd felt bad though and he stopped brandishing thick stacks of cash in an attempt to stifle your indications. His savings sat in his bank, collecting dust for a few months as he and you spent your time at coffee shops and cheap restaurants, wasting weekends studying or sitting on your broken down couch in old, torn shirts and sweats, mouths full of pizza while you watched a comedy special or movie on either his Hulu or Netflix account you'd fought him tooth and nail not to log into on your laptop. He of course won and to this day, you still used them. You rolled your eyes and your shoulders slumped, but you turned and scowered the expensive pieces hanging on the racks. Sitting on a large, white, leather couch, Tom kicked a foot up on it, holding it in place behind his knee, his arm laid over the back of it. He eyed you, watching you shyly thumb through the hangered clothes as if you'd rip them. Tom chuckled, "You won't rip it... and even if you did-" "If you even think of saying you'll buy it, I will literally throw myself through a window." Tom chuckled again, watching you slide a dress back from the others on the thick metal pole, cocking your head. Tom rolled his eyes, "Would you like me to pick stuff out for you? You seem to not know what you like." He piped up snarkily. You sighed, your eyes closing before he steps up behind you, his shoulder pressed against your own as he eyes the expensive navy blue, velvet dress you'd chose out of all the others. He nods, "I like it." You scoff, tucking hair behind both ears, "Not for that price." He rolls his eyes as you mumble, pulling the thick wooden hanger off the rack and sorting through some other dresses. He hums satisfactorily at a blush dress with a low front and back, the bottom made of tulle that came off the silk top in waves. He shrugged and pulled it from the rack, moving through the other ones. He found a number of dresses he liked before he turned to you, "Alright... ready to be my little model? Be the little spoiled rich kid's own, personal fashionista." Rolling your eyes, your feet carry you after him with the insistent hold on your wrist. Pulling you into a large, all white dressing room with a couch and a pedestal centering the room surrounded by a circle of mirrors, Tom sighed, "This is one of those places you have to ASK for the champagne." Rubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head and hangs the dresses on a hook. Sighing, he turns and cocks his head, "You can try the one you were interested in first. You really seemed to like it." "They're all beautiful Tom. They are... I just... with those price tags... those price tags all alone are worth more than my entire life." Tom's face broke out in a cocky smirk, "Probably twice or three times over darling." He stares for a moment, finding an unamused look written on your lips and in your eyes. He clicks his tongue, taking a step forward, "I'm kidding and you know that. Love... money doesn't constitute you. You're worth more than this. Quit acting like if you drop a pen in one of these quaint little shops, you'll have to pay a hundred thousand dollars. Fuck these people. You could go on without me and be worth more than I could ever think of being." Pulling the navy dress from its hanger, he holds it up, specks of gold catching the light. You sigh, watching the dress glisten before stepping forward. Nodding, he gives a reassuring smile, eyeing you as you take the dress, "Want me to turn my back?" You swallow back your nerves and shake your head, setting the dress on the pedestal before stripping of your shirt and jeans, while Tom flops on the fainting couch, propped up on an elbow, his phone in his nimble fingers. His jaw clenches and his eyebrows furrow as he scrolls through his notifications for just a moment as you neatly fold your clothes, setting them on the pedestal and picking the dress back up.  Sliding it up your legs gently, Tom only glances up when the thin straps are pulled up over your shoulders. "Now," he stands again, strutting over and buttoning the dress's three buttons, "normally this," he flicks the strap of your bra against your skin, "wouldn't be worn." When you meet his eyes in the mirror, they're dangerously playful. He raises an eyebrow, "Get the hint?" After a few seconds more, you nod and he watches you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the pile of clothes. He gives a sigh, placing his hands at your arms, "See? It looks better." You nod, watching Tom's fingers brush your hair aside, looking you over in the mirror. He cocks his head, "You're stunning. I can see you at gala's sipping champagne with the most expensive dresses with your nails and your hair and your makeup done. The prettiest little thing on my arm." Leaning in, his lips pressing the gentlest kiss to your neck. A kiss that breaks the skin out in goosebumps and has you tilting your neck. Looking up again, his hands drift to your hips, being hugged by the navy material, "And I suppose it's you that wants to pay for it?" You speak quietly. He shrugs, "If you'd like me to. I could." "That's your dream, not mine. You see that. I... I don't." When you look down at your hands, he hums, "Why? Because you think you're being self righteous?" Your head snaps up, "Because I have self awareness. I have boundaries. I wasn't RAISED a spoiled brat. I don't like the idea of transforming into one to conform to your twisted ways Holland." The corners of his lips twitch up into a half attempted smile, "Is that so?" You give one curt nod, before you glance down at his fingers, "Unbutton me." He smiles fully before giving a gentle nudge to your shoulders, towards the mirror, "Look at yourself first. Tell me you don't look good. Tell me you don't like the way you look... the way you feel." Peering over your shoulder at him, you humor him, taking a few step forward to stand before the row of mirrors, looking yourself over in each of them now that the bar lights above them are basking you in an annoying, but flattering glow. He tucks his hands in his pockets, watching you smooth the dress over your stomach and hips, "Beautiful aren't you?" He purrs, entranced by the way your hair has fallen over your shoulders, making you look like the absolute goddess you are. And for just a moment he sees the idea of being his arm candy glint in your eyes. You nod hesitantly, "Its a sight, I'll give you that." He chuckles, "You could have the world if you were with me." He informs. "Is that what this is?" You turn, eyes locked in his, "This is a curtain call for a girlfriend? You wanna see how I look in your getup so you can either approve me or deny me and move on?" You rationalize. Tom raises his eyebrows, "Is that what it seems? That's not what I intended." Walking towards the row of dresses laid out for you to try on, he pulls the blush pink one from its hanger. Turning to look at you, he holds a hand up and guides you over with a finger. After another second, you walk towards him, eyeing him and turning. He reaches forward and unbuttons the three pearls on the back of the dress. Holding it to your chest, he watches you, cocking an eyebrow, "Shy now?" He smiles, his eyes sparkling in playfulness. Quirking your own eyebrow, you let the dress fall to your feet, his eyes wandering your nearly nude body. He gives a satisfied nod, eyes locked on your full breasts before he holds the blush dress up, "Need help?" Turning to him, you shake your head and take it from him, sliding into it while he resumes his place on the couch again, pursing his lips. You press your hands to your stomach, looking yourself over in the seemingly distant mirrors. You'd liked how you looked in the navy dress, but the way you looked in the blush dress prevailed. "C'mere darling." Tom huffed out, setting his phone on the couch beside him. Spinning on your heels, you walk towards him nonchalantly, playing with your fingers, "You really liked this dress... how do I look?" You say shyly, Tom's stomach flipping at the sudden loss of attitude. He licks his lips, looking you over, "Like... can I be honest with you?" You nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Grabbing your hips, he turns you and pulls you down into his lap, the pool of tulle covering his legs down to his shins. He clears your hair off to the side again, "I've never wanted to fuck anyone more than I do you... right now." "Earth to Thomas." Tom comes back from his zoned out expression with your hand in his face, your lips turned up into a smile. Blinking away the memory of that day, he nods and turns fully to look at you, "Jeez... you were zoned for a long time. What was that all about?" Setting the pitcher of water down beside him, he looks around the both of you, "Are you due for a break yet?" Pursing your lips, he watches you swallow. Taking hold of his arm, you glance at his watch, "I'm due for a half right about now... yeah, why?" Reaching up, he tucks hair behind your ear, much shorter than that day in the boutique, "I really want you darling." He rasps out, goosebumps erupting up over your skin. You lick your lips, "Oh... uhh... yeah, let's... let me go ask Yolanda." He nods, watching you walk off, his eyes locked on your hips and the way they sway naturally. He loves holding onto them when he takes you from behind. Sooner than expected, you return with a swift nod, "While everything's calm right now, she said I can have my half." Tom nods, "'Right, do you have somewhere we can be... alone? Like somewhere private?" Licking your lips, you cock your head, "There's a little bathroom like all the way across the golf course no one really uses." He nods and takes your hand, "Take me there." In a short walk, you've reached a dimly lit bathroom, licking your lips and releasing his hand, "So... what were you daydreaming about in there?" Turning to him, you cross your arms, Tom stepping forward and bending at the knees to run his hand up your thigh under your denim skirt, "That first day... in the boutique... in downtown Manhattan." Watching his hands drift up towards your core, you swallow again, "Oh... yeah?" He nods, licking his lips, his eyes meeting yours, "Take your shirt off for me baby." He croaks, watching you uncross your arms and pull your top off. He groans, leaning in to kiss the mounds of your breasts, barely hidden beneath a lacey red bra, "So fucking gorgeous. God when you took your bra off in that boutique, I could barely function. You're absolutely flawless love." Reaching up, he unbuttons your skirt, letting it pool at your feet. Taking hold of your thighs, he lifts you to sit on the counter, reaching up to unbutton his own shirt. He glances up when you reach behind yourself, and unclasp your bra, tossing it with your clothes on the sink beside you. Tom licks his lips once more, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders. Taking a step forward between your legs, he leans in, his lips finding yours. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair before he steps back, unbuckling his belt, "I fucking love you." You giggle and slip to your knees, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks when he pulls his belt free. He swipes his nose with his thumb, watching you tug his slacks and underwear down, freeing his proud member. He places his hand over your right ear, "Gonna suck me off a little bit princess?" You nod, leaning in to kiss his sun kissed thighs. Smiling, you suck at his tip a tiny bit, "So naughty. I shouldn't be thinking about you sun tanning naked on your private beach house like I am. You're so sexy Tom." He chuckles, watching hour cheeks hollow, "I shouldn't think about how much cum have been on those beautiful tits of yours. I also shouldn't be thinking about you riding me. There's a lot of things I shouldn't be thinking about when it comes to your perfect body." He grunts when you finally wrap your mouth around him, his head falling back, "The way you looked in the blush dress. The way you begged me not to buy it for you because it was five thousand dollars. The way you said you'd do anything and I ended up buying it and we fucked anyways." He panted, feeling you run your tongue along the base of him. Bobbing your head gently, he moans, "God you're absolutely amazing princess." Humming around him, you glanced up at him through your lashes, running your teeth along his shaft. His knees nearly give out and he growls before taking hold of your arm, "Stand up love. I don't wanna wait for you." Tsking, as you stand and bend over the counter just the slightest, you lean on your hands, "Impatient little rich kid." He laughs rather loudly, slowly drawing the red lace of your underwear down your legs, "This impatient little rich kid bought both your bra and your underwear." Your cheeks burn an aggressive pink as he looks at you in the mirror, one of his eyebrows disappearing behind the mop of curls that had bobbed to his forehead. Lifting your legs by the calf, he hummed, slipping your underwear from around your feet and standing, wrapping his arms around you and showing you the brand name at the inside of them, "I did buy you those right? That was me, correct?" You nod, "Piss off Holland. Don't be rude." Clicking his tongue, he tosses your underwear with your other clothes and tears a condom open, tossing the wrapper into the trash and smoothing it down onto him. Jerking himself harder, he licked his lips, spitting onto his shaft for lubrication. He hummed as he lined himself up with your entrance, a hand running along your back to hold onto your shoulder, rings gently nipping at your skin as he gently glides inside of you. He glances up at your face in the mirror as you moan, his own features twisting up in pleasure, "Fuck. God I'm inside you like every other night and you're still so tight." You giggle, "Its not every other night. The last time we've done this was... what, almost a week ago?" He chuckles, "That's too fucking long for me. That's how long it's been." Smiling, you gasp, your head dropping forward as he gently holds your hips and thrusts in and out of you, "Fuck... God Tom you... fuck..." Tom chuckles at your broken statements, watching you bite your lip, and your eyes roll back in your head, his lips turning up in a wide smile, "Still so fucking stunning." The metal of his three rings, a matte black Lashbrook E8D, a meteorite and whiskey barrel band, and a platinum Cartier D'amour band and the cold leather of his stainless steel, Master Ultra Thin Moon, Jaeger-LeCoultre watch that he'd spent a good amount of time this morning debating if he should wear, presses against your skin and he listens to you hum. Pulling back on your hips, he leans in and presses his palms over both breasts, "I want... to buy more lingerie for you. I want you to have... more for special... occasions." He practically pants as you reach up to press your hand to his own. You buck your hips back against him, "Tom... you're wearing... four pieces of jewelry right now... and all of them total up... to nearly fifteen thousand dollars. I can't... imagine how much... the lingerie you want to buy me costs." You rasp out between moans. He chuckles in your ear, "Around five hundred but... who's counting?" "Me... what have I told you about... buying for me?" He forces himself deeper, his hand snaking up to your throat when you cry out, your head falling forward. Leaning in he growls through grit teeth, "Didn't hear you complain when a box of sex toys arrived at your door all those months ago." His smile in the mirror is devious when your cheeks and clavicles flush a deep red. You could remember that day. He hadn't answered the phone immediately, having to sneak into a bathroom during his internship and answer with a whispered hello where he'd practically got you screaming at him, wondering why there was a box of various colored and sized dildos, vibrators and even a few fleshlights for him, meticulously packed in a black, unmarked box and laying on your bed before you. He'd just smiled, chuckling out a reply about the two of you having fun before demanding that you give him twenty minutes before he went on his lunch break so you could use a particularly long and thick dildo, a cum tube included for the first time over the phone. And that was the first time the two of you had had phone sex. A harsh slap to your ass brought you from the nostalgic memory, "Naughty girl. Did you just grow wetter thinking about the contents of that box? You quite liked some of those toys huh? Loved the way my eyes sparkled when fake cum dripped from your pretty little pussy. Loved the way I pounced and fucked it back up into you, huh?" He doesn't mistake your nod, squeezing your throat just the slightest before his hand slides down your chest and back to your hip, his eyes locked on his cock, now glistening in your slick. His heart stutters in his chest when you whimper, his hand slipping down to your thigh, lifting it up onto the counter, "The way you had... no shame in fucking that fleshlight that first time. Like you'd... done it before." "I had." He leans in to whisper in your ear. Leaning back into him, you can feel his fingertips dig into your hips, your eyes locking over your shoulder, "In front of another girl?" You pant out. He hums, "Well no." "Good. I better be the only girl you do that for." You reply sternly. Reaching around, he strokes your clit, nipping at the shell of your ear, "Always. Only for you my girl." Reaching up, you stroke his cheek, moaning for him. After a few more heart pounding moments, he reaches across to hold your bottom, drawing back until his tip slips out of you before pressing back in. He does it a few times, loving the way your slick sounds each time your pussy clenches down around him and then releases him. He loved the way you whimper and whine, his name thrown into the mixture before he completely pulls back, grabbing your arm and careening you back into the handicap stall, your back pressed against the tan, brick wall. Placing your hand at his shoulder, you both glance down to watch him guide his cock back inside of you, Tom drawing your knee up into the crook of his elbow, his hand placed at your hip. You meet eyes when you gasp, Tom giving a loving smile, "I can never get over you. You're fucking stunning." Giggling, you bite your lip and moan when he starts to thrust into you again, "Can't keep your hands off of me. What are we gonna do with you?" Grabbing your ass in both hands, he pulls you closer to him, your arms falling around his neck, hands pressed between his shoulder blades. Leaning in, his teeth sink into the skin of your neck, "No lovebites. I have to go back to work Tom." "I'm almost there." He grunts, reaching around to stroke you clit, continuing to nip and suck at your neck, "No lovebites Tom. They'll send me home." You gasp. He growls, "You can come back to mine. Finish this." "I can't Tom..." he groans, drawing back and kissing up your throat and under your jaw. Pulling your hips more firm against his, he grunts, "Tell me again." He whispers in your ear again. You moan, "What?" "Tell me again. Tell me what you told me that day." "What day?" "That day in the boutique... after I told you I wanted to fuck you." Your brain is filled with all the things you said to him, the rude and less. All the things you did to him. The angry fuck that ensued after you'd walked away from him and got lost only for him to find you and lead you back to his car where your clothes were abandoned for half an hour in his backseat. But you know exactly what he was talking about. "If you can shut up long enough and put those hands to better use than dishing out your money I think I can manage to open my legs for you." His skin breaks out in goosebumps beneath your hands, his hips stuttering for just a moment before they speed up, his fingers pinching your clit. When you whimper, he leans in, his lips pressed to yours in a rushed, hungry kiss, "Oh fuck... Tom." Your high is building and Tom knows. He can feel you clenching down around him, your legs starting to shake. Rearing back and swatting at your bottom, grunting as your head falls back against the wall, "Tom-" "I know baby." Drawing your other leg up into his arm, he lifts you, carrying you back to the counter which he sets you on. Dropping your legs, he holds your knees to his hips, pounding into you. You squeal and bury your face in his neck, digging your nails into his arms. He groans, "Fuck. Cum for me." He growls in your ear. "Baby-" "Cum for me darling. Just like you did in the backseat of my car. Say my name." Curling your toes and clutching him tight in your hands, your head falls back, flopping as he continues to thrust up into you, his tip gently skirting along your g-spot, "Tom." You gasp out. He hums, leaning in to suck at your skin again, just over your collarbone where he knows no one will see. "Tommy." You press, fingertips on one hand digging into his shoulder while the other hand slips down to hold his bottom, the coil in your belly so close to snapping. Tom watches your head fall back again and you cry out, reaching up to give his hair a harsh tug when he reaches around to toy with your clit again. When you scream, his name slips past your lips and your legs quake in his hands. He spirals over the edge, spilling the contents of his orgasm into his condom with a growl, his chest pressed against yours nearly knocking you into the sink. "Fuck baby." You pant out, leaning in to kiss his cheek when your haze is gone. He hums, binding his arms around you, "Yeah... fuck." His lips press into a tight line when you reach up to brush fallen curls from his eyes, "You're good. Really good." He nods, "So I've been told. Hey... that reminds me... ive been meaning to ask you something." Gently drawing back, he pulls out and slides the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the small bin while you start to pull your bra back on, "Ask me what?" He turns, taking his boxers from your hands and stepping into them, "I'm headed to Seychelles to accompany my dad on a business conference. We're staying in separate rooms on the beach and I..." You look up at him, his eyes finding yours, "I want you there with me." You nod, "I could go for a beach week or... however long. You gotta let me know when it is so I can ask for it off." He nods, "I think it's just a little over two weeks. I'll text my dad, give you an answer by the time your shift is over." You nod, buttoning your skirt and smiling when Tom's arm bind around your middle, "Love it when you scream my name pretty girl." You giggle, placing your hands over his arms, "I know you do handsome. I love you." He smiles, leaning back when you turn your head, "Love you too. I wish you'd let me buy more for you. I find some beautiful things and I'm cut off... ya know?" You nod, finding the right end of your work shirt, moving out of his arms to slide over your head, "I know, I know. I just... I want us to be in love without material things. There's no need for all these fancy things in life. I feel like I'm being bought into loving you and I don't want to. I love you more than anything and all these numbers being thrown my way on price tags... the dresses, the necklaces and promise rings, the trips and souvenirs and all... its nice to have memories... yes, it's nice to be spoiled every once in a while but you don't have to buy me." "I know baby, I know I just... sometimes I see things that I know you'd love but I can just see myself getting yelled at for buying them. I just wish you were more blinded by my money." Taking hold of his face, you bring it to your own, the tips of your noses touching, "I wouldn't yell at you. I'd scold you but... I have lingerie on that you bought me and my nails are done with your money. I enjoy it sometimes but... I gotta stay humble... and keep you down to earth. Can't have you bein an airhead with that ego." He smiles, holding your hips. He nods, "Yeah, I get it. I love you." "I love you too." You coo, leaning in to kiss him, "But I got a job to do. My half is almost over and if I'm a minute late I'm gonna get in so much trouble." He chuckles as you pull the small bag from the trash can, "Disposing of the evidence eh?" "Hey I’m just looking out for you. Someone use this to try and frame you for child support and all." He follows you out, still buttoning his shirt and crinkling his nose, "Gross." You giggle, tossing the bag into the dumpster and trailing further to the open double doors of the banquet hall, "Hey but uh... who do I have to bribe for you to serve dinner to our table?" Fixing his collar and helping his tuck his short in his slacks, you tsk, "Me, I'm already serving you guys." Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out his money clip, counting out a hundred and offering it up. He chuckles when you roll your eyes and swat at his hand, "One, what did we just talk about? Two, you should not carry that much cash. Three-" He cuts you off with his lips against your own again, "Lemme guess, you're not a whore that can be paid for." "Exactly." He nods, "I was kidding." You nod back, smoothing his shirt down, "I'll see you in like an hour and a half okay? Just in case I don't pay attention to you." He nods, placing his hand at your lower back and holding you close as he pecks your lips, "Yeah, I love you." "Love you too rich boy."

Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998

[smuttymess]

bts astro soulmate reading | for taylor

sign: pisces sun | gemini moon | aries rising

lover: Jeon Jungkook | soulmate: Kim Taehyung

This reading is for Taylor, a Yoongi bias who regularly gets wrecked by Taehyung. You’re my first Pisces, and a a fellow Pisces I was super excited to write this one. Maknae pairings are also pretty rare for me, so this was a particularly fun writing experience. Hope you enjoy, love!

This particular water-air-fire star sign combination is one of pure dreaminess, sensuality, intuition, and imagination. In your chart you possess a true astrological triple threat: your Sun in Pisces makes you one of the most emotionally capable beings in the Zodiac, your Gemini Moon gives you intelligence and dexterity, while your Aries rising provides a fire and drive that is almost unrivaled. As a result, With your star placements, emotions run everything within your social, work, familial and love spheres. You feel deeply, Pisces, and your passion has no bounds when paired with your determined Aries Sun, which often overrides your generally logical Gemini Moon and makes you a fiery force to be reckoned with. Your Sun and Moon makes you hard-wired for spontaneity and impulsiveness, drawing energy from platonic and romantic love above all else. Given the intensity of all three signs, you are a lover who gives their all to whoever you are with, if only for the moment - Pisces/Gemini is notoriously flighty pairing and Aries is exceptionally hard to pin down to any form of commitment whatsoever. While this combination can make you appear restless and flighty to others, deep down you are a diehard romantic, craving true partnership and emotional connection with a very special someone(s). You will not, however, settle down until you feel you have met your perfect other half - someone who respects and appreciates you and the breadth of your mystic, unconventional nature. Until then, you're happy to explore all that the world has to offer.

Your Gemini/Aries combination means you are always on the go, both physically and mentally. Generally, you go where your spirit moves you, constantly seeking out your next challenge or adventure. When something - or someone - piques your interest, you are often not too slow to act and make it known. So when a man, clad head to toe in black leather, stops his motorcycle on the street in front of you, you're interested in seeing what lies under his helmet. Words are almost lost on your when you realize how attractive he is, boyish charm beneath a strong jaw and athletic build, as he asks you for directions to a nearby restaurant. His wide, doe-eyed stare and charming, innocent smile is enough to make your Pisces heart melt, and your Aries go-getter doesn't want the interaction to stop there. Your unmatched communication skills work to get the shy man to open up, perhaps feigning an interest in motorcycles just for the hell of it. Whatever plans you had for the night (likely dinner with a friend or another commitment) are immediately on hold when mystery man introduces himself as Jeon Jungkook and you suggest teach you more about his bike when he has time. Surely, your friend will understand your tardiness, or at least you hope so - this is not the first time you've been late because of a handsome stranger and with your romantic Piscean nature it certainly won't be the last.

Over the next few weeks, once you finally pull the Virgo away from his work, you and Jungkook are able to enjoy the pleasures of a budding relationship. The Virgo/Pisces relationship is one of a slow build towards romance, the Virgo moving with full intention in everything he does without hesitating to let you know he is slow, pragmatic and deliberate when it comes to love. This works out quite well for your Aries rising, which enjoys a bit of a chase - who doesn't like a challenge? Your Gemini/Aries works in overdrive to crack the code of this enigmatic man, rather quickly your intuitive Pisces Sun seeing past his more reserved exterior. Its not uncommon for the Pisces lady to fall for her Virgo man far before he does, falling for the gentle, sensitive Venus in Libra and Jupiter in Aquarius that lies beneath the surface - a side that he keeps close to his heart. The times that you feel most connected to him are during sex, one of the few places where he fully lets go and lets himself be truly vulnerable, though he still strives for perfectionism. When Pisces and Virgo finally get together, Pisces brings the highly sensual, emotional passion wherein Virgo brings stamina, vigor, and determination. While Virgo is not known to be animalistic, Jungkook's Mars in Scorpio makes him impulsive while his Venus in Libra gives him a softness, meaning you get both a sensitive and dynamic lover. You and Jungkook are able to enjoy countless nights together in bed, the incredible strength of his body against yours as your legs rest on his shoulders while he trusts into you, his stare filled with an undeniable fire as you lock eyes and your foreheads touch. In that moment, wherein his moans become more desperate and sweet words pour from his lips that you feel you belong to each other.

When you're not having sex, the ideologies of you and Jungkook are often at odds, the differences starting off mild but becoming more pronounced as you get to each other on a deeper level. Pisces mantra is "what will be will be" while Virgo more often than not lives by "I decide what will be," and while you adore Jungkook's strength you begin to believe that he is too rigid for his own good. Though your fantastical nature and sense of unpredictability is what draws you to him, his Leo Moon and Uranus in Aries does not bode well with too much indecision, making him appear more headstrong and impatient as your relationship moves further. Over time, you begin to sense his increased frustration, occasional coldness, and Virgo moods - especially when he is under heavy stress, which happens often. Your Pisces Sun innately wants to to pull him out of his rigid ways or away from his video game, while your Gemini/Aquarius wants to flee and avoid any conflict or drama. You feel misunderstood by JK, whose Sun and Mercury in Virgo deeply values logic and rationality while you prefer to act on your emotions, resulting in frequent miscommunication that drives you into increased separation. Ultimately, your overly-contrasting approaches to life, work and love prove to be incompatible, forcing you to part ways. This is not an easy breakup, however, as you know that beneath his Virgo ego and celebrity is an emotional soul who could have been everything you wanted if he were it not for his Venus in Scorpio, marked by self-consciousness and a fear of love. A pairing of this kind is likely to stay in contact, if only to check in on each other occasionally to make sure they are healthy and well, never forgetting the emotional impact they had on one another.

After a brief retreat in your inner Pisces world, your Aries/Gemini inspires you to start a new chapter, healing through connections with new people and business prospects, your vast network opening you up to various creative initiatives. It is in one of these spaces where you're introduced to Kim Taehyung. This is a pairing that may begin first as collaborators on an intensive project - perhaps his next solo track - which requires spending a great deal of time with each other to ensure each element is perfect. A Piscean loves nothing more than a good mystery, and from the moment you meet Taehyung and see his deep, brown eyes under his curls you are highly intrigued. His earthy Capricorn Sun makes him warm but stoic in his disposition, possessing a subdued persona and a cool, quiet confidence that you can't quite figure out. You are taken aback by his intelligence, fostered by his Uranus in Capricorn, which he illustrates with calmed reason and without any ego or cockiness. In getting to know each other professionally, you bond over your shared charisma towards the unique and unconventional - his Venus in Aquarius pairing nicely with your eccentric placements. Your Pisces/Gemini combination makes you one of the most imaginative and creative people on the planet - your mind constantly racing towards your big idea. Taehyung's Neptune in Capricorn and Venus in Aquarius makes him equally creative and whimsical, becoming a true supporter of your out-of-the-box ideas. Taehyung, while perhaps not saying much, enjoys sees your mind at work and more importantly knows exactly how to harness that fire and make it bloom into tangible results. Your intuitive nature is able to target Tae's desires and come up with a myriad of possibilities for his song, making his eyes sparkle with excitement as he grows more interested in your opposing yet complimentary personas. It is unlikely that you ever could resist falling for Tae at the start, your Aries/Gemini patience wanting to jump his bones almost immediately while your Pisces struggles to let things flow and develop naturally. Unfortunately, in true ram fashion, Taehyung takes his time in pursuing anything outside of the professional space, waiting until the collaboration is over before asking you to dinner - as if you hadn't been waiting for months.

Where you are the dreamer, Capricorn Taehyung is the doer. Together, your playful souls can work together to make your many visions a reality. You inevitably fall in love with each other's minds, valuing open-mindedness and creativity on a higher level. This extends into your sex lives, A powerful trait of your Pisces nature if to bring the often stubborn Capricorn out of his shell and into your fantasy world. Any logic, reasoning, or methodology the ram may want to apply to sex goes completely out the window when in the presence of the sexually experimental, curious fish. It is your Aries/Gemini that makes the first move, your body aching for him by the time you get him into his bedroom. Tae's Moon in Aries makes him quite intense, eyes igniting with lust as you sit him down on a chair in his bed, your hands moving down the length of your neck and down your belly, stopping short of your inner thigh. You possess an innate ability to light his skin on fire with a simple touch, sauntering over to kiss him gently before you move down to his neck and his ear. Few things give you more pleasure than watching him lick his lips, his eagerness to grab your hips as you stand above him almost overwhelming. He adores the way you can completely dictate the mood, a smirk forming on his lips as he realizes he is at your mercy while he is allowed to look but not touch until you say so. Once you get him going, he is more than happy to turn the tables on you, tossing you onto your back as your robe falls own, a low growl escaping his mouth he moves in between your thighs. You practically melt when his more impulsive and powerful Uranus in Capricorn emerges, his voice deepening as he teases you mercilessly until you beg him to fill you up. Sex is always an opportunity for you to connect on a level deeper than the physical, and while this is something that the Pisces woman would typically initiate, the Capricorn lover always along for the ride. You're insatiable, love. What am I going to do with you, hmm?

Ultimately, the world you and Taehyung build together is one of whimsy and stability, water and earth coming together to create your own little world of wonder and possibility. Whenever Tae gets in his perfectionist, stubborn work modes your fiery Aries is able to to give him the space you both require, independence being a key factor in what makes this specific pairing work. He is a workaholic, and you are a go-getter, so while you may grow restless at times wanting to spend time with him, there is a mutual understanding and appreciation of this shared drive. Such respect for autonomy allows you to merge after you've checked off the many items on your to-do list and enjoy quality alone time: private, silly dance parties in your secluded home or over a glass of wine overlooking your expansive grounds overlooking acres of farmland. You two are the couple that people are curious about in your enigmatic nature, constantly wondering what you are thinking or what venture you will move on to next. At the end of the day, you do not need the world to understand everything about this love - they likely never could!

[asgardlover75]

Steal Away

So I decided to venture outside of my comfort zone and write a short.  And, if you’re gonna go big then why not start with Mimi’s One Hit Wonder challenge.  I chose Robbie Dupree’s Steal Away because it’s one of my favorite songs from the 80′s, which honestly isn’t saying much.  I’m a sucker for good and bad 80′s music.  

Pairing - Bucky X OFC

Warnings - None

Word Count - 1911

Synopsis - Bucky is at a wedding.  

@captain-rogers-beard​ congrats on reaching the milestone!

Weddings in this century never ceased to confound him. People were much crazier, mostly in a good way, and there definitely wasn’t as much stuffiness as there was back in the day. He’d been to quite a few in the last handful of years and the one he was currently attending was no exception.  Jacket slung over the back of his seat, the knot of his tie resting in the center of his chest, he probably looked disheveled but didn’t care.  His hair that had once been tied back completely in a bun, was now bent on escaping one piece at a time.  

Bucky stretched his legs out in front of him, slouching down in his chair and crossing his aching legs at the ankle. The chair was extremely uncomfortable but his guess is that they weren’t meant to sit in for long.  The atmosphere of the room was one of happiness and while he did share in the feeling he was not about to join in the craziness he had been viewing all night.  

All around him tables were empty but littered with various purses and jackets and the remnants of dinner being cleaning up by the event staff.  He tipped the beer he was nursing up to his lips and chuckled at those dancing on the floor.  Cheesy music has been playing over the speakers all night, multi-colored lights dancing around to the beat of whatever song was playing.  

He was genuinely enjoying himself right now surrounded mostly by his ‘family’.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched the mass of bodies on the floor react to the current song that was playing.    

A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit softer now A little bit louder now A little bit louder now A little bit louder now

A slow song eventually came on and the bodies on the floor dispersed, drifting back to their seats or to refresh themselves with another drink.  A few people headed his direction and he felt a warm sensation envelop him.  Wanda, MJ and Maria were giggling as they neared, arms linked together and faces flushed from their antics on the floor.  The three women sat heavily in their seats, reaching for their drinks as they continued talking.  

Wanda met his gaze and smiled.  

“She went to get some water.  Said she’d be right back.”  She was yelling over the noise of the room but he had no issues hearing her.   Bucky simply gave her a nod and returned to his people watching as he waited.  Now that there had been a mass exodus of the dance floor he could see across the room.  Steve stood with Nat, Bruce and Rhodey, his best friend’s right arm waving as he had told a story, the group laughing at his words.  His left arm was wrapped around Nat, who wore a radiant smile, her affectionate gaze not on the man talking, but the one standing next to her.  Bruce held a drink in his hand, probably some sort of juice if Bucky had to guess, and was listening intently to the big blonde man.  

Bucky smiled when Bruce reached over slowly to grab Nat’s hand.  He made no move to pull his now wife from one of their closest friends. It always amazed him how casual the group was in their affection.  Though it had taken him a while to be comfortable with touches other than Steve’s, the group had finally broken through his shell.  Now Nat and Wanda were free to ruffle his hair or skim a hand over his back as they walked past him and he didn’t jump in surprise.

The ceremony had been short and thankfully not stuffy, the perfect thing for a former spy and a man with breathtaking anger management issues.  Tony had ordained himself so they could limit the amount of people at the actual ceremony, and because Tony loved being the center of attention.  He had been brief with his words, a surprise, but definitely managed to get a few jabs in here and there.  Bruce and Nat had only wanted their closest friends to be with them and even though the reception had a few more people it definitely wasn’t a huge affair.

Movement to the left of the dance floor caught his eye and he couldn’t help the grin that split his face at the person walking his direction.  Long blonde hair fell over tanned shoulders, left bare by her dress.  Her normally average height was adjusted by the hot as hell red heels she wore on her feet.  Those heels had almost made them late to the damn ceremony after she had pulled them out of the closet earlier.  Only the promise of leaving them on when they got home allowed them to get out the door.  

The colorful flowers that adorned the white dress came into sharper view the closer she moved to the table.  A modest V-neck only hinted at what he knew was underneath and the skirt fell to mid-calf as he watched it swish around her.  Bucky’s eyes rose to meet her gaze and his grin deepened at the happy look on her face.  Walking up to his left side, she leaned into him, bending down to kiss his lips gently and run her right hand against the side of his head.  

“Hey handsome.  You keeping yourself entertained over here without me?”  She asked, her affectionate gaze warming him.  Bucky wrapped his metal arm around the top of her legs and squeezed gently, pulling her body into his.  

“I’m better now that you’re back.”  He murmured, her chuckle warming him from the inside.  

Jordan had quickly become a figure in their little group after she started at Stark Industries.  While she might be beautiful on the outside, inside she was a fucking genius with numbers and schedules.  She had quickly earned her place working with Pepper and had eventually started working on Avengers accounts after proving herself invaluable.

She was always outgoing and kind to the others and hadn’t even fan-girled over any of the team when she finally met them. Cool, calm and collected was her mantra at work but Jordan was definitely a girl that liked to have fun. Wanda had invited her to game night about six months after she started and the rest was history.  

It had taken her a bit of time to get Bucky to relax when she was around but eventually she won him over.  She arranged a tour, behind the scenes, at the Hayden planetarium in the city or his birthday after Nat had let it slip that Bucky was a huge space nerd.  Jordan hadn’t hesitated to use the resources at her disposal to give the man who had been through so much a day he would remember for a long time.  If anyone deserved the experience, it was Bucky she had told Pepper.

Now, two years later, she was as much a part of the group as anyone else and sometimes helped them prepare for missions.  It helped that she was as big a nerd as the rest of them, though her drug of choice was music.  There had been many times Bucky had found her in Tony’s lab arguing with him about some band or type of music at insane hours of the day. The talks with Sam were more civilized and she had definitely broadened the horizons of two super soldiers in the area of music.  

Bucky drained his beer and placed the bottle on the table.  Standing, he pulled Jordan closer, his lips covering hers in a gentle kiss as pulled her towards the floor.  A slow song had just started and he hadn’t danced with her yet tonight.  She followed without complaint, despite how tired she was from the dancing she had been doing so far.  

Pulling her flush with his body, Bucky settled his hands on her hips, burying his nose in her neck.  He felt a calm settle over him, her arms coming up to wrap around him, hands linking together under his bun.  His eyes slid closed as he felt her humming the current song that was playing, and he just existed for a bit.  

They danced through two songs like this before he lifted his head and smiled down at her.  The noise around him came back into focus and he felt weariness seep into him. As much as Bucky was enjoying holding Jordan on the dance floor he really was reaching his quota for being around other people for the night.  Sighing deeply, he turned his head to place a kiss on her temple then spoke quietly in her ear.  

“You wanna get out of here?”

“You mean steal away?”  Bucky gave her a confused look, especially considering Jordan seemed to be holding back a smile.  Hesitantly, he decided to play along.

“Yeah.”

“So you wanna steal away, into the night?”  Her mouth tilted up into a slight grin causing his left eyebrow to raise.

“Yeah doll.  That's what I said.”

“Hmm. Well that doesn’t seem right.” Jordan murmured, a look of concentration on her face.  It took two seconds for him to realize what was happening.

“What the....it’s another damn song isn't it?” She finally did laugh, out loud, a chagrined look on her face.  Jordan had the insane ability to make mundane or simple comments from others into a song.  If someone said turn around, she was singing Bonnie Tyler without missing a beat.  

“Yes.  One of my favorites.   I'm sorry.  I can’t help myself.”

“I know babe I just wish I got the damn references more. So who is this song by?”

“Robbie Dupree.” 

“What else does he sing?  Anything I would know? That you’ve forced me to listen to.”  Jordan smacked his arm at the cheeky comment but answered his question anyway.  

“Nope.  He was a one hit wonder.”

“A what?”

“That is the only song that was a hit.  The rest of his stuff sucked.  Or at least someone thought so. “

“That's harsh.”

“I don’t make the rules.  I just enjoy the songs.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his head shaking at her words and pulled her close to finish dancing to the current song.  When it came to an end, he moved back to leave the floor, the notes of the next song starting softly.  Before he moved two steps Jordan laughed loudly, causing him to turn and look at her in confusion.  

Leaning close to him, she told him to listen and watched his face as the words register to him.  He laughed, changing direction and pulled her back against him as they listened.    

“Well that’s ironic.”   Bucky joked, pulling Jordan closer.

“Not really.”  Her words confuse him until he looks over in the direction she is. Steve is standing there, talking to a group of people with a smile on his face.  He takes a drink of his beer and nods his head slightly as if to acknowledge it was his doing.  

“Sneaky super soldier.”  

“Are you complaining?”

Bucky gazes down into her face, his lips turning up in a half grin.  

“Hell no doll.  I owe the punk now.  Let’s go home so I can get a closer look at those damn heels.”

Steal Away

Robbie Dupree

C'mon and hold me Just like you told me Then show me What I want to know

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night I know it ain't right Tease me, why don't you please me Then show me What you came here for

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night I know it ain't right Into the night babe Make it tonight ooohh

I caught you glancing my way And I know what you're after (no second chances tonight)

Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Why don't we steal away Into the night

I know it ain't right Into the night I know it ain't right Why don't we steal away I know it ain't right Into the night, babe Why don't we steal away Make it tonight Why don't we steal away