#songs imprinted on my memory because of school: this and that 'happy' song they played every friday my senior year of high school

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

@cyclonestudios-alt you have made me feel very old

this song was everybody's favorite/least favorite song when I was 13 in middle school.

here. the ancient texts.

you would not believe this song has been here for quite so long and that tomorrow’s its date of birth

nine years in a waking dream and now with a comeback meme the parodies spring up from all round the earth

[barbiewritesstuff]

Chapter 6: Malibu

-- Right, so this is the last chapter for Malibu, writer's block hit me pretty hard yesterday and it was still kind of there when I write this, I know this isn't my best work but I hope you still like it!

Taglist: @lgg5989 @hangmanssoulmate @pearcywritten  (I think I tagged everyone, sorry if I missed anyone) --

Your transfer order arrived the next Monday in the post.  

The neat little envelope with the typed answer to your impulsive decision seemed to mock you. It was sitting against the sugar on the breakfast table, taunting you as you sipped your coffee. You stared at it, as though it would somehow change the fact that wherever you would go, it would be away from Jake. You snatched it from its spot and tore it open. 

Washington DC.  

You had been once with school and you vaguely remembered enjoying it, especially the Georgetown University campus you had visited with your friends on your only free day. It was strange to think back to all of this. Your life had been so different then, and you’d had different plans. It was hard to remember why you had even gone into the navy or what you had thought while doing that. It was hard to remember anything before Jake, really.  

There had been boyfriends, parties and college exams but it felt more like a sad prequel to a romance movie. Too bad yours wouldn’t end in a happy ending, you thought, because you were confident Jake didn’t like you back.  

You were friends, nothing more.  

It meant nothing when Jake plucked out the pickles from his sandwich and placed it on your plate, even though they were the only reason he bought the sandwich in the first place. It meant nothing when he put a quarter in the jukebox and played a song you liked even though he thought it was absolute garbage. And it meant nothing when Jake stopped calling you Malibu and started calling you Y/n instead. None of it meant anything other than friendship, and everything broke your heart a little more. Because hearing Jake say your first name made your heart beat a mile a minute and made your mind think of things you absolutely should not have been thinking about a friend.  

You weren’t sure how you were meant to keep on living like this, and luckily or heartbreakingly, you didn’t have to. You were going in a day. Your plane left in the early hours of the morning. The navy’s promptness was usually nice, you never had to wait long for an answer to a question, but this time you wished they would have taken more time. And given you more time to soak him up, to find excuses to touch him, hug him. More time to pluck up the courage to kiss him, even if it was just on his cheek again.  

That kiss had made everything so much worse. It had imprinted his skin and morning stubble straight onto your lips. You could think of nothing else and while thinking of him had been business as usual for about six years, at least before you had been blissfully unaware. Now, the only piece of information your brain had deemed necessary to your survival was the intimate knowledge that Jake Seresin’s skin was soft as silk and his stubble was prickly and perfect.

 

Jake was pretty sure the kiss you had left on his cheek had burned into his skin. The idea that your lips had been anywhere on his body was ever present in his brain. It was debilitating. And yet, he couldn’t get enough of it, he thought of it when he was awake and dreamt of it when he slept. He ate, slept, worked out and flew with the memory of your kiss wallpapered onto his brain. With that simple gesture you had somehow moved into his mind and made yourself cozy. You lived there now.  

He was fucking drunk on you.  

He had what he wanted, the two of you were friends now. You stuck to him like toilet paper to a shoe and somehow his heart didn’t think it was enough. It wanted more, it craved more. Jake was sure his heart would soon threaten to stop beating if he didn’t do something.  

But he couldn’t because he was fairly certain you didn’t like him back. 

Because when he gave you the pickles from his sandwich even though they were his favourite part, you didn’t understand that it meant I love you. When he played that godawful song on the jukebox just to see you smile, you didn’t understand it meant please love me back. And when he called you by your first name and bit the head off of everyone who dared calling you Malibu in his presence, you didn’t understand that it meant please stay with me. And so Jake had to conclude that you just didn’t feel the same way.  

How did people deal with heartbreak ? 

He had a vague idea that maybe he should cut ties with you, tell you that you were a nice girl, but maybe being friends wasn’t a good idea after all. He had typed the message and then deleted it again at least three times now, absolutely aware that he was never going to send it to you, because if anyone had to break his heart he would rather it be you.  

« Transfer order came in. I leave at 3am tomorrow. Help me pack ? » was the text he received a second later, as if the universe had taken his previous thought as a challenge. Ever the masochist, he replied 

« I’ll be there in ten. Want Starbucks ? » 

 

 

You were in your room when the sudden urge to cry almost overwhelmed you. You hadn’t packed much, but the idea of spending a day folding it all nice and neatly to leave Jake and never come back was making the task harder than it should have been.  

He arrives, your favourite drink in hand and you realise that this is so much worse than not having company. He hands you the drink, and the surprise cupcake he bought (I love you, he thinks) and you eat it on the floor of your borrowed bedroom. 

« How are you and Lucky ?» 

« It’s complicated » 

« You know what just occurred to me ? » He asks, leaning his head back on the mattress behind you « I don’t know much about you before the navy » 

« There isn’t much to know » You say, he stares 

« Fine. » You sigh « I am from New England, I attended school there and then moved to California after college. » 

« Do you have any siblings ? » 

« Yeah, a sister and three brothers » 

« You know, you should apply for the FBI. The way you just refuse to give any information at all would really make you a valuable asset » He jokes. 

You’re fighting the want to lay out all your life in front of him to avoid the heartbreak you’ll experience in twelve hours to seep through every single memory you have. You turn to him and you’re startled by the look in his eyes. It is piercing and intense, almost like he’s peering straight into your soul. You wonder if he likes what he sees.

His hand moves closer to yours until his pinky and yours touch, it stays there for a second until his fingers move to intertwine with yours and you strangle a soft gasp in your throat. You look away, and as does he. You stay like that, staring at the wall in front of you for a while, until the blush is gone from your cheeks and you have calmed your heart down enough.  

You look at him again, and he’s just eating his cupcake like holding hands with you is completely normal. And then you realise it is. You’re just friends. Friends hold hands, there’s nothing strange about it. You keep holding on even though you want to let go and run away until your heart feels something other than pain.  

« You okay ? » He asks. You nod, he moves his thumb to gently caress the skin on your hand. You feel the hairs on your body stand on end, you suppress a shiver but in doing so your breath hitches and he stops. 

 

Jake’s fairly sure you like him back. He knows he heard your breath hitch and now he looks at you he can see you blushing. The realisation makes his adrenaline surge and he’s so happy he forgets to do anything about it until you speak. 

« Do you want to go for a walk ? » You ask. He nods « Can we drive to the beach; I want to see it one last time before I leave » 

« We can take my car » He offers, one of his eyebrows raised. You’re feeling restless, like that simple touch of your hand shot a bolt of electricity right through you.  

He drives you to a walmart parking lot overlooking the beach and you lean against a bench. He stands next to you. Even against something, he towers over you.  

« Hey, are you okay ? » He asks 

« I don’t want to go. I really regret submitting that stupid transfer order now. I don’t want to leave you. » You say and he places a hand on your back to rub circles. 

« It’s lovely this time of year » He says.  

« Yeah, and lonely too »  

« I wouldn’t be so sure about that » He says, fishing out a white envelope from his back pocket and giving it to you. He stares out in front of him as the waves lap the sand, with a mischievous grin on his face. You tear it open faster than you have ever done and stare at the neatly typed words on the letter.  

« When did you do that ? » Is all you manage to say, he chuckled  

« About five minutes after I left yours a week ago. I pulled some strings » He says, still avoiding your eyes ; There’s a blush creeping on his cheeks and he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt.  

« And by pulled some strings, you mean… ? » You ask with a smirk  

« Oh yeah I begged Maverick until he gave in and talked to Cyclone for me » He admits, with a big goofy smile you want to kiss right off his face.   

You’re pretty sure he likes you back.  

You decide ‘fuck it’ and you turn yourself to face him. You chicken out a little, but he’s still smiling and looking straight into your eyes.  

« I’m waiting » He says so you don’t stand up to your tiptoes to kiss him and you playfully hit his chest instead. You turn back to where you were before crossing your arms over your chest with over exaggerated movements and pouting at the ocean, your bottom lip sticking out. It’s his turn to move and he does so with purposefully slow movements and his hands deep in his pockets. He pretends he doesn’t want to kiss you, like it’s a drag but the jig is up the second your hand touches his chest and you can feel how fast his heart is beating. He stands agonisingly close to you but doesn’t bend or lean down to you so you can kiss him and get to the bit you both really want.  

« I’m waiting » You tease. He laughs quietly  

Jake doesn’t know why he’s suddenly feeling shy or why he’s suddenly so nervous. He looks at the floor and quickly looks back up towards the sky when he realises that he’s standing so close to you that if he looks down the only thing he can see is what you’re hiding beneath your shirt.   

« Jake ! » You shout, smiling from ear to ear at his antics and his courage comes back with a vengeance as he captures your mouth with his. It is everything he imagined (and a little more), and once it starts, he doesn’t want it to stop. He removes his hands from his pockets to hold on to your waist and you snake your hands around his neck. You kiss till you both need to breathe.

"So… are we still friends?"

You roll your eyes at him and laugh

"No, no I have a valid question, hear me out" He continues "I understand you might not want to live with a new boyfriend"

"Ooh, are you my boyfriend now, then?" You laugh and he covers your mouth with his hand.

"Yes I am your boyfriend, shut up" he smiles "I understand you might not want to live with a new boyfriend, but maybe you're okay with living with a friend. So maybe, once we find something, we could move in together." He uncovers your mouth and gently kisses it.

"I suppose I could move it with a friend" you say and kiss him again.

You could spend your life kissing him, and hopefully you will.

[taketwoinink]

You guys (g) know the drill. Someone new followed me so- WE'RE MAKING A TAG GAME AND YOU'RE GOING TO BE TAGGED FIRST AS PUNISHMENT!

Current song you're listening to on loop rn: for me it's Know It All by the Band Camino

Favorite Color: purple, don't care much what shade! All things purple please

New random thing you've learned recently: Candle wax and sealing wax have differently properties. You can't use candle wax to seal letters with a stamp it doesn't get good imprints.

Thing you're most excited for rn: tbh, moving out *cri* but that's not going to happen until December at the earliest.

Newest hobby acquired: witchcraft! (I made a spell jar! It's pretty and has good vibes, also it smells like vanilla)

Rocks yes or no: yes

What's something someone said that's stuck with you since: My therapist taught me that your emotions can be conflicting and yet exist at the same time. You can be falling apart and yet have everything together at the same time and that's valid. You can be happy and not okay, etc.

What's your fondest memory from high school: Kit and I lip syncing aggressively together in math class (we never should have been allowed to sit next to each other lol, the chaotic energy is too high). I swear our teacher stopped playing our favorite lip syncing music until Kit was gone was day and then he played it, he knew, it probably bugged him but he never made us move (which is good because I needed Kit there to teach me slope, our math program sucked that year)

Favorite color to paint your nails: BLACK! Or this shimmery purple stuff I got recently since I don't have black nail polish

Weirdest dream you've had: just gonna quote myself from a Discord server here (for context Sunny is one of the mods) "I just remembered I had a really angsty dream involving Sunny last night. Someone said something that really upset her on accident (she was already having a really crappy day) and we were all trying to comfort her only Discord broke and wouldn't send any messages except for hers so she went on a rant and then disappeared and then suddenly all of our messages sent at once and it was chaos, messages were sending so quickly you couldn't even read any of them but Sunny had already left the server so I tried to send her a DM only I couldn't find her and no one else could either and the other mods were trying to keep everyone calm and it was just chaos and a lot of people were crying" (good news though it was just a dream and she was okay)

Favorite part of being on tumblr: Making new friends!

And now to tag. As promised @9-circles-of-l get in here as punishment for daring to follow me (unless you're too uncomfortable doing one of these then that's fine and I guess you're off the hook this time) @gemstarstarlight @thatfaecreaturee @skyisverybored @jinxneedssleep @earthtokit @ringnea

[laviefantasie]

I Think About You

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: Luke and Y/N had been the perfect couple, until they weren’t. Some things have definitely changed, but some feelings stay the same.

| MASTERLIST |

You sigh as you stare at the big doors of Los Feliz High School. Summer was officially over and the moment you had been dreading since then had finally arrived. This was the day that everything became real. No more avoiding the reality of your life.

You enter the school’s hallways with your head down, trying to cover most of your face with your beanie-free head. You wanted to avoid your friends for as long as you could.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see them, I mean Julie was your best friend, you just didn’t want to see him. Not after the breakup. You weren’t mad, you just weren’t ready, it still felt too soon.

You and Julie had been the best of friends since you moved to the house next door. Both of you connecting through music, always finding time to write songs together. That’s why when Julie was asked to join Sunset Curve — now Julie and the Phantoms — you were the first one she told and the first one to meet the guys.

Alex, Reggie, and Luke had instantly become of your liking which had sealed the deal for Julie to accept their offer, though as soon as the cute guitarist had taken the liberty to go through both of Julie’s and your stuff — even after you both had screamed at him about boundaries— he had found your songbook. After that, Luke would always go to you to talk about the songs for the band and then to write them with you. 

It had become a thing between you both.

Soon, songwriting dates became real dates and, as everyone predicted, you two started dating. But the band always came first to Luke — you knew that and always respected it— which meant that dates started to be missed unless it involved the band's songs.

It had become too much for either of you.

That’s why, after almost a year of dating, Luke and you had broken up with the promise of giving each other the summer to heal before having to put the band’s needs as their priorities. 

That’s why you hadn’t seen either of your friends, other than Flynn, through your whole summer.

Now though, the reality of the situation hit you with all its force. You and Luke were over.

With a sad sigh, you hug your songbook closer to your chest —the song you had written a few weeks ago feeling heavier in it— before making your way to your locker, which is located beside Julie's.

“Y/N”

You move your eyes to the source of your name, Julie staring at you with a soft smile before moving to hug you. You return the hug with a heavy sigh, you had definitely missed her.

“How are you?” she questions you as soon as she lets go.

You shrug your shoulders with a small smile before opening your locker, you didn’t want to be questioned about your mixed feelings right now. You were not ready for that.

“There is my underachiever and my failure”

Both you and Julie let out a laugh as Flynn positions herself in front of you both, you making sure to grab the books you needed before turning towards her with a smile.

“Hey, disappointment” Julie and you say simultaneously.

Soon, Flynn and Julie start to tell you about the summer gossip that they’d heard so far making you laugh as they mention Carrie’s Dirty Candy costume malfunction. Your smile disappears though as you see a hand position itself on Julie’s shoulder, a known leather jacket catching your attention.

“Hello, ladies”

Flynn and Julie smile at Reggie while you look at your surroundings in a slight panic, if Reggie was here it meant that the other two members of the band had to be close. You were definitely not ready.

“I... uh...” You stammer while starting to walk backwards, “I have... have to go to, uh... class! Yes! I have to go to class! See you at lunch!”

As fast as your feet allow you to, you run towards the music room knowing they won’t come after you and needing the quiet. 

You sit yourself down on the grand piano, letting out a heavy sigh as you do. How were you supposed to ignore your still very present feelings for the lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms if you had to socialize with him?

Your hands open your songbook on the song you had poured your feelings in before putting it in on the piano’s music rack. Your fingers soon grace the instrument’s keys as you build up the courage to play it.

With the thought of hazel-green eyes you allow yourself to play it.

“Last summer we met We started as friends I can't tell you how it all happened”

Memories of how Julie had introduced you both come to you at full force, his boyish grin forever imprinted in your mind.

“Then autumn, it came We were never the same Those nights, everything felt like magic”

It hadn’t taken you both too long for your friendship to become something more, every time you stayed up late writing songs and talking about anything that came to your minds had made sure of that.

“And I wonder if you miss me too If you don't is one thing that I wish you knew”

Before you can start the chorus you move your hands away from the piano your eyes filled with unshed tears. It was too much, too soon. You feel anger well up in your chest as you stare at the lyrics in front of you.

Without thinking about it, you rip the page out and crumble it before throwing it in the classroom’s trash.

Once that is done, you grab your stuff and leave the room in a hurry failing to notice the blond drummer that stood by the door with a broken look on his face.

He had heard and seen everything and he couldn't stop his heart from breaking after seeing how hard this was being on you. Especially since he knew how hard it was being on Luke too, even if he refused to show it.

With that thought, Alex enters the music room to grab the crumbled piece of paper from the trash. He was going to fix this.

Luke walked besides Reggie and Willie with a kicked puppy look through the school’s hallways, he was dreading the moment he had to see Y/N. Maybe breaking up hadn’t been the smartest idea, but he just didn’t want to hurt you anymore and he couldn’t make you his priority.

At least he thought he couldn’t.

After spending the whole summer without you things had changed. You had become his priority. You were all he could think about, you were what made him write and what stopped him from writing. You were his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night.

He had screwed the best thing he had and he didn’t know how to fix it, he didn’t even know if you’d want him back. You had been understanding when he had told you what he thought was best, even going as far as promising that the band wouldn’t be hurt by it only asking for the summer to be able to heal.

He had realized he loved you at that moment.

It had been too late though. And now, here he was walking through Los Feliz High School’s hallways without you by his side, a good enough reason to have a pouty face on.

That's why when Alex stopped his two best friends and boyfriend in the middle of their way to History class, Luke only glared at him. For once all the brunette guitarist wanted to do was listen to Mrs. Smith's awfully loud voice talk about World War II.

Although it seemed the blond didn't get the memo because he pushed a wrinkled paper to your hands, an urgent and hopeful look in his eyes.

Willie and Reggie look at the interaction with curiosity, Luke scoffing before looking at the paper. Eyebrows furrowing as he identifies the words as lyrics.

“I think about you every morning when I open my eyes, I think about you every evening when I turn out the lights” he reads in confusion “I think about you every moment, every day of my life. You're on my mind all the time, it's true”

He's about to push the paper back to the drummer's hands, his heartbreak feeling ten times worst after reading that song, but the realization that he knows that handwriting stops him.

That's Y/N handwriting.

That could only mean she had written this song, but Luke knew all your songs as he had gone through your songbook hundreds of times. That meant this one was recent.

"Does this mean what I think it means?"

Alex nods with a big smile, "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

Luke reads the lyrics again and again with a big smile while the three other boys stare at him with equally happy looks on their faces.

"I'm going to get my girl back"

Julie, Flynn, and you walk towards your usual table at the cafeteria with your trays of food. You felt your heart thumping loudly in your chest as you prepared yourself to sit across the guitarist that owns your heart.

Luck appears to be on your side as you three sit across from Willie, Alex, and Reggie with no sign on Luke. You let your gaze wander through the cafeteria, your eyebrows furrowing in worry as you don't see him anywhere.

Was he not eating with you guys? Was he not eating there because of you?

You start to feel sick at the thought, hating the idea that you could make him avoid his bandmates. You shake those thoughts aways, he wouldn't do that.

"Alex, Reggie" You gain their attention "Wh-where's Luke?"

They turn towards one another with uncertainty and that is the answer you need. Suddenly your food looks no longer appealing, so you stand up from where you are seated.

A conflicted look on your face.

"Y/N/N?" Whispers Julie in worry.

"I have t—I'm not hungry anymore"

Alex and Reggie share a look of worry before standing up too, "You can't leave!"

Their outburst has you and the other two girls looking at them in confusion. What the hell? Before either of you can question your weird best friends, the sound of an acoustic guitar has you and everyone else in the cafeteria shutting up.

Though what has you shutting up is the fact you recognize the melody. With confusion, you see Reggie and Alex smile at something behind you before turning around.

Coming through the cafeteria doors with his six-string is no other than Luke Patterson.

“Last summer we met We started as friends I can't tell you how it all happened Then autumn, it came We were never the same Those nights, everything felt like magic”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you hear his raspy voice sing the lyrics that you had written in tears when you had realized you were in love with him after losing him.

“And I wonder if you miss me too If you don't is one thing that I wish you knew”

He moves towards you, not once breaking eye contact. You hear Julie and Flynn let out excited squeals behind you but your focus is solely on the brunette boy walking your way.

“I think about you every morning when I open my eyes I think about you every evening when I turn out the lights I think about you every moment, every day of my life You're on my mind all the time, it's true I think about you, you you, you you I think about you, you you, you you”

Luke's green eyes take you all in. His heart feels lighter once he finally lays his eyes on you. Boy, he had missed you. Singing and playing came easier, heck breathing came easier with you.

Once he had read the song you had written he knew he still had a shot and he wasn't about to let it pass him. He needed you. He was in love with you.

“Would you know what to say If I saw you today? Would you let it all crumble to pieces? 'Cause I know that I should Forget you if I could I can't yet for so many reasons”

The girls at Los Feliz follow the lead guitarist with their eyes, jealousy and awe in display as they see him look towards Y/N with complete adoration in his eyes.

“I think about you every morning when I open my eyes I think about you every evening when I turn out the lights I think about you every moment, every day of my life You're on my mind all the time, it's true I think about you, you you, you you I think about you, you you, you you”

Reggie and Alex fist bump one another as they see Y/N take small steps towards Luke as he keeps walking to her. They definitely had done their jobs as best friends.

Willie interlacing his fingers with Alex's other hand, both sharing a loving smile as Luke finally stops in front of Y/N.

“How long 'til I stop pretending? What we have is never ending Oh, oh, oh If all we are is just a moment Don't forget me 'cause I won't and I can't help myself”

Both of you stared deeply at each other's eyes, green meeting e/c. Your heart flutters in your chest as you see the vulnerability in Luke's eyes as he sings your words to you, knowing he feels the same way as you expressed in that song.

“I think about you, ooh, ooh I think about you, ooh”

As the song nears its ending, Luke circles you with you following his movements. A sweet smile takes over your face as he looks at you with so much love.

You didn't think he'd ever look at you that way again and that had broken your heart, but here he was looking at you that way.

“I think about you every morning when I open my eyes I think about you every evening when I turn out the lights I think about you every moment, every day of my life You're on my mind all the time, it's true I think about you, you you, you you I think about you, you you, you you”

As soon as the song finishes, the students start clapping but neither of the two notice. Y/N and Luke are too busy looking at one another not knowing how to start.

Everyone watches in anticipation, some even recording the whole ordeal with excited smiles.

" Luke, I..."

Whatever you were gonna say is cut off by Luke's lips pressing against your own, both of you melting at the feeling of each other. Both of your hearts start thumping loudly as Luke moves his guitar to his back to position his hands on your waist to deepen the kiss.

All the people around you, especially your best friends, clap and squeal loudly in excitement. Luke and you breaking apart when you both are reminded you're not alone.

"I think about you all the time too" he whispers close to your lips.

Your smile grows before you capture his lips once more, not caring about all the people watching you. You both break the kiss only to hug one another close, suddenly both of your hearts feel lighter.

Neither of you thinking of letting go anytime soon.

[cosplayinamerica]

Spiderman from Marvel 1602 // Cosplayer: kammospark

Tell us about Spiderman1602, I’ve seen many versions of Spiderman but  thiis is a new one to me! What led you to this concept of this version of Spiderman?

Well I've always had an appreciation for lesser know outfits of popular heroes. Looking through many wardrobes and outfits, the obscure ones always stood out to me, "Wow, I've never seen this one before!" I'd think to myself, and I figured others who know the characters well would love to see them brought to life too, or even people curious about the stories of them would enjoy seeing it. I feel everyone has a love for Spider-Man; he's such an iconic superhero and has so many suits, and even though they can be quite diverse, they still feel recognizable as one of the Web-slinger's costumes.

While I was looking at different Spiderverse characters for inspiration on a new Spider-Man cosplay, I saw Marvel 1602 and it immediately caught my attention; I thought it was such a fun looking design. Definitely away from a modern or futuristic look, it's charm won me over, and I had to put it together. And as a fan of the fantasy genre in general, thanks to many years as a GM from D&D as well as other media, I also enjoy Ren-faires and wanted something to wear to show my love for Superheroes and Renaissance.

When you wore it out to conventions, what was the response? Obviously they knew you were Spiderman because of the mask but were they confused about the rest of your outfit? What were some of their guesses?

Oh people certainly get a kick out of seeing the outfit. Some people have called Me 'Lord Spider-Man', 'Ren-Spidey', 'William Spider-Speare', a lot of creative names for it that never fail to make me smile as much as it does for them. Whenever I wear a Spider-Man cosplay, I always want to try and take pics with as many Spider-Men as I can find, and most of the time it's the other Spiderman cosplayers that recognize who the character really is. I love having people laugh and get excited over the character, it's part of that Con Magic where people just can't help but feel like a kid when they see something that fills them with joy; its my favorite part of this fun hobby, just making someone's day memorable, even for a moment.

Besides conventions , I see you wore the costume to a Renaissance Fair. What was responses there? Was it different from conventions?

Ren-faires in general are a great time! And when I started this costume, I was excited just thinking of the reactions from people and how happy they may be. I've taken 1602 to quite a few Ren-faires: Central Coast Ren Faire, NorCal Ren Faire, and Kingsburg Renaissance of Kings.

The first place I ever debuted it was as CCRF, and I was stopped by about 20 people before I could make it past the first 3 booths. It really does feel like a different environment going to faires. D

uring them, I'd be a bit more 'theatrical' and introduce myself as Peter Parquagh, and try my best to make people smile or laugh. I've gotten the opportunity to meet many wonderful people and people with stunning and gorgeous Renaissance outfits. Kids come walk by amazed that they actually got to see a Spider-Man at a Ren Faire.

One instance, a bard played the spider-man theme song on a lute as he traveled around me. At two different faires my presence was requested by the Queen, and I was escorted to her, one even knighted me! Everyone just has a blast role playing and getting caught up in the fun, the energy is so infectious and delightful! 

Take us through how the outfit was put together?

Well, I cannot take full credit on the cosplay. My mother was actually a large part of it. Growing up, my mom was always really involved and loved making costumes for Halloween for me and my sister. And one of her favorite aesthetics is period piece era fashion and she loves Jane Austen.

As I was looking for ideas for a new cosplay and showing her, she was drawn towards 1602 and offered to do as much as she could to help create it, and she loved helping putting it together. The suit is a handmade outfit following a 14th century cavalier pattern. The design called for detachable sleeves and very baggy slops, but we decided to have the sleeves attached and slim down the slops slightly, to give it a mix of authentic and Spider-man's sleekness.

We went looking online and found this wonderful blue velvet fabric with Fleur De Lis imprinted onto it and thought it'd really help the outfit pop! We had to make sure we kept the fabric in the same direction: it has a difference in shimmer if facing a certain way, and we wanted the Fleurs facing the same way as well, so we tried to be mindful of that. We pleated the red fabric in the front and it was quite stubborn, but we tried our best to make it look similar on both sides of the torso. The back has a spider and has legs that lead unto the front; we cut out red fabric and hand-stitch embroidered on, and was quite meticulous.

Me and my mom kept an eye out online for just the right buttons we wanted for the costume. Something antique and era appropriate but also thematic, and after a while, we stumbled across a web-designed antique gold button set. We also looked for a thick ruff rather than the costumes original thin look. The original costume look also called for the mask to have open eye holes, but I opted out of that, and felt that a traditional mask look better complemented the costume. After that I acquired socks and shoes and then it was finished! 

How did you discover cosplay?

As mentioned earlier, my mom loved making mine and my sister's costumes growing up. She's a seamstress as a hobby, and is so creative and artsy. Halloween was probably my favorite holiday growing up, and I was so happy I got to wear something made with much love from my family. Some of my favorite notable costumes growing up was a knight, an astronaut, and Pikachu.

As I got older, around high school, I still liked the idea of costumes, even bought a cheap Captain America outfit for The Avengers premiere night, but I mostly dropped off on dressing up. I grew up in a very small town, but eventually, after I moved out to the city, I heard about 'conventions' and I was interested and wanted to try and wear something to one. I decided to make a classic Punisher costume, and wore it for the con. It was a small venue, but even then it finally hit me, 'This is a thing people do. People love to dress up, go make friends, bring smiles and show their love for their Fandoms and interests. THIS is what Cosplay IS'. I finally understood what this little hobby of mine was, and I embraced it.

Have you discovered something about yourself through cosplay?

I've always thought of myself as a people pleaser. I'm someone who really only want others to be happy. I'm also someone who loves to share their interests and engage with others about things that we can share and discuss and geek out over.

When I was young, I often felt left out from social circles, due to my often eccentric personality. I found it really hard to make friends, and I am forever grateful for the friends that I have made and been with me for years.

Cosplay has opened up another avenue as far as friends and socializing. My first couple of cons I was initially intimidated, but I have to say that I'm so glad I got into this hobby, for I've met many people with interesting stories and wonderful personalities, and people I still talk to often. It's really helped me feel like I can make good friends and memories, and I'm sure that others have felt similarly and that's something I treasure.

What are your future cosplay goals?

As with most cosplayers I'm sure, I have way too many projects in my head with very little work on a lot of them. I suppose my current goal is to rework the headpiece of a cosplay I finished last year, my Bioshock Big Daddy Doll. The head was massive and too cumbersome so it needs to be redone.

As far as new projects, I would very much like to do a Prince Link cosplay, inspired by the creation of theLostSindar. Another idea would be to do more superhero variants and make a Blue Lantern Flash that 8ve been eyeing for a couple of years.

One thing I definitely want to get good at is working with foam. I am massively inexperienced with foamsmithing, and I strive to learn how to be good at it and learn how to make wonderful things with it. It's just like when I first went to cons; starting off can be a bit scary or even overwhelming before we really get it going, but that exposure to things we really desire is all we need to get hooked and make it our passion.

https://www.instagram.com/kammospark/

[closertotheheartofthesunrise]

happy alyx day!!!!

i seem to perpetually have a lot going on so no special art for today unfortunately. :(  but here’s some renders I did in Maya the other day after I ripped her model - plus some smaller versions screencapped straight from the render viewport bc plain old “export render” didn’t export her hair materials as dark as they appeared. idk what’s up with that exactly...needs some more work.

Anyway.....LOTS of thoughts about bideo game under the cut

HI THANKS FOR CLICKING THROUGH??? TLDR I LIKE HALF LIFE A LOT AND I ALWAYS HAVE FOR SOME REASON. AND NOW IT’S BACK AND I STILL LIKE IT

It’s now one year to the day that I, watching a Discord channel full of Valve Index owners struggling to decompress their preloaded games, finally acknowledged that I was not going to be playing Half-Life Alyx on launch day. I was sitting at my little workstation at my family’s dining room table, steadfastly blocking out the homework I had to do, thinking unhappily of my Vive in its box on the floor in my school apartment. I had no computer with which to run a game as demanding as HLA, and no comfort but Kelly Bailey’s CSGO music pack, and a friend who was going to stream the game later. I deserved this, I thought. I deserved this more than any of you.

I have no way of knowing if I did or not. I was feeling pretty helpless at the time. My family’s kitchen table was not where I was supposed to be. It haunts me as I recall it – alone with my headphones and my laptop, sealed off, surrounded by a family struggling just as hard to adapt to a new kind of world. We were all packed in together, the specter of The Plague newly looming. I wanted so badly to escape – even a vacation to City 17 would have been a sweet relief. The Quarantine Zone – ha! Alyx didn’t know the half of it.

I joke that the reason I like Half-Life so much is because I played it too young and imprinted on it, like a baby bird. There’s truth at the bottom of that joke – I was deep enough in the Orange Box fanclub that I spent an entire year anxious for the release of Portal 2 after its announcement. In 2011 I was 12, so if memory serves, I had played Half Life 2 and its episodes before I was 11 years old. Too young? Maybe. I seem to have come out ok, but I wish I could play every game in the Orange Box for the first time with the experience and life context of who I am today. There are things you are less likely to understand or identify with when you’re a kid, and I’ll never get to experience Portal or Half Life 2 for the first time with that understanding.

That being said, I loved the games anyway. I directed the kind of fanaticism towards the games that only a child with unsupervised internet access, no responsibilities, and what likely should be an ADHD diagnosis can muster. I printed out a picture of GLaDOS and carried it around in my pocket, a budding artist’s reference photo. I vibrated in place every time I saw a crowbar. I drew lambdas on things. I had an ipod shuffle that I listened to in the car on the way to school – I loaded it with every Half-Life song, and Portal 2 music stems I ripped from the game with GCFscape. I had the general order of the playlist memorized, so that I knew if I skipped around and heard Vortal Combat, I was at the first song in the playlist, and I could click out of shuffle mode to go backwards to my newly added songs. The ipod had a button that spoke the names of songs out loud to you in a funny text-to-speech voice, because it didn’t have a screen. I can still hear it doing its best to handle those stems - “sp_a2_part2_coretransfer”, right?

But we’re here to talk about Half Life. For a period that may have lasted up to three years, it consumed me. I searched “half life 2 episode 3” and every possible variation up on google news a few times a week. I made my parents listen to the soundtrack. I have faint memories of trawling FF.N for fanfiction to occupy my little self, as well as a few forays onto Ao3. I spent most of my time on deviantart, although I couldn’t tell you what I was actually DOING on there, haha. I was digging through middle school notebooks a few days ago, and found a handful that were packed with Valve ephemera…unfinished and unfocused fanfiction, musings on how to mash Portal and Half Life canon together, fiction featuring actual Valve employees, unsteady drawings of hunters and Team Fortress 2 characters and how I thought Episode 3 was going to play out.

And then…I got tired. I graduated from 8th grade and discovered Sherlock and Homestuck and Doctor Who and gleefully immersed myself in their work and fandoms. (You had to be there.) It was nice to lurk in a live community, and as I worked through high school, Steven Universe, Gravity Falls, and assorted animated things took over as tentpole media. I moved across the country. I graduated from high school and enrolled in an animation program at a local university. And I grew up.

One fateful day in November 2019, I was sitting in an art history class. I had my sketchbook open next to my notes, and I had a red pen I’d picked up at work that was a joy to doodle with. I was thinking about a set of character designs a classmate had shown a few hours ago, ones that had sparked thoughts I hadn’t had in at least seven years. As my professor showed slides of Northern Renaissance still lives, I drew a place I’d never been, yet seemed to remember as well as my old neighborhood.

(I’d like to note, just to flex, that I know you can’t see the Citadel from that angle. I was making a conscious choice to try to hit every landmark in one picture, and that’s the angle I started from.)

A few hours later, Valve announced Half-Life Alyx – the first Half-Life game in thirteen years. I watched the trailer on my phone on a bench at school. Then I watched it at work, a few minutes before my shift. Then I watched it again.

I didn’t know what to think. I’d read Epistle Three - I’d closed the book. I’d already mourned. It was like a dead friend returning from the grave.

Then it grew. I had to play this game.

I’d attended a VR demo through my school’s video game development club a year ago. It had been magical – I and my friend were the last ones to leave. I thought as I left that VR was truly something different and unique, impressed beyond belief by Space Pirate Trainer and Tilt Brush. This is what I try to impress on everyone I talk about VR with – there’s no substitute for being inside a headset. A stream is a pale facsimile of the experience. Now, here was a new Half Life game, and I finally had an excuse to purchase a VR system.

What I didn’t realize was that I needed a proper computer to run the used Vive I ended up buying in February, and as I was preparing to build my proper VR computer, everything went to shit. As the year passed I scrapped together a tower on the back of a broken system I got from a friend, and finally – finally – in February 2021, I had a computer that could run Half-Life Alyx. (I have learned a lot about computers in the last year! So much fun.)

And when I had everything set up, I was playing a new Half-Life game!! a NEW one! Even through a new medium, it felt like home in a way I really didn’t expect. I still don’t know how to express it. It’s nice to play a Half-Life game where I didn’t know what was coming next, where the maps and story weren’t burnt into my brain. Part of me imagined it felt good to be in the Source engine again. Maybe it just felt good to return to City 17. And it was soooo much fun, every minute of it.

The other thing was that…I got to experience the game as an adult, one with about 8/9ths of an animation degree. I know about the production pipeline now, and writing a good story, and directing the viewer’s eye, and setup and payoff cinematography and vistas and visual storytelling. Playing through HLA is playing through a work of art. I almost wished I didn’t know anything about Valve’s game design philosophy, because then I wouldn’t have noticed how the devs were playing me like a fiddle – but how much fun it was to be that fiddle.

I finished Half Life Alyx a few weeks ago, on March 12th – just one day after the anniversary of the last day of school. I thought my gaming habits had dropped off since 2013 because I had moved on to other interests, but I wonder now if it’s simply because I ran out of linear, single-player FPSes to play. (Or maybe none appealed to me.) I like to know that I’m always going in the right direction, and that my story is intentional and will come to a climax in a satisfying way. Do I owe my preference in game styles to my 2010-13 obsessions? Maybe. I don’t think it matters by now. What I DO know is that my childhood ambition of working at Valve now looms again...

And of course, 11-year-old me is completely blissed out. I can’t wait to see what they do next. It’s been so much fun to return to this world in the past year, to use the powers I’ve gained in the last decade to fulfil my childhood ambitions of expressing my love for the universe and characters. Thanks for coming back for us, Valve.

[charmed-asylum]

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 , Chapter 1

Summary: Rosary Woods used to spend her summers in Hawkins. Now years later with untimely death of her father, she sent to live with her grandparents. Coming back to a place that use to give her pleasant memories but now full with dark secrets she hopes never see daylight. Her plan was simple easy till one night she finds a drunk boy full of curls and after life never the same.

FYI: This is my 1st fanfic. I do have dyslexia so if something wrong let me know. If you like it let me know same if you don’t. #Foodie be out this week too. ** Side note I’m looking for some talent ** tag list open

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

Tagged: @alagalaska @nottherightseason @alias-b @screensirenfic @linkispink1995 @staticscreenwriting

How the hell did all this happened. How the FUCK this happen. How did I end up alone on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere? Cold as hell with a runny nose from my tears and sharp pain of betrayal. I know now. It all started a couple of months ago. When I was tossed into this hickory town. Where one night find a stupid blue eyes boy drunk out his mind. With your stupid Mother, Mary's attitude had to help him. Now that drunk piece of shit made you fall for him to drop kick you in a small amount of a few months.

My brown eyes fill with glittery tears, tried to think back on every step that lead me here what was it? What did I do wrong? What I would do to go back to that night in October. Go back to that day I met that boy that came out of nowhere and changed my life

🍂🍂🍂

The fall air left a warm scent as I walk out the greyhound in my short denim overalls with a plain white short-sleeved shirt and black and white converses with black laces. My long midnight black wavy hair dancing with the wind with my red heart shades on, taking my around at my surroundings. Even though I have been here many times, this was the first time I came that wasn’t summer visits.

Those had an arrival and departure two way this time though was a one way. It was a lot different than home, Florida. It’s always sunny and things to do unlike here. Flipping my cassette player back on I walk over to the rusted metal benches and wait for my ride. I didn’t want to be here. However, when you have no other choice what can you do. My life stuffed in my dad's old beat-up army bag. I lend back hoping this was a dream and I wake up home with my dad not here. I didn’t hate here I just hate why I’m here. The two-day bus rides a dread and didn't help. Still, I’m stuck with nothing to do but cruise under the radar till graduation. Toss the cap in the air and by the time it's back in my hands I have another ticket to somewhere else.

I gentle tap took me out from my inner monologue into reality. An older woman in her 60s with short curly golden frost hair bright red lipstick that got bit on her front tooth in a flower print long dress. In all, she was the fifth unseen golden girl or what I know her as grams.

“‘HELLO ROSARY. You hear me call for you over there by the car” Grams shouts into my ear. Looking up at her I smile and move my bag out the way to hug her tight.

“ Sorry, the meds got me all out of it. Hi, grams it good to see you” I said holding onto the strap of my bag. She gave me a nod and kiss my cheek leaving an imprint.

“ Oh shut I forgot. Sorry, we couldn’t get your flights no airport close by. Sweetie. Grab your bag we can go home” Grams says walking and talking to the car. Tucking my shades in my pocket I follow her music still playing in my ears.

“ Where Papa at,” I asked looking out the window.

“ Oh, he at the diner checking on things. But he will be back by dinner. I sign you up for school. You start tomorrow. Your car will be ship here in two weeks so the bus to school till then” Grams said pulling up to the house. “ Look, honey. I know things have been hard the last few months but coming here can be your fresh start. So it’s up to you what you do. Stay sane try to be different better you dear” Grams said getting out of the car. Simply put it don’t fuck up this time.

“ Yes. Ma’am. I’m gonna the perfect granddaughter” I said with a eat shit grin.

“Don’t do that it’s tacky. I did not mean what I said that way sweetie. Huh lord, I need my soaps. Drop your stuff in your room” Grams said walking into the house.

My room more like a guest room. They tried though I give them that the last time I been here was years ago when I was 11. Then after that was with my dad across seas. By then the damage was done. Walls were eggshell white with a few pictures of me by dad and them that set on the wall by the window. The bed was against the wall with a small glass nightstand with a trunk in front. Probably the same one my dad had when he was my age. The small closet across the bed and an old oakwood dresser. This will do I’m sure in no time she can make it homie. I push my hand on the bed testing out the string a bit. This is my life now. Better just get used to it. Anger bubble deep in my chest as it slowly starts to hit me. This is a life I don't want. I wanted the life I had before one that was far from perfect but he was there. I toss my bag beside me with a bit of force and scream into my hands.

It took no time till I was done. I change up the pictures and some more on my dresser. A few things on the nightstand then to top it off my mint condition organized record collection in a purple crat that sat beside my dad's 1960s Gibson Hummingbird Fixed Bridge acoustic guitar.

“ So you all done. It’s not much but we go somewhere someday. Sorry, papa wasn’t here. After Benny passed away our place been the hot spot. Back to the glory days, he says” Grams said with a chuckle. I sat down beside her legs cross under me and started to flip through Good Housekeeping

“ So Benny no more. Anything else happens since I have been here last” I asked getting comfortable.

“Let's see. That Will kid you babysit a few times went miss for a week or so. Last year. And that’s about it. I don’t pay much attention to those things. Papa and I are going to bible study tonight. I know you not up to it this week. So you don’t have to go but I am looking forward to next week” Grams said. I ruffled my hand into my deep chocolate hair and nod yes.

“ I would love that. Thank you. That reminds me. I have to fill up on my pain killers. If it’s not much to ask can you please take me one day this week? Or may I go into town myself” I asked taking out my pill bottle?

Still, months later the pain reminds the same. Even the memories still were in tack as if it happened minutes ago. A tear rolled down my face just reliving it. Grams hold me tight smoothing me and rubbing my back as I let out a heavy cry. My dainty finger claw into her shoulder blade as tight as possible. I didn’t hate that I was here I just hate the why.

🌙🌙🌙

DADDY!!” I shout out. My body was soaked with a cold sweat and tears still running down my cheeks. Too weak to even move, I bend over cup my hands into my face, and scream.

Always the nightmares. Always the same two each night. Back home I would find a party or smoke or wave to ride but here. NOTHING. I promise a new me I remind myself. One that is not set to explode any second. One that took all their demons and bury it in the deepest hole. This me doesn’t let them loose but keep them hidden tight. That won’t break and burn everything she touches. This me be gentle, kind, and read the Bible instead of throwing my fist. I promise my father that even my estranged grandparents will be better.

After a good pity party, I decided to stay wasn’t gonna help me. I needed to out. I toss on some navy blue gym shorts pull down my Scooby-Doo t-shirt, which was getting a little bit smaller than last time I warn it years ago, decided for a walk.

Grams and Papa came back from church just after 11. Just missing the kids trick or treating. I stay back gave an empty smile say hello few folks who came by or heard over the rumor mill I was back. None who I really care about. The clock blink, 3:00. The cool breeze comforts me like a blanket over my shoulders. Music played close to mute. I thought about it all. If he at peace would I see him again. Could I make it to June in this town?

Far ahead of me on my way back, I saw a figure laying on the crisp grass. After the stories, Grams told me I wonder if it was anything important. As I got closer I saw an outline of a person. I stop and slow my walking this time with caution. Till I was right beside him. He was rocking back and forth humming some song no shirt tight-ass pants and hair messy with no shoes. This boy diffidently was fucking or having a good time. Part of me envies him and that freedom. Another knew it was because even if I don’t say it out loud he beautiful mess. Totally my type and that what it got tricky he was a reminder of the past I was hoping to leave behind. Flipping my hair out my face I got down to eye level and gently touch him.

“ Hey Hey you alright, “ I asked shaking him a bit.

He looks up and grins at me with a sleepy doozy grin. His eyes sparkle in the night sky and for a second I forgot he was drunk. My stomach did this thing I only ever felt a few times before. Back when I was happy. I shook my head and look around for help or at less to see if he drove or had friends. No luck. Part of me thought it be best to leave but then I saw it. Right below his eyes the old bruise and cuts. My jaw tightened till it clicks.

“ Mommy. Mommy” he said touching my face. I felt the cold touch of his ring against my lips. I tap it to the side and wrap his arm around me to get him up. Praying to God he, not a psycho, or I will regret this. He started to kiss my neck all while calling me mommy. Kinky mother fucker

“ Yeah Hot Wheels, not your mommy come on almost there,” I said helping him back home. He giggles and tried to be a handy hand reaching my hip and butt.

“ Holy shit your you are your a doll baby” he slurred into my ear.

Praying any god’s that my grandparents don’t wake up to him almost knocking everything down. I put my hand to his mouth and a finger to mine so he shut up. On the first day of this new me, I’m playing babysitting to a drunk man child. With ease, I toss him on my bed. He cuddles with one of my pillows squeezing my old grumpy carebear and drifts to sleep. I waited a second before I went and made my own special hangover shake and a bucket for the morning. Taking more time time to clean his face a bit and hand as gentle as I could. Time blink at 3:58, I sat on the floor against my dresser and watch him sleep. Wondering if a boy like that had nightmares too.

I woke up two hours later. Still on the floor face left with a carpet imprint. The boy from this morning now turns over to the other side against the wall sound asleep. I got up from my spot on wobbly legs grab some things and head to the bathroom.

As the cold water hit my face I kept thinking about before till the face of baby blue came into mine. His eyes look like way mine when I look into the mirror and it puzzles me. Never have I found someone else that had the same eyes as mine. Apart from me wonder what was behind those eyes. I shack it off as I dry my hair. If the boy's eyes look like mine then that means on things, his demons were just as bad. I change into tacky stuck in time uniform and walk back deep in thoughts when I stop. The boy was gone. I rush out of my room almost tripping over my own foot, empty. Nothing change in my room just the note. It wasn’t till I sat and smell the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes. It wasn’t a dream he was real. I laugh at myself there no way I will be seeing him again.

🍂🍂🍂

He couldn’t remember much just that her face was half cover by her loose curly hair that shines against the streetlight. The innocent big brown eyes that went with a sugar-sweet smile. Even though she was nowhere close to his mom. He couldn’t help but think about her. He never saw someone that beautiful before. Holding on to her tight sniff her in, honey and vanilla. He wanted to stare at her as long as he could but as soon as he hit the twin size bed he was out.

“Fuck am I” he hissed holding his head trying to think what happened last night. Last he remembered was making out with some blonde at the Halloween party or was it sex. His eyes look at the cup and bucket. Brown eye. He slowly picks up the note and read it:

Sleepy Head, First off we did not have sex and no I don’t know you. What I can tell you is this you were drunk and laying on someone's lawn alone. I live on Church street and Maple Lane. If it’s before 6 and your reading this back door

He laughs at the note and put it back where he found it. It was still early Neil wouldn’t be awake if he left now. He thought maybe he leave a thank you but it decided against it. He promised himself no attachment just to graduate, save up, and leave. No room for nothing else. Before he left he heard noises from the bathroom. Sound like a peaceful lullaby. Inching close he peaks in to see a figure from behind the curtain. Shaking his head he slips out and all his Mary way her black and white Adidas flip flops whistling her lullaby.

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Holiday Spirit (ObeyMe! Fic)

I’m feeling in a christmasy mood for the first time in, well, years, and feel like we all need a bit of chaotic joy at the moment ^.^  (I may have had a few, maybe more than a few, whiskey and cokes so this may not be as good as I think it is haha (￣▽￣)" )

Warnings: None, this is just some brother fluff/existence fic.

~~~~~~

It was hard to tell the changing in seasons in Devildom, mainly because there were no seasons, but the flakes of ash that fell from the sky every now and again gave MC an idea of what time of year it was. In recent years, it hadn’t even snowed where they lived on Earth, so this was the next best thing. But, even as that specific spirit blossomed within them, no one in Devildom seemed to take notice of the calendar, even if it wasn’t the same as MC was used to. 

Luckily, however, MC still had their music thanks to their trusty DDD. Whether they were getting ready for school, doing their chores in the kitchen, or wondering the streets with one of the demon brothers, cheerful- and some a little depressing- tunes were playing through headphones or speakers. The brothers didn’t take much notice of it, their human was already a little... weird, but they were their human and they didn’t actually know how regular humans acted. Solomon wasn’t much of an example, he was as devilish as any of them at some points.

But, it was when MC started putting up strange ropes of sparkling rags and paper chains in the hallways did they started to really wonder if everything was okay. It was too late before they realised all the white and red trinkets that started to litter surfaces in the living room and dining hall. 

“Hey, MC, whatcha up to?” Mammon approached accusingly, frowning his brows at his human, stood on the tallest ladder the House of Lamentation’s attic had. Slightly spooked by the sudden announcement, seeing as their ears had been plugged by headphones once again, MC almost toppled right off. Well, by almost, I mean they did. Fortunately, Beel had been observing the affair from a different angle. 

“Oh! Thanks, Beel! I didn’t want to be in a cast for Christmas!” 

The second that word, or, more precisely, the first half of that word, was uttered, the surrounding demons froze up, sending MC tumbling to the floor as even Beelzebub jumped. Groaning, rubbing their bruised butt and looking up at the duo of curious demons, MC couldn’t understand why they would react in such away. It didn’t take long for Mammon to provide them with an answer. 

“MC! Are you stupid? You can’t say that word here! Diavolo will hear you!!” Mammon, almost three metres from where he had last been seen, yelled loud enough for any other avatars to come investigating. 

“What’s going on here?” Asmodeus wiggled his brows at MC, now on their knees in an attempt to stand back up, and Beel hurrying to help them back up after dropping them. 

“They said the word!” Mammon whispered, pointing an accusing finger as MC quietly thanked the mass of muscle and kindness. 

“What word?” Asmo pulled a confused, and slightly exhausted, expression as he followed Mammon’s gesture. 

“I just said Christmas and they both f-.” MC couldn’t even finish their sentence before Asmo was clapping his hand over their face.

“Love, I wouldn’t say that! Diavolo wouldn’t exactly take kindly to it.” Asmo, shockingly, looked stressed by the phrase as he ensured MC ould keep their mouth shut before he let them go.

“I don’t see how Chri-.” 

“Oh I’d love to see how this turns out.” A new voice spoke up from behind the quartet, everyone turning to see Satan with a mirthful smirk on his face, hand on his hip as his one shulder held up his jacket. He had one book in hand, surely something about the latest potion MC had told him about. This one was from Earth, nothing magical to it but the taste. It was eggnog, and Satan was sure he had heard the term before from many years ago, sure he could make the best concoction MC had ever tasted. He was holding a recipe book.

“Satan, would you please explain to them was Chris-.” And with that, MC finally understood why they were prohibited from saying that one word. 

“OoOOhhhhHHhh, you think I’m saying Christ.” Everyone, excluding MC and Satan, went into a frenzy at their true pronunciation of the name. It didn’t calm down until a booming voice instructed everyone to stop.

Turning around, the five in the hallway turned to see two very tall, and one a little shorter, statues of men. Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos at his side. 

“What is the meaning of this racket?” Lucifer sneered, trying his best to kee his composure in front of the prince. Mammon was visibly sweating, Beelzebub so very hungry from the sudden franticness of the situation, and Asmo trying his very best not to seem affected by the word. He didn’t like losing his cool, but this was a situation he did not expect to find himself in. MC, their MC, saying that name- in their house?! He never imagined it. 

“Ah, MC, I see you standing putting up your decorations! Doesn’t the place look cheery.” Diavolo smiled up at the piece of tinsel hanging from the rafters, one end swinging back and forth, waiting to be taped up. “Barbatos, you should help them. We can’t have MC falling and hurting themself.” 

“Wait! You let this happen?!” Mammon awed at the nerve of the prince, looking up at what must be some sort of religious hanging. He didn’t really remember what humans did for God, but he was sure this must be new. 

“Why not? MC explained to me the holiday doesn’t mean the same thing for all humans, some don’t even associate it with Christ, so what’s the harm?” Although his tone faltered on the certain word, Diavolo seemed as happy as ever to accomodate the human’s traditions. It may have been because Christmas was usually celebrated for Christ’s death, but lets just let that slide for now...

With that, MC had a lot of explaining to do. At first, they used the time to rope the brothers into helping them put up the decorations. With a lot more hands, and on Beelzebub’s shoulders, the halls of the dorm were decked much quicker than they would have if MC had tried on their own. 

“So... You use Chr-... Ma-... The holiday to connect with your friends and family?” Mammon, not being able to say any part of the word without a shiver running up his back, trully tried to understand the meaning behind Christmas.

“That’s what it used to be about. Although, in recent years it mainly been about being with my friends. I don’t have a lot of family to celebrate with nowadays. But, for others, its mainly about presents and food. Oh, and not to mention the songs.” Not wanting to dampen the mood with their everyday life, MC started to list off all the joys of Christmas they remembered. Their mouth started to water at the memories of roast dinners and yorkshire puddings. The familiar popping of Christmas crackers echoed somewhere in the background of chattering as the brothers discussed their favourite parts of what the holiday sounds like. MC laughed remembering the static those flimsy paper hats would cause with your hair, making it stand up like a crazed scientist. 

“Oh, and snow’s the best part. My friends and I used to go to a hill near our home and sledge down it. I almost broke my arm once when I crashed into a tree!” Nothing could help the cute giggle that left MC’s mouth as they remembered those fond times. 

“Yeah yeah, enough about the cold, tell me more about these presents.” Mammon pushed through, cutting off one of the brothers, he didn’t take note who, who was about to ask for more stories of MC’s past. This didn’t put him in a very good light in any of the men’s eyes. MC merely laughed, a lighthearted affair that quickly turned everyone’s attention back to them.

“When you’re a kid, you usually make a list to send to Santa, but he’ll only give you want if you’re good. If not, you get coal. Or Krampus.” It was MC who shivered at the name this time, nightmare horro stories their mother used to tell them as a kid imprinting a fear in them that would last a life time. 

“Kr-Krampus?” Levi, who had joined the group as they passed his room mid decorating, stuttered out in anticipation. He knew about christmas was anime, but nothing about a scary version of Santa. 

“Legend has it, he kidnaps or punished naughty children by stuffing them in his sack, taking them to his lair, and eating them. Sure got me to behave when I was a kid.” MC laughed, although the nightmares they had were as real as the demons in front of them were.

“Anyway, come on, I’ll show you guys how to make Christmas cake!” MC jumped, wanting everyone to learn the joys of Christmas they had waited so many years to enjoy again. 

“Now?? But you said its two months away??” Satan awed at the odd timing, looking down at thenotes he had jotted down in his recipe book. Not that he let anyone else see them.

“You have to let the brandy ferment to get the best taste! Come on, I’m gonna need the help!” And with that, the student council, with a sleeping Belphegor slung over Beelzebub’s shoulder, headed to the kitchen.

[jamaisvuandyou]

Please Dry My Eyes: Part 6

Description: Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi have had a running streak of bad luck, but Jin isn’t sure what to make of this one: His old friend’s trickery that leads to him being the new father of a little toddler, Jeon Jungkook.

Posted: 02/6/2021

WARNING: Mentions of death

Angst/Fluff: 2,846 words

A/N: Welp.

Previous Part.  Next Part.

The one thing they dared not do at this exact moment was take Jimin away from Jungkook. He was distracted. He was happy. He wasn’t sobbing pitifully into Jin’s shoulder.

Jin had finally been able to take a shower, and put on a dry shirt. Not because he wasn’t expecting more tears, but because it made him feel better to get a dry shirt.

Hoseok was distracting both of them with some sort of silly song time, and the babies were laughing more than singing, but that was good. That was progress.

Yoongi was working on paperwork with Namjoon, so once Jin was finished with his shower, he went to make lunch for all of them. Something that would be easy to feed the boys while some trivial kids show played on the TV because today, of all days, was a cheat day.

“Yoongi,” He whispered, leaning on the table so that the two men seated there could hear him better. “We need kids DVDs. ASAP.”

Yoongi glanced down at the paperwork, then at Namjoon, before looking confusedly up at Jin. “Now? Why?”

“Because, we don’t have cable and we don’t have any other TV watching things, I barely remembered to get the internet installed here, and I am not trying to wrangle two emotionally unstable children for lunch when the rest of us are feeling emotionally unstable without some sort of distraction for said children,” Jin said, putting money on the table. “Take Namjoon if you need to. I’m assuming you’re staying for lunch.”

Namjoon sort of bobbed his head, a little shy. “Yeah, sorry, there’s a lot of paperwork and I thought it might be better for me to stick around and help a bit with Jimin the way he is.”

“That’s fine. Great even. Hope you like kids food. Shoo, off to the nearest store or resale shop or something.” Jin pulled both of them up by the arm. “You’ve been doing paperwork for three hours. Think of it as a coffee break, but without the coffee.”

Both of them headed for the front door, putting on their shoes to go on the trivial errand.

Jin got everything ready for when he was actually going to make lunch, then checked on Hobi and the boys again, trying to buy some time for Yoongi and Namjoon to get the required materials, and cleaned up the house a little bit since it was just short of a disaster thanks to the mess of a morning.

Lunch was almost ready when Namjoon and Yoongi returned, a few bags in tow.

Jin eyed them as he portioned out more sliced grapes. “Um….”

Yoongi held up his hands. “We went to the resale shop. It was the closest store, and we did get movies, though the quality of them is…questionable, but they had some of their toys on sale and I know that Jungkook likes the puzzles and Jimin looked like he liked books so….”

Jin nodded. “That’s fine. It’s a good idea for us to check out what they have for kids clothing-wise too. What DVDs did you get?”

“Well, we found some VHS tapes, and I remembered that ours still worked so I grabbed Cinderella, Rugrats—whatever that is, and The Lion King.”

“Let’s save Lion King for when they’re much, much older,” Jin said, thinking it would be a bad idea to show toddlers who recently lost their parents a movie where the father dies. Heck, who was he kidding, he didn’t think he could watch it.

“Right…um, well, DVD’s were even more scarce, but we found a couple DVDs of Veggietales—which I’ve never heard of, but they look pretty harmless and it is marked as having won a parent’s choice award so it’s got to be decent—Lyle the Kindly Viking, and The End of Silliness. Then there was Curious George and a Barbie movie. And the lady said we were lucky to find most of these.” Yoongi showed him the DVDs.

Jin grabbed one of the ones he hadn’t heard of, scanning over the back and then shrugging. “Let’s try one of these new ones, I guess. If it’s too bad we’ll switch to Curious George. Meantime, I’m going to look it up.”

“Already doing that,” Namjoon said. “Oh. I mean, they are Christian influenced…but definitely kids and…” He trailed off as he saw the look on Jin’s face. “Vegetables singing and acting out stories, sounds like a great distraction for the kids.”

Jin nodded. “I will take anything at this point. I’m not about to get picky on a day like today. There’s a lot of christian crap that’s secular enough to pass as not christian and at least we don’t have to worry about someone dying. And this one says it’s mostly songs from the show. Songs are good. Do you hear them singing?”

“Jin didn’t get as much sleep as you’d have thought,” Yoongi muttered to Namjoon, gently tugging him away.

Namjoon nodded, retreating with Yoongi with the DVDs to get it set it up.

Jin rubbed his forehead and finished plating it up. He didn’t have to patience to contemplate religions or whatever. He needed distractions for toddlers and they wouldn’t even really remember this. It would not be a formative memory. As long as it distracted his kids and didn’t trigger them, it could be any religion, any language, any content. He wouldn’t care until he’d slept a full night, and he had to care about their formative memories. He would figure it out then.

Just one of many meals that would blend into nothing in the minds of the infants.

And he wouldn’t have to contemplate what sort of language would be acceptable in his house for another day.

He would have to look into shows for the kids though, and get either a streaming service or a lot of DVDs.

But the four men got the two infants settled in front of the TV with their lunch.

Yoongi and Namjoon went back to their paperwork about halfway through.

But Hoseok, bless him, kept the kids invested in the show while also getting food in them. He had them dancing to a few of the songs.

And Jungkook kept watching even though he did give up on dancing to sit on Jin’s lap.

It wasn’t until it ended that Jimin seemed to calm down and remember.

He stood in the middle of the living room, hands at his sides, staring at the credits as they rolled. “Eomma,” he whispered.

Jin gently deposited Jungkook onto Hoseok’s arms, then crouched beside Jimin.

Jimin looked at him, then sighed and wrapped his arms around Jin’s neck, burying his face.

Jin held him carefully, lifting him and just holding him against his shoulder. There was a certain amount of fear inside of him: fear of Jimin becoming too attached to them, fear of letting Jimin go….

Jimin sniffled lightly.

“Well, baby,” Jin whispered. “It’s going to be long ride, but I’ve got strong shoulders. I can hold you as long as you need me too.”

As Jin sat down, Hoseok snuggled closer and rest his head on Jin’s shoulder so that Jungkook could rest on his shoulder but seemed to be satisfactorily close to Jin.

“Nice wide shoulders,” Hoseok murmured.

Jimin studied them a little bit, then reached out a hand.

Jungkook innocently took it, then closed his eyes.

Jimin smiling a bit through his quiet little tears and soft sniffles, and closing his eyes as well.

Jin watched both of the little ones until they seemed to be asleep. “Let’s put them to bed for their nap.”

Hoseok sighed. “Two more minutes.”

“No, two more minutes and we’ll both be asleep. Come on. Give me Jungkook. They’re sharing a bed. Yoongi, you took a picture, right?”

“I’m not stupid.”

Jin and Hoseok maneuvered Jungkook onto Jin’s other shoulder, then Hoseok helped Jin get up.

The toddlers barely stirred when Jin lay them down.

“For someone who supposedly hasn’t worked with kids that much, you’re doing really well,” Namjoon said quietly. “And I’m sorry about questioning you earlier on the dvds. You have every right to decide what is and isn’t okay in your house. And you were right. It was harmless.”

Jin waved them all out, closing the door for now. “Religions…are complicated, but I know a lot of religions have higher censorship, which means they’ll be more…friendly for kids who have been traumatized like mine have. Supposedly, anyway. I’m still going to screen a bunch of stuff before I let them watch it, but tonight it was desperate measures. They’ll be able to choose what they want to believe.”

Yoongi nodded. “I went to catholic school. It wasn’t all bad.”

Namjoon shrugged a bit. “Sorry. I’m an atheist, so…I didn’t think about your perspective on it.”

“Now you know my perspective on it. I’m not really religious or anything, I don’t have a set of beliefs, but if they decide they want to pursue any sort of religion, I’m not going to stop them…unless I think it’s a cult, then I’m probably going to lock them in the basement and try to talk sense to them.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say lock them in the basement and just roll with the talk sense to them, but yeah. I get it. Like I said, you were right. I’m sorry. But…did you really just call both of them your kids?” Namjoon was smiling.

Jin stared at the social worker, trying to remember what he had said.

Yoongi and Hoseok were smiling as well.

“I’m a duck,” Jin muttered. “A damn duck. I’ve imprinted. What the hell.”

Yoongi sputtered behind him.

Hoseok was make a lot of choked laughing noises as he followed Jin into the bedroom.

Jin changed into sweats, and stared at himself for far too long in the mirror, zoned out while trying to figure out when he’d subconsciously decided that Jimin was his now and that was such a dangerous thing to think.

Yoongi was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came out of the bathroom, but Hoseok was under the covers. “Namjoon left.”

“Right. Okay.”

“He said he’d see about trying to keep Jimin with us.”

“Right,” Jin repeated intelligently. He climbed under the covers, just waiting for Hoseok to get comfortable cuddling with him.

“Jungkook’s doing really well with him, and Jimin seems to really love Jungkook,” Hoseok whispered, holding his hand out for Yoongi to cuddle with them. “Actually, I’ve never seen Jungkook so…so….”

“Pacified? Independent? Detached from Jin?” Yoongi offered as he moved to spoon Hoseok, sandwiching the youngest in the middle. “Yeah, I think having another kid might be good for Jungkook, but we’ll still have to watch carefully over the next few days.”

Jin nodded, closing his eyes.

“But hey, we discovered that music is a good distraction for them. That’s good, you know?”

“True. And we found out that a desperate Jin doesn’t give a—”

“Language,” Jin grumbled, reaching out blindly and gently hitting at whatever his hand reached.

Soft chuckles were the response, then they all fell quiet, falling into a well-earned nap.

–

Previous.  Next.

Masterlist.

[yeojaa]

❪  TO THE MOON AND BACK!  ❫

You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  kth x named f!reader.  jjk x named f!reader.

genre +  rating.   non-idol!au.  fluff, a bit of angst.  general.    

tags / warnings.  none!  this chapter is pretty sad but also pretty happy?  “balanced, as all things should be.” - thanos, and also me.

wc.  3.9k

chapter 11.

“Are you ever going to do anything with them?”

You’re so focused on the melody that you don’t recognize the words immediately, his voice playing somewhere beyond your recognition.  It takes a long few moments of staring at Yoongi’s face, his moving lips, for you to realize he’s speaking to you.  

Headphones are tugged off your head and carefully returned to the stand at your elbow.

“Sorry?”  

“I said ‘are you ever going to do anything with them?’” 

It feels like you’re missing an integral part of the conversation.  Forehead furrows, following the lead of your mouth as it purses, little indent forming between your brows.  “With what?” 

“The songs.”  He doesn’t have to say much more.

“Oh.”  Your lack of answer doesn’t seem to deter him, his expression politely interested, if not a little tired.  You feel a pang of guilt for the fact that you’ve had such long nights lately - sessions passing the stroke of midnight more often than not. 

While it wasn’t your fault, you saw the toll it took on him - found evidence of it in the bags beneath his eyes, heavy enough to incur an additional charge at the airport counter.

He refocuses your attention:  “Yes?  No?”

“I… don’t know.”  You hadn’t considered it, honestly.  The songs had originally been written to give your misery an outlet.  You’d never considered what would happen to them once they were fully formed.   

You’re also not sure why he’s asking.  It’s been at least four months since you’d even thought about them.  Now they sat in the back of your mind, tucked away in a dusty box labelled JUNGKOOK along with a hundred other memories you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet.

“Can I use one then?”  

That certainly isn’t what you’d expected.

“What?”  It catches off your teeth, shattering over your tongue.  You wonder how you look - if the surprise is glaring beneath your skin like neon light.

Yoongi grins, low and slow and full of gums.  He must mistake your emotion for something else - excitement, maybe? - because he’s joining you in front of the computer, the imprint of his body still worn into the soft leather cushions he’s just vacated.  

The same instant he drops into the seat beside you, he takes over the mouse, flicking through file folders with purpose.  “I’m working on a new mixtape.  I thought one of your songs might work well on it so I took the liberty of recording some vocals and mixing it to see.”  

In any other situation, you’d be preening from the praise.  Now, it only settles discomfort in your stomach.

“I don’t know,”  you repeat, finally, after what seems like forever.  He’s already pulled up the audio file and the beginning notes fill the enclosed space, sinking into your ears.  It sounds amazing, of course.  Everything he touches turns to gold.  His voice is distinct, the delivery of lyrics so masterful you still don’t really know how he does it.

You listen in silence, admiring the way he’s managed to lay your original refrain with his effortless rap.  It thrums in a low bass - utterly brilliant - and then your voice starts.

It hits you like a ton of bricks then, two thousand pounds of weight dropping your heart into the pit of your stomach.  You don’t expect the reaction to be so polarizing.  You hardly realize you’re locked into place, gaze trained on some freckle in the wood grain of the desk, until you’re physically pulled from it.

A hand settles on your shoulder, hesitant yet unyielding.  It frames the bone and squeezes once, twice.  Yoongi’s voice follows, softer than you anticipate.  “Are you okay?”

The question repeats on a feedback loop.  It turns over and over and over until there’s nothing left but a distortion of your own voice in your head.  Were you okay?  You’d thought so.  Now, you weren’t so sure.  Hearing the familiar melody is like reliving those eight excruciating months all over again.

“It sounds great,”  you answer earnestly, in a voice that wobbles with emotion - a trapeze artist barely hanging on. You’re not lying;  you wish your voice wasn’t so feeble. 

“You’d get full credit, obviously.”  Yoongi’s trying to soothe the ache he can’t quite understand.  Not that he hasn’t tried.  After all, he’d helped you bring all of this to life.  He’d already done more than enough.

“Oh, thanks.”  It’s a little watery and a little weak but you’re laughing and that stretches an almost triumphant grin across the producer’s face.  It splits the casual indifference he normally wears, throwing the roundness of his cheeks into stark relief. 

You can’t help but smile yourself, however small.

Still, it’s enough for him.  You’re past the one-two sucker punch and he’s nearly all business again, studying the screen now that he knows you aren’t about to start bawling.  You have to hand it to him - he’s a professional through and through.

“Did you mind if I took a look at your notes?  I’m thinking we might want to do some ad libbing but I wasn’t sure if you’d considered that.”  

You don’t think twice about it, handing your worn notebook over.  The edges are tattered and it’s nearing the end, only half a dozen blank pages remaining.  All the rest are filled with nonsense:  half-formed lyrics, melodies stuck in your head, and—

“Are these about Jungkook?”

The question quite literally knocks the breath from your lungs.  It takes you what feels like ages to regain control of your own anatomy, your jaw falling and rising in tandem with the drawn out beat of your heart.  It feels strange - like you’re moving in slow motion.

Laid out before you - before him - are pages you’d poured your heart into over half a year ago.  You recognize them because of the dogeared edges and the almost concerning pen strokes decorating the margins.  Half the time you’d been writing about nothing at all, just putting your jumbled thoughts onto paper.  The lyrics had only come after that, once you’d word vomited as much as you could. 

You know what he’s reading now - not the verses you’d brought to life, but the heartbreak.  

“No?”  You’re not a great liar.  It’s never been an issue until now.

He doesn’t do the disservice of belittling you or questioning you on it further.  Instead, Yoongi remains decidedly silent;  the quiet isn’t quite like any other.  It’s careful and considerate, formed by unspoken questions and curiosity he holds close.  Almost as if he’s giving you time, he flips through the pages with the strangest expression on his face.

Even when he’s done, he says nothing - meeting your horrified stare with something close to compassion. (Or pity, but that feels a whole lot worse.)

He waits for you to speak first.  You don’t. 

Finally, because it’s almost suffocating now, he hands your notebook back to you.  Two hands - deeply respectful.  You accept in the same fashion and try to ignore the tremor that runs the length of your fingers, slotting the journal back into your bag.

“Does he know?”  There’s no judgment, no expectation.  

You have to hand it to him - he’s handling this spectacularly well.  Far better than you would be if you’d found out one of your best friend’s girlfriends had history with another of your best friends. 

“Sort of.”  

It’s the first reaction he gives that feels like it isn’t restrained, carefully packaged and offered only after it’s been perfected.  “Sort of?”  It rolls incredulously off his tongue.  

“It’s a long story.”  You don’t mean how defensive you sound.  It’s just hard not to when the wound has been festering for so long and you’ve let it turn to rot, weeds sprouting around the Jungkook-shaped sadness you’ve tried to cover with a sheet.

“I have time.”  He doesn’t mean it in any way but comforting.  It still doesn’t feel right.  

You begin with fiddling hands and eyes that won’t quite meet his, bouncing around the room like you’ll find solace in the muted light or the KAWS figurines that line the side wall.  “We met in school - second year.  He asked if the seat beside me was empty.”  You’re proud of the way your voice doesn’t break - how it steels itself through the acid that boils in your veins.

“We… were friends.”  The word has never quite matched what you’ve felt for him, even now.  But then?  It didn’t hold a candle to the torch you’d carried.  “He honestly became my best friend, or something like that.”  You try not to get too lost in the memory, holding tight to the present with white-knuckled fists.  “We did everything together.  We visited our families.  We went to Disneyland.”

Surprise fits itself into the sea of his stare, recognition flickering like a lighthouse.  You wonder how much he knows - if the nameless girl in Jungkook’s stories finally has a face.

“We were inseparable.”  The smile you offer is mostly playful, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I guess, except for when he was with you guys.  But at some point, the friendship changed.  For me, at least.”  You fiddle with the long end of your belt, scraping indigo nails over the glossy fabric.  “I never acted on it, though.  I knew I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”  

“Then how…”  It trails off but the question lingers, hanging in the spaces between you.

“You know how hard he works.”  Yoongi nods - of course he does.  “Our last semester was… a lot.  I don’t think I’d ever seen him so stressed out.  We kind of let loose once we submitted our final projects.”

The little puzzle pieces you’re offering are slowly taking shape.  A part of you - the part that hates picking at the poorly healed wound - wishes you could take it all back.  You’re so close to the climax of the story and yet, you know it’ll be lacklustre.  It’ll fall miles short of the cinematic masterpiece you’re sure Yoongi’s expecting. 

There will be no grandiose declarations of affection and no heartbreaking rejections.  

“I made the mistake of asking him to spend the night.”  Heat eats up every surface of your skin, starting at the apples and ascending up over your temples.  “And then…  I left in the morning.”

Seated not two feet from you, Yoongi’s quiet breath is far louder than he means.  It puffs out of his cheeks in surprise.  “What do you mean you left?”

Whether the warmth is embarrassment or shame now, you’re not quite sure.  It all feels the same, red hot and humiliating.  “I left a note on my pillow.”  You won’t meet his stare even as you can feel it digging into your skin. 

“What did the note say?”  By the way he speaks, you think he has an idea.

“Sorry.”  

“Sorry for what?”

“No, the note.  It said sorry.”

If looks could kill, you’d likely be six feet under.  You’ve never seen so much exasperation - not even on your professor’s face when you’d beg for an extension literally seconds before a project was due.  “And what else?”  

“Nothing?”  You say it like a question despite the fact you know the answer.

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  You’re practically gnawing a hole through your cheek.

“Then what happened?”

“We didn’t talk.”  

“At all?”  Watching him grow incrementally more frustrated is like observing an overworked stay-at-home mom losing her cool at the supermarket.  It feels bad, discouraging, but you can’t look away.  Not even when he stares at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“I mean…” 

His expression begs you to spit it out.

“He tried once or twice, a few weeks later.  But I still felt so bad so I didn’t say anything back.  And then he stopped trying.”  You know you’d let the silence go on too long, allowing the awkward tension to mutate into something worse.  You’re not stupid.

The longest sigh greets your ears.  “You guys slept together and then you ghosted him.”

When he puts it like that, it sounds infinitely worse.  You frown deeply, shaking your head.  It wasn’t like that.  It was different - necessary. 

“I didn’t ghost him!”

“You left a sticky note!”

“Because I didn’t want him to regret it!  I didn’t want him to feel weird.”

“You honestly thought leaving your so-called best friend a note was better than talking to them?”  The way he utters the title makes you squirm in your seat.  You shouldn’t be surprised, though.  If you’ve learned anything over the last ten months, it’s that Min Yoongi does not mince words.  Not when it’s important.

“I was scared.”  It’s not an excuse;  it sounds like one. 

“Things are scary.  You get over it.”  He has a point.

“It doesn’t matter now.”   Unfortunately, so do you.

“I guess not.”

FLASHBACK Friday, June 21, 2019.  12 PM. 

When he wakes up, it’s like the end of the world - except not with a whimper, but with a bang.

The evil monkey that comes out of hiding after he’s had too much to drink is loud and unbothered, clanging its stupid gold cymbals hard enough to rattle his teeth in his skull.  The sound bounces around in his ears, digging past his usual post-drinking haze to directly assault his senses.

Rolling over doesn’t help.  In fact, it somehow makes it worse, the sudden motion bringing about a tidal wave of nausea.

The feeling rises and crests, threatening to swallow him whole when he rolls onto his front and yanks his legs up beneath him.  Face pressed into the warm topside of the pillow, he curls his arms around the underside and takes three deep breaths, trying his best to alleviate the discomfort in his chest. 

It works albeit poorly, like the second wave is coming, creeping up just beyond the horizon.

“Fuck.”  It’s grumbled into the soft cloth he’s presently trying to suffocate himself with.  Jungkook whines another sound - not as loud as the clattering in his head or even very clear - and presses deeper into the pillow, inhaling deeply.

God, he feels awful.  You were right - he definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink. 

You.  

The same you who had tried to go shot for shot with him over dinner, only to tap out when he wrenched another glossy green bottle open.  The same you who had held his hand on the way back to your side of campus and laughed when he’d crowded you in the elevator, pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulders.  The same you who had moaned his name so prettily he can feel it even now, stirring something in the pit of his stomach that feels a helluva lot better than the liquor-induced ache.

The you that should be at his side - and yet isn’t.

He blinks owlishly against the straining morning light, how it fades in through your half-drawn blinds and spills over your side of the empty bed.  A hand reaches - slow, because he’s still not in full control of his motor functions - and slips over the cotton.  

It’s cold.  

Another blink, another pat of his hand.  

He’s definitely in your dorm.  There are photos strung up across the walls - taken by you or of you - and your familiar leather jacket is hung over the back of your desk chair.  Your too-many coffee cups sit beside your keyboard but your familiar canvas backpack is nowhere to be seen.

“Jiyeon-ah?”  It’s more gravel and sleep than anything remotely coherent.  He tries again.

Silence settles in the enclosed space and he wishes it’d do the same in his head.  Where were you?

The flat of his palm roves across your sheets, fingers seeking out the cold hard surface of his phone.  Maybe he’d left it in his pants?  That seems probable but they’re also not on his person, likely left in a pile at the foot of the bed - along with his underwear and socks - and well, he’s terribly lazy.

Lazy and still way too hungover.  

So Jungkook lays there and waits, comfortable in the bed he’s been in more than once, more than twice, more times than he can count on both hands.  He tosses and he turns, not quite patient but also not ready to face the day.  He figures you’ll be back soon.

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind.  Your dorm’s like a second home to him, somewhere he’s crashed a few too many times after you’d both trudged back in the dead of night after losing track of time across town.  He knows the sweet spot on your shower - where he needs to get it right before the water turns from mild to scalding - and the fact that you hide your favourite coffee in a crate under your bed.  It’s nearly as much his as it is yours, though he’s sure you’d disagree.

Either way, he could very, very easily fall back asleep.  He almost does.

The nausea settles and while moving too fast stirs it uncomfortably, he’s doing a lot better than he normally does.  It’s just this-side of relaxing, with time that doesn’t pass in screeches and lulls, rather simply sliding by in the transition of red numbers on your bedside clock.

It’s only when he realizes that it’s been nearly two hours that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should get up. 

With an exaggerated grunt, he pushes himself to his elbows, entire body groaning with the effort.  While he might’ve felt fine mentally, his poor aching limbs were doing decidedly less well.  It’s almost like he’d been hit by a fourteen-wheeler loaded with booze. 

He sways with the force of it, nearly faceplanting back down on your pillows when he sees it.

A little neon yellow square with your messy, rounded Hangul scrawled in black Sharpie.  Three characters, one word, one broken heart.  

Mianhae.

It comes when you least expect it, straight out of the blue.  Your eyes are trained on the same colour that spills across the sky, the hazy clouds drifting in and out of focus;  the sun is playing hide and seek, splashing rays of warmth whenever you pass between tall grey buildings.

“I love you.”  Three words.  That’s all.

They roll off Taehyung’s tongue as easily as a breath from his lungs, filling the spacious interior of his German-built sports car.  There’s nowhere for the proclamation to go, caught between four walls and two bodies and your wide-eyed stare.  Not that he can even turn to admire the way your eyebrows have shot into your hairline, how your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water.  He’d still probably call you cute.  You know him.

“What?”  You’ve found yourself repeating this same word a lot lately.  With Jungkook, with Yoongi, and now, with your boyfriend, who seems terribly smug and not at all bothered.

He’s staring straight ahead, focused on the road in a way that you know isn’t wholly natural.  You’ve spent enough time in this car with him, with his hand gripping yours, to know that driving is second nature and he does it like he does everything else - effortlessly.

“I love you.”  It comes without missing a beat.  The edge of his mouth curls, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and you can’t miss the mischief.  You’d feel wary if you didn’t recognize it so well, how it lights up his insides and spills out brighter than the sun above your heads.

You ask because it’s funny and not because you care.  “Are you pranking me, Kim Taehyung?”

He levels you with a look then, one just from his periphery.  You can hardly make it out amongst the dark of his lashes, the velvet that brushes over his eyes because it’s just a little too long now.  The hand on your knee squeezes experimentally, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft of your thigh.

“Is my love a joke to you?”

“Maybe.”  It’s a challenge - a playful, proverbial pat on the cheek.

The sound he makes is a mix between a growl and a laugh and 100% adorable, sweeping affection across your face in stretches, apples of your cheeks pulling wide.  “You’re lucky - I still love you anyway.”

Every time he says it, it’s a little less jarring.  

“You love me.”  You repeat it not for the sake of doing so but to taste it on your tongue, to feel its weight.  It’s much lighter than you’d anticipated, spun fairy floss and strawberry-scented bubbles rather than a newfound burden.  It fills you without expectation, fitting itself in the little cracks and crevices without demanding more.  Still, you want to give in return.  It feels right.  “I love you, too.”

Just like you love the smile that spreads like wildfire, boxy and distinctly him.  It’s so endearing you swear you feel your heart trip in your chest, lovesick and enamoured.  

He says it more to make you laugh than anything.  “I know.”  

You roll your eyes and meet him over the centre console, grateful that he’s found his familiar spot right down the street from his parents’ expansive home.  You appreciate the little moments kept just for the two of you;  you cherish them more than you can say, tucking them neatly into your pockets and behind your ears.

He presses forward for a kiss.  You smell like citrus and floral - Sicilian lemons and just-bloomed lilacs - a scent he thinks he’ll never forget.  When he rearranges himself in his seat, turning enough to drag you just that bit closer, he’s greeted with the sticky sweet musk - tonka beans and neroli - hidden beneath the curtain of your dark hair.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve got dinner in ten minutes or you’re sitting in the brightly lit street like two nervous high school students after a first date.  

This time is for him and for you - a celebration of sorts.

So he kisses you again, though it’s not quite kissing.  It’s more like worshipping and he takes his time doing it, wordless devotion roving over every inch he can possibly reach.  He treats you like a god or a deity, treasuring you like you might grant him his heart’s greatest wish or that maybe you already have.  It’s nice to imagine that.

“I love your bedhead.”  Which is where he starts, right at your temple.  They’re the softest presses - barely there trails of his dry, slightly chapped lips.  He inhales that familiar lemony scent as he deposits sweetness in its wake - over your eyelids and down.  

The line of his nose meets the contour of your cheekbone and he’s littering tender kisses along the rounded edge, all the way up to your ear.  There’s a beat of hesitation - a will he, won’t he - before he drops his head further, nosing past the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder meet to brush over the column of your throat.  It’s almost innocent until enamel catches, not nearly hard enough to blossom any colour but enough to draw forth the quietest sigh.

“And I love the way you sound.”  The lecherous grin he offers is far too handsome.  It doesn’t pull disgust and reproach as it should, especially not paired with the dainty kiss to your wrist.  He lingers there, over blue veins that jump beneath his touch, and only moves onto the back of your hand once you huff an almost imperceptible sigh of impatience.

You receive five more kisses - one to each of your fingertips.

“I just love you.”  

author note.  three more chapters to go.  ty for reading, as always!  xo

[fancat-not-fangirl]

It’s Not You Pt.7

They sat in silence for a bit, finishing their food. 

Scared that if he’d look up he’d find Cas staring back at him with those big blue eyes, Dean kept his head down, pretending to look at the remaining pie on his plate. Only, once they were done, he didn’t have any more excuses not to look at Cas. So, steeling himself, Dean raised his head and immediately found Cas’s eyes, that glanced away the moment they met. Clearing his throat, Dean decided that the only way out of this steaming pile of shit was through.

“So. Cas.” The freshman’s head swiveled towards Dean, who desperately tried not to lose his nerve. “Sam tells me that you bring an extra sock everywhere you go, just in case you lose one from another pair.” 

Cas blushed furiously (awwww) and started fiddling with the edges of his sleeve. There was a word, a name maybe, stitched into the underside of his sleeve, but Dean couldn’t make out what it said. He focused instead on Cas’s face. “My mom makes me bring an extra because she knows that whenever I go somewhere, I always lose one sock.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Always?” A nod from Cas.

“Always always? As in, not once in your entire life have you gone on a trip somewhere and not lost a sock?” 

Another nod. “Well then the Sock God up in Sock Heaven must really hate you, Cas.” 

Dean loved the way the name rolled off his tongue. What he loved even more, though, was the small smile and laugh that Cas let out. Just for him. Now feeling incredibly pleased with himself, Dean bravely asked another question.

“And is it true that you have a vinyl record signed by the one and only Bruno Mars?” At this, Cas got this adorable proud look on this face and he nodded. 

“I went to one of his concerts for my sixteenth birthday and my mom got us backstage passes. That’s where I got him to sign it.” He then added quietly, “I’ve kinda been obsessed with him since I was little.”

“Did you bring it with you?”

Looking a little surprised, Cas nodded. Taking a deep breath and shyly looking down, he asked, “Do you want to see?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Dean said, “I’d like that.”

***

Back in the dorm room, which looked like it came straight from a magazine because it was so clean, Cas walked over to his bed and the record hanging above his pillow. Taking it off of the wall like it was the Mona Lisa, he gingerly cradled it in his arms and walked over to Dean. 

“Be careful.” He whispered as he offered it into Dean’s outstretched hands. Nodding, Dean held the vinyl record with the scribbled ‘Bruno Mars’ in the center. It was heavier than he expected. Heavier and a lot more rough. Examining it for a few seconds, he then silently handed it back to Cas, who looked thoroughly relieved that it was finally back in his care. Even then, the cute look of worry never truly left the freshman’s face until he record was safely hanging back on the wall. Oh but how adorable he looked when he was worried. His forehead scrunched up, and his nose twitched, and he shifted from foot to foot, and Dean decided that he should probably stop mooning over Cas and say something.

“I know how to play some of his songs on the guitar.” Cas obviously wasn’t expecting Dean to start talking, and he jumped a little at the sound of his voice. Dean fought back a smile and continued. “I’ve been playing the guitar for a while now, since Sammy was little.” He sat down on Sam’s bed, wincing a bit at how far down he sank into the mattress.

“Did he ever tell you that the only way he would be able to fall asleep when he was a kid was if I sang to him?” 

Cas shook his head with a small smile and in turn sat down across from Dean on his own mattress.

“Well, it’s true. And one day there was this guitar up for grabs outside this house that was for sale, and I decided ‘What the hell, I sing to him anyway. Might as well learn to play the guitar while I’m at it’, and snatched that wooden piece of junk from the driveway.” Smiling at the memory, Dean shrugged. “It’s still the same guitar I play now. She’s never let me down.”

He heard Cas stifle a laugh. “She?”

“Yeah. She. If my car is Baby, then my guitar is Baby 2.0.”

The giggle that left Cas’s mouth made the entire room brighter. Dean suddenly made it his life’s mission to make this freshman smile and laugh as much as physically possible. Starting now.

“Hey, did Sammy ever tell you about the time that he got invited to this chick’s middle school Halloween party? And he thought that she was oh so pretty and got so nervous, that when he went to go bob for apples and show her how ‘much of a man he was’, he threw up all over her?”

Cas stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. Dean couldn’t have been happier. Making a split second decision, he got up and moved across the room to sit down next to Cas on his bed. Cas looked a little shocked at first, but then Dean launched into another story that had Cas almost rolling on the floor with laughter, making Dean the luckiest man alive.

“What about you?”

Cas looked up, still smiling but now a bit confused. “What about me?”

“Has my little brother done anything stupid around you?”

A slow smile spread across Cas’s face and he started telling Dean about the time that the boys had accidentally left their window open and a bird had flown in. Sam had apparently tried to shoo it out, but it had pecked him in the face, causing him to run out and come back a few minutes later with a broom, then proceeding to chase the bird around the dorm room. At one point in the story, Cas had stood up and pointed to a small indent in the wall, explaining how Sam had swung the broom towards the bird but missed, instead hitting the wall. Demonstrating Sam’s furious running back and forth, Cas had Dean almost in tears by the end, and he collapsed onto the rug in the middle of the room and panted, trying to catch his breath. His dark hair was spread around his head like a halo, and Dean had the fleeting thought that Cas looked like an angel. A beautiful, insanely adorable, funny as hell angel.

Dean gasped out through laughs, “What kind of bird was it?”

“A pigeon.” Then Cas’s eyes went comically wide as he lowered his voice to a whisper and brought his face so close to Dean’s that their foreheads almost touched. 

“It pooped on his head.”

Both boys dissolve into another fit of hysterics. Dean was soon joining Cas on the floor, both of them rolling around, cracking up. Dean couldn’t understand it. How happy he was, laughing his heart out with this freshman. God damn it, he was Dean Fucking Winchester. He wore leather jackets and had a cool car and could beat you up if you looked at him the wrong way. Yet here he was, with a boy that made his face light up and his stomach hurt and his heart almost burst out of his chest. Cas had somehow managed to throw everything Dean Winchester stood for out the window, and now he found himself giggling like a five year old at the faces Cas was making. And Dean didn’t want it to end.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Dean choked out, “Do you have pictures?”

Cas nodded fervently and hauled himself up into a sitting position on the floor, sweater sleeve hiking up on his arm as he reached for his phone that was lying on his desk. 

Dean froze. 

Before he could think about what he was doing, he was tackling Cas and wrapping his arms around the now very very confused looking freshman. The one that was so cute and adorable and whose smile lit up Dean’s entire world. The one whose laugh was like listening to the prettiest music on Earth. The one whose eyes were like staring into the summer sky and whose hair looked like a halo around his head.

The one that had the word Winchester imprinted on his wrist, and whose last name, Novak, was stitched into the underside of his sleeve.

The one that didn’t pull back when Dean pressed their lips together, instead letting out a small sound that made Dean glow from the inside, and returned the kiss. It was perfect. Dean had kissed people before. He had kissed girls, he had kissed boys, but nothing could have prepared him for this kiss. This kiss was an explosion of color. Fireworks, even. 

Dean finally, finally, raised his hand and ran it through Cas’s hair. Hair that felt like silk under his fingers. Dean firmly decided that this had been worth the wait. 

Cas moaned into the kiss, and arched his body up into Dean, who wrapped his arms tighter around the small, cute creature who he could now finally call his. Dean could do this forever, he decided. Cas’s mouth was perfect and sweet and everything Dean could have asked for.

“CAS, I’M NOT YOUR SOULMATE!”

Dean and Cas didn’t even have time to break apart before the door was bursting open and Sam was careening into the room, announcing the phrase loud enough that people five doors down could hear. He was followed by Gabe, who froze alongside Sam at the sight of Cas on the floor, Dean sprawled on top of him. 

“What the shit-” 

“I can explain-”

“The hell are you doing, barging in like that-”

“You’re finally getting laid little bro-”

They all spoke at once, drowning each other out. Sam and Cas were both red in the face, one of them apologizing and the other staring at Dean in disbelief. Gabe, meanwhile, was obviously trying to contain his laughter, and Dean was clearly mad that his brother had interrupted them.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” This came from Sam, who looked incredibly confused at the scene in front of him. 

Dean smiled and started rolling up his sleeve. He then unclasped his watch, which he only ever took off at night, so that Sam could never see his soulmate’s name. After realizing as a little kid that he and his brother shared the same imprint on their wrists, he refrained from sharing his soulmate’s name with his brother, afraid of the drama it would cause in the family. Instead, he kept his watch on him at all times of the day, but it finally came off now.

Sam inhaled sharply as he saw the clear, black ‘Novak’ inscripted on his brother’s wrist. Cas gasped, too, and his wide eyes met Dean’s, who didn’t look away this time.

“So what y’all are telling me,” Gabe spoke up now, still trying his best not to laugh. “Is that I’m going to be fucking your brother, and you’re going to be fucking my brother? We’re one big brother fucking family now or what?”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Try selling that shit to Disney.”

And then they were all shrieking with laughter, doubling over and gasping for breath until their sides hurt. Cas and Dean were yet again rolling on the floor, but this time they were grabbing at each other’s hands and shirts instead of keeping to themselves. Gabe had collapsed onto Sam’s bed, giggling into the pillows. Sam was bent over, trying to steady himself by grabbing onto Cas’s chair, which promptly tipped over, sending him tumbling to the ground. That didn’t help matters whatsoever, and it was a solid ten minutes later that they finally got themselves under control and could say anything without the group launching back in a frenzy of chuckles and cackles.

Regaining their breath, Cas and Dean sat up and leaned their backs against Cas’s bed, Cas putting his head on Dean’s shoulder. 

“So how did you figure it out?” Dean asked his brother, who hadn’t bothered getting up from the ground and remained sprawled across the floor. 

Sam blushed and opened his mouth to answer, but Gabe talked over him, winking at his soulmate. “Oh buddy, you don’t want to know.”

Anything that was enough to make Sam blush was a must-know in Dean Winchester’s book.

He leaned forward.

“Tell me everything.”

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Of Gardenias and White Dresses

Edoardo Incanti has never been known to fall for girls. They fall for him. But one beautiful girl, with lovely brown hair, intense green eyes, perfect red lipstick, and a smile that breaks his heart regularly, has already changed that.

[I guess Incantava fics to fill the void in my heart because SkamIt never fucking updates is who i am now.]

----------

Edoardo pulled back into his driveway, and sat in silence.

His car still smelled faintly of her shampoo.

He hadn't been able to wipe the dumb grin off his face the whole drive home.

Well, really since last night.

He shut the engine off and leaned his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes.

Ele.

He was sure he was dreaming, last night when he saw her walking down his hallway at his party. Was sure he had had a couple drinks too many, somehow, and that his was his drunken fantasy. She had been so insistent that she wasn't going to come, and he had taken her at her word.

She had asked him about Silvia, and his heart sank into his belly.

Of course she had come for Silvia. She was a good friend, it was one of the things he liked the most about her, but his heart still ached with want, want for her to be there for him, want for her to want to be around him.

The party had ended abruptly, and he was had been sure he was dreaming then, when she was standing in his garden.

But of course not, because his dreams of Ele would never have her be so distressed.

Watching her call her brother, he played out all the options in his head, of things he could say, things he could do, the right thing in that moment, to get her to like him.

She suggested that she go home, and sit on her stoop in the early hours all alone, and a scenario he never even imagined came into his mind, because in no world would he ever have thought she'd expect him to be okay with that. He offered to drive her home, in that moment completely putting the idea of meeting Fede and his friends at EUR out of his mind. He would stay with her until she was home safe.

She told him he could go if he wanted, and he just scoffed and put on the kettle. Didn't she know? Didn't she know that he would never go anywhere else if he had the option to be by her side? That he would never willingly leave her if he had any choice?

He thought maybe she looked pleased, when he asked her what kind of tea she wanted, but he pushed that away.

He sang to her, and halfway through the song he stopped, because his fingers were shaking and his heart was pounding. He met her eyes, and she just smiled, soft, and he ducked his head to hide his grin. He thought maybe she looked... happy.

Her brother called and he tried to prepare himself to take her home, to leave her and be separated from her, but she stayed. Some party, in Viterbo.

When he offered her his home, he thought she'd say no. Thought she'd ask to call Silvia, or Eva, or anyone else, to find somewhere else to stay.

Instead she just said... "Yes."

Instead she asked him to stay in her bed with her, instead of his couch.

Instead she almost let him kiss her, he could swear she almost let him kiss her.

He crawled into bed, a pillow wall between them, wondering how he could get her to never leave, when his phone buzzed and her brother Filo gave her away.

"I'm home, are you back soon? Should I be worried?" He asked, and Edoardo felt his chest fill with hope.

"Someone else for you to beat up?" She had asked, a little smug, and he bit his cheeks.

"Just your brother, wondering when you will be home." He had said, nonchalant, and he felt her tense, and he bit his lips to stifle a laugh.

He teased, and she rolled closer, so close, and then she just rolled back over and fell asleep.

She had wanted to stay. She had lied to him, to hide it, but she had wanted to.

He slept soundly at the thought, the thought of her wanting to be there, in his house. In his bed.

With him.

He rubbed his face, trying to massage the ache from his cheeks from all the smiling.

She was the only thing he could think of.

How pretty she looked in the morning, with mussed hair and sleepy soft eyes.

How shy she had gotten when he had asked her what she needed, what she wanted. He wanted to give her everything, wanted her to know that everything she ever needed was his bidding to provide, just by will of her wanting it.

He smiled all the way inside.

All the way through cleaning, even with his nose plugged as he ripped the vomit stained sheets from the spare room. The foul substance had soaked into the mattress in the night, and he smiled as he dragged it to the rubbish outside.

All the way through his shower, and as he got dressed.

He caught himself staring at her side of the bed, the pillow wall still intact, her pillow still smooshed a little, a tiny red lipstick stain visible on the cotton. He walked over and flipped the pillow upside down, hoping it would trap the smell of her in the fabric.

His phone buzzed, Fede, inviting him for lunch. He reluctantly agreed, even though the biggest part of him never wanted to leave the last place they had been together.

He walked into his kitchen, her mug still on the kitchen table. He couldn't bring himself to wash it yet, so he grabbed his keys from the counter, and headed to the door.

The leather jacket she had worn the night before was left on the hook, and he grabbed it, pulling it on.

It smelled a little like her shampoo.

The day passed mostly with Edoardo in a daze, and his bed felt empty that night without her in it.

He left the pillow wall up, as if leaving it there would block the empty, cold space she had occupied from reaching him.

He stared at his ceiling all night.

Eleonora.

She hadn't texted on Saturday, and Sunday passed the same. He missed her, somehow.

He had barely even had her. Barely spent an evening with her, but somehow she was like a flower pressed between the pages of a thick book, leaving an imprint of its petals on the pages of his mind, leaving behind a soft smell and a memory.

Sunday night came, and he caved. He shoved the pillow wall away, and curled into her side of the bed, flipping her pillow and burying his face into the cotton, breathing in.

Her smell was still laced into the fibres.

Gardenia.

Of course she smelled like flowers.

He fell asleep almost instantly.

Her eyes, bright and green, shining, danced into his vision. She was dancing. Spinning, twirling, in a long white dress, with flowers in her hair, spinning and spinning.

He wondered if there had ever been a more beautiful women. He wondered if the goddess of spring was jealous that someone had captured the essence of spring in her eyes, in her hair, in her aura. He wondered if Prosperina knew someone had taken the mantle of Goddess of flowers?

"Edo." She whispered, a warm smiled on her lips.

"My love." He whispered back. She spun in his arms, laughing, pressing her back into his chest and swaying to some unknown sound she was hearing.

He tucked his face into her neck, breathing her in as they danced.

He woke before his alarm, gently, his face still buried in her pillow. He could see the tiny lipstick stain.

He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes, trying to memorise the image of her in his dream, dancing in her white dress.

The longer he laid there, the more the dream came back to him.

They were on a beach, the waves crashing in the distance.

His own arms came into his view, a dark suit jacket on his forearms...

and a ring.

On his left ring finger.

He had dreamt of marrying her.

Eleonora Sava.

Where had she come from? It felt like she had just emerged, like Venus from the sea foam, and somehow she was all he could think about.

He had never dreamt of marrying a girl before. He had never felt like this at all.

He dressed for school, and met Fede for coffee, the flowers in her hair spinning circles in his vision every time he closed his eyes.

He couldn't focus on anything at all. All he could do was look for her.

Every head of brown hair made his heart thunder.

Every little flash of red made him look frantically through the crowd for her lips.

It was never her, and his heart ached.

He climbed into his car, and opened his whatsapp.

Eleonora Francesa Sava: Online.

He typed it before he could loose his nerve.

He hoped she wanted him to text her.

She had said they never happened, but then...

She had stayed. In his house. In his bed. With him.

He could swear she had almost let him kiss her.

He hoped she missed him too.

Edoardo Incanti:  I dreamt of you last night.

She didn't answer.

He didn't know if he had expected her too.

But that night, when he fell asleep on her pillow again, wrapped in gardenia, his cheeks still sore from smiling, he dreamt of her white dress, and the flowers in her hair.

[patronusofthepugs]

The McCormicks Are Cursed

                This was inspired by @dodush amazing comic! The idea belongs to them!

        Karen McCormick flew through the air. The car came out of nowhere, it happened so fast, she couldn’t even scream all she could do is reach her hand out, hoping to grab onto something, anything to stop her descent. The sky is so blue, it’s all that she sees when she crashes down, hitting the hard pavement with her face. She gasps for air, it hurts so much, oh god it hurts. Her bird thin chest is caved in, she can feel it. The blood rising in her lungs, choking her, she can’t breathe. All she can do is stare at the blue sky as she drowns in her blood.

She wakes up in her bed, coughing and trembling. She hugs her bear to her chest, her heart  still racing from the horrible dream. She can’t stop shaking.

 “It’s just a dream,” she mutters, “just a dream.” The words are a prayer, an incantation to banish the darkness. Dreams can’t hurt you not when you are awake. 

“Karen? Are you alright?” 

Her head shoots up and she looks at her doorway where Kenny is leaning against. His blonde hair is mussed and his face still has the imprint of his pillow but his dark eyes are wide awake as he looks at her. He’s gnawing his bottom lip with his teeth and his shoulders are tense. Karen sighs, he worries too much and she should tell him it’s nothing. But then she remembers the coppery taste of blood  and what if felt like to hear her bones shatter in her chest. 

“I-I had a bad dream. That’s all and it’s nothing, really. But it kinda freaked me out,” she finally admits, scooting over so he can sit down next to her. She really needed one of Kenny’s famous hugs. 

Kenny’s shoulders slouches down and he smiles.

“What was the dream about? I bet I can help, big brothers have special powers against bad dreams. Was it the one where you were getting married to Mr. Garrison?” he jokes as he walks over to her bed, carefully setting his glass of water down on the floor before clambering on. 

Karen chuckles softly, and shakes her head. She can already feel the fear and pain begin to creep away and now she felt more like a little kid than ever. How dumb could she get? To get so scared of a dream like that? Kenny’s going to laugh at her.

“No, I wish. I dreamed that I died,” she smiles and shakes her head, “It’s silly right?” she says looking up expecting to see her brother’s warm smile. Instead, Kenny’s eyes are wide and his skin had turned pale. He lifts his trembling hands to bury them into his blond curls as he frantically shakes his head. Karen stares at him with alarm.

 “Kenny, are you alright? What’s the matter?” “It’s just a dream.”

“Kenny?”

 “Kenny? Please talk to me, you’re scaring me.” she pleads to her older brother as he rocks back and forth on her bed, still clutching at his hair and muttering under his breath. He lifts his teary eyes to look at her and the expression on his face knocks the breath out of Karen. His eyes look so dark and old, and incredibly sad, such sadness it makes her want to cry. She wraps her small arms around him. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” she coos against him, “I’m alright, just a dream. Nothing bad is going to happen.” 

Kenny takes a shuddering breath and turns to grab Karen into a hug. He holds her tightly, as if he’s scared to let go. 

“You’re right Kare-Bear. Just a dream. I’m bein dumb, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Ever.”

Karen smiles and snuggles closer into him. “You big goof. Of course, I’ll be fine. I have you, don’t I? You’re my guardian angel.” 

Kenny is silent but Karen can still feel him trembling. She closes her eyes. It was just a weird dream. That’s all. Her big brother worries too much. She’ll be fine. 

On Monday, she falls down a well and breaks her legs.

   The well was hidden under centuries of dead leaves and she just happened to walk over it. She stares at the glistening white shards of bones that are jutting out of her right leg and promptly vomits. She screams for help, but her wails are lost to the wind and the happy cacophony of the carnival that rolled into town. She screams and screams until so much blood has pooled out of her leg, thick and red like cough syrup. All she can see is red when she closes her eyes. 

    On Tuesday, she is electrocuted. She is floating down the Lazy River at the water park. Ike and Tricia had gone to get ice cream but they would be back, then they would hit the wave pool. This was the best field trip ever. Karen smiles as the warm sun beats down her face, her fingers dangling in the cool water. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up, already imagining the gorgeous tan that she’s probably getting. She doesn’t notice the giant T.V that plays advertisements and water safety tips, wobbling. It hangs above the Lazy River but when the wire snaps, it comes crashing down, narrowly missing her. She is launched from her tube and into the water where the only thing she sees is sharp, blinding white light that sears into her as she arches back. Her skin blisters and fries in the water. All she can see is white when she closes her eyes. 

    On Wednesday, she is dragged by a train. She is playing with Ike and Firkle on the train tracks. Ike is pleading with Firkle to not try and summon any demons and she’s laughing because of course he will. Look at him, he already has his mom’s Yankee Vanilla Candle and a package of Twizzlers as offering. They don’t notice the train until the shrill whistle pierces the air. Ike and Firkle scramble off but she’s caught. Her shoelace is tangled in a loose screw and she’s tugging to get it out but it just won’t. She frantically tries to tug her shoe off but her hands are shaking too bad, and it’s coming closer, and closer and why won’t this fucking shoe just come off. She can hear Ike screaming but just as she’s wriggled her foot free, there is the train. Like a charging metal bull, it hits and her world explodes in metal and pain as she is caught under the wheels. At the end, she is more hamburger meat than a little girl, barely conscious, the last thing she hears is Ike’s screams and Firkle’s rage at the bastards. All she can see is the chipped green paint of the train as she closes her eyes. 

     On Thursday, she is burned alive. She’s in the car, waiting for her mom to finish buying a pack of smokes from the gas station. It’s fine, boring really as she leans her head against the window, listening to the newest tween bop song. The song had just ended when she  feels a crash that jolts the car. The air bags whip out, pressing her further into her seat as the car careens away, crushed now like a bent tuna can. Her head is still ringing when she smells the smoke. Black clouds erupt from the hood of the car, she watches transfixed as flames begins to lick the insides of the car. It’s getting hotter and hotter but she can’t move. Her arms hangs useless at her side, like a broken wing of a bird, she can’t escape. She sees the dark shadows of people thumping on the glass trying to reach her as she screams and melts. All she can see is thick black smoke as she closes her eyes. 

    On Friday, she is shot in front of the school. Eco-terrorists had taken them hostage, claiming that the Colorado school children has doomed their planet. They strut in front of the gym, holding rifles pointed straight at them. She huddles with her class, her eyes searching for Kenny. He would know what to do, she doesn’t see one of them reaching for her until it’s too late. The ring leader yanks her by her long, brown hair and drags her to the front where he throws her down. He screams more obscenities at the shocked school and places his cold gun against her forehead. She is shaking but just as he is about to pull the trigger, a hail of gun fire shoots through the windows. The Eco-terrorist reels back, his mouth open as blood streams from a neat bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Karen sobs with relief and stands with shaky legs. She sees Kenny across the crowd of running, screaming kids. She runs to him but just as she is about to grab onto him, a shot rings out. It goes through her neck and she falls into his arms. Kenny sobs as he holds his dying sister. She reaches up to brush away away his tears but her hand falls limply back down. All she can see is the bright orange of her big brother’s jacket as she closes her eyes. 

On Saturday, she wakes up in her bed and sees Kenny sitting on the floor. His head is buried into his arms and he’s hunched forward. 

“Hey Kenny? I keep having these nightmares, every night. I keep dying but-but- god, Kenny, I don’t remember falling asleep. They’re just dreams right? But why can’t I remember going to sleep? Or coming home? Why? Wh-what’s happening to me?” 

Karen lays an arm across her face as more tears begin to flow. It hurt, every single death. It hurt so bad. Dreams aren’t supposed to hurt. Why then? Why do these feel like memories rather than dreams. Kenny slowly stands up and turns to face his sister. His eyes are blood-shot red and he has dark bags underneath. His face is pale and cold as marble. 

“Come on, Kare-Bear. I have to show you something.” 

  Karen sniffles and nods. She scrubs at her face with her chapped hands and slips out of bed. She doesn’t bother changing, it seems like she’s always in the same outfit. The two McCormick children silently walk out of the house. The whole town is still asleep as the sky lightens to a dusty pink.

   Kenny reaches the cemetery and boosts his sister over the metal gate. Karen falls down with a thud onto the grass, she warily looks at the audience of graves that stares at the two intruders. Kenny swings over the fence and lands on his feet. Without a glance to his sister, he takes off, weaving around the head stones like he’s done this so many time before. Karen follows, barely keeping up as they reach the edge of the grave yard where it bleeds into the thorny forest. 

  Kenny stops and kneels down in front of a small, stone grave. It’s barely peeping out of the ground and it’s covered with dirt and moss but as Kenny gently rubs it off, Karen is able to read the words.

“Kenny McCormick? Age 10? What, what is this?” she’s looks up at him with pleading eyes, hoping that at any moment, he would grin and ruffle her hair, saying it was all some, sick joke. 

Instead he slides down against the head stone and stares up at Karen with those sad, ancient eyes. 

“Those aren’t dreams, Karen. You are actually dying. Every day. And no one will remember, no one but you. It happened to me. Still does, actually, just not as much lately. And I’m so fucking sorry, Karen. I didn’t think this would happen, not to you. But, I-I-I can’t protect you anymore.” he bursts into tears, pulling his hoodie over his head and burying his face into his drawn up knees. Karen stares down at him, feeling her world shatter as her big brother, her guardian angel finally reveals how broken he is. She swallows, and sits down beside him. She looks up at the sky, it’s unfair at how pretty the world is, at how the birds can still sing even as her world crumbles around her. She grabs Kenny’s hand and leans her head against his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Ken. There’s one upside to this dying business all the time.” she mummers to him. Kenny snorts in disbelief, his voice scratchy and brittle as he asks, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Karen looks up at him and smiles, “Well it means that when I’ll get older, I’m going to be just like you. I’m going to be as brave and kind as you are. You’re the strongest person, I know and you don’t have to worry. I’m going to protect you. No matter what.” 

Kenny’s eyes fill with tears once more and he lunges forward to wrap her in a big hug. 

“God, you’re the best fucking little sister. And I’m so sorry. It’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair. I’m so sorry.” he chants over and over again as he rocks her back and forth. 

Karen clings back just as tightly and watches as the sun rises up over the hills. She feels older now. And a touch more sadder. She smiles wistfully. 

“We’re McCormicks. Life is never fair” 

[secret-rendezvous1d]

For When You’re Missing Me.

NO REQUEST.

This is just something that the smut side of my brain decided to spring upon me, late at night, having stumbled upon a particular video that sparked the idea. My first piece of smut writing for 2018 (I know it’s almost mid-2018 but... deal with it) and, hopefully, the first of many, many more to come this year. Some WIPs that I’ve been working on and have been sitting in my drafts for some time, some new stories that conjure up in my brain, some old requests that have been sitting in my inbox for months and months, and some stories I’ve been promising for a while but haven’t quite gotten around to writing yet.

I’m trying out something new with this piece. Smut is usually a very quick scene that I write. Limited detail. Rushed in some areas. When it comes to smut, the dialogue side of things is something that I’m not so good with, so I hope this suffices and doesn’t make the story too... cringe. 

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE PIECE OF WRITING. PURE SMUT. ALL FILTH. SOME MATURE LANGUAGE USED AND MATURE SCENES. PLEASE READ IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH READING THAT KIND OF STORY. 

Feedback would be insanely appreciated.

IDEA BASED ON THIS VIDEO, HERE.

Word Count; 12k+ (what the hell?)

Enjoy. xx

Harry loved his job.

He loved that he was living the dream that he had as a child. The dream he told his mother about, the dream that his father was willing to help pursue, the dream that his grandparents became the biggest supporters of, the dream that his sister never made fun of him for and the dream that his friends always spoke so positively about. When teachers at school asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, what he wanted to do when he left school, he would tell them he wanted to be a singer. A performer who was known for the good times he threw in front of thousands of fans every night, in venues that his idols performed in and in venues that held hundreds of people, working his way to the top until he was performing in front of thousands and thousands of fans. Like a future Mick Jagger. The modern day Elvis Presley. The male version of Stevie Nicks. A singer who wanted to be known for singing his favourite songs, for supporting the biggest campaigns and participating in charity events that were broadcast all over the UK, singing his own songs, putting across strong messages and creating an atmosphere that people enjoyed being in, that they felt safe in; because he’d been to concerts as he grew up and he’d been to places that had live bands and live musicians showcasing their own work and he wanted to do that, too.

He loved that his dream career had become his full-time career. In the space of 5 years, he’d gone from someone who worked in a bakery on Saturday’s and studied during weekdays to someone who was receiving number one singles and awards that he had earned with his friends and cracking every continent on the planet. No longer having to sing on a karaoke machine in the living room and no longer driving his family insane from singing the same song on repeat, no longer having to participate in school talent shows with White Eskimo, no longer having to ask people for the truth about how good they thought he was because he had the stamp of approval from one of music’s highest moguls, no longer being asked to perform at family or friend’s or family friend’s weddings and social gatherings during a twenty-minute slot assigned for entertainment, and no longer needing to work hard to be seen by a talent scout that his school had brought by or to be noticed by someone who might offer him the chance of a lifetime because it as clear that he was already there. He was at the top of the chain of musicians, in a band that was widely spoken about and had become a household name, up at the top of the list with artists he had grown to love as a young boy, during family road trips and playing on the record player on a Sunday afternoon - and he fucking loved that.

He loved that his life now consisted of singing and meeting fans who had waited ages for One Direction to step foot on their land, who had brought tickets to see them and were the real reason they were at the top of the chain of musical artists, and he loved that he was given the opportunity to travel all over the world because every day of his life was a day where he was introduced to somewhere new, introduced to someone new, introduced to a world that he was still so fresh in. Exploring the countries he’d always wanted to go to but never had the privilege as a child, taking in the sights that he’s always wanted to see but could only see them in geography books and magazines, that he’d learnt about in primary school geography and begged his mother to take him to, and being able to turn into a tourist during his days off with a camera, brought with his own income, as he documented every place he stumbled upon to keep as memories for the future. To share with his future children and his future grandchildren so he could be the grandfather who told the most wicked stories, ever. From quaint towns in the mountains that were barely populated with 100 people to sweet villages that were brimming with life and sold homemade treats and trinkets and made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Because relaxing days off weren’t so common for him anymore and he liked to the cease every chance he got to be himself. Where he didn’t have to worry about his name being whispered around.

But the one thing he hated - and it was only the one thing - was sleeping in beds and staying in places that just weren’t home.

To anyone else, they would snicker at the double entendre.

And he would simply tut and shake his head and show his unamused distaste of being someone’s act of entertainment because of what modern day society had done to people’s pure minds.

Harry Styles, the teenage boy who had grown up with all the looks and the charm, who was the womaniser of the most prestigious and popular boyband, hated hooking up with the women? Who hated taking advantage of his status and turned down all the women who fell at his feet and purely stuck his nose up at the idea of waking up in unfamiliar territory. Beds that were far too unfamiliar for him, in a part of the city that he never planned on visiting, in rooms that he’d never seen in his life and knew, from the smell and the feel of the sheets and the atmosphere of the room, that was far, far away from his hotel rooms.

But to everyone else, from his family to the woman he adored and loved to share a bed and a home with to his close best friends and commonly aquatinted mutuals, it was far from something amusing and much rather something that was completely understandable. That was met with nods, a clap on the shoulder, and Everyone knew he liked his own comfort and you, for first hand experience, knew he liked to be in places he was entirely familiar with. YN knew he found it awkward to sleep in beds that he hadn’t slept before - he struggle the first night he slept in hers - and she knew that he liked his own personal space and a room that was all him - or had aspects that were him, whether it be a deodorant bottle on the vanity or a pair of shoes tucked into the corner or a bottle of fresh cologne beside her perfume bottle. That he felt more at home when he was staying in a place that was considered as home.

The hotel in Seattle couldn’t have been further from what felt like home.

The room was small, and he didn’t need to strain his neck to look around, and it was perfectly fitting for just one person - it was a single room, to be honest - with a couple of windows that were smeared with cleaning products, having been wiped after the last person who had stayed in the room, and a view of the hotel pool rather than overlooking the skyline. Which was a view he liked to see when he woke up in the mornings and when jetlag kept him awake at nights; seeing people sunbathing just never felt right to him. It wasn’t like any other hotel he’d slept in before... not that he was materialistic and thought he was worthy of 5 star rooms that looked like apartments and was double the size of his girlfriend’s flat. He didn’t mind not having luxurious rooms fit for royalty because he was happy to have a roof over his head and bed to sleep in for the night. The bed had a squeaky mattress that was too solid for him to lay comfortably upon, it didn’t have his body imprint left behind for him to find as he rolled around and shuffled under the duvet that covered him, and it didn’t have a pillow that completely swallowed the back of his head and gave him intense comfort. It didn’t have the intoxicating smell of his girlfriend lingering in the small space around it, the room didn’t hold them fruity smell of her body spray and it didn’t emit warmth like his bed did back home. The sheets were itchy and scratchy against his bare skin, far from the soft cotton that clung to his own king-sized mattress, and the duvet cover felt like paper... and, if he was being honest, he was sure the pillow had crumpled balls of paper pushed into the pillowcase to fill it out because the pillow didn’t quite succeed its purpose. His feet hung over the end and he knew he needed to curl up to ensure his toes didn’t get cold through the night, only putting pressure on the small of his back and creating kinks that would become trouble throughout his busy days, that might potentially cause him to be winded on stage during a performance. The floor looked like something from a motel in horror movies and it was scratchy beneath the surface of his feet and the light shades were old-fashioned and shaped like overturned tulips.

He missed London and he missed his own home and he missed his own comforting environment more than he had ever done before.

Harry dropped his wallet, his key-card and his phone, encased in a pink and rubbery case, upon the small table beside the en-suite bathroom door, sighing heavily as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Wiping away the sleep that made them feel like they had slits slashed across them with the burning blade of a knife and aiding to the ache that lingered because, even though he felt tired and knew he would probably drop off as soon as his head hit the pillow, his adrenaline-fueled mind just hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of him yet. His suede boots becoming heavy upon his feet, weighing down every step he took and causing him to scuff with each footstep that took his further into the room, as he toed them off and kicked them in the direction of his suitcase.

Outside his room, and scuffing down the corridor, he could hear the rowdy chatter and the heavy footsteps and the cackling laughter belonging Louis and Niall as they made their way to their rooms - Liam having travelled back with Sophia, as soon as the after-show excitement had come to its gradual end - discussing the events of the night, reminiscing on how the show had gone for them and expressing their feelings in how they couldn’t wait to explore the city of Seattle on their day off, the next day, before a late-night flight to Vancouver. Because, as sad as it was to think about, it was the last time they would be exploring the state as a group.

Oh, and that was another thing that Harry hated about his job.

Not necessarily hating it all of the time (because he felt so privileged by it) but hating it most of the time; exploring the cities that One Direction were lucky to perform in, taking in the sights around and learning never-before-heard facts that were fascinating to have stumbled upon, without the one person he wanted to have by his side, snapping candids and capturing the moment with a camera - his girlfriend. Always promising to take her anywhere she wanted to go, anywhere she wanted to explore, to be anywhere in the world that caught her eye, so she could say she’d been there. He felt like he was cheating her, as silly as he sounded, and he was making promises that he knew would take a long while before he fulfilled them.

He crouched down beside his suitcase, toes cracking underneath his weight, and pushed open the top after having left it foolishly unzipped when he was in a haste to leave the room after giving in to Niall’s consistent bangs against the door of his room when he was in charge of making sure they were all meeting in the lobby on time, letting it fall to the floor with a rattle. Zips clinking together. His neatly packed case making him rather frustrated, because he would only need to re-pack it neatly for the journey to the next city, as he rummaged around for a clean pair of boxers and a tee shirt to sleep in; usually, and rather frequently, he would sleep in the shirt that he had performed in (because YN wasn’t there to steal it from him), but, the grey material was soaked with sweat and clung to his back in an uncomfortable manner. Like a second skin that covered his torso. And as much as it hadn’t bothered him at the time, it was beginning to make him feel gross. The shower calling his name, his hair, that was almost instantly tied up in a bun before the journey back to the hotel, begging for a wash, and his back screaming to be rid the discomfort that he chose to ignore - he could freshen up tomorrow.

As he slung a clean shirt over his shoulder, he discovered an envelope. 

A white envelope, that was no bigger than the stretched out palm of his hand, tucked in between a suede boot and his gym trainers - the ones that he knew his girlfriend hated but wore them anyway because they were comfy and felt light on his feet as he jogged on a treadmill and threw a few punches at a personal trainer’s mitts - keeping it as flat as possible. Fresh boxers draped over his shoulder, brushing over his cheek, as his nimble fingers pulled the paper from the contents of his case. His name was written in a beautiful cursive script, right in the middle with a couple of ‘x’s underneath, accompanied by a lipstick kiss pressed to the corner in his favourite shade - a magenta that was bold and prominent and smeared a little at the corners.

His finger tore open the seal and he immediately hit another piece of paper that had been folded once and then once again and, knowing his girlfriend like the back of his hand, probably folded a final time to keep it as secure and as tight as she could have possibly made it. Something heavy settled in the corner and capturing his mind with curiosity; it was definitely from his girlfriend, definitely addressed to him, but what on earth could she be giving to him? 

A note...

... and an SD card belonging to one of her cameras.

Harry,


If you’re reading this then you’ve found my little surprise!

I didn’t tell you about what I had planned for you because I knew you’d go looking for it - I know you and you just can’t resist yourself - so I wanted you to find it by yourself, when you were least expecting it.

I don’t know how long it took for you to find it, I don’t know where you’re reading this, what country you’re in or what the time is, I don’t know when you’re reading this or under what circumstance, but what I do know is that you’re missing me more than you thought you would. Don’t lie to me. I’m missing you, too. So, I hope my little surprise will make you miss me a little less. Regardless of when you’re reading this, I’ll see you very, very soon and I’m really looking forward to that.

Make sure you lock whatever room door you’re behind, make sure you’re alone, make sure you’re not going to have any interruptions and make sure you have no plans that will coincide with what I have planned for the next fifteen to twenty minutes... maybe longer... depending on how things go. Enjoy yourself because this is something special, made by me, that is just for you. JUST FOR YOU. No one else. For your eyes only. (And I mean that, too).


I adore you. Always.


Love you. xxxx

He tipped it over and let the SD card drop into the middle of his palm. Fogged plastic landing upon his skin, blurring out the label of the black-coloured SD card, with a scribbled heart drawn in the middle with a red Sharpie. A red pen that was, without a doubt, from the collection in his office that he had hidden in his drawer that had the sole purpose on making changes in his schedules and for writing on demo CD’s to be sent off to different artists who had requested his help in songwriting or to be given to his management office across the pond so they could listen to what he’d been working on and to see and hear the well-thought out title of a single that he wanted in the charts. A pen collection that he would always find in her office but hadn’t ever gotten upset over because she always did something so wonderfully colourful with them.

And he wasted no time in rummaging around for his laptop. Whatever was on that SD card, whatever he was going to be met with upon the screen and whatever she was going to be surprising him with was something that got him excited. Tingling from the inside out. Whatever was happening on social media and whoever was tagging him in tweets and in Instagram posts, whatever was making his phone buzz and whoever was sending him messages and making his notifications go crazy, yeah... they can wait, he thought. Butterflies erupting in his gut, fluttering around and tickling all around, pulsing blood through his veins.

Perching down on the end of the neatly-made bed, which made him feel slightly guilty because he’d left the bed in a right mucky state when he’d woken up that morning, he used his teeth and one hand to open the card holder whilst balancing the base of his laptop upon his thighs, using his free hand to open the lid, to type in his password and to direct the mouse to the bottom left corner.

It was was so close to being known and he was expecting something that was from both sides of the spectrum.

On the one hand, he was expecting something sweet and adorable, something that screamed YN. Like a little montage of photos and videos that she’d taken and managed to find from their shared iCloud, putting them all together into a digital photo album, with a song that meant a lot to them (one that they sung together, that they played in the car, that they hummed during dinner, that they always turned up when it came on the radio), with a sappy message at the end that, annoyingly, made him cry. She said it would make him miss her a little less and that would definitely work... but it would also make him miss her a little more than he liked to admit to anyone. Even to her.

But, on the other hand, it could have been a cheeky montage of photos that she’d taken, without his knowledge, that ranged from nudes to lingerie shots to close-up selfies that looked incredibly realistic to her ‘Harry’s just fucked me really rough’ face. A face that had a mix of her mascara and her tears running down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead with sweat and her lipstick smeared across her lips and the underside of her nose - his favourite look.

He squinted at the screen to see the title.

JUST WANT UR COCK BUT THIS WILL HAVE 2 DO

What will have to do? What was he about to see? To witness? 

What was this surprise?

He cautiously double-clicked on the small folder that appeared once he pushed the card into the slot at the side of his laptop, his eyes darting nervously from the bright screen to the door of his hotel room, silently praying that Paul, or anyone from the crew, didn’t walk in to tell him “light’s out, big guy. Busy day tomorrow”. A paused screen going straight to full-screen mode, showing the smiling face of his girlfriend, who was half-naked and had one of his button-up shirts covering her exposed breasts. Her nipples erect and almost tearng through the material.

“’ello, my sweet peach.”

He grinned widely, on instinct, because he’d really missed her voice. Hotel rooms sounded eery when she wasn’t there to fill the silence with her cackles and her garbage talk about why pigeons looked the way they did or how planes managed to stay in the air despite being made from metal - he hated those types of conversations but had really grown to miss them when they weren’t there to drive him insane.

“Wait, no. That sounded weird. Sweet peach. Let me start this again. Sorry.”

He chuckled lightly when the screen went black, cutting off from, what he imagined was, a mistake that she had left in for humours sake that was there just to make him laugh. The seconds still ticking away at the bottom of the screen and he chose to sit and patiently wait. Her face, no longer than a couple of seconds more, soon appearing back on his screen. Closer than it was beforehand, with the buttons of his shirt, that were done up to help keep her breasts covered, now unbuttoned and allowing the flaps to open with each movement she made.

“Hi, mister. Hey. Hello... ohhh, yeah, that felt so much better. Nice and simple.”

He snorted; he wanted to say he loved her little, out-of-the-blue nickname because ‘Peaches’ was a newfound pet name she was experimenting with, just a little personal something between the two of them before she took to using it in the world outside, but, if he had to be honest, he preferred her second attempt. It was sweet and natural and very YN. 

‘Mister’ was what she called him on a regular basis, had been since their first date, whether it be to sweet-talk him or when it casually slipped out during a conversation at breakfast or from beneath the shower, and it had slowly become on of his favourite nicknames for himself. A difference from the common H or Haz that his friends called him.

‘Missus’ slowly becoming part of his vocabulary just so he could match with her. So they could be that cheesy couple who had the cute nicknames and made their friends gag dramatically in their presence but fawn over them in the distance.

“I’m guessing that, since you’re watching this, you’re all alone and in an empty hotel room and feeling a little lonely and missing me, yeah? You found this in your luggage, realised you missed me, and just wanted to see what I had for you, is that right? I imagine you’re feeling a little horny, too? Since you saw the title. And you just want me there, sucking you off, making you cum, and making you feel good, right? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A long while,” he mumbled to himself, gulping thickly as he pressed pause, and released a deep sigh. The door needed to be locked and he needed to be naked, if not completely than definitely, from the waist down. This wasn’t a case of slipping his hands into his pants and trying to be discrete about the whole thing; he was on his own, and he would be till morning, and he had no need to worry about being interrupted with someone who was eager to see him. With her looking like that, dressed in his clothes, with a sultry voice being used to talk to him, he had a feeling this wasn’t something that was quiet, meant to be soft and made just to make him cry. “A really long while.”

He stood up from the mattress, discarding his laptop to the side of him, as he unbuttoned his black jeans on the way to lock the door, grabbing a ‘do not disturb’ sign on his way passed the small table that he bumped into upon both of his arrivals into the room that day, sticking his head out of the door as he hung it on the handle. Grinning to himself because if anyone noticed, he would be ridiculed and teased. He wouldn’t mind what they thought though. He didn’t think any one else, from the crew to the boys to the strangers who walked passed in the night, had a loving partner as surprising and as thoughtful as his own and, deep down, he liked how jealous he would be making them.

He shimmied out of his jeans, letting them pool at his ankles as he stepped out of them and left them in the middle of the room, his sweat-soaked t-shirt soon joining the black denim. Hobbling around on one foot as he tugged off his socks and threw them over his shoulders, not particularly fussed about where they landed, darting to the window to pull the sheer curtains to a close. Almost succumbing the room to complete darkness if it wasn’t for the yellow glow that emitted from the lamp on the bedside table - he could deal with that. Tugging off his boxers and leaving them on the floor, closer to the bed than his other garments, he situated himself against the headboard because, over the many years of having to have solo orgasms when his cock wouldn’t soften and wanking until he could no longer wank, he’d found that was the most comfortable position to be in. 

Using his foot to reach for his laptop, pulling it close with the arch of his ankle and leaving it be on the empty side of the bed, stretching out his thumb to press the space-bar. Her voice, yet again, filling the quiet room.

“I thought I’d treat you to a little something special,” was the first thing she said when the video continued, “so consider this as my way of apologising for not being able to travel with you on the first few legs of your last tour with the boys. Should’ve tagged along, really. I bet you’re having a great time though. With all the lads, having lad fun and being all lad-y. Although you’ll probably tell me you aren’t because you miss me and want me with you because you always enjoy having me around. I think that might be something to do with me being your personal groupie though. Going to all the shows, squeezing in a shag in afterwards, but never saying goodbye to me because I’m your girlfriend and I’m always there in the mornings.”

He smiled a little, shyly amused, and dropped his chin to his chest; she found humour in reading about his X Factor days and how 16-year old Harry was a little bugger when it came to the ladies. Comparing him to the Harry she knew because she could see that näive teen streak, showing at times but remaining hidden, still inside him. He knew she had stumbled - well, she says stumbled but he knows there was more to it than her coming across it during her time in the toilet - upon an old story, about him and Zayn and a couple of girls who had followed them around on the duration of their very first tour. Finding it funny to use “Christabelle Riley” when she felt annoyed with him or when she wanted to be downright annoying to him or when she wanted to make him squirm because she was in one of her playful moods. The name being one that he wished she’d drop because it was something about his past he wished to forget all about - he was a serious artist. Wanted to be taken for more than just his ‘groupie’ past.

“Do you remember that gift you brought me a while back? For my birthday? The one that you had to hide away from the rest of the presents, in the corner of the garage, because our parents were there?”

Sybian - that’s what the website said it was called.

And how could he forget about it? It would be impossible to. He had never heard of one before, let alone seen one, so he almost spunked in his pants when he stumbled upon it. On the dark side of a website specifically for sex-toys, different bottles of lube and specially-made lingerie that weren’t just to look good on the body but were also made to help encourage the feeling of pleasure - pouches in the knickers, vibrating knickers, role-play outfits of all sorts and latex garments that accentuated every curve of it’s wearer. Having ordered it at a time when he couldn’t spunk in his pants; when he had a spare few minutes from doing a chunk of recording in the recording booth, when Jeff was out on a call from his father and his band were out getting a bite to eat, having promised to bring him a sandwich and a water from the shop on the corner.

“Well, I’ve only used it once, just to test it out, and I thought it would be a perfect piece of footage to give to you, whilst you’re away, so that you have a little piece of me as to not miss me so much. Something sexy so you don’t need to stare at photos or watch porn. I see your web history after you say you’re ‘going for a nap’, you dirty prick.”

He feels his cheeks heat up.

Even though she knew that he was a avid watcher of amateur porn videos and even though she knew he turned to Pornhub when he was having difficulties feeling satisfied, he still felt embarrassed when she called him out on it. Having been caught one afternoon, when she was supposed to be spending the whole day with his mother, with his hand around his cock and a body that was spread out on the bed with clothes all over the floor, as he watched an amateur teen having the time of her life with a vibrator as she spoke dirtily to the man to the side of the frame, she hadn’t let him live it down. She watched him, she watched the video, and she waited for him to finish before she made her presence known and his face was purely picture-perfect. His mouth in the shape of an O, his eyes wide and watering at the corners, his cheeks heated and flushed, his hair completely tousled after he’d tugged and pulled his strands and his thighs were still quaking. Picture. Bloody. Perfect.

“It makes a difference from all those other videos that I send to you, as well. The ten second Snapchat stories or the grainy iPhone camera videos that you get to see when you wake up. The is done on my proper camera. My blogging camera. Professional and all that. And, unless you lose this SD card, it’s just yours and no one elses. It won’t get leaked, it won’t get downloaded, and my modesty, and my dignity, will forever be in tact. My boobs are yours to see. Not the world. And, as much as I love the toys we have and the dildo’s you’ve brought me that are all shaped like you, this has to be one of my favourite things to play with. So, thank you for buying it for me. We can both have some fun with this.”

Riding a prick was something that he didn’t think about too often. Of course, he’d explored around as a teenager and he’d slipped a finger in and what have you, had the opportunity to find what really got him going, but having a cock sit heavy in a place that burned with the thickness of a finger was something that he wasn’t desperate to try. That wasn’t on the top of his fantasy list. It was something that he’d brought just for her to use when she was missing his body to straddle rather than penetrating his hole that was foreign in the act of anal and had only been visited once in the past... by her tongue and a thumb and forefinger.

The memory, on its own, was enough to make him shudder. A good shudder, of course. The kind that came from something that felt really good, really pleasurable and came from something that had good intentions behind it, and he knew that experimenting around would bring him immense pleasure.

“Tonight, from me to you, I’ll be riding this.”

He felt his cock twitch when she jazz-handed as a way to show it off, involuntarily and almost reflexive against his stomach, much like it did when she happened to be wearing something that got his motor running or did something that he found rather enticing - like it did when she hunched over in front of him and allowed him the chancing moment to peek down her top and to stare at her boobs cupped so delicately by a pale-yellow bra or when she purposefully bent over in front of him and gave her bum a wiggle because she knew he couldn’t let the moment go unseen. He let out a choked sob of relief when he gave his base a soft squeeze, dropping his head back against the headboard as he slowly pulled his fist all the way to the top of his shaft, his foreskin tickling his length underneath his heavy and rather sweaty palm.

His other hand slipped down his body, his fingers toying with the pebbled nipple to the right of his chest before he ghosted the tips down his abdomen and down passed his belly button, itching at the underside of his belly and feeling his stomach contract as he brushed over a slightly ticklish portion of skin, until he was happy on where they had settled. Course hair, thick and dark and looking a little unruly (“a trunk as thick as yours always needs a little grass around the base” is what she’d always told him when he questioned whether to shave or trim) at the touch of his fingertips, enough to grab in small clumps and long enough to not lose a grip of. A strangled moan bouncing around the insides of his mouth before it escaped the small gap made when he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

Her virtual presence, so bright and infectious upon his laptop screen, was there for his disposal and for his needs and, due to how delectable she looked, it was easy for him to let his imagination run wild inside his mind. Plain and simple for him to imagine that he was balls-deep inside of her. Sinking into the most desirable, cavernous-like space so deep and filling her up so nicely and deliciously, with her slick walls clenching and squeezing around him in the way that he just loves, in a way that could never be forgotten because it felt so pleasurable. So insanely good. How her legs would almost always spasm and how her thighs would quake and how she would shiver and pierce his back with her fingernails as he pounds into her and fucks her through her euphoric high.

His hips jut upwards impulsively and he tears his hands away from his pubis, thick with hair, and tucks them between his open thighs, his little finger resting perfectly against the crease where his thigh met the curve beneath of his pubic bone, and he begins to fondle his balls gently. Rolling them between his fingers, cupping them and almost making juggling motions (juggling - which he had become a professional at doing) and making the muscles of his stomach tighten even more.

“So good, so good... fuck.”

In his mind, she’s saying his name. Well, not exactly saying it... more like mewling it out from quivering lips. Eyes wide and staring into his, legs tight around his waist as he deeply grinds his hips into her, her orgasm being so visible through her coloured orbs as she cries and squeaks out her appreciation, as her fingers cling to his neck. The heels of her hands resting at the top of his neck, her nails scratching at his scalp as her fingers push through his hair, tugging harshly on the sweaty roots that were beginning to feel dirty and gross under her touch and the sensation, itself, was enough to make him loose his smooth rhythm...

On the screen and filtering out from the speakers, filling up the empty spaces in the air that was full of his deep panting and soft moans, she was deep in chatter - so far from where his imagination had taken him. He’s not sure what she’s talking about, really. She’s pointing at things, reaching out of the frame from things, grinning at the lens and toying with the hem of the shirt covering her body.

“... so, I guess I should explain to you how this works? It might make it a little easier for you. I’ll show you. It’s a fascinating piece of equipment,” she heightens herself on her knees and crawls forward a few centimetres, her hands coming up from her side to adjust the button-up that was flowing away from her torso. She stretches over and picks up, what seemed to be, a control box. A heavy block, that looked rather mechanical, that was coloured silver and black. “This is its remote control and it controls everything to do with this toy. The rotations. The vibrations. The speed of both. Oh, god, and I have full control so I’m like a dominant and a submissive all rolled into one,” she giggles, and it makes his heart skip a beat, with a contagious little squeak that had him letting out a chuckle - well, a loose breath of warm air pushing out from between his lips. “I can be tough on myself. Give myself a real go at it. Make myself cry and all that. Or I can be really soft and gentle. Calm it all down if it gets too much. I’m a softie so...”

She grins so widely before her shoulders slump and she drops from her height, her bum brushing over the carpet of the bedroom. And, as she stares at the camera with her hand wrapped around the fake, peach cock, he loses it. Completely and utterly loses it and gives in to the coil in his gut that was screaming out in mercy. Her eyes holding so much behind them as he squeezes his own shut, cumming hard as he continued to jerk his shaft, imagining her clamping down on him tightly as he filled her full of his thick juice. He wheezes, like he was winded and struggling to catch his breath, slumping down upon the mattress and ruffling the pillow that was trapped between his back and the base-board of the bed.

“... it’s extraordinary, Harry. I’ve never seen anything, or ridden anything, like it. This attachment is a wonder. My clit sits and rubs against here,” - she points to a small lump made in the rubber, scratching her nail over the grooves made for added pleasure - “you see the little bump? Well, I say little but it’s not. It’s like a lump. Yeah, uhm, that’s where my clit sits. The curve, it’s perfect, and the wiggly lines - I think they’re the grooves? Yeah, they make it so much better. The rest slips deep inside me,” - she strokes it like she would his cock and he glances down at his slippery, mushroom-shaped head, oozing cum and turning a deep shade of pink - “like your cock would do, but it doesn’t go as deep as you go, and it doesn’t fill me up as half as how you fill me up, but it feels so good. And it rotates and vibrates, too. Unfortunately, your cock doesn’t do that. It’d be cool, and a little weird, if it did. But I love it, nonetheless. It’s my favourite cock to ride. And these plastic ones will have to do until you get back to me.”

He wished he had something other than his hand.

He says he’s not adventurous in exploring new positions, new techniques upon one side of the relationship, but he’s all for experimenting with toys. He nicked one of her vibrators one night, for goodness sake! 

She had a couple of rounded-tip vibrators in her bedside drawer, she had a wand that was his preferred vibrator to use on her (and himself), and she had a small dildo collection (that he had stumbled upon when he was being a domestic house-boyfriend and cleaned the cupboards of their walk-in wardrobe) that, after much interrogation on his part, she said she used rather frequently. A shy promise to use one when he was home and when she was next in that mood. 

He had nothing but two hands and a vivid imagination.

“So, this is the rotation,” she twists the knob, with the “ROTATION” labelled beneath it, and there’s an abrupt sound that begins to crackle through his laptop speakers. His eyes completely focused on how fast it was spinning on the spot. “This is the fastest speed but that is way too fast for me. Maybe we’ll go that fast when I’m feeling a bit more courageous and feel more confident. Maybe when you’re here so I can focus on you and how you like to get off to me getting myself off. Because watching your hand around your cock, jerking yourself and cumming from your own touch, yeah, that really gets me going. Could watch you do that all day, like watching my favourite movie,” and she sports the naughtiest of smirks as she looks at the camera, sending him a cheeky wink, toying with the knob as she adjusts the speed to show him, “and, if it gets too crazy, I can just turn it down. And, if that gets too less and I need a little more, I can turn it back up and let it go crazy. Reaching inside and touching every inch of me. Not as good as you though, of course,” she slows down the rotations and adds a little force to the small switch at the bottom of the left-hand side, stopping the mechanical motion completely, “I’ll probably just go to the halfway mark. It was on a real slow rotation last time I used it and it took me forever to get to an orgasm. You’d have laughed. Called it a useless contraption and gave it a kick for not doing it’s job.”

Useless, of course, for not doing its assigned job in making her squirm and scream.

That was the reason he brought it, of course: to help fulfil the need and the desire for nothing but pure satisfaction when he wasn’t there to help her. It was junk if it didn’t serve it’s purpose.

“... the vibration though? Harry, it’s fucking crazy. You wouldn’t believe how good it feels. I had it on quite a quick vibration last time and, oh my god, you’d have to feel it yourself to understand how amazing it feels. It’s insane,” she smiles sweetly and it drives him nuts as he slumped down against the pillow, his non-existent double-chin resting against his chest as he switched his focus between his erect cock and his girlfriend, crawling backwards and setting herself up behind the mount, “are you ready? Make sure you’re on your own, yeah? Make sure there are no interruptions? Stick a sock or a tie on the door or something. Let people know you’re occupied and have no time to spare for anyone because this is for your eyes only, mister,” she points accusingly at the camera lens, at him, and he giggles tiredly, “do you understand me? If I find out that one of the boys has caught a look at me, you’re on the sofa for the next year. No sex, now blowies, no handjobs, or anything. You’ll have to resort to your hand.”

He knew she was serious because it had happened before. Not to the same extent as what she was implying, here, but... rather similarly.

They were fresh into a relationship, give or take eight months, when it happened.

Despite dropping the ‘L’ bomb just 5 months before, and with their first time being sexually intimate with one another just a short 2 months before, they were still exploring the excitement they could have with one another and they were still finding their own ways in dealing with the distance when he was country hopping for tours and promotional purposes and they were still trying to come to terms with being away from one another for so long. It’s when nudes were first introduced. When the very first video, filmed by her and sent to him, first happened. Of course, he had initiated it - she’d woken up, one morning, to a rather glorious photo that he had taken from the bathroom of whatever five star hotel room he was staying in, with everything on show and the cheekiest of grins on his face, without an inch of embarrassment written on his face. He seemed so happy. Pride was probably the correct way to describe it.  

Given the time difference between London and the States, she’d sent him one back... breasts on show, laced knickers at the bottom of the frame, with her bottom lip between her teeth and a seductive wink that closed her left eye... and it couldn’t have been sent a worser time.

Because she was inundated with messages that she had a feeling weren’t sent from her boyfriend. In the 244 days of being with him, she had never once seen his use slang or the common ‘text language’ that the kids were using, back in the day. Lots of ‘u’s rather than ‘you’s, lots of ‘2’s rather than ‘to’s, plenty of ‘z’s being added to the end of plural nouns rather than the usual ‘s’s and there were no ‘xx’s at the end of the texts and Harry never skipped out on sending a couple of little kisses at the end of each message he sent... never.

She couldn’t talk to the four boys for weeks. Could barely look them in the eyes because she felt so humiliated.

“... oh! Do I look good for you, baby? I hope so. I feel good with myself. Been wearing this for the majority of the evening. I bet you look pretty amazing, too. All spread out on the bed, completely naked and just the way I like you, with a little semi going on because we haven’t reached the real action yet but you know what’s about to come and you’ve gotten all excited.” 

She giggles sweetly and peels away the lapel of the white, intricately scattered with black polka-dots, button-up that draped down her torso, and she lets it fall off of her shoulder to show one of her breasts as she grabs at the soft flesh. Pinching her nipple and biting her lip as it sparked a reaction throughout her body, a cheeky wink sent to the camera before she rolled her shoulder swiftly, bringing the material back to cover her chest.

“Although, that one flash of my tit probably had you sporting a hard-on like a teenage boy seeing fanny for the first time.” 

It falls silent between both ends and all he can hear is his wheezing breaths as his chest rose and fell with each deep breath her took.

“Have you just come off stage? All high on adrenaline and you’re not sure what to do with yourself, yeah? You know I live for post-concert you. Sweaty, smelling a little dirty, t-shirt clinging to you, patches under your arms and your back completely soaked. You know how that gets me riled up, Peaches. When you smell like you’re already fucked out, like you’ve already been through a few rounds with me, when you’re all hot and bothered and eager to get that cock inside me.”

There was one night that came to mind; June 3, Edinburgh, 2014.

As soon as he stepped off stage, backstage at Murrayfield Stadium, she’d been glued to his side from the moment she gave him a kiss to congratulate him on such a remarkable show. Despite the horrendous smell that wafted from under his arms and despite the sticky sensation that he could feel all over his skin, she stayed tucked under his bicep as he thanked everyone for being so helpful, grabbed himself a chilled bottle of water and let the boys know he would be missing out on their scheduled boy’s night out because he knew he wouldn’t last long in a dingy bar, drinking his weight in tequila shots and cheap lagers, and being stared at, regardless of how many times he escaped eyelines. With a promise to head out with them when they arrived in London and getting everyone together to celebrate their return, he sunk his mouth into YN’s hair and they were out of the stadium before anyone could tell them to stop with their “disgusting PDA”.

She’d practically wanked him off in the car and ruined the orgasm that was building up in his belly, she’d left hickies all over his neck in the lift going up to their room and she’d tore his shirt at the collar in a haste to take it off, she’d hid her hand in the waistband of his jeans and squeezed his bum as they scuffed down the corridor and, as soon as the door to their hotel room had closed with a click against the lock, she’d whipped his trousers down and, without any hesitation, welcomed his semi-hard cock into the warmth of her mouth before they had the chance to make it out of the entryway.

To this day, he still wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that made his stamina break the bar on how long he could last or whether it was the excitement of sinking nice and fulfillingly into his girlfriend multiple times throughout the night... he was thankful for whatever it was though.

“Do you want to fuck me? I hope this video, me riding this, makes you want to fuck me even more. I hope it gets you excited to come home, to sink deep into me, to make me feel good. To make me feel even better than this ever could,” she scoffs to herself playfully and bangs a hand down on the arched mount, “let’s make a deal. I’ll cum for you if you cum for me.”

His eyes widened nervously as he took a glance down at his, what was once tight and almost in a death-like vice, fist. His fingers loosening from the grip he had upon his erect cock, letting it spring back against his slick stomach, splattering a few droplets of spunk that caught at his slit, the space of stretched skin between his thumb and his forefinger sporting a glow of his ejaculate; sticky against his flesh, dribbling down to his wrist and speckled upon the fuzz of his upper thigh because he was always messy when he came and, really, he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

“Bugger,” he mumbled lowly, coughing into his clean fist to clear his dry throat, “could’ve bloody said before I spunked, baby.”

“And you have to tell me how good it felt afterwards. I don’t care if I’m sleeping or if the time difference is wacko or if I’m busy and can’t get back to you right away. If I’m with your family or my family or out with friends. I want a simple text to tell me how could you feel after blowing a load over this video. To know that it’s done its purpose. Because this whole thing is to make you feel so good. Is that an okay deal? I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

He heard her cough and he watched the screen intensely as she taps her fingers against the black leather.

“Wrap your hand around your cock for me. And stroke it. Stroke it like I would for you. Up and down. A little squeezing. You know how it goes, don’t you? Keep doing that until you cum for me. Can you do that? You better be able to do that for me. I know you can and you don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

He shook his head, and he chuckled lightly because she couldn’t see him, and happily obliged. Tightening his hold upon his cock, for the second time, and wiping his sensitive head to evenly spread out the remnants of his orgasm. Wincing through clenched teeth as spasms of electricity shot through him, pulsing his veins more rapidly and throbbing in his hold. His mouth watering as he stared between her thighs.

“You know what my pussy looks like. But, here’s a little glance before it’s ruined by this contraption,” she says as she leans back on the mount, hands bracing her weight on the edge of the arch to stable herself as she pushes up, into an amateur crab position, to let the camera focus plainly upon the soft folds between her thighs, “remember how this looks, yeah? If you have to rewind it, rewind it. If you have to take a screenshot, take a screenshot. A photo with your phone or whatever. Because I’ll show you again, at the end, to show off how crazy this makes me feel,” she leans her weight on one hand and uses her forefinger and middle finger to spread her slick folds, letting him catch a couple of seconds of her, yet to be ruined, pussy before she settles back on her knees and lets the rounded tip brush over her clit, visibly shivering at the stretch of pleasure coursing her veins.

“I’m not going to lie. I’m a little nervous. You’re actually out with Nick right now, you know? Remember when you came home at the end of June? A couple of weeks ago? Spent a couple of days with me before you took off to America? Nick took you out for some beers and you’ve been out for a few hours now so you could be home at any minute.” - And he remembered this so vividly. How she’d given him a clean button-up and told him to not where black jeans because it was muggy out and he would have gotten hot, how she’d snuck into the shower with him when he was getting ready to leave and how she’d helped him shave because, the last time he shaved, he had missed a patch by his sideburn and looked utterly ridiculous. She’d made him a cheese and pickle sandwich with a cup of tea so he had his stomach lined before his night out and she’d ate her own dinner whilst he ate. He’d kissed her goodbye when Nick had arrived in the taxi and he’d begged her to give him a reason to stay at home because, deep down, he didn’t really want to spend the night with his friends and get pissed to the point where he would be vomiting all night and would end up with a rotten hangover by the time the morning came. He remembered how they’d teased him because he’d been glued to his phone the entire night, how he’d been texting his girlfriend because he missed her and didn’t feel right without her there, telling her how he should’ve been feasting on peanuts and drinking lagers but had chosen to stick to water and cokes, only for her to encourage him to have a good night because she could look after him in the morning, and he’d told her how it didn’t take long for Nick to start sweet-talking the bartender because he thought he was cute. How he’d walked through the door and tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on his face because YN was in stitches when she told him over breakfast the following morning, how he’d been sick in the bathtub because, apparently, the toilet was too far from the door, and how he’d been bedridden until his flight in the late hours of the evening. - “It’s exhilarating to know you could catch me but I really don’t want you to catch me. Because then this whole thing, this video and this surprise, would be ruined. It’ll be your loss. Your fault.”

He smirked and rolled his eyes - he still would’ve asked for the video to be in his possession and he knew she wouldn’t have been able to turn him down.

“Are you hard for me yet? I want you so badly, you know? Every time I want something to penetrate me, to slip between my walls, to fill me nice and deep, I’ll always think about how badly I want you. How badly I want you to penetrate me. How badly I want your cock to slip between my walls and how I want you to fill me up, nice and deep, and hitting all those delicious spots inside me. The ones that have me squirming underneath you.”

He could feel his second orgasm beginning to tip over the brink and his cock was involuntarily twitching, again, in his hand. His slit pulsating and his tip tingling and his veins making his shaft feel hot as he flicked his wrist in achingly slow jerks. He’d already had one and he was as sensitive as his teeth were to ice-cream - it was painful but it was pain that was delicious and enticing.

“If your mind wanders away from wanting to fuck me, that’s okay. You think about whatever you need to think about. If you want to think about these lips,” she points at her pink lips and using her finger to drag her bottom lip down, “wrapped around your cock, shining with your pre-cum and bright pink against your tip, then go ahead. If you want to think about this tongue,” she sticks out her tongue, flat and thick, and wags it from side to side, “licking you up and down and coating your balls with spit, then go ahead. You’ll be able to feel the real thing soon. Wrapping around the head of your cock. Sucking gently, at first, and getting harder and harder and harder. Until you can barely see straight,” she tickles her fingertip down her neck, down between her collarbones, down the middle of her torso and taps the hooded bundle of nerves at the top of her pubic bone,  “and, if you need to think about this pussy, riding you, going in and out of me,” she lets the dildo sink into her, reaching up inside her and settled so perfectly that it felt like it was breaking all kinds of walls to feel so good, “like this, then think about that. Think about my tight little pussy wrapped around you because I know how much you like to think about that. Know how much you love the feeling of me being completely wrapped around you.”

“... oh, what about my bum? Know you’ve slipped in once before. Could think about that, you know? Sliding in and out of there,” - he visibly shuddered. Because, little did she know, he thought about their first anal session whenever he needed to get off and was struggling to do so. Remembering how her bum was propped up by her pillow, how his hands cupped her ample cheeks with his fingers, how his cock laid perfectly where the crevice of her bum met the small of her back and how it felt so delightful as the newfound feeling, that was foreign to the both of them, took over. - “I know you liked how that felt, Peaches. Feels good, doesn’t it? When someone loves on your bum? When someone takes you to cloud nine by inflicting pleasure around the backside? Must give your bum some more loving when you get back home.”

He was too shy to ask her about exploring the area that was his backside, up front, so he would definitely hold her to that. Would even quote her, if he had to.

“Are you ready to start? I’m ready to start,” she stretches over and grabs the square remote control box, holding it tightly in her hand as the back rested against the bare flesh of her thigh, “there is one thing I forgot to tell you though. Might make you get there a little faster. This little contraption makes me squirt, you know? Feels so good that I just can’t help it. Thinking about you, it drives me insane, and I wish you could see this in person, Harry.”

His head snapped up just as she shrugged off his button-up; squirting? That was somewhat brand-new for the both of them. Sure, they’d spoken about it and he’d always wanted to try and make her have a wet orgasm that soaked his thighs and had her completely convulsing in his arms, and he’d googled all about it and whether it was normal and easy for all women to do, but they’d never reached the perfect moment to give it a try.

“Have to be hard now, right? Been naked for a little over five minutes. Had my tits on show for that long. You’ve probably already had one orgasm, hm? Watching me fuck this, imagining it being your cock, yeah?”

He so focused on her hips that her voice was only background noise for him. His complete upper jaw gnawing down on his bottom lip as he worked on stroking his cock hard and fast, quick and tight, fingers beginning to shake as his eyes squeezed shut. Her whines and her whimpers encouraging his orgasm and enticing it to spurt up his chest, beckoning it to escape and mix with his first.

He tried to hold himself off for a little while longer; it’s his second orgasm of the night and he wanted to milk the pleasure for as long as he possibly could. Wanted to feel every inch of it coursing his body. But, with each pump of his hand going up and down his girth and with each swipe of his thumb over the, deep shade of raspberry, head of his cock, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself and to contain his hips from bucking up into his fist. Watching his girlfriend squirming and whining and whimpering as she ground her hips down and round on the peach-coloured dildo, that was lucky enough to be feeding her the pleasure he should have been giving to her, and whilst picturing her pretty lips, now swollen and bright red from how she’d continuously bitten and nibbled to contain her squeals, wrapped around him, it was overbearing for him. Overwhelming, if you will, as his moans caught in his throat and his grunts rumbled through his chest.

He groaned with deep guttural passion, almost like a yelp that bounced off the walls and echoed around the quiet room, his mouth dropping open as he rolled his head back against the ball of his neck. The tips of his hair tickling at the space between his shoulder-blades, the top of his head bumping against the soft headboard behind him as he tugged his cock, flicking his finger beneath the ridge at the underside of his tip, gargling out a string of profanities as he shot an almost empty load across his thigh.

Her voice so broken as she spoke through her orgasm; “fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry.”

He watched as she bobbed up and down, grasping her left breast and squeezing the soft flesh as splashes of her release escape from between her thighs, coating the base of the dildo mount with droplets he could only wish he was there to taste. To lick clean. The desire assisting his orgasm as more cream coated the fuzz of his inner thigh.

“Remember when you fucked my throat?” She says with a crack in her words, “had me gagging around you because you were so thick and heavy? Touching the back of my throat and you had my eyes watering? S’exactly what my eyes are doing right now, Harry. You remember how that looked? Remember how you had my eyes leaking? How I was close to crying with so much pleasure? I bet you do. I bet you think about that so much. Pretty sure my throat needs that again soon. I’ve been practicing.”

Deepthroating her was a spur of the moment thing.

What started off as a sweet blowjob after a warm shower, with gentle kisses being pressed against his thighs and her tongue being so soft with his flaccid cock and her hands cupping his backside so delicately, had soon turned into something much more. When he was erect and hard in the palm of her hand. When he was leaking pre-cum and she was slicking up the dry skin with the natural lube he excreted. Her nails digging into the fleshy mounds of his bum (which, he was sure would draw blood to the surface - not that anyone would see) and her teeth dragged up and down the thin flesh and bumped over the tingling veins pulsing with blood, that covered his throbbing muscle, with each rough thrust he gave her mouth. Gurgling around him as she tried to whine and whimper and moan out to tell him how she wanted him to keep going, gagging and dribbling down her chin and onto her coffee-coloured thighs from how he broke the boundaries of her throat, his fingers raking through her hair as he pulled fistfuls to guide her up and down his cock.

He remembered how she couldn’t speak for days beyond that. How she smacked his arm, kicked him up the bum and wanted to yell at him, but couldn’t. How she had meetings with important sponsors and how she had trouble with speaking in a hushed tone because people were struggling to hear her. She blamed it on the start of a cold and, despite how terrible she was as a liar, was rather pleased when they brought it.

“I wish you were here, baby. Fuck,” she whimpers, the heels of her hands resting on the front arch of the large toy, his hips stopping the motion of going up and down as she rotated them around in circles. Fighting the rotation of the toy as it sunk deep into her. “Do you wish you were here, too? Watching me squirt like this? Helping me through my orgasms? I wish you were here to fuck me, Harry. Wish you were here to finish me off with your cock.”

And, oh gosh, how he wished he was there, too.

It didn’t feel right to be so far away from her, wanking over her and thinking of her as he jerked himself off in each country they visited,  and he wasn’t so sure he could last another month and a little bit longer without asking her to fly out to whatever city in America One Direction were next going to be in.

Her job was flexible and she could take her work anywhere in the world; that was one of the many perks to being a lifestyle, freelance blogger. A laptop in her bag, passport in her hand and a camera around her neck with cities all around that were full of picture-perfect moments that were momentarily opportune. So, surely, she wouldn’t mind swapping the four walls of her office back home to working from all over the world, right?

“Wish I was there, too,” he muttered, giving his cock one final tug before he let it spring back against his stomach, “so bad.”

He took his come down as a brief break. Letting his fingers relax as they had started to feel stiff, letting his cock feel a little cooler and to make sure he wasn’t overworking himself as he let it droop to one side, resting against the curve of his upper thigh and in a pool of his own spunk.

“Fuck, m’squirtin’, Harry. For you. You know what I’m thinking about?”

He smiled tiredly and watched her as she sunk down, knees pushing into the carpet as she let her orgasm loose, little splashes being heard as he watched her, cheek resting against his shoulder.

“I’m thinking about you pounding into me, baby. Spanking me and telling me how good I am and telling me how amazing I feel. Clenching around your cock, squeezing you and edging you closer, and squirting for you as you fuck me deep. All over your stomach. All over you. Feels good when I make myself squirt, you know? Want to show you so badly.”

He whimpered and it was such a cartoon whimper that rolled from his tongue that, usually wouldn’t have embarrassed him because it wasn’t forced and came from an act that enticed it from deep within him, made his cheeks heat up.

He had this habit, that he wasn’t sure how it started, of banging his hands down on the mattress when he pushed up after being stretched out down the spread of the bed. Whether it was after a full nights sleep and it was time to get up or after a nap that he’d taken with YN after a busy morning or after they’d spent a few hours on the bed being amorous with their sexual activities. Because it annoyed her and he loved to annoy her and it had simply become a habit he would do when he was on his own. Using his trembling arms to push himself up from the bed and onto his knees. The pillow that he hadn’t slept on, which still held the strong aroma of hotel washing detergent and was still crisp white and had a fresh pillowcase and was untouched and wrinkle-free, was grasped tightly in his hand. His knuckles turning white after he lunged forward and grabbed it, leaving an empty space at the headboard. His erect and tingling and leaking cock swinging as he moved, his laptop pushed to the side in a haste to find a new position, his bare heels pushed into the pillowy flesh of his bum cheeks. Green eyes staying focused on the screen as he watched her grind against the arched base of the sex-toy between her thighs. Her back arching, her nipples pebbling as a hand disappeared behind her frame, her other clinging to front to keep her as stable as she could possibly make herself.

She’d spoken about pillow humping before... and it definitely wasn’t something that would slip his mind with ease. Whether it was during their late night chats when the time ticked passed midnight and the both of them were struggling to sleep, whether it was when they were discussing ways they managed to get themselves off when they were alone, or whether it was overhead when she was talking to a female friend during a stay-at-home brunch in the kitchen. It wasn’t a foreign topic of conversation and he was all for trying new things - he’d gone as far as having his girlfriend give him a rimjob, for goodness sake, so there were no boundaries he was terrified of crossing.

He folded it over as quick as he could - well, actually, it was more wrapped around his cock than it was folded before his quivering frame - and, despite being untouched, it was warm and, if he could let his hazy imagination wander a little further than her lips wrapped around him, he could really imagine her warm cunt clenching around him. All slick and warm and deep, homing him perfectly and stretching to accommodate the thick girth he packed between his thighs, and being enough to milk his balls dry. He didn’t need a hand fondling his balls or a finger pushed into his behind. Needing the sounds and the touch and the smell to drive him over the edge. He grabbed either side of the pillow, keeping it in a tight fold, as he gave his all into thrusting between the gap, feeling his bum clench with each forward thrust, his body almost toppling to the mattress with each retracted thrust, and his eyes were watering. His bottom lip situated between his teeth, chewing hard on the flesh and nearing the point of drawing blood, making it red raw and dribbling down his chin.

Because, oh god, did it feel good.

It was better than his hand; far much better. It had the creases, it had the depth that her warm cunt had to offer every single time, it had the metaphorical entrance that he found pleasure sinking into and it had the warmth that he could imagine wasn’t just a folded pillow. Where he could imagine it was really her. It was an action that he didn’t mind drooling over and that he didn’t mind making a mess of, an action that he definitely wouldn’t rule out in the future, and an action that he would have to tell her all about, just to tell her she was right. That it felt brilliant. That it sent him spiralling towards a place where he felt he was flying. Not necessarily cloud nine but... something even better than that.

His knees were starting to ache from holding up his weight, his stomach was clenching and coiling with white-hot pleasure as he kept pushing his hips losing all rhythm but driving deeper into the groove that the pillow offered him, his head swimming, his knuckles turning white and his fingers feeling like they were stiff when he tried to give them a wiggle, and he was beginning to feel like jelly because he was on the brink of a third orgasm - the most orgasms he’d ever given himself in one night - all whilst his girlfriend was edging towards her second.

In hindsight, he felt guilty for what he was doing. This wasn’t his property, it wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his bed to get messy and the pillow wasn’t his - it all belonged to a hotel, a room, that many people would use after he signed himself out and handed over his key. It was a pillow that people would use, that they would rest their heads upon, without knowing the high levels of deep lust it had helped him feel. And, despite not wanting it to end, he threw it to the floor. The least he could do was salvage what was left of the inanimate piece of furniture.

His stomach ached as he jerked himself through his third orgasm, the third of god knows how many, just as his girlfriend announced she was cumming hard. His hand feeling clammy around his length as he tugged up and down, up and down, up and down, adding in a spark of pleasure as he squeezed his girth and stroked the sensitive, mushroom-shaped head with the pad of his thumb. Her squeals sending him over the edge as he spurted thick, white strings of release up his chest, painting his sticky and shimmering, with sweat, skin. Smearing his release over each and every section of exposed skin he could.

He fell back against the bed, his head missing his pillow by mere centimetres as he choked and swallowed saliva down his dry throat, releasing his cock and spreading out, like a starfish against a rock, upon the mattress. Feet hanging off the end of the bed as his fingers twitched. YN’s cries of relief echoing around the room as they filtered from the speakers at either side of his laptop and he wasn’t so sure he could last another go. Three orgasms was good enough for him.

“... this is driving my clit crazy, Harry. And, as much as I love it when you use your fingers and rub them against me, when you flick me with your tongue or suck on me, this feels so much better,” she hums, his eyes straining as he peered over his shoulder to watch her, “it’s up there on things that drive me crazy. Love your fingers though. Make me feel so good in so many ways. They’re so soft and gentle, delicate and feathery, touching me so lightly and it’s like they know exactly what to do. They know where to go. They know just how to make me feel nice.”

This go around, as he watched her unravel on the sybian, he skipped out on a potential fourth. He could have gone for it but a staggered orgasm, that he would class at number four, could come in the morning when he could keep his eyes open. When he wasn’t feeling sore. When his cock had had a break and had regained all feeling from tip to base. He had new material to watch, to think about and to help his imagination delve further into the darker depths of his mind now that he had stumbled upon what she had so sweetly given to him... that he was thankful she had given to him... that he would, as corny as it sounded, keep safe and look after and would only use it when he was in dire need of a little help. When amateur porn just wasn’t satisfying enough.

“... I think s’all I can take. 3 orgasms is good enough for you, right? I feel great. I’m going to go and take a warm bath, relax a little and wait for you to come home so you don’t smell sex on me,” she giggles, dismounting the sex-toy and walking over towards the camera on shaking legs. He could see her glistening thighs struggling to close from how long she’d been in her position, the upper muscles trembling under her skin, “drunk you always seems to know when I’ve been naughty with myself and I can’t be giving myself away. If you’re curious as to where I’m putting this, it’s back in the box and in the wardrobe under your shirts. Means I can grab one when I chose to have some fun,” she grins into the lens as she picks the camera up with her hands, holding it at arm’s length as she twirls on her bare feet and collapses - well, more like lets her legs give out from underneath her weight - upon their bed. Head nudging between the two plump pillows as she hid her face into his. A tired smile on her face. “That’s all I can do. My legs ache and I’ve still got to put it all away and get myself freshened up. I’ll see you really soon, mister. Really soon. Enjoy the rest of the tour. It’s your last one with the boys, for a long time, so make the most of it. I’ll see you at home in a short few weeks. 6 nights at London’s O2? That’s going to be so cool! I love you huge amounts.”

Sure, he missed home... but he was missing it a little less now.

[raccoonpatriotism]

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Random, Useless Headcanons | Accepting

i like how i keep labeling this meme as “accepting” when i have…. 260 of these right here.

1: Has he driven a car before? Yes. Should he be allowed to keep driving? No.

2: You know that “I’m washing me and my clothes!” vine? That’s Jane. It’s efficient.

3: If you gave him Cat Food he’d say it’s the best thing he’d ever tasted.

4: Before going to Poland to serve his time, he hired a sex worker. Her touch would be the last non-violent physical contact he would feel for the next 9 or so years.

5: 

6: He donates a healthy sum of his paychecks to wild animal and veteran charities. 

7: Jane’s ‘friendship’ with Merasmus is the longest relationship he’s ever held.

8: Jane doesn’t believe in the number 8.

9: He doesn’t have any titty mags, but he does have tasteful pin-up for the inside of his locker.

10: He’s an excellent swimmer - but will sometimes forget to hold his breath. 

11: Getting Jane to imprint on you like a baby bird is really easy. Be strong, be patriotic, be funny, be determined. 

12: He trusts everything he’s told from someone he views as a friend.

13: He’s been on BLU before - it was brief.., a WAR! got started and ended. A few years went by and he was balanced to RED

14: Continuation of 13, it was… very easy to get him to believe he was always on RED team.

15: He loves fighting robots - but nothing compares to the feeling of a neck snapping in his hands.

16: He taught himself how to use every weapon he came across in Poland - it took a few years before he ran into a rocket launcher…. His life was changed from that moment onward.

17: His knowledge of the US military comes from tv and stories from veteran home he was forced to work at through his older years at the orphanage. (Outdated or complete bullshit.)

18: The liveliness of America is just one of the innumerable reasons he loves the country. Even things he hates (like.. war protesters/hippies) have this determination in them that makes him proud.

19: He’ll pick ear wax out of his ear, sniff it, grimace, and happily hold the finger out to somebody near him.

20: He only wants the best for you.

21: Getting him to realize he’s actually ended civilian’s lives is a conversation that would take over an hour. His brain has the wildest, irrationally rational excuses ever. (”Officer Miss Pauling, what I am about to say will SHOCK you; I was framed” will never make me not lose my mind. ilove him)

22: His moral compass is, admittedly, terrible, but he genuinely wants the best for people in the world.

23: Helping people, serving his country, that’s his goal. That all he wants out of life. He’s a cog in the machine of war and he loves it.

24: Consequences don’t exist in Jane’s world.

25: He’s so fucking bisexual. This headcanon is not useless at all.

26: Jane snores like a chainsaw - and will then be absolutely silent for spaces of minutes.

27: He never covers his face when he sneezes.

28: He’s very touchy feely - A way to make up for what he so clearly craves.

29: But god this man wants to be touched.

30: As much as Jane holds back on admitting to weakness, he’s also just a genuinely honest guy so simple prodding usually gets him to spill.

31: Jane has never purposefully manipulated someone in his life.

32: He’s only ever seen one movie. Well, more like registered he always zones out at some point. Sometimes starting the movie in a day dream and zoning back in to catch the ending. The movie he’s fully seen was watched through 3 separate sessions.

33: War films, what he does catch, always make him cry.

34: With everyone he meets; Jane immediately thinks of two things. How to kill them. And what to say when holding their guts into their dying corpse and crying to the sky.

35: He has no idea he’s beautiful.

36: Jane doesn’t have a self-effacing bone in his body.

37: He chews with his mouth open, and speaks with his mouth full. He’ll also snap at someone else to stop talking with their mouth full, it’s disrespectful.

38: Jane had a dream where he beat Communism and thought it was true for a whole year.

39: He’s not dumb on purpose. He has nothing to gain by making people think he’s an idiot, as far as he’s concerned. He acts like himself 24/7

40: Jane invented that song Fifty Nifty United States song that’s song in elementary schools.

41: You know those kiddie leashes? You could put one of those on Jane and he wouldn’t be, like, “Okay.” Try and run off and be like “What contraption is holding me here?!?!?!”

42: The answer to life, the universe, and everything is American Apple Pie

43: i just realized im gonna get to answer a headcanon 69 and got excited. UHH jane likes the color red.

44: Jane likes the color blue.

45: Jane likes the color white.

46: Jane loves all skin colors, anybody can be American.

47: Has he retained any American history? Haha. Ha. No.

48: Jane was taken out of elementary school for bad behavior, lack of attention, and general ruckus.

49: His orphanage never tried to send him back to any schooling. 

50: Jane was born July 4th, he doesn’t know that, despite claiming it.

51: He’s not an amnesiac - he’s never had a strong sense for long-term memories. 

52: God, he loves bread.

53: And also he loves taking everything Engineer says literally. He’s such a wise American.

54: Jane would absolute trollface and say “Problem?”

55: He would never say a slur.

56: Jane does not use fuck as a curse ever. He’ll say it, but like, to mean, y’know.

57: He’s a follower, don’t tell him that. He’ll get offended. 

58: Jane is convinced the President is the most powerful being in the world, and is also granted special powers.

59: Jane is progressive, baybee. He thinks dogs should vote!!

60: UNLESS IT HAS TO DO WITH WAR. Then he’s, like, a total bootlicker.

61: He’ll beat up racists in bars.

62: Jane really came alive during Grey Mann’s first robot attacks - for the second time he felt like he was protecting America and not some Very Important American Gravel. 

63: If Jane ever got sentenced to prison, he’d just serve his time.

64: He has Lawyer Powers given to him by magic, and he is not afraid to use them.

65: Besides Scout, he has represented himself, Lt. Bites, and the state of Tennessee in court.

66: He was a bad roommate, he genuinely thought Merasmus was an even worse roommate. 

67: Extreme Cold is a surefire way to trigger his PTSD. He doesn’t act all that different verbally, but he becomes entire still. Not even moving to shiver. It’s like he automatically transfers to late stage hypothermia.

68: Jane may have never played baseball, but he’s briefly been on a bowling team.

69: ayyyyy. Jane always returns the favor, if ya know what i mean.

70: I can’t tell you how much he can lift because I know nothing about fitness, but it’s a lot. And it’s impressive. 

71: Jane practices unsafe workout routines! It’s a miracle lifting without a spotter hasn’t killed him yet.

72: He makes up for his genuine stupidity with Pure Luck.

73: He’ll kill, he’ll maim, but he won’t assault. 

74: Jane’s favorite chocolate is Hershey’s.

75: He’s convinced Milton Hershey, founder of Hershey’s Chocolate, was a President despite him being alive in Jane’s lifetime.

76: Jane isn’t afraid of gay thoughts, never payed attention to period typical homophobia going on around him therefor never got a chance to develop it.

77: Jane would totally be the type of guy to see one of those Fireman Calendars and zone out staring at some dudes pecs and someone asks him if he’s okay and he’s like “I’m ogay.”

78: It’s a miracle, the first time Jane rocket jumped, his legs weren’t blown off. He was injured from the fall, surprised he’d gotten air at all. It was an accident and, while he’d never go to recreate it during his time in Poland, when he’d gotten hooked up to respawn and he saw all the high perches, the trick reoccured to him.

79: He loved Tavish so much

80: He was born in Tennessee, although he grew up in Wisconsin.

81: He’ll make odd little sounds - aborted sentences, thoughts lost to the depths of his brain. You can point them out and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

82: He could have a possum mixed in with his raccoons and think it’s a raccoon.

83: He takes his Ranger Job very seriously. Just as serious as he does all his jobs. (So, you know. Not… very.) He is very enthusiastic at least!

84: He’s not empathetic at all, however energies at Large in a room really affect him. Chances are, if everyone’s in good favor, he’ll be really happy and relaxed - even if previously grumpy.

85: Jane can be really grumpy, that’s when his drill sergeant personality shines through - more often than not, he’s just a good natured loud patriot rolling with the punches of life.

86: He believes in the Judeo-Christian God, but also… believes the president is stronger than God? Sometimes? Depends on the situation. What is blasphemy haha?!?

87: Jane always wanted a puppy - meeting Bites, future Lieutenant, was like a dream come true to him.

88: Plus, he’d always liked raccoons - often responsible for tipping over dumpsters at his orphanage to help the little critters.

89: Jane can and will eat out of the garbage if not stopped.

90: He’s very passionate and strict about what he knows are fact (the issue is, facts can change pretty easily in jane’s head.

91: Good thing he has a helmet because Jane’s puppy-dog eyes are the sort that are clearly un-practiced and unintentional and thus made all the more soul-wrenching. 

92: He’s always surprised by doorbells.

93: Jane would never smoke weed of his own volition, but under the influence, everything would make So Much Sense to him.

94: I’m talking the wildest stoner sayings, that always are so structurally sound it’s scary.

95: This man loves cashews.

96: “Mm crunchy things.. good.” - Shared thought by Jane and Lt. Bites.

97: Lt. Bites likes to curl up on Jane’s stomach when he’s sleeping. Jane often wakes up with his face covered in scratches and fur in his mouth. Much like the Soldier, the Lieutenant isn’t quite a sound sleeper.

98: Fuck, like, he loves cashews so much? The texture is amazing.

99: Jane has no illegitimate or legitimate children.

100: Jane loves his team almost as much as he loves America.

101: IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR scroll back up and read everything, LOSER otherwise… wow………you love soldier. me too…… 

CONTINUED HERE

[every1studio]

SPECIAL: “1,000 cranes for you” [stray kids]

genre: reverse harem + angst + fluff  

ficstyle: bulletpoints + storyline + LONG

prompt: you lost your memory; you woke up to 9 guys who had memories with you.. during the time that you were in a coma, each boy made 1,000 cranes, hoping to grant them the wish of remembering them.. so .. who will you remember first?

note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS / I HOPE YOU CONTINUE TO SHOW LOVE TO THIS LITTLE HOBBY OF MINE~

How long have you been asleep? That was your first question when you woke up lying in a white, breezy hospital bed. The wind was blowing from the window and the sun was peeking through the see-through curtains; lined up on the window, were flowers of many colors, shapes and sizes. There were also a bottle of containers that held in.. what was it.. paper cranes? It brought a smile to your face.. How did I get here? You’d think to yourself..

“Oh... you’re awake?”

JEONGIN [I.N.]

the boy starts to tear up

he’s standing there with a basket of paper cranes

the amount of shock caused him to drop the basket

“Y/N!!!”

the boy runs towards you and shoves your face into his chest

“excuse me...”

he looks down at you

“who are you?”

the boy falls down onto his knees

“it’s me.. Jeongin... your junior in Literature club...”

all the old memories starting rushing back to him 

FLASHBACK

he noticed you as you were handing out flyers for Literature Club

“are you interested in become a member?”

how could he say no?

your smile was blinding but he wanted to see more of it

he bashfully took the flyer from you; as he grazed your hand, his heart started to run away from the fear of any possible form of rejection

“hope to see you there~” you smiled and he was at ease

...

one time, Jeongin came to the literature club room early 

he caught you sleeping by the open window; sleeping

he takes off his school blazer and puts it over your shoulders 

(maybe it wouldn’t be weird if I sat next to them..) 

once he sits next to you, your head shifts over to his shoulder

he holds his breathe; hoping that this isn’t a dream and that he can keep this moment imprinted in his head forever

Jeongin turns to push your hair out of your face

“I like you y/n..” he whispers, “I always will...”

BACK FROM FLASHBACK

he lets go of his grip and shuffle his feet towards his basket

there were so many paper cranes on the ground

you got up from your bed and took off all the annoying tubes

you also shuffled over to pick them up with them

“why are there so many paper cranes..” you asked as you looked up from picking some off of the ground

he was crying

“why are you crying??”

you lifted your hand to wipe off the tears

“y/n?”

HYUNJIN

you and Jeongin both look up at the door

the tall boy starts to smile

tears lined up on his water line

immediately picks up his phone and starts to yell

“HYUNG!! Y/N’S AWAKE!!”

after a few shouting words, he shoves his phone in his pocket

he kneels down and cups your face

“do you remember me? it’s Hyunjin!!”

he squishes your face; making you feel like a little Shiba Inu 

“I-agk..don-don’t reme-member uuu~” you tried to speak through the aggressively soft face squishing

Hyunjin stops

he looks over and Jeongin 

Jeongin shakes his head at him

Hyunjin looks back at you and his smile softens

he got lost in your big and clueless eyes; remembering how he met you for the first time

FLASHBACK

he was a part-timer at a diner and a puppy cafe across the streets

the door opens; indicating that a customer was walking in

“welcome to-”

he was speechless at you 

he believes that you were the most beautiful being he’s ever seen in his life

“um.. I’m here under the reservation of Jun?” you spoke softly

“oh yeah... right this way..”

he realized that you were there on a date

but hours and hours later, you were still sitting in that lone booth with the same glass of water from a few hours ago..

“um.. we’re closing now...”

you sighed in relief

“I’m glad that I don’t have to anymore blind dates after this, I’ll tell my parents it didn’t work out.. sorry for holding up space..”

he shakes his head

“it’s alright.. if.. if you’re a little hungry, would you like to go to the puppy cafe across the street? I work there too...”

you smiled as you took his hand

“sounds like a better plan than one I had for today..”

BACK FROM FLASHBACK

Hyunjin comes up to you; mad at your date and sad that someone as beautiful as you 

he helps you and Jeongin place the paper cranes back into the basket 

then he helps you up and leads you to the array of flowers and paper cranes by the window

he points you to the glass container with a pretty yellow ribbon wrapped around it

“I made those for you..” Hyunjin said, still holding your hand

you turned to look at Jeongin as he placed his basket next to it

“what are they used for?” you asked the both of them

but another voice answered for them

WOOJIN 

“there’s a legend that promises the wish of the person who makes a 1000 paper cranes...all of us want to make a wish that you’ll get well and remember us...”

you turned to see who was talking

there was a soft-haired boy who looked like a teddy bear

he was holding a guitar case; there was a little keychain that looked familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint from where

“hey y/n..” he stuck out his hand, “I’m Woojin.. we’re.. from the same class..”

Jeongin settles by the window

Hyunjin leads you back to the bed for you to sit down

Woojin takes out his guitar 

“I remember how much you liked listening to me play the guitar.. so I thought I’d come and play some to you today... I’m glad that.. you’re awake now..”

“Hyung! why are you being so humble? y/n, did you know he comes in everyday.. EVERYDAY.. just to play the guitar to you? even if you were still sound asleep, he’d play the guitar for you...” Hyunjin exclaimed

you turned to look at Woojin

he was turning pink as he focused on tuning his already tuned guitar

“Woojin..” 

he looks up when you called him name

“what was my favorite song?”

Woojin smiles as he takes the pick out of his pocket

“LOST STARS; by Adam Levine..”

FLASHBACK

Woojin was trying to raise money to get a new guitar

so he was buskering in the streets of Seoul

he starts off with “LOST STARS” 

gathering a crowd of people, you were also pulled in by his lovely voice

it was so mesmerizing

when it was over, you walked over to place in $20

which was a lot for one person to give

surprised he looked up to see an angel

“thank you for performing my favorite song so beautifully; you made me love it so much more..”

he beams and he thanks you

little did you both know, both of you went to the same school

so when you both saw each other again in the music room

he felt like it was fate that he got to see you again

BACK FROM FLASHBACK 

it meant so much more to him now that you were awake

(even if she doesn’t remember me.. at least have her remember this song) 

once he finishes, he looks up to see your face

but you were already looking at someone else

MINHO [LEEKNOW]

Minho was at the door

waiting for Woojin to finish his performance

but he caught your attention by accident

(do I know this guy too?) 

you thought as you were slowly drowned out by Woojin’s voice

“wow... Woojin hyung, you’re so good at singing...” he claps as he entered the room

he had a bouquet of flowers for you; forget-me-nots wrapped up in a baby blue ribbon

Woojin sets his guitar down

“you should really refrain from bringing anymore flowers, hyung... it’s gonna end up looking like a flower shop,” Jeongin muttered

you smiled as Minho placed it in your arms

“I don’t mind...”

Minho sits next to you

“I’m Minho...you used to visit my family’s flower shop a lot..”

you looked at him and back at the flowers

“I guess I really liked flowers...” 

Minho chuckles

“yeah.. you came by everyday...”

you were interested about your life before your accident

“what did I usually get?”

Minho got flustered by how close you were but he didn’t move away

he turns his surprised red faced into a soft smile

“you got yellow roses a lot...do you know the meaning of them?”

you shook your head

Minho remembers how you came into his shop for the first time

“um.. I have this friend and I really think that our friendship is going to last and I want to thank them.... what kind of flowers should I get?” 

“yellow roses... to cherish a friendship so happy and strong..” 

he was so blessed to have you come into his shop; on more occasions than most 

one time.. you got yellow roses again.. but this time, you gave it to Minho

“thank you for educating me on flowers and making my life a happy garden..”

Minho turns to look at you, sitting on the hospital bed 

“they symbolize a friendship so happy and strong..”

“sounds like our relationship.. was a happy one..” you mumbled as you took a deep breath of the flowers in front of you

CHAN

you heard crashing outside the hallways

followed by the sound of the door swinging open

“Y/N!!!”

a boy who resembled a koala came dashing forward

he ended up tripping on his foot and fell face forward into Minho’s bouquet which was on your lap

“CHAN ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

Minho shoves off him

Chan had flower petals all over his face and hair

speaking of hair, his hair was incredibly fluffy and curly 

you chuckled at him

“hello there...” you spoke in a calm voice

“y/n.. you’re way too calm for all of this right now...” Jeongin said as he folded away at his paper cranes

Chan just looked up at you wide-eyed

“staring at them isn’t going to make them remember you..” Woojin said as he strummed soft chords as background music

the guy was still at your knees; looking up at you

you reached over to pick off the petals off of his face

in that moment, he recalls the first time he met you

“I KNOW YOU DON’T REMEMBER BUT I’M GOING TO TELL YOU HOW WE MET!!!”

Chan tells you about how he was running his bike until he runs into a pole because he was trying to avoid running into you right in front of the school gate

it was his first day of school, coming in from Australia, he wasn’t planning to be a klutz but it turned out that way  

instead of walking away like any bystander, you walked over and took care of his scrapes and bruises 

he was so ecstatic to find out that you were in the same class as him

you were his first friend

thanks to you; he got all his school work done on time since you guys were always work partners

the day before you got into your accident, Chan wanted to meet up with you

to tell you how much he’s liked you.. but that never happened because he never had the courage to bring it up to you

even now.. Chan was willing to be apart of your life again even though he wasn’t going to tell you how he ever felt about you 

“CHAN YOU DON’T NEED TO TELL THE STORY BY YELLING!!” Hyunjin stood up to Chan

“I’M SORRY!!”

you just laughed at the whole situation

(I didn’t know I had such energetic friends...) 

FELIX 

although he was so happy to see you wake up

a rush of guilt stopped him from entering the room

but you caught a glimpse of him as he walked away

you got up and made your way out the door

“I’ll be right back okay?”

the other guys couldn’t say anything before you left 

so they all sulked in grief in the room waiting for you

since all of them felt guilty of what happened to you

(if only... I was there in time..) they all individually thought

you saw the guy go up to the rooftop so you followed the best you could

it’s probably been a while since you used your muscles so it took you a while until you got up to rooftop

huffing and puffing; you had enough energy to open the door

the guy’s attention shifted towards the sound of the metal door opening

“y/n?”

he dashes over to take your hand after seeing your knees shake from lack of support 

“what.. what are you doing up here...”

he looks around for nurses or any of the other guys 

“I thought... maybe.. you knew me?” you softly exclaimed

(those eyes.. those eyes are the reason why I can’t ever leave you..) 

he remembers how he was sitting on his roof when you heading back home from cram school 

he had his telescope out and he was charting constellations 

“I know this is weird but could I join you?”

the guy looks down from his scope to see you, who was in the same uniform as him

he knew you

you were pretty well-known for being nice to everyone

the boy nods as he points to the ladder by the side of his house

you both sit in silence to take in the beauty of the stars in the sky

“I’m y/n..” you stuck out your hand

“I’m Felix..” he took your hand 

and that was how you guys had a tradition of looking at the stars every clear night 

the guy quietly leads you towards the bench 

“I’m Felix.. I...I do.. know you... well.. I did...” he mumbles after you settle onto to bench

“so why didn’t you walk into the room earlier?” you bent over to see his face

he looks at you and his heart starts to hurt

“because I blame myself for what happened to you...”

it’s been bouncing back and forth in your head; what really happened to you?

“if.. if it’s not too much... what did happen to me?”

Felix was still holding your hands at this point

he stood up, indicating you to do the same

“it’s not in my place to say...”

“Y/N?” 

CHANGBIN

there was another guy who seemed to know you 

at that moment, the strain of holding your weight up made your knees collapses

the guy was quick enough to hold you up bridal-styled

“you just woke up! you aren’t as fit as you’d be after sleeping for a year and a half!”

“I’ve..I’ve been asleep for that long?”

Felix shot him a stern look and the boy went quiet

you gripped that sleeve of the boy who was carrying you

“I rather know than to not know... as of right now.. I don’t know anything..and it’s driving me crazy..”

you hid your head in the crook of his neck

for some reason.. his scent smelled familiar

FLASHBACK [Changbin]

you were running in PE when you rolled your ankle

Changbin was the one who saw the incident happen so he carried you on his back to the infirmary room

“idiot.. you need to watch out where you’re stepping..” he mutters

he feels you tighten your grip on him

“what’s that? you want to be placed in a choke hold?”

he starts to tap on your arm to release your arm from his neck

“AYE I’M SORRY LET GO!”

you chuckled as you let go, then placed your head on one side of his shoulder

“thanks...” you took a breathe of his musky and familiar cologne 

“you’re welcome...idiot,” he smiles

BACK FROM FLASHBACK

“let’s bring you back to the room...I’m Changbin by the way..”

“Changbin..”

the way his name rolled off your tongue felt natural

SEUNGMIN

there was another unfamiliar boy who was in your room 

they were all making paper cranes

“who’s that?” you whispered to Changbin and Felix

the boy gets up and dusts his pants off

“Seungmin.. you were always at my baseball games..”

judging from his uniform, he probably just got off of practice

“I watched baseball?” you asked

he smiles as he nods

but his smile seemed so sad

you looked out the window; the sun was setting

“when did you get here..?”

he rubs the back of his neck as Changbin sets you on the bed

“like 5 minutes ago?”

you looked around the room

“are we all friends?” 

they all nodded; as they continued to fold paper cranes

“can I help you guys?”

Seungmin placed his hand on yours; stopping you from reaching a crisp, origami paper

“you know about the legend of the paper cranes? it’ll only grant the wish of the one person who makes them.. they have to do it on their own...”

you nodded 

he raised his hand and placed it on your head

this triggered another nostalgic feeling in you 

Seungmin remembers... he used to place his hand on your head all the time

especially when his team didn’t win because of a faulty or a bad ref

“you guess played so well... you guys deserve to win..” you’d sniffle

he’d place his hand on your head

“we’ll just practice harder.. will make sure you see us win...”

Seungmin comes back from a trip down memory lane as Felix speaks up

“everyone’s here now..” Felix says 

JISUNG [HAN]

there was yet another boy, with a pair of headphones and a scrapbook

he spoke up after gazing at you for a while

“do they...”

the boys shook their heads

he forces his lips into a thin line 

“I..I’m Jisung... we are childhood friends..”

he couldn’t look up at you

he felt like if he did, he would cry in front of you

and that was the last thing he wanted

he shuffles over to you

and hands you the headphones and scrapbook

“I..thought that it would be best for you to look over some old memories...I got some pictures from your mom and we collected pictures of all of us over time..”

you picked up the headphones

“what’s this for?”

Jisung finally took the initiative to look at you

he winches at your soft smile; how he missed your smile..

“I wrote a song for you.. it has all of our voices in it.. it’s called “1,000 Paper Cranes”

you placed the headphones over your ears and opened to the first page of the book 

as you were taking your time down memory lane, with the lyrics speaking of times you don’t recall.. you felt like you knew yourself a little bit more

Jisung just sat next to you as you flipped through page after page

he smiles at you

he remembers how you guys always met up at his treehouse; a secret base

how his 5 year old self announced his love for you and promised you that he was going to marry you

how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you by the time you both entered high school 

and how he blamed himself for letting what happened to you.. happen to you

the boys were gathering the last of the cranes together so that there were a total of 9,000 cranes .. a total of 9 wishes 

when you finished flipping through the book, the last words of the song was said through Jisung’s voice

“our 1,000 paper cranes will not be in vain.. in time.. you’ll remember again..”

you looked up and all the boys were lined up

Chan spoke up, “we.. we’re going to tell you what happened to you...”

it was your birthday and the last day of school

you had nothing planned for the rest of the day but to start on summer break homework

Changbin came by your class and asked for your hand

“I can’t wait.. so here you go..” he slips a charm bracelet on your wrist

“you better not lose it..” he mumbles sheepishly as he shoves his hands in his pockets

you were walking when Felix and Hyunjin came at you from both sides of your arms and picked you up

“BIRTHDAY TOSS!!!”

you were scared for your life; but it was a funny moment

your indoor shoe came off and hit Hyunjin’s face

causing all your weight to fall onto Felix and you guys were all stacked up; laughing

until you guys had to run away from the student body president

you hid in the music room where Woojin was practicing something

your sudden appearance almost made him drop his guitar

“y/n?”

you shushed him as you waited for the president’s footsteps disappear

when you turned your head around; he dangled a keychain in front of your face

“happy birthday..”

you looked over at his guitar case to see a matching one..

“i-it was a set okay?” he stuttered and you just giggled and thanked him

Jeongin was in the clubroom early to clean up before you came into the room, “happy birthday y/n..”

he hands you a literature book, “The God of Small Things”

without anything else to say, he dashes off muttering something like “see you later..”

as you walked out of the school from finishing club, you looked at Seungmin working hard on his pitches

“SEUNGMIN!” you waved at him and he dashes over towards his bag then towards you

he wraps his varsity baseball jacket over you and places his hand over your head

“happy birthday y/n.. don’t get sick..it’s gonna get cold later..”

you were walking home from school..

you get a text from Jisung

-hey~ meet me at waterfront’s fountain in an hour~

you smiled at his text as you dashed home to get ready.

you put on Seungmin’s baseball jacket, your comfiest shirt and a pair of denim shorts, topped it off with a white cap and white shoes.

Chan left his present for you leaned up on your house gate; a new bike (since your old one got wrecked).

you left the “happy birthday” bow on it and made your way towards the waterfront

there were a string of lights leading up to the waterfront

that’s when you saw all of the boys lined up with a banner; “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N~”

they had a cake ready for you too

you were crossing the street until the sound of a blaring truck closed in on you

you turned to see the light of the truck pierce into your soul

you didn’t feel the collision

everything happened in slow motion

the boys ran to you; dropping the banner, the presents and the cake

it was a day to celebrate.. but it was day you were almost taken away from them...

After hearing the whole story, you were in so much shock.. you couldn’t comprehend anything.. “Do you think it was too soon to tell them?” Jeongin whispered to Woojin.. You shook your head.. “I think.. I think I need time to myself.. I feel like I remember.. but then I don’t.” They all nodded at each other and packed their things to leave. Everyone left except for Changbin.. he reaches into his pocket and takes out that charm bracelet.. “we each made 1,000 paper cranes for you...don’t give up yet..” You nodded as he left..

That night you had a dream, it seemed more like a lost memory that came back to you. There was a missing piece that interlocked every memory that the boys had with you. There was someone that you gave the yellow roses to. Someone who helped you reach a book from the high shelves of the library. Someone carried you home after falling asleep in the literature club room. Someone who was there for you most of the time even when you’d least expect it..

You woke up with tears in your eyes... The sun was peaking through and the wind’s breeze got caught in your baby hairs. That “someone” was laying their head on your lap; probably stayed to take care of you. Memories of them rushes in your head, you brushed their hair out of their face, “???”

END + [masterlist + guidelines]

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT. I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD GO THIS FAR WITH MY HOBBY BUT I’M GLAD I DID. I don’t have a lot mutuals or active anons but I appreciate those that I do have. I might post a dance video soon this week as another THANK YOU.