#sorry to vomit my silly ideas all over Tumblr

[jeonqkooks]

i’m really not joking when i say i think about these asks all the time

[elvendara]

Day 26/April Challenge

Second Yooran AU is my University AU. This one is long and kinda all over the place, and I’m probably going to change the end.

He meant well, he always did, and honestly, if it hadn't been for Saeyoung, Saeran would probably be dead by now. He'd made good on his promise. He got them away from their mother. Whatever his job was, it allowed him to create new identities for them both. Saeran was adamant that he wanted to keep his real first name, but Saeyoung changed his to Luciel. Most of the time though, he just went by Seven. It suited him.

Luciel and Saeran Choi they had become. He'd also added a few years to his own age so that there would be no questions about how he was Saeran's legal guardian, at least, on paper, because one look at them and it was obvious that they were twins. Thankfully, Seven was a master at working through phone and internet. He'd enrolled Saeran into public school and tried to give him as normal a life as he could.

Saeran fought him at first. He wanted to stay close to his brother, he was too afraid of the world outside, fearing that it would only lead to more pain. Slowly, however, he found that he was getting healthier, and that other people would not necessarily hurt him. There were some instances where he had been bullied because of his shyness and his introverted tendencies. Soon enough though, he learned that he had a real talent for sports. He enjoyed the physical strain, the competition, the ball in his hand. Baseball became his main focus and because he was skilled and worked hard to get better, the coaches loved him, and so did his team mates. In fact, he was so good, he earned a scholarship to a university. Seven encouraged him to continue his education and play ball. Those who once bullied him began to praise him. Initially, he had enjoyed the new treatment. Eventually, he understood that it was not him they now liked, but his new popularity.

When he began university, Seven had talked him into living with his team on campus so that he could make some real friends. It was still difficult for Saeran in that department. He preferred to spend most of his time by himself or with his brother. He stayed in the dorm to make Seven happy, but, he simply went through the motions. He wasn’t unhappy, he just did not care for the lifestyle most of his team mates preferred. He would drink, but not to excess, he'd tried pot, it was something he enjoyed doing alone, he was hit on a lot by university girls, which, brought him to the one aspect that was a sticking point for him. He was gay. Had always been gay, had never had any doubts gay. His team mates would try to get him laid, but he always fended them off. Most of the time, the girls were so drunk, they didn't remember if he'd been receptive or not.

He'd never tried to have a relationship, never even really had a crush on anyone. He was happy with his baseball, his art, and his brother. It did not bother him in the least that he had no one else close to him. It made things easier for him as well. It was not a secret that most of his team mates disdained anyone whose sexual orientation did not fit their idea of masculinity. They threw the word 'gay' around like a whip, hitting anyone and everyone with it.

His only sexual experience had been with one of his team mates in high school who he had invited home just to shut his brother up. They had spent time in his room, playing video games and at some point, he had placed his hand on Saeran's crotch as if it was no big deal. He'd asked Saeran if he wanted a blow job and Saeran was too stunned to answer. The boy took that as assent and began to do just that. He'd enjoyed it, but it felt awkward. He tried it himself on the other boy. The next day, the boy ignored him and never really spoke to him again. Saeran was embarrassed and ashamed, he hadn't even told Seven, even though he told him everything. Since then, he had maintained his unspoken rule of no touching. Or at least, minimal touching.

Currently, he stood in a large hallway at a local MegaCon that his teammates had pressured him into going to. It wasn't that they enjoyed video games, or anime, it was in order to make fun of all the cosplayers and nerds. He'd already witnessed a lot of bullying and name calling. He was embarrassed to be in their group, but he didn't know what to do. He had nothing against anyone who attended the Con. In fact, he played with Seven sometimes. It was a great stress relief for him. He wasn't into it as much as his brother, he could easily see Seven dressing up and attending something like this, if he ever actually left the house.

He stepped away from the group and idly walked around, distancing himself from the pack. There was a loud commotion that drew his attention from one of the many rooms. The doors were open wide and the sign in front read "LOLOL Tournament 3 p.m - finish" Saeran grinned. He was very familiar with LOLOL. It was one of Seven's favorite roleplaying games to play. He was rather proud of his #1 ranking on the Shooting Star server. Whenever anyone came close to unseating him from his throne, he would go on the warpath and sometimes take Saeran along with him. He was very serious about his title.

He walked inside. There was a large crowd around two different sections of the room. There were several computer stations with dividers between them. Most were now empty. Only two appeared to still occupy a player. The crowd was too thick for him to see them, but there were large TV's on the wall that showed the player's avatars in game. Saeran grinned, thinking about how he was going to tease his brother about this. He would have loved to compete. But, his work made it impossible for him to stand out in any way to the general public.

One of the avatars was a large barbarian with plate mail and a gigantic maul. The other was a tall, thin, elf with chainmail. His weapon was a halberd that was twice its size. Saeran blinked. It was unusual for the cleric class to dominate one on one. Usually, they were a supporting class. He was impressed that this player had made it to the top two as a cleric. He must have amazing strategic skills.

The screen changed, showing the competitors themselves. On the left screen there was a mousy brown-haired boy that couldn't be more than 18 if that. His face glistened with sweat, his brown eyes shiny with determination. His teeth were clenched, his eyes darting rapidly across his screen.

Saeran's eyes shifted to the screen on the right and his breath hitched, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He'd never seen anything more beautiful. The boy was slender, his large headphones almost disappearing into his blonde fluffy hair. He could see the darker roots near his scalp. His complexion was pale, accentuating his large amethyst eyes and pink lips. He was biting his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring as his eyes also scanned rapidly across his monitor. His tongue peeked out and licked his lips. He used the sleeve of his faded blue hoodie to wipe sweat that began to drip into his eyes. He blinked furiously, his long lashes fluttering.

Saeran quickly scanned through the crowd, standing on his tip toes until he thought he saw the flash of yellow hair in the center. He wanted to push his way through, wanted to see this sunshine in all its splendor, but he knew the tightly packed mob would never let him through. Instead, he made his way to the podium where the trophies were lined up and where, presumably, the winners would be displayed. He wrung his hands nervously as he stared at the screens on the wall, waiting for any glimpse of the boy. He tried to tell himself that this was ridiculous. Love at first sight was not a real thing. And, honestly, this was probably lust anyway. Just because he'd never felt it before, didn't mean anything.

He looked away and thought about leaving all together. He wasn't equipped to deal with these feelings. His heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty. He swallowed with great difficulty and his breath lodged in his throat once more as the image of the blonde boy appeared, his lavender eyes wide, a small grin on his face as he saw victory in his grasp. Sure enough, there was a giant eruption of cheering from the crowd around him, a chant rising in volume, “Yoosung! Yoosung! Yoosung!” Saeran’s chest constricted, was that his name? Or the name of his avatar? Yoosung…why did it sound familiar? Like he’d heard it before? He shook his head, trying to dislodge these new feelings. They clung to him, settling into his skin, into his heart, into his head, growing roots deep into his psyche. Both screens now showed only the blonde, his smile from ear to ear, his hair in disarray, arm up in victory.

Saeran closed his eyes and turned quickly, no, he couldn’t deal with this, it was too much. Unfortunately, the mob descended on his area and he was pushed back towards the podium, up to the red rope around it. He tried to tune out the uproar, to try and steady his breathing. He hadn’t brought his medication, thinking he would not need it. He hadn’t for a long time now. He regretted that decision. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to turn. He saw a flash of blonde and he focused on the boy with the widest grin in the world, he focused on his eyes, trying to figure out exactly what shade of purple they were. He noted a touch of pink around the edges. The boy made eye contact and suddenly his smile was gone. Saeran narrowed his eyes questioningly. The boy’s mouth thinned into a hard line and he jerked his eyes away, Saeran could have sworn they had begun to fill with tears.

Why would he begin to cry because of Saeran? Now he was just confused. He watched him step up to the top spot, the brown-haired boy to his right, and a curly-haired brunette to his left. He avoided eye contact, but Saeran could still see he was distressed. His jubilance of a moment ago completely gone. He tried to smile at those in front of him, but it was strained and off. Saeran blinked rapidly, wondering what he could have done to elicit that kind of reaction. His own eyes began to tear up. He’d only wanted to talk to the boy. To figure out what he’d felt in that moment. To understand if it was something they could share. He shook his head, already knowing the answer.

He watched him anyway, enjoying this brief instance before he walked away forever. They presented him with a giant trophy and his grin was once more back, his joy effervescent. He glowed with happiness and triumph. He was surrounded by friends who cheered for him, who looked genuinely thrilled for him. Saeran smiled sadly, his hands shaking by his side. He could never have that. He would never be that happy. He wanted to bask in his glow. He wanted to reach out and run the back of his fingers along his cheek. He wondered what those pink lips would taste like. He let himself fall into the fantasy. Let himself believe he could have something so bright, something so beautiful.

He didn’t know how long the pomp and circumstance lasted, at one point they had set a crown on the boy’s head and the crowd had cheered. It began to disperse suddenly, flooding away from Saeran before he even knew it. Only the blonde’s friends remained, but his eyes remained focused on only Saeran. He found that he couldn’t move, his feet planted to the floor. He saw the blonde straighten his shoulders, a look of resolve crossing his face. He held his trophy in front of him like a shield then stalked towards Saeran.

Saeran took a step back, not sure what he intended to do with the heavy looking weapon in his hands. He stopped just on the other side of the rope and glared at him.

��What do you want now? Come to finish what your friends started?” he gripped the trophy so tight his knuckles were white. His eyes glistened, and his bottom lip trembled, but he faced Saeran with determination, even if his voice cracked. Saeran blinked, a conflicting and enormous amount of emotions playing out within him. Hearing the boy’s voice was thrilling, it was soft, sweet, and melodic, with a touch of edginess to it. But, his words were like a dagger to his heart. His team mates! Of course, that was why he could be hated so easily.

“I…no…I didn’t…I mean…” Saeran took another step back.

“Let him have it Yoosung!”

“Give him hell!”

“You tell him!”

Saeran wanted to run, wanted to fold in on himself, but he couldn’t look away from those eyes. How could he tell this beautiful angry boy that he only wanted to talk to him? To spend time with him. To get to know him. To explore these new, unknown feelings. To see him smile, to hear him laugh, to hold his hand? How? He sputtered, unable to form any coherent sounds.

“Not so brave without your friends, are you?” Yoosung stepped over the rope and loomed towards Saeran, who kept taking small steps backwards.

“No, it’s not…I didn’t…” Saeran tried to say, but what could he really say? That he hadn’t participated in the bullying his team mates had done? That he’d stood by, letting it happen, not helping anyone? That he’d had several chances to tell them they shouldn’t be assholes? He was just as guilty, and he knew it. Whether he had participated or not did not matter. He had let it happen without voicing any complaint. He hung his head, he deserved Yoosung’s anger.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. The hot tears fell from the tip of his nose onto the floor, splashing silently. His hands formed fists and he turned away, leaving the light behind him and ran back into the darkness. He cloaked himself in the shadows that had become his only friends. It was comfortable here, away from any painful feelings. He ran down the hall and out the doors. The night was settling in, the cool breeze hitting his face. He felt the wetness of his tears across his cheeks. He wiped at them angrily and stalked down the stairs towards the long row of taxi’s. He jumped into the first one he saw and gave the man his brother’s address.

Saeran squeezed his hands together in front of him. He let the tears fall, not caring if the taxi driver saw. He tried to steady his heart, to get his breathing under control so that he wouldn’t fall into the grip of his anxiety. He tried the relaxation techniques his therapist had shown him, but the only thing he could visualize now were those amethyst eyes glaring at him. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth painfully. He balled up his fists and started smacking himself in the head as he rocked back and forth.

“Hey! Hey now! Do I need to pull over?” the taxi driver watched his passenger warily.

“No! No, please, just…get me there!” he pleaded.

It must have been good enough for the man, as he settled back into his drive, now glancing at his rearview mirror with more worry than anything.

“Is someone there to help you?” he asked gently.

Saeran nodded, “My brother. My brother.”

The man nodded back with a sigh of relief. Saeran lay his forehead against the cold glass and wept silently.

When they pulled up to the house, Saeran paid the man and gave him a probably too large tip. He didn’t care. The man had been kind and gentle when most people would have treated him roughly.

He punched in the security code of the house and waved to the man. He had waited until the door opened before leaving. Saeran smiled sadly to himself, wondering at the generosity of some people. He walked in, right past the kitchen, the living room, and straight into his room. Seven kept it clean and ready for him always. Saeran would often spend the weekend in the house. He crawled under the clean sheets and buried himself in them. He should take his medication, there was always some in the bathroom, but he just wanted to fade away, to lose himself in oblivion.

He heard the door open slowly and he squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the sheet over his head. He wished he had a thick blanket he could hide under, but he thin sheet would have to do.

“Saeran?” Seven spoke softly, sitting at the edge of his bed. Saeran didn’t answer him, instead, he curled himself into as small a ball as he could. It was a sign Seven easily recognized. He stood and walked out only to return almost immediately. He set something down on Saeran’s night stand. Placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, he squeezed gently, then patted him lightly before walking out and leaving him alone. He closed the door softly behind him. When he heard the click, Saeran turned over and saw a water glass and his medication. He reached over and shook two pills out, swallowing them easily. He placed the half-filled water glass back on his night stand and resumed his fetal position. Soon, he was deep in a drug filled sleep, amethyst eyes chasing him. Saeran’s mind turned the boy into someone that loved him. He let Yoosung catch him, let him take him, let him have whatever he wanted from him, even if it was pain.

…………………………………………

Saeran’s eyes were heavy. He’d cried so much, they were glued together and puffy. His head ached, and he knew it was going to take all day to feel any better. He didn’t care. He wanted desperately to fall back into his dreams. At least in there, he could be with Yoosung. He sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. He smelled bacon and he sat up. Seven was cooking? That couldn’t be good. He jumped out of bed and took a quick shower in his bathroom. Once he was in some clean clothes, he finally ventured into the kitchen. It was still in one piece, that was good.

“Good morning! Or should I say, good afternoon!” his brother’s voice was too loud and Saeran just sat at the kitchen table and groaned.

Seven set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of him, plus a cup of coffee. Saeran took both gratefully with a grunt.

“I’ll take that as a thank you.” Seven smirked, sitting down with his own plate and cup. “There wasn’t much in the house, so I went out this morning to get some groceries.

Saeran arched an eyebrow.

“What? I go out!”

Both eyebrows were now up.

“Just eat your eggs!” Saeran tucked in, he felt famished.

After a few minutes of silence, Seven asked, “Want to talk about it?”

Saeran shook his head.

“Ok, well, you know you can always talk to me.”

Saeran nodded absently. “Can I stay here a while?” he asked.

“Of course you can Saeran, this is your home, it always will be.” Seven assured him. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he prodded gently.

Saeran shrugged. He felt the sting of tears again and he tried to keep them at bay. He set his fork down and lay his head on his hands weeping. Seven was up instantly, his arms around his brother, holding him tight. Saeran brokenly told him what had happened, how he’d felt, and how he would never again see that beautiful boy who looked at him with such disdain. How he felt guilty and helpless. How he felt heart broken and alone. It had always been easy to confide in his brother. He’d always been the only person who truly understood Saeran.

“Oh Saeran, I’m so sorry! But, you can’t give up that easily! You can’t just walk away from your feelings like that.”

Saeran pulled away from his brother and wiped his tears away with his sleeves.

“You’re one to talk. When was the last time you were out with anyone?” he threw back at him.

“That’s different. You know that! My job doesn’t allow me to have much of a personal life.” Seven looked away, taking a seat next to Saeran.

“It isn’t your job Seven, it’s you, it’s me. We…we’re no good at relationships.” He hung his head, Seven didn’t argue.

“Whatever happened with that guy you were talking to online? I thought you really liked him?” Saeran asked.

Seven shrugged, “He lives in Europe, plus, I found out he was married.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No big deal, I mean, it wasn’t as if I was going to skip off to London to see him or anything!” he grinned.

Saeran scoffed at him. “What about that girl you met during your last mission? She was cute.” Seven had shown him a picture of the woman he had worked with, she was blonde, petite, and dangerous.

“Oh, well, she was a little too much for me.” He laughed. “It was fun, for a few weeks, but, not for a lifetime.” Seven sighed. “You know you deserve to be happy, don’t you?”

“What about you? Don’t we both deserve to be happy? I hate it that you sit in that small room all day and night. That can’t be all that you want out of life.”

“I live through you little brother.” Seven grinned.

“Don’t do that. You know I would do anything for you, and I have. But, Seven…I…”

“Are you truly that unhappy where you are? I was hoping you would make some friends, come out of your shell a little. I know you love playing baseball, but, there’s so much more to life than just sports.”

“I’m not unhappy. I just, don’t fit in. They tolerate me at best. Because they need me. But I see the way they look at me, like…like I’m a weirdo. And, worst of all, I still can’t be myself around them.” He looked away. He hadn’t meant to burden his brother with any of this, but that blonde had him reeling emotionally.

“You can come home then. If that’s what you want. But, I still think you should find this boy. Try again.”

Saeran was already shaking his head before Seven even finished.

“I tell you what. You try again, and so will I. Uh, where do you go to meet girls? Or boys? Or, someone, these days?” he asked.

Saeran laughed genuinely.

“Maybe a cheerleader at one of your games? I understand they are very sexy!” Seven wiggled his eyebrows.

Saeran pushed at him, “Idiot, there aren’t any cheerleaders in baseball! But, I might know someone! She’d be perfect for you.”

“Really?” Seven was taken aback.

“Really.”

“Ok, then, do we have a deal?” Seven held his hand out. Saeran nibbled on his lower lip. He didn’t know if he could take it if Yoosung rejected him again. But, he thought it would be worth it. Even if it was only to help his brother find some happiness for himself. He reached out and took Seven’s hand, shaking it forcefully. They had a deal.

I know some people may find Saeran’s reaction over the top, dramatic, or unrealistic. However, keep in mind, he is 22/23 years old and has never felt this kind of attraction. It’s new, it’s powerful, it’s confusing, and he doesn’t have the skill set to process it.

[yan-senna]

Never Without You Pt. 2 (V/B)

By yan-senna

Other links to the one shot: Wattpad / AO3

One shot schedule list

Want to be tagged when I post a fanfic?

Introduction:

This one shot contains Valtor/Baltor x wife! reader. I only own Y/N who is the same age as Valtor.

Here’s part 1 of the one shot!

This is a request from SianiaLarkin01 on Wattpad as well as @winx-is-magic here on Tumblr. Thank you for your request!

After finally finding his wife, Valtor decides to stay with her in the cabin for a while. His plans of taking over the world are put on standby as they get a nice surprise - Y/N becomes pregnant. Nine months later, they welcome their child to the world.

I hope you enjoy!

PS: You can send requests!

Word count: 925

Published: 3/28/2022

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Author’s note:

I apologise for the short one shot as well as for the late publication! I hope you enjoy!

Y/S/N means your son’s name.

———————————————

TW: Nausea and vomit

Valtor wakes up from his sleep, groaning as the bright light from outside hits his face.

Ignoring it, he looks at his wife beside him instead, smiling to himself as he does so. He’s so happy that he finally found her.

About a month ago, he showed her how much he missed her all these years on the night he found her - at least three times in a row.

Sighing in content, he wraps his arms around her before kissing her neck.

Y/N slowly wakes up, chuckling at her husband. “Good morning, Valtor” she says as she smiles at him.

“Good morning” he mutters through his kisses.

She sighs in pleasure as she enjoys the attention from her husband. However, she quickly leaves the bed as she starts feeling nauseous.

“Darling?” he asks, looking confused. His confusion turns into worry as his wife hurries to the bathroom before throwing up.

Quick on his feet, Valtor hurries to keep her hair up for her. He rubs her back while she throws up.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks in a concerned tone.

Wiping her mouth, Y/N looks up at him with tears in her eyes from throwing up. “I think I’m pregnant…” she tells him.

Valtor widens his eyes. He’s going to be a father?

He smiles at his wife before kissing her cheek. “You have no idea how happy I am” he mutters.

“Really? I was afraid you wouldn’t want children…” she slowly says.

She has always had a feeling that children wouldn’t suit his “take over the world” lifestyle.

He chuckles before lifting up her chin to make her look at him. “Don’t be silly, love. I would love to have children with you” he tells her.

Y/N smiles at him. She however gets conscious about her breath.

“I should probably brush my teeth” she says, laughing.

Valtor laughs as well. “You really should” he says, looking amused.

______________________

Eight months later, Y/N is frustrated that she can’t do anything because of her big belly. Valtor has to help her with everything. He has to help her to bed, help her put on shoes, help her grab stuff…

She can’t help but feel bad as he’s here instead of beating the Winx Club once and for all.

“I’m so sorry that I’m preventing you from beating those Winx girls…” she says, looking apologetic.

Her husband shakes his head before fluffing her pillow. “Don’t be silly, I will beat them one day. But right now, my priority is to make sure that my wife and child are comfortable and healthy” he states.

He then takes off her shoes before massaging her feet. Y/N tries her best not to moan in pleasure.

“Thank you, Valtor. I really needed this” she says before closing her eyes, enjoying the massage.

Valtor can’t help but smirk at his wife. “You don’t have to keep quiet from me, darling” he says as he purrs.

She rolls her eyes before gently hitting his arm which makes him laugh.

“By the way, I have been wondering. What are the Trix witches doing now that your mission is on standby?” she questions, looking curious.

He sighs in annoyance. “I have no idea, but I bet they are causing chaos. Unfortunately, not without getting kicked by those irritating little Winx fairies” he growls.

Once he’s done massaging her feet, he sits next to her and gently puts his hand on her belly.

“I can feel him moving” Valtor observes.

Y/N looks at him, amused. “How do you know it’s a boy?” she asks.

“Darling, I’m a powerful dark wizard. Of course I know my own child’s gender” he says as he chuckles, kissing her forehead.

And he’s definitely right.

______________________

A month later, their child is born. It’s a boy, just as Valtor predicted.

The new parents smile as they look down at their son in their arms. “My son…” Valtor says, looking proud.

He was always hoping they would get a child together someday, and here they are.

Y/N rests her head on her husband’s shoulder, gently caressing her small son’s cheek.

“Does this mean you will go back to your mission?” she questions as she looks at Valtor.

He thinks for a while before answering. “Right now, I just want to spend some time with my wife and newborn son. I will finish my mission someday, but not today” he states.

Y/N nods before remembering something. “And what about the Trix?” she questions.

Valtor smirks. “They can wait a little longer” he merely says before kissing her. She immediately kisses back.

Almost as if the baby understands what’s going on, he cries for attention. They stop kissing as they look at him.

“I apologise, Y/S/N. Do you want kisses too?” Valtor coos, gently taking his son into his arms.

The small boy stops crying when his father gently kisses his forehead.

Y/N chuckles before kissing her son’s cheek. “Y/S/N, huh?” she questions, smiling at her husband.

Valtor chuckles as well. “Yes, Y/S/N. I like the name” he tells her.

“So do I” she states as they both look at their son once more.

As they do so, Valtor is in deep thought. He then smirks to himself. He will definitely make the Trix babysit when he and his wife need a break.

However, it might be the child who has to babysit them…

He can’t wait to see what the future will bring him and his family.

———————————————

Author’s note:

The next one shot is “Insecure Love” (SS).

The next Valtor one shot “I Think I Love You” will be published on 8/8/2022!

Taglist:

@zennyloves / @winx-is-magic / @someoneonearth2007 / @iobsessoverfictionalmen

[abraxos-is-toothless]

prompt: saw their phone number graffitied on a toilet stall for rowaelin? 😏😏

Ask and ye shall receive. (You were meant to have this ages ago, but to do long asks for fics I have to actually write it on tumblr now, so I’m rewriting people’s prompts. It won’t let me copy and paste.)

-------

Rowan groaned at the sound of his phone ringing.

It was a Friday night and he, Lorcan, Fenrys and Connall were all sat around his dorm room coffee table, getting ready for their weekly game night. They’d all been doing this since they were kids, right through high school and now into college. People thought they were being silly and childish but it was just what they did. All of them were on the football team in school, girls wanting them for their popularity and how they looked, and then being disgusted when they found out what the boys did on Friday nights, instead of going to parties.

Tonight’s game was monopoly and they were all just choosing their pieces when Rowan answered. It was an unknown number, because everyone they knew, knew not to call on game nights. “Uh, hello?” There was some giggling on the other end and then a few hiccups before he received an answer in a very feminine voice.

“Hi there.” The mystery woman laughed again before she made a shushing sound, which he assumed was for her, considering he hadn’t spoken back yet. Finding it way too funny and thinking it was just a case of the wrong number, Rowan put his phone on speaker, placing it down for the others to hear.

“I think you might have the wrong number.” Lorcan raised a brow and the other three went silent when there was yet more giggling.

“Oh no, I just found your number in the men’s room at the club.” Oh for fucks sake. Lorcan smirked, clearly remembering that night he wrote Rowan’s number in the bathroom, hoping weird men would keep calling him for hook-ups.

“Wait, why are you in the men’s room?”

“I lost my friends somewhere and there was a guy that kept following me. The ladies line was too long, so now I’m hiding in here.” Fenrys was frowning more and more the longer the woman on the phone talked. “I found your number on the wall and I thought, ‘why not?’ but I was also hoping for help. That guy I mentioned is really creepy and forward. I don’t want to go back out there.” Now that was worrying. Rowan was just about to tell her it would be alright, but Fenrys spoke first.

“Aelin? Is that you?” He knew mystery girl?

There was a gasp from the phone, “Fen? Does the dude whose number this is, does he have me on speaker?”

“Sorry Ace. But what were you saying about a guy?”

“Um, he kept trying to hand me drinks, quite forcefully. I think he put something in it but I didn’t drink it. I can’t find the others. I’m scared.” Oh dear gods. Fenrys was about to reply but Rowan didn’t let him.

“Aelin? My name’s Rowan and we’re going to come and get you okay? Don’t move.”

He could hear her let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Will you hurry, please?” Rowan let her know that they’d be there as fast as they could before hanging up. The others stood grabbing their jackets and slipping on their shoes. Connall grabbed the keys to his car.

“I’m not drinking so I’ll drive us.”

When they were all in the car Rowan leaned forward in the backseat, nudging Fenrys’ shoulder. “How do you know this girl?”

“I met her cousin, Aedion, in class the other week. She was waiting for him outside one day and she clapped me over the head when I asked if they were dating. Her tiny dark haired friend, Elide, couldn’t stop cackling.”

“Wait, Elide?” Rowan and Fenrys both swivelled to face Lorcan, both raising a brow at him.

“Yeah Elide, how do you know her?”

“I uh, I asked her on a date about a week ago. We’re going out tomorrow. You mean we’re on our way to help her bitch friend? That Aelin?” This just kept getting better and better. However, Rowan didn’t like that ‘bitch’ comment for some reason. She seemed lovely on the phone.

“You may think her a bitch Lorcan, but would you honestly leave her there for that creep to find?” He said it with a little heat in his voice. Lorcan just shook his head.

“Of course not, and if he’s there when we get to her, I’m going to teach him a lesson or two.”

Good, they could do it together.

oOoOo

Rowan and Fenrys were the ones to go into the club when they got there, heading straight for the men’s room. He still remembered the night Lorcan wrote his number on the wall, laughing as he did it saying, maybe someone will take that stick out of your ass, and replace it with their own. Rowan had smacked over the back of the head after, even though he too was laughing from all of the alcohol. All of his friends had somehow decided he was gay, because all of his dates never made it past the first. It was simply because he just didn’t think he and those women were compatible. Some of them never even asked about him, they just went on and on about themselves, or some didn’t appear to have a mind of their own. Always switching their opinions to what he liked and being overly affectionate way too early. So he stopped dating, hoping that one day, he find the right girl without trying. Maybe he’d meet her in a coffee shop, or in line at a movie.

Or maybe saving her from a creepy guy at a club, his mind unhelpfully provided him.

There were many drunken men and women stumbling about the place, pushing up against him constantly. He narrowly avoided some girl vomiting on his fucking feet just as they made it to the toilet door. Fenrys entered first, Rowan just behind him and they were met with the sound of shouting and a quiet sobbing. A man was stood outside one of the stalls, banging his fists against it saying, “Come on lass, you can’t hide from me forever.” The man’s voice was slurred and he looked as though he was a few seconds away from kicking the door down. There was another whimper from inside the stall and Rowan called out, “Aelin? Is that you? It’s Rowan.”

“Please, please, please get him out!” Rowan saw red at how scared she sounded, turning towards the extremely drunk idiot. Fenrys jumped in before him and grabbed the man’s shirt in both fists, slamming him against the wall with all of the force he could manage.

“Fuck off! She’s fine, she’s with me.”

Fenrys laughed without humour. “Yeah, she’s just pleading for help because you’re so nice. Who the fuck do you think you are, attacking women like this.”

The man scoffed, trying and failing, to push Fenrys off of him. “She’s been begging for it all night, now she’s just being a little bitch.” Rowan’s friend pulled back and punched him, watched him sputter and groan for a few moments before slamming him against the wall again. He took that moment to gently tap on the stall door.

“Aelin, you can come out now. It’s alright.” The lock clicked open and the door widened slowly, revealing the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, his breath catching in his throat. Her hair was long and almost golden in the lights, her eyes were a blue with gold flecks, and he could get lost in them forever. All of the feelings he couldn’t quite place, soon morphed back into anger when he noticed her trembling bottom lip and mascara running down her cheeks from where she’d been crying.

“R-rowan?” She whispered it and all he could do was nod. Aelin threw herself at him, burying her head in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He put his arms around her too, slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted. He could tell she was crying again from the way her body shook in his arms. Rowan rubbed a hand up and down her back, leaning in to mumble soothing words in her ears. Fenrys turned to look at them, eyes narrowing when he saw the state his friend was in. He looked up and met Rowan’s gaze.

“Take her out to the car. We’ll take her back to yours for the night.” Rowan didn’t know how much of a good idea that was, considering Aelin didn’t really know them that well, but he didn’t want to let her go for some reason. The circumstances were horrible yes, but she just felt so right in his arms, fit so perfectly. He nodded at Fenrys, pulling on Aelin to lead her out of the room, turning his head back when his friend called out again, just as he reached the door. “Oh and Rowan?”

“Yeah Fen?”

“Send Lorcan in, would you?”

Oh, with pleasure.

oOoOo

On the drive back to Rowan’s dorm, Aelin stayed with him in the back, along with Fenrys who had swapped with Lorcan. It was about fifteen maybe twenty minutes after Rowan had got Aelin outside when the two finally came out of the club, both with very damaged knuckles. He didn’t ask much but apparently the guy had a bunch of drugs on him, all in small tablets that dissolved in drinks. Rowan didn’t need to know anymore than that to know what the man was planning to do. Aelin had refused to sit up so she was laying with her head on Rowan’s lap, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her bare feet were in Fenrys’ lap after kicking her heels off, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, had just laughed when she did. Rowan didn’t like the little pang in his chest at their interactions.

There was a tap to his nose before a finger started trailing the lines of his face. He only raised a brow at Aelin but didn’t tell her to stop. She moved one of his hands in to her hair and bent his fingers a little and he chuckled, taking that to mean she wanted him to play with it. Just as his fingers started running through the soft curls, scratching at her scalp, Aelin said with a small groan, “You’re very pretty. You have pretty eyes, they’re so green.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” she made a little popping sound on the ‘p’, “and very pouty lips. Very kissable. And gods your hair.” Lorcan made a gagging sound from the passenger seat and Aelin smirked, obviously knowing what she was doing. Rowan leaned down so he could whisper in her ear.

“Your lips look very kissable too, Aelin.” She giggled as he leaned back.

“Tell me when I’m sober and I just might let you kiss them.” She winked at him and Rowan couldn’t help but smile widely at her.

“I don’t just randomly kiss girls you know,” her face dropped slightly so he continued, “I like to at least take them to coffee first.” Her grin came back in full force, lashes fluttering against her cheek when his fingers tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Rowan bopped her nose just as she had done to him.

“You better.”

---------

Should be able to give you the rest of your prompts but slowly, as I said they all have to be rewritten:))

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @lila-baard @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt  @sis-it-dont-add-up  @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr  @jesstargaryenqueen  @notyournymphetish @carbconnoisseur @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln  @superspiritfestival @alyx801 @silentquartz @tillyrubes10  @nightcourtcinnamonroll @acourtofmarauders @rhyswhitethorn @booknerdproblems @acourtofbookworms  @lucy617 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @mis-lil-red @eleonor-da-silva

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

How about a quick one shot of reader drunk texting Henry with a joke question about his sexual prowess and he actually replies? Pretty pretty pretty please? I love you thx🕵🏻‍♀️

Hey anon I totally not know outside of tumblr and totally not was having a conversation about this before I got this message. Thanks for asking about this I totally wasn’t planing on writing anyway 😜

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer​ / @notyourtypicalrose  / @babypink224221/ @fanficsrusz​ / @solariumss / @starlite13 / @ly–canthrope / @mytbel0st / @oddsnendsfanfics / @ravenpuff02 / @sofiebstar / @chamomilebottom / @keiva1000 / @agniavateira / @peaceinourtime82 / @dearlybelovedluke / @diehadess  / @watermeloncavill/ @hnryycvll​

@its-jb86/@mis-lil-red/@mrrightismrreeves  

The last Martini definitely had been to much. Groaning you opened one eye, the sun high up in the sky. Turning yourself around you glanced at your clock. Almost 11am That was not how you wanted to start your saturday. You had been out with a couple of friends, celebrating your new job. You didn’t even know when you got home. All you knew was that you needed a shower and a coffee.

Freshly showered, your head slightly less hurting you leaned with your head on the counter in front of the coffee machine in hopes it would get ready faster if you just kept looking at it. Sighing you reached for your phone. All you friends seemed to made it home safely, your best friend just texted you that she would be over later for your weekly TV Date. You were just about to put your phone down when you got an instagram message

<henrycavill replied to your message>

Blinking you looked at your phone.

“What?” You whispered shocked. Trying hard to think what on earth you could have written him, you closed your eyes. Breathing in deep.

Yes you had a wild discussion about how hairy he was. And yes your best friend insisted on him having to be good at eating out because of that tongue of his. Years ago you had worked as a PA on set for him. He had always been nice to you and one of the reasons you had pursued your dream to become a director.

Mortified you opened your instagram app, getting to your messages.

“Oh my god…” You groaned when you began to read.

<April 11th, 23:49: You probably won’t remember me but i used to bring you coffee daily (milk, no sugar right?) Sooooooooooooo I am having a livid discussion with a couple of my friends about how good you are at eating pussy. Need answer soon, bet a lot of money.>

<April 12th, 00:13: I’m 98% sure that you are drunk. Hope you have fun, as to your question, how much money are we talking about?>

<April 12th, 00:17: Very drunk. I bet 50 pounds on you being a pro.>

<April 12th, 00:22: You gonna share if I tell you?>

<April 12th, 00:24: I would need proof. After that we can talk about it :P>

<April 12th, 00:26: You can’t see me but I’m very much laughing wholeheartedly about this. You made my day. Have fun out with your friends. I will check in with you tomorrow and maybe even answer your question ;) >

<April 12th, 11:44: Good moring, I hope you got back home safely and the hangover is treating you well :P>

Reading that whole exchange over and over you felt like dying on the spot. Not that you slided into his DMs like a fucking teenager, no, he replied. Setting your phone down on the counter you brought your hands up to massage your temples, the headache getting more serious with each second. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed. The only acceptable reaction to this would be to move to another continent. But you couldn’t because you just got a new job. So you breathed in deep and answered him.

<April 12th, 11:56: How weird would it be to say I wish I wasn’t home safely but instead taken to an island with not internet connection? Oh god I’m so SO sorry>

Biting your lip you set your phone down, finally going for the cup of coffee you had been waiting for. A pling of your phone showed a new message.

>April 12th, 11:59: No need to be sorry. We’ve all been there and drunk texted. Usually it’s an Ex though... Shame for you I was bored out of my mind and actually remembered you when I saw you texted me. Usually I don’t look at my messages. Too many weirdos.>

You chuckled.

<April 12th, 12:03: Still you picked the biggest weirdo lol >

<April 12th, 12:06: You’re good. Seriously. You didn’t text me nudes so…>

<April 12th, 12:07: People really do that?>

<April 12th, 12:07: You have no idea…>

<April 12th, 12:08: I’m sorry again. I won’t bother you with questions about your sexual abilities again. I’m sure you’re doing just fine. And I totally would have shared my win with you >

You texted. You were sitting in your bed, biting your lip.

<April 12th, 12:10: Who won though?>

<April 12th, 12:12: No one. Didn’t get an answer, silly. We invested the money in a bottle of Whiskey.> You giggled.

<April 12th, 12:14: A good decision. You could have invited me though…>

<April 12th, 12:17: Invite you? I am only starting in the business, you are the actor with the big bucks>

<April 12th, 12:20: You’re right. Let me make it up to you. Tonight? I’ll buy the drinks.”

Frowning you looked down at your phone. Was he serious? You were still wondering about why he was texting you at all, and now he invited you for a drink?

You would lie when you’d say you didn’t think about him after you finished your work with him. How couldn’t you? Not only was he gorgeous, he also was funny. And a geek. The day you had found him in his trailer playing World of Warcraft you were sure he was messing with you, but no. He was serious.

<April 12th, 12:27: Can we talk about yesterday's question when I say yes?> You texted back, biting your lip.

<April 12th, 12:30: Maybe I can even show you….>

tbc….

[queenof-literature]

A Sick Wild Child - Chapter 6

Hi all! Here's chapter 6 of A Sick Wild Child! Thank you so much for all the support of my first ever story. I don't know how many chapters there will be, but I'm having a lot of fun with it! (I finally get access to a computer again tomorrow hopefully, so my Tumblr posts will stop looking so weird!) Warning: Vomiting in this chapter.

The entire camp was almost packed up within twenty minutes. Considering they had been here longer than usual, Time was impressed. It only became more obvious how worried they were for Wild. While impressive, it unfortunately gave Wild very little time to rest his chest before they had to move him. Time glanced over at Wind, who had taken to braiding Wild’s hair in some places to pass time and sooth him. Even from where he was helping Twilight pack Epona, Time could see the stutters of Wild’s chest. The cub was in a lot of pain, and his brothers could do almost nothing to alleviate it. 

    “Time?” Wind called out hesitantly once he noticed him looking over that way. Twilight and Time both trekked over to their two youngest. “He’s mumbling again and slurring his words and it’s making his breathing worse.” Wind stated with an uncharacteristic grim look upon his young features. Time and Twilight had to kneel down to hear it, but once again Wild was murmuring apologies to all of them. Hylia, just what was Wild dreaming about?

    “Hey, Cub, wake for me please?” Twilight said softly as he rubbed a gentle hand on Wild’s chest to try and sooth the pain. At the contact, Wild’s eyes shot open as he tried to jump to his feet. He barely even got his shoulders off the ground before he became nauseous and his stomach began to spasm from the quick movement. Time reacted quickly and rolled him to the side and held him up slightly. Just this little movement caused absolute fire to race up Wild’s sides, but any sound he would have made were interrupted by his stomach beginning to dry heave. 

    Time held onto Wild as he threw up nothing but bile and spit onto the ground beneath him, tears coming steady from his eyes in agony, his chest caught in an endless mix of dry heaving, coughs, and choked sobs. Time sighed. Even while sick, Wild was holding back and trying to act strong. 

    “Let it out, Cub it’s alright. Happens to the best of us.” Time whispered in his ear while Twilight rubbed his back and Wind ran his hands through his hair. What the rest of the group called Time’s “Dad Instincts” were going insane. Is this what having children felt like? Wanting to take all their pain away, even taking it upon himself if necessary? Wanting to shove all these boys away where the world could never hurt them? But also being proud when they looked the world in the face and bit back? Is that what it is? It was a scary feeling, but not one Time would trade away. He loved all these boys, and one of the youngest was suffering, something Time wouldn’t stand for. Finally, Wild’s heaves calmed down. 

    “There you go, buddy. You’re okay.” Time soothed as he laid Wild on his back once more away from the bile. Wild was muttering random words and apologies in between deep gasps for air, many of which made their hearts clench. Wild still seemed trapped in delusions none of them could pull him out of.  

    “Time we can’t move him like this.” Twilight stated worriedly. 

    “We don’t have a choice, Pup.” Time uttered. “More monsters will follow the last ones and we’re vulnerable here. We didn’t choose the most ideal camping spot. Even if we get some distance between us and here, that’s better than nothing.” Time felt eyes on his back. Looking up towards camp he saw all the boys packed and ready to go, concern clear as day in their faces. Even Legend was struggling to keep his face neutral. 

    “But what if we run into a monster? Or for that matter, a Guardian? Whoever is carrying him can’t just toss him down and fight! Hyrule said that his ribs are fragile now, what happens if he gets hurt again?” Twilight raised some very good points. Time knew he wasn’t being stubborn and he wasn’t trying to question Time, he was just worried for his cub.

    “I know Twilight.” Time sighed. “There’s not a perfect solution here, But you know we’ll all step forward to protect Wild if that happens. But we can’t stay here.” Time wrapped an arm around his protege. 

“I know, Time. I’m sorry. I just don’t want him to get hurt again.” Twilight leaned into his embrace. 

“None of us do, Pup. We’ll figure it out.” Time comforted. Twilight nodded, looking slightly less troubled. Time squeezed his shoulder and and pulled away, turning to address the rest of the boys. “Are you all ready to head out?” Time called, receiving words of affirmation. Time nodded and beat Twilight into reaching for Wild. “Oldest to youngest remember.” Time teased when Twilight turned a small glare his way.

Time thought for a moment about the best way to go about this. An over the shoulder carry was absolutely out of the question, and really so was carrying Wild on his back. That would put a lot of unnecessary pressure on Wild’s chest that it couldn’t really handle at the moment, so he settled for a bridal carry. If Wild were awake and coherent, he would have fought tooth and nail against this, but it was the best option they had. Time reached down to pick Wild up, only to be met with foggy blue eyes.

“Hey kiddo, I need to pick you up. It’s gonna hurt a little bit but it’ll be over soon okay?” Time placed a hand on Wild’s cheek to get the kid to look at him.

“Wh-” Wild was interrupted by his lungs spasming as his ribs screamed in protest.

“Shh. Don’t talk, just focus on breathing.” Time soothed. He gently put his arms under Wild’s knees and shoulders, before standing up as steady as possible. The muffled scream Wild let out hurt Time more than anything so far. It was his decision that put that scream in Wild’s throat. Twilight might be right, but Time had given his orders. Now he just had to hope they were the right ones. Wild’s breaths once again grew shallow and erratic, shaking hands slowly lifting to bunch into Time’s tunic to ground himself. “It’s alright.” Time pressed his forehead against Wild’s. He didn’t understand why the boys jokingly referred to him as the group’s father. He was so awkward in comforting these kids it was just plain sad. Thankfully, Wild’s breathing evened out enough to move him further. Carrying someone bridal style was more difficult than on one’s back, but Time could handle it fine. He would have to pass him to Twilight at some point during the journey though, or the pup would pitch a fit. 

“Alright, let’s head out.” Time announced. Time started walking passed Epona in the direction they had chosen. Epona huffed and sniffed Wild’s hair once Time got closer, clearly expecting the injured hero to be put upon her back with Twilight, even with the load she was already carrying. Time smiled. Just like his Epona. “No girl, I’m carrying him for now. He’s not well enough to ride.” Time nuzzled his head slightly into Epona’s mane since he had no free hands. Epona huffed again and continued sniffing Wild’s hair. Looking down, Time noticed a tiny smile on Wild’s troubled face, hands twitching slightly like they wanted to reach out and sooth her. It seemed even while unconcious Wild tried to ‘spoil her rotten’ according to Twilight.

The group decided to move upwind in order to be tracked by less monsters. They had absolutely no idea where they were in Wild’s Hyrule, and he wasn’t coherent enough to ask. It couldn’t be anywhere near the middle, they didn’t see Hyrule Castle, but there also weren’t any large landmarks like a lot of mountains or the trees in the place Wild had called Akkala. Wild’s Hyrule was massive, and they had no idea if there was a stable anywhere near here and none of them could work the slate properly to check. Overall, it was a mess. 

Four looked at Wild in Time’s arms and winced slightly at the four loud voices within his mind at that moment. Vio hadn’t stopped making suggestions about how to help the boy, suggestions they had already tried. Blue was yelling for the murder of all Moblins. Red was voicing his concerns whenever Wild expressed any pain at all. And Green was trying to calm all of them down while also yelling at Four to do something whenever Wild whimpered slurred out apologies. Four appreciated them trying to help, but dear Hylia they were going to give him a headache! He looked again at Wild and sighed quietly. Even after Hyrule’s words, he still blamed himself slightly that he didn’t notice Wild’s wound sooner. He knew it was silly, Blue told him that, but it still wouldn’t leave his head. He was known for being observant, but he didn’t see this coming. Blue, Vio, Red and Green were right though. He couldn’t do anything about it before, but he could help now.  

Legend was pissed. They were lost, they were antsy, and Wild was hurt. Time was carrying Wild in the center of the group, the other seven forming around them in case a monster popped out of the trees. As stupid as it was, Legend wanted to be the one carrying Wild, he wanted psysical proof that he was there and still breathing, not like Marin… but no. Twilight had to come up with the stupid rule that it was oldest to youngest, and he wasn’t old like Time or freakishly strong like Twilight. Legend sighed and looked at Wild again, then turned to see Hyrule’s dumb smirking face. ‘You’re soft’ the look screamed, and Legend wanted to hit him. 

~

    “My turn Old Man.” Twilight smirked. They had been traveling for around an hour now, which Twilight deemed enough to take his turn. Time rolled his eye at his proteges’ overprotective tendencies. 

    “I’m fine for a bit longer, Pup.” Time sighed. 

    “Whatever Old Man, you keep carrying him and your back is gonna go out. Let the freakishly strong one carry him.” Legend sassed. Twilight sent him a look that was a mixture of insulted and grateful. Legend wasn’t completely kidding. Time shouldn’t be forced to carry Wild the entire way if they had other options. 

“Fine. We’ll take a small break here and continue shortly.” Time stated, making his way off the beaten path the heroes had found themselves on. In Wild’s Hyrule, paths didn’t ward off monsters completely, but they were less likely to show up than in the middle of the woods. The group sat slightly off the path in the shade of the trees above. While they took a breather, Time tried to transfer Wild into Twilight’s arms. The boy simply whined and burrowed into Time. Sky laughed lightly. Sky knew that Wild used to be intimidated by Time, and probably still was. If he could see himself he would be mortified. That thought made Sky frown slightly. Wild had no reason to be embarrassed for seeking basic human comfort after so many years alone. Sky had been trying to teach him that, and he was improving at least. 

“Damn, Cub. I’m offended you would choose Time over me. Your own mentor!” Twilight stated dramatically, causing the other Links to laugh. Wild seemed to relax his hold on Time when he heard Twilight’s voice, allowing Time to gently transfer Wild into the younger’s arms as Wild groaned and winced. He did better than expected on the journey, only gasping a couple of times when the road got a little bumpy. Time assumed it was out of pure exhaustion he didn’t react much on the road, but he’d take anything right now. 

“Alright. Let’s get going again.” Time commanded. The others rose and gathered around Twilight this time, each of them looking for a place to camp along the way. Another hour later and Wild seemed to be getting slightly restless in Twilight’s arms, as much as he could without being able to move around. His hands were clenching and unclenching Twilight’s tunic and he was reacting more often to smaller bumps on the road. Hopefully they would find a place soon so Wild could lay down. 

“What about there?” Hyrule called, pointing to a small rock wall with an overhang, surrounded by trees. Time mulled it over. They had moved relatively far, even in Wild’s massive Hyrule. And the overhang provided shelter they didn’t have before and a side that wouldn’t need to be watched as much tonight.

“That seems like it’ll work. Nice one Hyrule.” Time saw Hyrule’s eyes light up at the praise. Wild and Hyrule were similar in that way. Both wary of opening up, but beaming under praise and gentle touches. Most likely because they had been the loneliest, Time thought sadly.

The group meandered over there, excited to finally be at their destination, but not wanting to leave Wild unguarded. Once they got closer, they could hear a small amount of water, causing the group to relax even more. Now Twilight wouldn’t need to go hunting for water for Epona and they could stock up some bottles for the next few days. Four grabbed Wild’s bedroll off of Epona as soon as they stopped, giving her a small pat as he passed which she seemed to appreciate. Four carefully laid Wild’s bedroll near the back of the overhang, not enough for it to radiate cold off the hard stone, but also far enough away from the fire for the fever he was still sporting.

Twilight brought Wild over and carefully laid him down. Once he moved away though, Wild freaked out. “T-Tw-” Wild’s words bubbled in his throat before dying off in a loud wheeze. 

“Put your pelt over him again.” Four suggested. Twilight rushed to unhook it and placed it over his cub. Wild calmed down slightly, and Four internally thanked Green for the idea. 

“Who knew you’d get so clingy when sick.” Twilight chuckled while soothing some of Wild’s stubborn tufts of hair sticking up. There was no malice in his words however. It felt nice to be needed. Besides, Wild could probably shoot Twilight through the leg with an ice arrow and he would look into those damn bright blue eyes and forgive him instantly. Not that there was anything to forgive him for at the moment. Wild was never the burden he thought he was, and never would be. 

“You want some more salve?” Legend called from where he was helping unpack Epona.

“Nah, it’s not awful right now. We’ll save it.” Twilight called back. Legend simply nodded and went back to work. Twilight looked at Time, one of their silent conversations passing between them. ‘You need help?’ Twilight’s expression asked. ‘No. Stay with your cub.’ Twilight nodded and looked back down at Wild. Stay with his cub he would.      

[aziraphaleandcrowley]

Tldr: me word vomiting lots of random emotions and thoughts I’ve been having about my life. Would put under a read more but tumblr mobile is shite. Ignore if you wanna, I just needed to throw this into the world cos I’ve been so socially distant from everyone in my life that I haven’t spoken to anyone about this, and I’m not sure I would’ve even if I actually replied to my friends more than once in a blue moon

...............................................................

Me: honestly convinced I’m never gonna find romantic love cos I’m ace and probably aro - at the very least I’ve never been attracted to/interested in someone enough to want to date them and the whole being sexually attracted to someone and looking a people and wanting to have sex with them sounds fake and doesn’t resonate with me at all.

Me: is theoretically a very sex favourable and positive person but the idea of sex with someone I’m not dating is just so weird to me but damn do I wish there was someone who knew me and my likes and dislikes to be intimate with

Me: is super duper disappointed to not experience love/sex but is simultaneously doing literally zero to create opportunities cos I just don’t speak to anyone outside of my family and colleagues, and the one single guy I had any interest in at work is gay and has left.

Me: reads fanfic constantly and I’m now wondering whether it is beneficial in distracting me from my loneliness or enhancing it. I think both. I think I need a break from fanfic at the very least but honestly don’t know what I’d do without it cos it’s been my go to hobby for so many years and I legit read for 30+ hours a week and that’s soo much time to fill???

Me: really doesn’t want to have kids in the future cos I don’t understand kids in the slightest and pregnancy is terrifying and I still feel like a child myself and I know this is something which may change in the future but I don’t think so and my mum bringing up wanting grandkids on a near weekly basis recently is kinda starting to put me on edge cos I’m already starting to feel like a disappointment cos I’m an only child and I’m the only opportunity for grandkids - which I know is ridiculous but it how I feel and that’s valid

Me: with my grandad in hospital (he’s gonna be fine, he would be out of hospital if he actually did what the doctors and nurses said about doing exercises etc) it has made me think about the family I do have which is: my mum, my dad, my grandad and my uncle. That’s it. I have two other uncles and several cousins etc who I see maybe once a year but they don’t really count.

Me: has a handful of really amazing friends who I haven’t spoken to in months and I don’t even really know why. They’ve all messaged me and I just havent replied. I’m not trying to actively push them away like I did with a friend in the past who I just felt drained with in the end whenever we interacted, but honestly every time I get a message I just feel exhausted at the prospect of ongoing social interaction. And it’s silly cos I know exactly the kind of thing I could message people about to start a conversation, like I could talk to Emily about finally watching Hamilton and how it’s been two weeks and I’m still listening to song on repeat and how she was right about how good it is and yet it’s been a week and a half since I’ve thought about sending that message and yet I haven’t and just uggghhhh @me

Me: is horrified by the idea of being alone for life romantically, and knowing that between my ever dwindling family and me not talking to my friends that being alone if more likely that I ever want to think about

Me: wants to live a happy life of my own but don’t know how to. I want to move out but can’t afford to on my own and it’s super impractical when I can live with my parents for £20 per week for food. But god forbid if anything happens to one of my parents I’m gonna be stuck at home forever cos I have so little family and my parents have literally no one else to turn to.

Me: wants to do a masters in gender and sexuality studies writing about representations of asexuality on screen but I know I could write and entire book which would be great for phd level but I missed the deadline to apply cos June was crazy and all I’ve been doing recently is working 6 days a week then working on my car for a day before working another 6 days. And even if I did a masters and maybe eventually a phd I have no idea what I’d actually do with it? I have so little ambition for anything right now and the future is just a void of mystery in which I don’t even know what I want???

Me: is starting to think I might actually be kinda depressed. I’ve thought it on and off for longer than I’ll ever admit but I’d do quizzes online and they’d say I wasn’t so I didn’t really think too much more about it (and yes I know an online quiz is shit and means nothing but there’s no one I would want to talk to about it cos I feel like I have to be strong for the people around me and shit but yeah). I know I’m not happy, but that doesn’t necessarily equal depressed. All I know is I’m uninspired and I feel kinda empty. Doing stuff I do enjoy, if I actually do it, just makes me feel tired half the time so I end up trying to nap instead but then I don’t sleep great either, waking up in the night or when my dad is getting ready for work so I very rarely get a solid 8 hours of sleep. I’m irritable a lot too...

Me: even if I am depressed what does it matter? Like it does matter ofc, but my mum is on media for depression and it’s taking her weeks to get an appointment with the doctor to try and get a different dosage. I’m not a danger to myself or others, I’m unhappy, but who isn’t with COVID going on and there are people who need mental health services more than me. Which is really hypocritical of me to say cos I’ve told my best friend so many times that trauma and mental health etc aren’t competitions of who has it worse but it’s the truth. Also my mum and colleagues access the only mental health resources in town and I do not want to deal with interactions with people I know whilst trying to improve my mental health.

Me: I don’t know how many times I’ve said it in posts like this but something needs to change. I was set on a good course at the start of the year. I was getting out, socialising, doing new things, inspired to cook, learn to new music and change my lifestyle, and then COVID happened and since all of that has slowly drained away and I need to find a change to revitalise that. I’d hoped getting back to having driving lessons and working on my car would be a start, and to be fair it’s been less than two week since I restarted doing that, so maybe I can find a new spark of inspiration still. Within a couple of months I will pass my driving test. Hopefully it won’t take much longer than that to get my car finished and on the road (hopefully it’ll take two weeks to finish putting the rear end back together so we can finally get my car back on four wheels, then it’s just lots of little jobs which hopefully won’t take too long). The weather is supposed to be decent this week so I might work up the effort to go for a walk down the fields which always seems to relax me a little. And the cinema reopens at the end of the month so I’d finally have an excuse to get out of the house (I know COVID is not over and things should not be going back to normal any time soon, but I need to do something other than go work for 4 hours everyday and spend 90% of my time at home and most of that time in bed because I have nowhere else to go). I don’t know what else I can be hopeful for in the coming weeks but that’s a start and just listing them out here has made me feel a little better so.

I keep thinking about Patrick from Schitt s Creek, leaving his hometown to escape a life which didn’t fit him and finding everything he needed in a tiny town in rural Canada, and wishing I could do the same, but I know I’d just end up even more alone because I am not a social person in the slightest and don’t kno how to be despite knowing that me making changes is the only way to improve myself.

And then a line from Hamilton about death is easy, living is harder, and I want to make it abundantly clear that I do not in any way, shape or form want to die, but living is hard and I have an easy life. I have enough money that I was able to loan my dad the money to buy a car, and still have more savings after that than he does, I have a good that if not particularly well paid I do enjoy and I’m good at, my family live me in their own way, even tho I feel that part of my social distance and reluctantance towards others is because no one in my family is particularly socially inclined.

Maybe I just really need a hug.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this anymore but I just had so much build of of words in my brain that they had to go somewhere and this has turned into my go to word vomit place

Things will get better. I don’t know when or how but they will. But they won’t if I don’t get enough sleep for a starters. So off to bed I go. If you’ve read all this thank you, I guess, for listening cos I’m not sharing this with anyone irl just yet. And I’m sorry this is so long but tumblr mobile doesn’t let me put in a read now but I want this out in the world even tho no one will see it

[irepookie]

Infinity Ch.6- Of Unicorns and Fairies.

Summary: QUEEN AU where Roger Taylor is a young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: not really. Just fluff, sappiness and swearwords here and there

Disclaimer : I don't own the pictures. The boys are based on Queen, (but slightly changed for the sake of the plot). Piper, Gina and Callie are mine.

So, I’ve decided to change the names back for this chapter, just because.

Found this pic on Tumblr, don’t remember where. Sorry. 

None of the boys would ever forget the first time they met their niece...

It was four days after Rog and Piper's first day at home. All he seemed to do was feed, being puked on, change, being peed/ pooped on, not sleep, survive on coffee, walk around, feed, being puked on... Oh, and cry. Sometimes it was just impossible not to join her.

Besides, if she didn't decide to grow out of the skin to skin thing and found another way to content herself soon, Rog was going to catch some serious cold.

That's why he was happy to get a call from the boys, that gave him a reason to walk out of the feed-puke-change cycle for a while. Also he was glad to speak with somebody without cooing.

All of that said, the prospect of leaving the house for the first time with Piper was scary.

"C'mon Rog, we gotta knock the last demo out before we can send the album" Brian insisted, when he said he'd <<think about it>>.

"And we wanna meet her!" Fred's voice chimed in from the background.

"You do?" He replied above her cries as he laid her on her tummy so she rested across his forearm. "Shhhhh"

"Of course!" Brian reassured. "She's our niece!"

"I don't know man..." He trailed off,  looking down at his kid, who screamed for no apparent reason, making him feel a total useless man for the third time that morning. "She isn't feeling well. And honestly I'm feeling like a piece of  shit too. Haven't slept in 5 days" he then softened his tone looking down at the little girl as he swayed her side to side in a vain attempt to calm the two of them down. "Hush Princess. You're alright."

"C'mon. Don't make us go there. We expect you there at 3..."

"3 Is tummy time" he said automatically.

"Tummy time? What the hell??" Brian had the same reaction he had when reading about it. It did sound ridiculous if you didn't know what it was about

"Yes it's... Lay her on her stomach so she'll eventually learn to hold her head and stuff. It's very important."

He tried to remember the long list of benefits he had read countless times in the books, but his brain told him to piss off.

"And how long does that take you?" The guitarist sighed.

"Oh just a couple minutes but she can get a bit cranky and that's like... I don't know, the time to get her settled down is different each time and... Right after that it's her feed, and I wanna do that here just in case she gets sick on me which is apparently like her own little Olympic sport so then I'll have to bath her and get her ready. And then... Look, 4-4:15 sounds alright? She'll be asleep by then and I'll have time for one song."

"Ufff..  I'm exhausted just from hearing you pal." Brian chuckled. "Okay, come at 4. We'll get our parts recorded so you do yours when you get there. So our silly mistakes won't ruin your tempo" he mocked.

"Yea, yes whatever." Rog chuckled too, feeling the nappy to see if that was the problem.

"But if you don't like our arrangement,. you can fuck yourself okay?"

"What-fucking-ever mate." He replied. The nappy was not wrong, and he was running out of goddamn ideas.

"John asks if You still remember to play." Brian laughed.

Rog didn't dignify that with a reply and simply hung up to focuse on his daughter. She had to be fine! "Hey baby, what's wrong? C'mon," he pleaded "I've just fed you, and you can't be dirty yet. So what's the matter, hon? Give me a clue and I swear I'll figure it out but I need your help darl'." He began to pace around the small apartment, and placed his hand on her back for support.

He adored her, really, but for someone who couldn't even roll on herself, or anything at all by herself, she kept him on his toes and worn out.

"Come on, come... Oww." Just as requested, Piper replied to his questions by puking all over him. Fuck. He always forgot to burp her after the feeds! He just couldn't remember it when he had to. And the Prune always made him pay the price. He sighed, giving in to the cycle again.

Thankfully, just as Rog had predicted, by 4 Piper had settled into sleep, after being changed, fed, and everything. She was all ready to go. And so was Rog. Or so he thought.

Had he grabbed enough formula? What if he lost a pinky? Better get them all. It was February, maybe she'd get cold so he grabbed a few more blankets. And a parenting book just in case something new happened he didn't know how to handle. Oh and a change of clothes, and half a packet of nappies. And some toys so she wouldn't get bored. Okay, now they were ready to... Oh fuck, where had he left the car keys?!

To put a long story short, he basically ended up stuffing three extra bags into the car "just in case" but almost forgot Piper inside.

Meanwhile, in the studio….

"He's late." Fred pointed out when the clock ticked 5 and their drummer still hadn't shown up. That was usually Fred, who was often late and even tho Rog came close second, it was unlike him to take this long.

Then again, Rog was pretty much unlike himself lately.

"Do you think they're fine?"

"Sure. Maybe he's just fallen asleep." John reassured.

"Maybe he's had to go back cause he's forgotten the baby." Fred giggled. That would be something Rog was totally capable of.

Suddenly the door opened, and Rog entered with a bag one hand Piper's car seat on the other. His hair couldn't be messier if he tried, and... Was that vomit on his shoulder?

"This is she then?"

"The one and only." Rog beamed proudly as he set the carseat where they could all have a look at his newborn daughter.

"She's... " Brian raised an eyebrow, not really sure of what to say. "Um... what's the regular comment?"

"Oh you can say it. She's a prune." Rog admitted, while readjusting the green blanket on her for the 10th time since they had left home. She was wearing 5 layers plus the blanket, and honestly looked so cozy Rog was proud of himself; if he managed to end this first outing without the prune catching a cold, he'd consider this a success.

They nodded in agreement. She was a . wrinkly thing for sure.

"And this is nothing compared to how she looked on her birth day." Rog continued. "But she's a beautiful prune. My lil' raisin" he smiled softly at her before glaring menacingly at his band mates. "And I will punch the shit out of whoever disagrees."

The other three laughed nervously, instinctively backing up a little. They knew Rowan Queen wasn't one to joke about punching.

"She's one cute prune." John agreed a smile from ear to ear, going to hug his friend, soon joined by the other two.

"Em, what's that smell?" Fred said, as they all scrunched their noses and looked down at the carseat.

"I don't smell anything."

"Well, pal... She must've killed your nasal nerves or something cause... Damn" Brian said

"But she can't... I mean she's just gone." Rog leaned over to sniff around his daughter sides so he wouldn't disturb her. "Nope. Not her."

Fred leaned over him and breathed. "When was the last time you took a shower, man?"

The thoughtful expression on their friend's face was all the answer they needed.

"It's you" they all said at once.

"Aw, fuck really tho?" Rog smelt his armpit. "I still don't smell anything"

"Brain defense mechanism." Brian pointed out. "Oh wait you missed that biology class cause you were hangover again."

"Shut up, Brian. I'm hella sleep deprived you don't want to mess with me."

The others chuckled. He was the embodiment of exhaustion, but something had changed. He looked... Happier somehow. And still capable of punching someone in the face if tempted.

"So, let's begin." Rog clapped his hands together, anxious to finally get back behind the drums.

"Wait, you just gonna leave her here?" Ren asked.

"Yes. I can see her just fine from my spot. C'mon." He leaned over to kiss her forehead and entered the booth.

"Ain't getting in there with you, stinky dumpster." John scrunched up his nose.

"You're the ones who wanted me to be in the studio." Rog crossed the door and sat on his beloved stool. Damn it felt good to be back.

He had been so busy with Pips he hadn't really thought about drums, but now he realized how much he needed this.

"Where do we begin?"

"Sandstorm. Remember?" Brian smirked.

"Yes you just... Get the stick, hit the snares..." John joked.

"Don't forget the metal yellow Chinese hats. They're cymbals."  Fred chimed in too.

"And that pedal you have there? That's a base drum, very important."

He rolled his eyes, but played along, after letting his eyes flick to Pips. "How? Like this?" He played badly on purpose.

"Yes, lastly, there's a thing called rhythm , y'know? Try now?" Fred added.

His eyes flicked again to Pip, who stirred slightly. "Okay enough bullshit. Let's get started."

They did it in one take as he didn't lose tempo at all. Infact he was somewhat proud of himself for still having the skill on the kit. (Because, it had been less than two weeks since he had last sat on the stool, but it felt like years.) He also found his eyes flicking to his Piper every ten seconds or so, feeling the compulsive need to make sure he was fine.

Of course she was. She was sleeping in the car seat, nothing was gonna happen.

Timing was perfect. Just as the song was ending, he saw her begin to squirm in her car seat.

He finished the final bit with his eyes nailed on her, even sped up the tempo unconsciously, anxious to finish so he could get to her.

The other members noticed, of course, but didn't say anything when following his gaze towards the squirming infant and figuring out. They'd re-do the last bit later. That could wait. But watching Roger Taylor  interact with a baby -not any baby, but HIS own baby- was something as unimaginable for them at that point as seeing a fairy riding a flying yellow unicorn.

They didn't know what to expect.

"Hello sweetheart." He cooed, exiting the soundproofed glass to the table where her carseat sat and lifting her small squirming body to his sweaty chest. "Hey my love. Hey. Hush. Shush.  What is it? What's the matter darling?" He cooed, kissing her forehead. She was unusually warm. "Hey, you're feeling hot baby? Hmm? Well let me take care of that."

He lowered her to the couch and unswaddled her before taking another layer out. Maybe he had overdressed her. It was the first time they were properly out and he didn't know what to expect, so he decided to stuff her into 5 layers, before bundling her up. Okay now he knew that was overdoing it. "There we are lovie. C'mere." He brought her back to his chest, a smile escaping his lips when he felt the gentle tug of her small hand wrapping around his hair.

"Shhhhh. It's alright. It's okay baby." He began to pace rythmically around the room for a few minutes, until she calmed down. "There you are, you just wanted Daddy huh? Well I missed you too lil prune" he spoke, oblivious to everything else including the three pairs of eyes following them around as if he was a unicorn holding a fairy.

Damn he was like a completely different person.

"I didn't know he was so good with kids." Brian mumbled, all his doubts and worries clearing, if only a bit, at the look in his friends eyes.

Rog had always looked like he would become the typical bachelor with no ties and no commitment. Now he just looked like someone who was desperately in love.

"Paternal instinct, gentleman" John announced. "But I'm surprised he has one, tho." He added, after a moment of consideration.

The three of them had made a bet on whether the drummer would knock someone up, and apparently he and Brian had won Fred. John had been the closest: he said he'd do it before finishing high school.

But none of them had gone beyond that. Nobody was crazy enough to ever see this outcome happening. However, from that first conversation on the phone, something in his brother's voice when he told them about his new <<Lil'raisin>> sounded just right to him. And the way he now paced the room clutching the small bundle to him as if she was a treasure, just proved his point even more.

"Daddy..." was all Fred managed to mouth out of the hundreds of thoughts flashing on his brain. He was, to put it simple, speechless, but we'll get to that later.

"You're gonna love this place when you grow up, yes you will." Rog's voice continued, as he made his way back to the table. "And we will teach you to play Everything. And I bet you will rock on drums, just like Daddy..." His heart jumped in his chest at the concept of teaching his Prune how to play.

"Yes, he's called himself Daddy without any... Sexual subtext" Brian commented back to Fred.

Oh Fred's subtext was very much so.

"Little Rog finally grown!" John grinned, startling the drummer, who jolted out his bubble and held his daughter close.

"What?!" He hissed, offering his index to the babe.

"Nothing, just..." Brian began.

"Commenting the situation." John grinned.

"Hmm" Was all Fred could hum, still transfixed in his trance.

His friends just waved it off. This had happened before, once backstage -well, if the Campus' canteen restroom counted as backstage-, while they got ready. He was fine after a while.

"Is she okay?" John nodded towards the infant, who hadn't quite settled down yet.

"Oh, yes. Just... Overheated. It's a new feeling to her, cause our home isn't exactly a warmest place, is It?" The new dad changed her to an upright position on his shoulder so he could rub comforting circles on her back. "No it's not, so we have to sleep all bundled up." He looked up at his friends "Which reminds me I need help with the crib. I don't have time to do it alone and I'm afraid to end up crushing her one night."

Well, scared is not the word. Rather <<Terrified to the point sometimes he only felt it safe to sleep on the floor.>>

"Sure mate. We can help you out while you take a well deserved and needed shower." Brian suggested.

"Sounds like a plan"

Meanwhile John approached from behind Rog to get a good look at her. She was still wrinkly, but her eyes were already captivating and John knew she would use them against all of them in no time. Of course it was too soon to make out who she looked like, let alone start trying to guess who the mother was. And... Wait, that on her forehead...  "Is she supposed to have acne already?"

"Yep. I freaked out too when I saw it was, but it'll disappear in a bit." Rog said "Wanna hold her?"

"Woah, you sharing your girls?"

"Gotta look for her pinky anyway."

John grinned and held his arms out.

"Know how it goes?" Rog questioned, without moving one muscle.

"I'm studying pediatric psychology." John said matter of factly.

"That you're studying kids don't mean you actually know what to do with them."

"You didn't even studied kids -or anything at all- and you're fine. I got a bonus."

"If you fucking drop or hurt her man..." Rog warned, suddenly insecure about letting his child go.

"Just give her over, damn." John urged.

Rog kissed her forehead and passed her to John so he had her nestled in his arms.

"All good?" Rog asked. It felt weird, after being just the two of them since they had been discharged, to see her in someone else's arms. Which was ridiculous cause he was only turn around for two minutes to look for whatever pinky that hadn't decided to hide away.

"Perfect. Stop being a moron and do what you have to do." John looked down at his niece "Hello darling Piper. I know your brain is still hardly developed at this point and you're not gonna remember any of this but I'm your uncle John and I already love you very much." And he did. He knew he'd do anything for that new little person.

"Sappy." Fred grinned, back to being his witty self again.

"You cried watching Titanic. Your argument is invalid." John replied, eyes not leaving the tiny girl, who stared back at him.

"Everyone does, always."

"It was the 10th time you watched it!"

"And I don't trust anyone who doesn't cry every time Jack..." He chose not to say it, or he'd break down just from recalling it.

"He's a silly one, that Fred, isn't he?" John cooed down at Piper, who kept looking at him with those round grey eyes, and he had a vision, or a prediction, that those eyes would make him buy her a pony in a few years time.

"I'll just never understand why people speak with that high pitched voice at kids. It's ridiculous" Brian rolled his brown eyes. He was an only child, and the youngest cousin of his family so he hadn't really got to treat with kids too often.

"Well, out of all of us You're the one  who sings like the Smurfs, so cut it." Rowan arrived with the purple pinky and carefully put it in her mouth.

"You gonna go back to sleep or you're done?" He asked with the highest note on his register, just to piss Brian off "We should probably get going to my place so I can shower while she's happy."

"Why the hurry?"

"Cause it's only matter of time before she needs something and I'm not letting you do it. Nor have the time to teach you how to change a nappy or make a bottle" he carefully took her from John and walked back to the carseat, placing her inside and slinging the bag on his shoulder.

"And for the record, you are the the one soprano here, Mr.Galileo." Brian said.

Rog pretended not to hear him, already crossing the door.

"Wow."

"Unbelievable."

"No way."

That was the general reaction to the status of Rog’s appartement, now full of empty/ half full bottles of formula instead of booze, parenting books instead of Playboy magazine and Forbes... And the smell of powder instead of Marlboro.

Just Wow.

"Holy damn Rog" Fred said, unable to hide his amazement.

"What?" He placed the carseat on the kitchen table, and stared at his daughter -who had fallen back asleep with the car's movement- while debating on whether picking her up or not.

"You live in a... This..." He didn't have a right expression to describe what his apartment had turned into

"Is this the wrong house?" Bri joked.

"Nope." He settled on taking her out and putting her on his bed while he showered.

"You live in a bloody nursery" Fred finally said.

He chuckled. "Just haven't had time to organize. Tho I've already assumed she's gonna take a shitload of room. But that's okay." he cooed, gently swaying out of reflex even though she was asleep and didn't notice.

"You've never been good at sharing..." Brian started, but Rog wasn't going to have them pointing out what they thought he could or couldn't do. He had enough with Mom.

"What is this? A kindergarten lecture?" He interrupted.

"Apparently." Fred still couldn't believe his eyes.

"Well shut up and check out the crib."

"Where had she been sleeping?" John questioned as they followed.

"With me. Well, if we can call it sleep."

After 4 days on their own, Rog had got to nearly master the art of swaddling, or burrito Rollin as he liked to call it, and while he knew the likelihood of waking her up in the process was high, he knew it was a risk worth taking. Then again it had taken him forever to get her settled and... What was the worst thing that could happen?

"I'm gonna leave her here. Try not to sit on the mattress cause that may disturb her."

"Can we talk?" Fred whispered. He wasn’t used to babies, he didn’t want to break her or something.

"Yes, and you don't have to whisper. Talk normally. But don't fight. And just... Keep an eye on her, you know?" Rog said, before disappearing into the bathroom next room.

The three men nodded, and turned to the unassembled wooden crib leaning by the wall.  It was actually big for a newborn.

"Why didn't you get a smaller one?" Deaky asked, as he examined the item.

"Cause she'll eventually grow out of it and that will mean having to buy another one." Mom had wanted to give them a present, so he asked her for money to buy a nice crib that would hopefully resist the next couple years.

"Clever."

"Hopefully this one will make it through the next two years or so. Until it’s time to move her into a bed."

"Alright. On with it."

Only 5 minutes into it, Brian noticed the kid's arms moving, as if she was having spasms.

"Errr... Should we tell Rog about it?" He asked his flatmates.

Rog also heard it, tho, and stopped the shower in panic. "Tell me what? What's going on? Is she okay?"

"Is it normal for her not to stay still?" Freddie asked

"Like her limbs are all over the place?" Bri added

"Oh, yea. Fuck you goddamn scared me men!"

"Well she was scaring us!"

"It's normal. It's..." He didn't feel like infodumping an encyclopedic speech about that. He didn't wanna be one of those people. He sighed in relief and ran the shower again. "She's okay. Don't worry."

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warm, refreshing sensation of the water falling over him. And the relaxing sound it made. Damn, it was good to have a moment of peace without having to worry about his kid being left alone, or feeling guilty that she was next room, or worrying about her waking up with him still in the shower.

Fuck yea, he could've fallen asleep in the act. And he would have

Brian May, John Deacon, and Freddie Mercury were pretty intelligent people. Brian was a honour student, John would have also been if he hadn't caught that flu during the last term of High School, and Fred... Maybe he wasn't the most focused and self disciplined student in the room, but he was creative and witty in his own way.

However, 20 minutes after starting with the crib, they still hadn't figured out one single thing.

"The bloody instructions are in Korean!" Fred complained.

"Yea, we've noticed!" Brian replied, through gritted teeth.

"Why the actual fuck did Rog buy this shit?!"

"It was the cheapest one, for sure." John guessed, pawing around in search of the nail that had just fallen.

"Fred, that screw doesn't go there!" Brian said

"Well it didn't fit anywhere else, so I'm just gonna try in every spot until the goddamn thing gets in!" Fred had never been one for patience.

"Goddamn it..." The guitarist shook his head, running his eyes through the manual one more time, in hopes that he'd come up with something. But no.

"It can't be so fucking hard!" Fred grunted in frustration.

"Guys, I think we're losing perspective here.  We should just calm down and~"

John was interrupted when a cry broke the air, just as Rog was almost done soaping his hair.

"I'll get her. You guys figure it out" Fred announced, anxious to get away the bloody crib.

"Ha. You've never been this near a baby before. I'll do it" John said, also standing up.

"You've already held her earlier. It's my turn." Brian spoke, jumping on his feet.

"Precisely because she's already met me...".

"Oh, bullshit! You just wanna leave us here with the fucking crib!"

"Watch your mouth, Fred! There's a kid..."

"Can  any of you just fucking get my daughter?" Rog's voice called from the bathroom.

John was the fastest, and he lifted the squirming infant up with one swift movement. "Hey darling."

She kept crying, and squirming all over the place.

"You got her?" Rog asked.

"Yep. What should I do?"

"Just hold her until I get out. I'm almost done."

"Okay" he manoeuvered the infant back  in the position he had her earlier, so he wouldn't drop her.

"Just careful, don't move her about too much. I almost drop her tonight when I was making a coffee. Poor Prune's got enough frights."

His friends chuckled. Rog will be Rog. Always clumsy.

"Hey, where's the hammer?" Fred asked Brian .

"Why would you want a bloody hammer now?"

"Cause I can't roll the goddamn screw in, so I'm gonna try smashing the little fucker in!"

"You're gonna break it like that!"

"Well you got better idea? Huh? I didn't think so, so give it here!" Fred demanded, snatching the tool from Brian.

Meanwhile, John was busy trying to entertain the babe until her dad  came. Then he noticed some red scratches on her already red face, his expression changing into concern "Rog" he called over the cries and the shouting between Brian and Fred.

"Yes?" He answered, blinking the urge to sleep away.

"Something's wrong..."

"I've told you, it's normal that she moves that much. Just hold on to her..."

"No, Rog, These cuts..."

"What cuts?!" That was all Rog needed to snap out the drowsiness. The shower stopped, and he jumped out the shower.

Fred almost drops the hammer at T's foot at the sight of soaking wet naked Rog.

He. Was. Hot.

A fucking deity.

Michelangelo's David.

But of course Rog was oblivious to it. Not to the fact that he was hot, that he knew, and had taken advantage of it. Take Piper for evidence.

But what he or the other two band members ignored was that for Fred, Rog was... Everything. And he'd be lying if he didn't say he had actually drawn the Michelangelo's David with Rog's gorgeous face instead.

He'd be lying if he said the sight of his beloved with a baby hadn't made his heart melt and twist at once, and set a storm of butterflies fluttering on his whole body.

He'd be lying if he denied he loved him.

He'd be lying if he denied it, yea. But he'd lie straight away, nonetheless. He wasn't ready. He doubted he'd ever be.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, the concerned dad leaned over to take a look at his baby's face. It did have scratches. Bleeding scratches. But how?

"Oh God." He said "But I... They weren't there 20 minutes ago, were they?"

"No, not at the studio. She was fine." John answered, also examining the wounds. "What do we do?"

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🎼🎼🎼🎼🎸🎸🎸🎤🎤🎤

Well, as always, a big Hooolaaa a mi hermana del otro lado del charco (across the pond) @definitely-darcy, who’s always giving me little prompts to keep this shit up. Finally used the crib one, but it’s a bit dull maybe? Anyway, love  ya dude!

[juniperhillpatient]

Summary: After Bill tells the story of a photograph from Georgie’s photo album winking the others share their creepy experiences as well. Eddie can’t get his encounter with the leper out of his mind. 

Pairing: Reddie 

Length: I wrote this on Tumblr so I have no idea how many words it is but it’s way longer than I originally intended and if anyone at all enjoys it I may add a part 2

A/N: Trigger warnings for the q slur, mentions of child neglect and emotional abuse and mentions of pedophilia - all only implied and taken directly from the book 

Enjoy <3 

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

Pictures don't wink either. 

The words kept repeating in Eddie's mind like an obnoxious alarm he couldn't shut off. Ben Hanscom was right. Pictures of dead (murdered) little boys didn't wink, and mummies weren't real, and if they were they wouldn't wear clown suits. 

So maybe Richie was right, and they had all had bad dreams and they were being silly little babies and none of it was real. 

Maybe the leper had been just that, a bad dream. Despite being the most logical answer, something about this explanation felt like the kind of comforting lie adults told to make kiddies sleep at night. 

I'll do it for a dime. I'll do it for free! Hey, Eddie, I'll blow you for free! Come on, don't you want a blowjob? 

Eddie put his hands over his ears, but it didn't help because the voice was in his head, an echo. He hated that slimy, wretched voice, the voice of the leper. He wished he could bleach it from his mind. 

Eddie shuddered. He could still see the leper with the rotted face, his nose two empty nostrils like a snake, his flaky skin covered in dried blood crumbling off, and the stench of death and vomit pouring from his oozing, wretched, flesh, reaching that rotten hand towards him - 

You'll rot! You'll rot too Eddie! 

Of course, that's not what Richie had meant when he told him about how leprosy made you rot, but it's what Eddie had heard. 

He stood up, brushing off the seat of his shorts to make sure no dirt remained because 

(What on earth did you get all over your clothes? Were you rolling around in the muck? You know better! Dirt is germy, and if you get germs you'll get sick, my god do you have any idea how much stress you put on your mother Eddie?)

because he didn't want to get dirty. 

The Kenduskeag pushed against the dam they had built a few hundred feet from him. Eddie looked around, nervous, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that he was not alone, that someone (the leper!) was watching from the bushes. 

He shuddered. He was supposed to meet Richie to play. Everyone else was busy, so it would just be the two of them. Richie was late though, or Eddie was pretty sure he was. He didn't have a watch, but it seemed like he had left only about twenty minutes early and it had taken him at least ten minutes to ride his bike over. He didn't know how long he had been sitting on the bank watching the water and thinking, but it felt like long enough. Maybe Richie had forgotten or gotten tied up at home. Or maybe, a worse thought crossed Eddie's mind, Richie had run into Henry and his gang on the way over. 

Eddie looked around and shrugged, deciding to head back to look for Richie in town right when something rustled in the bushes nearby, and he whipped around. 

He screamed as someone jumped in front of him, falling backward and bumping his head on a tree root, hard. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. All he could think about was the leper, lurching through the bushes, bony, dead hands reaching towards him as he lay vulnerable on the ground. 

He felt himself relax and then tense up with anger as his vision cleared and he saw Richie doubling over in laughter. 

"You-" Eddie started to open his mouth to call Richie a whole slew of names but he felt his throat tighten up. He fumbled in his pocket for his aspirator, but it wasn't there. Panic was taking over as breathing became more difficult. 

Before he could go into a full blown panic mode, he felt the aspirator being pressed into his hands and raised it to his mouth to give it a pump. 

Richie was looking at him with concern. The aspirator must have fallen out of his pocket when he fell backward. Now that breathing was again an option, Eddie felt the dull pain on the back of his head getting worse and reached up to touch his hair. With some alarm, he felt that it was damp. Pulling his hand away he looked down and yelled when he saw it was covered in sticky, bright red blood. 

"Oh you complete dick!" he yelled, glaring at Richie. "Look what you made me do!" 

"I'm sorry," Richie said, looking helpless. "I was just trying to get off a good one Eds, I swear! I just wanted to make you laugh!" 

"Well, it wasn't funny. My mom is going to drag me right to the emergency room the second she sees my head." To his horror, Eddie realized that his eyes were filling with tears. 

No, no, no. I am not crying in front of Richie.

He told himself he wasn't going to cry, but the tears came anyway. He didn't know if he was crying because of the pain on his head, the dread of another trip to the emergency room, the dread of seeing his mother's face, or a combination. He had a feeling it was something else too. It was that horrible, brief moment he had believed the leper was back and it was coming to get him, coming to make him rot from the inside out. He collapsed onto the forest floor, sobbing. 

"Hey," Richie said, sitting beside him and, to Eddie's relief, no longer laughing. He was also relieved to recognize Richie's regular voice. "I really am sorry." 

"It's okay," Eddie muttered, wiping his eyes and blowing snot onto his sleeve. 

"Maybe your head will heal up after a few hours and we can rinse off the blood and your mom will never have to know." 

"Yeah," Eddie said doubtfully. "Maybe." 

They sat in silence for a few moments. "Look Eds, I really was just messing around I didn't mean to scare you so much."

"I know you didn't," Eddie said. He hesitated. He didn't know how much to confide. Would Richie laugh at him? Call him a baby (or a queer) for dwelling on the leper so much? "I was thinking about the leper before you got here. I can't seem to stop thinking about him." 

There was silence for a moment. 

Why Eddie? And why did you go back to that house in the first place after the hobo chased you the first time, huh? Why would you climb under the porch? You idiot. Did you want the leper to get you? Did you want to rot from the inside out? Your mom would love that, wouldn't she! Her fragile little boy, rotting from the inside out! 

Of course, Richie did not say any of that. He was an idiot and he rarely said the right thing, and he sure could be obnoxious, but he was not cruel in that way that Henry Bowers or Victor Criss or Belch Huggins was. One thing Richie Tozier was not was cruel and Eddie hated himself a little for being afraid his friend would say any of those things when Richie finally did reply. 

"Sorry I doubted you Eds, I guess I just didn't want to believe any of it could be real." 

Eddie paused. "I know," he said. "Me either." There was another pause, a moment of silence in which they both contemplated the terrible things that they were learning lived in the darkest corners of Derry, under the ground and in the abandoned houses and under the bridges. 

"Well look at it this way Eddie Spaghetti, at least he said he'd blow you for free! You must be hot shit, he wasn't even going to charge you a dime! I mean I'm no homo but clearly, you're desirable - isn't that something!" 

"What?!" Eddie shrieked, shoving Richie but also giggling. "Ew! What is wrong with you? And don't fucking call me Eddie Spaghetti!" 

"What's wrong with me? Now there's a question!" Richie was now attempting a voice. It was a terrible talk show host impression. He was talking very fast and in his most official tone, but he still sounded like Richie Tozier to Eddie. "There's plenty wrong with me, my buddy, my pal! Plenty! I could write you a list, hell, I could write you a novel!" 

"There's a book no one would read," Eddie teased. The dark solemnity of the mood was gone and they were both laughing. 

The rest of the afternoon they spent playing in the woods. They played guns, although neither of them had guns, sticks worked well enough for pretend, and they splashed around in the Kenduskeag and patched up the dam a little in places where it was wearing away. 

Eddie was surprised when he looked up and saw the sun was disappearing behind the trees which were casting eerie shadows around them. The crickets were starting to chirrup, and Eddie was alarmed to see the blinking lights of lighening bugs in the shadows. He and Richie exchanged a look. 

"Aw crap," Richie said. "We better get back." 

"Uh huh," Eddie agreed. "I'll be dead meat already, probably." 

They hurried back through the barrens toward the street together. 

Dead meat. Yeah you sure will be! Rotting, dead meat! After I give you a blowjob, a free blowjob! What do you say Eddie?

Eddie shuddered. He tried to focus on the reality instead of the memory of the leper, but the shadows of the trees looming over them, the soft croaking of a frog nearby, and the leaves rustling in the breeze made reality feel far away. Reality right now felt dark and spooky, and suddenly Eddie wished he had stayed home and watched television today instead of coming out to play, forgetting how much fun the day had been. 

Richie looked back at him through the tres. "You okay, Eddie Spaghetti?" Eddie realized that he had stopped walking, and hurried forward. 

He didn't mean to walk so close beside Richie, but Richie didn't seem to mind, or maybe he understood. Maybe he too felt the nervous energy of the forest, like eyes watching them from just beyond where they could see. Eddie was surprised when he felt Richie reach over and grab his hand. He looked up, his eyes wide and questioning. 

"Sorry!" Richie said, letting go. "It's just kinda CrEePy out here, huh?" Richie said the word 'creepy' in his spookiest monster movie voice, making his voice go up and down, but Eddie could hear the real fear there. 

"It's uh, it's okay Richie," he said and grabbed Richie's hand. 

As they continued walking, now hand in hand, Eddie was very grateful for the dark because he could feel his face heating up. 

They reached the road and awkwardly let go of each other's hands as they retrieved their bikes, which they had stored under a tree. 

"Hey," Richie said. "My house is closer and honestly my folks probably won't even notice I haven't come home yet. We could pretend we were playing in my room all afternoon and have my dad call your mom and let her know we lost track of time and ask if you could spend the night. She doesn't drive, right? So she can't really say no unless she wants you riding your bike home all by yourself past curfew, right?" Richie said all of this very quickly, and he sounded nervous for some reason Eddie couldn't quite figure out. 

Eddie felt relief at the offer wash over him. Now that they were out of the forest, a new fear, one that had nothing to do with clowns, or mummies, or ghosts or lepers, overcoming him. It was a familiar fear - his mother, and specifically her wailing shrieks. 

Oh Eddie, you could've died! I didn't know where you were! You could've gotten an asthma attack or fallen down and gotten hurt and those awful friends of yours would've left you behind, you know they would've! I'm the only one who cares about you, Eddie! I'm the only one who will ever look out for you! 

"Yes," Eddie said. "That's a good idea." He would still be in trouble with his mom for not calling, but he would be in a lot less trouble if she thought he had been indoors all this time. And he wouldn't have to face her as soon, wouldn't have to have her fuss over him as soon. He'd almost forgotten his bumped head, it felt fine now, but he thought happily that now he would be able to clean up and make sure she never found out. 

"Yeah! And I can show you my new Tales From the Crypt Comic!" Richie said excitedly, mounting his bike. Eddie mounted his bike as well, unclipping his helmet from the handlebars and clipping it under his chin. 

"Oh Eddie Spaghetti you and that helmet," Richie shook his head. "Cute, cute, cute!" 

Eddie rolled his eyes and began peddling towards Richie's house. "I'll race you to your house!" he called over his shoulder. He glanced back to see Richie peddling furiously to catch up to him. 

"No fair! You distract me with your cuteness than get a headstart!" 

"Can't help it if I'm desirable!" Eddie called back and laughed. 

Richie also began to laugh. They laughed all the way to Richie's house, by which point neither of them remembered why they were laughing. They quieted down as they crept into the garage to store their bikes. 

Three things occurred to Eddie as he followed Richie into his house, and played along with the lie that they had been up in Richie's room the whole time. 

The first thing that occurred to him was that he had not thought of the leper once on the bike ride home. 

The second thing that occurred to Eddie was that despite their screaming laughter as they rode their bikes at furious speeds, he had not felt his lungs close up at all on the bike ride. 

The last thing that occurred to him as Richie asked Mr. Tozier to call Mrs. Kaspbrak and explain the situation and ask if Eddie could spend the night was that Richie really did have his back. 

He followed Richie up to his room, smiling a secret smile that he didn't want Richie to see for reasons he didn't yet understand. 

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

I hope you guys enjoyed, I know this turned out longer than a one-shot usually is :’)

People who liked my post asking if anyone was interested: @evalocity @hair-fiber @skeletontozier @mechanicalhabits - no pressure to read though, if you don’t want to lol I know this got long oops 

If you do read, feedback is appreciated uwu 

PART 2 is now posted! <3

[roundthatcorner]

“I said what I said, and it was wrong, or it was taken wrong, and now it's all this...”

BASICALLY.

So the furor, such as it is, that has resulted from a fairly innocuous post of mine seems to have taken on a bit of a life of its own, so I feel somewhat responsible and need to address certain things. A lot of what's been said seems frankly disconnected from anything I actually wrote, so I'm going to cover some but not all of the misconceptions – particular themes have been chosen because honestly some of the ideas I've been credited with are quite hurtful, to me personally and I think to a few other people.  I'm not 'at'-ing people because I'm not sure it would be at all fruitful or worthwhile to do so, and I'm not going to rebut things line-by-line because that seems more counterproductive than anything. My goal here is to hopefully dampen 'the controversy' (again, such as it is!) rather than inflame it.

On the one hand, I stand by the bulk of what I said – there's been some serious misinterpretations going around, some of which are genuinely baffling – but I can also see that my tone and my contextualization could have been improved. I do 'read' a little bratty or something in that post, which is something I should try to improve upon in the future. As for this post, I'm trying to essentially be the opposite of how I sounded there – be, like, very straightfoward and emotionally open and hopefully not stick my foot in it, or whatever. I'm basically a pathologically shy and conflict averse person, and totally just hoped that this would blow over, so all of this is way beyond my comfort zone. I hope people will see that this post is very much heartfelt, and imbue their reading of it with some generosity towards me and my intentions.

Anyways, the bulk of it, in which I pick out those misinterpretations that I would find it particularly upsetting to let stand as somehow representative of how I think:

a) Re John and being a fan: I love John. I can seriously count on one hand the number of people I love and admire more than John, and the subset under consideration for that isn't, like, 'famous people I like' or 'musicians', it's 'everybody who has ever existed.' I quite simply adore John and if I didn't I wouldn't expend the effort I do into trying to understand him. The implication that I can't possibly be a Beatles 'fan' (said in quotes, no less! Super disheartening), let alone a longtime fan is quite bizarre and insulting. I mean, I think there's a base presumption of 'grace' we should try to extend to other fans: none of us think any of them were or are irredeemable; we are all here because we love them; we all want to see them clearly and fairly. I am (clearly!) not some troll shouting 'John sux!' or whatever. It's not a mark of love for me or anyone to refuse to see John as he was – and by this I don't mean that not seeing John exactly as I do is a failure of anyone else, or deliberate, or that my interpretation is accurate, or whatever, just that FOR ME to limit my interpretation in order to 'keep' John sufficiently lovable or whatever would be silly. John was/is plenty lovable! I don't need to 'protect' myself from whatever dark places may have existed in his mind because I am entirely capable (as I think we all are) of loving him through that (not in spite of that, but THROUGH it, with empathy for him). I don't have to love or accept everything about John to love him – I don't have to love Yoko, or heroin, or Allen Klein, or stupid anti-Semitic cracks, or whatever (which is not to compare those things straightforwardly – obviously – but to make the point that it's okay to dislike things John liked!). We don't owe it to him as fans to make excuses for him; what we owe him is the same as what we owe any human being, which is just to try to understand where he's coming from. That's all that I was trying to do in my post – just delineate the thought processes he may have been having. I don't think I need to surround every discussion about John with 5 dozen caveats about his mental health issues or drug use simply because I have assumed that we all know these things and accept them as the (only) basis for further conversation (and actually I did reference both of those as clear sources of his behavior – I don't know that I can much more explicitly reference his suffering mental health than to say he was experiencing a break with reality). Furthermore, the idea that John's behavior during the final years of the Beatles was at least in part based on virulent paranoia directed at Paul as well as a desire to punish him is not something I came up with – it's a somewhat standard interpretation at this point. Even Paul (who also manages to love John while acknowledging his faults!) has admitted that John became very paranoid, jealous, neurotic, etc. Michael Gerber from Hey Dullblog once commented something like, to paraphrase, the hardest thing to accept as Beatles fans is that John broke up the Beatles and he did it willfully and deliberately...I don't know that that's THE hardest, but it's certainly up there. It's incredibly emotionally draining to consider the dynamics at work during the break-up, but I also think it's worthwhile to do so as honestly as we can, because we love them all so much and because they have so much to teach us, even when it's through this painful, agonizing shit.  

b) Re things assumed about me or what-have-you: It strikes me as really quite unfair to assume that because I've never discussed certain things on this blog (or in that specific post), that I don't understand or have never experienced them and am coming at them from a position of somewhat cruel disengagement or w/e. The title of the blog isn't 'Bisexuality, Mental Illness, Drug Addiction & Me', so I really didn't consider it under the purview and have generally refrained from inserting too much of 'myself' (or at least myself non-filtered through Beatles). I don't talk about feminism, or cats, or Mad Men or make-up or agile software development or robotic vacuums because despite my interest in all of them, that's not the intention of my tumblr. Nevertheless, some grotesque oversharing in hopes of re-assembling/salvaging some of what's been misconstrued:

- I am bisexual...too...like many people are. This gets back to the whole 'text doesn't always telegraph meaning particularly well', but the paragraph for which I was criticized for sounding like a Nat Geo narrator or w/e...as I was writing it I was actually getting quite emotional thinking of...John, like, maybe discovering his sexuality at 16, because that was the exact age where I was literally writing in my diary in cryptic little coded comments about being attracted to girls, and then blacking the comments out and tearing them out of the journal and ripping them up because I was SO fucking ashamed and scared and alone with all of it. Basically, I am not at all looking at this from the perspective of an outsider, let alone a heteronormative outsider.

- To be accused or w/e of not understanding or being unsympathetic to mental illness is more than a little ironically funny to me, because literally the reason I started this blog, writing fics, etc is because after over a decade on anti-depressants, I went off them about six months ago (lest this too be misconstrued, I am not advocating this (or un-advocating it), it simply is). My brain has therefore been 'allowed' to loop incessantly/unconstrainedly on the Beatles for the first time since I was fifteen – so mental illness is quite literally why I'm here! Funny stuff. I don't want or need or feel obliged to go into much more detail about this, so let it suffice to say that I have deep understanding and sympathy for mentally ill people, for John in particular, and I fully appreciate the impact of mental illness on a person's behavior, and any flippancy is, ah, semi-literally gallows humor.

- If I sound hardened or unsympathetic with regard to drug addictions...it's partially because I am on some level. I invite anyone who takes issue with this to go re-live their childhood with the trauma of multi-generational drug and alcohol abuse that I lived with, because I will guess that anyone who is less than saintly, as we all are, will end up just as jaded about it as I am, just from the inescapable daily grind of taking care of addicts. Sorry to sound fairly bitchy about this point, but...idk, man, it's always really really difficult to have people be like, “have you considered their feelings? Have you devoted enough of your life to ritually gutting yourself on the pyre of this or that person's addiction?” Like, yes? Sorry, all the mornings where I had to make sure my dad hadn't choked to death on his vomit before I got on the school bus have kind of drained my sympathy. Nonetheless, some of my favorite people are junkies...

c) Re Linda and Paul: I would never disrespect their relationship, and this is far and away the most upsetting thing to have people skew, because I admire what they were able to create and sustain SO much – it means so much to me in terms of what is possible even from the blackest fucking depths. Linda could have been another Francie, or Heather Mills, or Yoko, and GOSH, how much fucking poorer the world would have been, how much darker. Linda and his kids gave Paul something to live for, a whole second life after the center fell out of his first. They were actually able to make a happy life that was snatched from total chaos and despair – that's so incredible and awe-worthy to me. When I said that Paul chose Linda over dying, I was not putting down their relationship, or devaluing it or her (I think she is maybe the most admirable person in all of Beatle-dom), or anything even remotely like that. For me, there is no deeper compliment to give someone than to say that they chose to keep going when they could've died. I mean, compliment is not even the word for it, I honestly don't think I have the capacity to express this..but, like, this is soul-deep for me, the deepest, sincerest possible feeling. I derive enormous comfort and strength on literally a daily basis from the choice Paul made in the winter of 1970. Believe me when I say I would never denigrate Paul's experience or Linda's role in it or the love and commitment they showed each other.

d) Re interpretation versus facts:  There's some criticism based on me presenting my ideas as facts. I don't think I did this – I couched the thing repeatedly with 'conjecture' (in all caps!), 'my interpretation', 'I think', 'maybe' and 'may', 'a range of possibilities', 'possibly', 'presumably', 'might', etc. I was not presenting what I said as verifiable fact but as my evolving understanding of what may have happened. Besides...all of us are here because we think there was or could have been a romantic/sexual component to John & Paul's relationship. This is not something that is at all verifiable (and it even very often requires that we assume people are lying!). Practically everything we say is conjecture based on our very unorthodox interpretation of sometimes conflicting/contradictory/bewildering information, and I am no more (or less) guilty of presenting my ideas as fact than, I think, anyone here.

e) Re Yoko: I get the sense that this was the main initial point of disagreement in all of this, and the rest of it was kind of...throwing stuff and seeing what stuck (unfortunately some of it seems to have). This is actually the only intractable issue – it's not one based on misunderstanding or a failure on my part to be clear enough. I dislike Yoko exactly as much (or more!) as I conveyed in the original post, and I have good reason for it. Pretty much every day of my life I learn something about her or about the world, relationships, responsibility, children, how a person should treat others, etc, that makes her behavior that much more noxious, inexcusable, and reproachable. Once upon a time I was thirteen and believed wholeheartedly in the Ballad of John & Yoko narrative – but as an adult, I simply can't countenance it. If we were not talking about 'John and Yoko' but rather about 'Joe and Sally Schmoe', or my brother and his girlfriend, or the next case on the docket in the local family court, there would be no question that this was a profoundly unhealthy and damaging relationship. Like...are most love affairs as enormously, relentlessly destructive as theirs was? Is there anyone from John's pre-1968 life that was allowed to really remain a part of his life post-Yoko? What kind of healthy romantic relationship cuts a person off from everything else? Is 'all that I know is just what you tell me' anything other than a deeply disturbing sentiment? Some of this can be laid at John's feet but on the other hand his 25 year old secretary (as well as every other significant person in his life except for his parents and probably Mimi) was able to coax him into being a BETTER person, whereas he only seemed to become an unhealthier and more damaged person the longer he spent with Yoko (and the feminism thing...like, the most feminist thing he could have done would be sending Cynthia an additional $10,000 a month – 'look at the one you're with' or were with, after all). I can't say that Yoko didn't love John but I will say that she didn't love him well – based on the standards for human relationships and interaction that we are willing to apply to normal people. To quote John Dunbar (who is definitely a longtime John fan!), “If I had set out to destroy John Lennon, I could not have done any better than to introduce him to Yoko Ono.”

If anyone wants to talk any more about this, please message or ask me (I will likely not respond to asks in the interest of not encouraging divisiveness or whatever, but I do appreciate what I’ve been sent). I can't control what anyone posts, obviously, and there are maybe still sensitive and insightful things to be said about some of it, so go ahead if you feel the need. For my part I probably won't engage any further publicly, especially since it's been unhelpfully dug into the ground (over...and over...and over) and there's a certain amount of like...willful misconstruing that's going on that’s just not worth getting into.

And just because it came on shuffle, and because sometimes Paul is exactly what one needs him to be, I'll end by saying:

“Is it better to love than to give in to hate?

Yeah, we'd better take good care of each other,

 Avoid slipping back, off the straight and narrow”

:)

[thebibliosphere]

Patreon recipe questions: kosher cookies?

I had an interesting ask which I now can’t find my answer to, so it looks like tumblr ate it somewhere along the queue to posting stage so I’ll just quickly answer it again sans pictures and come back and redo it properly later on—sorry I can’t remember your tumblr name to tag you! :( 

The question was: “I want to make my mom’s cookies for my friend’s birthday, but I think they keep kosher, do I need to change anything? and if so do you have a kosher cookie recipe? also how do you cook for someone with allergies?”

I’ll start this by saying—I’m not Jewish. I merely grew up in a house that was heavily influenced by my Jewish family background so keeping kosher in our house was more out of familial habit than an actual need to adhere to Jewish law apart from my father who worked as a Jewish butcher for some 20 odd years. As a result I may or may not have a few crossed wires somewhere, so if any of my Jewish friends spot something I say which is incorrect, I would love for you to correct me so I can edit it and post the correct info.

And also wow this got long so I am going to throw this under a cut.

If you’ve got a baking question you’d like to throw my way, PM me over on [Patreon] or drop me a line on [Tumblr]. Even if you think it’s really really silly and don’t want it to be a public post, please feel free to ask! We all start learning somewhere :)

-tumblr mom xoxox

When baking for anyone, it’s always a good idea to find out a few vital things about them, such as allergies and food restrictions—and to absolutely respect those restrictions whether they are are a medical necessity or by choice. I can’t tell you how many times someone has thought in the past that I am just being a “picky” eater and accidentally-on-purpose poisoned me because they didn’t believe me when I said eating certain vegan ingredients will make me projectile vomit 30 minutes after the first bite and risk putting me into shock. Don’t be that person. You wouldn’t go up to someone with a peanut allergy and lie about putting peanut butter in your cookies...at least I hope you wouldn’t, because I’m pretty certain on top of making you an asshole it might also constitute towards a deliberate murder charge at worst. It’s the exact same for other allergies, though they are often afforded little consideration compared to the peanut one. Ask them, and do everything you can to avoid cross contamination in your home wherever possible. 

If you think your friend might keep kosher, it’d be a good idea to find out for sure, and how strict the are with it—along with any other possible food issues. 

(There’s also a difference between regular kosher and keeping kosher on Passover which means having to also exclude extra things like wheat, spelt, barley, oats and rye—so that means no cookies until the end of Passover.)

If they are very strict with their keeping of kosher, they might politely decline your kind offer on the basis that even if you manage to get all kosher ingredients, your kitchen itself and your utensils, are not, and they run the risk of contamination. There’s a reason for why the kosher certification is so important on food products. It’s not just about the food itself, but how it is handled and processed, things like meat and dairy never being kept on the same counter/shelf and there’s a whole process involving your rabbi coming to your house and submerging your things in boiling water and a few other things I am likely not remembering from my childhood growing up with a kosher butcher for a father.

Don’t take it too harshly if they do, and respect that wish. You made a nice gesture and the thought will be appreciated. It’s always bullshit when other people feel guilted into eating foods which may or may not be good for them, either physically or spiritually.

If your friend is okay with your kitchen not being officially kosher, then you can jump right ahead to buying your kosher ingredients and baking them cookies. If you want to be extra considerate invest in a new mixing bowl, spatula and bake tray. I have sets of utensils which while not officially koshered by a rabbi, are kept separate from my other utensils which might be used to mix/cut mixed ingredients. I do the same for gluten free and nut allergies with designated mixing bowls and baking mats and spoons (ours was the house of deathly allergies growing up, it just took some 30 years for my allergies to emerge in the form of an auto-immune meltdown) which are kept in separate cupboards. This is in general good practice if you bake regularly for friends with severe food allergies, though those of us with said allergies understand it’s a hassle and don’t expect you to do it by default. We’ll just keep politely declining offers of food, and wishing people didn’t react to those rejections like we’ve just murdered their firstborn over a flapjack.

Assuming your friend is okay with your kitchen not being officially kosher there are still some things you need to take into consideration when picking your ingredients and prepping. I have one friend who greases her cookie sheets with leftover bacon fat—for the added flavor. Needles to say this is not kosher and should be avoided. Use a vegetable based oil instead to line any bake tins or trays.

Butter is technically kosher as it comes from cows which are considered kosher animals, but unless it’s certified kosher on the label, there’s a chance it’s been produced alongside other meat based products (gelatin or rennet) and could be contaminated and is therefore not kosher and should be avoided when trying to bake kosher. If it says kosher certified on the label? Go for it. If not? Well, we’ll be sticking with margarine, which is non dairy. 

Also it’s an important distinction to make, if you do use dairy product in your cookie rather than margarine? You need to tell the person as it might affect the rest of their diet for that day. Part of keeping kosher means not eating meat and dairy at the same time, and some people depending on their beliefs, might need to wait an hour to six hours before consuming a dairy product before or after eating red meat. So depending on how strict your friend is, it would be a good idea to tell them it’s a dairy based cookie, even if it is kosher based dairy. 

Same with your chocolate chips, go for non dairy milk ones like dark chocolate (although it sounds like it, cocoa butter is not dairy, it’s the fat from the cacao bean). If they need to be absolutely certified kosher, then kosher chocolate brands off the top of my head include Equal Exchange and Schmerling’s, both of which bake fairly well when you chop the chocolate bars up into chunks/melt down to make a drizzle. I think Theo Chocolates are considered parveve (neutral) too, if not actually certified kosher. Google around and see what else you can find or ask at your grocery store.

Eggs are considered to be pareve, meaning they do not fall under the meat and dairy rules of kosher, but you will however need to check them for blood spots in the membrane, as those make them non kosher. When prepping eggs for a kosher recipe, crack them one at a time into a separate small bowl, then add them into your mix one at a time in order to avoid the risk of contaminating a whole batch with a blood spot. (I speak from experience, also this is just generally a good way of cracking eggs to avoid getting shell in your mixes for people who struggle with cracking eggs neatly into a mixture) 

The recipe I am familiar with for kosher cookies was the one my Jewish great grandma taught my dad (who didn’t care, so then she taught my mother after they were married), and after googling around for some other kosher cookie recipes, it looks like the same one found in Second Helpings, Please! by Norene Gilletz and Harriet Nussbaum, so this recipe is at least 50ish years old, and I can attest to it tasting good as it was the only version of an “American cookie” we ever ate as kids in Scotland :)

I’ve kept this in cups cause my asker was American, but if anyone wants grams or oz I can find my scales and work it out <3

Things you will need:

2 bowls, a sifter or whisk, a mixing spatula/spoon, and a baking sheet (2 is better cause then you can bake the whole mix at once).

Dry ingredients.

1 cup all purpose flour. 1/2 cup whole wheat flour (if you have it, if not do 1+ 1/2 cups all purpose or substitute in oatmeal flour or even rice flour for added texture/flavor, oat meal gives it a bit of a nutty flavor, rice flour will make it sweeter) 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda.  1/4 teaspoon of kosher salt 

Wet ingredients

2/3 cup of margarine softened at room temperature (do not melt, you need the fat structure intact to carry the sugar, alternatively 1/3 vegetable oil works too. If this is too dry, try adding a little more. I tend to add oil slowly in by feel these days). 1/2 cup finely granulated sugar. 1/2 cup of light muscovado (brown sugar) tightly packed. 1 egg. 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract.

Extras: throw in one cup of your choice of chocolate chips (or extra of your choice eg. raisins, chopped nuts)

Method:

Preheat your oven to 350′f and either line or lightly grease your cookie sheets.

In one bowl beat together your wet ingredients until light and creamy. And because I get asked this every now and then, yes when it comes to baking, sugar is considered a wet ingredient. This is because it is a liquifier, not a stabilizer like flour. And just to really fuck with your head, eggs thought not dry, are considered a stabilizer because they give food structural stability. Which is why the more sugar you add into something, the gooier/softer it will be (like the famous American cookie texture) and also why successful gluten free baking (usually high in sugars) that doesn’t have the textural experience of eating mushy sweet drywall, requires more eggs than your usual cookie mix in order to retain shape/moisture. themoreyouknow.jpg

Anyway, set your wet mixture to one side, then in another bowl sift together your dry ingredients. If you don’t have a sifter throw your dry ingredients together and give them a whisk round to make sure they are thoroughly blended. Add about half your dry mix to the wet until you get a gooey mix, add in your 1 cup of chocolate chips, then add in the rest of your dry mix until well combined. It should be sticky but not runny.

Next take your prepped baking sheets, and drop 10ish tablespoons of the batter onto each one and bake for 10-12 minutes or until cookies are lightly browned and firm at the center. Then remove from oven, allow to sit on the hot tray for another 2 mins, then allow them to cool on a wire wrack. Allow to cool mostly the whole way before serving. 

These will keep well for up to about 3-4 days in an airtight concealer, and can be frozen for up to a month. (longer if you don’t use whole wheat flour, which goes rancid quicker than all purpose white flour). You can also freeze the raw mix ready for throwing in the oven, for up to about a month, then add on 1-2 mins for bake time to make sure they are cooked the whole way through 

And that’s how to make a kosher cookies for friends who keep kosher. Good luck with your baking friend, and please tag me and let me know how it goes! :)

[jeonwhipped]

The Arousing Nature of Shampoo Bottles

Pairing: Jihae (OC) & Jeongguk

Genre: slight smut, CRACK

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Jihae now remembers why she never listens to Jeongguk.

A/N: HELLO!! After so many broken promises of “I swear I’ll get it done today!” IT’S DONE!

A/N 2: this is actually a repost bc i was on tumblr mobile like 2 minutes ago and it turns out the “delete” button is dangerously close to where my thumb scrolls WHOOPS

Prompt: “Omg u should write Crack where u slip while having shower sex ahhaha”

They were known as the Notorious Fuckers around the friend group, meaning that they were pretty nondiscriminatory when it came to exactly where to have sex. The bed was almost solely for sleeping, so they utilized every other space in their apartment to do the fucking do. This is mostly thanks to Jeongguk’s ridiculous sex drive and his openness to trying new things, and the only reason why Jihae goes along with him is because he’s a great fuck, and always ensures she finishes, too. They also have incredulous conversations during their time together: sometimes Jihae will tell her girlfriends about a wonderful epiphany she had the other day, and when they ask, “what brought this on?” she shamelessly admits riding Jeongguk’s dick, talking about every kind of philosophy there was.

When I say “nondiscriminatory,” I mean, like, actually everywhere. Against walls, on the floor, the kitchen counter (this one was Jihae’s personal favorite), pressed against the glass sliding door overlooking the city, in public, for fuck’s sake …. You get the idea.

But there was also one other place they never tainted.

The shower.

Now, there’s a reason for this, too. In addition to all the things that could go wrong in the shower, Jihae thought of it as a sanctuary - the same idea as a bed. It’s good to have at least one place in the house that’s untarnished, right?

But you’re about to witness one of the few times Jihae complies to his wishes and regrets her decision immensely.

Surprisingly, their schedules are aligned enough where they both leave at the same time in the morning (around 7am), and neither of them have to wait too long before the other returns in the evening, too. And what perfect way to save a few bucks on their water bill than to shower together in the morning?

Today was no different. After her alarm rudely disrupts her deep sleep, Jihae dragged herself and an equally groggy Jeongguk into the shower, where she turned the water temperature to scalding and sluggishly stripped naked, Jeongguk following suit. She then shuffles over to the sink, where she blindly fumbles for their toothbrushes (how she’s able to navigate the house with her myopia amazes her boyfriend) and shoves hers own into her mouth after she places a hefty amount of minty toothpaste.

“What did you dream about?” she asks, leaning against the glass wall of the shower. Condensation is slowly working inside the enclosure.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eye. “That we all suspected Taehyungie was an alien trying to sabotage Earth. Like a spy. But when we went to perform some tests on him, it turned out that he was human. You think that means anything?”

She’s genuinely surprised at hearing this. “People aren’t always what they seem?”

“Or that Taehyung is hiding something,” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows. Noticing the growing humidity in the room, he opens the glass door and gestures her in. “Maybe he’s a bigger skank than the both of us combined.”

“Whaaaat, that’s practically impossible.” After he steps in with her, she swings the glass door shut. They both stand under the water for a few moments, continuing to brush their teeth. “Okay, maybe not impossible,” she admits, turning to face him again. “It could explain why he gets lost when you guys are traveling together. Or why he suddenly leaves the room sometimes.” She spits down the drain. “He comes back looking disheveled every once in awhile, no?”

“Are you suggesting he has secret hoes lurking in every corner of every building?”  He laughs, mimicking Jihae to rid himself of the the built up saliva. He takes their toothbrushes and deposits them in the cup standing on the rack.

“Maybe! You never know,” she shrugs, suddenly reaching out to twist his nipple, earning a squeak from the male. “He’s probably the raunchiest of us all.”

“Topping us? No way. He probably has hoes, male and female, lined out his door. But in terms of raunchiness?” He returns her jab two-fold, sharply twisting her own breasts, one in each hand. “He’s no comparison to us. Which reminds me, actually.”

She slaps his hands away. “What.”

“Why haven’t we had sex in here before?” he asks nonchalantly, grabbing a shampoo bottle and squeezing the gel onto his hand. “Come ‘ere a sec.” Jihae takes a step closer to him so he can lather shampoo in her hair for her. “Think about it -”

“Because you’re getting a hard-on from the shampoo bottles, right? I know, Jeon. They’re enticing. But you must exercise self restraint.” Right as he opens his mouth to retort, she immediately cuts him off. “Look, I just think it’s nice to have one spot in the apartment where I haven’t sucked you off. Alright?”

He lathers the soap in her hair so much that it goes almost stiff molding her hair into silly shapes. “Then I’ll just eat you out until you come, like, thrice,” he giggles. Rising his hands from the soap, he grabs her apricot facial scrub from the soap stand.

“I think you missed my point.”

“Listen, noona. There’s many perks to shower sex. Close your eyes, please.” She obeys once he spreads the cleanser on her face. “One: it’d wake us up in the morning. You like being groggy in the morning, or what?”

Jihae’s sass is still sharp, even if his hands are all over her face and she can’t see anything. “I don’t like being crippled in the morning, thank you very much.”

Rolling his eyes, he gently guides her body into the water stream to rinse of her face first, then her hair. “You talk as if we’re gonna slip or something. Have some faith in me, will ya?” He uses his hands to wipe off the excess microbeads from her face. “Two: we’re already naked. Sure, it’d add probably another 20 minutes to our routine, but you’ve gotta admit, it’s pretty convenient. Turn, please.” She spins away, waiting for him to smooth conditioner through her long strands of hair. “And three: you always have a good time when you’re with me. What’ll be from all the other times?” He squeezes the conditioner onto his hand. “How about we try it out today?”

She almost gives herself whiplash turning her head around to glare at him skeptically. “Now?!”

Putting his fists to his face, he gives her the best aegyo he can without making her vomit, pouting his lips in the process. His eyes must have looked like a puppy’s, honestly. If this were an anime, he’d be gushing two-dimensional flowers right about now. “Please.”

Jihae narrows her eyes into slits, obliging. “Fine. Only if you promise me that if I don’t like it, then we must have table sex. Also if you stop your stupid rendition of moe.” She tosses one of her pinkies over her shoulder. “Deal?”

But even as he laces his pinkie with hers, murmurs “deal” near her ear, and plants a kiss just below her ear lobe, Jihae isn’t 100% convinced that this could end well. There’s so many things that could go wrong….but … fuck it, right? She trusts Jeongguk enough. Nothing terribly embarrassing happened during all the other times they had sex (well, excluding that time when they were getting frisky in their parked car, and Jihae accidentally leaned too far back and sat on the fucking horn for a few seconds, probably disturbing the entire complex), so, honestly, what could go wrong? Actually, don’t answer that.

“Hang on, Jeon,” she says, halting his trail of kisses by spinning around to face him fully again. “Fuck the foreplay this time.” Without warning, she wraps her hands around his neck, hops up, and folds her thighs over his waist. He barely has enough time to place his hand on her butt for support, and in surprise, walks forward until the cool tile is flush with her back, before she ground her groin against his.

“Oh my god, how long have you been hard!” Before he opens his mouth to respond, she jokes, “those damn shampoo bottles, isn't it.”

“Ugh, noona,” he complains, taking one hand off her bum to line his dick up with her entrance. “Keep talking and I’ll get soft again.”

She fucking cackles at this. “You were hard ever since you woke up. Now hurry u- ah -”

To put it simply, the stretch is a bit much. Maybe she shouldn’t have fucked the foreplay, honestly. Water wasn’t a great lubricant, either. But she thought she could do it - with how often they have sex? Like, Jeongguk should have been able to sheathe himself in her with no problem. AND had room to spare.

But she overestimated her capabilities, much to her dismay. As soon as he pushes forward just a centimeter, the friction became unbearable, and she holds flings her hands out to brace against his massive shoulders. “S-sorry. I - it hurts. I miscalculated. Bad judgement. I’m sorry. I should have just -”

“Let me eat you out, right?” he finishes, then smiles a shit-eating grin. “It’s not too late -”

“No, no,” she cuts off. “Too much extra work and positioning. Can you - can you just talk dirty to me or something? Maybe the juices will start flowin’.”

“Of course.” He clears his throat and looks her dead in the eye with a seriously sultry expression. “With a great dick comes great responsibility.”

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

“Did you just use a pick-up line on me?”

His incredulous look is incredulous. “What! You said -”

“I know what I said. But - god. Never mind!” she whines. “Put me down. You’re no help! I’ll just finish by myself.”

“What!” He’s so surprised that he accidentally leans forward entering Jihae even further. It feels like she’s being ripping in two, it hurts so much. Although he immediately apologizes when he sees her wince, he’s still disgruntled by how their sexy time turned out. “But I always let you finish, Jihae-noona!” He pouts a very convincing pout. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t want to touch your dick right now. Slip out, damn you.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his wet hair but doesn’t budge, even as Jihae squirms in every which way. “What are you even going to get off to?! I’m right here, for fuck’s sake!”

“You want honesty?” She taunts, stilling. “I could come right here and right now with just the thought of Park Jimin, with his newest dance routine in a blindfold -” For emphasis, she clenched around the few centimeters inside of her, making Jeongguk splutter. “And his recently dyed black hair -” she closes her eyes and scrunches her face like she’s about to cry. “True art,” she weeps, a few tears escaping from the corner of her eyes.

“Oh my god, you’re actually crying. Over a boy who doesn’t even know you exist! I’m out.”

But Jeongguk forgot that the only thing keeping Jihae suspended was himself, and the wall behind her. So when he removes his hands from her butt and steps back completely (and slipping out of her, too), it takes all but half a second for . . .

“FUCKING HELL!” she yelps as she crashes ass first onto the wet porcelain floor with nothing to break the impact.

And Jeongguk’s actually like struck with how irresponsible he is. You had ONE job, kiddo, but look what you did.

Sadly, though, the only person Jihae has to be angry at is herself. Whatever possessed her to actually listen to Jeon Jeongguk has only made the most plausible outcome a reality. What was she expecting? Something romantic and hot?

Thank the fucking lord he has enough tact to shut the water off, sweep her up bridal style from the ground, kick the shower door open, and seat her on the sink. After retrieving her towel and gently drying her and himself off, he hauls her over his shoulder, stalks over to the bedroom, and lays her down easily, supporting her head as it meets the pillow.

“I’ll call the school today,” he murmurs, tucking the blankets over her naked body.  “Tell them that you -”

“Fractured my dignity?”

He smiles apologetically down at her. “I’m sorry, Noona. I’m sorry for dropping you.” Kneeling on the floor, he digs under the covers until he finds one of her hands with both of his, squeezing it reassuringly. After leaning down and kissing the lump created by their intertwined hands, he asks, “How can I make it up to you?”

Her response is immediate. “Table sex after I’m able to walk. I think I genuinely busted my ass, Jeon.” She roll to the other side of the bed to make room for him, wincing all the while. “And if we go the fuck back to sleep, please.”

Without hesitation, he flings the covers up and quickly slips under them, arms wrapping around her frame and pulling her back to his chest. After placing a delicate peck on her temple, he mutters, “I just wish you slipped on my dick instead -”

Too worn out to even glare at the male, Jihae opts to ignore the remark and slowly closes her eyes instead. “That’s the last time I’m listening to you and your goddamn ideas.”

Jeongguk’s nose crashes into the nape of her neck and nuzzles it. “Even if I suggest table sex?”

After a beat of silence, she sighs, “You are so lucky you’re a good fuck,” but opted out of adding on to her sentence, “excluding the scene we had just four minutes ago.”

a/n: thank u for taking time to read this mess lmao. have a gr8 day lovelies