#there's a smoked salt that I'm excited to use

[pennyellee]

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ELIXIR pairings: mafia hoseok x female reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s, arranged marriage, childhood friends to lovers word count: 22K/tba release date: 02.18.25 beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: "And I won't be satisfied till we're taking those vows" prompt 2: you were apparently promised to the heir of Jung's criminal empire since birth, not that you ever took that ongoing inside joke seriously. You grew up alongside the said man, yet your mind is conflicted about upholding your part and saying I do until one drunken night reveals a lot more than you'd like.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | explicit language, hurt men's ego, mild yandere behaviour (warnings were reduced to avoid spoilers)

author's note: ionoiafhoianfoaif, yalllll, I was writing this like foreveeeeerrrrr. So this is where it all basically started in my head when I created the retelling of what happened around the year 1996. Still, somehow Champagne Confetti and Anubis got out first, mainly because I will continue them, but this is one shot exclusively (I'm open to filler tho). Why? The story of Princess and Hoseok never dies throughout both the fics that are already out and those that will only come. Mainly with Anubis' chapters, you'll get to see them. I'm just as nervous to put this out as I am with every fic but very excited to throw Elixir in the world. I'm simultaneously working on my MA diploma thesis so bear with me when I'm radio silent, but I love you all! I appreciate you reading my stuff my good little fairies ♥ I'll see ya at Hobi's birthday! ♥ Enjoy!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, bloodshed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, and old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

main masterlist 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑

Winter 1995 You spotted Hoseok seated at the table, a serene picture of composure, his fingers curled around a steaming cup of coffee he enjoys in the mornings.

He looked up at your approach, his eyes locking onto yours. There was no trace of anger on his face, no sharp edge to his expression. If anything, he seemed calm, almost disarming.

"Hobi—" you started before he quickly interrupted you.

"Sit down," he said a bit more firmer than he'd want to, gesturing to the seat across from him.

You hesitated for a moment before lowering yourself into the chair, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. A plate of food sat before you, untouched. Your stomach churned, but the thought of eating felt impossible.

"Are you?—"

"I'm not mad, no," he cut you off gently, surprising you, as if he knew what you were suggesting before you even managed to let those words roll on your tongue.

"So?—" you echoed hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't know what to expect now. Maybe it would be better if he'd be mad and you knew that you have to make it better just like it used to be, instead he is not showing any kind of position in this situation and that was making you uneasy beyond comparison.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.

"You're still here. That's what matters to me for now." He began, his tone measured. For now. Hoseok was always skilled at this—at saying something that sounded kind but felt like a command.

"I panicked," you admitted softly, the honesty slipping out before you could stop it.

"I know, baby, you chose wrong—" he replied, his gaze unwavering.

"—twice," he added fuel to the fire, salt to the wound. But you knew why. He wanted you to submit to him, and he needed to work overtime to do so.

"You need to show me you're willing to make this right, love," you swallowed hard, the tightness in your throat making it nearly impossible to respond. His aura and magnitude of how he could move you however he liked now was overwhelming. You cannot run away, not when he dragged you back to this place instead of his brownstone at 57th street. You're not only under his surveillance here, but the Kkangpae and the rest of the family.

“What’s it gonna be? Cuz’ I can’t fucking pretend anymore–” 

His gaze dropped to the table for a moment before he reached into his pocket. You stiffened instinctively, already guessing what he was about to do. Sure enough, his hand emerged clutching the familiar black velvet box. The sight of it made your chest tighten.

"Hoseok," you said softly, your voice trembling with unease. "Please—"

"I don't think I will be so forgiving if you'll choose wrong for a third time, Princess." He ignored your plea, opening the box to reveal the ring again. The one you'd angrily thrown at him that fateful night when he tried to force it down your finger after you explicitly said no to him.

The one that symbolised everything you were not ready to accept, but you had to. It glimmered in the soft light of the room, deceptively beautiful.

"I'm done asking," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. Your breath hitched, but before you could speak, Hoseok reached across the table and took your hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding, yet the weight of his action was suffocating.

You tried to pull your hand back, but his grip tightened—not painfully, but enough to make it clear you weren't going anywhere. With deliberate precision, he slid the emerald ring onto your finger.

"There," he said, his voice softening just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You stared at the emerald ring, your mind racing. It looked almost serene on your finger, as if it had always belonged there. Hoseok sat back, satisfied, his lips curling into a faint smile.

Before you could respond, the soft thuds of certain leather shoes announced another arrival.

"Joon-ah!" Hoseok greeted, leaning back in his chair. "I assume there's news?"

Namjoon glanced at you briefly, then back to Hoseok. "Yes. We've made progress with the Anubis situation. The distilleries have been secured, but the reports of interference need attention."

"Anubis situation?" You echoed Namjoon's words. Hoseok's smile didn't falter, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanour. His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought he might dismiss your question. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers interlacing.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a quiet finality that suggested the topic was closed.

Namjoon, however, wasn't as careful with his expression. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, a crack in the façade of calm efficiency he usually wore. It was gone as quickly as it came, but you caught it, and it only fuelled your curiosity.

"Anubis is my responsibility, Hoseok, you cannot—" you pressed, your tone sharper now. You'd learned long ago that brushing things under the rug only meant tripping over them later.

"Not anymore."

Hoseok's words cut through the room with an authority that left no room for argument. He leaned back in his chair, exuding an air of complete control, his eyes locked on yours with a quiet intensity.

"What?!" You breathed out rather loudly now.

"Not anymore," he repeated, slower this time as if daring you to challenge him. And challenge him you did.

"Hoseok," you tried again, your voice quieter this time, laced with both frustration and fear. "This isn't—"

"I gotta punish you somehow, Princess," his one was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind his words was anything but. Your stomach churned as his lips curved into a faint, disarming smile—a predator's smile hidden beneath a veil of warmth.

"Punish me?" you repeated, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it. "Exactly for what you gotta punish me, Hoseok?

"For running," he said, the amusement in his voice doing little to soften the hurt he felt inside. "For throwing the ring. For abandoning me this morning after we made love last night—"

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with a raised hand. "Don't misunderstand me, Princess. I'm not angry. But actions have consequences."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the rhythm chaotic and uneven. His calm demeanour made it worse. It took one wide-eyed glance for Namjoon to excuse himself and quickly retreat to Kkangpae's office to leave you two alone.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind Namjoon seemed louder in the heavy silence that followed. Your eyes darted to it, half-hoping for an interruption, but it was futile. Hoseok's gaze was fixed on you, unrelenting and unreadable, trapping you in this moment.

"Hoseok," you began, your voice trembling. "This isn't fair. You can't just—"

"I can," he interrupted his tone steady but brooking no argument. "And I will. You know I don't take betrayal lightly."

"Betrayal?" you repeated, the word stinging as it left your lips. "Is that what you think this is? Hoseok, I—"

"You ran," he said simply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. His fingers interlocked, creating a casual posture that only heightened your unease. "You left me, you threw the ring at me, you abandoned what we're building. Call it whatever you want, Princess, but to me? That's betrayal."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "I needed time," you whispered. "Time to think, to—"

No, you needed Mark. But you also needed your best friend.

"Think?" Hoseok's laughter was soft, almost amused, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What is there to think about? You're mine. You've always been mine. And this?" He gestured to the ring now firmly on your finger. "This makes it only official."

"You can't force me to—" you said, the defiance in your voice surprising even you. This was never a discourse you or Hobi ever had. Everything was thought to be just platonic. Not for him.

"To what?" he asked, cutting you off again. His tone was low, dangerously calm. "To wear a ring? To stay by my side? To stop running every time things don't go the way you want?"

You flinched, the truth in his words hitting too close to home. Hoseok sighed, his expression softening just enough to make your heart ache. You were running each time you did not feel like the family was doing you justice. And each time it was Hoseok who came to talk sense into you. But this is different. You are not kids anymore, or teenagers. This is serious. Hoseok is serious this time.

"You know what Anubis means to me—"

"And you still thought it was something you could just walk away from?"

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as the urge to argue warred with the fear.

"I didn't walk away from Anubis," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed space, Hoseok."

"You said you were tired, love."

"You misunderstood—" Hoseok shook his head slowly, cutting you off once again, his gaze hardening.

"I never wanted it to come to this," Hoseok said, his voice softening as he reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. "But you forced my hand, Princess. And now, you don't get to run anymore. Not from me. Not from us."

"But Anubis—"

"It's still yours. But until you learn your place, Namjoon will suffice."

You bit your lip, caught between the suffocating desire to fight back but all you could do is shut your mouth and obey, telling yourself that this is only temporary.

He was, indeed, not mad.

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟎𝟐.𝟏𝟖.𝟐𝟓

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story is up for reading, you can write in the comments and I'll create a tag list!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

One of my best friends sent me a bunch of fancy flaked sea salts that I got in the mail today. I'm making another round of foccacia fridge dough, so that I can cook it sprinkled with something imbued with love.

[hioriri]

-making tanghulu-

featured character ☆ itoshi rin

tag(s): fluff! ☆

divider @cafekitsune

        "Rinnieeee!!" you barge into Rin's room like a hyper ball of energy, whilst he's in the middle of changing clothes. The man looked so shocked. Too shocked. It felt like he could cry on the spot since this happened far too often. "...Y/n. How many times do I have to tell you to knock on the door before coming in." he says in a serious tone. "Sorryyy." you apologize, with a big smile on your face, perhaps a little too excited to tell him about what you want to do. "And I swear I'm not going to ask you if you would still love me if I was a worm." Rin had a confused expression on his face. "Okay...?" "I wanted to ask if we could make tanghulu!"  Alright. That's enough. Now he's scared. The last time you two tried to make tanghulu, the smoke alarm went off, the sugar burned and sticked onto the pan. Rin tried to get rid of the burnt and dried sugar off the silver pan, but it wouldn't work unfortunately. So, he had to throw the pan away. "..." "Can we? Pretty please?" "Y/n, the last time we made tanghulu the smoke alarm went off, the sugar got burnt and it sticked onto the pan, the neighbors complained about how loud we were even though that was the smoke alarm." "Oh... Right..." you flashbacked to the incident that happened last month or so.

"And, before we started, you accidentally put salt instead of sugar in the pan." Rin had mentioned another mistake that you made, making you slightly flustered. "We don't talk about that..." Rin sighed. "We can make tanghulu, but just make sure to use a video and follow the measurements. Also, please don't eyeball it. And don't burn the sugar again." "Okay!" you reply in a cheerful tone. Rin smiled, he's happy whenever you're happy. You're basically his source of joy. 

an extremely short drabble. also, i've never made tanghulu before but my friend told me she somehow burnt the sugar even though she followed precise measurements and videos so i'm scared lmao

-fuyuko

©fuyukohasnocreativity do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated!

[jasmineoolongtea]

coffee jelly and parfait ― chapter 1: caramel pudding

pairing: bodyguard!toji x baker!reader (f), toji is 38, reader is 22

summary: after working towards and succeding in accomplishing your lifelong dream working for one of the most famous bakeries in tokyo, you decide to go out for a night of celebratory drinking. however, the next morning, you wake up and find out that you're now married to a total stranger and an older one at that! but, turns out, this accidental marriage of yours might be more useful than you think.

contents: a sesame salt and pudding!au, age gap relationship (16 years - everyone is completely legal here!!!), marriage of convenience/accidental marriage, fluff, angst, slice of life, nicknames (toji is referred to as ossan by reader which is an informal way of referring to a middle-aged man in Japanese and this is taken directly from the manga inspo behind this)

warnings: drinking/alcohol, smoking (from toji)

word count: 3.9k words (much beefer than i was expecting ngl)

extras:

⤷ mood board/pinterest board

a/n: ahhh i'm so excited to finally be able to work on this series since it's been workshopping in the back of my mind for a while shdhahwj hope you guys enjoy this and hope you have an amazing day/night !!! sorry that this chapter is so exposition-heavy rip djasd, i promise later chapters will get better. as always, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <333

It's normal for weird things to happen after a night of heavy drinking, right?

You've heard all sorts of stories from your friends and family about the strange antics drunk people get up to once they get a certain amount of liquor running through their veins. It can range from small silly things like trying out a new skill in public due to a sudden burst of newfound confidence to more extreme ones like running away from an angry mob of people that you've accidentally incited somehow. Despite the difference in their severity, the common thread here remains: all are mostly harmless things and nothing that is possibly life-changing.

Much to your dismay, however, you seem to be the outlier in all those cases. Actually, it appears to be that you've managed to outdo almost everyone this time as this one definitely has to take the cake right here or whatever award they give out for things like this.

This morning, as you wake up and open your bedroom door, you suddenly find yourself face to face with a complete stranger, who very much appears to be an older guy, standing right outside in your apartment.

And to top off this already weird trajectory of events, as if things could not possibly get even stranger, it also turns out that you've apparently married said stranger last night.

...What!?!

-

To say that your memory of last night is hazy would be a massive understatement in all senses of the word. But what you do remember clearly is the reason why you went drinking in the first place, which was to congratulate yourself for finally achieving your lifelong dream up to this point.

After years of blood, sweat and tears spent at the Tsuji Culinary School where you fought with tooth, fist and nails against hundreds of other culinary hopefuls to win the highly coveted and only place available for the exchange programme to Le Cordon Bleu institute in France, your suffering was not all for nought as on your glorious return back to Japan, you've managed to land your dream job of working at one of Tokyo's most famous bakeries, Pierre Hermé.

If that was not a perfect reason to celebrate and drink the night away completely carefree then you don't know what was.

However, there was one tiny little snag in your plans for a joyous night out. The moment that you returned home to give your roommate the good news, still trying to come down from the high of hearing the good news, it seemed that she apparently also had a similar genius idea of her own and decided to inform you that she was leaving you to search for somewhere else to live closer to her job.

For most people, that wouldn't be a problem as they could just be able to leisurely search for a new roommate at their own pace. But for you, this was not the case as you were facing a different set of circumstances. For you, your move to Tokyo was entirely conditional on the fact that would stay with someone and this was explicitly set and outlined by your dad. Now roommate-less, you suddenly had a ticking expiry date placed on all your ambitions that you had barely scratched the surface of by this point.

This was probably the worst case of whiplash you've ever had, going from an extreme high to an extreme low all in the span of less than 10 minutes. Unfortunately, it seemed that the odds were very much not in your favour. But how could you let that waver your resolve? If you had learned anything from your years of existing is that you weren't going to give up and relent that easily.

So, in actuality, it was somewhat a lie that you were only out drinking for one reason. In reality, it was for two reasons; one, to congratulate yourself on achieving your dreams and two, to try and forget your newfound problem through the power of alcohol. And this was how you found yourself complaining to a bunch of strangers at a local izakaya, surrounded by several empty pints of beer.

A loud drunken sob echoes through the small confines of the bar which is accompanied by the thud of an empty glass cup slamming against the wooden countertop of the bar.

"It isn't fair at all! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here? I've basically given up everything for this and now it's going to all disappear?" You bemoan out loud to whoever's around you, signalling to the barkeep to fill up another pint for you as you're clearly intent on accomplishing your plan of drinking away your problems.

There's a lady and her boyfriend, whose face you can't really remember or recall in any particular detail, sitting next to you on your right trying to comfort you with sympathetic coos and awkward back pats. While they're trying their best to comfort you, or as best as drunk people can, their efforts are seemingly in vain as you can only sigh in defeat at your current predicament.

Taking another swig of the freshly poured pint, you continue on your rant. "And you know, my dad is only letting me stay in Tokyo if I either have a roommate or if I'm married even if I'm happy here as is!"

The lady nods in an empathetic manner as if to say she's gone through the same thing as well, commenting, "My dad's the same way as well, he's kinda old-fashioned when it comes to stuff like this and it's awful."

"If only alcohol could cure problems like this," You muse. "My roommate and I used to come here all the time and everyone we met here is always so nice."

At your praise of the other bar patrons, there's a murmur of agreement and cheers from all around. The frothy foam of your drink has bubbled down by now but as you stare into the half-drunk glass, you're suddenly hit with an outrageous idea. "Hey, what if I get married to one of you guys tonight, right here right now?"

Boisterous laughter immediately erupts at your words. One dishevelled salary man from the other side of the bar jokingly remarks, "If you do that, you won't even be wanted back home!"

However, once the laughter dies down there's a genuine pause from everyone, including yourself, as if you all were genuinely considering carrying out this ridiculous and definitely impractical idea. Following the brief silence, the other patrons turn to their neighbours and begin to talk and discuss amongst themselves, their heads swivelling left and right in what seems to be an attempt to size up and judge the men at the bar as potential candidates.

"I'm already married to a wife I love dearly so I'm going to have to turn down that offer." Announces a middle-aged man from opposite you, with other similar comments and statements soon chiming in to eliminate themselves from the running based on a variety of different reasons.

Before the lady's boyfriend can even open his mouth to volunteer himself, she sends a withering look and an accusatory finger his way as she warns him, "Don't even think about it." At her stern warning, he quickly sinks back down into his seat.

An elderly man sighs wistfully to himself. "Ha, maybe if I was 20 years younger..." He then turns to his side, nudging the guy next to him with his elbow to get his attention before asking him. "Hey, what about you?"

You can't really see the other man's face since he's pretty much on the other side of the long table and your vision might have been slightly hazy on account of all the alcohol flowing through your system at this point, though you hear his gruff voice ring out as he shrugs his built shoulders and responds, "Me? 'M single I guess."

From all the other voices you've heard tonight, you don't recognise his, guessing that he might have been relatively silent throughout most of the conversation. Although you can't see much of him, you notice even sitting down, he's about two heads taller than those around him and his broad shoulders and well-built physique are accentuated by the tight-fitting black shirt he's wearing. God, it looks like he's basically vacuumed and sealed into that thing as the fabric shifts with every flex of his muscles.

Maybe it's the dim lighting of the izakaya but you're sure you catch a brilliant flash of green from across the table looking you up and down with vague curiosity and interest. You think to yourself, he doesn't look half bad.

Suddenly filled with a renewed sense of energy, or rather you're getting to the point on your drunkness scale where you feel comfortable enough to throw logic out of the window, you leap up from your seat and point at the man as you shout at the top of your lungs,

"Alright, you in the black shirt! Let's get married!"

After hearing your declaration, the lady starts to furiously flip the magazine in front of her until it lands on a certain page before picking it up and showing it to the others. "Hey, look! This magazine I bought has a marriage registration form at the back."

"What an amazing coincidence." Someone mutters from beside you with a few other voices soon relaying their own hums of agreement.

"We can all be witnesses! Come on and sign it!"

Chants of "Sign it." start to fill up the bar as the other patrons begin to cheer you two on like a crowd at a live stadium sports match from the sidelines of their seats. The moment your pen clatters against the floor, the crowd bursts out into celebratory shouts and cheers, with that being the extent of your memories of last night with whatever after it fading into black.

-

Now back in the present, you feel your face start to burn with a renewed sense of embarrassment as memories and small recollections of last night start to flood your mind. Any chance of even possibly denying the events of last night goes out the window as turns out, your drunk self decided that it was the perfect opportunity to apparently take a commemorative photo of the event with the marriage license at the dead of centre of it, your names unmistakably written on there in bold.

As you examine the form, still slightly gobsmacked, you spot his name next to yours. Fushiguro Toji, huh? You think quietly to yourself, his name sounds kind of nice. But before you can find yourself getting lost in thought, a husky voice snaps you back into reality.

"Now, do'ya remember?" The man, or Toji as that's what appears to be his name, quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you ended up in my apartment." Eyeing him up and down, you pause for a second as you take in your equally dishevelled appearances, something suddenly clicking in your head as your overactive mind begins to draw its own conclusions about what happened after the events of the izakaya. "Oh no. Di-did we..?" You gesture frantically at the two of you, hoping that he understands what you're implying with your question.

Toji shakes his head, a slightly irritated or perhaps even amused sigh leaving his lips, you're not sure. "No. Yer insisted that you should take me home since I mentioned that I didn't really have a place to stay for the night."

A sigh of relief escapes you.

You take this time to now fully examine him since you didn't get much of a chance last night, or rather you had forgotten all about it. There's an unquestionably intimidating aura about him with his shaggy black hair, incredibly muscular physique and piercing emerald green eyes that look like they could kill a man where he stood with a single stare. His all-black clothing and what appears to be a vertical scar situated on the right corner of his lips do him no favours to make him look less like a gangster straight out of an action movie.

Although there aren't the typical tell-tale signs of ageing on him like obvious wrinkles or a head of grey hairs, there's a faint imprint of more permanent creases starting to form in the middle of his brows and if you look closely enough, you might even notice some small sprinkles of white starting to pop up amidst the rest of his raven locks. This all points to the fact that he's definitely older than you but you're unsure by how much from your initial assessment of him, probably at least ten years older than give or take.

Though, besides this outright menacing factor to him, you can't help but admit that he's also strikingly handsome in a rugged way. You realise that you might have been caught staring at him for too long when he clears his throat and gives you a pointed glance with those sharp green eyes. Just having his gaze on you is enough to send a tingling sensation down your spine.

Deciding to brush it off, he huffs to himself as he leans his weight against the white walls of your apartment. "It's probably too late to cancel it since we already signed and submitted it last night so the only option we have now is to divorce."

He fishes around in the pockets of his pants and produces an already half-empty and slightly crumpled cigarette box. Before taking one out, he turns towards you and silently asks for your permission with a tilt of his head. You nod at him, expecting him to crank open one of your windows to smoke but instead, he walks towards your kitchen and turns on your kitchen hood. Curiously, you follow behind him and see him use a dingy lighter to light up the cigarette, the pale glow of the flame illuminating the harsh lines of his features, as he takes a deep puff of it before blowing the smoke up the hood.

So he's a kitchen smoker, huh? Obviously, you want to know how he's developed this peculiar habit but you decide to bite your tongue for now as there are more pressing issues on hand such as the undeniable elephant in the room.

There's a brief moment of silence before Toji starts speaking again. "Y'know, I kinda feel bad for last night 'cause you're going to be a divorcee so young."

"Hey! I'm not that young you know, Ossan!" You protest in return, crossing your arms over your chest in a slightly childish display of annoyance. That earns you what sounds like a breathy laugh from him as one corner of his lips tilts upwards in a somewhat crooked manner.

"Oh yeah? Then how old are ya?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice, almost as if he's slightly amused by your antics.

You huff. "22. What about you?"

"You really can't remember much from last night huh? I'm 38." If he's 38 then that means there's a 16-year age difference between you two. Not the worst-case scenario that could happen when it comes to marrying a complete stranger by accident, you think to yourself.

It seems that your apparent lack of reaction, only giving out a half-hearted hmm, to finding out his age is surprising to him. If he was going to be honest, he wasn't ruling out that you might have started bolting out of your apartment at the mention of it and in that case, he wouldn't blame you.

You state, "Besides, you're not the only one to blame here. It's on me as well since we both signed it. So don't feel bad. We'll get it taken care of as soon as possible." You send a reassuring smile his way, waving off his concerns with an easy-going wave of your wrist. For some reason, he feels like he might even believe your assurance for a second.

Much to your public embarrassment your stomach starts to grumble loudly with what some might say is impeccable comedic timing. "Or well, as soon as I get some food." You comment bashfully, your previously carefree attitude fading away relatively quickly as a new priority has emerged.

As you make the move towards your fridge, you look over at him from your shoulder as you ask, "Oh right. Do you want something as well? I don't really cook meals that often so all I have in my kitchen is basically just baking ingredients."

Toji does a quick look around the kitchen, examining the clear state of mess and disarray that it's in and scoffs offhandedly to himself. "Didn't realise you could call this mess a kitchen."

"In my defence, my roommate used to do all the cooking and cleaning whilst I mainly covered the bills." You point back at him, a wooden spoon in hand as you wave at him warningly.

"What happened to them then?"

"Oh, you know, suddenly deciding to move closer to work even though your roommate has already paid the lease for the year for two people and stuff like that." There's an edge of annoyance to your tone, clearly, you're still annoyed at your roommate for putting you in this predicament, but Toji decides not to comment on it.

After watching you struggle to turn on your gas stove for what seems to be like the tenth time in the span of 2 minutes, a loud sigh of exasperation escapes him as he places his calloused hand on top of yours. stopping you in your tracks. "Come on, just let me do it." He states. As he moves closer to the kitchen counter, his body is positioned so close to your left side that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

He starts to busy himself with various ingredients as it seems that he's now begrudgingly taken over cooking duties from you, no protests from your side by the way. Before you go to take your seat at the kitchen table, you hear him mumble under his breath. "Can't believe you have the time to go out and get drunk and not even to clean your place."

"Hey." You turn around to face him once again, your voice stern. "You don't know me, alright? I wanna stay in Tokyo because I just got my dream job and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon."

"...Yer job? What d'you do?"

"I'm a baker. Have you ever heard of the bakery, Pierre Hermé?"

He pauses, bringing a finger up to his chin as if deep in thought. "Think 've walked past it a few times. Why?"

There's a renewed sense of excitement to you, passion very much evident in both your words and expression as you launch into an animated spiel at his question. "It's one of the top bakeries in Tokyo and I've spent my whole life working towards being able to get a job there." You look out at the window, quietly contemplating and contrasting the crowded and bustling streets and skyline of Tokyo with the sleepy and relatively isolated atmosphere of your hometown.

"Back in my home town, there isn't really much opportunity to work somewhere like this, especially since it's a foreign bakery specialising in French pastries so this is basically my only chance to fulfil my dreams." You can't help but let a wistful sigh leave your lips, thinking about how hard you've fought to get to this point now. Unbeknownst to you, Toji suddenly sits up straighter, his back pressed against the cool ceramic countertops as he stares at you, seemingly studying you in a new light after your words. Before you can realise it though, he quickly adverts his gaze elsewhere, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"What about you?" You ask him, a sense of interest clearly present in your voice. For someone like him, you don't even know where to really begin when it comes to guessing what a guy like him could do for a living as it could range from semi-realistic to wildly fantastical like straight out of a TV show.

"...I'm a bodyguard for hire." Compared to you though, his tone is devoid of the same energy and passion present in yours with him even pausing slightly before answering, as if he was hesitant to reveal this aspect about himself.

"Wow, that's cool." There's a small sense of awe at his response. Being a bodyguard would definitely explain that muscular physique of his, you remark quietly to yourself.

A tsk sound escapes him at your comment, shrugging it off with his shoulders as he turns to the side. "All I care is that it pays well. Nothin' more."

You deflate a little at his words. To you, he sounds more begrudging than anything and you think that there's probably a story behind that as well, like many other things about him like that lip scar of his, but you choose to avoid prodding him even further as well in his defence, you've technically just met each other last night. All of a sudden, you're hit with an idea, a crazy idea just like last night, but this time now sober, and it might just be crazy enough to work or you two might just be desperate enough to make it work. You clear your throat before you call out to him.

"Hey, Ossan." Toji looks back at you, and clearly, you've managed to pique his curiosity by the amused expression present on his face. If you were a lesser person, you might have shrunk under the intensity of his gaze so intently trained on you but you don't, there's too much of your future dream riding on this now for you to back out before anything could have even begun. You look into his eyes, maintaining eye contact before you continue. "I have an idea, actually, it's more of a request. The next time I go back home to visit my parents, can you come with me as my husband? If I'm married to someone who lives in Tokyo, my dad can't tell me to move home anymore and he'll definitely believe that it's real once he sees your name on the official family register."

Before he can even say no or offer any protest of his own, you add, "Plus, this deal will be beneficial to you as well since you'll get a place to live until you get your own apartment. So, let's hold off on the divorce until then."

There's a hopeful look in your eyes with a look of determination painted on your features. Evidently, even without his input, it appears to be that you're dead set on this plan if it means you get the slightest chance of staying here. He contemplates a future where he says no, imagining another week of being forced to couch surf on his boss's stale office couch and living in a constant state of uncertainty for who knows how long. Sure, it's not like he's so sure about what going to happen now but at least if he agrees to this, he's not alone in dealing with whatever uncertainty is thrown his way.

He shakes his head, stubbing out the burnt end of his cigarette in the sink and takes your hand in his.

"Alright fine, yer got a deal."

taglist: @catobsessedlady , @aluvrina , @thulhu , @sn1perz , @meowmeew , @hprnx , @r0ckst4rjk , @dianakisses , @lashaemorow , @cinnabooonn

[girlbloggersfolly]

DELTA DAWN - part 1 // Camp Woodrow

Pairing: camp counsellour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (not yet but it will be) 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) After making a spontaneous trip northwest to a summer camp in need of staff with a few new friends, you find not everyone is so welcoming.

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), a whole lot of me waffling, extreme slow burn enemies to lovers ect ect ect, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, complicated relationship (not joel and reader.. yet), perv!reader, f!masturbation. absolutely NO use of y/n, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, and she can swim duh. This chapter is very tame, basically, just setting it up.

a/n: ok wow this is exciting, first chapter done and i'm pretty happy with it. Just a warning, i really mean it when I say slow burn, there will be no fluffing around at alllllll for a couple chapters, i'm not sure where i'm taking this or how long it will be, i'm thinking maybe 4? anyway enough chatter there'll be enough of that in the fic, if your reading this i love you sooooo much!!!!!!!

Camp Woodrow 1979

The Knack blasted from Sharon’s stereo, smoke plumed from Billies Joint, you’d been driving for a night or so. Mid-morning sun streamed through the windows, it was a brackish heat you had been getting all too used to. You’d met Billy, Sharon and Abel in Salt lake city at a gig, and now you were pleasantly stuck with them for the rest of summer. The drive from Salt lake city to Oregon was long, even longer in Sharon’s dads Buick which hadn’t seen the inside of a mechanic’s since 71’. The three of them had been working at Camp Woodrow each summer since they were, what was it? 15? Somehow they’d managed to persuade you to pack up your whole new life of groupie love and tour buses into a beat up Buick, taking the scenic route up to Oregon for a long, stagnant summer of campfires and controlled water sports, organised fun. You’d made the mistake of mentioning to Sharon you had lifeguard training; there and then it’d been decided you’d be the perfect replacement for their good friend Woody, who usually took the role of Lifeguard in camp, he was off in L.A, having made a name for himself in adult film. It was a long story you’d heard each salacious detail of. 

It’d been a total coincidence, meeting the three of them. You’d let some girlfriends drag you to a gig in a shifty basement venue (Billies band’s place (who weren’t nearly the legendary group they thought they were)) and had been… charmed by Billy… You’d fucked, he was just okay at it but he was easy on the eyes, knew a good dealer and it was cool to tell people you were fucking a hotshot ‘rock star’, even if he was less than generous in the bedroom. Soon you were fast friends with the whole group of them, groupies and all. So here you were, head in Billies lap, high off the broken sun on your face and second hand smoke, his hand drumming along to Doug Fieger’s voice on your bare stomach. You’d hitched a ride in Sharon’s dad’s car with her, Billy and her ‘it's complicated’ Abel.

“Are we there yet?”

Billy coughed through a cloud of smoke, yellow tinted sunglasses making him look all the pretentious rocker he wished he was. 

“Can you open a fucking window, do you know how hard it is to get that smell out these seats?”

Sharon said through agonising chomps of that wad of gum she’d had in her mouth since they’d driven through Boise. Billy cranked open the window. The hideous thrum of wind on the highway beating through the static air of the car. Your hair whipped around furiously and you sat up, stirred from the holy-half-high state. 

“Happy?” Billy said over the obnoxious sound of the engine and the wind. Sharon scoffed loudly over the sound. “I asked when are we going to fucking be there.” He spluttered yet again over his joint, smirking at you while he complained like a child to a very frustrated Sharon. “It’s just down the next turn,” He said, looking at the map in Abel’s lap, he was more focused on the magazine in his hands, you peaked over his shoulder, a sexy nun, the big, hot pink letters ‘TEASE’ haloing the cover.  

“We’re lost,” Billy hit his head back against the window, gosh he could really be a baby sometimes, you remarked internally, increasingly tired of the whole ‘Billy’ thing, a sticky situation you’d gotten into. The car broke into complaints, Sharon, searching frantically for the inconspicuous turning and little wooden sign to Camp Woodrow, stationed at the mouth of lake Calgonie. They’d eagerly shown you their collection of polaroids from the camp in the first few hours of the drive. It was exactly as you’d imagined, a classic all-American summer camp, straight from a gnarly slasher flick. 

“Motherfucker!” Sharon retaliated triumphantly as she manoeuvred the cranky old Buick down the sharp dirt road turning Camp Woodrow 500 yards. Bullseye. The road was almost too narrow, lined with unruly trees, leading up to the clearing in the dense foliage. Billy threw his joint out the window, stretching so his shirt rode up, showing off that lean torso that he was so damn proud of, flashing you a movie star grin. You tucked your hair behind your ears, putting your chuck taylor’s back on after the drive. You knew you all stunk of weed and BO.

 The car came to a pained, screeching halt in a makeshift parking lot. There were two cars parked in the other ‘spaces’, you noticed a blue Ford F-100 pick up, covered in mud and dust, your dad had one of those. Sharon let out a suggestive moan as she stretched, slamming the door behind her so hard you thought it might fall off. You all followed after her, Billy’s arm over your shoulder proudly, as if he was the one who’d just driven for 10 hours instead of whining the entire drive. You told yourself to just get over it, the summer was too long and too hot to hold onto this strange resentment you’d been harbouring for him as of late.

“Hey Abel! Sharon!” You heard from behind you, spotting a man you hadn’t seen before. He was shorter and well built, had a groomed moustache and lustrous black curls. “Tommy!” Sharon squealed, The pair embraced. You took the chance to get acquainted with your surroundings, turning away from the reunion to the woods behind you. Beautiful, it really was. You were a city kid, a suburban mole, so any chance at kindling some kind of a relationship with nature had you jumping at the opportunity, even if it meant dealing with children - Billy included. Trees as far as you could see, as high as you could see, the air clearer than you’d known it in the weeks you’d spent with these stoners.

“You remember Billy,” Abel said to Tommy, motioning to the boy next to you, who waved in his wanton fashion; too cool to put any effort into something as taxing as a wave. “Of course,” Tommy put his hands on his hips, it was hard to forget Billy. “And who’s the lady?” Tommy grinned, sauntering over, offering his hand to shake. Before you could introduce yourself, Sharon did it for you, telling him your name, which he repeated to himself. “She’s Woody’s replacement… lifeguard.” Sharon added, showing you off like an action figure. You fiddled with the hem of your denim shorts absentmindedly. “Ahh, lifeguard,” He had a firm handshake, making polite eye contact, you knew you’d get along with him. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m super excited to get started.” You said warmly, the words falling from your mouth in something like a croak, you realised you’d hardly spoken for the entire drive, absorbed in tireless thought. Tommy clapped his hands together and turned to Abel and Sharon, then back to you and Billy.

“Well the kids are coming tomorrow, so, should give y’all time to settle,” He gave a little talk, friendly, he was what a camp manager should be, what you expected him to be. It immediately settled you, but the dead weight of Billy’s arm on your shoulders, tying you to him, was a constant jarring reminder of the mess you’d got yourself into with him.

The path to the camp staff cabins was a pretty one, scenic, you listened to your own steady breaths merging with the sounds of the forests. Billy walked ahead of you, his own suitcase swinging as him and Abel laughed their way into their own cabin. Separated by gender, convenient for yourself. Sharon lit a cigarette and grabbed the bottom bunk. You guessed it was so she could sneak Abel in and fuck him a little less conspicuously.

You sat on the top bunk, staring up at the damp ceiling, smoking a cigarette and listening to Sharon tuning a little radio, she cursed over the static.

In the evening you and Sharon decided to take a walk, leaving the boys to turn their cabin into a gas chamber, the forest stunk of them. “C’mon Lifeguard,” Sharon taunted, grinning at you through her cherry chapstick-ed lips. You took it all in, the forest, which opened up to Lake Calgonie.

“Holy shit,” You breathed as you stepped out onto the dock, the sun was setting over the trees, casting a vibrant orange hue over the lake. Your trance was broken by the click of Sharon’s Polaroid camera, the whir of the picture being processed. “It’s something, huh?” She nodded, somewhat proud of the landscape. “This is-” You started, unsure of the right word for how you felt, a little stoned from earlier, weary from the drive, muscles aching, brain heaving from the whole Billy thing, in complete awe of the situation you were in, impossibly, fucking happy. “Is it deep?” You turned to her, realising she was taking a picture of you. Click, Whirrrrr.

She fanned the two polaroids for a bit, tucking them in her bra, a trick she’d giggled about a few weeks ago. “Yeah, gets pretty deep in the middle,” She shrugged, more absorbed in the development of the polaroids she’d taken of you. She noticed the curious, awe-struck look on your face.

By the time you and Sharon returned to the camp the fire was blazing, crackling pleasantly, Billy, Abel, Tommy and an older lady. “Now, I know it wasn’t you two dumbasses who got the fire started,” Sharon landed the playful jab as she planted herself on Abel's lap, announcing her arrival the way she always did, her laugh echoing through the forest. Billy shuffled up to make space for you on the log, his arm around you in seconds, you were sure that that fucking arm would break your damn shoulder soon from how much he rested there. 

“Hey where’s Joel?” Billy asked suddenly. You were only half listening, now the fully developed polaroids were being flashed at you; it was you looking over your shoulder in candid surprise, engulfed in the flashlight and the rich sunset from behind, like a deer in the headlights. “Well what’s he doing in his cabin?” Billy said loudly with a cocky chuckle.

You tuned him out, letting your brain run away with itself, watching as the older woman examined the polaroid that Sharon was passing around for admiration. “Beautiful ain’t she,” Sharon quipped, shooting you a playful wink as she peered over the older woman’s shoulder at your picture. Tommy poked at the fire, blowing at it expertly, so this was the country man. “Oh, this is Lou by the way,” Tommy nodded towards the bright eyed older woman, “She’s one of our senior camp leaders, and our chef,” He said with a tight smile towards you, clearly the introduction was pointed. It was dark now, the faces of your friends and acquaintances lit up by firelight, illuminated in the orange. 

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You whispered to Billy, waiting for him to direct you. “It's between the weird tree, with all the branches, remember? and the bigger Cabins, showers there too.”

It was the first time you’d been alone for a couple days. As much as you were charmed by your fast friends, a long lonesome walk to the john was very much needed. Abel’s lighter, you'd borrowed one night from his coat pocket, clicked to life in your hand, the small flame lapping at the cherry end of your cigarette as it hung between your lips. You walked slowly to prolong your time alone, admiring the trees, listening to the forest by night and the gentle padding of your sneakers across the dirt.

After relieving yourself in the makeshift hut you wondered if you could even call a ‘bathroom’, you wandered as slowly as possible down the path, blowing plumes of smoke into the still night, feeling the trees sigh around you. You imagined what your parents were doing right now, sitting in their condo in Cedar city, probably off to bed. You rarely thought of them anymore. 

You were brought to a standstill by one of the larger cabins, you took a drag of your cigarette and stood watching the window. You suddenly felt like a complete peeping tom; a man appeared in the window, not a man, a wife-beater clad god. He paced up to the edge of the room, giving you time to properly take him in; a quality of moustache you’d only seen in porn flicks, a soft, yet muscular torso, paired with arms that looked like they could snap Billy in two. You let the cover of nightfall mask the growing warmth on your cheeks. He stretched, wife beater riding up to reveal the unruly outline of a happy trail. Jesus christ. He was older, that was obvious enough, late forties? early fifties? You tucked your lips into a thin line, gazing at him, feeling like one of the fucking creeps you so often complained about and really not caring.

“Who is that guy?” You mused to Sharon back in the cabin, as she went through her skincare regiment in the janky little mirror, your limbs draped down from the top bunk like a fancy throw rug. “What guy?” She said, the tube of moisturiser taking up her full attention. “I ran into this guy when I went to pee? Moustache, in his forties, maybe fifties?.” You were like a teenager again, batting your eyelashes up at the ceiling. “Joel?” She cooed, turning to face you abruptly, clearly she had the same idea, you’d pulled her attention now. “You met Joel?” She seemed very impressed by this, but met was a strong word, you’d watched him in his cabin for a minute or so. You suddenly felt like this was something you shouldn’t have done, for whatever reason, maybe it was that sultry look in her eye all of a sudden, the accusatory tone in her pouty mouth. “Mhmm” You hummed warily, sitting up to look down at her from the top bunk. She scoffed, massaging her skin “Joel’s Tommy’s big brother, he runs the camp with him, total hunk right?” She teased. It made sense, Joel had looked like his brother, taller you thought, a little rougher around the edges. “How come he wasn’t at the fire?” You pictured him in his cabin, all alone. You now remembered Billy asking for him earlier. “He’s not the biggest fan of um, Billy and Abel, caught them sneaking in these girls, y’know, getting high a couple years ago, but they were like 17, like he’s had it out for them for a while.” This story didn’t come as a surprise, you imagined a young Billy and Abel getting caught smoking pot with girls by the lake. “It’s really only thanks to Tommy that we were allowed back, Joel would’ve gotten rid of them a while ago, wouldn’t’ve been outta line to either,” Sharon rambled on, all you could think about were those broad shoulders, the curve of his aquiline nose, it was a perverted stereotype you didn’t mind filling, young girl absolutely taken by an older man she most definitely could not have. “It’s a shame, he’s so fucking hot,” Sharon said as she pursed her lips, applying a healthy amount of lip balm to her pout. 

Camp LIFEGUARD t-shirt on, little red running shorts that covered next to nothing, chuck taylors to match, another pair of Billies big brown sunglasses on your nose, you were every bit the summer camp lifeguard. Tommy had your lifeguard certificate and paperwork, breakfast had been a breeze, it was all ready. The kids were arriving in the afternoon, so you had the morning to scope the place out alone, leaving Sharon with the guys and taking the path to the lake.

The lake was invigorating as you dipped your toe through the strangely still surface, chuck taylor’s, socks, shirt, glasses and the little metal whistle all bundled into a polite little pile on the edge of the dock. You sat down, taking a deep breath and splashing your feet gently in the water, the tiny ripples lapping back at your calves. It truly did feel like a movie to you, clad in that red, lifeguard swimsuit, hopefully catching some sun.

The morning was pleasant, if a little humid. As warm as it gets in the pacific northwest, you basked in the quiet of the lake, sliding slowly into the water. It was eerily calm after the recent chaos that had become your beloved life. 

You hadn’t swam leisurely in a while, not in a lake for even longer. You avoided the silty bottom by pushing off immediately to the middle, planning to test just how deep this lake was. It was strangely clear, you could see the bottom for a while, but as you swam out, below you it was just your flailing limbs treading in the dark blue. The hum of a boat engine broke the trance you’d been under all morning, snapping into consciousness as a small speedboat made its way around the lake, right up close to where you were treading water. You hadn’t seen it from the dock, hadn't noticed any waves.

 It came to a quick halt, splashing water in your face. “Motherfucker” You spluttered as you spat out lake water. You wiped your eyes and shielded them from the sun to see who this obnoxious, nautical asshole was. He looked down at you, crouching, silhouetted by the sun. 

“You shouldn’t be swimming without a lifeguard.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light you identified the asshole: Joel, your blood ran colder than it already was. You could see him better now, dark glasses on, those sun kissed forearms, his slightly sun bleached STAFF t-shirt, that low, southern voice still unbearably charming, pouring over you like molasses even when he was being cold.

You realised you were staring and looked to your left at the dock. “Sorry, sir,” You started, hoping he’d appreciate the formality, “I am the lifeguard,” You grinned up at him with a saccharine bat of your eyelashes, really trying to appeal to the sexiest man you’d ever seen. He was still staring down at you in the water, sunglasses giving away nothing.

He let out a short scoff, obviously not amused. “Well what happens when you drown?” He said coldly, he did not seem at all charmed by that killer grin you flaunted so well, so you let it drop ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t kill him with kindness? “No lifeguard out to save your ass,” He looked down at you pointedly, still crouched beside you like you would’ve done with a kid that dived in a no dive pool. 

“I’m a strong swimmer.” You cocked your head, he scoffed again, shaking his head in casual disbelief. You were too absorbed in working out whether he looked more like Burt Reynolds or Tom Selleck. “I don't care how strong’a swimmer you are, missy,” He retaliated quickly, your lips parted in slight surprise, you weren’t used to people being even slightly unpleasant to you, thanks to your people pleasing.

“I'm sorry?” You said in the wake of your surprise.

“Look, lifeguard, I’m gonna ask you to strongly swim back to the dock right about fuckin’ now,” He stood up to his full height chuckling at you in that southern baritone, again darkened to a silhouette by the sun. You remembered how good his muscular body looked in that wife beater, his goddamn broad shoulders, then pushed the thoughts from your brain, it was fucking embarrassing, you batting your eyelashes and grinning at him like he wasn’t reprimanding you.

After hastily making your way back to camp, a complete state, your cheeks annoyingly hot with embarrassment and a sinking feeling that you could only call ‘horny’, you caught up with the rest of the guys. They’d somehow got the radio set up and were sitting around it outside the boy’s cabin like moths to a light, Buffalo Springfield was playing softly, the sound slightly subdued, broken by static every so often.

You leant on the wall beside them, trying to collect yourself after whatever the fuck that was. “How's the water temp, sugar,” Billy landed a light slap on your ass. You couldn't even look at them, afraid to see your own flushed reflection in their tinted sunglasses. “Tepid.” You heard yourself say absentmindedly. You knew two things for sure, Joel was an enigmatic pain in your ass; another to add to the ever growing list. The other, he had you wrapped around his little finger, you hated yourself for it, but hated him more. “I need a dart,” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your feet as Billy lit your cigarette.

The kids arrived intermittently once Abels casio read 15:00, hoards of them, and quickly. Bumbling groups of girls and boys, completely feral. You silently thanked god that all you'd be doing was watching them, making sure none of their little heads stayed underwater for too long, leaving the morale-boosting, camp spirit stuff to your friends and the other staff. Luckily no water sports on the first day, so you were free to lounge around without worrying about some kid dying on your watch.

You sort of wished you had a way to get your mind off the whole Joel thing, it really shouldn't have gotten to you as much as it had. But there was something about the whole thing, something simply despotic about the way he looked down at you, ordering you about, it fucking jarred you all afternoon, distracting you even from Billy’s hand on your ass.

The next time you saw Joel that day he was with a few kids, a couple suitcases tossed over his shoulders, a big grin on his face as he spoke to them, it wasn't mocking, wasn't charged with some quick-witted comment that he’d make sure really stung, it was paternal, sweet. You don’t know why you thought he’d be cold to everyone.

Damn kids didn't know how good they had it as he made them laugh, beaming with child-like enthusiasm. “Who’s that?” You asked Billy quickly, as if you didn't know full well who that was, as if he hadn't been the only thing on your frazzled, embarrassed mind. Billy scoffed, watching Joel just as intently as you had been. “That’s Joel Miller,” he said that name with more passion than you’d ever heard him put into anything, “Him and I don’t get along so well, sweets,” He nodded, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at these pet names he’d been experimenting with. You tuned out the rest of Billy’s moaning, regretting even asking him, the phrases ‘Grade A asshole’ and ‘hypocrite’ were tossed around quite senselessly. 

You needed a shower, everyone did but you weren't going to be the one to tell them that. With a crispy towel in hand and Sharon's flip flops you haphazardly made your way through the dark forest, the kids all in their cabins, staff eating round the campfire. Sharon said she'd meet you there in 20, at least one other person in this damn place knew when they needed a shower. The shower shack was something you’d have to get used to. Even in the abysmal water pressure, even with the ceiling completely caked in cobwebs occupied by creatures you really did not like the look of, the hot water was balm. It washed the smell of the lake off of you, and the dizzying BO you’d gotten used to in the last few days, cleaned off that lingering scent of pot from your skin.

You sang quietly to yourself, an Elvis song that'd been stuck in your head all week. “Your kisses lift me higher,” you scrubbed yourself with the ratty bar of soap you’d found in Sharon's wash bag, the song falling out of you at an increasingly enthusiastic pace, volume rising as you let the water infiltrate your scalp.

“I just might turn into smoke but i feel fine,” Billy was not an Elvis fan, never had been, but that didn't stop you from humming along every time he entered your brain. You heard another shower start and Sharon getting in, not for one second stopping the music falling out of you. You weren't a particularly gifted singer, but in the shower that never mattered. After singing the song countless times you turned off the water. “Just a hunk’a burnin love,” You hummed, the cool night air causing your skin to goose pimple, your nipples to harden as you wrapped your body in the itchy little towel that really didn't do much to cover you up. 

You lit a cigarette as you stepped out, deciding to wait for Sharon outside the showers as she’d instructed earlier, admiring your reflection in the clouded mirror, wiping them clear. “Hurry up, fuckin’ cow,” You chuckled, raising your voice over the sound of the shower that was still going. Like a spell, it stopped, for once she was feeling nice.

"‘Bout time,” You giggled as you combed through your hair with your fingers, cigarette hanging precariously from your lips. You didn’t look away from your reflection as you grabbed your toothbrush from the pocket of your shorts which lay in a little discarded pile beside the sinks. “It's like being at The Westgate, Las Vegas,” The familiar voice chuckled, that condescending comment about your spectacular rendition of Elvis’ ‘burning love’ going right over your head in favour of utter shock and realisation, which hit like a ten ton truck.

You practically spun on your heels to see a smirking Joel Miller shirtless, a towel slung carelessly around his hips. The wind was knocked out of you as you let your eyes linger on his torso, just how fucking built he was, beaded with water, his chest sprinkled with hair matching that on his face. Holy shit. 

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, hugging the towel tighter to your body, scooping up the toothpaste you’d jetted all over the sink from squeezing the tube in your state of shock. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “Thought you were Sharon,” You said shakily to the sink as you washed the toothpaste from your fingers, your voice now lacking the confidence it’d possessed when you called Joel Miller a ‘fucking cow’. You felt like slamming your head through the mirror right about now, not daring to check if the heat that had spread across your cheeks was visible. “Thought you were Elvis,” He quipped, ever the witty bastard, pulling out a small razor and some shaving foam, clearly he was planning on staying. 

You took a drag of your cigarette to pull yourself back to earth. “You make a habit of sneaking up on girls in the shower?” You heard yourself say, like your mind hadn’t turned into that of a perverted teenage boy after you saw him last night.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” So he knew he was hot shit, standing there more naked than you were comfortable with in that moment, that towel doing very little to distract you from the fact he was right there, all of him, rubbing shaving foam on his jaw. “You're too old to be talking like that,” you said coldly through your dead-pan, the biting words lacking the fire you intended for them. He chuckled slightly, his low voice almost a growl, reverberating through you as you attempted to squeeze your toothpaste onto the toothbrush without making another mess.  “Definitely Billy’s girl,” He said to himself as he held his razor up to the light.

Now that was too far, you turned your face to him, lips parted into a half-hearted scowl as you watched a couple droplets fall from his hair, you held on to the little towel for dear life. “What's that supposed to mean,” You shook your head in disbelief, that had truly been a low blow. “Well you are ain’ch’ya?” He shrugged, bringing the razor to his cheek, you said a silent prayer to god that his hand would slip. “No,” You said after a moment's hesitation. Billy wasn’t your guy and you certainly weren't his girl, he was a friend you sometimes, reluctantly let hump you until he finished. “He know that?” Joel scoffed, suddenly very talkative, you hadn't expected that from the authoritarian asshole who’d scolded you this morning, now a scintillating asshole. “Seemed awful comfy this even-” You cut him off quickly. “It's none of your business Joel,” you snapped, turning back to look at your glassy reflection.

This man would be the death of you; all of this, and now another mouth to ask you about Billy. “Billy’s a prick,” Joel said casually as he shaved his face, it almost startled you, the first thing you agreed with him about. “Aren't you perceptive?” The sarcasm rolled out of you, prompting another of those short, patronising chuckles from Joel.

“What's the appeal then?” It was a good point, why did you hang around with Billy when you could admit that the kid was a complete dickwad. Was it those looks? the way people seemed to gravitate towards his obnoxious laughter? It was all embarrassingly shallow.

“We hang in the same circles,” You shrugged, now completely absorbed by watching Joel shaving so expertly, still hoping your prayer would be answered. “Is he a good fuck?” Joel asked brazenly, not looking away from his own cold expression in the mirror as he cleaned up his moustache, your breath caught in your throat and you stamped out your cigarette on your ratty sneakers to disguise your prudish shock.

The answer was no, a dead no, no matter how much he thought he was. “And there's another thing that's absolutely none of your business,” You began brushing your teeth, glancing at him to see the telling smirk on his lips, that was all he needed to know. 

After a much needed break in the conversation you spat out the toothpaste, holding your hair back and running the tap. You turned to leave with the pile of clothes in your arms, you’d rather’ve taken the short journey to your cabin in the little towel than spend another damn second in that room with Joel fucking Miller. “Hey, kiddo,” Joel interjected casually, you turned to look at him with an obedience that made you sick.

“Next time you find yourself peepin’ on me in my cabin, just knock on the door.” 

You huffed an exasperated, short breath as you slammed the door to the cabin behind you, happy that Sharon was nowhere to be seen. You changed, cursing Joel under your breath over and over and over again as you pulled one of Billy’s ‘Supertramp’ t-shirts over your wet head of hair. That motherfucker! Where could you even start?

He’d seen you watching him. He’d known all day that you stood in the treeline in the unassuming disguise of nightfall, smoking as you’d watched him get ready for bed. He’d called you ‘kiddo’?! you groaned as you curled yourself into the quilt on your top bunk.

You guessed that Sharon was banging Abel in the next cabin, Billy had probably passed out from a long day of doing absolutely nothing. No matter what you thought about to get your mind off Joel; the image of him shirtless and dripping wet, his quick retaliations, nothing helped. You counted sheep, sang ‘Burning love’ a couple more times through, the shame just didn't wear off. He’d gotten the better of you today, catching you out at all the right moments, embarrassing you over and over again.

Finally, after stalling what you knew would be your only relief after a day like this, you let your hand venture under your panties, touching yourself gently at first, ego too bruised to allow yourself what you really wanted. Soon you were practically crying his name into your pillow, back arching desperately. You’d broken into a slight sweat, lips parting quiet ecstasy as relief washed over you. 

You made the decision then and there, it was sink or swim, you weren't going to let today happen again, not let your epic, man-eating reputation be stamped into the dirt  by some old washed-up cowboy with an ego for days and some strange Tom-Selleck-esque power over you.

You were going to become Joel Miller's worst fucking nightmare. 

PART 2

[ultrone]

𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗗𝗚𝗘 ┊ 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖼

synopsis (request). click here.

cw. mentions of alcohol, smoking.

wc. 4k at most.

You sprinted across the soccer field, your heart pounding loudly. The ball was at your feet, and you could feel the weight of the game resting on your shoulders. Tai had anticipated your run and passed the ball to you at the perfect moment, giving you a great chance to succeed. You used all your energy to move past the players trying to stop you, getting closer to the goal with each step, and the goalpost seemed to grow larger as you approached.

You swung your leg with all your might and kicked the ball. Time seemed to slow down as you watched it soar through the air, perfectly aimed toward the net. The goalkeeper dived, desperately trying to block your shot, but it was too late. The ball hit the back of the net, and the crowd started cheering loudly.

The loud cheers from the crowd filled your ears, echoing across the field. The faces of your schoolmates, friends, and family merged into a joyful blur, all united in celebrating your win.

Amidst the sea of jubilant faces, you saw your teammates rushing towards you. Their beaming smiles mirrored your own. They embraced you tightly, jumping up and down in pure happiness. Lottie, your best friend and teammate, was the first one to reach you. She enveloped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground, her eyes sparkling with pride and excitement.

"We're going to nationals!" Van exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. The entire team erupted into a collective celebration, their voices blending into a symphony of joyous shouts and cheers, continuing to jump up and down.

💽 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa

The music echoed off the walls of the locker room, and all of your teammates joined in singing along and dancing, filled with happiness knowing that you had made it to nationals.

Lottie twirled around the room, dancing her way towards the bathroom. She glanced at Jackie, who was busy applying makeup to Allie's face, and spoke up, "Coach wants to see you in his office."

Jackie nodded and gave a gentle squeeze to Allie's arm before leaving without saying a word. Van stepped in, seamlessly taking Jackie's place and continuing to apply makeup to Allie's face.

As Allie began to voice her frustration to Van about being the only freshmen player missing prom to attend nationals, you emerged from one of the stalls, tidying your shirt as you did. The moment Lottie caught sight of you, a wide grin illuminated her face.

"There you are," she exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight.

"Here I am," you playfully responded, raising your eyebrows in jest.

"You did amazing today, Y/n," Lottie said, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "I'm really proud of you," she added, a gentle smile gracing her face as she affectionately rubbed your arm.

"Thanks, Lott," you replied, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks at her touch. "You weren't too bad yourself," you teased, causing Lottie to roll her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad I could live up to your impossibly high standards," Lottie retorted with a hint of sarcasm, her lips curling into a smile. "But hey, I wanted to ask, do you wanna come over?" she asked, her hand sliding from your arm to entwine her fingers with yours, playfully twirling them.

“Right now?” You questioned.

"Yeah, my parents aren't home again," she explained.

"Weren't they supposed to come back from their trip last night?" you asked confused. "I thought they were here at the game."

"They were supposed to, but they changed their return tickets once more," she replied, pursing her lips to conceal her disappointment. "You know how they are," she added, attempting to make light of the situation.

You nodded in understanding, giving her a soft smile. "I'll only go on one condition," you said as your smile gradually turned into a smirk.

"And what would that be?" Lottie asked, returning your smile with equal enthusiasm.

"If we order pizza and you let me choose today's movie," you bargained.

"But you picked the movie last time," she complained, tilting her head in mock protest.

You simply shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Ugh, fine," she conceded, a defeated smile playing on her lips, knowing she had no other choice but to agree. "I'll go get my things, I'll wait for you outside." With that, she pulled you closer, planting a small peck on your cheek before darting off towards the locker rooms to gather her belongings.

As soon as Lottie's footsteps faded away, Taissa's voice filled the air.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm so proud of you," she mimicked Lottie with an exaggerated tone, her hands reaching for Van's face. Van, who had finished doing Allie's makeup earlier, burst into laughter as Taissa peppered her face with playful kisses.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing one of the dirty towels, and playfully smacked Tai's back with it. "Shut up, both of you," you said with a flushed face, trying to hide your embarrassment. "I hate you," you added, unable to suppress your smile.

“She's so in love with you, it's getting embarrassing," Tai remarked, playfully snatching the towel from your hand and poking your stomach.

"Yeah, and you probably have feelings for her too," Van chimed in, a teasing tone lacing her words.

"No, I don't," you replied, rolling your eyes, trying to dismiss the notion. "We're just best friends," you assured them, your voice carrying a hint of defensiveness.

"Yeah right," Tai responded with a knowing smile. "Hey, look at us, Y/n! Van and I are best friends too," she declared mischievously, twirling Van around playfully, and pretending to make her fall back like a princess, capturing her in a passionate kiss.

"Alright, enough teasing," you said, playfully nudging them with a smile on your face. With that, you left the bathroom and headed towards your locker to gather your belongings, ready to join Lottie outside.

Once you had collected all your belongings and bid farewell to your friends, you stepped outside the gym and spotted Lottie patiently waiting for you in her car. With a smile, you hopped in, and she started the engine, driving the two of you towards her house.

The two of you were lying next to each other on Lottie's queen-sized bed. The large box of pizza sat on the floor, nearly empty, as neither of you could take another bite without feeling overwhelmed. The second movie of the night was halfway through, but both of you were more engrossed in your phones than in whatever was happening on the screen.

Lottie's gaze shifted towards you, noticing the constant kicking of your feet and occasional giggles.

"What are you looking at?" she asked curiously, attempting to catch a glimpse of your phone.

"Nothing," you replied, emphasizing the last syllable and turning your screen away from her. "I'm just texting Nat, that's all," you explained, causing her to furrow her eyebrows.

"Since when do you and Nat text each other?" she inquired.

"Um... I don't know. She helped me out with a project about Italy around two weeks ago, and we've been talking a lot since then. Turns out she's more fun than I thought," you chuckled.

"I see," Lottie responded, her tone tinged with a hint of coldness, before returning her attention to her own screen.

A silence lingered between you for about five minutes before Lottie spoke up again.

"Isn't she into girls?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's bi," you replied confidently, looking at her. "Why do you ask?" you asked curiously, before returning your gaze to your phone to reply to another text from Nat.

"Do you like her?" Lottie asked, her voice tinged with slight impatience, though you didn't notice.

"What?" You turned your head towards her, shocked and confused, signaling for her to repeat the question.

"Do you have a crush on her?" She reiterated with more detail.

"What? No!" You quickly responded, letting out a surprised chuckle. "I mean, no. Of course not," you continued. "She's very nice, and we're getting along really well, but honestly I don’t think I could ever look at her that way," you assured. "Why would you think that?" You asked, genuinely curious about her sudden question.

"No reason, just wondering," she replied with a soft smile, attempting to hide her slight uneasiness. "It's just that you're very giggly, kicking your feet and all. I had to ask," she explained humorously.

You laughed loudly. "Well, I don't have feelings for her like that," you reassured, returning your gaze to the chat on your phone.

Lottie nodded, her smile fading a bit as she turned her attention to her own phone.

The room grew quiet, with only the movie dialogue playing softly in the background. She wasn't convinced at all, she knew there was something happening between you two, but she wouldn't argue. At least not right now.

After a few minutes, Lottie spoke up again, her voice filled with uncertainty. "You know, if you did like her, it would be okay. I mean, she's cool, and if you're happy, then that's all that matters."

“Lottie, I don’t like her,” you reiterated. "Is everything alright? You're acting a bit weird," you asked concerned.

"Yeah... yeah," she replied, the second time a bit louder and more confident than the first. "Just forget about it," she said with a sigh and a chuckle. "Anyway, Jackie just told me that Jeff agreed to throw a party at his house tomorrow to celebrate us making it to nationals."

“Yes!” you exclaimed excitedly. “Do you mind if I spend the night? And then we leave together for the party.”

“Just using me for my car, huh?” Lottie teased sarcastically.

"And for your amazing closet," you replied, skipping towards her closet and dramatically opening it, running your fingers over the fabrics. "I wonder what I'll wear tomorrow," you added with a smirk. Lottie playfully threw a pillow at you, and you tossed it back, then quickly jumped over her and gave her a hug, both of you laughing.

It was 10:00 pm, and you and Lottie were on your way to the party. The car window was rolled down, and your arm rested halfway out as you leaned your chin on it, gazing at the stars. Your lips moved to the lyrics of the song playing, lost in the moment. Lottie couldn't help but steal glances at you, captivated by the sight of your hair flowing in the wind and your eyes reflecting the starry night sky. A tight feeling clenching her chest.

The entire day had been spent together, lazily passing the time. Since it was Saturday and there was no school, you had stayed at Lottie's house, just talking and watching movies. Despite the lack of any specific activity, the day had been enjoyable. Whenever the two of you were together, no matter what you did, it was never boring.

You tried not to think about it, you really did, but the thought of yesterday’s interaction wouldn’t leave your mind. Why was Lottie asking me all those questions about Nat? And why was she so weird about it? What if she’s… No, no, she’s obviously not into me, I mean, does she even like girls? She’s never mentioned it before, I don’t think so. She never talks about boys though, but th-

"We're here," Lottie's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Are you okay? You seemed deep in thought," she asked, her worry evident as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, offering a comforting smile.

"Y-yeah, sorry," you stammered, blinking rapidly. "Let's go," you said, quickly stepping out of the car.

The two of you walked towards the familiar entrance, accompanied by the blaring music that filled your ears. This wasn't your first time here; Jeff, Jackie’s boyfriend and the football team captain, frequently threw parties as his parents were often away traveling.

The moment you stepped inside, the mingling scents of alcohol and tobacco hit your nostrils. You scanned the room and spotted Shauna, Jackie, and Tai deep in conversation by the pool table, each holding a red cup. Both you and Lottie headed towards them to say hi.

"Wait," you said to Lottie, pausing for a moment. "I'm gonna go grab a drink from the kitchen real quick. Do you want anything?" you asked her.

"Nah, I'm good. I think I'll smoke a bit first," she replied.

"Okay. I'll be there in a bit," you said before turning your steps towards the kitchen.

It was a short walk, a small hallway connected the living room with the pool table to the kitchen, and the door frame was large enough that even from the back corner of the kitchen, you had a clear view of the entire hallway and a significant portion of the living room.

As expected, the kitchen was a mess, with water scattered across the floor, red cups strewn about, and empty beer bottles littered the kitchen bar. You rummaged through the disarray and, luckily, spotted a half-filled bottle of Smirnoff vodka. You poured the vodka into a cup, and then added soda into it as well. While stirring the drink with your index finger, you turned around and leaned against the kitchen bar.

After finishing the mixing process, you licked your finger and took a big sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down your throat, balanced by the sweetness of the soda. As you slowly lowered the cup, your gaze instantly found Lottie in the crowd.

For the first time that night, you couldn't help but pay close attention to her appearance, despite trying your best not to. She wore a soft pink checkered skirt that accentuated her long, stunning legs, paired with a darker pink fuzzy cropped sweater and stylish black boots. Her wavy brown hair cascaded loosely, resting gracefully on her shoulders. A radiant smile adorned her face as she engaged in conversation with the girls, her weight shifted onto her right leg, while her right hand casually rested on the pool table. In her left hand, she held a beer she likely found somewhere, holding a cigarette between her fingers.

Suddenly, a voice broke you from the trance you were in.

"Quit drooling, Y/n," Nat teased, standing next to you, a mischievous grin on her face.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "See? This is why I didn't want to tell you about it. Now you won't let it go," you muttered, turning to face her.

Nat smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "No, I won't. Should've known better before telling me," she replied playfully.

"Ah, fuck off," you joked, playfully shoving her shoulder.

Leaning her face to one side and crossing her arms, Nat asked, "So, when are you telling her how you feel?"

You looked at her as if she had said something absurd. "Um... never???" you responded, emphasizing the obviousness of your answer.

"Are you kidding?" Nat exclaimed, clearly baffled by your response.

"Why would I be kidding?" you retorted. "She's my best friend, Nat. I don't want to risk it. Plus, I don't even know if she's into girls," you explained.

"Dude, literally everyone knows she's into you. You're the only one stupid enough not to notice," Nat declared, shaking her head in disbelief.

"No, she's not into me," you insisted, trying to deny Nat's claims.

Nat shook her head, an exasperated expression on her face. "She waits for you after practice every day to drive you home, she's always staring at you and blushing when you look back at her. She's touchy, always playing with your fingers and doing gay shit like that. And she talks about you all the damn time, to the point where it's annoying," she asserted. "She even goes easy on you during practice, for fuck's sake."

"Okay, okay, I get it," you interrupted, realizing that Nat had a point. "But that could just be her being a good best friend, right?" you tried to argue back.

Nat sighed, clearly frustrated. "You have to be kidding me, Y/n," she said. "You know that I'm right. You're just too much of a pussy to admit it."

"No, I'm not," you defended yourself, feeling fear and uncertainty welling up inside you.

"Yes, you are," Nat repeated, deliberately trying to provoke you.

You were scared. What Nat had pointed out was undeniably true — Lottie's actions had been blurring the line between friendship and something more. You were desperate to confess your feelings, but the fear of rejection held you back. In frustration, you huffed and downed the rest of your drink, unable to find any more arguments to counter Nat's claims.

“You smirred your lipstick a bit,” she said.

“Where? Here?” you said as you cleaned the wrong side with your thumb.

"No, no, lemme just..." Nat trailed off, moving her thumb toward your lip and carefully wiping away the smudged lipstick on your lower lip. Her brows furrowed in concentration.

Just as the moment between you and Nat seemed to linger, a throat cleared nearby, abruptly interrupting the innocent exchange. Startled, you turned around to find Lottie standing there, a fresh new drink in her hand and her cigarette almost finished.

"Y/n, can we talk?" she requested, her tone leaving no room for refusal. Her voice held a firmness, almost demanding, as she spoke, and her gaze was empty — almost tinged with jealousy — as she looked at Nat.

"Yeah, sure," you replied with a smile, though a sense of nervousness crept in. Turning to Nat, you bid her farewell with a smile and a nod. Then, you followed Lottie as she began walking, ascending the stairs. You trailed behind her like a lost puppy about to be scolded, noticing her slightly unsteady steps along the way. It was evident she was already tipsy, and you could feel a tingling sensation starting to spread through your own body.

Lost in your thoughts, you snapped back to reality as Lottie abruptly stopped walking. You found yourselves standing on a balcony that overlooked the backyard of the house. You looked down and saw people scattered around, engrossed in their own conversations.

Resting her elbows on the balcony bar, Lottie stared ahead, taking a deep drag from her cigarette before exhaling. The air between you grew heavy with silence, laced with a tinge of awkward tension—an unspoken desire to express so much but struggling to find the right words or the moment to begin.

You walked up beside Lottie, mirroring her posture by resting your elbows on the bar. Together, you observed the people below, waiting for Lottie to gather her thoughts and initiate the conversation.

Flicking the last ashes off her cigarette, she dropped it to the ground below and casually stepped on it. With deliberate movements, she shifted her body to fully face you, keeping only one arm resting on the bar. Her eyes locked onto your face, and you met her gaze, anticipating her next words.

"I've been wanting to tell you something," she began, her voice tinged with sincerity and vulnerability. "Honestly, I didn't plan on it, never thought it would happen, but it's getting to a point where I feel like I'll burst if I don't say it," she confessed, her words carrying a weight of honesty.

You furrowed your brows in silence, a hint of concern in your voice. "Lott, you know you can tell me anything. What's wrong?" you asked, though deep down, you had a sense of what she might be hinting at. Your heart began to race, awaiting her response.

Lottie hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her usually confident demeanor faltered slightly, and her voice wavered as she gathered her thoughts. She took a deep breath before finally speaking. "Well, I... I've been feeling something for you, Y/n," she began, staring deeply into your eyes.

She continued, her words carefully chosen as she tried to articulate her emotions. "I've been trying to deny it, but I can't ignore the way my heart races when I'm with you, or how your smile lights up my day. Every time we're together, it's like everything else fades away, and it's just you and me."

"I think…" Lottie paused, correcting herself, "Uh... I mean, I know. I'm in love with you, Y/n," her voice trembled slightly as she finished her confession. Her eyes searching yours for a response, her vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. Lottie liked you back. You couldn't believe it, really. You stood there in stunned silence, trying to make sure the alcohol wasn't playing tricks on your ears.

Gathering your thoughts, you locked eyes with Lottie, searching for any sign or indication that this was some kind of joke, but there was none. The sincerity in her eyes was undeniable. You didn't need her to repeat herself; you knew what she had said.

"I'm in love with you too, Lottie," you confessed, your voice filled with certainty.

"Wait... what?" she asked, her expression dumbfounded. "I-I thought you had a thing for Nat," she said, confusion evident in her voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Nat is just my friend," you reassured her.

"But she was touching your lips, and I thought..."

"She was helping me clean my smudged lipstick. I smudged it because I chugged down my entire cup of vodka, which I did because she was trying to convince me to accept that we're in love and that I should confess my feelings to you, but I refused," you explained, filling in the missing pieces.

Lottie's voice was filled with hope as she asked, "Wait, so you really like me back?"

Her hopeful question hung in the air, and without wasting another second, you thought that actions would speak louder than words. You swiftly pulled her towards you by the collar of her sweater, and then slid your hands up, locking your fingers in the nape of her neck, holding her firmly but tenderly, and you tightly pursed your lips together as if it were second nature to you. Your mouth was suddenly filled with the flavour of beer and tobacco, and you couldn't help but moan at the taste. She initially tensed in surprise but she soon relaxed and returned the kiss with the same intensity, tenderly moving her hands to your waist and drawing you in. As your tongue touched her lower lip to plead for access, her sweet scent filled your nostrils. You slid one of your hands to her cheek and softly caressed it with your thumb. As soon as she opened her mouth, your tongues started dancing together, fitting like perfectly matched jigsaw pieces.

Struggling for air, the both of you separated, your lips were bruised, and your breaths were rapid. You slowly opened your eyes and then gazed lovingly at one another.

"Does that answer your question?" you asked while catching your breath.

"Mmmm, I think I need another kiss," She bargained, a smirk slowly forming on her face, "Just to make sure you aren't lying, y'know?” She added.

"Yeah, right," you replied, returning her smirk. "Well, your wish is my command," you said, leaning in once again, ready to fulfill her request for another kiss.

“Fucking finally!” A drunken voice yelled from the backyard, followed by the sound of a cup being thrown in the air, hitting the bar with a loud thud. Startled, you turned around to find a drunken Taissa, accompanied by Nat and Van, giving you and Lottie a boisterous round of applause in celebration of your apparent confession.

As the both of you laughed in embarrasement, you playfully raised your middle finger at them, then pulled Lottie closer with your other hand. Your lips met once again in a deep, passionate kiss, eliciting a loud cheer from the girls below you.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

A friend of mine asked for advice on writing a poem so, I figured I'd share it more widely. This is how I personally tend to go through the process (although sometimes poems just come in a stream of consciousness and I'm like damn where'd you come from???)

This gets long so, under the cut

To me, a poem is circling around an idea through building a structure, so:

1. Figure out a key idea that connects two things together("smoke is a metaphor for hidden places" + "Mary Supernatural's relationship to motherhood" = "Mary Supernatural's hidden feelings about motherhood explored through the metaphor of a house fire")

OR a scene where something very sensory is happening ("eating a live octopus", "running on a cold day")

2. Write a short paragraph of whatever comes into my head as I think about that. Connections to other works, random lines, images, concepts. The ideas can be cliché and shit and not be used in the final piece!!

I'll do one rn for the octopus concept:

"What could the octopus be a metaphor for? Struggling to create a piece of work? Like how I rotate pieces of media around in my head for a while sometimes without getting a clear thought on them, as I am with Mouthwashing right now. The struggling kick of life. A life without hands, only senses. A constant reaching forever. Maybe a squid would be better, it releases cloudy ink...? But it's not as big as an octopus. Poem speaker confused between squid and octopus. The sensation of being strangled from the inside by the octopus tentacles. Fighting against yourself and your own instincts to give up. Tears forming as ideas form. Salt and copper. The tongue is kind of like a tentacle in itself. 'I swallow it, until it becomes mine'."

^ this helps solidify the ideas of the poem without having to battle through 3 or 4 drafts while looking at a blank page willing ideas to come out. Sometimes I just do that part in my head but it can be helpful to refer back.

What I love about poetry is that you can just skip to the exciting bit! You don't need a bunch of characters or scene descriptions or dialogue. It can all be the bit that makes you go hell yeah cool cool cool!! (<- guy who finds literary analysis cool)

3. Whichever of those ideas speak to you, use some to write a first stanza. The rhythm can be whatever sounds good in your head:

"I'm eating an octopus

(Live)

With gusto,

It's fighting me back but I bite."

So now we have an established rhythm! For this one it's

7 syllables [no comma]

(a short aside)

3 syllables,

8 syllables.

Now for the rest of the poem I can use that same rhythm, which keeps me focused. If you don't want to come up with your own rhythm, there's plenty of established poetry rhythms and rhyme schemes, if you google "types of poem" they will appear as if by magic. And of course you don't have to use a pattern at all. Again, this is just what I do.

To be clear, I don't tend to literally count out the syllables, you can feel what the rhythm is by saying the poem out loud (which you should do FREQUENTLY as you write to make sure the emPHAsis doesn't go ON the WRONG word). There's poetry terms for emphasis but I don't know them because I only did up to AS level poetry 😉

If you ever find the rhythm isn't working, change it. It's your poem. Do whatever you want. Changing the rhythm can also be used to show "this is a change/escalation in idea". It's a song with a bridge.

4. Keep talking about different parts of the metaphor in that structure:

"The tentacles writhing

(I chew, I chew)

A battle,

A hunt for the truth.

The hinge of my jaw

(It hurts, it hurts)

Unkindly,

I stick in my tooth."

^ I often slip into rhyming, this also helps not get stuck thinking of literally any word from the english language that could be used. As Monica from FRIENDS says, "rules help control the fun!"

"The [something] of muscle,

(My tongue? Its leg?)

My burden,

My begging for proof."

^ my close personal friend square brakets when I can't think of a description this instant! Wooo!

"[Some sort of 5th stanza that has an end rhyme for proof, maybe with the "salt and copper" concept?]

I'm eating an octopus

(Live)

But I'm winning

It's hard, but it's worth it, the fight."

^As you can see I added an extra syllable for the second to last line, you gotta just listen to your heart sometimes. When ending things I like to harken back to the beginning! It can be a little cheesey sometimes but that's okay, poems are allowed to be cheesey!

That's my general approach. Something that really, really helps with writing poetry is also... reading poetry. You get to experience a lot of rhythms and rhyme schemes and ways of talking about ideas and how different poets use the foundation of a poem to express their meanings. Reading this poem back, I was writing spontaneously but I can very clearly see influences of A A Milne (my mum's favourite poet!), The Jellyfish by Marianne Moore and my dear friend @lesbianjoannaharvelle 's poem I wish I could draw for the theme of wrestling with creativity. Our works are in conversation! Isn't that cool!!

Anyway. Kiss kiss.

[melrosing]

Do you have any thoughts on the Azor Ahai prophecy?

sorry this took a while, I haven't really written much about this in the past so I don't have the relevant shit to hand in the same way. but my thoughts under the cut; conscious this is a contentious issue, so whilst I'm happy to chat about it, pls be normal if engaging.

I think it’s Jon. That doesn’t really get me excited or make me feel anything tbh, I guess because Jon is my least favourite major POV and the Azor Ahai prophecy isn’t one that interests me a whole lot. But I think the only real candidates for Azor Ahai are Jon and Dany, and based on both narrative structure and evidence within the story, I feel fairly confident it’s Jon.

Ofc, the argument for Dany being AA is strong and I think that’s the point. She ticks all the boxes, indeed more than Jon currently does, and the birth of her dragons is pretty much the most fantastic event in the story. She’ll surely have a huge role in ending the Long Night too, so Dany really does fit the bill.

But imo the structure of the story, and of their own personal arcs, favours Jon. I’ll quickly go through why I don’t think it favours Dany.

First off, rules of three: I think it was GRRM’s editor who told us that he likes rules of three in his writing. He makes you think one thing is true, then appears to provide the true solution, before the real answer emerges later on and completely throws you. There are lots of examples of GRRM using this technique in ASOIAF, but let’s go for another example that directly concerns Jon himself: the question of who his mother is.

The first answer we get is a basic one: Ned got Jon on a sex worker, and that’s that. We already know that’s near certainly not the case, because consciously or subconsciously we know that’s not how stories work. Second answer, Jon was born of an affair between Ned and Ashara. This idea is more interesting, has more supporting evidence, and we come across other characters who claim it’s true, like Edric. But still, I think a lot of people (even if they didn’t know R+L=J) would think that still doesn’t feel like the end of it. The closure has come too soon, and it doesn’t have the surprise factor that we know it’s supposed to have. It’s just clean.

Then of course the true answer is one that we still haven’t learnt yet: Ned isn’t even Jon’s father, and his mother is Lyanna, and Jon is the ‘true heir to the 7K’ etc etc etc. I think we’re all extremely used to this information now, but apart from the overwhelming evidence, we accept it because narratively it makes sense. This is the secret third thing, where everything clicks into place in a surprising way and has massive implications for the rest of the story. Rule of three. 

I think the same applies to Azor Ahai. First, we’re told it’s Stannis. He ticks most of the boxes, albeit in a really haphazard way, but we know it’s not Stannis because we know how stories work. Then we’re presented with Dany as the answer. This seems to add up really well: she ticks the boxes far more literally - smoke, salt, bleeding star - and characters like Aemon are convinced it’s Dany.

But I think we run into the same problem here as we do with Ashara. The closure’s come too soon, everything fits too neatly, and honestly it lacks the surprise factor. Dany may be a surprise Azor Ahai to the rest of her world, but she isn’t to the reader: we’ve seen what she’s capable of, and if we were told that Dany is going to save the world, most good faith readers would be like ‘well yeah if anyone’s gonna do it’. And so ironically, that’s how you start to get the feeling it isn’t Dany. It sounds painfully self-contradictory, yeah, but it’s the same as it works with Ashara. Consciously or subconsciously, we know how stories work.

So Jon is the third answer. Jon is intended as the surprise, where he didn’t even seem like a contender, is really just some guy. Except he isn’t. To make sense of this, you really have to forget how obvious R+L=J seems to all of us now, bc time and again GRRM has said he didn’t intend it as obvious, and actually seems a bit frustrated how many people had worked it out - even before the show got to make the reveal. 

Pasting at this juncture the key details of the prophecy:

When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. DAVOS III, ASOS

So Jon is descended from Jaehaerys II and Shaera, as the Ghost of High Heart said TPTWP would be. He is indeed a prince, even if he doesn’t know it. When Melisandre looked for Stannis as TPTWP in the flames, she saw ‘snow’. Jon’s story is the one that most directly concerns the fight against TLN; Dany currently has the potential for the most impact, yes, but at the moment she has absolutely no idea what’s going on beyond the wall, and it’s Jon trying to unite the 7K against the Others. This makes him the strongest thematic fit for the hero who will ultimately end TLN.

Then we have the fact that there are two major things about Jon’s story that have to mean something. 1: Jon is the ‘true heir’ to the 7K, the one no one saw coming, that everyone thought was a nobody. Jon was born of the union between Rhaegar and Lyanna that only a dead man and Howland fucking Reed (likely a man with his own knowledge about the TLN, the Children and the Others) know about. Jon was the child Rhaegar somehow knew he had to have (the ethics of that aside…), that made him realise the prophecy wasn’t about him but someone else. Within the story of ASOIAF, this is seismic. It’s no good to say that Jon’s true heritage is nothing more than a political subplot, that’s not how stories work and it’s certainly not how GRRM writes.

And 2: Jon is going to be fucking resurrected. No, he’s not the first character to come back - Beric and Catelyn both got there before him. But if there’s one thing we can be sure of, Jon is coming back for a reason. We saw how ridiculous it is in the show for Jon to just come back to life and get on with everything like normal. Everyone was asking well why the fuck did he need to die in the first place then. To give him an excuse to leave the Night’s Watch? lol. Nah Jon is going to be reborn for a specific reason. Cannot emphasise enough that it is not GRRM’s style to kill Jon for nothing more than dramatic effect.

And who is going to rebirth him? Melisandre. What is the significance of Melisandre? Fucking everything. Melisandre has not been placed at the Wall to get the prophecy wrong AGAIN. She has been placed at the Wall because that is where the answer is. If Jon is the POV most focused on the TLN and the Others, Melisandre is the POV most focused on the AA prophecy. She is the one trying desperately to solve it, and whose revelation we are awaiting because once again, that’s how stories work: we know that Melisandre is wrong right now, so we anticipate the moment she will be right.

So Melisandre seeing ‘snow’ in her flames means something. Melisandre’s weird connection to Jon means something. Melisandre being the one who, seemingly without knowing it, has been preparing Jon for rebirth since about halfway through ADWD - means something also. R’hllorism and its weird connection to the AA prophecy means something. Melisandre and Ghost both having red eyes, with all the rest in mind, also seems to mean something.

Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost's eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. JON VI, ADWD

And right there’s the fact that Melisandre is the ‘red star of the prophecy’. Everyone thinks it’s the red comet, which we see identified in the ACOK prologue as the ‘bleeding star’ named in the AA prophecy. You know who’s also introduced in that chapter. Fuckin Melisandre. Melisandre and the ruby she wears are alternately described as ‘red’ and ‘star’ - sometimes both together:

Melisandre's ruby glowed like a red star at her throat. DAVOS VI, ASOS

So here’s Melisandre, red as hell, explaining the prophecy. Notice how much she herself seems to embody the imagery of the prophecy - red, flames, blood, burning, etc.

Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. "In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." DAVOS I, ACOK

So we come to the ‘bleeding/red star’ aspect of the prophecy. Smoke and salt are easy enough to come by, but a star is a more specific requirement. As is a birth (or rebirth). Dany seemed to tick these boxes with the smoke of the pyre, the great salt sea, the birth of her dragons/her figurative rebirth, and the red comet. 

But I think the bleeding/red star is more likely Melisandre and/or her rubies. How either end up bleeding I can’t say, but it’s not hard to imagine. Does Melisandre destroy her ruby to revive Jon, or use her own blood? Maybe she has to die to do it, leaving Jon none the fucking wiser when he awakens what her reason for reviving him even was. That would be fitting: I think Jon won't understand his own significance for some time yet.

Either way, we have our star: Melisandre has been looking everywhere for one, never knowing it was she herself. This is actually a great beat for Mel’s story - for all the times she’s appeared all knowing, she was missing the woods for the trees, and her own significance in it all. It’s tragic, too, because that revelation is perhaps also one of her own demise.

(sidenote: I also think it's more fitting [and more likely] that the decision to burn Shireen and indeed the idea to do it is Stannis' own. in desperation, he attempts to fulfil what he recalls of Melisandre's methods, but butchers everything in doing so.)

Next we need smoke and salt, and as mentioned, those are straightforward. We’ve been told the Wall has plenty of salt lol, and light a few candles and you’ve got smoke - not to mention Melisandre loves a bit of fire, so figures there will be smoke involved in Jon’s rebirth either way. So salt and smoke both sound like pretty standard ingredients for a resurrection, I don’t think it’s much worth elaborating.

Then what’s left? ‘A birth/rebirth a day after a long summer’, check, we’re told again and again through ADWD that we’re on the brink of winter. ‘When the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world’, check again - Jon is right there on the scene. 

The flaming sword comes after the rebirth, but it’s a given that Jon will wield one - it’s right there in his dreams:

Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. ADWD, JON XII

(another sidenote: look, a song of ice and fire. I’m aware that GRRM has previously stated that Dany’s fire and the battle against the others are the titular ice and fire, because he’s sure not going to say ‘by the way it’s also Jon’ when he hasn’t revealed anything about Jon yet. But we know that Rhaegar anticipates a child who embodies ‘the song of ice and fire’, and you cannot associate Dany with ice. Dany IS fire.)

I think Jon probably already has Lightbringer, and it’s Longclaw - we see that Ghost is tied in with the red of it all, and who is atop the sword but Ghost. Valyrian steel obviously also has some fantastical role still to play, and it’s notable that Jaime envisions he and Brienne also wielding flaming Valyrian swords (their flames are blue, of course, and Jaime doesn’t know in the dream that the blades are Valyrian, but the point stands that there’s some connection between flaming swords and Valyrian steel going on, and that that all ties to TLN).

So all that’s really left is to wake dragons from stone. This is one where I can’t really guess what it’ll mean - my best guess is that Jon will find dragonsteel at Dragonstone, because even if he did somehow hatch further dragons they’d be damn babies for the duration of the Long Night, but really this part could point to something we can’t yet guess at, so whatever.

And finally, there’s Jon’s heritage. The Targaryens are tied to the wielding of fire, to Valyrian steel, and to dragons. The Starks are tied to winter, to the Wall, to the old gods and the North. Jon’s heritage is representative of the two forces that need to unite to overcome the Others. 

I don’t want to get into how exactly Jon ties into the mythos of the Night King and what undead Jon might look like, because whilst there’s plenty in there that no doubt ALSO supports the prophecy, I freely admit I just haven’t looked into it all that much bc it’s not a passion point for me, so I'm not going to seriously try. But we do have this part from Benerro's prophecy:

death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her [referring to Dany as TPTWP] cause shall be reborn... ADWD, TYRION VI

You can make this really figurative to get it to work for Dany, but it would make a lot more sense for Jon. He'll rise from the dead (death itself will bend the knee) and 'all those who die fighting in [TPTWP's] cause shall be reborn' - hey just like the Others are. Is Jon somehow going to have his own army of the undead? Possibly.

So, cumulatively:

Jon will unite ice and fire, armoured in ice and wielding a flaming sword

Jon’s Stark and Targaryen heritage are figuratively significant

Rhaegar foresaw the significance of Jon. Rhaegar has been wrong in a lot in all senses of the word, but I think he’s going to be right on this point - on ONE fucking point

Jon will be reborn a day after winter comes

Jon will be reborn beneath a bleeding red star

Plenty of scope for salt and smoke to be involved

Jon will wield a flaming red sword

Jon will be on the ground as darkness approaches and lead the charge against it

Jon will make death bend the knee

Jon may lead an army of the 'reborn'

Melisandre is the POV with the greatest fixation on the Azor Ahai prophecy, and Melisandre is beginning to realise the significance of Jon + will be responsible for bringing him back

Jon is the Secret Third Thing

etc etc 

And finally, bc I’ve seen many, many heated arguments over this, I want to establish some things myself before signing off:

I am engaging in good faith here. I have come to these conclusions through reading the books and considering all sides, and think this is a very legitimate reading of the text

This resolution to the prophecy is not something I am invested in. Jon hardly makes my top 20 characters in ASOIAF, and Azor Ahai is not a prophecy I crave an answer for. I’m a lot more interested the southern storylines (in case you couldn't tell)

Dany, meanwhile, is a character I like about five times as much as I like Jon. I’ve not reached the conclusion I have because I think she’s not capable of being AA (currently, I think she’s a whole lot more capable than Jon). I’m only judging based on where I think the story and evidence gestures

I agree that there’s potentially problematic subtext in introducing Dany, a young girl who subverts the typical ‘chosen boy’ narrative by fighting every adversity to be a hero for the ages, [edit - forgot the other half of the sentence orz] only to say actually nah it was special boy Jon all along. It’s difficult to say exactly how egregious I’m going to find it when that comes to be because I don’t have the material to judge, but I fully understand why people find the idea of Jon Snow as AA such a deeply frustrating idea, and I may well share in that frustration when it comes to it

Again: I’m engaging in good faith, so if you want to discuss, please afford me the same. We are discussing a fantasy series

[wavypotatochips]

Hey girl, love your writings especially the Mbappe's ones. So maybe can I request one for him where he and the reader go shopping for their new home together and have the best time? Thank youuuu

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

Word Count : 2.2k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: My allergies have been terrible this week, and I've been sneezing so much that I've been getting headaches, so instead of writing 3-4 request , I was only able to write 2 this week c': hopefully my writing is still good c': ANYWAYSSSS This is my favorite gif of Mbappe- he is such a cutie patootie. Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

It's a beautiful Saturday morning, and you wake up feeling excited for the day ahead. Today, you and your boyfriend Kylian are going shopping for items to decorate your new house. You and Kylian recently bought a house together and you are both eager to make your home feel more comfortable and homely. You know that Kylian will be waking up soon, and you want to surprise him with a delicious breakfast. You head to the kitchen to see what ingredients you have on hand. As you start rummaging through the fridge, you notice that you have some eggs, cheese, and bacon. Perfect! You decide to make an omelet and bacon for the two of you. You take out a frying pan and place it on the stove, turning the heat to medium-high. You start cooking the bacon in a separate pan, savoring the sound and smell of it sizzling. As the bacon cooks, you start preparing the omelet. You crack four eggs into a bowl and whisk them together. You then add a pinch of salt, pepper, and some shredded cheese to the eggs, and stir everything together. Once the bacon is cooked to your liking, you take it out of the pan and place it on a plate lined with paper towels. You then pour the egg mixture into the frying pan and start cooking the omelet. You wait for a few minutes until the bottom of the omelet starts to set, then fold it in half with a spatula.

As the omelet continues to cook, Kylian enters the kitchen with a sleepy smile on his face. "Good morning, love," he says, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, wrapping his arms around you. "Good morning, sleepyhead," you reply, grinning at him. "I'm making breakfast for us." Kylian's eyes light up at the sight of the bacon and omelet. "It smells amazing," he says, kissing your temple once more before sitting down at the table. You place the omelet and bacon on a plate, along with some buttered toast, and bring it over to the table. You both start eating, enjoying the delicious meal and each other's company.

“So I was thinking we could go to the new Plaza a couple minutes from here and stop at Ikea maybe for furniture stuff,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. 

"And we should also get some plants for the balcony." Kylian says, taking a bite of the omelet. "This is so good, baby. You're an amazing cook." You smile at the compliment and decide to tease him a little.

"Thanks Babe. Please keep in mind that I'm the only one who is permitted to cook due to what happened the last time."

You wink at him and take another mouthful while he glares at you. The last time Kylian attempted to surprise you with supper, he accidentally burned the turkey in the oven, and when you got home, the whole house was smoking.

He jokingly whines, "Hey it was a one time thing, I'm a new man now," making you laugh. After finishing breakfast, you both clean up the kitchen together, feeling grateful for this moment of shared domesticity. You know that cooking and eating together is one of the many ways you show love and care for each other, and you feel happy knowing that you have each other to share these small but meaningful moments with. After breakfast, you and your boyfriend Kylian get ready to go shopping for items for your house. As you both start getting dressed, you realize you haven't really discussed what you're going to wear.

You turn to Kylian and ask, "Hey, what are you planning on wearing?." Kylian laughs, "I don't know……. I know the weather is nice outside so maybe we can wear white and navy?" He is aware that you inquired about his outfit because you frequently tried to coordinate with him; he thinks it's cute. You nod in agreement, "Okay, that sounds good to me! I'll put on my white jean shorts and that navy polo shirt I got."

Kylian smiles, "You are going to look so beautiful." You both finish getting dressed and head out the door, making sure to grab your phone and wallet. As you walk to the car, Kylian asks, "What stores are we hitting up first?" You reply, "I was thinking we should start with the home goods store" Kylian nods, "That's a good idea. We need some new plates and glasses."

As you drive to the store, you discuss what styles and colors you want to go for with the new home items. Kylian suggests getting some brighter colors to liven up the space, while you suggest sticking to more neutral tones for a classic look.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and wait patiently in the car as Kylian gets out and walks around the car to unlock your door. You could have easily just opened the door yourself, but Kylian dislikes it when you do it since he likes to act like a "gentleman." As  you watch him open the door, you smile and say, "Thank you, handsome." "Anything for m'lady," he says in a strange accent as he smiles and winks at you. This makes you laugh. After you lock the car, you grasp his hand and start to walk together.

As you and your boyfriend Kylian walk into the home goods store, you feel a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbling up inside you. You've been dreaming of decorating your new home together ever since you moved in a few weeks ago, and now you finally have the chance to make it a reality. Kylian takes your hand as you wander down the first aisle, his eyes scanning the shelves for inspiration. "What do you think about this?" he asks, holding up a set of brightly patterned throw pillows.

You take a closer look, running your fingers over the soft fabric. "I like them," you say, "but I think maybe something a little more neutral would be better. We don't want the living room to be too busy." Kylian nods in agreement and sets the pillows back on the shelf. "Good point. What about these curtains?" he asks, pointing to a set of deep blue panels. You consider them for a moment, picturing them hanging in your front window.

"I like the color, but I think we should go for something a little more lightweight. We want to let in as much natural light as possible." Kylian nods again and continues down the aisle, his eyes scanning the shelves for more inspiration. As you follow him, you catch sight of a set of silver candlesticks, their delicate curves glinting in the fluorescent light. "Oh, those are beautiful," you say, reaching out to pick them up. Kylian turns back to you, his eyes lighting up as he sees the candlesticks in your hands.

"Yes! Those would look great on our dining room table. We could get some white taper candles to go with them." You could tell that Kylian is enjoying this just as much as you do. You smile, nodding in agreement and set the candlesticks in your basket, feeling a sense of satisfaction as you do. This is what it's like to make a home together, you think to yourself. To build a space that's uniquely yours, that reflects your personality and your style. As you and Kylian continue to wander through the store, your basket gradually filling up with pillows, curtains, and other household items, you feel a sense of contentment settling over you. This is where you're meant to be, you realize. With Kylian, in this new home that you're building together.

To avoid having to carry the bags around continually after checking out, you and Kylian take the luggage to the car before returning to the shopping center and entering a different store. Kylian wastes no time in heading over to the men's section, his eyes scanning the shelves for something that catches his eye. "What about this?" he asks, holding up a bright red button-down shirt.

You take a look and give him a sly grin. "You'd definitely stand out in that," you tease.

Kylian rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's enjoying the banter. "Okay, okay, what about this?" he says, holding up a more subdued navy blue polo shirt.

"That's more like it," you say, giving him a nod of approval.

As Kylian continues to peruse the men's section, you head over to the women's side of the store, your eyes scanning the shelves for something that catches your eye. You pick out a few items and make your way to the fitting rooms, where Kylian is waiting for you.

"How does this look?" you ask, stepping out in a flowy floral dress. 

Kylian's eyes light up as he sees you. "Wow, you look amazing," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. You can feel a flush rising to your cheeks as you spin around, admiring yourself in the mirror. "You think so?" you say, feeling a sudden surge of confidence.

Kylian nods emphatically. "Definitely. You should get it." As you continue to try on different outfits, you and Kylian trade opinions and jokes, enjoying each other's company and the fun of trying on new clothes. By the time you're ready to check out, your arms are full of bags and your hearts are full of joy. As you walk out of the store, Kylian takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. "As much as I love shopping with you, I would love some frozen yogurt in my stomach," he says, a wide smile spreading across his face as he nudges his head towards the nearby froyo. You nod in agreement, “Oh my gosh yes I haven't had frozen yogurt in so long!,” you happily say. The brightly lit store with colorful toppings and various flavors of yogurt make you feel happy and cheerful. Kylian heads straight to the toppings bar, and you follow suit, picking up a cup and filling it with your favorite flavor of yogurt. Kylian piles on the toppings, from chocolate chips to fresh strawberries to whipped cream.

"Looks like someone has a sweet tooth," you tease, grinning at him.

Kylian chuckles, "You know it."

As you both settle down at a table, you can't help but feel grateful for moments like this. Simple moments where you can enjoy each other's company and have fun. Kylian takes a spoonful of yogurt and looks over at you, his eyes shining with mischief. "I have an idea," he says.

"What's that?" you ask, intrigued.

"We should have a taste test. We'll try each other's yogurt cups and see who has the better combination of toppings," Kylian suggests.

You laugh, "Oh, it's on."

For the next few minutes, you both take turns trying each other's yogurt and ranking them. The chocolate chips and strawberries combination was your favorite, and Kylian loved the gummy bears and sprinkles on top of yours. As you finish up your yogurt, you both feel a sense of joy and playfulness. You enjoy being with each other and having fun together.

"I would say our shopping trip has been successful," you say, feeling grateful for the day spent with him.

Kylian grins, "It definitely has been. I love spending time with you, every moment with you is special."

As you both head out of the store, hand in hand, you can't help but feel grateful for the love and happiness in your life. Moments like this, no matter how simple, will always be cherished.

Later at night, you sink down onto your bed with a contented sigh, feeling tired but happy after a day spent with your boyfriend Kylian. Even though you promised to stay up and wait for Kylian to finish his shower, the exhaustion was starting to get to you.

You can't help but smile as you think back to the fun you had shopping for clothes and new furniture together. As you kick off your house slippers and snuggle under the covers, you replay the day's events in your mind. You remember how Kylian had helped you pick out the perfect outfit. You remember how you had found the perfect accent pillow for your living room, and how Kylian had been there to give his opinion and help you choose the right one.But what you remember most is the laughter and joy you shared together. The silly moments of trying on outrageous outfits, the playful banter as you compared your decorating styles, and how could you forget about the delicious frozen yogurt. As you close your eyes, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you. You are grateful for Kylian and the love and companionship he brings into your life. You are grateful for the fun you had today and the memories you created together. And you are grateful for the quiet moment of reflection before you drift off to sleep. You snuggle deeper into your pillows and blankets, feeling your body relax as you let go of the day's stresses. You are ready to rest, to recharge, and to wake up tomorrow feeling refreshed and ready for whatever comes your way.

With a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your heart, you drift off to sleep, knowing that no matter what tomorrow brings, you and Kylian will face it together, with laughter and love in your hearts.

[cutepresea]

I'm a bit later than usual but...Shirabe Meshi chapter 36, first half. All right.

Kirika and Shirabe are leaving SONG's sub after a rough training session. They discuss going home to eat when they smell smoke coming from somewhere nearby and find Fujitaka

They ask what he's doing and he mentions that he can't get the grill to stay lit. He says he wanted to eat his fill of "sakana" after work. Kirika takes it as 魚 (fish) while Shirabe understands it as 肴 (snacks you eat with alcohol) and he goes on to explain that Leiur's little sister occasionally brings them fish

This time she brought so much Pacific saury that the cafeteria couldn't use it all so they handed some out to the staff and now he's trying to cook his.

Shirabe still doesn't understand why he's cooking it here, so he starts complaining that lately neighbors find smoke bothersome and you can't even barbecue in your own yard these days and the girls realize pretty quickly he's been drinking. Turns out both Kirika and Shirabe's understanding of the word sakana were correct

The subject of the rant shifts to how they've been investigating the remnants of the Illuminati, trying to track down the illegal Alca-Noise, they process all sorts of information from dawn 'til dusk and it never ends, and even now the Noise still keep mysteriously appearing, but THEY keep using their Gears for whatever they like such as cooking (Kirika: "We caught a stray out of nowhere!") so just a bit of relaxation to recuperate would be nice

The girls realize that they gotta get that fire going and make some grilled fish to cheer him up, and by "they" of course that means Shirabe

Poor girl can't catch a break these past few chapters

She asks what the situation with the grill is and Fujitaka says he just wadded up some documents they didn't need anymore and lit it but the fire keeps going out almost immediately

Shirabe goes on to explain that you need to make preparations and take the proper steps to use a grill properly

Since they don't have any sort of fire starter, she says to twist paper into a rod shape (newspaper is recommended), place those around the bottom and put the charcoal in a circle on top of that, then light the paper.

She also says you should prepare the fish by sprinkling salt on each side and letting it sit for 15 minutes before wiping off the water that's drawn out by the salt

Kirika is impressed by the fire and Shirabe explains that it's called the Nishioka method of starting a fire. Basically by arranging the paper and charcoal the way she did, oxygen can flow from the vent at the bottom to the top, and the fire will burn more easily

As Fujitaka gets excited over the grill finally being lit, Tomosato interrupts "Ahh! You're burning them!"

Apparently they were documents they still needed but she had mistaken them for stuff related to...the mixers she goes to (Kirika asks if it's even okay for them to be hearing this)

...But Tomosato acknowledges it was entirely her fault, so she'll just reprint them, asking if it's okay to burn the papers that she has with her. Afterward, Fujitaka asks her if she'd like to join him.

10 minutes later she's also drunk, complaining about how the men at the aforementioned mixers start giving her weird looks when she explains that her work is confidential so she can't talk about it and Fujitaka starts sympathizing with her saying he knows how it is from his own neighbors

As all this is going on, Kirika and Shirabe are by the grill commenting on their drunkenness

But then someone else cries from somewhere "Ahh! You're burning them!"

And that's where the first half ends

[landwriter]

Hi, hello,

I'd like to hear something about the skin wip

Hi, hello! Skin is my actual Lighthouse AU after someone sent me this super funny ask registering their displeasure with my choice of fandom for the Seventies SF AU, named Lighthouses. I'm very easily encouraged. Even when being discouraged for something I'm not actually doing. I laughed about doing one and then went and wrote in Untitled 1:

Lighthouse Keeper AU - Hob is lighthouse keeper, Dream is human or else eldritch sea creature - or SEEMS human but is a selkie/changeling who will return? Either star-crossed romance or like, gothic romance - lots of gay sex and desire and the sea, old-timey language, lanterns, etc, wailing wind, Forbidden Acts Isolation, alienation from other men, being Slightly Off, loneliness, exploring where you shouldn’t Hob fucks selkie who is also Dream?? Why would Dream be lighthouse keeper? Maybe he murders them but like, Hob found his skin or something and he has to pretend to be a human lighthouse keeper Hob finding journal entries suggesting imminent and terrifying demise of former keepers, can link them to Dream in some way

I also wrote 'all dialogue should be in iambic pentameter' but we'll pretend I didn't.

What can I say about it? I think it can be best described by the fact I scrolled through the WIP as it is now, a collection of scraps and research curios and a couple half-written scenes, and came across:

Beware the shore on haar and hoolan night, beware the sea of star-lost whalers’ plight

Which I have no, and I mean NO recollection of writing, but has no results when I google it. That's sort of the energy I want for the whole thing. Gothic horror fever dream. Claustrophobia and a locked-room mystery. Men driven to terror and mad loneliness and violence. Letters that arrive too late. Thievery and suspicion and revenge. Greed and possession. Becoming/loving the monstrous.

Some of the notes I evidently left myself that don't read as unhinged at allllll under the cut, if you want to read more about it still:

Smalls lighthouse - great oak stilts slime!!! rocks!! smoking! salt water wind, stabbing kind of rain, the way wind buffets first and moisture on it secondary, white waves, seabirds hanging in the air like mobile above a crib, carving with a knife, bleeding - nicking finger, dream looking over as he sucks it - is whittling the selkie/monster form alcohol maybe something weird where dream refuses alcohol and hob finds out something wrong with their water supply - dream is just drinking saltwater hob giving season of the mists style toast sailors have used tobacco pouches made from sealskin ‘where did you put my skin? where did you put my skin?’ bonding over lost sons hob sends pigeon or message otherwise thanking for relief, noting supply shortage, or smthn. days later gets message back being like, no relief sent. protean forms - changing easily - from god proteus - a protean selkie?? Fiddler's Green is an after-life where there is perpetual mirth, a fiddle that never stops playing, and dancers who never tire. In 19th-century English maritime folklore, it was a kind of after-life for sailors who had served at least fifty years at sea. important that lighthouse is decaying, used to be nice, now is not gothic theme of ascent/descent with ladder images of death etc claustrophobic, sunless environment, action at night or in fog - no sun imagination over reason

I've never done gothic before and I'm super excited to explore it with this story! I'm going for something like, old and musty smelling, sort of The Terror, lighthouse-edition, except with less death and more monster-fucking. A sluttier The Lighthouse (2019).

[team5ds]

the life among the dead

Summary: "I just think that it's stupid to try to call forth ghosts that could want to harm us! We don't know anything about them."

"I'll keep you safe from ghosts that want to harm you."

Rating: T

Ships: Ryo Bakura/Miho Nosaka

Author’s note: prompt of oujia board for @sapphic-september

read on ao3 / support me on kofi (battle city & up supporters get early access) / join my discord (18+)

Miho pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a loud pop, and raised a brow at Bakura. Her knees sunk into the plush white carpet as she leaned forward, examining the board. "So you want to use this to contact the dead?"

"Well yes," Bakura said with a light laugh, her long, spindly, pale fingers adjusting the Oujia board between them, straightening it out. The lights had been dimmed, and candles lit - a mix of black, white, and purple candles surrounding them in a circle encased in salt. If it weren't for the Oujia board, this might almost be romantic. "Unless you're scared?" She winked at Miho, and she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, it'll be fun. Let's find out what kind of ghost is in the area."

"I'm not scared," Miho half growled, shaking her head. The lavender hair spilled all around her shoulders, and there was a tinge of pink on her cheeks as they puffed up in anger. "I just think that it's stupid to try to call forth ghosts that could want to harm us! We don't know anything about them."

"I'll keep you safe from ghosts that want to harm you," she said with a teasing grin, holding up the planchette with an arched brow. The smoke of the burning sage spun around it, and settled into a misty haze. "Don't you trust me?"

Miho rolled her eyes. "If a mean ghost shows up, I'm throwing you under the bus," she said, settling in. "Fine. How do we do this?"

Bakura placed the planchette on the "G", and indicated Miho placed her hand on hers. They broke eye contact, focusing on the board. "Are there any spirits in here with us?" Miho yelped as it immediately moved to yes. She was shaking like a leaf already, and Bakura grinned at this. "Don't worry. That's a good thing. Ask the ghost a yes or no question."

It took a moment before Miho finally spoke again. "Can you... see us?" The planchette didn't move, and Miho rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you just moved it the first time, didn't you?"

"No, I think the ghost is trying to say that it can see us," Bakura replied, glancing up and around the room. "Let's try asking something more complex... like... hey ghost, what's your name?"

The planchette began to move again across the board - I. D. O. N. O. T. K. N. O. W. "How do you not know your name," Miho objected. "Surely you'd have to know your name!" The spirit spelled out a second message. I. T. H. A. S. B. E. E. N. A. W. H. I. L. E. S. I. N. C. E. S. O. M. E. O. N. E. A. S. K. E. D. "So you're an old spirit?" The force of the planchette moving to "yes" unsettled Miho, and she glanced at Bakura with a wide eyed look. "I see."

"Did you die here," Bakura asked, and the planchette snapped over to "no" in seconds. "We've contacted a fairly powerful spirit, it seems. Do you remember how you died?" The planchette snapped over to YES, then spelled out, M. Y. V. I. L. L. A. G. E. W. A. S. D. E. S. T. R. O. Y. E. D. "So you died when your village was destroyed?" It snapped immediately to NO, then began spelling out a new message. I. D. I. E. D. M. A. K. I. N. G. T. H. E. P. H. A. R. A. O. H. P. A. Y. F. O. R. I. T. "You're from Egypt?" YES.

Miho gasped, pulling her hands away from the planchette. "Make it stop," she cried out, shaking her head with her eyes full of tears. "Bakura, I'm scared!"

Bakura forced the planchette to the goodbye and lifted it up immediately, glancing up at Miho. She'd been so excited to make contact with a ghost that she hadn't checked in with Miho at all. She was shaking still, and Bakura moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her. "It's okay," she said softly. "The candles and salt should protect us from the ghost lingering. I closed the board out. It's fine."

She glanced up at Bakura, unconvinced. "That spirit... it was angry. I could feel it."

"I told you that I'd keep you safe, didn't I? You're safe," she said, leaning down to press a kiss to Miho's forehead. "But if you don't wanna touch it again, I understand."

"We have to help that spirit," Miho said forcefully, her tearful eyes now full of fire. "It was angry. We need to find a way to help it move on."

Bakura grinned. "Then let's try again."

[shegatsby]

The Last of Us

Warnings; Post apocalyptic world, mention of suicide. Attempt of suicide!!! Reader be aware!

Words; 1.582K

A/N; Hi guys! Its me again, I'm obssessed with the show so far, let me know what you think. See you later ;) Smut in the next chapters babes.

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Summary; Ever since childhood you had to survive, you were born before the disease so you kinda remembered what was it like, to have a hot shower, clean food etc. You didn’t know what happened to your parents because they were on a vacation and left you with your grandma who passed away during the chaos. You were 10 when it happened, a child who had to be a woman over night. What happens when you are a brink from killing yourself and find purpose again?

Chapter Two- Step by step

Joel woke up to the sun rise, the warm sun was burning his face, when he looked at the small watch on the ground he realized that he only slept for 3 hours. His nightmares kept him waking up over and over again all night, it had been a while since he dreamt of his daughter Sarah. He first sat on the bed, recently waking up and getting himself out to the world was getting pointless. His bare feet touching the cold wood floor, he could feel the dust underneath, he was never good at keeping a house, not that it mattered anymore, but it would be nice to have someone… he thought. Joel stood up to wash his face and get ready for the day ahead. Today was the day, he was going to get the car battery and bounce the hell out of here and find his brother. Something in him wished that it wasn’t today when he looked at the apartment complex standing in front of his building, his eyes searched for her window, she had no curtains and he saw her walking towards her door. Every job started at 6.00 am he quickly got dressed, drank a glass of whiskey and left.

Y/N left her flat to go to her job, it was sunny outside and the smoke from cremation of people turned her stomach, she had to walk fast to reach her office and get inside. Everyday ever since her arrival to this QZ she had the same thing. Wake up, do her job as a seamstress, kindly smile to everyone and end conversations short and go home.  The days were getting heavier and heavier, like the Atlas himself carrying the entire world. As she was sitting down and fixing clothes her eyes were fixed on that old man’s jeans. They were dirty, some parts were covered in dry dirt but they didn’t smell bad, in fact, they smelled like him, rich of salt and something that smelled like man. Strong and demanding. She remembered his presence yesterday, they didn’t exchange too much words but the way he stood tall and his aura was there.

Y/N remembered the first day she arrived, the FEDRA soldiers checked her and others to see if they were infected, one of them was so a single shot to the head and the body dropped to the ground. Even though he was infected they should have done it privately, there were children watching. She flinched with that violent act, her eyes needed to focus on something, or someone to zone out and she found him. Warm brown eyes, he was eating his lunch, sitting on a half broken bank, legs spread.

After that day she was placed to a building, the person who was responsible of bringing new survivors asked if she was good at something and this is how she got her job, her grandmother taught her well. Sometimes she got excited for small things, such as; teaching. In her spare time she used to teach kids how to write and read, she brought few books with her and she could feel herself being happy when she was teaching, unfortunately that spark died away when FEDRA banned her from teaching. They said what she is teaching is against their law and she could get into trouble, trouble as in ‘’dead’’ it had been six months since she came here, even though she tried she couldn’t blend in, she felt like a witch in middle ages, one mistake and she is dead.

A cough brought  her back to the present moment, she looked up to meet the eyes of a stranger but found warm brown ones, the ones that looked like fresh soil after a summer rain. ‘’I was just finishing up.’’ She found herself stutter for some reason, maybe she was caught off guard, ‘’It’s okay. I can wait.’’  He replied shortly. This was their second conversation in six months.  She focused on the task at hand again, even though he wasn’t saying a word she could feel his energy, he has to be a fire sign, she thought but she didn’t ask because no one cared about astrology or planets anymore, all they cared about was eat, sleep, fuck and survive. What really surprised her was that women were giving birth, who would in their right mind to decide to have kids?!

‘’Here you go.’’ She gave the jeans back to him, ‘’Good as new.’’ She smiled gently, daring to meet his eyes and Joel didn’t remember when was the last time someone spoke to him in such soft manner and kindly smiled, it was probably before the pandemic.

He reached to grab the jeans and her hands touched his, even though it was for a split second he felt something, like a long gone emotion that is waking up and moving to the surface. He wanted to thank her but instead he was frozen, he placed the jeans onto his shoulder and put money on the table, it was more than the price, ‘’But that’s too much sir-‘’ she wanted to protest, ‘’Joel,’’ she looked puzzled, ‘’My name is Joel, Joel Miller.’’ He managed to say without being too awkward. She could see that it was out of character for him, explaining himself to someone because he didn’t look the type. Y/N didn’t want to be rude so she extended her hand, ‘’Y/N Y/L/N. Pleasure to meet you.’’  His callused hand took her honey like one, that was his first thought, smooth like honey. ‘’Pleasure is all mine.’’ She heard his accent, he must be from Texas or somewhere close, how did he end up in Boston? It was a question wanted to ask but pulled herself from. There was a moment of silence between them and he left, like a breeze he was gone.

Joel had too much to think, he had to get himself and his friend Tess out of here quickly. Tess was a woman of courage, she could take on any task at hand and do a better job most of the people, she was a good friend to have. Together they came up with the plan to escape and the day was today.

As usual Y/N locked the place up, it was moments before the curfew, it started to rain. She always liked the rain, it cleansed her soul. Tonight was the night, she was going to do it. On her way home she smiled to everyone, made small conversations.

When she reached home she locked the door, poured herself a drink, she placed her useful things on the table for others to use and grabbed a chair, placed it under the ceiling. Weeks ago she found a rope in an abandoned building and took it with her, maybe deep down she knew the purpose of the robe. She could hear the thunder and rain, beating the walls of her home. She drank another glass and another and then tied the robe to the ceiling. She shrugged her shoulder, this way of life… it wasn’t worth it anyway. She finished that bottle, tossed it somewhere she did not care and stepped on the chair.

Joel Miller packedhis bag yesterday, before he left he made sure that he got everything he would need, Tess was at the door waiting with Ellie, yesterday he had to make a deal to take this girl to a Firefly team, it was either that deal or no deal at all so he had to agree, Tess played a huge part in it as well. Now he was stuck with this kid who keep annoys him. ‘’Ready to go?’’ Tess asked, Joel looked from his window to Y/N’s window, her lights were on, ‘’What if we got someone else?’’ he asked to Tess, as soon as he spoke Tess rolled her blue eyes, she got so sick and tired of Joel talking about this girl… ‘’Whatever just make it quick. We will wait you outside.’’ Joel ran outside to get her. For once he felt like luck was on his side, he made sure no one saw him and he walked into her building. When he finally reached her door he was nervous, he would rather face infected than this but he had to. He couldn’t just leave without asking her to come with him, he knew he would resent himself.

He knocked on the door, no voice, no nothing. He knocked again, and again, something was wrong. The door was locked so he stepped back and used his shoulder to open it, the door was smashed to the ground and what he saw shocked him to his core. Y/N was tied to a robe but her neck wasn’t broken, she was struggling to get out. Joel immediately grabbed her by the waist and lifted her to give her some air and with his leg he pulled the chair close to him, at last he saved her. She was coughing really bad and her neck was red, her whole body was shaking, Joel made sure that she was in his arms, on the floor, ‘’Why?’’ he breathed, ‘’Why would you do that to yourself?!’’ he sounded angry and hurt at the same time. Holding her with his big arms, when her coughing declined he gave her some water, ‘’T- thank y-ou.’’ She said shaking, ‘’Get up.’’ He demanded, ‘’What?’’ her voice was so tiny and growling, ‘’We’re leaving. Now.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

Tag List;

@psychomanias

[bra1nwashed]

uhmmmmm so... here's a bunch of swiss headcanons :3

also i admit i stole some of those but i can't give credit cuz i don't remember who 😭

also some of these r just lil scenarios that i'm just like- yeah.

.・。.・゜✭・

⊱⊱⊱ he wasn't really supposed to be summoned. He just crawled up from the pits of hell whenever two of the ghoulettes were being summoned. the reason he was allowed to stay was because he was a rarer type of ghoul (multi).

⊱⊱⊱ when he was still a new ghoul, he got bitten by dewdrop because he called him shorty

⊱⊱⊱ he also tried to jokingly fight mountain when he was new. mountain ended up tossing him to the side like one of his broken drumsticks.

⊱⊱⊱ physical touch and words of affirmation are his main love languages !!

⊱⊱⊱ he purrs the loudest out of all the ghoul[ette]s

⊱⊱⊱ he acts like he doesn't care but getting called a "menace" makes him feel insecure.

⊱⊱⊱ he's actually very insecure about his personality but he always has a smile on his face and tries to stay positive in front of everybody.

⊱⊱⊱ genuinely afraid of communication of his emotions. he's always there for others but gets scared to ask for help or talk to people. because of this, he commonly cries alone in his bedroom or the bathroom.

⊱⊱⊱ he commonly has pretty bad mental health due to his insecurities and such, but he just covers it up to help people stay happy and draw concern away from himself.

⊱⊱⊱ he always tries his hardest to comfort people !!

⊱⊱⊱ he loves to pamper the others to make sure they always feel loved and such.

⊱⊱⊱ he will use really crappy pick-up lines on others just to make them laugh or smile.

⊱⊱⊱ he is a major flirt !!

⊱⊱⊱ he un-ironically loves just dance. he will occasionally force the other ghoul[ette]s to play it with him too.

⊱⊱⊱ whenever he can't sleep he'll turn on music and start dancing around his room in the middle of the night !! once sodo walked in and threw a pillow at him to shut him up (it didn't work).

⊱⊱⊱ he actually commonly hangs out with mountain and they enjoy smoking weed together.

⊱⊱⊱ he calls almost everyone by nicknames or pet names.

⊱⊱⊱ his favorite overall genre is romance !!

⊱⊱⊱ his comfort movies are dirty dancing and moulin rouge.

⊱⊱⊱ he loves musicals.

⊱⊱⊱ he makes random noises all the time (just a whole lotta vocal stims)

⊱⊱⊱ he also sometimes randomly breaks into song (it confuses so many people and he thinks it's funny to see them so put off)

⊱⊱⊱ he's extremely melodramatic, but not in a serious way !! if someone lightly smacks him on the shoulder he might pretend to trip and fall against something and walk around with a fake limp for a few days just as a joke.

⊱⊱⊱ he loves to do makeup !! it doesn't matter whether it's on himself or someone else, he always gets excited to do it.

⊱⊱⊱ loves to cook and is 50/50 when it comes to doing so. he either makes a super delicious meal or almost burns the whole kitchen. he's a little better at baking but not a drastic bit better.

⊱⊱⊱ he loves rice krispy treats !!

⊱⊱⊱ he likes sweet savory the best out of most flavors. sours good to him but he's mostly just eating it for the fruity taste. and he loves salt.

⊱⊱⊱ (going along with the last one) mountain once gave him a salt rock lamp for christmas and swiss got sick and threw up cuz he kept licking it

[surveilenceysystem]

「 MIRAGE 」

Character(s): Ateez x Fem!reader

Synopsis: The past is often times better left in the past. But what happens when it holds the key to the future.

Trope: Hero's journey

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi, Action.

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1: Lingering habits

Trigger Warning: Smoking, Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Physical and mental illness, brief mentions of death, Mentions of a missing person, suggestion of abduction, Angst.

Divider: @cafekitsune

Network: @cromernet , @wonderlandnet , @cultofdionysusnet , @sandsofire

WC: 1k

A/n: I'm doing it I'm finally doing it.

For the past three years Choi San hasn't seen a single day where the sky wasn't darkened by clouds, masking the sunlight with a thick cover of storm clouds that seems intimidating as if it was threatening to bring down the heavens wrath on the land. A fury that the ocean under imitated. Violent sounds of waves breaking against rocks and cliffs and the smell of salt are carried by a cold wind laced with melancholy as he watches the waves crash against the shore, lapping around his Oxfords.

Choi San has been going to the beach every single day for the last three years. In fact, he turned it into a routine to stand by the shoreline as nightfall gradually approached and have a cigarette. His weak resolution actually led to the beginning of this habit; he had once read somewhere that it takes 66 days to create a habit and probably motivated by curiosity or need, he drove the fifteen minutes from his apartment to the beach in order to kick the smoking habit since it seemed especially hard to quit it just like that. Maybe the view would inspire him, he had thought.

That was a mere eight-day attempt. By the ninth day, his commitment to quit morphed to an episode of "self care" during which he would simply sit by the coastline and smoke. What was the reason? He had given it some thought. He was an adult who consciously chose to follow this terrible plan. One cigarette a day, as though it separated him from the rest. Ultimately, it will be fatal for him. One cigarette or an entire pack. Fuck it, it is what it is, the nihilist in him had said.

For him, nothing was truly significant anymore. Given his profession and the circumstances of the past few years, his life has effectively desensitised him to everything. He no longer experiences the happiness he once had. He no longer finds anything exciting. He's just surviving now, not living. using muscle memory to execute the steps. Mentally not quite there. He just came into existence. And nobody would notice his absence if he simply walked into the ocean in front of him. He was very aware of this.

It hadn't always been like that, actually this mindset of his was a recent development. Back then he was the most fun person in the room. He was the guy everyone went to if they needed anything fun. There were times in his life where his friends had woken him up at 2 in the morning and dragged him to a party because it was boring without him apparently. Hours that would go by where he and his friends would just fuck around in an empty parking lot of a store. He used to feel like that happiness would last forever. Well it clearly didn't.

Choi Jongho vanished in the summer of 2019. That day was fresh in San's memory like a new wound. It had been unbearably hot that August day—in fact, the heat and humidity had persisted throughout the whole week. San remembered sitting outside their neighbourhood convenience store with friends—people that day. After a dramatic game of rock, paper, scissors, Jongho lost and was assigned the honour of getting ice cream from the shop that was across the street.

San remembers when Jongho went into the shop, he loudly declared that he would lick each and every ice cream cone before giving it to them. He remembers that when Jongho was threatening them, everyone, even himself, was giggling at how adorable he looked. He remembers that after waiting for a long time, four of them entered the parlour before running out to let everyone know that Jongho was gone from the store.

Everyone initially believed that Jongho left them because he was angry with them. But as soon as the search party was sent out that evening, that theory was promptly abandoned. Despite the efforts of local volunteers, friends from university, and Jongho's parents, no one was able to find him. No amount of questioning or searching turned up any information. His case was eventually closed.

For him and the others, everything went downhill after that day. Jongho's parents soon left that town. They chose to leave the place where everything transpired because they were unable to cope with their one and only child going missing. And then it was as if all hell had broken loose. Within the friend circle, fights started to break out. They found a way to harm and accuse one another, whether it was by physical or verbal means. It felt like their very minds were being poisoned by that awful place. And on one day where the fights got particularly violent, Seonghwa had cursed everyone out– no, he outright screamed. His eyes were red from angry tears as he kept screaming how much he hated us. How he was done with everything here. Said that he'd rather die than see our faces ever again.

He left that night for the States.

Two days after Seonghwa's departure, San went apologise to him for everyone and found out about him leaving from the neighbour. It was like a kick to the gut. For something he hadn't even done, he felt terrible. But soon after, the melancholy gave way to anger toward the elder boy. He remembers meeting with everyone and telling them about it. He remembers Hongjoong laughing, saying that Seonghwa was a coward and all he could do was run away from problems. He remembers punching Hongjoong so hard that his knuckles felt numb. And he also remembers that was the last time he ever saw any of them.

He had effectively ruined his friendships with all of his friends from his past that day.

So imagine Choi San's surprise when one of those names from the past had suddenly sent him a message.

A message so oddly upsetting that he had finished a whole pack of cigarettes by the shoreline with no care of how his legs and back were wet from the salt water whatsoever.

(00)+419698327: They are reopening Jongho's case and want all of us back in the town for questioning— J.W

[cyberneticlagomorph]

You stare into the empty eye sockets of the long dead dragon's skull and feel it staring back with the sort of awareness that scares you.

You're a necromancer, no stranger to death and what waits beyond it, and even if you weren't your sister is a fucking ghost. You've been able to see and hear ghosts all your life, so why now, why right now does the awful echo of this dragon's life scare you so much?

It's screaming.

A low and far off wail of something in pain, like a rabbit squealing as it is caught in a snare, too stupid with blind panic to know how to free itself. Even if it could free itself, it would die soon of its injuries.

This dragon is already dead, lived and murdered long before even your wives were born and yet in death it is still screaming and struggling against a snare you cannot perceive. Something cold and cruel that cuts and strangles like wire ties the dragon's soul to this place, surrounded by the morbid reminders of its kin and kind.

A tear runs from your ruined eye, the salt stinging as it soaks into your open wounds.

You tear your eyes away from the skull and try not to tremble as you pass through the gates beneath it. The boy you brought with you darts past you in a flurry of excited limbs and collides with a passing monk the way a puppy might greet a familiar friend.

The monk first smiles at the boy, before noticing how filthy and tired he looks. "By the Father, Zeb what happened to you?" the monk exclaims. Upon closer inspection, the monk isn't much older than Zeb, probably 15 or 16 tops, his head shaved down to stubble.

"His name is Zeb then?" You say, your voice still catching on the soot and smoke leftover from last night, your chest hurts and you fear another respiratory infection is on the horizon.

The monk notices you for the first time, his eyes growing into white-rimmed saucers, arms tight around Zeb as he stammers and backs away from you the same way one might back away from a wild animal or a maniac with a chainsaw.

"H... HELP!" Squeaks the little monk in a voice louder than you thought him capable, he clings to Zeb so tightly the younger boy squirms in discomfort.

You stay very still, watching the ranks of Knights pour into the room, leveling swords and spells in your direction. You can only smile, some of the faces in the crowd are painfully young; around Zeb's age or even younger, with their mentors close behind.

One glance at the adults tells you all you need to know, they've heard of you and they've heard that you will not hurt children if you can help it.

So they're using the children as shields.

You keep smiling, choking down the waves of buried rage that flare to life every time you fucking breathe. Having the kids here wouldn't stop you, it's very true that you'd never hurt a child on purpose but you're not above killing people in front of kids if you have to. You could drop every adult in this room before anyone knew what happened, but you promised yourself you'd behave, just this once.

"I'd like to speak with Lord Barnabas, if he's available." You lean back until you're sitting on thin air and fold your hands into your lap as politely as possible. "Tell him the Prince of Hearts wants an audience if that'll get him down here faster, but I'm not going anywhere until I see him."