#things that the golden girls got wrong about Florida

[snowlessknitter]

Blanche: Whatever will we do with him for two weeks?

Rose: Oh there are plenty of things to do down here. We can take him to Disneyworld, the Seaquariam, the Everglades, Rambo.

Dorothy: Rambo?

Rose: The movie, with Sly Stallone.

Sophia: I sat through it twice, you'll love it, he sweats like a pig and he doesn't put his shirt on.

(Note: They refer to Disney World like it’s literally minutes away from Miami, when in actuality Disney World is about 230 miles and at least a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Miami…depending on whether or not you use toll roads. The episode where Dorothy and Sophia go to Disney World and stay in a hotel overnight is much more accurate.)

[neonfretra]

nhl teasm...

my team loyalties immediately dissolve in favor of the funniest possible outcome. florida i will willingly curse you for a game seven sharks interview, vgk you mean nothing to me if it means the yotes sweep you, kraken you mean nothing to me if it means a sharks shutout, the san jose sharks will never be usurped in the chain of preference because they are gods personal sacrificial lamb and every joy they experience is like blood in the water and my heart hungers like a mouthless stomach.

for sake of readability i refer to teams by name here, sorry if this shows up on your favsies team tags </3

every single team WILL be discussed in terms of the sharks . be warned .

nhl teams tier list below the cut because i yap too much for a cute graphic. our conversations arent long but you know what is. its this. dont talk to me at all, actually.

MY teams!!!

San Jose Sharks

san jose sharks u are the only thing that has ever mattered 2 me. pickles cup on the HORIZON and RAPIDLY APPROACHING.

MY GIRLS......!!!!! if you want to love a team make a primer about them. i think of everything hockey relative to the sharks. i can name most of their players.! (it takes me genuine conscious thought to tell apart cmd, drai, lars because of their similar facial hair for reference. luke kunin and justin bailey though NO PROBLEM ^_^)

fighting team through and through! who CARE if we down two and got twenty seconds remaining, players WILL be gunning down the ice...! its always a bit of a shock to watch other teams just kinda. wander about?

people who like winning will tell you that the important part of the sport is winning. wrong! it is HONOR and WHIMSY. and sometimes IMMENSE AMOUNTS OF NIHILISM . i think its good for you to root for a basement team. really gets you out of that winning is everything mentality cause if i got my feelings too wound up about how the sharks performed i would not have a blood pressure measurable by conventional means anymore

also, nothing on this team is permanent. i look at old rosters and can name like. five of them. we made the MOST moves at the trade deadline. every single captain has had trade rumors going around about them. somehow, we are still living on the high of that game seven. you know the one.

there are four people in the lb tag on a good day. if you are joining the sharks fandom hi! ^_^ sorry for takin your favorite guy!

BEST DRESSED TEAM IN THE LEAGUE!!! our logo? CUNT. our teal? CUNT. our cute little teal helmets to go with visiting uniforms? CUNT. our black alternate jerseys? CURSED AS ALL HELL. also, CUNT. over 5% of our wins this season happened in the califin jersey which is to say ONE GAME. and we looked GOOD AS HELL doing it. year one of the team, sharks sold the MOST merch in the league because our logo before the current logo? CUNT.

i think the sharks makes me a worse person.

Seattle Kraken

my first team! ^_^ really awesome and active community on tumblr, i really like the community wide decision to be whimsical through thick and thin, if you want to get into hockey id definitely suggest them !!! sports are a social interest to me <3

also, one of the best dressed teams IMO! LOVE the red accents (& how they use black in their visiting jerseys), and especially a fan of how their goalies gear picks up on it!

also, the pride runs deep team, the put a tentacle on a pride flag dont even need to mention its for hockey team

also, i love their fish toss. the past tense of yeet is NOT yaught.

i recognize a quite a few of their players! unfortunately, quite a few of their players are prone to injury. hope they resign QUITE A FEW OF THEIR PLAYERS. ^_^

Vegas Golden Knights

HEEL TEAM!!! hate them or love them you NEED them for your narratives. and GOLLY do people hate them! this has made me root for them more. haters be strong, but by god i stay stronger xoxo

a team you DEFINITELY need a sense of humor to love publicly tho. this blog SUPPORTS taking weeks if not months long sick leave <- literally a sharks fan, if u arent feeling 100% get your rest AND get your paycheck im so serious

i think they need to DOUBLE DOWN on being the most las vegas thing to ever be outside of las vegas! they got glittery gold jerseys! pyrotechnics on every home goal! the big tacky slot machine! gold helmets! the whole opening segment! vgk become the disney villain team u were always meant to be!

also, tomas hertl is on this team. tomas hertl i miss u. everyone may be mad gm mike grier traded him to a franchise rival but hes a wizard TO ME for getting ltir resident hertl to a team he wanted to be on!!! please win a cup for tommy vgk

sharks exwifes teams

Tampa Bay Lightning

anthony duclair you are just as beautiful as you were the day i lost you ...

also, i am LEGITIMATELY infatuated by their storm jerseys (image from the unofficial nhl uniforms database)

girl i want you so bad

would you believe this jersey personally shot up my opinion of them

Dallas Stars

joe pavelski makes me feel hit song "its over isnt it" from show steven universe emotions. hes THE shark exwife. hes been gone for 5 years (goinf on six!) and every time we play against the stars they keep having long lingering shots on pavs and randomly bringing up how hes SUCH a great player ohhhhh pavs youre the greatest thing we have ever lost... they do this after someone else has scored a goal btw LMAO. i genuinely get surprised when i watch a cast with the stars that ISNT lingering on pavs. have a good retirement pavs <3

the second player i recognized the face of on the stars was mason marchment because he has piercing blue eyes and strikingly dark eyebrows. hes orbs.

i think their plaioffs thing was funny as hell. i dont even read it like. ai as in artificial intelligence, ive been reading pl-eye-offs. theyre funny for that + getting dragged for it, apparently? i hope they do it again (& get dragged again)

im sorry dallas stars for personally cursing you to lose round 2.

im also sorry dallas stars for writing almost entirely about joe pavelski here . he haunts the sharks so bad. i actually did start rooting for the stars because of him though LMAO

HI ID ALSO LIKE TO ADD THAT WE GOT TY DELLANDREAS FROM THIS TEAM! i love snatching everyones beloved players this cant keep happening

my friends teams (that i have imprinted on like a duckling) ^_^ hey speakin of ducks

Los Angeles Kings

BEST PENALTY KILL IN THE LEAGUE! <- dont fact check me

i like making up silly ways of referring to game terminologies and the kings are an endless supply of on theme jokes <3

.i was made fond through word of big save dave and i personally love watching everyone shadow box with the ghost of la kings

i regularly followed them in the regular season ^_^ and then the post season happened .i think i may have cursed them terribly

PLEASE LET YUOR YOUNGER PLAYERS IN . PLEEASDE.

Anaheim Ducks

team i am fond of but never watch the games of because they overlap with every other team i watch LMAO

i was um. also made fond of them through their goalies. i may be predicable. THEE if a goalie makes more than 50 saves in a game and still lose then they have the right to chase they team around with a machete team

but maybe the REAL way to my heart is a team that is healthy (do you remember healthy centers and veteran presence) and law abiding (one of the most penalized teams) that loves doing things like completing passes (um. <3) . which you will

also, witnessed the funniest exchange on one of my posts of like. two or three people? realizin that the ducks new logo is a duck foot

also, i think the seattle series has been one of the most bizarre series of events ive watched by far

Minnesota Wild

you are like an in law to me

TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST. wild is like up there as one of tumblrs popular teams to me! alongside the kraken and. the pens? idk i stay to ONE corner of the internet (the sharks) i think the community is very sweet :)

also, i think the 7-10 game with the canucks was hysterical, that was the only time ive watched back a game and it was worth it 100%

also, i have drawn one of your players with cat ears its OVER for nyall

Edmonton Oilers

i know nothing about your players. darnell nurse 5 own goals i wambt you

ANOTHER TEAM YOU NEED A SENSE OF HUMOR TO LOVE PUBLICLY .! godspeed oilers mutuals yall are like a beautiful ant raft to me. hold on tight together! ^_^

also, we beat the oilers this year and are noted career low for a guy named cmd if you know him . IDK hes a lil underground . so like. >:3

sharks exwives teams the sequel

Calgary Flames

nikita okhotiuk you are the worlds funniest girl to me. gets traded on the trade deadline, plays 9 games total, BREAKS IIHF RESTRICTION TO PLAY FOR CSKA MOSCOW. WORD ON THE STREET THEY STILL WANT HIM BACK. i dont know nothing about the flames otherwise LMAO guys . guys i miss okhie . my turnover princess.... .

i feel like everyone i know has beef with them. um. my beef is that they scored 13 against the sharks that one time in 1993.?

please god stop playin scary

Pittsburgh Penguins

exwife exhead coach/cheerleader david quinn i miss you and your web of connections and networkin like no other...! seriously he knows like. everyone. gets along with everyone and has a strange and unusual beef with sweet cousin kevin labanc. .and hes connectionsing and networkining out there with the pens! ^_^ comin full circle if you even CARE!!!

i root for these teams for absurd reasons

Ottawa Senators

i root for them when idc about who they against because theyre my brother in basement

Nashville Predators

roman josi

i have pavlovs dogged myself into getting hype as hell over him from this image. no i dont want to talk about it

i could not pick him out of a lineup BTW this is the only photo of him i look at

i think they could afford to be even more yellow in uniform

if you asked me to tell you one thing about this team id genuinely run empty

its all goalies and sharks associations . i have nothing to defend myself with here

Carolina Hurricanes: i know like... 3? of your players who are deeply endearing to me and nothing else. yeah one of them is a goalie can you look the other way please (pyotr kochetkov, seth jarvis, brent burns)

Detroit Red Wings: alex lyon is on this team! i miss radim simek . hes not dead we just snatched him off the cuda captaincy and sent him to detroit.

Philadelphia Flyers: they have gritty on this team and also sam ersson!

Arizona Coyotes/Utah Somethings: i thought their yotes logo was the cutest thing :( they matched with the roadies! honestly massively bummed we dont get the yotes on account of WILD as hell management decisions utah somethings is NOT a snub btw, ive seen the sharks cast refer to them as that and i think its really funny. the blue in the uniforms is cute though ^_^

St. Louis Blues: we series swept them! sorry stl anything for tommy

Boston Bruins

Buffalo Sabres

New York Islanders

Vancouver Canucks

Montreal Canadiens

Chicago: i know two different people that said they played better hockey wearing a chicago jersey . their opinions of this differ WILDLY. if you play hockey, consider it. for science.

i regularly forget/confuse these teams

Winnipeg Jets+Columbus Blue Jackets

i forget the cbj exist regularly igm so sorry. i confuse them with the winnipeg jets because i keep thinkin theyre both planes. who i also gorget with astonishing regularity . i dont know nothing about either them beyond that

Florida Panthers

i genuinely have a really hard time telling them and the preds apart????? NOT EVEN THE SAME COLORS BUT OKAY!

darling of the playoffs RN i think! i like the playoffs, everyone gets so mean LMAO

keep fans in your thoughts at this time because BOY HOWDY. THEY NEED IT.

Toronto Maple Leafs

I FIRGOT THEY EXISTED TOO. I WAS SCROLLING NHL DOT COM SLASH TEAMS TO MAKE SURE I GOT THEM ALL AND . THEY ARE AT THE BOTTOM BECAUSE I GORGOT THEM. IM SORRY TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS. also, mario ferraros childhood team ^_^

i dont hate them BUT...

New Jersey Devils

but also one half of an employee mackblack said they had him play before he was totally ready to come back on an injury ONSE TIME!! and ive not trusted them since

also one half of an employee kaapo kahkonen is on this team! he played 6 games, lost 4, got injured in 2, and the only game hes won was his season first shutout.

they have VERY pretty promotional graphics and also eyebrows

a lot of sharks go to the devs and vice versa which is always really funny ^_^ we got at LEAST four devs-to-sharks guys off the top of my head (we traded okhie and got vitek vanecek, maintaining the delicate balance of it all) and the devs got timo mimo. who also got very pretty eyebrows. timo mimo...

New York Rangers

but hey what are they doing to exwife barclay goodrow over therr . when i said i wanted him to win a third cup i didnt mean i needed him to do it in the era of the pickles comeback . his um??? his contract terms???

nyr yuo are nothing to mme and i wish five thousand years of famine upone you . san jose sharks i do NOT think we shoulda been able to do this. its just a workers rights thing hello

Washington Capitals

but CAP FRIENDLY. GIVE IT BACK. actually seething with rage at this new development. you must understand . if you want to love a team make a primer about them. if you want to love accessible databases write a primer.

also WAIT WAIT BEAUTIFUL FAILHORSE PIERRE LUC DUBOIS IS ON THIS TEAM NOW? please make sure you give him a sparkly star sticker if he does well a game and also peel his tangerines for him and also

[concreteprints]

Okay so reader has been friends with Soda for a long time. One day she goes to the Curtis house and finds out about Sandy being a cheating bitch. Her and Steve spend the whole day comforting Soda. Over the weekend she makes up something about needing to go out of town. Reader goes to Florida and, in a crush fueled rage, beats the shit of Sandy's car Carrie Underwood style.

On her way home, let's say an hour and a half from Tulsa, she gets arrested for driving like Dallas and calls Darry to come get her. Darry comes but Ponyboy and Sodapop are in the truck with him. When they get home everything is embarrassing, they find out about the car, and you can decide if soda does anything.

Bust the Windows Out Your Car | Sodapop Curtis x F!Reader Word Count: 1806

Warnings: N/A?

Notes: I'm sorry I'm aware this is bad but this is not usually my thing and I could not proofread it for the life of me. I hope it isn't too bad?

You had been friends with Soda for a while now, since before he dropped out of school. You had hit it off instantly but at the time both of you wanted something purely platonic, so nothing happened and eventually he got a girlfriend. He was hot, funny, and could probably cheer a devil up if he tried hard enough. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, you just weren’t looking for that. By the time your feelings had developed and you realized that you did, in fact, like Sodapop, he had already moved on.

It didn’t hurt you too much. You knew almost every girl he talked to was into him, everyone did. You were genuinely surprised that he was single when you two met.

Even though you were still in school and he was working a full-time job, you two still spent a lot of time together. Whenever you could you would just walk over to the Curtis’ and hang out. You always secretly hoped that Soda would be there when you went (and you were sure at least one of the guys in the gang could tell).

You had another bad day at school. One of those ones where everything that could go wrong, did. You were exhausted and all you wanted to do was cuddle up on the sofa next to him and watch some stupid movie that you had both seen at least a couple dozen times before.

Instead of seeing some boys roughhousing on the couch and nearly knocking over half of the things on the coffee table, you found Steve attempting to comfort an uncharacteristically sad Sodapop. Immediately you knew that something was wrong. Nothing could make Sodapop sad. He was like a golden retriever, even if something bad did happen to him he’d still be his cheerful, overexcited self. Almost like he didn’t understand what had happened or why it was supposed to be upsetting.

“Steve? What happened?” You set your bag down near the door and sat on the other side of Sodapop. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain, so Steve sounded like your best option if you wanted an actual answer.

Steve shook his head with a small sigh. It was strange seeing both of them so down, especially at once. It was almost like their emotions were connected. Sodapop was happy, so was Steve; Sodapop was angry, Steve was angrier; and apparently, if Sodapop was down about something, Steve acted almost as sad as if it had happened to him too.

He lowered his voice, perhaps attempting to say it without upsetting Sodapop too much more. “He just found out that Sandy cheated on him… real down about it right now.”

You couldn’t believe it. You were filled with rage at the same time you were almost empathetically as down as Soda was feeling. You couldn’t believe that someone – Sandy, no less – could have the nerve, the audacity, to cheat on someone like Sodapop. He was loyal, kind, and more than just attractive. He had the looks of a movie star and the charisma to go with it. He was the perfect man in your eyes.

Then again, perfect man or not, cheaters were cheaters. You just hated the fact that you had trusted Sandy, and that Sodapop had trusted her even more. You also hated the fact that, even though he had just found it, she had probably cheated on him dozens of times before now.

Of course you did your best to comfort Sodapop, you couldn’t just leave him like this, but it was hard when he was usually the one cheering up other people. You weren’t sure how to comfort someone who you had never seen this sad before. Who you had never really seen sad before at all.

“Hey Soda, I know it hurts now but it’ll get better. You know it will. You’ll go on and find other girls, but she’ll always be a cheater.” You say softly. You were still avoiding touching him though. You didn’t think it was the time, especially not now that he was newly single and you still had feelings for him. Even if he didn’t necessarily know about your feelings.

You and Steve spent nearly the entire afternoon (going late into the evening as well) attempting to comfort him. Trying nearly everything either of you could think of. You gave him some ice cream, though you didn’t think that really worked for most people; Steve put on his favorite movie; and you two spent the entire night talking and laughing. Yet he was still clearly upset.

Logically you knew that it would take him a while to get over it. He’d been with Sandy for a little over a year. You just hated feeling so helpless being able to do virtually nothing to cheer him up.

Once he fell asleep, you went home. It was nearly 12 now but you had no plans of sleeping. All you could think of was how to get Sandy back for breaking his heart. You spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan. Once morning came, you got in your car and drove a little too fast to be safe. You couldn’t think straight enough to worry about it at the moment. You hadn’t brought more than a change of clothes and some money you had stashed away from babysitting jobs.

You weren’t planning on staying for long. No, if you had any say in it you’d be gone as soon as you were finished. You just didn’t want to be unprepared.

The drive was long and tiring. You tried to distract yourself with music but it didn’t do much. All you could think about it was how angry you were at the moment. 

You felt your knuckles tighten against the leather steering wheel. One of the only things keeping you grounded as you drive. The angrier you got, the faster you went, but eventually you tired yourself out. Giving up and driving more slowly so that you wouldn’t accidentally drive yourself off of the road.

Despite how early you had left, it was still fairly late when you arrived. Running purely on rage, coffee, and not wanting to give up now, you quickly found her car. You were too exhausted to fully complete your plan. You slashed three of her tires, spilt the rest of your nearly scolding coffee on the white leather seats, and keying one side but writing no particular letters. By the time you were finished, you were coming down from that rage-fueled high. You drove yourself to an empty lot and fell asleep in your car. Driving back home now would not be a good idea.

The bright sun woke you up quickly. It was now nearly painfully hot in the car and the fact that you were only going on a few hours of sleep didn’t help you feel any better. You decided to keep on driving. If your parents hadn’t already called the cops, they sure would soon.

By the time you were nearly there, you couldn’t stand it anymore. The anxiety pounding in your head, the fact that you could barely see 10 feet in front of you in the dark, and the realization setting in that what you did was, in fact, very illegal. You weren’t like Dally, and girls didn’t go to jail. Especially not for stuff like vandalizing a car. You anxiously tapped your finger on the steering wheel as you drove. Barely realizing that you kept speeding up until you heard cop sirens from behind you.

At first you told yourself that they couldn’t be for you, but it was much too late for anyone else to be driving. You sighed and pulled over. The officer, noticing how delirious you seemed, decided to take you in.

He didn’t handcuff you and he didn’t even tell you that you were being arrested, but it was still embarrassing. Having to be driven to the police station in the back of a cop car like a common criminal.

Once you got there, he handed you the phone and told you to call someone to drive you home; he wasn’t going to let you drive like that but he didn’t want to see you spend the night in a cell either. You knew your parents would murder you if you called them late in the evening and told them that you needed to be picked up from the police station. So your best bet was calling the Curtis household and praying that Darry didn’t lecture you too awful.

You could immediately tell that Darrel was exhausted when he answered, his voice rough. “Hm? What is it?” He was always polite on the phone, even as tired as he was. He didn’t want to risk it being a social worker on the other end.

“I’m sorry for calling this late Dar but I need to… I need someone to pick me up from the station.” You kept your voice down as you spoke. Even though everyone of the cops obviously knew where you were, you were still ashamed to speak it aloud.

He groaned and you could tell that he was going to scold you later, but thankfully he agreed. Very unfortunately for you, the second they heard your name both Pony and Soda insisted that they come along. You awkwardly slid into the backseat and gave them a glare that told them not to say a word before laying your head down against the back of the seat and instantly falling asleep.

When you woke up you were laying on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around you. Sodapop was sitting on the end of the couch near your feet. Apparently extremely anxious for you to wake up. It wasn’t like you had nearly died or anything. He just wanted to know why and how the hell you had managed to be brought to a police station.

He started talking as soon as he noticed that you were awake. “What is it? What happened? Y/N why were you out that late?!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, it just happened.

You had to come clean eventually. If you didn’t, you knew he would just find out from someone else. “Well I… I went to Sandy’s house and… taught her a lesson.” 

Sodapop couldn’t quite believe it. You had been missing for a little over two full days and it turns out that it was all because you wanted to “teach his ex a lesson.”

“Are you kidding me Y/N?! Yeah she cheated but that doesn’t mean you should’ve done that! Sandy doesn’t deserve that shit!” He shouted before standing up and walking into his room, slamming the door behind him.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[Amherst :: from my files]

* * * *

A very nice piece by a master of his craft, Garrison Keilor:"

I love this September chill in the air. I love sweaters. They hide the age wrinkles on my inner upper arms. A stocking cap means I don’t have to comb my hair. Delicate souls are yearning for Florida and maybe catch a temp job as a consumer influence consultant, enough to pay for a condo with a pool, but not me, I’m not into influence and Florida brings out the bad taste in people and nobody wants to see an old man in a thong bikini. So here I am. 

I like the coffee here. I’ve figured out how the shower works and no longer stand under scalding water because I turned the wrong knob; I don’t want to go to Florida and stay in a motel with a crank for a shower knob and be burned alive while naked. So I’ll stay up North. Here I take a shower, wrap a towel around me, walk into the bedroom and sing, “O my love, my darling, I hunger for your touch.” In Florida, I’d go to the ER. 

The air is golden, smelling of wine and apples and woodsmoke. It takes me back to when I was 15, sitting in the press box and covering the football games for the Anoka Herald, my first paid writing job. And when I was 18 and a girl and I lay in a pile of leaves and made free with each other. Now I’m 80, the sky so clear I can see vast constellations, standing in the yard, aware of the universe and also smelling the rich spongy earth below my feet. An eternity of stars above, including stars that no longer exist but their light still comes to us, and I stand here in mystification, having unlearned so much of what I thought I knew about life, achieving this plain peasant life. It’s a second childhood. Someone told me the other day that “racecar” spelled backward is “racecar.” Amazing.

This is why I quit drinking and got my mitral valve replaced, so I could see beyond the average life expectancy and it’s quite worth the wait, to live in a state of wonder. Writing prose is a form of gardening, which my dad was good at, especially strawberries and asparagus and tomatoes. Store-bought tomatoes tasted like cardboard to him. (Now they taste the same to me.) My aunts Josephine and Eleanor were passionate gardeners. If my essays were as good as their cucumbers and lettuce, I’d be a major success, but frankly I like being a struggling octogenarian up-and-comer. People show me deference because I walk with a cane, and that’s okay, but I live in a very small world. My heroes are dead, my ambition is quite awake, I don’t believe in tragedy anymore, I believe in mystery. 

I am mystified by my grandson and what an excellent human being he has become. He is a bulwark and an inspiration. I had two grandsons but the other one took his own life one afternoon after school. He was a lively inquisitive boy in love with all of nature, especially animals, and had the ability to retain practically everything he ever read, and he’s been gone for five years and I haven’t accepted his death. I will always be mystified by it, as I am by my childhood friend Corinne who paddled a canoe out onto Lake Cayuga one moonlit night in 1986, her pockets full of rocks, and overturned it and drowned. It was thirty-six years ago but still vivid to me, especially tonight. 

Memory is tied to smell and on a September night chapters of life return to mind, unbidden. I’ve forgotten most of the books I ever read. Theology is of no use to me. I’m a child; I believe “All things work together for good to them that love God.” As a boy I used outhouses and now I walk into a men’s toilet and pee in a urinal and step back and it automatically flushes. I walk around with a device in my pocket the size of a half-slice of bread and I can call my grandson for a report on Gen Z or read the Times or do a search for “Success is counted sweetest by those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar requires sorest need.” It’s a sweet world. My beloved sent me out for a walk and here I am, going nowhere, looking at everything all at once."

[Thank you Ian Sanders]

[theojgarcia]

pinterest board

linnea is back to present a second character, basically the opposite of my first lol anyway his name is Dumb, i’m sorry... KIAN MARQUEZ and he is THE RUNAWAY. more about him under the cut !

TV TROPES.

THE RUNAWAY, the hypocrite, the jerkass has a point, smug snake, tall dark and snarky, bruiser with a soft center, the delinquent, the addict, jerk with a heart of gold, tranquil fury, sad clown, stepford smiler, concpiracy theorist, tin man, troubled but cute, loveable rogue.

CHARACHTER INSPO.

marcus lopez (deadly class), theodore nott (harry potter), klaus hargreeves, diego hargreeves (the umbrella academy), nathan young (misfits), jughead jones (riverdale), steven hyde (that 70s show), nick miller (new girl), stiles stilinski (teen wolf)

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER.

More than anything, Kian’s relationship with the Golden Girl is complicated and somewhat shrouded in mystery and rumours because he refuses to talk about it much. People thought they were friends for a long time, rumours of him having a crush on her developing since he was seen carrying her things around a lot during his Freshman year, always being in her corner and defending her every move. Who would blame him though? She’s the Golden Girl! However, they seemed to only stay friends, like his assumed feelings weren’t reciprocated; Greer getting new boyfriends but never looking twice at Kian. Only seen together a few times during his second Sophomore term people assumed he’d given up and the pair seemed to have drifted apart almost completely this spring before she disappeared. On the contrary to people’s common beliefs, Greer was drunk with power over the new kid who did her bidding and dirty work because he was terrified of doing her wrong. Finally, he dared to stand up for himself and then, she was suddenly gone. This left Kian unsure if he’s feeling lost and more frightened than ever or actually a relief he’s hesitant about how to express.

BASICS.

name / nickname(s): kian marquez / just kian (pronounced right or not), or marquez.

meaning: kian is the english variant of the gaelic irish given name cian, meaning "ancient" but kian (کیان) is also a common persian given name meaning "king" or "realm". its persian origin is pronounced as (ki'��ːn / kee-ahn) whose closest spelling in english is keon but he doesn’t mind people pronouncing it wrong. long-term friends he corrects at some point.

birthday/age: february 7th,  2001,  11.43pm  /  twenty-one

zodiacs: aquarius ☉ ; leo ☽ ; scorpio 🡕

gender/pronouns: cis-male / he,him

occupation: majors in history, subway employee 12hrs/week

place of birth: miami, fl (considers los angeles his hometown though)

nationality: american

ethnicity: 1/2 white, 1/4 mexican (indigenous, spanish), 1/4 iranian

languages: english, spanish, persian (farsi, a lil rusty tho).

sexual orientation: pan??? prefers dudes?? dont think he knows either or gives a shit

PHYSICAL.

faceclaim: benjamin wadsworth

height: 5′9″

eye color: dark brown

hair color / style: dark brown / usually worn like this. occassionally (when lazy) grows it out like this (had it like that most of it sophomore year tbh) and when it’s a fresh cut he has a lowkey fauxhawk like this.

accent: didn’t think he had one until people in los angeles told him he had a florida accent (mainly certain words and a lot of spanglish). he gained some la-influence in his accent living there in his teens but generally definitely more southern than new yorker.

tattoo(s) / piercing(s): n/a

scar(s): oh boy where do i start. look at this and this... and this. several scars over his torso (see marcus in deadly class) and legs most of them from when he was homeless. a particularly notable scar is one that stretches from his forehead into his right eyebrow a little over an inch and then down his cheek about another inch (gained him the nickname scar after he got it when he was homeless) and then one vertically across the bridge of his nose but that’s from sophomore year.

clothing style: jeans / cargo pants and plain/band t-shirts tbh, jean or leather jackets.

PERSONALITY.

mbti: intp-t

moral alignment: chaotic neutral/neutral good

positive traits: adventurous, friendly, independent, charming, generous, humorous, witty, flirtatious, dedicated, protective.

negative traits: unpredictable, mistrustful, mischievous, sneaky, sarcastic, private, hypocritical, cynical, possessive, jealous.

skills: lock picking, skateboarding, dates and details of historical events and also totally unnecessary historical facts, can kinda play the guitar (wonderwall definitely but he hates it).

hobbies: history and religion, art, skateboarding, cinema, partying, video games, music, comic books, conspiracy theories, true crime.

smokes? drinks? drugs?: yes. yes. mostly just weed nowadays.

BACKGROUND.

family: david marquez (father), holly marquez (neé hathaway, mother), rahui marquez (p grandfather), donya marquez (neé kazemi, p grandmother), kaden marquez (brother), kian (his parents’ dog, alaskan malamute (b. 2013))

tw: abuse, homelessness, juvenile detention, underage drinking & substance abuse/addiction

born in miami to a 17 year old couple his grandparents forcefully adopted him because they thought their son and his girlfriend were too young to raise a child. heartbroken, his parents cut ties with them and decided to travel the world before moving to the west coast. 

kian could never do anything right with them. whether he was quiet and obedient or loud and messy he still got on their nerves, his grandfather’s temper finally cracking while his grandmother did nothing and kian spent years collecting the courage to finally run away from their home, which he did with much determination when he was twelve years old, not looking back. not really connected to media he never knew if anyone even looked for him.

homeless before his teens, which was exciting at first to see the “world” but then turned more and more rough. kian did the most for cash and managed to travel by bus first to new orleans and then further west, ending up in los angeles by summer 2015 where he got with an older homeless crowd influencing him to drink away his anxiety at the age of 14, also introducing him to other vices like cigarettes and drugs. 

in los angeles he also met jesse hart but the beginning of the friendship was short lived, abruptly put on hold when kian got sent to juvenile detention for [redacted]. they quickly realized he didn’t have a family so when he got out of juvie in early 2017 he was supposed to be put into foster care system but through a dna test they found his parents living in sacramento and while not knowing him at all, they were happy to take him back - although it took time and he ran off in the meantime out of panic and was homeless for a few months more. when it was finalized though, he settles with them and... definitely made their lives a lot harder than previously.

yet, he ran away again during the summer of 2019 anyway!!! having applied for a scholarship at ogden college without their knowledge. after all, it was scary as shit having to depend on anyone after being, or at least feeling, alone for so long, wasn’t it? of course, he had no hope he’d get the scholarship but to his surprise!!! he did!! 

in excitement/fear/being nervous as shit he ran away first though, to new york for a bit where he worked during the summer and then moved on to new hampshire, that he now lovingly sometimes calls new hampshite, to study history - the only subject he ever liked in high school (that he barely passed)

he didn’t get back to his parents his entire freshman year, nor did he go home during the summer after. they desperately tried to contact him for over a year but didn’t see him again until his sophomore christmas break when he was just standing on their porch all of a sudden. since then they’ve had more contact and he even spent a two weeks with them in sacramento this summer but ran off to new york a week before they were supposed to drive him over there themselves.

MISC. (lil headcanons, fun facts...)

him going to juvie is not public knowledge but also not necessarily a secret, he just doesn’t talk about it and if someone (unless it’s jesse) knows he went to juvie they wouldn’t know for what (meaning a lot of rumors have gone around about the reason). he does joke darkly about his homelessness though, he doesn’t mind people knowing about that.

reuniting with his parents he also found out he has a baby brother, kaden born in 2015 which was both weird and slightly uncomfortable for kian who spent time mostly with their dog, an alaskan malamute.... also named kian :) apparently his parents had separated a year after kian was taken from them but found their way back to each other about eight years later, having a dog and then another child after getting married.

diagnosed ptsd. he should still be in therapy 

his grandparents only spoke persian and spanish with him, he learned english from his surroundings and school. after running away spanish came in handy but his persian got a little rusty over the years and he did also resent both languages for a long time because of his grandparents but now he enjoys speaking to his father and brother in either. his mother just knows some basic spanish.

he didn’t have any social media prior to his college freshman year, getting facebook first a few months into his first term and then instagram a couple of months later. not that he uses either of them much at all. he’s also not very tech savvy at all. his phone is a samsung from 2016 that he got from his dad in 2017.

his music taste is a lof of 70s and 80s rock music, a lot because the homeless crowds he ran with in his early teens were older than him and they had old cassettes and CDs with music. he still has an AC/DC cassette he got from one of them. however he is also a hardcore tswift fan okay

still generally bad at a lot of movie references bc he had a window where he didn’t watch any at all for... obvious reasons... but he’s catching up and he lovessss movies and seeing new ones!!! especially action and indie movies. tell him ur fave he’ll probably watch it!!!

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

Here We Are as in Olden Days

Summary: When Rafael Barba returned to New York, he’d spent three years putting in the work to come home to the only real relationship he’d ever known. When he learned there was a little girl sleeping upstairs, he immediately knew she was his. When Rebecca gave him the option to do Christmas with his little family, he couldn’t refuse, even if it was as Mr. Barba.

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

First Part - Second Part

A/N: Here’s a Christmas conclusion. I know who I am. There will probably be stand alones later. 

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.

“Mommy, who’s this?” a little girl with a mass of dark curls and wide green eyes asked as he came into the living room. Who he could only assume were Al and Rodney watched him from the kitchen, and he shifted nervously as Catalina inspected him.

“This is mommy’s friend, Mr. Barba,” Rebecca smiled softly, a gentle hand on his arm. They’d talked for hours the night before, Rafael only slipping out the door as the sun rose on Christmas Eve. And he’d told her every thing. Not like he had before, no. This time, he told her how he felt as he left. The way his heart clenched every time he thought of her, but he knew he had to be the man she deserved. He even told her the insecurities and triggers and coping mechanisms he’d learned in therapy before detailing the Householder case and his subsequent trial. He thought he’d be coming home to just her though. Then, he cried, reverently looking at each photo in the compilations she handed him. Her name was Catalina, yes for his abuelita. They make the same faces when they’re angry, mouths set in a firm line as they looked to the ceiling. He saw the proof. 

Al didn’t think she should give him a chance so easily, but Rafael was grateful she’d given him the option to attend Christmas Eve as Mr. Barba instead of dad and escorting the pair to midnight mass. Mami was in Florida, or she’d have given him hell for the way he changed in and out of chinos and button downs and sweaters and blazers, desperate to make a good impression on everyone present. That blazer? Too snug now, he couldn’t play with Catalina if she asked. The sweater? Not festive enough to put together gifts from Santa when they got back from mass. Instead, he came in a dark red fair isles sweater Rebecca had gotten him when they were together, slacks and a button down still present. He was torn on a blazer, wearing it only because he’d gotten so used to being in a three piece suit when he was in New York. Adjusting to the casual attire he’d gotten so fond of in Iowa felt wrong when he was here. 

“Hi, Mr. Barba,” she said giving him a shy wave. “I’m Cat.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cat,” he smiled, kneeling. “Your mami is putting your present under the tree, but I got treats.” 

He pulled out a bag of soft chocolate covered salted caramels. When Rebecca told him they had the same taste in sweets, he’d hurried to the shop as he ran the last minute errands to ensure he could spoil her at least a little. There had also been flowers for Rebecca. He knew she cared, but what flowers meant I really love you, expect nothing in return, and am sorry for everything? The florist had happily taught him. Colors were first. What did he was to say? Apparently white meant unity and pureness of new love, but he was assured that if they paired white with pink that meant apology and poetic romance, they shouldn’t come on too strong. They stayed away from roses, feeling they were too romantic this early on, but went with lilies, humility and devotion, and tulips, new beginnings and peace. Was Rafael Barba certain anything the older woman told him was true? No. But he bought a card, writing her a letter of explanation and gratitude within. It was foreign for him. Rebecca loved handwritten letters and their sentimentality, but he hated the way his shaky hand always gave away his nerves so he didn’t write them. He did for her this time, though, and he signed it Always yours, Rafael in shaky, loopy letters at the bottom.

“Can I have one?” she whispered, delighting in the secrecy. He caught Rebecca’s eye, winking as he gave one to Catalina. Nervous he’d have chosen wrong and she could choke, he sat with his legs splayed in front of him to watch her. 

“Don’t tell mami. We don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

“Mama said not to take candy from strangers.”

“Then ask mami. That’s very smart of you, mija.”

“Mommy!” she called over her shoulder. “Can Mr. Barba give me candy?”

“He can, angel.”

“Mommy! What does mija mean?”

“Sweetheart. Mr. Barba learned Spanish at home. Like Jose’s family does.”

“Mommy said I can take candy from you,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell her we’re gonna eat it now.”

“Very sneaky,” he chuckled as she took it. As kids are prone to do, she sucked on the soft caramel, soon covered in sticky sugar and melted chocolate. He gave her one more before he tucked the bag away, and Rebecca was suddenly struck by how different he was being. She’d seen him near kids before, but when they got sticky and grimy, he’d keep away. They threatened the composed, clean version of himself he projected. Now he didn’t flinch as sticky hands fisted his blazer, certain to leave prints if he didn’t work on it now. Instead, he picked up Catalina and sat her on the counter in the kitchen. He didn’t think to help her wash her own hands, instead using a damp cloth to carefully wipe her hands and mouth. When she ran back to the living room as though nothing happened, he dabbed at the sugary stain, shrugging at Rebecca when it didn’t come out. 

“I like this stress free version of you,” she said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He hadn’t expected it, smiling

“I want to leave that part of me in the past. I worked hard to become what you deserve. I’m not sure I’m there yet.”

“You seem more relaxed. I’d say our troubles will be out of sight. It’s a fresh start, Rafael.”

“You mean that, Becs?”

“I do. I’m willing to forget it all. We’ll get you into her life.”

“If we don’t get together again, I understand. Or if I’m always Mr. Barba.”

“I know. But I want both of those things with time.”

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more

He smiled as Catalina bounded across the living room. The red of her Christmas dress matched his sweater and Rebecca’s shoes. The thick satin belt was in a bow, and he helped her bundle into her scarf, coat, and hat. It was nice to bundle her up; it made him feel like he was getting to do some of the raising already. Rebecca looked elegant, as always, in green plaid slacks, belted to nip in her waist with a cream sweater. He stared at her as Catalina stood by his side while he put on his own coat, scarf, and gloves. Her hand found his, and his eyes went wide as he looked up Rebecca. He grinned as the little girl took Rebecca’s hand in her other and pulled him towards the door. Rebecca could’ve cried as they walked to the church, feeling like things were going to be okay for the first time in a while. 

After a block, Catalina had feigned exhaustion until Rafael picked her up and settled her on his hip. It was the little girl’s favorite move. She preferred being carried to walking, but this was a sign she had already accepted Rafael as part of their family unit. It was usually only Rebecca, Al, Rodney, and the secretary at the school who gave her candies who were allowed to hold her, and she certainly never laid her head on the shoulder of the secretary. That meant he’d been even more accepted than just as the bringer of salted caramel. 

Rebecca helped Catalina out of the hat, coat, and scarf as she stood on the pew. As she did, Rafael stood beside her and laid each article over his arm. He took hers as well before un-bundling himself and sitting with Catalina in between them. Rebecca didn’t miss the protective arm he slung over the back of the pew as he listened to Catalina chatter happily about everyone around them. Both adults could both feel eyes on him, Catalina oblivious. This was their regular church before he left, and the little old ladies refused to understand he hadn’t known he was leaving her pregnant. Several of them also disagreed the day he was found not guilty. Now they could see him smiling down at the little girl they’d all grown so protective of. And she’d let him hold her? Each had tried and failed, Catalina wiggling from their arms to hide behind her mother’s legs.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly as Catalina drew in the notebook Rebecca had brought her.

“They’re all staring. We aren’t their business.”

“The abuelitas will gossip, Becs. We’ll get through that easy.”

“I just know they’re making assumptions about you.”

“Maybe. But you know what? You and Cat are happy, so they can say whatever they’d like. All I care about is you two. ”

“Mrs. Garcia is probably mad you got to hold her.”

“Is that not normal?”

“No. Welcome to the elite club. With you, we’re at five.”

“Really?” He had that genuine smile again, the one that crinkled his eyes. Before, he’d only ever let her see it in the privacy of their apartments or the backseat of cars. She was happy to see it here, sat beside their daughter at the midnight service she came to each year, their matching green eyes looking over at her.

“Yeah. We both are really glad you’re here, Mr. Barba.” 

“I’m glad to be here. Te extrañe, hermosa.”

“I missed you too,” she said softly, and he didn’t miss the tinge of melancholy in her voice as her hand smoothed Catalina’s hair. His hand slid off the pew to rest on her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze she knew meant I’m right here. She didn’t want to wallow in what he missed, so she chose to refocus. “You know what you get to do tonight?”

“What?” 

“We never did S-A-N-T-A before.”

“Yeah? I get to?”

“You get to help me build everything.” 

He squeezed her shoulder before the organ music began. As they prayed, stood, knelt, and sang, he felt like he was where he was supposed to be. Catalina leaned on Rebecca, who was used to telling Catalina to stand and straightening her dress. As she leaned on Rafael, he’d wrap an arm around her, watching her as he sang hymns he’d long ago memorized. He’d missed so much that he wanted to absorb every second of being around her, still fearing he’d ruin the life he was getting the opportunity to ease into. It felt domestic and homey and like something he could look forward to each day, but he was still trying to accept holidays and church services may be all he got, despite the fact every signal was telling him the opposite. 

“Mr. Barba, you sing pretty,” Catalina whispered, and he smiled softly, looking down at her as he sang to her now. Catalina wrapped around his arm, and he adjusted his hold on the hymnal to let her hang on him. Rebecca had seen him with children before, and he’d always continued to try and seem polished and mature. She liked this version of Rafael, wearing his suit with a festive sweater and mussed hair. He didn’t care as little hands grasped at the fabric. The polished ADA was gone, and he was so delightfully human, messy in a way he hadn’t been before. The steeled edges had been dulled, and seeing him fuss over Catalina highlighted that. She was sure they’d tell Catalina if this continued into the first months of the new year.

“He’s back?” Mrs. Garcia asked after mass, catching Rebecca on the sidewalk as Rafael chatted with someone he recognized. She was pretty sure it was a detective, and she could hear Carisi, you let me tell people on my own being said in his scariest voice, hushed so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. Rafael had been happy to let her rest against his front, a hand spread protectively over her back to keep her upright. She snapped the picture she’d been trying to take, thankful Al was willing to give him enough of a chance to have taken pictures of Rebecca, Rafael, and Catalina as they all cooked dinner together.

“Yeah, he is,” she said fondly, not missing the face the older woman made. 

“Let’s hope she doesn’t get sick.” This was one of the moments Rebecca knew hurt and motherhood had steeled her resolve. She fixed the older woman with a glare, shaking her head.

“He did what he felt was right, Mrs. Garcia. You didn’t even read what happened, just the headline. He’s a good man, and I’d appreciate you getting your nose out of our business.” 

Rafael lifted his brow as she came back to his side, heart soaring as her arm slid around his waist. Carisi had left, and he had a feeling his secret would be safe. Would anyone believe him anyway? They walked back to her apartment in contented silence, her arm keeping around him. Al and Rodney had gone home, so he’d get to sleep on the fold out couch and be there when Catalina woke. With Rebecca’s guidance, he got Catalina tucked in, a proud smile on his face as he took his clothes into the bathroom to change. He met her at the couch, sweatpants slung low on his hips and the Harvard sweatshirt his mother had gotten him when his disintegrated after twenty years. 

“So, mami,” he grinned. “What first?”

“We’re building a train table, but instead of trains, it’ll have her stackers and puzzles and art stuff under it in baskets.”

“Perfect.” He kissed her temple before stretching and standing. She led him to the back closet, tugging out the flat pack with the table and all of its parts. Together, they unpacked it, and Rebecca was pleasantly surprised as he worked on the table. Anytime there had been manual labor to be done, he’d hired someone. Now, she watched as he carefully used the supplied allen wrench to put the table together as she sorted Catalina’s old toys into their new homes. His hair had all fallen over his forehead, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he tightened each screw. When he’d finished, she slid the baskets beneath it, grinning.

“Looks good, papi.” He snorted at the term, once only used when her voice was thick with lust. Now she said it affectionately, tucking herself under his arm as they sat on the floor in front of the table he’d built their child. 

“A brilliant idea, mami. Gives her space.”

“And a way to make a mess on something other than my carpet.”

“Even smarter.”

She stretched up, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. His heart fluttered like it had since day one.  

Through the years, we all will be together if the fates allow, so hang a shining star upon the highest bough. Have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

As sun filtered in through the window, Rafael woke up in Rebecca’s bed. He stretched, memories of needy kisses and whispers of I’m sure, Rafael flooding back to him as he smiled softly against her shoulder. Rebecca pressed against him as she woke, and he hummed softly. She twisted until she was facing him, smiling up at him gently as her eyes opened. It was like every morning before he’d ruined things, and he felt Christmas spirit like he had never felt before. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, her above him. 

“Morning,” she yawned, head on his chest as she relaxed against him.

“Morning, hermosa. Feliz Navidad.”

“Merry Christmas.” 

“How long do we have until we aren’t alone?”

“Probably not long.”

“I’ll make breakfast? You hop in the shower?”

“You don’t know what I have to cook.”

“I looked last night. I’d have cooked you breakfast any way. French toast or pancakes?”

“French toast,” she grinned, kissing him again. “But we eat in bed? We can’t sneak Santa if she goes down the stairs.”

“You got it.” Rafael stretched as he stood, and Rebecca watched him move around the room to get dressed. The ease with which he moved assuaged any worries he would end up freaking out in the morning. The morning after he’d said I love you, he’d been all frenetic energy. The new calm, collected Rafael was still at ease as he ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs. Rebecca took a shower, stealing the sweater he’d worn the night before from the duffel bag he’d left in the bathroom and getting into a pair of leggings. When she walked into Catalina’s room, she was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Did Santa find us?” she whispered with wide eyes.

“He did. Mr. Barba is bringing us breakfast in mama’s bed. Then we’ll go see what Santa brought and open presents.” Catalina nodded seriously, letting her mother carry her into the bigger bed and stretching out beside her. Rafael was there soon, three plates and two mugs of coffee on a tray he’d dug up from the recesses of her kitchen. 

“Señor Barba probablemente no debería besar a mamá todavía, eh?” he teased lightly after kissing the top of Catalina’s head.

“Not yet,” she said softly, and he gave her a reassuring smile as their daughter dug into her food happily. 

“Entiendo mi amor.” She squeezed his hand, sipping her coffee. 

“Say thank you,” Rebecca smiled. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barba,” the little girl grinned. 

“Thank you, Rafael,” she smiled.

“I’m glad to cook for you two,” he said breezily. “I imagine we have years of Christmas mornings to come.”

“Me too.” When the empty plates were stacked on the tray and Catalina was buzzed on sugar hanging on Rafael, they made their way downstairs. Catalina clung to Rafael and Rebecca’s hands, determined to walk down the stairs on her own. She stuck her tongue between her teeth with her brow furrowed, the same look Rafael had made as he built the table that was waiting for her. 

“Mama! Mr. Barba! Santa got me a table like at daycare!”

“It’s very cool,” Rebecca grinned, phone out as she took pictures. Rafael knelt beside her.

“And look at that, mija! Your toys are all put away. Santa es sabio.”

“Sabio?” she asked, head tilted. 

“Wise. Smart.”

“He is! We don’t need to put toys away! Sabio Santa!” He sat by Rebecca on the couch as she played, accepting the offered cup of coffee gladly. A break to caffeinate was exactly what they’d need.

“Sabio papi,” she smiled softly. “To the first of many Christmases, papi.”

“To the first of many Christmases, mami.”

[thesnowfelled-a]

TRIGGER WARNING  ;    child abuse,  violence,  child neglect,  and accidental murder.

Hayley was adopted by a family named the MARSHALLS  ( Mother’s maiden name being CAMERON ).  This family was WELL OFF in terms of money.  The married couple had always wanted a child to heal a broken family.  The mother couldn’t have a child of her own and the father had wanted to make his crying wife happy.  It started out FINE with her living down in Florida with the Marshalls.  They had a summer home as Mr. Marshall was a doctor that actually did earn a nice penny.  Mrs. Marshall was a stay at home mother that doted on Hayley until she was seven years old.  Hayley knew love and was considered that golden child even if she did EVERYTHING that she was told not to do like getting her dress dirty.

At seven,  things changed and Hayley doesn’t know why exactly.  The mother’s ability to love her seemed to just go away and she was often left confused and wondering what she did wrong.  There was always fighting downstairs between the mother and father which she tried not to listen to.  Things had always been TENSE between the couple and while Hayley never saw it,  there was abuse between them.  The father held an iron fist around the money and wanted the perfect family image.

Her life had actually NEVER been perfect but at least before the age of seven someone CARED about her and protected her.  There was PHYSICAL violence that happened in that home that she tried to forget but never could. The father was not one that Hayley loved by any means but the mother?  Hayley had adored for a while. 

When things got bad at home,  by the age of 12 years of age,  Hayley was well on her way to being with the crowd of people that often got into trouble.  She met a girl named AMANDA LINDALE that understood what Hayley would whisper to her about at night,  the world just seeming to be the two of them.  The two of them talked about their lives and what they would have LOVED to have.  Amanda was Hayley’s BEST FRIEND until the fateful night that Hayley got drunk and killed her friend on accident. 

The Marshall family used their money to try slide things under the rug the best they could although Hayley was required to see a therapist.  For a whole MONTH there was anger in her eyes.  She threw things,  hit walls,  and acted out in a way that no one had seen before.  The mother used to tell her she didn’t know what had gotten into her and truth is,  Hayley had no clue either.

Hayley noticed a different when her adoptive father HIT HER (nothing new) and the bruise that he left faded fast.

Hayley had been crushing on AMANDA LINDALE and never wanted her to die.  She had been wanting to ask her on a date but Amanda was a year older  ( 14 almost 15 )  and Hayley was ( 13 almost 14 ).   Hayley was kicked out ONE WEEK before her birthday.  She turned into a werewolf in their living room and that morning,  she woke to a bag packed by the front door and two people yelling at her to leave.

[childofhalloween]

A Story With No Name Aka Why You Don't Ask Idoits for Dating Advice

So this was a short little one shot I got an idea for after binging Graystillplays Sims videos for days. If the formatting or anything seems off it's because I wrote it all on a phone. Well this short one shot turned out 9 pages long opps. So I hope you enjoy. Also writing an Austrillis slow burn not really sure where it goes but if anyone is interested let me know. Anyways onto the show! Thomas Alan Wenis better known as Tommy looked down at the paper in his hand. This address had to be a mistake. He had just flown down to Florida to get away for a while, see the ocean, maybe even clear up his depression. He hadn't brought much with him just an old suitcase and what little money he drained from his savings account.

That was exactly what attracted him to the random message board offering low rent living. With the price of rent all Tommy was expecting was a cot in a closet somewhere. Not that he minded as long as he had a roof and somewhere to put his black boots he didn't care.

But this, this wasn't right. Couldn't be right. The place was huge. Probably the biggest house he had ever seen. 4 floors are least and he could see the corner a large pool in the back.

He checked the address of his contact Melvin, and it matched. This had to be some sort of scheme. He knew it was too good to be true, like everything else in his life.

With a sigh he picked up his bag walking to the front door. Maybe they would be able to at least point him in the right direction.

Ringing the bell he sat out on the front step for a moment before the large oak door opened and a man dressed only in a towel and some sneakers opened the door.

"Uhhh hi. I'm sorry to disturb you but I am looking for someone at this address. His name is Melvin." Tommy said avoiding eye contact with the red haired man.

"Yeah that's me! Melvin Eugene Johnston. But everyone just calls me Florida Man." He said holding out his hand Tommy awkwardly taking it. "You must be Tommy!"

"Uhhh yeah. I'm sorry did I come at a bad time?" He said motioning to the towel.

"Huh this? Nah. Just like to feel a cool breeze if you know what I mean." He joked opening the door motioning for him to come in.

The place was almost too much for Tommy to take in but nonetheless followed Florida Man on a tour around the house.

"I uhhh….I hate to say I think I miss understood about the price." Tommy said knowing their was no way he could ever afford a place like this.

"Oh don't stress about it. Just get me the $300 whenever. Everyone here is pretty cool. We all just pitch in when we can ya know? We all take turns cleaning and cooking….well except for Aussie. Fire department said they are gonna fine us for another kitchen fire." He said casually. Tommy couldn't help but wonder what he was getting into.

"Then toss in some cash for some beers or food when ya can. Everyone just kind of does their own thing. You will see all kinds of people come and go. Right now we got a lot of our 'lifers'."

"How can you afford this place?" Tommy said looking at another large staircase.

"Oh it's already paid for. I bought it with the money from my lawsuit with Madonna."

"You sued Madonna!?!" Tommy said, not believing what he was hearing.

“Oh yeah I did. Her show was supposed to start at 8 she didn't go on till 10. I wasted so much money on overpriced water down beer I don't even remember the damn thing. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. Apparently I fell down 12 rows of concrete stairs trying to get some nachos from concessions." He said casually as he continued. "Then I used the money I won to buy this place but it got lonely & quiet by myself so I started renting out rooms. Made for one big odd family."

Opening a door he motioned to Tommy "So here's your room. Get comfortable. When you're done feel free to head on down to the kitchen, meet everyone."

Tommy had hoped he could even find his way back down to the kitchen. It was going to take a little while to get used to this place. He still couldn't wrap his mind around all of this.

But unbeknownst to him the craziest part was yet to come. His new roommates.

Finally finding the kitchen he saw Floridaman busy having a beer next to a tall man with the most epic red beard he'd ever seen and a smaller but seemingly louder blond wearing sunglasses. And behind them both a slightly deranged looking man with jet black hair.

They all seemed to get quiet as he walked awkwardly into the kitchen.

"I was wondering if you were going to find us." Florida Man said thrusting a Bud Lite in Tommy's hand not bothering to ask if he'd want one. "Boys this is our newest guest Tommy Wenis"

The blond let out an almost mocking laugh.

"Wenis!?! Ya gotta be bloody kiddin me. Bet that must have been a rough primary career. The names are just endless!"

"Don't listen to him, he can be a jerk but he doesn't really mean it." The redhead said standing up holding out his hand cordially. "Names Tim by the way."

"Ahhh I'm just taking the piss with ya mate...kinda. Name's Trevor but everyone here likes to call me Australian Man. Ya know obvious reasons."

Finally the dark hair man with the slightly odd shaped face spoke up. "And I'm Colono. Colono Scopy"

"Uh huh...so is this everyone who lives here?" Tommy said looking at the motley crew in front of him.

"No the girls are off doing something or another. I think they mentioned girls day. I don't know I wasn't listening." Florida Man said, looking at the clock on the stove. "But they should be back any minute."

As if on cue the door opened and the sound of over lapped talking was heard.

"Speak of the devil mate." Australian Man said slightly in awe of Florida Man's timing.

A brunette wearing what looked to be a thrift store tourist shirt walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Whitley come here meet our new roommate Tommy." Florida Man said.

"Hey I'm Whitley " she shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice the slight smell of cheap bottom shelf vodka radiating off her.

Next a woman walked in with the best blond afro Tommy had ever seen.

"Hey Bab this is our new roommate Tom-"

"Maybe he'll last longer then the others." Bab said almost miserably as she walked out the back door not stopping.

"Sorry she's kin-d of…." Florida Man tried to think of the word.

"Manic Depressive." The girl with blonde and pink braids said matter of factly. "Text book diagnosis really."

"Are you a Dr?" Tommy asked everyone just laughed.

"Not in the slightest. Just been through a lot of psychologists."

"Ellis Dee, meet Tommy." Florida Man introduced.

"Tommy Wenis." Australian Man said with a snicker.

"Oh my God do people call you Tiny Wenis?" Ellis said with a giggle.

It didn't matter though because all Tommy's attention was now focused on the tall blond with golden hair walking in. He had never seen anyone like her. She was like nothing he'd ever encountered. She was…..she was…..she was absolutely stunning.

"Whose that?" Tommy asked Tim quietly.

"Huh? Oh that's Beth. Be nice, she's a sweet girl." Tim whispered back.

"Hey Beth say hi to Tommy the new guy." Florida said.

"Hi name's Beth." She introduced herself in a thick Southern accent.

"I….uhh...I'm Tommy." Tommy managed to mumble out.

All the guys exchanged an odd look.

"So where are ya rollin in from?" She asked with a smile.

"....I uhhh… I come from….places. I gotta go." He said, scrambling out of the kitchen to his room.

"That was odd." Colono said all the others nodded.

As the months went on Tommy found he had more in common with this rag tag bunch then he ever had with anyone else. He spent his days joking with Colono, drinking beers with the Florida Man & Australian Man, discussing art with Bab Ross, hitting the occasional bong with Ellis Dee, and pretty much bonding with everyone.

Everyone that is except for Beth. It seemed like every time they had a moment together his mind just blanked. Like it shut down to nothing and he couldn't figure out what the hell to say so he would say something awkward and just excuse himself.

It became apparent to everyone what was going on, everyone that was except Beth as she walked into the living room one day.

"Mind if I sat by ya hun?" She asked. He looked up at her eyes wide.

"I….uhh….murder show…..its over…..here you go. For you." He said, tossing the remote at her feet before running out the room.

"Ouch that was painful to watch." Australian Man looked up from the card game the guys had been playing.

Tommy pulled out a chair and plopped down not responding.

"Hey man, it's0 ok you will get her next time." Florid Man said putting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically….well really trying to sneak a peek at Colono's cards

"Ughhh. It's like everytime I try to talk to her I look like a total ass." Tommy grumbled.

"Yah we know, we all seen it." Australian Man joked as threw another chip in the pot.

"Well what am I supposed to say? Hey I think you're gorgeous, will you have a coffee with me?" He said, causing all the other men to laugh.

"No, no. You're thinking too much into it. What women love to hear is compliments." Tim Horton said as Bab Ross happened to walk past. "Watch this."

"Hello Bab you are looking positively radiant today!" Tim said, putting on a charming smile.

"Whatever you say Tim." Bab said with a shrug as she kept walking.

This caused all the other men to crack up.

"Laugh all you want but she acknowledged me. That's progress."

"Nah ya got it all wrong mate. What birds really dig on is a badass." Australian Man said getting up walking to the back yard. "This is how it's done boys."

Strutting slightly he slid up to Ellis Dee who was sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Hey Ellie." He said acting casual.

"Oh hey Aussie what's up?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I fought off a whole colony of bog frogs?"

"No I don't think you have."

"Yeah I was out with some blokes and came across these wee little bog frogs must have been mating season or something because next thing I know I'm surrounded by the little wankers! So I start beating them off me. Kicking, punching them in their little frog faces. Just throwing them off left and right. Turns out the little bastards were poisonous. Woke up in the hospital 2 weeks later handcuffed to the hospital bed. Turns out those little piss frogs are on the 'endangered species' list. Luckily for me though the judge granted the coma as time served. All I got was probation and I'll be off that by next year." Australian Man said cooly before something hit him.

"Probation…..OH SHIT! My probation meeting!" He said looking down at his watch. "I'm 6 fucking months late! I can not be arrested again! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he said running into the house leaving behind a very confused Ellis Dee.

All the guys watched as Australian Man ran through the house screaming obscenities as he looked for his cell phone.

"Anyways….what about you Florida Man. How do you talk to the ladies?" Tim Horton asked.

Florida Man shrugged and got up walking to the kitchen to see Whitley at the table drinking a large glass of orange juice.

"Bud Lite?" Florida Man offered holding out a beer. She looked at him confused.

"Its only 11 not even noon. Too early for beer." she said.

"Ok." Florida Man said walking back with both beers.

"Mornings are for screwdrivers." Whitley said to herself pour more dollar vodka into her drink.

"No, no I am sure I called. Yeah right when I landed. No I made sure I message with a Shelly? Or maybe a Jan? Or was it a Steven? I'm not sure. Mighta been a new?.....oh maybe a temp! Bloody hard to find good help huh? I'm sure it's there just check the last few months. Ring when this is all cleared up." Australian Man said, hanging up his phone not waiting for a reply on the other end. "Bloody cunts..….so what'd I miss."

"That's it. That's the only move I got." Florida Man said with a shrug.

"You guys are hopeless. No wonder I'm the only one in a relationship." Colono complained before turning to Tommy. "Tommy don't listen to them they are all going to die alone."

"Hey!"

"Fuck ya too!

"That was rude….but true."

"Women, they love romance. You can sweep a woman off her feet just by words. Just watch my example gentlemen." Colono said as he sauntered out the door to Flo Cane who was watching tv.

"Oh there she is mi amor. I was looking everywhere for you." He said sliding next to her.

"What is it? On no! Are you having issues again? Is the burning back? Have you been taking your meds? Do I need to call the Dr for you again?"

"What!?! No! That's not it!" Colono said in a panic as the sound of laughter came from around the corner.

"Hey don't listen to them. You know stress makes it worse." Flo comforted.

"It's not that!" Colono said frustrated.

"Are you sure? I know how cranky you get when you forget to take your meds."

"I'm not cranky!" Colono yelled as he stormed off.

"I'm making you an appointment just to be sure! I know you are scared of making phone calls." She shouted after him as he stormed off.

The other guys were currently in a huge pile on the floor in total hysterics none of them were able to stand. It took almost 10mins for them to calm down to breathe.

Finally collecting himself Tommy stood up straightening out his clothes. After all that advice he had finally figured it out. He knew what he had to do. Mustering up all the courage he could he moved forward before he could chicken out.

"Where are you going?" Florida Man asked as Tommy made his way outside.

"I'm going to do what I need to." He said walking out into the back yard where the girls currently huddled together talking about how weird the morning had been.

"Hello ladies. Can I talk to Beth alone please?" He asked.

Suddenly a lot made sense as they gave each other a knowing look.

"She's all yours." Whitley said with a l knowing smirk.

Silence still overcame the 2 as they sat there totally obvious to the group of 8 peering around the corner.

"What did you want to talk about?" Beth asked looking over slightly confused about what had been going on. From what she heard it's been a very confusing day.

"I…..I…." He took a deep breath before blurting out quickly. "I think you're absolutely gorgeous and would you like to get coffee with me?"

It took Beth a moment to even figure out what he had said and then another for it to really register.

"You, you think I'm pretty?" She said shocked no one had said anything like that before.

"Gorgeous actually." He said his face was burning red. "Look if I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes." She cut him off.

"Huh?"

"I would love to get coffee with you." She said as a big smile crossed her face.

"Ok when?"

"Now?" She suggested.

"Sounds great." He said getting up offering his hand to her. "I know a great place."

They both walked right past the group of the gawkers so invested in their conversation they didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh my God that is the sweetest thing I've ever seen!" Whitley gushed.

"Guys are never that romantic. She's so lucky." Flo said wistfully.

"Man I wish I could find someone who thinks like that." Ellis mused.

"Yeah it was pretty nice." Bab said in her bored Bab tone.

"Are ya fucking kidding me right now!?!" Australian said, throwing his hands up in the air as he stormed back inside.

"Seriously? That? That's it? Thats romantic?" Colono complained following behind.

"Wow guy did have some skills after all." Florida said patting Tim on the back sympathetically as Tim mumbled to himself annoyed.

"What's their problem?" Bab asked.

"Men are weird." Whitley said all the other girls nodded in agreement.

[charmed-asylum]

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 , Chapter 1

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

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

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

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

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

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

🍂🍂🍂

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🌙🌙🌙

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🍂🍂🍂

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

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

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

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

[starlight-writes-stuff]

hello, can i do one of the song request things you wrote about a bit ago? she/her pronouns, with dream, and based on the song 'daisies' by ryan caraveo? also, if you're doing an anon list, can i be 🧿 anon?

welcome 🧿 anon ! i just have to say ,,,,,, this song is immaculate ?? so good ?? will be added to my playlist ?? the concept of this song works perfectly for a fic - i love it so much . thank u for requesting and i really hope u enjoy ((((:

daisies - ryan caraveo

AYO LOOK AT THESE : 2.3k wc , so much fluff ur gonna puke , but nothing other than that . reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

xoxoxo , starlight 

☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁

she earned her grades and i finessed mine

but not so obvious, a c minus is just fine //

she planned for college, i schemed and plotted

---

her friends are pretty, my friends are goonies

but maybe it could all work out like in the movies

---

she like daisies, i'm like gloom

without my rain, she couldn't bloom

she need me, i need her, too

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you and clay (or dream, really. everyone in his life called him that except for you; it was a nickname he couldn't seem to rid himself of) couldn’t have been more different- and yet, the sandy blonde boy had managed to work his way into your head and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. every time he touched you, whether it was accidental or on purpose, you felt your entire body go up in hot, white flames. your nervous system seemed to light up around him; even the sound of his voice made your heart skip and stutter. when you thought about him, the world didn’t seem so dark anymore. 

when you moved to florida at the beginning of the semester, you’d made yourself a promise: no boys. no hookups, no flings, no situationships. you’d been hurt too many times, and you weren’t in the market to put yourself back out there. and then you met clay.

the two of you were dead opposites. he lovingly described himself as a stereotypical ‘teenage dirtbag’: a lowlife kid who’d struggled through school and had a shitty home life, but has somehow made it into college. he cheated on all his tests and didn’t do assignments; he’d rather skate all his problems away, surrounded by the pack of slobbering boys he called his friends. his idea of a good time was running from the cops. clay was everything that you weren't- carefree, blissfully clueless, and entirely too calm for his own good. 

your whole life you’d been the ‘good girl’: straight laced and perfectly dressed, an academic superstar and all around teachers pet. you came from a happy middle-class home, and your parents kept up with you in a family groupchat. you’d done just the right amount of  extracurriculars to rise above everyone else in your class, but not enough to make you look pretentious, and spent most of your time volunteering. on the off chance that you had an ounce of spare time, you wouldn’t be caught dead at a house party; no, no, you were practicing piano. 

your friendship made no sense, and yet, here you were.

being clay’s friend meant you were never bored. even while he was living through hell at home, he was funny and sweet and brave. he was the first to get you two into trouble and the one to talk you out of it. he was spontaneous and alive and had a good taste in music. once you started to notice the light he got in his eyes as he flew down hills on his skateboard, the way he laughed so hard his voice would dissolve into silence, or the way he would suck on his straw after getting slurpees, you couldn’t stop. then you started to notice every perfect thing about him and it only made it hurt that much worse when he would cry. you started doing anything and everything you could to protect that light in his eyes, to make sure no more tears would ever fall from them.

but you didn’t want to be clay’s friend anymore- you wanted him, in every sense of the word. you wanted all his time and attention and love and affection. you wanted to be that one that made him smile that stupid, crooked smile of his, and make him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. you wanted clay to look at you the way he looked at life- like a challenge, a puzzle that he wouldn’t stop messing with until it was solved. you wanted to call the lanky, troublemaking boy yours, to take him somewhere where he would never hurt again and love him until he wasn’t broken anymore. against all odds you had fallen for clay, hard, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to get up.

little did you know, clay was feeling the same way. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

it wasn’t odd for clay to just show up at your dorm. it was pretty common, really. he seemed to pop in more and more these days, sometimes with friends, sometimes without. you’d more or less been adopted by the group of boys; as far as you’d been told, they had all been friends since childhood. growing up together, the clan had earned the name ‘feral boys’- one that you didn’t want to know the backstory behind. as far as you knew, they were all loud and slightly aggressive but overall sweethearts, and they’d taken you under their wing once it had become painfully obvious that you had no other friends. again, it was an odd pairing; clay, george, alex, nick, karl and… you. but it worked, to say the least.

clay didn’t have any of the other guys with him this time, barging into your room unannounced. you’d been trying to get him to knock for forever, but none of your protests had stuck. 

“clay!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. you were sitting in your bed, typing away at a psych paper that had been plaguing you for days. “what if i had been naked?”

he fell onto your bed, shutting your laptop with one of his long arms. “then it would be my lucky day.”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him while you prayed that your flushed face wouldn’t betray you. his answer made blood swoosh in your temples, your heart skipping a beat before lapsing into an upbeat sort of rhythm. “yeah, sure- good to see you too. what do you need?”

the blonde boy grinned up at you. “since when do i need a reason to stop by? you like my company,” he boasted. clay wasn’t wrong; you loved every moment that he was around, even the most mundane ones. something about him made you feel more alive.

“are you working on something important?” he asked, his voice taking on an unusual sort of tone.

you lifted a brow at him- clay’s voice very rarely changed from his confident, over easy tone, so when he did, you were going to call him out. “no,” you mused, drawing the vowel out. “why? you seem weird.”

clay’s face morphed and fluctuated before he pulled a tight smile. “you really don't miss anything, do you?”

“nope,” you said brightly, transferring your laptop to the nightstand by your bed. clay was jumpier than usual, shifting his weight and repositioning himself three times before finally sitting up, leaning against your wall. he bumped his knee against yours and the slight, innocent touch sent butterflies out of your stomach, soaring into your chest.  

“clay, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice taking on an embarrassingly gentle tone. you realized that he could be having issues at home again and your heart sank- that would explain his odd demeanor. your chest flooded with affection for the boy, your heart achingly soft as you grabbed one of his hands. clay quickly turned your palm over in his, playing with your fingers as he spoke.

“i want to talk to you about something.”

you froze for half a second, swallowing hard. your throat was dry as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“okay. what’s going on?”

biting at his bottom lip, clay’s face flushed with blood. his cheeks took on a rosy sort of pink tone, and he pulled his eyes from yours as he let out a long exhale. he allowed his gaze to settle on the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the old popcorn ceiling with his pupils. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you secretly loved moments like this- moments where clay was too preoccupied within his own head to realize that you were staring, studying his face. he was the kind of boy you could only describe as pretty, all high cheekbones and bright eyes framed by long, golden-brown lashes. you stayed like this for a moment longer, drinking him in; you’d be thinking of him like this for weeks. every time you got a chance to look at him like this, you added another mental painting of him to your art gallery. in some paintings, he was surrounded by soft orange light, usually sitting on a curb or the lip of a halfpipe. in others, clay was painted on soft blue tones, shadows reinforcing the hollows of his face. 

there was one common thread in all the mental works of him, though: he was never looking back at you. in your mind, clay would only ever see you as a friend- the slightly odd girl that had fallen in with him and his groupies. you truly believed that he only perceived you in small quantities- only ever seeing you when you made a rather good joke or fed him something. the rest of the time- the majority of the time you two spent together- you thought clay seemed so enamored by his own mind, or that he was was too busy doing something else to pay you any attention.

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

clay pulled his mouth to one side, face scrunching up before he dropped your hand, letting it fall on the bed.

“i’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately.”

you blinked, then looked back at clay, unsure of what this meant. his whole body seemed to stiffen as you looked over him- he seemed uncomfortable, which never happened. you dropped your gaze to your duvet and busied yourself with tracing over the floral pattern, your mind seemingly exploding with thousands of thoughts per second. you, for the first time in your life, felt strained around clay, and it scared you more than you’d like to quantify.

“oh. what kind of stuff? do you want to… talk about it?”

“yeah. no. not really, but i’m going to make myself do it. this thing- the thing i've been thinking about- if i don't get it out,” he said, stressing the words as if they had some sort of deeper, more intense meaning, “will just… consume me. you know?”

you did, but you weren’t sure if it was in the same way that clay was meaning. “sort of.” clay groaned and tangled his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots before letting his head fall into his palms. he made another frustrated noise then pushed himself up and off of your bed, beginning to pace.

something was glaringly wrong; clay only paced when he couldn’t release in any other way. even so, his pacing was more aggressive than usual, more stomping than stepping. clay was quickly working himself into a hole, and you were watching him spiral. you knew that he would only rile himself up more, past the point of stopping himself now. 

pushing yourself to standing, you grabbed one of clay’s wrists- his skin was hot to the touch and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and erratic, thumping under his skin. 

“clay-” 

his lips were on yours, hot and rough and needy and the slighted bit desperate as he knotted a hand in your hair, the other cupping your jaw. you froze for half a second, shock flooding your system, before kissing clay back even harder. you were entirely overwhelmed and you could feel the sharp spurs of desire cutting through your blood, replacing it with the yearning you’d been suppressing for months. his tongue tangled with yours, quenching the thirst that you’d only been adding to with an ease, and a small whimper escaped your throat. 

clay seemed to realize how hot and heavy things had become in a matter of seconds and pulled away, running a thumb over your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“oh?” he asked, his usual cockiness returning with a force. you weren’t able to form words- much less piece together a whole sentence- so you settled for pressing another kiss to his lips, answering him in the only way you knew how

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

the two of you stayed like that for a while, communicating through rough, sugary sweet kisses, hands on hips and chests and necks. after you’d kissed until your lips were sore and you were both out of breath, clay had given you a concerned sort of look.

“was that too much- or too one sided?”

“what? no!”

clay had laughed at the way you’d defended yourself, peppering your face with tender pecks. “so you really do like me, huh?”

“i do. i really do, dream,” you stressed, pressing a kiss to the boys scruffy jaw.

“ew,” he groaned, hitting you with the pillow you’d thrown at him earlier that afternoon. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?”

clay had readjusted, wrapping an arm low around your waist and pulling you to his chest, looking you dead in the eyes. “you’re the only person in my life that calls me clay, you know that? and for some reason, it fits. you and me just… fit. we work. we’re so different that we fit together like a complicated sort of puzzle piece.”

your heart swelled and you looked over clay with pure adoration. “we do seem to work well together.”

“ever since you came into my life, it’s like, i can't function without you. like you’re- you complete me, in a way?”

emotion seemed to drown you, and you pressed another kiss to his lips. “the yin to your yang,” you murmured against his neck, burying  your face in his shirt. 

“i will break up with you if you say that again,” he said, laughing, but you knew it wasn’t true: your story was just beginning.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight. 

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten.  For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town. 

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open. 

I really wish he were right. 

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions. 

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour. 

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.” 

Finally, she glanced at me. 

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.” 

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way. 

“Who built this place?” I asked. 

She shrugged. 

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still 

reading the box of oatmeal. 

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it. 

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod. 

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think. 

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips. 

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk. 

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag. 

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.” 

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back. 

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach. 

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure. 

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave. 

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?” 

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book. 

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said. 

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her. 

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions. 

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.” 

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment. 

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. 

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach. 

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed. 

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.” 

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart. 

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face. 

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?” 

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch. 

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” 

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms. 

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what? 

But that’s Morton’s. 

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

[littlemeowmeowschimmy]

Librarian [Namjoon x Reader]

credit: littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // m.list 

Warnings: Daddy Kink, wolf in heat, creampie, etc 

Genre: Smut 

Werewolf:  Kook - Tae - Jimin

Summary:  you should write a fic where joon is a librarian and at first he is all dorky and shy but behind closed doors he's a total daddy 😳😍❤

WC: 5.7k

A/N: I started this at 9 pm. It’s past 3 in the morning. Christ almighty fml i didn’t expect it to be this long nor did I expect to be writing werewolf smut 

He strolled in around the corner of the back desk. His white shirt tightening around his muscles as the end was tucked into his dress pants. He wore his hair up with gel and thick black frames around his eye. One hand was stuffed in his pocket while the other held a book. Namjoon was ready to start teaching his first-class about the library as he was extremely excited. 

Everyone knew there was a new faculty member in the building, but they didn’t exactly know what he looked like. It had been a while since this girl’s academy got someone knew. To hear that it was a male, the whispers started. They all seemed to stop when he stood in front of the class. 

“Hello, my name is Kim Namjoon,” he starts looking at the class filled with girls who were all over themselves over the new librarian. “It’s a pleasure to be your librarian this school year.” It was then that every single girl’s mission was to get under the sheets with the new hottie. 

»»————-　★　————-««

This was your senior year, and all you wanted was to get the fuck out of there. You went to an all-girls academy simply because your parents didn’t want you to go to the public school just a few blocks from your house. So, you drove for half an hour to deal with girls who most of them thought they were better than everyone around. 

While your parents were hunters, you were a hunter in training. What does a hunter mean? A hunter is a person who hunts supernatural beings. Anywhere from demons to werewolves. You grew up most of your life traveling around the country, fighting monsters with your parents. When you got old enough, they settled down in a small town. 

Which was mostly filled with supernatural beings, but they weren’t harmful. Most of your friends didn’t believe that any of these things existed, and that was how you were going to keep it. But it was soon going to change once they found out that their librarian, was in fact, a werewolf. 

Mr.Kim Namjoon was the talk of the entire school. Every girl wanted to get with him and the friends he tagged along with. Namjoon was old enough to be someone’s brother, but most, if not all, the girls didn’t care. Instead, when he walked in on his first-class, every single phone was blowing up. Talking about how handsome in his tight shirt, he looked, how his ass was perky enough that they could stop staring, and everything else in between. 

Your friend Leana was all over that shit when it was happening. You were politely trying to stay away from such topics. You could tell Namjoon was a werewolf just by how he acted around other girls. On top of that, his pack couldn’t stay away from him. Meaning, he must have been the leader. Starting your senior year was just as crazy as when you started your freshman year. Only this time, it was filled with werewolves and stupid girls who drooled over them. 

You soon learned that the babies of his pack were just regular teens. Park Jimin was the eldest, Kim Taehyung, the middle, and Jeon Jungkook, the youngest. There were three others above him, as you heard from Leana, but you weren’t going to ask for names. Instead, you were simply listening through the grapevine. 

Park Jimin and Taehyung were around your age as Jungkook was just a little younger. You already knew Taehyung had mated because of how he acted on school campus. They mainly came when their classes were over and spent most of their time in the library. 

You kept an eye on them at all times, which brought some attention your way. Especially when Jimin found himself bouncing towards you one afternoon. Your head was stuck in one of your books your mother told you to read on. She was hunting ghouls with your father down in Florida and needed as much information as possible. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” Park Jimin pipes giving a small grin. You glance up at him, noticing that the ring around his eyes wasn’t golden. Thank god, because if he lustful, you would probably have to stab him or something. 

“Reading about the supernatural.” You mumble flipping a page in your book. Jimin’s eyebrow furrowed for a second, curious as to why you were reading such a thing. You minded your own business as you continued to read. Taking notes down for your mother. 

“Don’t bother her, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung calls from the front desk, where Namjoon was scanning a few books. Your eyes crept over the spine to watch the interaction the two where having. Taehyung seemed just a little antsy being around this many girls. You could tell that he was itching to get out of here, considering that he already mated. He even looked down at his phone to see if his mate would text him or not. 

“You should shut up,” Jungkook pipes up, taking a bite of his cookie. 

“How many times have I told you not to eat in the library?” Namjoon jabs narrowing his eyes at the smaller one. Jungkook simply shrugs his shoulders and goes back to eating the rather large sweet. Jimin seemed unbothered by this all and turned his attention back towards you. 

“You know it’s not real, right?” he lies. This was the first time you were pleasantly surprised. You set your book down on your lap, eyes moving back towards his. You gave him a kind smile, one you’d typically wouldn’t give to people who bothered you. Even though your mother told you to never admit to anyone you were a hunter, you couldn’t pass this opportunity up.   

“Just like the fangs you pretend to hide aren’t real.” You muse, noticing his jaw drop. Namjoon’s head snapped almost immediately, and he found himself right in front of you. His eyes were dark, and his muscles tensed. Maybe you should have said something different if this was the reaction you were going to receive... 

Looking at him closely, you had to admit, Namjoon was pretty attractive for a werewolf. The way his body was tall and muscular, fluffy hair, and pale skin. His dark eyes and dimples stood out to you the most. But the idea he held himself now, kind of terrified you. You hadn’t been this close to a wolf in years, and frankly, you wanted to run as fast as you possibly could. Maybe if your mother were here, then you could feel slightly calmer, but this was just too much. 

“Mr.Kim,” You start clearing your throat as you sat there with as much confidence as you possibly could. 

“Ms.L/n,” he says, his jaw coming forwards. A small tick that he seemed to have when concentrating. 

“Is there something you need?” 

“How did you know?” 

“What?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” he pauses to look around to see if anyone was paying them any attention. You took a deep breath in and then out as you were closing your book. You noticed all eyes were on you, and now you couldn’t run away from it. Then you reached down into your backpack and pulled out a knife your mother gave you. 

“I’m a hunter, okay?” You managed, slipping it back in. Then quickly stating without trying to cause any panic. “I’m not investing your pack. Jesus, I’m just trying to live a regular life while my parents go out and hunt. Unless you do something wrong, well, I’ll be the one to end you.” 

»»————-　★　————-««

Months had passed since you learned that they werewolves. Or more so, confirming your already growing suspicion about them. You and Mr.Kim were playing roles like you never knew that the other could kill if need be. However, he seemed more protective around the three whenever they came to visit. That didn’t stop you from talking to them, or them talking to you. 

Namjoon was an overall caring guy. He mentioned dropped out of college when the boys were starting their junior year. Which meant he was just a little older than you, but you weren’t complaining. It wasn’t like he was dating you, so you were beautiful with his age. And even if you were dating, which again will never happen, you wouldn’t have a problem with it in the first place. 

You and Jimin became somewhat close to one another. You shared a lot of the same interest, and you joked around with Jungkook a lot. Especially after learning, he mated his best friend after being a heat like a cycle for almost a week. You were still curious as to what Seokjin’s reaction was to Taehyung and how he found his mate, but the others didn’t want to share. 

Even rule-abiding Namjoon wasn’t going to share what happened. Today, you were researching werewolves further as your parents were once again on a hunt. Thankfully, you had some wolves around you, so it was easy enough to ask for their help. Namjoon was the first to jump in since he knew the most, Jimin playing along as well. 

“Isn’t the full moon coming up?” You mentioned glancing at the four wolves around you. Namjoon was in the back, putting a few books away while the two youngest were glued to their phone. Jimin’s eyes perked at that small mention, and he waggled his brows in your direction. 

“What? You wanna become my mate Y/n?” he purrs a crooked smile seeming to grow out of thin air. 

“Seokjin would destroy you,” Namjoon mentioned without turning his back around. You were interested in what he was going on about, but you already assumed that mating a hunter wasn’t the best idea. 

“C’mon Joon, live a little,” Jimin mentioned shrugging his shoulders as he places his hands behind his back. You turned to look at your friend again, noticing that his eyes were darker than usual. Which could only mean that he was breaking the one rule you heard them talk about. Since the younger two had mates to help them through their time of need, it would be difficult for the others. 

Namjoon usually took a few days off when his time came. It seemed like he had found other ways to deal with it, while the others were craving human touch. At Jimin’s mention, Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t respond back to him, which left the curious cat purr in the back of your mind. You turned your attention back to the younger wolf, leaning forwards and asking, "What? He doesn’t go out often?” tilting your head a bit to the side. 

Jimin just shrugs his shoulders at your question. Namjoon tenses when you mentioned him, but he doesn’t do anything else. Instead, he simply minds his own business as he gets ready for tomorrow. It was the end of the week, and the full mon was starting to approach. You couldn’t remember if it was supposed to be tonight or the next night. 

“For as long as I’ve known Joonie,” he says, smiling at the little nickname. “I’ve never seen him have fun outside of the pack.” 

In reality, Namjoon had “fun.” For the most part, the pack usually didn’t notice it because they were enjoying one another. Outside of the pack, his life was pretty dull. He went to work every single day, hung out with some of his acquaintances, read a lot of books, and genuinely enjoyed your company. When the full moon came, Namjoon locked himself in his apartment and sweated the rut away. Jimin’s definition of fun was utterly different from Namjoon’s, and he wasn’t going to correct him. 

You noticed the small tint in his eye once again, and you didn’t say anything at all. Instead, you assumed that he was probably going to find a way to get through his own cycle. When you turned to look at the younger two, it seemed like they were already gone. Due to how jumpy they were from the beginning, you could only assume they both ran to their mates. 

Jimin started to tap away at the table before stretching and pushing his chair back. “I should probably start to get ready for tonight,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head. You scrunched your brows together but didn’t ask him anything. Because Jimin brought a hand up to his mouth and shook his head. It seemed like he wasn’t going to answer whatever question was burning at the back of your mind. 

“Ah, let me finish up a few things, and I’ll take you home,” Namjoon mentions pushing a few of the books to the side and finally grabs a small jacket. He places it in the folds of his arms, then turns to look at you. “Well, Ms.L/n,” 

“Namjoon,” you said, pushing your chair out. “I’ve asked you to call me by my first name,” you said, shaking your head. 

“I apologize, but I’m simply trying to be a proper gentleman,” he answered, flashing you a smile. That’s when you knew, if you continued down this path, you wouldn’t make it out alive....or even single at best. The way his dimples showed, and his eyes creased, had your heart already pounding for him. 

“Proper my ass,” Jimin grumbles, then grunts when he yearns a huge thump to the back of his head. Jimin complains, rubbing the end of his head, then pushes the doors to the library open. You quickly follow after him, hiding your flushed face from the wolf you told yourself you weren’t going to fall for. 

»»————-　★　————-««

Namjoon paces back and forth in his apartment. It had been two weeks, and it hasn’t passed at all. He still had to deal with Jimin and his dumbass idea to mark a vampire, while also trying to figure out what he was going to do with himself. None of his other tricks were working, and he couldn’t only find a female wolf to release himself into. 

He was only in his sweats, and his hair was all over the place. Some of it was sticking to the side as beads of sweat dripped down. His phone was already blowing up with text messages from the pack, trying to figure out where he was. He had to call in and make up some bullshit lie to get him some weeks off. He just started a new job, and this was the bullshit he was receiving only five months into working?! 

Namjoon growls low as he pushes some of his things off the counter. He slams his fist into the marble, cracking it just a little as he does so. These entire two weeks have been hell for him because your face kept popping up at random times. The fact that he was attracted to one of his students, who was just a little younger than him, and all he could think about was you, was completely insane. Namjoon could get fired if he tried anything with you, and hell, he didn’t want to be known as the librarian who fucked one of his students. 

But his wolf had other ideas. His wolf wanted to take you on all fours, with his hands wrapped around your neck. He wanted to see your face covered in his seed, your pretty voice begging for more. God, his wolf wanted to demolish you, and all Namjoon wanted was a healthy relationship with you. He didn’t want to make things awkward because he was two years older than you. Nor did he want to get fired from a job he worked hard on receiving. 

There was a faint knock at the door, and Namjoon could only think of Seokjin coming to check on him. He leans against the counter dragging his nails through his hair. Loudly, Namjoon calls out to Seokjin, telling him to go away. He didn’t want anyone to bother him because he was going to figure out what was going on. 

“Actually, it’s Y/n,” your voice came from behind the door. “Jimin kind of told me where you lived and said maybe I could help you...?” Namjoon’s head instantly popped up from where he stood. He turns around, glancing at the door and shaking his head. His wolf demanded that he opened the door and took what he was yearning for. 

“Since when does Jimin know what’s best for me?” Namjoon mumbles under his breath as he was pacing back and forth once again. “You know the repercussions here, right?” Namjoon questions as he wasn’t even considering opening that door. He didn’t know what was going to happen if he did or not. From in front of the door, you leaned against it. Then you placed a hand on the handle, groaning as you did so. 

“Of course I do,” you answered honestly. “I’m a senior in high school, and you just started working there. Hell, you’re two years older than me and could instantly get fired.” you continued licking your lips. “Plus, I’m a hunter, so that doesn’t mix well with being a wolf,” you added in laughing at that last part, but it was silent on the other end. 

So much for trying to lighten the mood Y/n. You rolled your eyes as the thought passed your mind. Namjoon had barely known you, and even if he did know anything about you, it was surface-level things. Yes, your small acquaintance turned into somewhat of a friendship, but you viewed him as the sweet librarian in your school. 

You were still a senior, and hell, he could lose his job. But, you wanted to help him more than anything. Honestly, it didn’t really excuse the fact that he was still an employee getting with you. Under the law, you were a legal adult. You could make decisions for yourself, but most people don’t consider that part. The school board certainly wouldn’t believe that part when discussing what to do with his job. 

What you didn’t expect was for Namjoon to move closer. You heard the unlocking of the apartment door, and you instantly moved back. You watched as he slowly opened the door, wholly shirtless and sweating. You noticed how golden his eyes were, due to how long it was going to be. You gulped hard, your cheeks flushing a bright red. 

“I don’t think you understand the full intensity of this Y/n,” he whispers, his knuckles turning bright white due to how hard he was grasping the doorknob. You noticed that if he held on any harder, then he could potentially break it. Maybe even - 

“You mean to tell me that you might mark me?” You ask, scrunching your eyebrows together as he didn’t say anything back. Just simply turned his head to the side and proceeded not to look in your direction. You watched with curiosity at how he held himself. Namjoon, a college drop out, your librarian, someone who seemed to have himself put together, was now acting like a teenage boy. You chuckled at the thought of it, but it was soon replaced but his harsh stare. 

Namjoon glanced back and forth, then reached out to take your hand. He moves you in, slams the door and presses his back against it. You looked at his body once again. Noticing with every small movement, some muscles twitched and moved as well. You had to admit, you were smitten entirely for this man. Or was it his body? 

Or was that your hormones speaking? You couldn’t really decide, considering you were in a trance. It seemed like Namjoon was doing a rather great job of holding himself together. You wanted to applaud him for working so hard. But then, you saw his eye twitching. You gulped, biting your lower lip, a habit in which you needed to grow out of as soon as possible. 

“Are you really just here to help me?” he questions again. You noticed that the gears were starting to turn, and you couldn’t help but nod your head. 

“Yeah, Jimin mentioned that you were in a heat like cycle. I figured maybe if -” you paused again then cleared your throat as you were getting your words together. “I know there’s a lot of risks that go into it, but if it helps you pass it then...I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?” 

Namjoon looks back, wets his lips and walks over. He stands in front of you, his tall frame making you feel small. You took a sharp breath, watching as he leans down to cup your cheek in his palm. Without warning, he does the same to the other and pulls your face close. Kissing you with such a gentle touch, you almost forgot he was ----. 

When he pulled back, you were about to say something. However, you were out of breath and found yourself panting too much. Only for him to take you once again, this time losing any sort of control. Namjoon held your cheeks tight in his grasp, making sure you were close. Then one hand drops and presses itself the back of your waist. 

Pushing you as close as you could get. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, and where they landed, you were mortified with yourself. Right at the brim of his sweats as you curled the fabric in your fingers. Namjoon noticed this right away and pulled back. You couldn’t tell if his cheeks were flushed from the heat or if they were from the kiss. 

“What're your hands doing down there, Y/n?” he muses, bringing his head forward to rest against your forehead. 

“I..” 

“You just can’t wait, can you?” he questions, pushing his waist into your grasp. You wanted to say that it was an accident because clearly, you didn’t know what the hell you were doing. Instead, he simply took this and used it against you. Namjoon brings his hands down to yours, merely pressing them together. He then moves one of yours down in between his legs. 

You flushed at how hard he felt under the fabric. This was totally wrong in every sense, but you couldn’t help but feel like a rebel. The rational part of your brain was telling you to stop it, but the irrational part was screaming at you to continue. Then Jimin’s words rang from the other day “You should live a little.” 

“No, I can’t,” You boldly mention looking back up at Namjoon. At first, he was taken back by the confidence you showed, but it quickly faded. He leaned back, still pressing your hand against his cock. 

“Well, I’m sorry to say, but bad girls don’t get the sweet reward of my cock,” he mentions. Now, this was a surprise to you. Who knew Namjoon would have a daddy kink, considering how sweet and gentleman like he was at the academy. 

So you played along with it. “And what do bad girls get, daddy?” this earns a growl from Namjoon. His actions only furthered your point while you took a step back. You placed your hands behind your back and stood tall. Looking at him as you were waiting for his answer. 

“A spanking.” he snarls, reaching back out to grab you by your elbow. He drags you to the nearest piece of furniture. Proceeds to sit down, then swing you over his knee. Namjoon’s hand moved up the back of your calf and across your thigh. Bringing to the nape of your ass. There, he curls his fingers around the muscle, molding it and playing. 

Since you were wearing a skirt, it was much easier to gain access. When you least expected it, Namjoon smacked your ass. With the force of the hit, your body moved against his lap. Your nails raked into his sweats, trying to find something to grasp. 

What surprised both of you was the moan you let out. You more than anything else was taken back by how much you enjoyed this. Namjoon simply tucked that thought away and continued to smack your ass. With each hit, you felt his length twitch against your stomach. 

“T-ah!” You cried, not even getting the number out. Namjoon wanted you to count how many times he spanked you, and you were already messing it up. He had reached twenty, and it was like you forgot how to count. Your throat was already getting somewhat dry, between the moaning and the counting, as your ass felt like it was on fire. 

But the whole point of it all was that you were enjoying yourself. This wasn’t much of a punishment as it was a turn on. It made you want Namjoon more and more each time he smacked his hand against your ass. 

“I didn’t hear you, sweetheart,” he purrs, smacking you again. 

“Twenty!” You cried bowing your head as your hips subconsciously moved themselves up. Sticking your ass more in his line of vision. 

“What a pretty bitch we have here,” Namjoon purrs, smoothing his hand across your ass. “You come to my apartment, sweet and innocent,” pausing as he gives a light tap, which sent a small whimper escaping through your lips. “Only to turn out to be a complete and utter slut on the inside.” 

You could only nod in response since the words weren’t coming to you. Namjoon huffed at such, rolling you over, then set you up. He quickly maneuvers your body, spreading your legs, so they were pressed against his. While your now dripping core was pressing against his twitching dick. Namjoon places two large hands on your waist, his own starting to roll against you. 

The small friction was enough to send sparks throughout your body. He wasn’t even touching you directly in between your legs, and you were already moaning. “I’d never thought I’d meet such a submissive bitch,” he muses, leaning inwards to press a small kiss on the nape of your neck. “I quite enjoy it.” 

“I..I do to daddy..” you whisper this earning you a nice smack to your ass. Once again, with the force of it, your body moves forward. Your hands were bracing the couch behind Namjoon as your chest press against his. He chuckles at your little accident and simply rubs your ass once more. 

His hips never do stop, even as he basically dry humps you. Your body bouncing up now, as his eyes were watching your breasts. Then, he grumbles a few sentences under his breath and rips your shirt open. You gasp, watching him easily tear through the fabric and yank your bra off afterward. He takes your breast in like he was an animal. No pun intended. 

His teeth rank against your nipple, then against your skin. He leaves large love bites all over as if there was no tomorrow. Namjoon took one breast in hand and locked eye contact with you. He was sucking on your nipple, rolling the hard nub around his tongue. 

Then give the same treatment to the other. He was heightening your senses more, watching you completely melt under his eye. When Namjoon pulls away, a string of saliva connected you two together. He swipes his tongue, disconnecting it and then moving to stand you up. 

“Can you do daddy a favor?” he questions, spreading his arms across the back of his couch. You were so stimulated the words instantly fell from your mouth. He grins, patting the side of your leg as he asks you to go into the kitchen. There, a bottle of lube would be hidden in one of the drawers. At first, you were beyond curious as to why he had a bottle of lube in his kitchen. 

But you weren’t going to question anything. Instead, you did as you were told and went straight into the kitchen. You started to panic as you realized he only spanked you and fondled with your breast. You weren’t at all prepared for him in any way, and you had no idea how huge he was going to be in the end. As you walked back, Namjoon still had his sweats on and was sitting in the position you left him. 

He told to hand over the lube, and you did so. You watched as he lathered his fingers up and set it down next to him. He pulled you in by the belt of your skirt, then moved his other hand in. After pushing your underwear to the side, Namjoon inserts two fingers inside. Your knees buckle at the feeling of his index and middle scissoring themselves inside. 

He fingers you like this, eventually moving his thumb up to press against your clit. Eyes still locked on yours as he was giving you as much pleasure as he wanted. You weren’t even close to your orgasm when Namjoon pulled his fingers out.

“H-Have I been good enough yet, daddy?” Your question, your hands coming down to your skirt and unzipping at the side. You didn’t want him to wreck this piece, because you didn’t know what you would go home in. Namjoon watches you strip for him, and his mouth gaped slightly. 

Since it seemed like he was out of commission, you decided to throw something his way. You got down on your knees, spread his legs, and reached inwards. There, you took the hem of his sweats and pulled them down. Namjoon wasn’t wearing anything underneath, so when you saw his length, you gasp. He was large, thick, and his tip angry red. 

You licked your lips slowly, noting that beads of precum streamed down the sides. Namjoon was still in a state of shock when you lean in and grasp him. He groaned at the touch, then seemingly snapping out of it reached forwards to grab your hair. He stopped you, shaking his head and then removing your hand. You sat back on your knees, watching him grab the bottle. 

In a few seconds, you were sitting on his lap again. Namjoon’s hands gripped your waist tightly, then looked back up at you. “There’s no going back, sweetheart,” he says, watching you closely as you glanced in between his cock and his gaze. 

Not another word came from your mouth because you were already lifting yourself off his lap. Then position yourself, so you were hovering right above him. Namjooned reaches in between your bodies, nods his head and watches you lower yourself. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe it was because of the amount of lube he used on you, but whatever it was, you felt like you were in heaven. The way his length stretched your walls, his thickness filling you to the brim. “Daddy,” you mewled, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” he says in response, then smacks your ass. It was your cue to start moving, even as you were slowly adjusting yourself. Your body bounces against his, this new sensation you’d never felt before. Namjoon helps you by holding your waist tightly, moving you along with his own hip thrusts. 

Namjoon moves his head in, planting open-mouthed kisses along your skin. He digs his nails into your waist, the pain of it, causing you to moan louder. You reach in between, your fingers moving slowly against your clit. Namjoon noticed, however, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Instead, he wanted you to experience the long drawn out orgasm. 

Because Namjoon was too sensitive and you were overstimulated, you both felt your ends starting to creep up on you. This caused Namjoon to flip you over onto the couch and plant his hands on either side. He digs his nails into your waist, pushing you back against him as his thrusts became harder and faster. He was fucking you into the couch as the animal inside took over. 

Making sure he was hitting your sensitive nerve endings over and over again. This brought your moans into cries as you were praising him with every bit of sound. Your fingers move quickly as you could feel your own end getting closer and closer. You closed your eyes, allowing your body to ride the wave, that was until a sharp pain erupted. 

What Namjoon didn’t realize was he took one of your breasts in hand. Moving it up to his mouth as his canines sunk deep into your flesh. Breaking the first layer and ultimately marking you. In doing so, your orgasm hit you like a wave as you felt your walls clenching around him. 

Then you felt his seed erupt inside. Filling your core to the brim with his essence as he held his grip on your breast. You panted harshly, watching as Namjoon pulls away from you, blinks a few times, and then pulls himself out. 

“Shit shit shit,” he grumbles, scurrying to grab his sweats as he was now back to his senses. You lay down, chest still rising and falling, but processing everything. You did not just have sex with your librarian, who marked and came inside you, did you? 

“I’m on birth control..” you start rolling yourself over and glancing at the tattered fabric you called your favorite shirt. “I think I’m more worried about you marking me than anything else.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Namjoon answers glancing back in your direction. You looked down before glancing upwards. Only to notice that he was still rock hard, and his eyes were still golden. This piqued your interest as you were sexually interested in everything he had to offer. 

“Maybe we can discuss that after you fuck me again alpha,” you purr positioning yourself in an erotic pose. Namjoon stops his pacing and glances at you once more. His eyes go straight for the mark on your right breast, then to your ass. He gulps as now his instincts were taking over. Namjoon was drawn to you, everything about you. 

He walks over, bending down, so he was eye level. Then proceeds to say, “I don’t really like the term alpha. It doesn’t suit me,” smirking as he finishes. “You know what to call me, sweetheart.” 

[snowlessknitter]

Things The Golden Girls Got Wrong About Florida

Now, we all know how much I absolutely love The Golden Girls. While the show is set in Miami, Florida, the show itself was produced in Los Angeles and created and run by Hollywood people. And of course, there are some things that the show does get wrong about Florida culture as a result. Here are a few of them.

Floridians, in general, do not use the term “lanai”. The term “lanai” is actually of Hawaiian origin and refers to a covered/roofed porch or veranda. (Which means that Blanche’s lanai isn’t even a lanai in the original sense of the word, since Blanche’s lanai is open-air and does not have a roof over it.) “Lanai” is kind of seen as a term used by rich people or people wanting to appear fancy, and the majority of Floridians aren’t rich or fancy. The term that Floridians usually use is either a “porch” (which would be a raised area) or a “patio” (a concrete or tiled area resting right on the ground); Blanche’s lanai is more properly a patio.

There is no such thing as the Sunshine Cadets. Florida has Girl Scout troops just like everywhere else. And we do love our share of Girl Scout cookies as well. (My personal favorites are the Thin Mints, Samoas, Peanut Butter Patties, and S’mores.)

As far as I know, there is no such town as Appalachichobee (although we do have some city names that come from Native American terms), and trains in Florida usually do leave on time. The town featured in the episode “Bedtime Stories” is fictional, and the name is a combination of “Appalachian” and “Okeechobee”. And while Lake Okeechobee is very prominent in Florida’s geography, the Appalachian Mountains come nowhere near Florida. In fact, Florida’s highest point is Britton Hill, which has an elevation of just 345 feet above sea level. (Florida’s terrain is classified as coastal plains, and thus most of our land is flat. The lowest elevation in the state is sea level.) As for the trains...as far as I know, there is no place in Florida where trains regularly leave early. As for the ticket vendor’s accent...he sounds more like he’s from Georgia or the Carolinas than from Florida. Most white Floridians speak in what’s called a “Florida Cracker” accent that sounds more like a southern drawl than the lilt associated with southern gentry/“southern belles”.

Most Floridians say “vayse”, not “vahse”. The pronunciation of “vase” with a short A is seen as unnecessarily fancy, and being that most Floridians aren’t rich or they live in the more rural areas, we typically say “vase” with a long A like most other people.

The baseball game that Dorothy, Sophia, and Stan attend in the episode “Bang the Drum, Stanley” is definitely not a Major League Baseball game. Although the Dodgers are mentioned in the episode, Florida did not have its own Major League Baseball team until the Florida Marlins began play in 1993 (the then-Tampa Bay Devil Rays, now the Tampa Bay Rays, began play in 1997). At the time the episode aired in 1988, Miami had one minor league baseball team, the Miami Marlins of the Florida State League (named in honor of a previous minor league team that had relocated to Puerto Rico after the 1960 season), and was renamed the Miami Miracle the following year. That team relocated to Fort Myers in 1992 and became the Fort Myers Miracle, the name they would play under until 2019. This year, the club changed its name to the Fort Myers Mighty Mussels. It has been the Single A-Advanced affiliate of the Minnesota Twins since 1992. The Major League club, the Florida Marlins, changed its name to the Miami Marlins in 2012. As for the Dodgers, the closest Dodgers minor league affiliate at the time of the episode’s original air date was the Vero Beach Dodgers (and Vero Beach is up in Indian River County, about 130 miles and a two-hour drive north of Miami). The Vero Beach Dodgers have since relocated to Port Charlotte, Florida and now play as the Charlotte Stone Crabs. The Stone Crabs are currently the Single A-Advanced affiliate of the Tampa Bay Rays.

Any other Floridians out there who can point out things that The Golden Girls may have gotten wrong about Florida?

[branchgrcy]

Get to know BRANCH GREY  who’s THIRTY-ONE years old and is a LIBRARIAN in town. He is from FLORIDA and is often times mistaken for HENRY GOLDING while others say he reminds them of BRANCH from TROLLS. 

BASICS !

Growing up branch was such a happy, fun, and musical child. He loved playing, singing, and dancing. So much so that one day he was so distracted by a song he'd been singing as his grandmother tended to her garden that he failed to hear her warnings as the local serial killer who'd been terrorizing their town attempted to grab him. Rosiepuff sacrificed her life for her grandson. 

Branch has blamed himself for her death ever since that day. His grandmother was his best friend and it's something he still hasn't forgiven himself for.

He lost his love of music that day. He hasn't sang once. He feels if he hadn't been so lost in song, she'd still be alive. If you ever catch him listening to music, it's sad and depressing.

His trauma from witnessing her murder caused branch to become withdrawn and isolate himself from everyone. He became obsessed with being prepared for every situation possible. He vowed to never fail anyone else again the way he failed his grandmother. Despite no one believing him, he never stopped doing anything he could to be prepared for every worst case scenario.

On top of taking self defense classes, Branch also began taking up martial arts. He's a black belt in karate, jujitsu, tae kwon do, and Krav maga.

Branch is a very quiet man, outside of preaching his warnings to everyone he doesn't speak much. He likes it that way. Instead, he buries himself in his many activities including woodworking which he learned to whittle his own weapons and foraging so he can know how to survive off the land if need be. 

Since he learned of poppy moving to corona, he had no real choice but to tag along. He knew the kind of trouble poppy could get into and in his eyes, someone needed to protect her. Upon arriving on the island, one of the first things he did was have a panic room installed in their home followed by scouting locations for an underground bunker. In a land full of magic, he needed to be prepared for anything and everything. There were endless ways things could go wrong. He couldn't miss any single one.

Magic absolutely terrified branch. He's seen firsthand what people with no magical abilities were capable of, he couldn't stop thinking about what those who had them could do. He's wary of those with powers on the island and with the exception of a few, he tries to avoid them at all costs. 

One thing branch has always found comfort in books. Whether he's letting himself get swept away in a fantasy novel or reading the latest biography, literature is one thing he takes pleasure in. He doesn’t like to distract himself often but sometimes when he's too stressed out and nearing the end of his rope, it certainly helps.

Branch took a job at Corona University's library and teaches self defense classes in his spare time. He has a very strict no nonsense policy in both areas.

spent years in love with poppy but never told her how she felt due to different relationships she was in. since moving to the island, he’s been working on moving on from her and accepting they’re always going to be just friends.

FUN THINGS !

very grumpy man.

owns a lot of flannels.

used to drive a pick up truck but got something safer since lily rose was born.

probably drives a prius now tbh.

drinks a lot of coffee.

need a tool? he’s got you.

want a bunker too? give him a call.

poppy might be the island mom but he’s not the island dad, please don’t call him that he’ll short circuit.

very outdoorsy.

teaches self defense on weekends.

doesn’t trust banks.

ever watch new girl? he’s very nick miller.

goes to mcdonald’s with poppy and guy and only gets a black coffee. then he leaves.

only listens to pop music bc of poppy, he hates it but it makes her happy so.

has a 3 yr old golden retriever named rosie after his grandma.

if you’re thinking about talking to him, dont.

big on conspiracy theories.

loves documentaries and true crime.

listens to talk radio.

taurus? aries? idk someone help me.

enjoys hiking.

likes raisins.

might be my only heterosexual. tragic.

has tried every kind of MRE to stock his bunker with.

believes the dairy industry is a scam but WILL fuck up some froyo.

hates balloons.

cotton eyed joe is his panic song.

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

friends. one or two as a treat.

students.

nature enthusiasts.

conspiracy theorists.

the jess to his nick.

maybe a hook up? idk.

everything !

[thedeeperlayer]

I was fourteen when I first tasted the sweet, aromatic blend of tobacco, sugars, and ammonia compounds. It was 1998. The year of Clinton and Lewinsky. The year the guy from Die Hard was saving the Aerosmith-adjacent Earth from a Michael Bay Meteorite. 

I was fourteen. Instead of navigating the intolerable 3D world of Hyrule in Ocarina of Time, I was out making an imprudent moron out of myself with an RCA Solid State Image Sensor VHS Camcorder. My idiotic entourage and myself thought we were the uproarious epitome of cool. In actuality, we were ridiculous, annoying fuckwits. I was an absolute pain in the ass.

I'm not going to cock and bull with excuses. I started smoking because I thought I was fucking cool. I had older friends that did it and I dated girls that did it. When my mum found out I was flicking the Bic on the cancer stick, she was both disappointed and somewhat content. Her contentment for my lung corruption behavior was only because it meant she now had a smoking mate.

Mum and Pops didn't always have a harmonious relationship. They would cross swords and oppose each other's views a lot. Mum would complain about Pops never being home. Pops would bewail mum's smoking habit. It was always constant repetition down the same path. Dad never knew I smoked. He would of berated mum and blamed her if he ever found out.

Because of our shared toxic pastime, my mum and I became very close. We discussed all things life. Everything from grace and elegance to the septic shithole bottom. We talked about atrocious dislikes and stupefying satisfactions. We told mindless jokes and gave deep-thought opinions. 

For the sake of storytelling length, let's just say we always had each other's back. 

Unfortunately, the clock ticks, and the hours pass. In a blink of an eye, things are different. I grew up. I got married. I moved. Mum was downhearted and sad. I was the first of her children to leave from beneath her roof. 

I've worked lousey, shit jobs just to make ends. It is indeed accordance with fact, smoking does alleviate stress. I didn't think it was cool to smoke anymore, instead I smoked because my shitty job was an emotional mindfuck. Pounding the coffin nails down my throat made me feel better. 

I didn't want to poison my saclike respiratory organs anymore. I tried quitting. I tried the gum that supposedly calms cravings. I tried the rubber band wrist snap when I had the desire. I tried the ridiculous electronic substitutes. Nothing worked. I thought, fuck it. I didn't want to grow old and become one of the dust bags that retire in Florida anyway.

It was October, 2015. I was just finishing a much needed break from my mediocre job. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was mum calling. I contentedly answered it. 

She said she had a mass on her lungs. She told me not to be worried, it could be pneumonia. She said she would let me know more tomorrow. 

I instantly broke down and wailed. I could feel that something was extraordinarily wrong. My heart was in excruciating pain. It was exceedingly difficult to finish my shift that night. Every time I was alone, my eyes would swell. It was a long, tedious night.

The following day, I anxiously waited for mum to call. 

Haplessly, she called right before I had to go to work. She said it was stage 4 lung cancer. She told me not to worry. She said she was going to get help. I knew stage 4 was the inevitable. It's treatable, but not curable.

I was so heartsick.

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

My family was devastated. Mum is the support beam that holds my lunatic family's structure together. My brother and sister were in severe shock. Pops was completely shattered. 

The following week, my wife and I picked mum up from the hospital. She was being fitted for a radiotherapy mask. Mum was spiritless. She lacked vigor and enthusiasm. She looked defeated. This was the one time I convulsively, and uncontrollably sobbed in front of her. If you knew mum, she was always resilient and enduring. She was wholehearted, and a matriarch to many. It was challenging to see her in that frail condition. 

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

Mum had sort of a short fringe hairstyle with spiky bangs. She would ornament it with a decorative headband. Often she would dye it golden or honey blonde to hide the off-putting grays. 

The days passed. Weeks. My wife and I made frequent visits. Mum was sitting in her recently purchased stationary style comfy chair. She was wearing a sun-style flat brim cap. Mum never wore hats. “I'm losing my hair,” she said. She lifted a grocery sac where she was accumulating a large cache of her hair. 

Eventually Pops shaved her head. 

My wife and I purchased her a collection of hats.

The holidays came. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Mum always took pride in cooking the meals. She couldn't anymore. She was too weak. She could hardly walk. It was now Pop's responsibility to  prepare the brown sugar glazed ham. She shouted out the recipe to him in the kitchen. “Heat the honey and sugar until it dissolves!” Pops would earnestly urge her not to yell. She was always short-winded and depended on oxygen gas to breathe.  

Christmas morning was grim. Mum kept saying she wanted to have a nice Christmas. “This might be my last Christmas. I want it to be nice,” she despairingly would say. 

We wore smiles but they were fraudulent. Inside we were somber. Cheerless. Gift exchange was dispiriting. We were appreciative, but it was hard to express it. The only audio in the room was the pulling and shredding of novelty wrapping paper. We played unintellectual board games while Mum sat in the living room and stared at the TV. The Hallmark holiday collection was on but Mum wasn't interested. She was disconnected, absent of response. 

My wife and I went home. I lit cigarette after cigarette.

January came and went. February came. Mum had gotten worse. We went to visit her on my birthday. She was without emotion. Unresponsive. Pops struggled to make her recognize my company. She was comatose-like. Pops was in a panic. We rushed her to the ICU. She now had malignant brain tumors. Her recent actions were symptoms. The drowsiness. The constant agitation. 

She was given enough treatment to restore her moral senses. She asked to see me and my wife. Mum was stretched out on a hospital cot. She was buried beneath intravenous lines and hoses. She saw us and smiled. “Watch this,” she gently said. She proceeded with plucking the pulse oximeter from her finger to mortify the doctors. She still had her sense of humor. 

Later, Nurse Ratched impertinently pulled my family away from Mum. She disrespectfully spoke of Mum's unavoidable fate. Ratched told us that Mum will die. She told us to make sure we make the correct decision when the time comes. 

No one in my family wanted to hear that. 

The hospital discharged Mum.

My wife and I went home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag, hardly inhaling. I breathed in a few more. 

I delve into searches about the great demise on Google. I’m not one who appreciates surprises, so I wanted to be hauntingly prepared. 

As the end approaches, your role is to be present, provide passionate comfort, and remove doubts from your loved one with soothing words and loving actions that help maintain their mental ease and dignity.

The entire evening I fixedly scrutinized my phone screen. It made me overwhelmed with grief. It put me in an unsettling place. It was that night that I accepted that my Mum was actually going to be gone.

Her condition continued to worsen.

It was difficult for her to digest food. She no longer could intake any solids. Pops couldn’t accept the harshness of the situation. He was in rack and ruin. Blatantly, he would hurry to the nearest fast-food establishment and order her a strawberry milkshake. In double time he would speed home to give her the malted treat. She would fiercely vacuum in the strawberry drink through a straw. Clearly she was hungry, but her gasping, pain and abnormal breathing patterns made it difficult for her to swallow. 

Pops told me, the prior evening, he strenuously got Mum into the loo. He proceeded to aid her, however she immediately denied his assistance. “Let me help you,” he despairingly said. “But you're a boy and I'm a girl,” she woefully baffled. 

Delirium. One of the common symptoms observed near death. 

Pops was hysterical. This unforeseen responsibility was so unfamiliar to him. He was terrified. He was frightened to lose the one person he spent his entire life with. 

Again he rushed her to intensive care.

My wife and I were at home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag and quickly put it out.

Mum was denied anymore treatment. She was recommended hospice care and medically necessary equipment for at-home use. 

Pops thought hospice may not only be valuable to Mum, but also beneficial to him because the workers could assist him through the inexperience and unexpected. We all knew what misery and despair would come next, but Pops was in a idiosyncratic denial. 

Hospice was fucking useless, but more on that a little later.

My wife and I visited her everyday. 

Each day she worsened and disintegrating. 

She was often confused. She would appear asleep, but her breathing would be noisy, congested. She would appear peaceful and at rest, and within seconds she would begin screaming. She would holler agonizing cries. Dad would have to pump her with morphine to tranquilise her treacherous pain.

Day after day, her conditioned intensified. Her skin's pigment distorted to a grayish tone. Her face had depressed and sunken below her eyes. Her lips dried up and shriveled. 

The drainage bag connected to the catheter began to fill with a rust color. 

She had abnormal growths swell in unusual parts of her body.

Day after day we visited. She no longer would move. The congested breathing was the remaining sign of life. We attentively watched over her like this for days. She didn't want to go. She dearly loved her family. The Oncologist asked her, “what do you live for?” Her response was so straightforward and emotionally rewarding. She said, “my family”. Mum was uncomplicated. She lived to be a loving mum and caring wife. She always put her family first. That's who she was. 

She died on August 22, 2016. She battled cancer for seven months. She spent nearly four weeks in hospice care. Only four short instances was Hospice workers available for aid, one of the times being immediately after death. The available nurse plucked an orange Marigold from the neighbors’ garden and lied it in my Mum's cold hands. She called the Funeral Home to coordinate arrangements for pickup and hastily left. 

It was a horrifying experience for my family. Not only for us observing every nightmarish minute, but for Mum too. I can't imagine how afraid she was and how she felt. I just hope it wasn't guilt that resonated with her in her final days. She was the reason my family was so profound and passionate about things. The reason we were all there, again and again, expressing our sorrow and love together.

I haven't smoked a cigarette since her later days in hospice care. 

She was a beautiful, loving person, and we watched her severely weaken and diminish largely because of a lifelong bad habit. I never want to put anyone I love through that, ever again.

[mythologymonsterlover]

Male! Angel Lover

A girl who wants to be on her own for once, meets a man she never realize always been there for her in her deepest time of need. Welcome to her story about love at first sight~

Warning: sexual content, cussing

Female Reader X Male monster

I say this many times, but I'll say it again, I have stupid luck.

Ever since I was a little girl, I escaped death only by a hair. People always said it was because an angel was watching over me, but I never believed that for a second. Growing up though with this surprisingly good luck and being a restless kid, I managed to turn out as a somewhat normal person. I grew up in Florida but now live in Colorado, with my grandma who owns a flower shop. I moved here since I liked the colleges here more than in Florida, and also to get away from my over possessive mother who I love dearly.

It just hard to grow as a person when your mother is still reminding you to get up for school at the age of nineteen. So moving out to live in a totally different setting seemed like the best way in starting my new independent life. I started working for my grandmother as her store’s cashier, and I do classes in the early morning in order to earn my bachelors degree. everything seemed to be going well...until tonight unfortunately.

I was at my grandma’s store at eleven when I strange man walked in that looked homeless. I didn’t say anything at first since I didn’t want to be rude, but he picked up a glass vase then drop it with shaky hands. It made a loud crash, and shattered into tiny little pieces on the ground. Startled, I rush over to where the man was and pick up the broken vase, and when I look up I already see another vase in the man’s grasp. Before he could drop the other to the ground, I grab it out of his hands gently but forcefully and set it down. The man looks at me wide eyed,

And I keep a smile on my face as to seem less imposing on him.

“Sir, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you to pay for that.”

I point to the place the shattered vase fell at and his facial expression turns from surprised to annoyed.

“It was just an accident, lady..” He says while scratching at his matted beard, and goes to walk away from me. Being annoyed and startled by the way his acting, I grab the back of his shoulder to get his attention once again. He turns his head slowly, giving me the stink eye, but I don’t waver. I point to the telephone and say, “If you don’t pay for that sir, I’m going to call the police.” With that I turn around walking away from him, back to counter with my arms crossed, and wait for the man to pay for what he's done. The creep gives me a disturbing grin, while shaking his head back and forth as he walks to the counter.

“Alright, so it’s like that…” he says under his breath, reaching for his jacket pocket. This is where I realized I’ve made a grave mistake,

as instead of pulling out a wallet, he takes out a gun. The points the barrel of the gun straight at my head, and I don’t even breathe as the man walks around the counter right next to me. He pushes me roughly to the ground with his other hand, and starts to rummage in the cash register drawer. Being filled with fear, I stay on the ground unmoving as he collects all the money putting it in his bag. After what felt like forever, he finally turns to me, still pointing the gun at my head. He grins mockingly, and with little courage but a lot of anger now I speak up.

“I’ll make sure the cops get you.” I say through gritted teeth, being so damn angry at the asshole I start shaking.

He looks at me wide eyed for a moment, but bellows out a laugh at my pitiful state.

“Oh sweetie, they won’t, since I'll make sure you never get to them.”

Being frightened by his statement I become dumbfounded until I hear a click.

The click of a gun.

He aims it at me with two hands on it now, and I can tell he definitely loaded a bullet in the chamber.

I realize in that horrible moment, that he was going to kill me.

I wanted to cry out, but because I’m so choked up with fear I stay paralyzed.

I’m going to die, and know one will know who did it because we don’t even have security cameras in the store. We hadn’t in years, and the fact that this man properly knew this sicken me to my core.

“See you in hell, sweetheart.” The frightful figure says to me, and i'm ready to feel the pain of the bullet go through me as I shut my eyes so hard, they hurt.

Yet I don't feel a thing.

I waited in anticipation for the shoot to ring out, but instead all I hear is a heavy breath from beside me exhale, and then a sudden thumb like something fell over. Breathing hoarsely by the fact that i'm not dead by now, I open my eyes to see something I never expected to happen in a million of years. Their right in front of me, a man who looks like a librean hold the gun up in the air, and is twisting the hobo’s waist so hard the guy yells out in agony. I don't make a single sound as the tall intellectual throws the gun across the room, and lifts up the jerk by the collar looking him straight in his eyes.

The creep freezes up in fear at being the helpless victim in distress now.

“Went through so much trouble to be a real pain tonight, didn’t you Jeremy?” the weird looking tall guy says with a hint of annoyance, and fixes his glasses on his face as he drops the hobo to the ground. The jerk looks absolutely feartrighten by the other man’s words and backs away to the edge of the room to create as much distance as possible.

“H-How did you know my name!?” He yells out, but before he could say another word the stronger man snaps his fingers, which forms a white gaping hole underneath the hobo. Then just as suddenly, the creep who was once a frightening figure before me, vanishes into a portal into god knows where, disappearing from my sights for good.

At this point, the shop is so silent it hurts, and the only noise I could hear was my own beating heart ringing in my ears. I didn’t know how to react so I just sat there on the ground shivering in fear, feeling tears stream down my face as I try to hold back my gasping sobs. The man who saved me just stands there, and he doesn’t moved from the spot like he should to make sure I’m alright. When I start to calm down to try and assess the situation, is when he finally looks at me. I don’t move again in fear, knowing it’s stupid to be acting like a rabbit caught in the head light, but it was a primal instinct that was natural to me.

I didn't move as the weird looking librean man walk slowly right in front of me, and crouch down to my eye level.

“My, ever since you were young you always seem to be on death’s list.” He mummer incoherently like he was speaking to himself, but not directly at me. Scared of what just happen and by his random closeness, I back away from him and bring my legs to my chest. The man then seems startled by my reaction, and back away from me as well.

“Wait, no, you can't..” He trails off as he reaches out his hand toward me. I react by flicking my head away then by lifting my hands to cover up my face. I don't want him or anyone to touch me, I just want to leave.

“Keep away from me please.” I say with a weak but frighten voice, making sure he got the message that I didn't want to have anything to do him.

This is when things just get even weirder though, as the man gasp backing away from me like I just try to punch him or something. Confused by his response I lift my head up to meet with his eyes. I didn't get a good look at him before, only what his back and side looked like, but that i know see him face first i'm bewildered at his appearance even more the before. He indeed is wearing glasses, but the color of his eyes are what startles me the most right now. Instead of being a normal color like brown or blue, they are a shining gold that looks like the sun. His hair is a deep sliver like an old man hair would be, but his face is as youthful as a man in his prime years. Young and handsome looking, he raises an eyebrow at me and tightens up his back.

“You..can see me.” This time he says directly at me, and I nod my head slowly at his oddness in his voice like he can’t believe it.

“Of course I would..you just saved me, right?”

He nods his head in confirmation, but has a sicking whiteness like he just seen a ghost. With shaking hands he walks towards me, bends down to my eye level once again, and speaks now with emotional strain in his beautiful voice. Feeling like I’m no longer in danger, I let him touch my face, letting him run his fingers down my cheek. I don’t know why, but his entire being feels so familiar that him being so close doesn’t bug me the slightest. As my eyes meet his golden ones, he snaps back from his trance like state and recoils away from me. Being more startled then confused, I get up on my own two feet once again and walk slowly towards him.

“D-Do I know you?” I say sheepishly, feeling like a preschooler asking if she did something wrong. The man though doesn’t make eye contact with me anymore, and turns around to walk away.

“Wait, who are you sir?” I say yelling out, but can’t move my legs to grab him.

It’s almost feels like I’m glued to the spot, so I don’t even attempt to run after him. He looks back only once, and I hear him mummer something under his breath.

“Don’t follow me.” Is what I think he said.

Just like that though, he walks out the door into the night, disappearing like a ghost. I didn’t move for a couple minutes at the very least, but when I finally do, I grab my keys and lock the store door.

I’m pretty sure I had enough for tonight I think.

…

My days after the incident were pretty rough, since I had to call the police and order security cameras for the store. I didn’t want anyone else to deal with what I had to ever again. Especially when my grandmother told me she had problems with that hobo in the past; that just caused me to be afraid. Yet after all the cameras were installed finally, I went back to work. I didn’t want my grandma to worry too much about me, so I promise I would work only in the day time. Also, the man that saved me that night never came forward about who he was. I looked all over town for him, but I couldn’t find the guy and assume he must have been a visitor.

This morning I decided to clear my head by walking into the woods, where there's a path that leads to the shop. I just couldn’t bring myself to drive to the place today since my anxiety was over the roof. Walking down the path this morning seemed to especially calm down my nerves.

That’s until I saw the man again...the man who saved me from that hobo.

I stop dead in my tracks when I saw him, not wanting to startle the stranger. Looking around at my surrounding, I see that we both are in the middle of the forest, which means we aren't too deep or too far from people. He hasn't notice me it seems, and looks relatively calm while sitting on the beach. Knowing this is my only chance to ever thank him for what he did, I walk toward him until I’m only an arms length away. I stand there for a moment, hoping that he’ll notice me any time now..However, he keeps reading a small book, not even noticing I'm near him the slightest.

He must really like that book.

I decide to take initiative and reach out to tap his shoulder. This is when things get weird again, as my hand goes right through him. I pull back startled, and feel my anxiety rise up in my entire being. He must have notice that my hand went through him, as he looks toward be bewildered.

“What are you!?” I yell out, not being able to register what just happened. The man is taken aback by my shouting and drops his book to the ground. Intensely, he just stares right back at me with what I can only describe as awe.

“..You can see me.”

I nod my head, confused as to why he thinks I can’t see him. He said something like that the last time we were together, and was fascinated by me looking at him which caused me to feel a little bashful. Right now, his looking at me like he did when we were in the shop, but I still can’t see why that would be.

“Why wouldn't I be able to see you? I mean, your standing in broad daylight..”

His taken aback for a moment, but seems to regain some composer as he straighten up his posture and adjusting his glasses. He coughs in his fist, like his trying to clear his nerves, and reaches for me to shake his hand.

“I’m sorry ma’am for being so...rude. My name is Chamuel, it's nice to meet you.”

I play nice, and shake the odd man’s hand. As I feel the embrace of his hand touch mine, intense pleasure goes through me. It’s not any kind of pleasure though, but unconditional love for someone that can’t be expressed by words. Not able to understanding these emotions, I pull my hand away quickly and hold it to my chest. Chamuel not being startled by my reaction this time apparently, lets out a small laugh as to calm down me down. I look into his natural golden eyes again, and reflect on his weird appearance. Still needing answers, I repeat the words I said to him just a couple of seconds ago.

“Are you even a human, Chamuel?”

It seems like an crazy question to ask, but not as crazy as when my hand went through his body. Chamuel doesn't look at me weirdly from my question. He picks up his book off the ground and sit back on the beach. His rubbing his chin as he sets his book beside him, while staring down at his lap in deep thoughts. He nods his head a couple of time to himself, then when his done he looks back up to me with more clearness in his eyes.

With a small smile, he says, “Your quite the unique one to be able to see me, and to answer your question, no, I’m not human.”

Feeling a little light headed, I back away from him to comprehend if this is really happening, or if i'm just dreaming. He looks at me concerningly by my reaction, and gets up to grabs my shoulder to ease my balance. He moves me to the beach, than places me right next to him. He keeps his hand on my shoulder, and I feel calmed by his presence more than frightened.

“Have you ever read the bible?” He says with the sweetest voice I ever heard. It literally causes me to melt in shyness in front of the handsome man.

I shake my head back and forth in response, as I never did believe in Christian beliefs. It just seemed ridiculous to believe in a being that seemed so unreal. Even most of my family were atheist, as they saw god as a figure of people’s imagination. The man nodded his head in understanding, and looked out to the green forests. It was so quiet that I couldn't hear a single bird chirping, which also happened at the shop when Chamuel appeared.

“Why are you asking me question? I should be the one asking you.” I say nervously, more to say anything in this uncomfortable silence. I also didn't’ even thanked him; which I just wanted to do and leave.

Talking about if god is real or not seemed to be a waste.

He looks down at me though like he understood what I was thinking, and simply says,

“It’s not important, I was just curious.”

Then with that, he gets up and puts his book under his armpit.

He smiles while waving at me warmly.

“If Jeremy comes back to the shop, just say my name and I’ll be there for you.” He says nicely, and begins to walk away.

I get up to follow him, but before I could even take a step, he evaporates into thin air.

I’m left speechless with only a single thought running in my head: Who the hell is he?

…

I started to do research on what I could have possibly seen, trying to connect theories I have by what he was like.

I’ve been up for a week, and read stories about ghost, demons, and whatnot. It’s only then do I realize he gave me the most important clue to what he was really.

The Bible.

He asked me if I read the Bible, and I think he was actually hinting to me about what he was. When I finally see what I’ve been missing, I go to the library and pick up a copy of the Bible.

It’s when I get home and into my room with the book I see him again. He was laying on my bed, and had a somewhat smug look on his face. I nearly had a heart attack by seeing him, that I grib the door handle as I huff out a angry sigh.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I say walking into my room, putting the Bible on the table.

“You wished for my presence.”

The man who claims to be called Chamuel simply states, and sit upright on my bed.

“Are you some kind of incubus?” I say annoyed, since he looks like his craving something. It would make sense as he is extremely good looking, and has a alluring nature that’s hard to ignore.

Chamuel though seems disappointed in my answer as he lets out a sigh, and gets up on his feet. There, he looks toward the photo of my mother and me which was taken a year ago.

“You grow up with quite a loving mother.” He says quietly, and turns to walk towards me.

I don’t move as he stands before me, and slowly move his hand to caress my cheek. He once again looks deep into my eyes with his golden ones, which causes the world around me to disappear suddenly. I emerge into what I can only describe as a different world, as I see Chamuel standing on a rocky shore looking into a vast ocean. His entire being looks different though - because instead of looking like a normal guy- he has now pure glowing skin and wings that spread across his back. I’m still uncertain about what this means, until a book I never seen forms before my eyes in midair. I grab it reluctantly, and the pages move on their own until they rest on a single page that states:

“I will help you realize judgmental attitudes, even if your unaware of them.

I will help you use your shortcoming as an opportunity to connect with your higher self...

As I am the angel of love and forgiveness, and I’m here to bring warmth into your heart.”

When I look up again, I truly see him.

Standing over my frame with so much love in his eyes, I feel I could break down crying on the spot. I move my hands to touch his face, and very calmly I move my

face closer to his.

I was scared, but I place my lips on his, not knowing why but feeling the need to be closer to him.

Chamuel does not refuses me thankfully, and kisses back with such love in his touch I feel light headed again. We stay like that for only a moment though, as we pull away with admiration in gaze of each other.

“Your an angel.” I say breathlessly, and feel his arms wrap around my back as he brings me back to his lips, sliening me with a kiss. Its deeper this time, and I feel my body react with pleasure from his tough engulfing into my mouth. He sucks on my tough a couple of times that causes me to shudder, and I move my hand to his chest rubbing it with love. When he detaches my mouth from his, he moves his lips to my chest and start sucking on a sweet spot on my breast. I let out a small moan from the pleasure, and move my hand down his pants as he does the same to me. Very soothingly, we stroke each other at our most sensitive spots. I was the first to feel my inner core heat up from his touch, as I felt the sweet release of myself come undone upon him. He kept stroking me even after I already came, and I felt the need to finish this before I passed out from the overbearing pleasure that I was receiving.

More braver than before, I move my hand out of his pants and move my head instead down to his couch. He looks at me bewildered for a moment, but seems to understand what I’m about to do when I pull down his pants. His dick comes out half hard, and with this being my first time doing something like this, I stroke him a little more before I emerge my entire mouth on his shaft. I let it go as deep as I can bear, and slowly move my head up and down with a somewhat strong need in my core still. I keep hearing him mummer unadible word under his breath, which then turn into louder grunts as he grabs the ground around him with his first.

After a few more up and down motions of my mouth, I feel his cum in my mouth and the heavy load it was. I don’t feel comfortable with swallowing it all, so I let some of it trail down my chin onto my bare chest. I look up at him, making sure I didn’t go to far with doing this, but he looks back at me with loving eyes as he wipes my mouth. He bring me up into his chest, and I happily lay there as I hear the claiming ease of his chest falling up and down. Chamuel rubs his hands down my back as I lay there, and I feel myself never wanting this to end.

“Chamuel, will you stay with me?” I speak somewhat afraid, not wanting to be selfish but also not wanting to let this holy man out of my grib ever again. Chamuel stops rubbing my back, and moves one of his hands under my chin in order for me to face him. There, his golden eyes glow radiantly with love, and he places his head to mine.

Then he says the words that I never knew were true, but what I needed to hear my entire life.

“I have always been here with you, and I will never leave your side until the end of time.”