#this was buried deep in the drafts (october)

[un-pearable]

one of my favorite early zane facts: he is just SO excited about it. absolutely zero complicated feelings about finding out he’s a robot he is 100% all in from day one thinking it’s cool as hell and he’s right! he’s right

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

next chapter

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[angelsdevils]

October 1, 2024 - Kakucho Hitto (TR)

A/N: Re-Written to fit the theme of halloweenlmao. Tokyo Revengers Warning: Obsessive behavior, supernatural elements, murder mentions, psychological horror

Tag List: @reiners-milkbiddies @thisbicc @bontensbabygirl @useless-potatho 

At first you thought you were going crazy — there was a shadow in your peripheral vision, the cold draft on a still night. No one would be that interested with you, right? Wrong. He wasn’t just stalking you — he was haunting you, a figure that followed your every step, protecting you in ways you never asked for.

But on October 1, 2024, it all became clear. You had returned to your home after a very long shift. Your boss made you work a double only one break. You were soaked to the bone from the sudden down pour. As you stepped into your house, a wave of warm air and the scent of your favorite meal hit you. It was comforting at first, but then red alarms went off in your head. You lived alone. No family. No friends. No one to cook you a meal. Lightening flashed outside of the windows, casting a twisted shadows on the floor. On the stove sat a pot of chili, still warm, and beside it was a note. 

“I know you had a hard day. I made you chili, don’t worry it’s safe to eat. Rest well, love. <3 – Yours Always. 

A chill ran down your spine, and you checked every room in the house, but there was no sign of an intruder — no sign of forced entry either. Just the presence of something dark. You felt a pair of eyes on you the entire time, but no one was there. 

What made you realize you probably needed psychological help though wasn’t because of fear. For some reason, you felt safe and comforted. You went to reach for your phone to call the police, but a message buzzed across your screen: 

Unknown: Don’t call the cops. I won’t hurt you. I’m here because I care for you. I love you. 

You: Who are you? What do you want from me? 

Your hands trembled holding your phone, falling into a chair in the kitchen. 

Unknown: Just a man in love with you, Someone who wants to protect you. I can’t reveal myself, once I do, you’ll never be free from me. 

You: Reveal yourself. 

No reply came that night, but the next day you woke up, something had shifted. You walked out of your bedroom after getting ready for work. You went to the kitchen to grab your keys but you froze. You found a bouquet of flowers on the counter, and inside the flowers was another note, and a black card. You know the card that has no limit? Yeah that was there and in it was engraved your name in gold lettering. You picked up the note and read it.

“Don’t worry about work. Your boss won’t be a problem anymore. I’ll take care of you from now on, my love.” 

Fear swirled in the pit of your stomach, and you had a strong urge to turn on the news. So you rushed to your living room, and turned it on. The news headline scream: Local Man Found Dead in an Office Fire — Foul Play Suspected. Your phone buzzed again, and you shakily opened the message.

Unknown: Don’t be sad. I don’t mean to scare you, But he confessed that he was going to hurt you. Now, he can’t. I won’t let anyone harm you.

You took in a deep breath, you didn’t know how to respond. You just stared at the message, tears falling from your eyes. You looked back at the new, quickly turning it off unable to stomach such a thing knowing he died because of you. Your fingers finally moved across the screen.

You: Why? Why would you do this to my job? To my boss? You say he was gonna hurt me but… why?

Unknown: I can’t tell you exactly what he planned to do with you, just know I have access to the black market, and I saw something I didn’t like. No one will hurt the girl that I love. No one. 

You dropped your phone, burying your face into your hands sobbing quietly. You were terrified even though deep down you felt safe around him, he still did something terrible what if one day he turns on you and severely hurt you?

You: How can you love someone you have never met before? 

Unknown: We do know each other, we have known each other for a long time, since we were kids. 

You: When…. can I meet you? I think I deserve who is doing all of these things. 

Unknown: That’s not a good idea, you will never see me the same as you do. But if you really want too, I can reveal myself. But as I said before, you will be mine completely. 

You: Can I atleast know your name?

Unknown: The rules are still the same… are you sure?

You hesitated, if he told you his name or revealed himself, that meant you would be his and only his. That terrified you, but you had to know. 

You: Yes. 

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, it was comforting kind of. A cold breath hit the back of your neck. Slowly, you turned around, your heart was pounding in your chest. Standing directly behind your couch was Kakucho. You were raised in the same orphanage as him. Shadows stretched out on the floor, his dual color eyes stared at you one red and one white. He had a grin on his face it was sharp. 

The house lights flickered off, all at once and a candle lit on its own. Your head snapped to the candle before going back to Kakucho. 

His shadows wrapped around your ankles and you gasped as they brought you to him. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly. He buried his face into your neck, taking a deep breath.

“You smell so good, you always did. Like caramel apples. Like… home.” He whispered against your skin.

“Kakucho?” You whispered. But he wasn’t the same person you knew, he wasn’t even human. He had horns on his head, and the shadows wrapped around you like a warm embrace. 

He stepped further into the room, with you in his arms. The candle light flickered crossed his tanned skin, his clothes was streaked with blood. You could see the outline of something monstrous beneath his human form. 

“You have always belonged to me, I was just simply making it seemed like you had a choice.” His voice was softer then the winds outside. “I have been watching you since we separated and I joined Bonten. It was the only way to protect you from a fate worse than you could imagine. From things that were worse then me.”

“You aren’t human anymore…”

“I was never human,” he said. Your breath hitched and his blood hands brushed against your cheek. His touch was freezing cold. You couldn’t help but flinch. “I killed him for you,” he said, referring to your boss. He leaned down, and pressed his lips against yours. “He was going to do terrible things to you… I couldn’t let that happen.”

“What are you, Kakucho?” 

He gave you a small smile, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “I am not alive or dead. Just a monster, that was sent to seek havoc on this world, but after meeting you when we were kids, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything to harm you. The closer we got, we became bound together. No matter where you go, where you hide, I will find you. We are stuck together, like the red string of fate. Except this is something much darker. 

He pressed his lips against yours once more, and suddenly you felt exhausted. His cold lips lingered as you faded into a darkness and fell into his arms.

“I love you dear, you will be okay. I promise.”

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners. 

[jaime-brienne-fic-exchange]

The Handy Dandy Posting Guide

Posting Guide

As hard as it is to believe, we are here: the opening of the Jaime x Brienne 2024 Fic Exchange collection! I know, I know, it feels like prompts went out yesterday. But it's okay if you aren't quite done yet--the posting window is two weeks, so there's still time!

However, if you do know you cannot complete a fic please reach out to me as soon as possible so a knight writer can be arranged. Life happens and there’s no shame in needing a little help.

Now with the collection opening soon, here’s some FAQ on posting!

How does posting work?

There are two options: (1) Go to the collection here, and in the top right there will be a ‘Post to Collection’ button (2) Upload your fic to ao3 as usual, and make sure you enter JaimeBrienneFicExchange2024 in the collection field. From here, the process is the same. Fill in the relevant details and ensure you put your recipient’s AO3 name in the ‘Gift this work to’ field. Double check your original prompt to ensure you have the correct name. A few people have different tumblr/AO3 names and we don’t want any fics to go astray. If you’ve already made an AO3 draft before the today, make sure you add it to the collection and put in your recipient’s username in the fields mentioned above, and make sure you change the date when posting (or your fic will be buried). Be aware it can cause some shenanigans where the fic may not appear at the top of the page.  After that, it’s as simple as clicking post! Your fic will be submitted to the exchange and automatically be made anonymous. 

I can see my name, something went wrong!

Deep breath. As the author, when you open your own fic (posted or in a draft), it will say ‘Anonymous [YourUsername]’, but to other users it will simply say ‘Anonymous’. If that is not how it appears, double check that it is added to the correct collection and reach out if you still have a problem. Author’s names will not be revealed until October 7th, when I click the button to reveal them. Feel free to reply to comments during that week. As long as you are logged into the account that posted the fic, all of your comments will also be anonymised. 

What about Lil’ Oathkeepers?

I’m glad you asked, imaginary exchange participant that’s totally not me talking to myself! A Lil’ Oathkeeper is a gift that can be any size and shape. It can be art! A video edit! A moodboard! A fic shorter than 1000 words! Or… a fic longer than a 1000 words, but you probably know that. Anyone (you don’t even have to be signed up to the exchange) can make and gift a Lil’ Oathkeeper. I’ll be releasing the prompt spreadsheet and posting instructions once all gifts are posted.

Can I thank my beta in the notes of my story?

Absolutely you can! The betas of the fandom work HARD, they definitely deserve recognition. Just be mindful of including anything in your notes that might reveal who you are. You could choose to name your beta, or just thank them generally and add their name after authors have been revealed.

What if I don’t receive a story?

Everyone gets a story. Authors have until September 30th to post a complete fic, so chances are they just haven’t posted yet. It also might be because your fic needed a knight writer to write it. If this is the case, know that your knight is probably working very diligently to complete it, but might not be able to complete it within the posting window. If it looks like your fic will be significantly delayed (like until after authors are revealed) we will contact you directly to let you know what’s up.

What’s the etiquette around thanking my author? 

It can be hard to know what to say when you get a gift fic. Maybe it takes the prompts somewhere you hadn't imagined, or maybe you love it so much high-pitched pterodactyl noises are all you can manage. Maybe it's both. But it is good manners to leave a kudos and a comment. It doesn't have to be a long comment, and length does not equal love, but your author worked hard and deserves to have that effort recognised. And if you don't quite have time to read your gift right now? Please pop in and say so if you can!

Can I promote my story?

Please don’t do this until authors have been revealed through the collection. Once they have, go wild!

Can I rec my gift story?

Absolutely! Share the love! You can choose to rec it while it’s still anonymous, or wait until the authors are revealed. It’s up to you.

Have another question that hasn’t been answered in the FAQs? Just reach out! I can be reached via Tumblr, Discord, or jbficexchange@gmail.com and will get back to you ASAP!

I'm sure the panic is kicking in, but I promise you have time to create and share something wonderful. Keep calm and have fun, I can't wait to see what you have written!

[avatarmerida]

hi!! I just wanted to say that I was the anon who requested huntlow with Willow's parents and im– thank you so much, that was so sweet ;; I love your fics so much! I hope you have a wonderful day, thank you for sharing your awesome writings with people <3 :]

Note: this has been sitting in my drafts since October. I have very bad habit of drafting a response and forgetting about it but I did have an alternate version for the “meet the parents” prompt in mind. Original for reference No FTF spoilers just a headcanon I’ve head for awhile. 💚💛 also thank you so much that is so sweet

---

“... and it turns out fireflies don’t actually catch fire in the human realm which is so weird! Like why even call them that?” Willow continued, taking a deep breath as she tried to fit months worth of stories into mere minutes. She knew they would have plenty of time to catch up and she had her photo album to show them but she had just missed her dads so much and had so much time to make up for. “And then, oh wait I should probably let Gus tell you about cars he explains them so much better than I could and we-.”

“Oh petal we’re just so glad you were safe,” said Gilbert as he and Harvey wrapped her into another hug, they had months worth of hugs to catch up on too.

“I mean, I knew you were,” said Harvey, his eyes still stung with tears left over from their reunion. “My daughter is sweet and tough, like a cactus blossom.”

“Oh, you dorks,” Willow sighed fondly, allowing herself to be buried again by their embrace. “I missed you too.”

“We really must meet this Ms. Camila to thank her for taking such good care of you all this time,” said Harvey, giving his family an extra squeeze.

“Yes,” agreed Gilbert, wiping a lingering tear from his daughter’s eyes, still in disbelief that she was truly there with them. “We owe her so much for bringing you back to us. We should have her over for dinner.”

“Oh my Titan yes of course!” said Willow, looking around for the others. The group had separated to focus on different tasks and after Hooty had confirmed everything was done and everyone was safe, she ran off to find the cell where her dads were being kept. ”There’s someone else I really want you to meet too, I just don’t know where-.”

“Willow?” came a voice from seemingly nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

“Hunter?” she responded instantly, looking around to search for him. It felt like lifetimes since she had heard his voice, yet it had only been a day. A chaotic, hard, dramatic day. She turned and spotted him at the end of the row by the entrance of the prison and took off running. “Hunter!”

“Willow?” He turned and saw her running full speed towards him. He took off as well, his heart racing. “Willow!”

The dreamy and desperate way he said her name prompted her to summon a vine to ride on to reach him sooner. She hadn’t wanted to separate, but there was too much ground to cover in such little time they had no choice. Before they had parted, Hunter had wrapped her in a tight hug and Willow wanted nothing more than to return to that moment and now have that same warmth and closeness surrounded with safety and certainty.

He had also whispered something to her right before he left that she wanted him to repeat in a calmer setting to ensure she hadn’t misheard.

In his eagerness to reach her, with the same sentiment in mind, Hunter unintentionally teleported to the spot she had been when he first saw her. She turned and saw him standing there in confusion but she simply just changed directions and ran towards him again. Hunter was so overcome by the sight of her, safe and sound after the terrifying and dangerous day they had endured that the moment he took a step forward, he found himself teleporting again, essentially switching places with her.

Willow couldn’t help but laugh as she realized it had happened again. She ended up back by her dads who watched on in confusion, slowly piecing together what was happening and exchanging a knowing smile between themselves.

“Stay there, I’ll come to you!” They both called at the same time. They both laughed, so overtired and so desperate to be near each other.

“Should I send a vine over?” she called, overwhelmed with anticipation.

“No, no I can figure it out!” Hunter called back, still adjusting with controlling the lingering magic linked to his emotions. “Hold on!”

“Is that him?” asked Gilbert with a smile, knowing from Willow’s overjoyed expression that it could be nobody else. She subconsciously adjusted her hair as she gave them an excited nod to confirm. Despite only having a few minutes to reconnect and try to explain everything, Hunter’s name managed to come up many times. And the bubbly, airy way that she said it with was not lost on her fathers.

They had so missed the way she would roll her eyes when they would playfully ask who she was messaging, the giddy way she would lean against the wall and gaze at her scroll and claim it was no one. They were relieved to know that in the time they were away she had been with someone who made her so happy.

And they were delighted for the opportunity to pester the both of them together.

“Yeah, that’s-.” Before Willow could finish, she was cut off by Hunter teleporting directly in front of her and lunging forward to capture her lips in a purposeful and fervent kiss. His hands delicately cupped the sides of her face, rough and calloused but unmistakably gentle as his fingers brushed the side of her cheek. Willow instantly closed her eyes feeling like she was the one being transported this time as she rested her hands on his chest. It took very little prompting for her to return the kiss and she tilted her head to the side to bring him closer.

When he pulled away, it was only because he wanted to look at her. He was breathing heavily and Willow couldn't tell if it was from all the back and forth or because he had forgotten to breathe while he was kissing her. A part of her wanted it to be because she was just that breathtaking. She felt as thought she might float away if Hunter removed his hands from her.

“-Hunter.” murmured Willow faintly as the rest of the sentence caught up with her. The word left her lips with a new definition and she genuinely wondered how she had ever existed anywhere except this moment. He was surrounded by the glow of a pale pink light, sparkles and shine that far surpassed anything the Collector could summon.

She could tell by the wide adoring look in his eyes that this glow reached her too.

“Willow,” he responded softly, thinking she was saying his name looking for an explanation for his impulsiveness. He spoke quickly, refusing to waste any more precious time. “Willow I- I’m just so glad you’re safe. I just don’t know what I’d do if you were… but I knew you’d be fine, I knew you could handle it but I still… I just-.” He leaned forward and kissed her again, obviously feeling that words were not enough. As much as Willow enjoyed hearing him voice his feelings, she had to admit she wholeheartedly agreed. She smiled against his chapped lips that sparked with warmth as though static electricity was surging through her and sought to flood her chest with lightning.

When he released her this time, he pulled her into him a tight hug, moving one of his hands around the small of her back as the other cradled the back of her head as he buried his face in her hair. Willow exhaled as she eagerly returned the gesture and put her arms around his torso and felt the galderstone in his chest beating furiously, which she knew only occurred when he felt a strong emotion. She didn’t realize how worried she truly had been until she wasn’t anymore.

“Hunter...” she started, stepping back to look at him, placing her hands on his face to wipe away his own tears. She was surprised he had any tears left but she was relieved they were present under happier circumstances. She realized how easy it would be for her to pull him forward and kiss him again, and how much she wanted to. She could tell that that what he was hoping for as she tried to remember what she had begun telling him. She knew there would be plenty of future opportunities now that there was no rush or pressure or end of the world making the decision about whether or not it was the right time. It was hard to imagine that the right time wasn’t all the time .

But the secluded romantic bubble that Hunter had brought to surround them was actually fairly transparent as Willow remembered with flushed cheeks that they had an audience. “Hunter… “ she started again, and he brought his face out to see her, thinking she was giving him permission to kiss her again. He slowly leaned down, but right before he met her lips a third time she finally mustered the strength to finish her sentence. “...these are my dads.” She said slowly, gesturing to this side with her head.

She felt Hunter tense up, mostly in confusion, as his eyes followed her nod and he turned his head slowly to find two older men looking at them with matching smirks, offering him a small wave. He recognized them from WIllow’s drawing in the human realm. He prayed that it was somehow possible that they hadn’t been standing there the entire time. The nervous chuckle Willow emitted confirmed his prayers would be in vain.

He felt the romance bubble pop.

“Hello sirs!” Hunter said, suddenly a combination of pure nerves and formality as he removed his hands from Willow in order to extend his hand to her fathers, not sure whose to shake first. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“From the looks of it, I’d say the pleasure’s all yours,” said Gilbert and both he and his husband chuckled lightly at some inside joke Hunter did not understand but knew he was involved in.

“Ha ha ha, yes of course,” Hunter said, laughing nervously, not sure what else he was meant to do. In all the times he had imagined this meeting, this had never crossed his mind. He was meant to be dressed up and prepared, his arrival planned and with flowers, not returning from battle in a torn Halloween costume with his hair unkempt and caught in the middle of-

“So, our Willow has told us so much about you,” Gilbert said, in a friendly chipper tone. “Clearly, she hasn’t told us everything.”

Hunter glanced quickly at Willow, flustered all over again at the idea that he had come up, as her delicate smile confirmed the claim. As reassuring as her smile always was, Hunter still wondered what he had to live up to and if his impulsiveness had contradicted or confirmed anything. He was sure Willow had been fine with it (actually he was more than sure that she had been more than fine) but he could not decipher how her fathers were feeling.

Was he in trouble? Should he apologize? Would apologizing be taken as an admission of wrongdoing? It certainly hadn’t felt wrong. He wondered now if Luz was hiding somewhere nearby laughing at his expense, having been the one to tell him to go for it the next time he saw Willow. Should he act like nothing had happened? Was he pausing too long thinking these things before audibly responding?

He had just done battle with monsters literally composed of his greatest fears and this somehow felt so much scarier.

He cleared his throat and carefully chose his next words.

“I’d just like to say-.” But before he could finish, he vanished again into a flash of gold. Willow could tell it was his nerves getting the best of him and his panic had removed him against his will. She knew he was probably embarrassed beyond belief that he had allowed himself to be teleported mid introduction, even though Willow knew it had not been done on purpose.

A faint yell of frustration from a great distance confirmed her suspicion. Willow sighed and shook her head fondly, knowing everything about this moment meant to much to him.

And he meant so much to her.

“So does that happen… a lot?” Harvey asked after a moment when Hunter did not instantly reappear.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, kind of.” Willow replied dreamily, still catching her breath. “He’s still getting the hang of it.”

“Oh, really? Should we be be concerned?” Gilbert asked. “Does he know what he’s doing?”

“I think so,” she said, looking down the pathway again, knowing he would reappear at any moment. “It’s driven by his emotions and he’s still figuring out the best way to express them.”

“I see,” said Harvey. “I’m assuming his emotions for you must be pretty strong considering he didn’t even hesitate.”

“Um, well I dunno I guess… wait, are you talking about the kiss or the teleporting thing?”

“Well, I guess it depends,” said Gilbert sharing a knowing look with his husband. “Which one were you talking about?”

a knowing look with his husband before, lowering his glasses to give her a look of intrigue. “Which one were you talking about?”

[loosingmoreletters]

second draft of chapter 9 of deeper than the ink is done and will be edited tomorrow morning. I'm hoping to get the others done by october the latest so that for NaNoWriMo I can work on the sequel or one of my other long fics in the work.

Most likely I'll go for patching the road with vague intentions or buried deep with the roots. patching the road is fully planned and easy to write quickly but buried deep is just. a whole lotta vibes and worldbuilding but no plot yet.

[bereft-of-frogs]

hello friends, it is October 1, I am at my PEAK spooky bitch, in honor of this have a list of bad summaries of everything I'm working on for whumptober (and a reminder that I have been flaunting the 'rules' of whumptober for 5 years, not planning on changing now, won't start posting until Halloween 🎃)

Day 1 (safety net, swooning, 'how many fingers am I holding up'): unlikely hero deeply resents being forced to save everyone (status: outline only, eehh sort of lower on the priority list, probably won't get finished tbh)

Day 2 (delirium, 'they don't care about you'): dude just really fucking hates a teenager for no reason; bad vibes are infectious (status: I have 332 words, should be able to finish)

Day 3 (journal, solitary confinement): I once again attempt to make found footage happen ('stop trying to make found footage happen, it's not going to happen--') (it's going to happen) (status: I'm obsessed with this, it's at 1.2k, I think I can get this done)

Day 8 (overcrowded ER): ack crowds (status: 299 words, but it's an old draft so finishing will mean getting over the cringe factor)

Day 11 (animal trap, captivity): yet another character who was definitely supposed to be dead is in fact not and is going to make that everyone's problem (status: barely an outline, I've been kicking this one around for ages but I'm sort of torn on how deep to go into the disturbing content, so...we'll see. if anything it will probably be just the first chapter of a wip)

Day 12 (red, insomnia): second chapter to a currently posting WIP in which our characters play detective, make an ill-advised, true-crime-obsessed friend, and debate the nature of ghosts (status: first draft done! needs second, currently at 7.4k, posting this one on Halloween)

Day 13 (cold compress, infection, 'I don't feel so good'): first chapter of a future WIP (I'm embracing the serialized nature of fandom) in which there are concussions, dreams, and deeply held headcanons (status: 272 words...I think I can finish it? the outline is extensive)

Day 14 (flare, water inhalation): :) big water = bad (status: 434 words, but also there are more because I'm kidnapping a cut dream from the dark ocean duology. the dreams in that got a little out of hand, but some of the cut ones were really fun so I'm glad I found this one a home)

Day 15 (suppressed suffering): deeply unfair consequences (status: first draft done, 3.2k)

Day 19 (psychological): you can't convince me that consultants aren't evil geniuses (status: 2.5k, there is 0% chance of this being finished, because it's going to be long - this is the outline that I wrote at work last week that made my hand go numb - but using the prompt as a springboard to work on it. this took over my life for a couple days last week)

Day 21 (vows, restraints, 'don't move'): folk horror #1 (yes there are two) (status: vague outline only, unlikely to be finished)

Day 23 (shadows, stalking): literally my worst nightmare (status: so this is actually excerpts from my nanowrimo project, because I need a little push to get it started and not just re-outline it again. I have one scene written in a notebook, so we're starting to chip away at that barrier)

Day 25 (storm, buried alive): HAUNTED HOUSE!!! 👻💀👻💀 HARVEST FESTIVAL!!!!!!! 🍂🎃🍂🎃STORM!!!!!!!!! ⛈️🪦⛈️🪦YEAAAAAAAAHHHHH-- (status: 269 words, this one is a late addition idea but I'm moving it up in the priority because it is the spookiest, I'm obsessed)

Day 28 (bloody knife, sacrifice): folk horror #2. this one came to me in a dream. (status: there's an older draft that has like 2.7k in it but like Day 19, I want to be able to do it justice, so I doubt it will be finished, but it's a good springboard)

Day 29 (troubled past resurfacing): a little interaction I have absolutely no business writing (status: done, 1.1k, debating moving to Day 6 (recording))

Day 30 (bridal carry): literal. babies. (status: I have about a thousand words here but I don't...love them. I really want to finish it though. I did math for this. Sort of stretching the prompt on this one.)

Alt Prompt 10 (shaking): SADNESS. 🥲 (status: first draft done, currently at 2.4k, manifestation of my denial)

'hey, you said there were 15 ideas, why are there 17 here--' shutup

laying them all out like this is slightly stressful, especially because I've become a two-draft minimum person, but I have a plan. I think I'm going to focus on first drafts until the weekend of October 14-15, when I'm going up to dogsit for my parents, then after that shift priority to the second drafts of what I have finished. I think that's...doable...? we shall see!

[slafkovskys]

I posted 2,421 times in 2022

1,559 posts created (64%)

862 posts reblogged (36%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@2manytabsopen

@lucafantilli

@workingforitallthetime

@penaltbox

@jostystyles

I tagged 2,298 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#asks - 1,194 posts

#anonymous - 1,056 posts

#umich hockey - 193 posts

#jess rambles - 130 posts

#please leave a message after the queue - 126 posts

#new jersey devils - 78 posts

#thomas bordeleau - 66 posts

#my moots &lt;3 - 64 posts

#brendan brisson - 58 posts

#draft lb - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#‘you’re lucky that i love you’ his tone is light and teasing but you can’t help the feeling of dread that stirs in your stomach at his words

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hear me out girl dad beech

baby was born senior year of high school and the mom is out of the picture so Beech is trying to juggle his junior year and a two almost three year old.

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s baaaccckkkkkk

“do you want your water?” you ask the little girl, looking down as she curls her arm around your knee. she’s quiet for a moment, staring at a group of boys on bikes passing by across the street and you clear your throat, smiling down at her when she looks up, “earth to leni.”

“daddy?” she responds, pointing her finger toward the arena. her tiny fingers poke at your knee as she looks at you curiously.

“yes, we’re going to see your dad, len, but do you want your water, ma’am?” the almost three-year-old takes a deep breath before looking away, back towards where the bikers had now turned the corner and disappeared. going with your gut, you grab the starbucks cup that was full of water and shut the car door, and hold out your hand, “hold please.”

her tiny hand grabs onto your bigger one and you start in the direction of the arena. she asks for her water and you hand it over, grateful that you now had one less thing to hold onto as you come to the door. you type in the code that you absolutely were not supposed to know, but johnny had given you anyway, and hold the door open for the little girl in the lavender leotard. once the door closes behind you, leni looks up, a silent ask of permission, and you let go of her hand, letting her weave her way through the hallways of yost. you stay hot on her trail though and when you finally make it to the open arena, it doesn’t take long before her presence is noticed.

“noureen!” a few of the boys chorus and she giggles, grabbing onto your hand again for help down the stairs.

“hi,” leni (real name eleanor, but growing up around hockey was rarely called eleanor) says as she gets to the glass. “daddy!”

johnny skates over, looking at you with raised eyebrows as you lift leni to stand on the brim of the glass, “hi baby. how was dance class?”

“we played and then i, i got a cake pop!” leni turns to look at you, “can i have my shirt honey?”

leni knew that your name was y/n, but after she heard johnny’s mom call you that once, she had refused to call you anything but. you hum, “yeah babe.”

you set her on the ground and pull the umich sweatshirt over her head picking her up again as the boys start to swarm, “cake pop? where’s mine?”

she hides her face in your neck, “i ate it.”

grano gasps, “i thought we were friends, noureen! now, who am i supposed to watch finding dory with?”

“not me,” eric chimes.

johnny, who looks more than annoyed with his roommates’ banter with his daughter, nods his head towards the bench, “bring her over here.”

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222 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

#4

i frequently think abt the concept of staying over at boldy’s and having to borrow some of his clothes and he’s just… speechless? at you in his clothes with his last name & number on them.

happy birthday bolds 🥳

“alright kids,” jordan sighs, clapping his hands together which causes you to jump. matt chuckles, burying his face in your neck as his teammate crosses the room and flicks on the light. jordan clears his throat, suddenly serious, “bolds, lemme see your hands.”

your cheeks burn as matt pulls his hands out from under your sweatshirt where they had been tentatively playing with the waistband of your leggings for well over an hour. you turn your head away from the burning gaze of your boyfriend’s newfound landlord, “jordan-”

“we had an agreement. in case you’ve forgotten, two words: community spaces,” he says simply before you hear his retreating footsteps. “goodnight lovebirds. drive safe, y/n.”

“thank you,” you call, but it’s muffled by the couch cushion that you had practically buried your face into with the hopes of it swallowing you whole. matt’s fingers dig into your hips and you shove at his shoulders, “that was so embarrassing.”

“what was embarrassing about it?” he pushes himself off of you so that you can sit up and wrap your arms around yourself, “that he caught us cuddling?”

you roll your eyes, “he thought we were doing more than cuddling, matt.”

“i mean, i definitely would not object to that,” he sends you a lopsided smile before he leans over, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. you let yourself melt into him and before you know it, he’s got you laying back down on the sofa and when he’s pulling away for air he utters the words, “you should stay here tonight.”

“what?” your eyes widen and his face falls, “no, i mean, really? you want me to spend the night?”

“yeah, it would be nice to wake up to you in the morning. besides, we don’t have practice tomorrow. we could go and get breakfast or something,” he plays with your fingers nervously, avoiding your eyes now, “but if you’re not comfortable with that-”

“no! i- i want to! it’s just, would jordan be okay with it? i don’t want to intrude…”

“he just likes to mess with you, y/n. he doesn’t mean it,” matt reaches for his phone that was on the coffee table. he types something out with one hand while the other rests on your leg. it’s quiet between the two of you for a minute before his phone chimes and he turns it around so that you can read what was said. under a message sent to jordan asking if you can stay the night was a simple:

i don’t care. make good choices because you’re the only kids allowed in my house.

you look at him with raised eyebrows, “are you going to be making good choices, boldy?”

“i’m a good boy, i can keep my hands to myself,” he looks almost offended that you would suggest anything otherwise. his lips turn into a pout when you look at him expectantly, “hands will be kept above the waist unless directed otherwise.”

“you should stick to hockey because your pitching skills are terrible,” you shake your head, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

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252 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

#3

Okok that pic of bords got me thinking…. Hear me out… matching promise rings 🥺🥺

you got the text right as your professor announced that if you weren’t paying attention, now would be the time to tune in. it came in the form of a notification on the side of your computer screen, a little blip that you couldn’t click fast enough and tune your professor out. sorry sherry, your focus would be back momentarily.

just landed. can i go to your place?

you know where we keep the key

he reads it immediately and the response bubble pops up before it disappears just as quickly, and instead, a pink heart appears on the left corner of your message. you click your pen twice before looking back up at the screen in front of you, trying not to let your mind wander off to thoughts of thomas, but it was easier said than done.

he had called you last night as soon as he was back in his hotel room and you were on the phone for hours, but you maybe spoke for a total of thirty minutes. you could hear it in his voice that he either wasn’t ready to talk about it or didn’t want to. you had planned to be there with him, in the stands cheering on just like you had been every other step of the way this season, but with a lousy communications professor assigning an exam the same day as the frozen four semi-finals with no way to make it up without a legitimate excuse, you were stuck watching from home.

your professor continued on and on for forty-five more minutes before she turns off her projector, her silent way of dismissing you all. you were one of the first people to cut out of your lecture hall, heading straight for your car. it seems like the world knows that you’re on a mission because you miss every green light and you’re pulling up beside thom’s car in record time.

you’re making your way up the sidewalk when your front door opens and thom’s form fills up the space. your body almost deflates when you see him, “thomas…”

“not right now,” he mumbles, barely audible as you cross the front porch. he takes your backpack off your shoulder and leans inside, hanging it on the coat rack that was just inside the door. he steps forward then, wrapping his arms around you, practically melting into your body, “i’ll talk about it with you later because it’s not good to keep it in, i just don’t want to be a hockey player right now. i want to be thomas. i want to be your boyfriend. i want to be normal.”

he nuzzled his face in your neck and you wrap your arms around his waist while he curls his fingers in your back, “yeah, that’s fine. whatever you want, whatever you need.”

you aren’t sure how long you stand outside on your porch, a comfortable silence between the two of you as cars pass by. one even honks, startling you both and he chuckles against your ear, “was that for us?”

“we’re the only people out here,” you respond, “it was very unnecessary.”

“very,” he says, reaching to pull the door closed before curling his fingers with yours. “i got you a present, when we were in boston.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, thom,” you send him a small grin and his cheeks flush, “but now that you’ve told me about it, you have to show me what it is.”

“close your eyes first,” he says and you playfully roll your eyes before obeying his demand. you hear him rustling around in his pockets before the sound of something hitting the ground causes him to let out a string of curses, “don’t open them yet!”

“i’m not, butterfingers, calm down.”

“do you want your present or not?”

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274 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

#2

no nut november bet. umich boys. y/n and owen power. hed be dying and so would u, he would be the first to go

warnings: language, nsfw, mentions of cockwarming, lil bit of dom/rough owen at the end

you hear the stairs creak under his weight and your stomach churns as you let out a shaky breath. it was now or never. he has a muffled conversation with kent before the knob turns and light from the hall floods into owen’s bedroom. you watch as his tall frame fills up the door before he closes it behind him, mumbling a string of apologies, “sorry to wake you up.”

“i haven’t been to sleep,” you admit, rolling onto your side to watch as he empties his pockets onto the dresser. he unzips his jacket and tosses it into a pile of dirty laundry that he had been swearing that he was going to do for a week now, “did you have fun?”

“yeah. brought you home some leftovers. they’re in the fridge,” he mumbles as he pulls off his sweatpants before sliding into the bed beside you. his hand finds your hip and he pulls you closer so that your chest is pressed against his, “missed you.”

“not as much as i missed you,” you smile lazily against his lips. it doesn’t take long for the air to shift and for things to heat up between the two of you. you run a finger down his chest and hook it in the waistband of his boxers and that’s when he pulls away.

“we can’t-”

“i know about the bet, the one that’s going on with the team,” you announce and his face falls. his cheeks turn red and your lips turn to a pout as you push yourself up to stare down at him, “and you’ve been avoiding me because of it. so when i say that i miss you, o, it’s not just you that i’m missing.”

“how do you-” he stutters as you pull his glasses off his face and set them on the makeshift nightstand to your right, “how do you know about the bet?”

“that’s not really important, is it?” you decide not to rat out brendan and the cut of the money you would be getting if you were to cause owen to lose out of the race. you make your move then, taking the opportunity to straddle his lap. his hands immediately go to your hips as you roll forward and you grin, “did you really think that i wouldn’t think that something was up, owen? you can’t keep your hands off of me. if you don’t want to fuck me, that’s fine, but be honest with me. don’t lie to me, just admit that it’s about a stupid bet.”

“i- please,” his eyes are wild and his face is flushed while all you’ve done is tease him. if you had already gotten him this close to breaking not even forty-eight hours into the month, you really don’t see how he believed he was going to make it the entire thirty days.

“please what, baby?” you frown, running a hand down his chest. “what was i supposed to do? what were you going to do? just watch me get myself off? you hate doing that…”

“i- i can’t,” he whimpers as you press your hips down on his hard cock. his eyes roll to the back of his head and he digs his nails into your hips, “y/n, baby, love, please, you don’t understand-”

“you don’t understand, owen,” you pout your lips and grab onto his wrist. he lets you slide his hand under your t-shirt and in between your legs. his adam’s apple bobs as his fingers met with your bare, soaked pussy and you lean down to press a warm kiss to his cheek. “c’mon baby, the rules are that you can’t cum. it doesn’t say anything about putting your dick in me. it would feel so good. i know you miss it.”

he takes a deep breath and you know that he’s weighing out his options. he could say no right now and you would get off of him and you would sort yourself out no problem, but you can tell by the way he’s reacting that he really doesn’t want to. you let out a shaky breath as he dips his fingers between your legs to gather some of your arousal before pulling his hand away. he holds his fingers to your mouth and you take them inside your mouth with no argument and he smirks, “just because i’m not getting off doesn’t mean that you’re going to be in charge, sweetheart.

“i’m gonna give you my dick because you’re right, i wasn’t thinking about you. you can’t ride it though- ah,” you open your mouth to protest, but he shoves his fingers further down your throat to gag you. you go quiet, running your tongue over the digits to clean them as you only get turned on even more, “as i was saying, i’ll let you sit on my dick, but that’s all you’re gonna do. just keep it warm baby and that’ll get you off. will that be good enough?”

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth so you can respond, which you do so with an annoyed tone, “it’ll have to be.”

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277 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Going to party with Ethan Edwards and all the hockey boys start hitting on you so he gets a bit jealous

warnings: language

“i think that you should wear this,” the sound of your boyfriend’s voice causes you to turn around. when you do, you watch as he bends down and pulls a sweatshirt out of your suitcase and when you realize which one he had chosen, you scoff and turn back around to finish fixing your hair. in the mirror that was positioned in the corner of his bedroom, you catch sight of him pouting, “baby, i’m being serious.”

“you want me to go to a party with your last name plastered across my back. are you gonna wear one of my sweatshirts?” you raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head, looking almost bewildered that you would even suggest such a thing. “then no. the 73 dangling from my neck will just have to suffice.”

“but-”

“that’s a part of one of my outfits for your games. i can either wear it then or i can wear it tonight, your pick. you can’t have your cake and eat it too, edwards,” you turn on your heel and grab your sneakers walking over to his bed. he still stands in the middle of the room, holding onto the sweatshirt with a pout on his lips and you pat his chest as you pass, “what’s it gonna be?”

he mumbles something under his breath as he neatly folds the sweatshirt back up and places it back in your suitcase. he looks at you, “i just want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“ethan, you are the only person that i know in ann arbor. i’m going to be with you all night,” you tie that laces on your shoes before standing up and holding out your hand for your boyfriend. he tangles his fingers with yours and you press a gentle kiss to his lips, “and i know for a fact that you’re gonna show me off to anyone that’ll listen.”

his cheeks flush and he shrugs his shoulders, “what can i say, i’m proud to be dating the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“well aren’t you just laying it on thick,” you hum and he grins, pressing his lips to yours again. “what do you want?”

“you and me,” he mumbles, hands squeezing your hips before traveling down into the pockets of your jeans, “in my bed…”

“when i said that i would come and visit you i was promised the full ann arbor experience,” you sigh as you pull away. you grab your bag from his desk and straighten up your clothes, “if you want to go to bed you be my guest, but i’m not going to be confined to your bedroom the entire time that i’m here, ethan. i’m sure one of your friends would be more than happy to show me around town tonight.”

the last thing that you see before you pull open the door to his room is an almost bewildered expression on his face. you make your way down the stairs where the other boys have already gathered. mackie raises an eyebrow, “where’s eddy?”

you open your mouth to answer, but the footsteps descending the stairs behind you beat you to it. your boyfriend looks between you and his teammates, “what?”

“did you find what you were looking for babe?” you ask, voice almost teasing as you adjust the collar of his flannel. you run your fingers through his hair as you look at him expectantly. a teasing smirk plays on your lips as you utter your next sentence, “did you check on the bed?”

“i, um- i,” he clears his throat and looks behind you, “i’ll look for it when we get back. it’s no big deal.”

“i hate to interrupt whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you,” noah speaks up and all of the attention in the room has now shifted from the two of you to him, “but nolan just texted. if we aren’t there in the next fifteen minutes we have laps next practice.”

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334 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[interact-if]

Day 6 of A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! Perceive Nines, me, yours truly!

Nines, author of Orthall Bay

A/PI Heritage Month Featured Author

[…]The name always stuck, regardless of how many foster families you fell under. It should be comforting that at least one aspect of you will always stay the same, but it’s a stark reminder of how isolated you are. A name with nothing to belong to, nothing to trace back to. Then again, you’ve managed to get this far just on your own.

In Orthall Bay, an in-development interactive fiction, you play as a young adult who grew up as an orphan. You have no knowledge about your parents, or any form of family. That is, until you get a phone call about a recently-passed man claiming to be your grandfather. Two things are certain when you arrive in the maritime town. One, Orthall Bay is seemingly idyllic. And two, there’s no such thing as perfect towns.

The question is, how deep does its roots go?

Author's Ko-fi

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

My current project is about you, an orphan, who moves to a fictional tourist town in California after being left as a beneficiary of your estranged late grandfather’s will. Orthall Bay is rich with supernatural myths and superstitious legends, and it has always thrived like that. Not long after your arrival, you start to notice that a lot of things about the seemingly arcadian town don't add up. At the center of it? You, and your equally estranged half-uncle.

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

Ooh, this is a bit tricky to answer! There’s so many things I’m looking forward to exploring with writing Orthall Bay, it’s hard to nitpick a few. Right now, I’m excited about building characters with depth that people would both be able to criticize and appreciate. It’s an easy choice to write characters you know your audience is coded to love and/or admire, but I want to explore the opportunities with character development depth that interactive fiction brings. Who knows, maybe I’m thinking of allowing my characters to go down the paths less taken.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

Ah, man, I just know my October 2020 self is burying their head under a pillow right now. The idea for Orthall Bay was actually a mosaic of lines from fics of various fandoms, but what really set off the lightbulb was a line from a Teen Wolf fic. It’s very telling of the direction I want to take this project, so I won’t write it down, but I am going to leave a tiny crumb. One word: widdershins.

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

Orthall Bay is set in California which houses a sizable Asian-Pacific Islander population, but that being said, it’s not heavily focused on. A lot of my characters are A/PI but I can’t definitively say that I’m rooting from my own identity. It’s a supernatural book, and I’m drawing from all sorts of mythological creatures and lores and making them into my own. So, in a way, I’m allowing Orthall Bay to be a project where I let it take an identity of its own. I’m pretty sure I’ll come up with future projects that are more SEA-centric though!

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing, with the IF community…

The jump from writing novels to writing interactive fiction was a bit of an adjustment. I haven’t been a very consistent writer, but most of my works were novels and its fixed worlds. Interactive fiction is different because you have to actively bind the story together in a way that makes your reader feel involved. And you have to be constantly aware of that. I still end up drafting a chapter, only to realize I forgot to lay out options that matter. It’s definitely a learning curve, but it’s worth it and very rewarding.

As for the IF community, I genuinely believe it’s one of the most welcoming and supportive communities I’ve had the pleasure of being a part of. Really, it’s heartwarming to see writers excited about their upcoming projects and being met with equal, if not more, enthusiasm from a potential audience. It’s not without flaws, sure, but the sheer amount of support you can garner is incredible. As a writer trying out a new medium, it’s one of the things that helped boost my confidence to continue working on my project.

Q6: Do you have any future projects in the works?

I do! GFTA is my baby, and I plan on nurturing it for a long time. Currently, I have about three ideas I’m considering to turn into actual projects, one of them being sci-fi and inspired by a game. As of now though, I’ll mostly be working on Orthall Bay. This is due to restrictions from my schedule, but it’s safe to say that I’ll be around for more than just a while. I’m absolutely dedicated to establishing my own platform within the IF community.

Q7: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

Hmm, I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask since I’ve only recently started writing interactive fiction, but I’d like to say this: you are your first and last audience. Always. Every project starts off as self-indulgence to some degree or extent, and that’s okay. Write what you want to write, not what everyone demands. Pleasing your audience is a grey area and you won’t be able to satisfy everyone. It’s important to take criticism into account, but please remember you don't owe anyone anything for writing media that they actively have a choice whether or not to consume.

[hockeyboysiguess]

driver’s license | b. boeser

a/n: so i was listening to driver’s license on repeat and this happened out of the blue in the last 2 hours. @brockadoodles, hope you like this surprise!

word count: 2,027

wine pairing recommendation: an old favorite, something you love and trust.

warnings: a couple swear words. 

You let out a long breath that lingered in the winter air inhabiting your car and cranked it slowly. The engine turned over a couple of times and you cursed a little under your breath. Your brother was supposed to have driven it while you were away, but he always said he forgot which was just his way of saying he hated your car. But she was Old Faithful for a reason and the engine turned on anyway. You breathed out a sigh of relief that turned into a groan as a familiar sound floated through your car of a voice you knew all too well saying your name softly. You slammed the button on the sound system to switch to the radio as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t need to hear that today. You weren’t sure you ever needed to hear that CD again. 

You didn’t even consider ejecting it from its permanent home in the otherwise unused CD slot. It lived there in your car that felt like a relic from a past life, a life in which the voice on that CD had a starring role in. That life wasn’t yours anymore, but we all keep tokens from the past, even from our lowest of years, because we can’t bear to part with things that once were our most prized possessions. 

You really should have paid attention to the radio station you had last played, but you didn’t and you paid the price for that decision. 

“Brock Boeser and the Vancouver Canucks were in town tonight and absolutely destroyed the Wild in a 3-0 shutout, with two goals from local Minnesotan Boeser. Remember his draft year? The Wild passed on him and I don’t think he’s ever forgotten it. He really feels like the one that got away for Minnesota, doesn’t he?” 

You switched radio stations, but the damage was already done and tears were clouding your vision. His name, just his name, was enough to do it sitting in this godforsaken car, the car he’d named, the car whose flat tires he’d changed at least five times, the car he’d jumped into the second after you’d gotten your license, the car you had driven aimlessly around his neighborhood once he left. But they had to say the one that got away, didn’t they? The radio show hosts had to be in cahoots with The Universe, who really wanted to pull the old scars over your heart apart with careless word choices and reminders of days that were so infinitely happier than the ones you were living now. 

Some dull pop song was flowing through your speakers now and you tried to focus on the entirely mediocre lyrics that matched the dull beat to center yourself in the mediocrity of it all. The opposite of your pain wasn’t happiness; it was the absolute middle between the two, the void where emotions didn’t inhabit. The problem was Brock Boeser hung over every inch of this car, every inch of this town, every inch of who you used to be. That emotionless void was entirely inaccessible to you in this moment. All you had was the ache in your chest with the terrible option to bury it under artificial joy. The pain you felt when you thought about him bled through your forced smile. It was too real, too raw still years later, the wound still somehow made fresh again by being back here to be covered. 

All you had was your pain, shitty pop music, and a passenger seat that somehow still belonged to Brock and it fucking sucked. 

You put the car in drive and turned right out of your driveway even though all your problems came with you anyway. The chill of the Minnesota winter was slowly dissipating as you drove mindlessly. Except no one ever really drove mindlessly. You made a series of lefts and rights without thinking, which meant your mind was really driving a path it knew so well you didn’t need to think about it as you did it. Minds, even when people thought they were being thoughtless, really weren’t all that random at all. You found yourself in Brock’s old neighborhood and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob that shook your aching chest. Of course your mind would bring you here when he was the only thing on it. 

The first time you drove through these suburban streets on your own was so long ago now, but you took the same path you were taking now. This was the first place you’d gone after getting your license, freshy and shiny and new, burning a hole in your wallet and the only place you’d wanted to go was to Brock’s. It hadn’t surprised your mother when you’d pulled up at your house fresh off your driver’s test and hadn’t even reached for the keys. She knew with one look where you wanted to go, and she waved you off as she got out. You’d had the biggest smile on your face as you drove these streets for the first time alone, heading straight for the person who had been the most excited for you to get your license. You had barely remembered to put the car in park before running to hug him and kiss him as words of pride spilled from his lips. He climbed into your passenger seat, where he practically lived that whole summer, where he told you he wanted to be with you forever, forever be in your passenger seat watching you achieve your dreams. 

Forever for Brock Boeser didn’t last past October of that year when he was in North Dakota and you were still here, driving the same goddamn streets you were driving now, driving through memories of your time together in your mind as you rolled through familiar intersections from your past. Years had gone by, and still a piece of Brock lived in a part of your heart like his voice lived on the mixtape still living in the CD slot of your car. You could go weeks, months even, without knowing he was there, especially when you weren’t in town, but something would always remind you of him. You’d see his face in a crowd, hear his name on the radio, drive past a road with the same name as one in his familiar neighborhood and you’d be reminded of him and the love for him that was embedded in your heart. That piece of him was so deep in your heart it couldn’t be surgically removed. There weren’t enough dates to go on, alcohol bottles to find the bottom of, enough love to try to create with other people, that would expel that piece of him you still carried in your heart. You hadn’t found anything that had even come close to him and the love you had for him. So your love for him stayed exactly where he’d left it in your heart and on a poorly burned CD in your car. 

Your friends had to hate you for him now, how you always compared everyone to him. They didn’t understand why you did and honestly, neither did you. You and Brock were young and reckless and stupid, but the love you shared was real and raw and clumsy and fucking beautiful. You knew what a sunset made of blood reds, vibrant oranges, sharp yellows and deep purples looked like; one that was just shades of yellow wouldn’t do. You couldn’t forget what loving him felt like, but as far as you could tell, he had forgotten what loving you was like. Maybe he just never felt about you like you’d felt out him, otherwise, how could he have moved on like he had? He had this whole life, this whole other world, in Vancouver you’d only heard about in poorly remembered stories from people with several degrees of separation between them and him. He sounded like he was doing fucking swell without you and all you could think was that forever apparently left you driving through his streets alone with only memories of him and red lights to keep you company. 

You hesitated before doing it because you knew what it would do, but you were already starting to cry again. All you wanted was to hear his voice again, hear the way it used to sound like when he talked about you sitting in this car, driving through these streets. You switched back to the CD and pressed play. 

“Hey baby, I hope this works? I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you got your license and I’m so proud of you. I can’t always be bugging you in your passenger seat, being the best DJ ever, so I figured I’d make you a little CD so you can have my amazing DJ talents with you wherever and whenever you go. I love you!”

The tears were flowing now. Hearing the way he told you he loved you, the way the words were somehow heard directly in your heart and made it twist in your chest, made you remember why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. The way Brock told you he loved you was better than how anyone else had ever tried. You walked down sidewalks holding other people’s hands and remembered the way his hand used to feel in yours when you walked down the same sidewalks in this neighborhood you were in now, past the same front yards you were passing now. The way he loved you clouded every moment you had ever tried to deny that he wasn’t your one great love. He was the person you had envisioned your future with, a future that included buying the blue house at the end of the street you were on now and pulling into that very driveway every night, sliding into bed with him, living with him, loving him forever. 

Instead of that ideal forever, you were turning onto his street alone in the waning sunlight with tear-stained cheeks, remembering how much simpler and better everything was with him. The street was practically empty but as you got close to the house you knew as well as your own, your breath hitched in your throat with worry that someone would be there. Of all the empty houses, someone being in the driveway at Brock’s would be your luck. You came over the hill and exhaled upon seeing the driveway empty, before checking your rearview mirror and letting your car slow to a crawl. You could practically see him there, all the times he’d run out that front door and into the passenger seat, off to the lake, to your favorite dinner, to the fourth best but still your favorite park around, to even just driving around these same neighborhood streets when he needed to breathe and forget the weight he carried in that house. 

You slowed to almost a stop in front of his house, letting your car roll forward as you tried to will the memories to sit more comfortably on your mind and in your chest to no avail. You didn’t notice someone appear in the driveway until it was too late, until they had already seen you. Blonde hair peaked out the back of a blue hat that sat backwards on his head. An old beat up North Dakota sweatshirt covered his broad chest, broader now that it had been when he had been yours, gray sweatpants, and sneakers he had thrown on to do some mundane task, probably to get the mail for his dad. There he was, standing in the driveway, looking at you and for a second, you thought he was thinking the same things you were, longing for them in the same way you were. 

He mouthed your name, disbelief written on his face, and started walking toward your car. You shifted it into park, because after all this time, all the pain, all the broken promises of forever, he was still Brock Boeser and you couldn’t leave him hanging when he called your name.

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[namesareunimportant]

Episodes related to each entity (up to and including episode 120)

This has been sitting in my drafts for ages and since I’m not planning on returning to the series, I might as well publish it.

The Stranger a. 1. Angler Fish (March 2010) b. 2. Do Not Open (1996-1998) c. 3. Across the Street (7 April 2006) d. 28. Skintight (January 2015) e. 34. Anatomy Class (January-March 2016) f. 39. Infestation (29 July 2016) g. 44. Tightrope (November 1952) h. 54. Still Life (early 2013?) i. 61. Hard Shoulder (24 July 2002) j. 77. The Kind Mother (August 1994) k. 78. Distant Cousin (late 90s, pre-2001) l. 79. Hide and Seek (16 February 2017) m. 83. Drawing A Blank (September-October 2013) n. 87. The Uncanny Valley (September 2014) o. 96. Return to Sender (1993-1996) p. 101. Another Twist (May/June 2017) q. 104. Sneak Preview (August 2013) r. suspected 114. Cracked Foundation (23 April 2009) s. 116. The Show Must Go On (October 1787) t. 118. The Masquerade (6 August 2017) u. 119. Stranger and Stranger (6 August 2017)

The Buried a. 2. Do Not Open (1996-1998) b. 15. Lost Johns’ Cave (14/15 June 2014) c. suspected 41. Too Deep (mid-August - September 2016) d. 50. Foundations (1836) e. 51. High Pressure (August 2006) f. 61. Hard Shoulder (24 July 2002) g. 66. Held in Customs (19 January 2000) h. 71. The Buried (6 January 2017) i. 88. Dig (pre-November 2003) j. 97. We All Ignore the Pit (June 2008) k. 99. Dust to Dust (April 1935)

The Web a. 3. Across the Street (7 April 2006) b. 8. Burned Out (November 2006) c. 16. Arachnophobia (early 2015) d. 19. Confession (November 2006) e. 56. Children of the Night (2009) f. 59. Recluse (early-to-mid 1960s) g. 69. Thought for the Day (pre-2010) h. 78. Distant Cousin (late 90s, pre-2001) i. 81. A Guest For Mr. Spider (1995) j. 100. I Guess You Had To Be There (2017?) k. 110. Creature Feature (2012) l. 114. Cracked Foundation (23 April 2009)

The Vast a. 4. Page Turner (10 November 2012) b. 21. Freefall (3, 5, 7 June 2002) c. 46. Literary Heights (1997-1998) d. 51. High Pressure (August 2006) e. 75. A Long Way Down (early October 2006) f. 91. The Coming Storm (at least from 1996-2017) g. 97. We All Ignore the Pit (June 2008) h. 106. A Matter of Perspective (September 2007)

The Spiral a. 4. Page Turner (10 November 2012) b. 8. Burned Out (November 2006) c. 19. Confession (November 2006) d. 20. Desecrated Host (November 2006) e. 26. A Distortion (1 April 2016) f. 27. A Sturdy Lock (July 2003) g. 38. Lost and Found (March 2012) h. 46. Literary Heights (1997-1998) i. 47. The New Door (around early-to-mid 2016) j. 65. Binary (late 2016 - early 2017?) k. 74. Fatigue (pre-June 2015) l. 78. Distant Cousin (late 90s, pre-2001) m. 79. Hide and Seek (16 February 2017) n. 85. Upon the Stair (between 1980 and 1990) o. 91. The Coming Storm (at least from 1996-2017) p. 100. I Guess You Had To Be There (2017?) q. 101. Another Twist (between October 2009 and 2011, May/June 2017) r. 115. Taking Stock (mid-to-late 2017)

The End a. 4. Page Turner (10 November 2012) b. 11. Dreamer (12 March 2015) c. 29. Cheating Death (17 June 1775) d. 43. Section 31 (August 2011,18 July 2014) e. 62. First Edition (1955) f. 64. Burial Rites (2012) g. 70. Book of the Dead (2003) h. 94. Dead Woman Walking (around 2000s-early 2010s) i. suspected 95. Absent Without Leave (after 1946, 1977?) j. 113. Breathing Room (around 2012)

The Flesh a. 5. Thrown Away (8 August 2008) b. 14. Piecemeal (early 2011) c. 17. The Boneturner’s Tale (1996) d. 18. The Man Upstairs (22 October 2007) e. 20. Desecrated Host (November 2006) f. 30. Killing Floor (12 July 2013) g. 49. The Butcher’s Window (June 2007) h. 58. Trail Rations (October - November 1845) i. 72. Takeaway (27 September 2009) j. 90. Body Builder (2013) k. 103. Cruelty Free (2014) l. 115. Taking Stock (autumn 1999)

The Corruption a. 6. Squirm (20 November 2014) b. 16. Arachnophobia (early 2015) c. 22. Colony (March 2016) d. 26. A Distortion (1 April 2016) e. 32. Hive (pre-2014) f. 36. Taken ill (August - September 2011) g. 39. Infestation (29 July 2016) h. 45. Blood Bag (spring 2010) i. 55. Pest Control (2011, 2014) j. 68. The Tale of a Field Hospital (1 June 2003) k. 84. Possessive (pre-1982, late 1970s?) l. 93. Containment (1995) m. suspected 95. Absent Without Leave (after 1946, 1977?) n. 102. Nesting Instinct (early 2014)

The Slaughter a. 7. The Piper (1917-1918) b. 28. Skintight (January 2015) c. 42. Grifter’s Bone (autumn 2013) d. 76. The Smell of Blood (late 2016?) e. 82. The Eyewintesses (pre-2007?, 18 February 2017) f. 95. Absent Without Leave (after 1946, 1977?) g. 105. Total War (1862) h. 116. The Show Must Go On (October 1787) i. 117. Testament (1919, between 2016-2017?)

The Desolation a. 8. Burned Out (November 2006) b. 12. First Aid (23 December 2011) c. 19. Confession (November 2006) d. 37. Burnt Offering (August 2009) e. 43. Section 31 (August 2011,18 July 2014) f. 55. Pest Control (2011, 2014) g. 59. Recluse (early-to-mid 1960s) h. 67. Burning Desire (October-November 2006) i. 87. The Uncanny Valley (September 2014) j. 89. Twice as Bright (1989-1991) k. 100. I Guess You Had To Be There (around 2015-2016?) l. 107. Third Degree (January 2010)

The Dark a. 9. A Father’s Love (1990-1995) b. 25. Growing Dark (January - 11 March 2015) c. suspected 41. Too Deep (mid-August - September 2016) d. 52. Exceptional Risk (1 November 2002) e. 63. The End of the Tunnel (26 March 2014) f. 73. Police Lights (10 February 2017) g. 86. Tucked In (1983) h. 98. Lights Out (1864) i. 100. I Guess You Had To Be There (2017?) j. 109. Nightfall (Jluy 2010)

The Hunt a. 9. A  Father’s Love (1990-1995) b. 10. Vampire Killer (1959-) c. 31. First Hunt (31 November - 1 December 2010) d. 36. Taken ill (August - September 2011) e. 56. Children of the Night (1982, 1996, 2009) f. 61. Hard Shoulder (24 July 2002) g. 107. Third Degree (mid-2017) h. 109. Nightfall (July 2010) i. 112. Thrill of the Chase (November 2011)

The Eye a. 12. First Aid (23 December 2011) b. 23. Schwartzwald (winter 1815) c. 53. Crusader (November 1941) d. 60. Observer Effect (April - July 1972) e. 62. First Edition (1955) f. 82 The Eyewintesses (pre-2007?, 18 February 2017) g. 92. Nothing Beside Remains (9 April 1824, 28 April 2017) h. 118. The Masquerade (6 August 2017) g. 120. Eye Contact (9 August 2017)

The Lonely a. 13. Alone (30/31 March 2015) b. 33. Boatswain’s Call (late November 2010) c. 48. Lost in the Crowd (around 2009 - early 2010) d. 57. Personal Space (September 2007) e. 92. Nothing Beside Remains (9 April 1824, 28 April 2017) f. 100. I Guess You Had To Be There (2017?) g. 108. Monologue (August 2009)

The Extinction a. 65. Binary (late 2016 - early 2017?) b. suspected 114. Cracked Foundation (23 April 2009)

All entities/general plot a. 35. Old Passages (pre-2002) b. 80. The Librarian (1994, 16 February 2017) c. 111. Family Business (September 2008, 30 June 2017) d. 117. Testament (2-4 August 2017)

[hisunshiine]

—𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥  |pjm|

⟢ pairing: Tattoo Artist!Jimin x First Time Tatoo!reader

⟢ genre: strangers2lovers | smut, fluff | oneshot | tattoo shop au

⟢ rating: 18+, nsfw

⟢ summary: You decided to get a tattoo when the $13 dollar deal is happening and find out it’s because your tattoo artist is celebrating his birthday, which falls on the 13th. His needle penetrates you, then he penetrates you. Happy Birthday indeed. 

⟢ warnings: minimal blood and pain (she’s getting a tattoo)

⟢ kinks: pain kink (from the tattoo) teasing, semi-public sex, thigh kissing, oral f.receiving, fingering, cum eating, unprotected sex, breast play, is there a term for fucking the cum into someone?

⟢ word count: 2.2k

⟢ author’s note: the way they looked at the MOTS ON:E concert really fucked me. Happy Birthday to our cutie sexy lovely Jimin.

“I’m excited and scared at the same time.” You said, bouncing nervously on your toes. Your best friend eyed the display in front of her.

“I think this one is really pretty… Maybe I should get a piercing. I really like this one, YN.” She points out a shiny gemstone embedded in surgical grade silver, and you nod.

“I am so torn. I want to get a tattoo really badly, and today is the 13th, so they’re doing 13 dollar tattoos. But I also want to pierce my cartilage.”

“You ladies need some help?” 

You looked up at the figure that had approached you from the other side of the counter. His smirk as he eyed you up and down left you feeling warm.

“Yes, ” your best friend began without looking up, “she’s looking to get a 13 dollar tattoo, and I’m debating on this piercing.”

Once she finally was done ogling the jewelry, she made eye contact with the man and almost gasped. He was taller than the both of you, roughly 5 foot 8, and lean. His grey/platinum blond hair was loose around his face, showcasing the cut of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. Dressed in black and silver, you couldn’t deny how hot he was. He quirked an eyebrow up, turning back to you.

“Do you know what tattoo you want?”

“I do,” you answered shyly. “I want a simple one, just the outline of a heart, but, um.. Do you have any… female tattoo artists?”

He smirked again, and you felt embarrassed for asking.

“Bangtan Tattoo Shop doesn’t have any female artists or piercers currently… but I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

Your best friend inhaled again watching the exchange between you and the worker, nearly choking on the sexual aura he was exuding.

“Oh, are you the tattoo artist?”

“The one and only Park Jimin, at your service. We have a couple artists, but they’re all already working on someone and I just finished, so once you fill out the online consents, I’ll take you back.” He passes you a tablet that’s open to a consent form.

“Um, what about piercings?” Your best friend had finally found her voice again.

“I’ll send Hobi over, he’s the best we’ve got.” 

Jimin hands another tablet to your best friends and disappears behind the curtain behind him.

“Please tell me that you saw what I saw.”

“That fine ass man? I definitely did.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let him touch you there...” Your best friend hit submit on her tablet and set it back down on the glass display case. 

“It’s not like it’s that risque… it’s small anyways so it’ll be done in no time.”

The sound of the curtain opening ends your conversation.

“Ready, little lady?”

You nod and he motions you around the counter and through the black curtain. As you walk past him, you see a man with several piercings and multiple tattoos on his arms walking towards you.

“She’s right out there, boss. Had her fill out the waiver and everything.”

“Thanks Chim. Happy Birthday again!”

The man, despite all of his jewelry and tattoos, had a cheerful disposition, and radiated a fun energy. He looked tough and menacing, but when he smiled, all of that melted away. You felt confident he would do a good job on your friend.

“Andddd.. Right through here.” Jimin pointed you towards a doorway and you headed inside, eyeing the bed and tattoo equipment laid out. As he followed you inside and shut the door, you turned to ask him where you should sit.

“Alright, before I have you climb up on the table, where do you want this small tattoo?”

“I want it right here.” You pointed at a spot below your hip, right at the apex of where your bikini line meets your leg. You thought it was the perfect place for a dainty tattoo that would only be seen by the men who would be lucky enough to get your panties off of you.

“Ah, I see why you asked for a female artist.. Well, I will have you know that I have tattooed many a half naked woman. No worries. I’ll treat you right.” He winked, and it went straight to your core.

“Let me see the design you want, so I can get that drafted up and ready to draw onto you.”

You showed him a beautiful image of detailed line work that created a flower. 

“This will look so good on you, send this to the email posted above the door.” Jimin pointed at a plaque on the wall above the closed door that listed the wifi information and an email to the shop.

“I’m just gonna have you strip from the waist down, and wrap this towel around you as best as you can to cover all the bits you're worried about, just make sure to leave the area you want done exposed. I’ll print out the design and I’m gonna grab the correct size gloves, they put the wrong ones in here again.”

Jimin left the room with a box of gloves in hand, and you quickly stripped down, winding the towel around your waist and climbing onto the table. Laying back, you tug at the towel, creating enough slack to cover your mound while still keeping the right side exposed for the tattoo. Getting comfortable, you logged into the wifi network and sent the image to the email address as requested. Waiting for Jimin to return felt like it took forever, but you knew that it was just your nerves talking. This would be your first tattoo.

“Ready, baby girl?” Jimin popped back into the room and you jumped, nerves getting the best of you. He adjusted the table so that you were slightly leaned back and your legs dangled at the knee.

“Let me wash my hands and glove up, then we can get started.”

You took the opportunity to eye Jimin as his back was turned to you. The way the black leather pants hugged his ass, showcasing his lean legs that were toned. 

“It’s, uh, it’s your birthday today?” You asked, voice cracking just slightly.

“Yup! The big 2-5. That’s actually why we do the 13 dollar tattoos in October. I offer this rate to celebrate so I can spend the day doing something that I love.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you. Alright, if you’re ready, I’m gonna use this wipe to remove any hair and then place this and you let me know if it’s where you want it or we can adjust.”

You could feel his gentle touch as he wiped the hair removal cloth along your skin before placing the trace of the flower there. Handing you a mirror, you eyeball the location and nod, letting him know that you approve of it.

You take deep breaths as you wait for him to start, trying to ease your nerves. Once the gun makes contact with your skin, you let out an indecent moan. You were expecting it to hurt, and while there definitely is some pain, there is also no mistaking the arousal that leaks from your core. The buzz of the gun is loud, but you’re sure that Jimin noticed the way you formed your mouth into an ‘O’ and closed your eyes. If you hadn’t been instructed to stay still, you might have arched into it, enjoying the way his other hand was braced along your hip, gripping you as he leaned over your lower half to follow the outline. 

Sitting on a rolling chair and positioned between your knees, Jimin was very aware of the way you were reacting to the tattoo. It excited him, finding someone who looked as good as you did who reacted the same way to being tattooed as he had his first time. He tried to ignore the slight hard-on he got from hearing you moan from him decorating your virgin skin.

About 15 minutes later, Jimin had finished the delicate lines of the flower, and wiped away the residual ink. You sat back with your eyes closed, breathing heavily as you calmed down from the rush of endorphins. Jimin looked up at you, admiring the way your lashes highlight your cheekbones.

“Well done, baby girl.”

His breath tickles your inner thigh as he inspects his work, and you look down at him, perfectly positioned to fulfill your wildest dreams.

“It actually didn’t hurt like I thought it would.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed yourself through it.”

“Oh, you noticed that did you?” you ask sheepishly, failing to close your thighs to soothe the ache forming. 

“I noticed quite a bit… This tattoo is gorgeous here by the way. The perfect surprise.” Jimin looks up at you, eye fucking you slowly. “I can see it now, the lucky bastard running his hands like this along your thighs,” Jimin had removed his gloves and placed his soft palms against your thighs. He slides them up, eyes daring you to stop him. You don’t.

“I can see him spreading your thighs apart, kissing up your leg...” He dips his head down and you shiver as his pouty lips make contact with your thigh, soft wet kisses dragging themselves higher and higher.

“Him removing all the clothing blocking you from sight...” Jimin grips the towel and you watch as it glides off of you, revealing your wet folds to him. “Baby girl, I’d really like something sweet for my birthday...”

You nod consenting to his statement, knowing he’s asking to taste you. He wastes no time, tongue tracing your folds as he sucks and licks you, tongue dancing across your clit as your hands bury themselves into his hair. His hands grip your hips, careful not to touch your tattoo. You can’t help the sounds you make, moans rolling from your lips as he pushes your legs farther open before guiding his fingers inside of you. His lips latch onto your clit, paying it special attention as he finger fucks you, but it’s not enough.

“Please, Jimin...”

He pulls away from you, chin glossy with your arousal, but continues to pump his fingers in you slowly.

“I want to feel you, all of you.”

You buck your hips suggestively, and he grins.

“Fuck, baby girl, I’d love to feel you grip me the way you’re gripping my fingers.”

With a lewd, slick sound, he pulls his fingers free, enjoying the way your wetness coats them. He spreads the two fingers that were inside of you and you can see the way the juices cling together, sticky between his digits. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

The sight along caused you to clench, a small mewl from your throat catching his attention.

“Such a dirty girl… That turned you on?”

Eyes hooded, you nod, biting your lip.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

His lips meet yours, and they’re as soft as they looked. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you tense when you feel the flared tip of his cock sliding against your leaking cunt. He teases your opening before he pushes past, stretching your walls to fit his girth. The angle of the chair allows you to feel him well, the tip of his cock teasing at your g-spot. 

His hands travel up your torso, pushing up your shirt until his hands are cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples through the lace bra you wore. He eases his face down until his tongue is lined up with your breast, the wet muscle laving the peak through the material. His hips move steadily, plunging him deeper and deeper with each thrust, and you can feel yourself building closer to climax. 

“Shit, Jimin, you feel so good...”

He giggles, and it’s a beautiful sound, melodic and soothing, and you feel him speed up. A free hand rubs at your swollen nub, infinity symbols drawn against your pink clit. His teeth graze your neck and when you feel him bite you, you let go.

Legs trembling, it’s earth shattering the way Jimin takes you through the crests. He can feel each wave of the multiple orgasms he produced, and he takes advantage of the pulsing walls to join you in this euphoric state. 

He wasn’t planning to fill you, so he pulled out and allowed his cum to pool on your mound. Due to the angle, it began to leak down across your clit and towards your opening, which he watched with desire. He really wasn’t planning to fill you, but he couldn’t resist fucking his seed back into you, allowing your satin core to milk the rest of him into you.

You had fully intended to only get ink on your skin today. Expected a little pain with every puncture. The pleasure of your tattoo artist's cock penetrating your pussy walls was just an added bonus, one you’re pretty sure the birthday boy enjoyed as well.

-

ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕁𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟, 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕖, 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕪, 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 3 October 1837

7 40

11 50

fine morning F59 ½° at 8 35 and went downstairs to a Mr. Greenwood from H-x who brought a plan for the water wheel – breakfast with A- (and Mr. Gray came at 9) at 8 50 in about ¾ hour – then looking to see what sum of Lords rent A- owns to Lady William Gordon (vid. 30 August) and calculating for her she leaving the money £4.16.11 for SW. this morning to pay Mr. Lister the auctioneer who collects these rents -  off in the yellow carriage to Thorpe at 10 – took A- to Nicholsons’ shop, and staid with her there from 10 ¼ to 10 50, and then set her down (to walk to Cliff Hill) at the far end of  the northbridge at 10 55 and drove off to the White Lion for a ticket for the King x bar – off from the White lion at 11 and met Mr. J. Priestley on the road (he going into Norland) at 11 ½ and took him back in the carriage to his own house and alighted there about 11 ¾ and came way at 1 35 – both the brothers J and Walker P- the former brought his plan of his estimate and the greater intelligence of the latter much aided our conversation – said I had come over to tell JP.  he could do me a service and himself too – Explained – he seemed to know very little about coal – JP. said he must take advice and consider about it – yes! certainly – a matter of consideration to all parties but I should be glad of a determination as soon as possible as I should set about goit or steam engine as soon as I could – I was not fast – there were 2 sides of the brook, either would suit me – but I had preferred applying to P- first – I thought the drain or goit would be a benefit to him and on the other were the Mcaulays with whom I knew Mr. Stocks would have influence – P- wished to consult a disinterested person – I said no coal-person would be so – I mentioned Kitchingman Childe – and Matthew Naylor as valuing tenants damages for me, I thought £6 per DW. – and Mr. Cooke of Elland called in to value coal damages for me, and Illingworth Miss Walkers’ coal tenant, Mr. Rawsons’ great man and very clever, but he certainly would not be disinterested – I said they would tell him (JP.) that the privilege was worth thousands to me – of that I left him to judge for himself merely observing that if he thought so, I should give the thing up – I did not even offer him more than damages, because I thought the benefit, to him and the expense to me sufficiently great – it could not be done for less than 10/. per running yard – might be – probably would be a 2 thousand pounds job – might be (but SW.’s survey would shew) from 2 to 3 thousand yards long – WP. measured the plan from which, direct across from about the low end of waste-wood to the head of Walterclough mill new goit, seemed = 1100 yards explain the benefit of the goit to JP. his upper bed 60 or 70 yards deep at Dumb mill bridge and 51 yards at Walkerclough mill (vid. near the bottom of last page) – my goit would begin at about 40 or 42 yards below the surface; and if ever his coal was wanted would save him 30 or 40 yards of pumping he wished I would loose his coal – I said it was not in my power to do what except perhaps about the upper 1/3 of it – never thought of working my own coal but gently explained how forced into it – the communication between R. and me underground pretty near – mentioned the assa-faetida for the 10 acres sold I had only a price between the 2 prices sold at by my uncle and it was odd that

SH:7/ML/E/20/0138

that such objection was made to my sending anyone into R-‘s pits – it was suspicious – I should have no objection to anyone going into my pits – if anything was wrong, I should be glad to be informed of it; if not, what need of mystery – the law of no use – must give a fortnights’ notice of a chancery injunction, and that time enough for stopping all up so that nothing could be found out – But now I was pretty much at ease – it was now discovered that R- could  not get the bit of coal I had wished to buy – for which R- bade 1 hundred and got me up to 5 hundred when I said he might have it – but they could not make a title to it – I believed also that he could not get Walker P-‘s coal – H- had offered a good price and was not likely to offer as much again    WP. knew of the throw that had been found but said H- had been at great expense and must have some coal to pay for it – I quietly said yes!  but he had a large quantity already and now that nobody could get WP.’s but H-, it made a great difference – if  I did not let my colliery and perhaps I should not H- was naturally my agent for it; and the colliery would in case be almost as good as his won, so that he would be in no want of coal – said I should be glad to see but the Messrs. P- at Shibden hall – nothing wanted but a table large enough; and they would learn from my plans in 2 minutes more than their own plans or mere talk could shew them in 2 hours – said I should be glad to avoid the smoke of an engine, but if obliged to have it, I should easily get over it – the chimney would be carried up into the hill and Mr. Harper thought the nuisance would be very small – I could a 14 horse English for £420 (vid. line 12 of yesterday) and the whole outlay engine house road and everything would not exceed £1000 nor would the daily expense exceed 10/. (including coal fireman and wear and tear) – at all rates the annual expense would not exceed £200; and then I should do my coal work and benefit nobody – Mr. JP. might think of this when they told him the privilege was worth thousands to me  and then judge for himself be it remembered I am not fast – if I was I must come into P-‘s terms yes! said P- ‘and you we all make what we can’ (How nicely characteristic!) he thought we should want some written document – yes! certainly said I – for my sake quite as much as yours – but that will be left to our attorneys – or I will shew you a rough draft of agreement for your perusal - I will shew you the old grant from Mrs. Firth to my grandfather – But we are both of us people who will come to the business without any wish to take any advantage one either side – oh! yes! to be sure, said JP- that their confidence in me may [?] with the length of the proposed goit je n’en sais rien – I doubt it – but SW. is to take the levels and I am to let JP. know the result and he will consider about and take advice and come over – In fear and trembling lest my goit and I should be too deep for him? I had told him his coal was not worth more than £10 an acre now – it could not got in one time – say 56 years how often would ten pounds double itself in that time? – Holt said I had coal enough of my own to last twenty colliers getting 150 years – Walker P- said my coal might not be so valuable for coal had been discovered in Soyland – a seam 9in. thick – in 1834 – some Lancashire colliers had come over but the property here was so divided nothing could be done – they thought it might be the Dule (Lancashire Dule or some such name) bed – WP. gave me a copy of the strata bored thro’ at Soyland mill (near Thorpe) in 1834 as follows  

                                    yards        ft.        in.

1 Shale                             6

2 Black ditto                    9

3 Gritty ditto                  16

4 Shale                             18

5 Iron stone                     1            .           6

6 Shale                             3            .           10

7 Iron stone                                   2          8

8 Shale                             20           1          6

9 Iron stone                                   1          6

10 Shale                            3

11 Iron stone                   1

12 Black shale                  4

13 Intermixed with          8

shale

14 Iron stone                    1        .           6

15 Left off in black            4       .           8

shale very soapy

                                         96      2         2

Had just written all the above of today in an hour at 4 ¼ - Miss Priestley with us the whole time – changed my dress before sitting down to my journal how will the matter end? shall I get the privilege or not? – then wrote as follows to ‘Mr. Samuel Washington, Crownest’ – ‘Shibden hall. Tuesday 3 October 1837 – Sir – I shall be obliged to you to let me know the earliest day you can take the levels of the brook, from the gapstead in the bit of wall between the Bunker hill and Parkfield in Lower Place land, going along Mr. John Priestley’s land down to the lowest extremity of my Southolm land – I am sir, etc. etc. etc. A. Lister’ – JP. particularly inquired what n° of vent pits I should require I said I could not exactly tell – something would depend upon himself air might be carried in pipes 200 or 300 yards and the drain would be so deep I should make as few vent pits as possible unless he gave me to leave to make as many as I liked and I found them cheaper than pipes – at any rate I should want the privilege of a place to bury the scale in – thought about 1 ½ yard cube per running yard would come out – but all should be buried so as to leave no nuisance – not a bit of scale to be seen – I should do it as I had done that in my own land – JP. had best come and see – But I thought I could manage very well with 6 vent pits in JP-‘s land supposing the length 1100 yards went downstairs at 4 ¾ - George gone for A- ¼ hour ago – out, about a little while then at 5 5 off to Mitham to send my note by little John – he went to Mr. George Robinson’s on Monday (yesterday) to work in the land and eat at home – walked forwards meaning to go to Crownest – met A- not far from on this side of Hipperholme lane ends – sent George back with the note and returned with A- and back at 6 – then out with Robert Mann seeing about road for the platform carts till 6 40 then ¼ hour with A- dressed – dinner at 7 10 – asleep – coffee –read the newspaper – came upstairs 5 minutes after A- at 10 pm at which hour F61° - fine till about noon – then a couple of hours rain or more afterwards tolerably fair – but damp warm disagreeable afternoon and evening – raining fast about 10 1/2 pm

[deceptive-jo]

Whumptober 2021 - Alt.13 Tragedy

Actor falls in love with the Author. Over and over again, until he can't anymore.

Words: 688

(Dunno if this is whumpy or just sad. I'd probably cry, wouldn’t my tiredness shut off any emotional capacity.)

---

"You do know I won't truly move on?" "You won't?", Marc lifted his head from the latest script draft at his friend's unprompted remark. "Nah, I reckon I'll come back somehow. Someone's gotta help ya control all the stupid inside of that head of yours!" Marc shoved Allen back, fire at the insult dimmed by affection.

-

The Actor watched his pristine reflection in the window of the cab. There was a new Ego in town, a lot more interesting and dangerous than the last ones that showed up. About time he introduced himself to the Author.

Actor slammed the door shut behind him, panting with tears burning in his eyes. Golden eyes still shone in his memory, deep voice coming out in rumbling laughter. "No need to worry, darling. Already got all the important stuff from Mr Demon Entity over there. But I can appreciate some manners."

-

Marc met Allen at one of his first big film projects, a scrawny boy rushing about and arguing the head writer into the ground. There was a spark lit in Marc’s heart that day that made him recognise Allen even years later when they met through chance at a gala, the young upstart a movie star of growing importance and an unrecognicable young man noone would have taken to be the gawky teen from just a few years prior. Marc introduced his fiance Celine and Allen introduced his brother Howard and it all seemed fine and casual.

It didn’t stay that way, of course.

They kept contact, like good friends did, and soon most movie credits listed the both of them together. Their talent and fantastic tales captivated audiences and filled front pages and as he grew more successfuö and Celine became more distant Allen seemed like the only great constant in his life.

Until, of course, Celine divorced him and it was just failure, death, disappointment, pain. Allen came to visit but soon his mere presence grew unbearable to Marc as the thought of him hurt haunted his dreams.

Allen made it easier for him, visiting less and less as his own life became crowded with tragedy. It's what made it so easy to push him away that fateful October night. And after that it was just death, death, death.

Wandering the earth with a stolen body and a broken soul Marc doubted that his despair could grow much more. Until he took notice of the untimely passing of Allen Wright, mere two years after his brother. And some small part buried deep inside of him- already cracked under years of wear- shattered. He would later come to realise that it must have been his heart.

-

There was an air surrounding the Author that spoke to the Actor's very core. Powerful, cocky and oh so imaginable. It showed in the way he stood and walked, how he talked and smiled and called him 'Marcus' whenever he needed to calm down. There was a reflection of Allen inside of him that made Actor ache and long for their next meeting. It wasn't betrayal to either of them. After all, Marc realised on a sunny summer day as he watched Author argue a director into the ground, they were just the same.

Author wasn't trying to hide it in the slightest, once you paid attention to it. But there was a security, that Marc would always recognise that spark, no matter how many times it died down. And Author had kept his promise.

Yet time seemed determined to change that. The next time he died Marc was with him, cradling his dead blood-soaked body to his chest, heaving with sobs. He came back not too soon after that but the gaps were getting longer. A short fading in 2018, then another disappearance in 2020, this time for two weeks. He vanished soon after with no trace left behind. The Host faded the next day and Actor knew deep down: he wasn't coming back this time.

Still he was ready to wait. After all, what else was there to do when the only light in your life had gone out?

[nightingiall]

things i love about you: you make lovin’ fun

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

Niall was, in a word, exhausted.

For some reason, despite the many cups of coffee he’d consumed, he still felt himself nodding away at his desk, unable to keep his eyes open. The words on his screen were so blurry that he kept rubbing at his eyelids, as though attempting to scrub the drowsiness away would help.

He felt like he’d been behind at everything lately. He was always writing an article down to the last minute, barely making a deadline before he was assigned a new story. Eventually, he’d had no choice but to take his job home, often working on a story well into midnight, only making it to bed after his girlfriend basically had to drag him there. Even then, he couldn’t sleep, mind constantly buzzing with words and synonyms and phrases he could use to replace something in an article. It was like he was buried under a pile of work all the time.

“Here,” someone was saying to him, and he pulled his hands away from his eyes—apparently, he’d been rubbing at them again—to find his co-worker Duncan sliding a cuppa onto his desk. “You look like you need this. And if you have more coffee I’m afraid your heart’ll give out.” After tossing some sugar packets and a wooden stirrer onto the desk, he smiled, flashing that famous gap-toothed grin that Niall had seen woo many ladies at various evenings spent in multiple Manhattan bars. “And how will I explain that to your girlfriend.”

Niall rolled his eyes, laughing along nonetheless as he ripped open a sugar packet and dumped it into the hot beverage. “Thanks, mate.” Working with Duncan, a fellow Irishman, was something Niall didn’t expect to enjoy as much as he did. Always laughing and joking, he could be counted on to lighten the mood. He was also whip smart and was basically like Niall’s human thesaurus, something Niall never forgot to thank him for. Besides, the rest of his friends loved him, which he took as a good sign for keeping him around.

Duncan settled into his chair at the neighboring cubicle. “Need help with anything?”

A scoff pushed through Niall’s lips as he mindlessly stirred at his cuppa. “A fuckin’ break would be nice.”

This made Duncan laugh. “Tell me about it.” They had been absolutely swamped for the past few weeks, and if the darkness beneath their eyes were any indication, work had clearly taken a toll on them. “Why don’t you take a vacation, mate? You didn’t go anywhere this summer.” Duncan stretched back into his chair, his spine giving a rather satisfying crack. “Take the missus out to a beach somewhere or something. Might do you some good.”

Niall smiled softly at this, reclining back in his chair as well. It was not lost on him that this topic had come up several times over the past few weeks. “Yeah, we were talking about going somewhere but never finalized any plans.” The tea slinked down his throat as he took a sip, filling him with warmth and a newfound focus. Perhaps they should just take off and go somewhere for a week. He needed some sun and some quality time with his Mona. Preferably soon too. He felt himself slowly starting to go crazy, just sitting there at his desk. “Any suggestions?”

Duncan hummed, pressing the tip of his eraser to the corner of his lip. “Anywhere in the Caribbean is always nice. My mam’s from Barbados and it’s always quiet down there around this time.” He took a sip of his own drink before lighting up with another idea. “Oh, Hawaii in the off-season is great too. No big crowds, good prices, fantastic food.”

Pristine beaches, warm saltwater air, and a room that overlooked it all sounded like a phenomenal idea to Niall. Most of all, he wouldn’t have to share his time with anyone else except for Mona. Not with work, not with clients, not with friends or colleagues, even though he very much enjoyed every one of them. For now, though, he just wanted uninterrupted relaxation time with the person he loved most.

He and Duncan talked about Hawaii for the rest of their shift. While sorting through emails and drafting up an article, he quizzed Duncan on the most ideal resorts and sights for a quiet and peaceful but still fun trip. By the time the day was over, he had a rough draft, which he sent over to his editor, and some semblance of a vacation idea he can talk to Mona about when he got home.  

It was all he thought about on his commute. New York may have been teeming with gorgeous fall colors, but somewhere warm sounded so nice. And he’d like to not have to worry about waking up early to take the subway or meeting deadlines at work. He needed a break from it all. They both did.

He was just twisting his key into the lock when he remembered that it was Thursday. Mona’s Mimi day, as she liked to say. Her therapy sessions often left her in unpredictable moods. Lately, she’d been having more rough sessions than good ones, and he often came home to find her curled up either on the couch or in bed—whichever she could drag herself to first—her head buried into a pillow and eyes clenched shut.

He usually tried to pick up some flowers or her favorite sweets from the Indian grocery store on her Mimi days, just to cheer her up, but he’d totally forgotten today. A frustrated huff worked out of him as the realization dawned, and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes at how terrible a boyfriend he’d been lately.

After all, the only reason they hadn’t actually gone on a trip yet was because he was too busy at work. Most days, he’d get home late, and even then he’d work until late into the night, unable to find it in himself to unwind and leave his job where it belonged, at the office. By the time he was ready to crawl into bed, it would be midnight and Mona would be fast asleep. He was honestly just lucky that she’d still indulge him with a cuddle, despite being deep into her dreamland.

To his surprise, and relief, when he swung the front door open, he was met with the soft twinkle of Mona’s laughter, his most favorite sound in the universe. She was perched on the couch, cross-legged with a bowl of pistachios on a pillow on her lap, the shells tossed into a smaller bowl beside her. Something on the telly was making her laugh so hard that she reached up to swipe a stray tear from her lashline with her sleeve. The mere sight of her, dressed in his jumper, her hair freshly washed and draping over her shoulders in soft, slightly damp waves, filled him with such a surge of affection that all he wanted was to curl right into her, on the couch, and not have to move for the rest of the night.

“What’re you laughing so hard about?” he asked as he kicked his shoes off and rounded the corner of the couch, stopping behind her to press his lips to the top of her head. She looked up at him, mid-giggle, and he pressed another kiss to her nose too because he couldn’t help it. He loved her like this, big, fluffy hair and flushed cheeks and a huge, wonderful smile that never failed to have his knees go impossibly weak.

“Worst Cooks.” She gestured to the TV, which Niall noticed was, of course, turned to the Food Network. “How have we never watched this show before? I never thought anyone except for Harlow could burn water but there’s a whole world of terrible cooks out there!” Sure enough, just as he looked up, a woman had somehow managed to flip her burger while simultaneously getting it to catch on fire. Mona cackled gleefully at the sight. He couldn’t help but laugh along with her, completely enamored.

After putting away his bag, hopping in the shower, and changing into clean clothes—he didn’t like staying in his dirty work clothes, especially after his subway commute—he felt much more relaxed and ready to curl into the warmth of his wonderful girl, who was still lounging about on the couch, laughing at the kitchen mishaps on the TV.

Taking the bowls of pistachios and shells from her lap and placing it on the coffee table, he stretched out on the couch beside her, head resting comfortably on the pillow on her lap. Her hair was fully dried now, and as she brushed the strands behind her ear, he caught a whiff of peppermint. It was only the beginning of October but she’d whipped out her favorite holiday shampoo anyway. It was his favorite too.

She smiled so sweetly down at him that he had to close his eyes, otherwise he was sure his heart might burst. “How do you feel about pizza for dinner?” she asked, trailing a finger down the bridge of his nose. She was so soft and so warm, her arms wrapped around him, consuming him with that peppermint scent, and Niall wanted her to just hold him like this forever.

“Whatever you want.” He breathed out a laugh when she let out a soft cheer, reaching for her phone to order. It was the second time this week that she’d asked but he didn’t care. She could ask for the stars and he’d find a way to give it to her.

When she was done, she tossed her phone to the other end of the couch, returning her attention to him. The TV was a quiet soundtrack to their evening but Niall felt like he couldn’t even hear it. He was too lost in the way she smiled at him, the way those big brown eyes glittered. It didn’t matter that he was dead tired and worn out; whenever he was all wrapped up in her, everything always fell into place.

Mona skimmed her knuckles over his cheeks, her fingers cool on his warm skin. “Everything okay?” she asked, voice a hushed whisper. When he opened his eyes, her smile was softer now, more subdued. He hummed in answer, nuzzling into the hand caressing his jawline. She simply sighed at him, fingers now gently trailing against the skin below his eyes. “You work too much. You look so tired.”

Her lips pressed kisses to his closed eyelids, the tip of his nose, the hinge of his jaw. Soft and feather light. It filled him with immeasurable joy. “’M fine,” he murmured, even though he knew she could see right through him. It was as though he could feel her eye roll when she scoffed, and he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. She pressed her cheek to his forehead when she was done with her little butterfly kisses and he sighed contentedly, so comfortable that he could just fall asleep right there. “How was your Mimi day?”

Her fingers were twirling into the hairs at the nape of his neck now. “Fine. We talked about love languages, which I hadn’t heard of before.” She started to shift away from him but he stopped her with a quick tug on her wrists. It was too comfortable; he didn’t want her to move. “I was trying to figure out what yours might be but I couldn’t. Do you know what it is?”

Niall smiled because he did know. He had always known. It was her, spending time with her, lounging around like this or going out on dates or cooking a meal or curling into one another in bed. Anything with her. Everything with her. They could be doing absolutely nothing, just sitting there listening to each other breathe, and it was just enough for him. Simply being by her side made him happy. Nothing else could compare. “I think if would satisfy you more if you figured it out yourself.”

Mona sighed, pursing her lips against his forehead. “I think you’re right.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. He relished in the warmth of her as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He could have fallen asleep like that, just lying in her lap, taking her in. Then he remembered. “Hey, Mo?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go to Hawaii.”

She sat up then, brows raised at him. “Hawaii?”

He grinned up at her. Just talking about it made him excited. Beaches and beers and tropical sights and Mona. It sounded like a damn great time to him. “We need a vacation. We keep talking about it but never actually go anywhere. What are we waiting for?”

She was grinning too, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Well, when do you want to go?”

He shrugged. “Soon, please.”

And so, the rest of the night was spent with pizza, some wine, and their laptops, sending in their vacation requests to their jobs as well as booking everything they needed, like flights and a hotel.

All Niall could think of was one thing: Hawaii, here we come.

~ “I told you to wear sunscreen.”

Niall huffed at this. He was currently slumped against the pillows of the biggest bed he’d ever seen in his life, watching as Mona got ready for their dinner plans tonight. She was fussing with her hair while simultaneously scolding him about his bad skincare habits. It wasn’t his fault, really. After all, he wasn’t used to applying sunscreen when it wasn’t the summer months, and how was he to know that their afternoon hike would cause a bad sunburn on his nose? “You’re being mean.”

It took a great deal of effort to hold back a laugh at the way she glared at him. “It’s not my fault you don’t listen.”

This time, a chuckle inadvertently escaped him. She wasn’t wrong after all. “Darlin’.” He crawled off the bed, hands finding her hips and smiling at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She was still trying to decide whether to leave her hair down or pin it up. “You look stunning as always and your hair looks fine. Now can we go get dinner? I’m starving.” This earned him one of her signature eye rolls and a flick to his sunburnt nose. “Ow!”

Mona simply grinned at him, turning around to pull him close and press a light peck to the stinging area. “You’re so annoying.”

“I can’t help it,” he breathed into her skin, all thoughts of dinner suddenly evaporating from his mind as he skimmed his hands down her spine. “You’re so cute.”

“Ugh,” she huffed out, but laughed nonetheless, lightly shoving him away. “Let’s go.”

Niall laced their fingers together as they walked over to the restaurant. He didn’t know why they had never done this before, splurged on an actual vacation, because this was quite possibly the best idea ever. Their flight into the Big Island had been long so they hadn’t done anything on the first night, but yesterday they had gotten a couple’s massage before lazing about in the hot tub, and today they rented a car to drive around before taking an impromptu hike to indulge in picturesque views of the island.

Now, with Mona’s hand in his, the night air warm and inviting around them, palm trees and flower bushes lining the walkway, he felt a bit like he’d fallen in love with her all over again. It was like he was twenty-one again, holed up in a winter cabin with his friends, completely entranced by this girl with dark hair and soulful eyes and a killer sense of humor. Except this time, she actually loved him back.

There was a moment today, when they had hiked up the mountain and were greeted with the mesmerizing views of the entire coastline, she had turned around and laughed, big brown eyes glittering in the sunlight, skin shining with the slight sweat she’d worked up on the climb, and he almost did it. He almost dropped to one knee right there, fingers already reaching for the ring in his pocket. Somehow, the words got a bit lost in his throat though, and it never happened. It was a perfect moment; she pulled him in and pressed the most reverent kiss to his lips, murmured that she loved him before smiling that sweet smile at him.

It was a perfect moment, yes, but something told him it wasn’t the right one.

“It’s so warm here,” Mona mused as they settled at their reserved table. They’d chosen a spot outdoors so they could eat with a view of the ocean. The sky was swirling with the colors of dusk, the sun already nestled beneath the horizon. Mona was smiling at him, pinks and oranges painting the sky behind her, waves crashing into the sand in the distance, and all he wanted was the ability to freeze this moment so he could hold onto it forever. “What if we just packed up and moved to an island? Left everything behind and lived the rest of our lives in…” It took her a moment to find the word she wanted, eyes glazed over as she mulled it over. Niall simply admired her, cheek resting in his hand as he leaned against the table. Her eyes absolutely lit up when it came to her. “Paradise,” she proclaimed dreamily.

Niall grinned, imagining them as island dwellers with their own little home in a tropical oasis. “What about all our friends?”

She shrugged, reaching for some chips on the platter between them. He hadn’t even realized when the waiter had placed it there. “We could write them letters.”

At this, he laughed, leaning back into his chair again. “You’d really just leave everyone behind?”

She tutted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, why not. I’d have you.” She was popping another chip into her mouth when her eyes were lighting up again. “Ooh, you know what we can do? We can get a puppy.”

“A puppy?”

“Yeah!” At this point, the chips were halfway finished. She seemed to notice this and offered him some, and he opened his mouth so she’d feed it to him. “We’re not having kids any time soon so in the meantime we can at least get a puppy.”

Niall was about to respond when the waiter arrived, asking if they were ready to order. Once they’d decided on what they wanted, the waiter left and Mona excused herself to the bathroom. As he watched her go, his fingers trailed absentmindedly against his pocket, tracing the outline of the ring inside.

He reached in for it, rolling it in his hands for a moment. For months, he’d been carrying it everywhere. At first, he figured he’d plan something nice; a date night, perhaps, and he’d surprise her with the ring. But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized he had no idea where to pop the question. The ideas were endless: at a picnic in Central Park, at the top of Empire State, at the botanical gardens, or maybe even in their damn living room. So he figured that if he just carried the ring with him everywhere, once the perfect moment arose, he’d be ready.

But every time he thought it was the right time, something happened. They were either being interrupted or there were too many tourists around or the words simply got trapped in his throat. It felt a bit like he was trying to tell her he loved her for the first time all over again.

The ring glinted in the candlelight. Mona’s mom, Raina, had given it to him last year when they visited her in San Francisco. She had waited until Mona had left the room before she pressed the box into his hands. “I was going to give this to Nick,” she had said, “but it feels more right giving it to you. It’s the same one their dad gave to me.” Niall had simply looked down at the box in utter shock. Raina closed his fingers around it and smiled. “Think of it as my blessing to you both. And I know Mona will really love having something of her dad’s.”

Niall thought of that moment every day. He sometimes just sat back with this ring, rolling it between his fingers, and wondered how Raina even considered him worthy enough for this. Perhaps it was why he was having a hard time figuring out the perfect moment. It was too important. This ring meant so much.

He was just sliding it back into his pocket when Mona returned. She smiled, asking how he wanted to spend the day tomorrow, but all Niall could think about now was whether Hawaii was the place to finally ask her to be his wife.

As their food arrived, she mentioned something about snorkeling or deep-sea diving. Niall wasn’t sure. He was too engrossed in how she glowed. The sun had splashed a bit more color onto her skin, and she shined as bright as the moon that was now visible in the darkened sky. She threw out another idea of swimming with dolphins and Niall told her they could do whatever she wanted. He’d follow her anywhere, no questions asked.

She settled on the dolphin idea, happily chattering away about making reservations in the morning and that they could even go to the luau on the beach on their last night. They’d have to do some shopping for their loved ones, of course, but they’d find time to do that somewhere in between.

When they were sufficiently stuffed with great food and even greater desserts, they took the long way back to their villa, hands interlaced as they strolled down the beach, the waves splashing up against their ankles. The ocean was surprisingly warm. With the salt and humidity swirling in the air, Mona’s hair had gone even bigger and fluffier than usual. She was laughing at something he’d said, head tossed back, strands of hair fluttering in the slight breeze, and his fingers instinctively found the outline of the ring in his pocket again.

Her eyes twinkled at him and he stopped himself. Not here, something in him said. It was dark and he had a sudden vision of accidentally dropping the ring into the water. The thought wedged a quick twist of anxiety in his chest and he inadvertently squeezed Mona’s hand.

“You okay?” she asked, brows quirked in amusement. She stopped walking to pull him into her, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. The stars seemingly reflected in her eyes as she smiled softly up at him. He briefly wondered if it was ever possible for this to get old, because they were nearing four years together and every time she looked at him like that he still melted inside. “You’re kinda quiet tonight.”

He dropped his shoes to drape his arms over her shoulders, holding her close. Sand in his toes, salt in his hair, and a whole lot of love in his heart. He was on cloud nine. “Just taking it all in, I suppose.”

She huffed out a laugh that gusted over his skin and he pressed his forehead to hers. They stayed like that for a few moments, taking each other in, swaying gently to the sound of the waves lightly lapping up against the shore. When she spoke again, her voice was a delicate murmur against his lips. “Thank you.”

Niall’s arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer, nose nuzzling against hers. “For what?”

He felt her smile against his skin. It sent a surge of warmth rushing down his spine. “You choose me every day. Even when you don’t have to. Even when you probably shouldn’t.” She held him so tightly it was as though she was attempting to keep him from floating away with the waves. “So, thank you.”

To any other person, this would have sounded nonsensical. But he immediately thought back to their conversation on the couch all those days ago, when she talked about Mimi telling her about love languages. He smiled. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

A breathy giggle fell from her lips. “Yeah.”

He pulled back to press his hands to her face, the curve of her jaw nestling perfectly into his palms. The tiniest bit of moisture had collected over her lashes and he swiped it away with his thumbs. “Of course I choose you.” Sometimes he held her like this and she looked at him like she couldn’t believe it, like this was all just a dream, and he had to gently remind her that he did indeed love her. More than anything in the world. “You’re the other half of me.”

This seemed to work for now. She smiled softly at him, pressing her lips to his in a tender kiss before grabbing their shoes in the sand and tugging him back to their villa. They’d barely gotten there and he could hardly keep his hands off her, trailing fingers against her sunkissed skin, lips finding her sweet spots, the pulse on her neck, the space between her collarbones.

She’d only just gotten the door closed behind them when his lips finally met hers, kissing her slowly, languidly. They had all night and the rest of the week for themselves. “’M gonna take my time with you tonight,” he murmured into her mouth. She hummed, breath hitching when his fingers gripped her thighs beneath her dress, hoisting her onto the bed.

“Yes, please,” she breathed, blindly undoing the buttons of his shirt as he peppered kisses over the soft skin of her shoulders, making quick work of the zipper at the back of her dress and pushing her straps away.

After all, he didn’t need to be told twice.

~

Mona missed a few strands when she’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun. Niall busied himself with brushing them away to make room for his lips, grinning to himself as her skin rippled with goosebumps at the feather light touch of his fingers, shoulders giving a slight shudder. She sighed quietly as he pressed slow, lazy rows of kisses from the nape of her neck to the edge of her shoulders, his arms wrapped loosely around her middle, holding her close.

She was reclining back against him as they relaxed in the lounger on their private lanai, both of them dressed in nothing but the soft sheets from the bed. The lanai overlooked the ocean and was a perfect spot to watch the sunrise, which Mona had dragged him out of bed for, insistent upon watching the sky transition from dark blue to swashes of reds and yellows. He didn’t mind, really. Not when he could snuggle her close like this.

She gasped softly, gripping his wrist as she jutted her chin towards the horizon. “It’s happening,” she breathed, eyes lighting up brighter than any sunrise. Still, he followed her gaze, the sun just barely peeking over the sea in an arc of deep orange. Mona shifted so she could rest her head on his chest, wrapping both her arms around him, and they silently enjoyed the sight of the sun slowly slinking up the sky, bathing them in a warm golden glow.

When it had gotten too bright to look at anymore, Niall shifted his gaze to his wonderful Mona darling only to find a serene expression on her face, lips quirked up into a soft smile. He ran his fingers down her spine just to feel that sharp intake of breath again. “You thinkin’ about moving to a remote island again?” he teased.

A giggle bubbled through her lips. “No.” She looked up, head resting on his shoulder, and he held her close. “I was thinking about that time we went to Vegas. After Deepa’s wedding. And,” she started to laugh, “Harlow schemed her way into getting us that honeymoon suite.”

Niall laughed at this too, remembering. It seemed like yesterday, even though it was a few years ago. “That was a fun weekend. Even if we weren’t really together yet.”

She hummed, fingers tracing abstract shapes into his side. “I already knew how I felt about you though.”

This surprised him. “Really?”

Her smile grew. “Mhmm.”

“Huh.” He quirked a brow, looking off into the horizon for a moment, processing this. He had always thought she didn’t see herself with him romantically back then. “So, when did you actually realize?”

She shrugged, a hand finding his, pressing them together. They both had long, nimble fingers, but her hands were smaller. Niall liked how they slotted together with ease. “The cabin. You kissed me under the mistletoe and then you dragged me up that stupid hill in the cold.” They shared a laugh. Mona’s eyes had glazed over in memory, voice soft and reverent. “You made hot chocolate with whiskey in it. It was a full moon and the stars were out and you said we don’t get that kind of view in the city. And you smiled. And it hit me that I’d been in love with you that whole time and I never even realized it until then.”

Niall laughed in a bit of disbelief, mostly because he remembered the moment well. She was laughing at something he said until a sort of struck expression came over her and she swore under her breath. If he had known then what it all meant then he’d have told her how he felt right there. It didn’t matter much now considering she was currently in his arms, but perhaps they could have been together sooner.

“When did you know?” she asked.

Niall smiled wryly at her. “The cabin.” She tutted and he realized she didn’t know what he meant. “The first time at the cabin.”

She stilled for a moment, seemingly turning his words over in her head. It was as though he could feel the gears working. Then, she sat up abruptly, looking at him in shock. “Shut up. There’s no way.”

He grinned, highly amused by this. He loved her the whole time and she never even knew. “It’s true, darlin’.”

This earned him a scoff and a frown. “Nuh uh. You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” he got out through a laugh.

A deep breath worked through her as she thought this over, deflating slightly. “I never knew,” she mused, clearly still in shock.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “you were always kind of oblivious.” Then he thought of the fact that he’d been carrying around a damn engagement ring for a whole year and she was none the wiser. “You still are, to be honest.”

She swatted a hand against his chest, a stunned sort of giggle escaping her. “Shut up.” Still, it wasn’t long until she was curling into him again, pressing her cheek to his shoulder with a sigh. “All that time…you never said anything.”

The breeze was beginning to pick up. It swirled around them, their little sanctuary of love, and flicked her stray hairs into her face. He brushed the strands back into the knot on her head, pressing a gentle touch of his lips to her nose. “Darlin’. You would have freaked out if I told you before you were ready.”

She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at this assessment of her. “I hate that you’re right.” Their laughter trickled into the air, echoing slightly around them. Mona shifted until she was straddling his lap, her arms draped over his shoulders as her lips turned up into that beautiful smile. Niall leaned back to catch the full view of it. “Doesn’t matter,” she murmured, tracing a finger over his eyebrows before delicately smoothing back his hair. “I think we turned out alright.”

He felt a surge in his chest then. This was it, a perfect moment. She was all wrapped up in him, soft and warm, messy hair and no makeup. Her cheeks were flushed slightly, from the sun and the fact that she couldn’t stop laughing. He was so enraptured by his love for her, laying back and taking her in. He could ask her right now.

But, for once, he didn’t have the ring on him. It was still in the pocket of his jeans, folded over the top of his suitcase, and to go get it he’d have to let go of her; he’d have to break the moment.

So he didn’t ask. Not now. Not yet. He wanted to hold onto her for the rest of the morning, wanted to savor that smile and the soft kisses she was currently pressing to every inch of skin she could find.

It didn’t matter. They had all the time in the world. And besides, she’d given him an idea. Another perfect moment. He’d just have to wait for it to come around.

For now, he pulled her face towards his and kissed her with his whole heart. She was here. She was his. The beach beyond was calling their names.

He was happy and nothing else mattered.  

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