#FINALLY after 2 attempts tumblr let me post photos

[johnbleepingzoidberg]

tumblr PLS let me post evil sycamore. PLEASE

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?��� Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

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[cheatingwifelover]

Cheating After Lunch Part 2

(fucking tumblr wouldn't let me post this as a single post, wtf.....I've posted much longer stories without a problem).

I got home from work to find she had come home with a couple new pairs of heels and she told me the creepy guy wasn't there. But here is what she didn't tell me until just a few years ago. She got to the store and the guy wasn't there alright. It was a woman behind the counter so she felt comfortable going in to shop. She tried on some shoes, then decided to try on some sexy clothes. The salesgirl would bring things to the dressing room to try on, so she didn't bother to cover up between items or close the door.

Then suddenly it wasn't the salesgirl, it was the creepy guy. holding a top for her to try on, finding her standing there topless.

“Wow, nice,” he said. “I will bring you some stuff you're going to love.”

He was wearing sweatpants and she couldn't help noticing that they were tenting from his big semi-hard cock. She closed the door but it didn't have a lock.

Soon he was bringing her tops and skirts. He would just open the door without asking so he caught her in various states of undress, but each time closing the door when he left.

Finally, she said sarcastically, “why even bother with the door since you don't knock or ask to come in anyway?

“Ok I won't bother,” he replied, and left it open.

He came back with a polaroid camera and told her how hot he thought she was and that her he'd give her a pair of shoes for free if she let him take a photo for his scrapbook.

She laughed it off but he continued to pester her and eventually she let him take a photo just so he'd stop bothering her. She let him snap a photo of her topless. Of course that only encouraged him and he came back for another photo. When she looked he had his cock out, erect, and big.

"I remember you from last time,” he said. “I'm glad you came back without your husband. I knew you would. I've been waiting for you. This is what you do to me."

He asked her to do a couple lines of coke with him. She had never tried even marijuana, and she was curious so she asked if that would shut him up?

"I've never done it before, I've only seen it in the movies, what do I do?” she said.

He showed her and she tried it and found she liked how it made her feel. She kept trying things on getting increasingly lax about her state of dress until just like she had with the salesgirl, she ceased any further attempts at modesty.

She loved how she was feeling and asked him if she could try it again, which of course he agreed to, and did a couple more lines. It seemed like the next thing she knew he had her on her knees with his cock in her mouth, snapping photos.

"Oh fuck you're good at this," he told her, which she found oddly flattering.

“I bet your husband doesn't have a cock like this for you. I hope this won't be the last time I see you."

He sat down on the chair in the dressing room and pulled her to him, started making out with her, and sucking her tits.

“I'm gonna fuck you,” he told her. “Lift up.”

She straddled his hips and guided his cock into her married pussy.

He told her she had a hot tight cunt, which again she found flattering. She made out with him as she rode his cock. She came hard three times before he finally exploded into her. On the way home she started to worry about not having used a rubber and fearing what might happen if he'd given her something, but of course, it was too late for regret.

[murumokirby360]

My NVMe Needs - Part 4: Another Trial & Error (w/ my paper dolls) [Recorded on Apr 21st, 2023]

So, here’s Part 4 of “My NVMe Needs“ (featuring my paper dolls). 😁 Actually, this is Part 2 of 2 videos that I've recorded, yesterday (April 21st, 2023).

For this continuation, I'm attempting another try & hopefully will succeed in the migration. Plus, I'll reveal the benchmarks using helpful software (which, I won't mention the name until the end). No, not the "Samsung Magician"; not yet though, I'll save it, but rather something else. You'll see. 😉

If you haven't seen my previous part & other ones (that related), then I'll provide some links down below: ↓

• Part 1: Samsung SSD 970 EVO Plus NVMe M.2 SSD (1TB) Review [Apr 7th, 2023]

• Part 2: Thermalright M.2 2280 Pro Review [Apr 11th, 2023]

*• Part 3: Installation and trial & error [Recorded on Apr 21st, 2023] (published: Apr 22nd, 2023)*

So, without further ado, let's continue we left of:

✋ HOLD IT! (AGAIN!)✋

• Okay so before I discuss my experience, let's discuss my recording process. I have 17 recorded videos 🎦📲on my smartphone (the Honor 8C), one of which is from the VLC media player 🎦🖥️. However, squeezing 17 videos in one package wouldn't fit in my (Tumblr) post 😕, so I decided to slice it in half to make a minimum of 500 MB per video post 🪓, not to mention, the adjustments, speeding up the process, and adding subtitles. 🎦✏️🖥️ And thus, I made two videos. It took 7 hours to finish these videos between 7 PM to 2 AM (Apr 21st to 22nd). And man, I'm all relieved after editing. So much so, I want a take a break after this, but I can't because I want to end my ambitious topic sooner before celebrating my birthday, next month (May 6th). Regardless, at least I'm all done with editing, and all was left is to type in with my thoughts. And uhh, if you see me shirtless, then my apologies for that, I completely forgot to wear a shirt before recording. lol 😅 Plus, it's damn heat season in my country (The Philippines), so it's hard enough to sweat my glands while progressing (, both daylight & night), you know. 🥵☀️ Anyways, let's get over with...

My Recorded & Edited Video (using Filmora 9): (pls watch) ↑ 🎦✏️🖥️

• So, in second attempt, you noticed the total memory size was decreased by 789 bytes than before. Here, I have some photos, right here. ↓ [pls see my 12th & 13th image(s)]

• Sadly, the third attempt was another failure despite the 250+ GB won't handle the migration. And uh, did I mention the writing rate is slow from the physical drive? Yeah, I could see that. However, there's a solution to that. So, let's proceed to these images. ↓ [pls see 14th & 15th image(s)]

• Alright, third attempt time! And you noticed I reduced the memory size to 150+ GB because I uninstalled larger files/apps. But wait, what are the larger files/apps that I've uninstalled? Well, 2 PC games. One is what I actively played [CLICK ME! #1], while the other is not [CLICK ME! #2] because I suck at playing it. But, is still a great game though (you should check it out at #2). Nonetheless, after it reach 99%, it was a success! And I immediately click the button to shut down the PC! *sigh* Yes! Rejoice!

16th & 17th Image(s): ↑

• Next, I turn on the PC once more & press F12 to access the boot menu. There, I swap my old physical drive to my NVMe M.2 drive as my new main boot before I save & click the new main boot from the "Boot Override" list. Then it restarts my PC, but there's a problem... It did not work well! I'm not sure what happened, so I have another round of manual troubleshooting (Round 2). After a couple of minutes, I fire up my PC & it finally worked! It boost very quickly than before until another problem came out to smash my monitor's face, it blacked out! (no pun intended) Round 3 for manual troubleshooting! I'm starting to get frustrated, but I won't give up on my PC. With blood, sweat & tears in my body, my PC has finally worked! And it was worth the hard for me!

18th & 19th Image(s): ↑

• Now, I was gonna install a leftover cooling fan from a brand called "DeepCool", but I'm having trouble my PC, a couple of times. Installing a cooling fan (whether 4 fans or more) is an essential requirement to keep our internal board (CPU, Graphics Card, NVMe) from overheating for a long period. And it sucks without it. *sigh* But don't worry, I'll be targeting & browsing a new spanking PC tower case, very soon. As well as a brand new power supply, too. My paper dolls approves my idea.

My Benchmarks: ↑

• Let's proceed with another test (that I've promised). This is the so-called "helpful software" that I was talking about. I would like to introduce the "CrystalDiskMark", a read/write memory testing software. Some of you may familiar with it, but others not so much. Nonetheless, these are the four benchmarks that I've tested, including my recent Samsung 970 EVO Plus NVMe, which has the most readable & writable rated speeds of the four memory-based drives, with the bottom right being the least, and that's the Seagate Barracuda 7200 HD. That's the reason why I struggle with playing games or waiting to boot using an old & slow physical drive. Not only that but the multiple windows & tasks that sometimes can't handle. I could relate to that situation though. But thanks to the supreme performance of the NVMe M.2 drives, it can handle pretty much anything, including PC games that are larger files (particularly AAA game titles). However, running large-size PC games means overheating the NVMe's processing unit & other chips, making it stressful on your gaming PC, and that brings it with the introduction of the heat sink for NVMe, which can dissipate the heat & prevent overheating the NVMe's processor & chips. Sure, it may not need it for your NVMe sticks, but we need to keep our memory-based drives & our PC itself top-shaped without any signs of error, not to mention longer period. And that make sense, you know.

Side Note: It said, that the Samsung 970 EVO Plus delivers a sequential read & writes of 3,500 MB/s & 3,300 MB/s respectively. And according to my benchmark test, I would say a solid promise. Even though, the write rate was almost 3,300 MB/s-ish but still a solid promise to me.

Overall:

• I have to say, it was satisfying & a bit frustrating, at the same time. I've shared a lot of mistakes & plenty of undo processes, with a ton of sweaty & face-rubbing from my body because of the dry season, but that doesn't stop me until I'm done. But in the end, I accomplished the installation of the SSD NVMe M.2 drive with my first owned NVMe stick from Samsung (970 EVO Plus) & the heat sink by Thermalright. Hopefully, these two we're safe & sound, forever without second thoughts about removing them. But, should I buy another NVMe with additional items to operate? Maybe. If I buy another NVMe M.2 drive, then I could use it for my file storage instead of the mechanical counterpart. But Nah, I guess one NVMe stick is good enough for me (I suppose). One thing I'm concerned about is not touching any internal components when I try to install a cooling fan or a heat sink with another NVMe stick on it because if I do with a slight touch my PC won't run at all, and that scares me... *sigh* But in the end, it was a worth it & satisfied my computer upgrade. My ambitious computer upgrade was a success!

I have more tests to come until the end, so I'll be planning to make another part for the finale (before my birthday countdown starts), so stay tuned.

Well, that's all for now.

Tagged: @lordromulus90, @bryan360, @carmenramcat, @leapant, @paektu, @rafacaz4lisam2k4, @alexander1301

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE!⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

My 8bitdo Pro 2 Review - Part 10 (Recorded Video) [Nov 9, 2022]

Hello! Here’s Part 10 of my new 8bitdo gamepad, the Pro 2 Bluetooth Gamepad/Controller! 🎮😁

It's been a while now since May of this year, and my Pro 2 controller surpassed my old SN30 Pro+'s lifespan. Man, I really missed my old one, but then again they're very identical, in terms of design albeit my Pro 2 has bells & whistles.

So, for this part, I'm attempting to re-download the firmware updater from 8bitdo because they released a new update version for my recent Pro 2 controller. ⬆️⚙️➡️🎮 Yeah, I lost my firmware updater, so I have no problem getting it another. And damn, I didn't get a chance to show ya my macro test while playing retro games, so maybe I'll attempt it next year (2023).

BTW, if you haven't seen my posts from May 2022, then I'll provide some links down below:↓

• Part 9 [May 26, 2022]

• Part 9.5 [May 26, 2022]

So without further ado, let’s get started:

BTW: Watch my record video first.🎦🖥️

• Alright so, here I am going to this website where I download the aforementioned software. When I checked the Pro 2's update log, I noticed that there's only one firmware version 2.00. That's odd, usually that there is only 3 firmware I've seen (evidence? → [CLICK ME!]), and as of March of 2022, I've updated the v1.07 firmware for my (Pro 2) controller. Anyways, I've already downloaded the firmware update & open it. Now, this part is quite confusing, as my current firmware update was v1.08 instead of 1.07. When did I get the v1.08 when my current firmware update was 1.07? 🤔 8bitdo probably made some little bit adjustment, I suppose? 🤨 Anyways, I decided to update their recent update, which is v2.00. Feel free to read the listing patches. And once it's done, my Pro 2 will automatically disconnect & reconnect after the completion of the firmware update. I could double-check the current firmware, and I noticed that there's literally one version, it used to have 3 firmware updates. So yeah, that's pretty strange to me.😕

• Nonetheless, let's go straight through our trusted gamepad-tester website. I reconnected my Pro 2 via my included USB type C cable to work properly. 🖥️🎮 All the buttons are functional, including my current mapped-out back buttons, and finally the analog sticks. The latter is no longer random numbers when they're centered. Even when I try to move slightly with my two thumbs, the analog joysticks are patched from the firmware version 2.00. Then again, the deadzones for the joysticks are literally the same accuracy as before. And when I tested GTA V online, nothing much to say.

(Little) Overall:

• `I'm quite happy with their firmware update 2.00 for my Pro 2 gamepad, but at the same time it riddled me where are the other firmware versions at? 🤔 It'll be better if they have different firmware versions to choose from, much like my old SN30 Pro+ gamepad. 🎮 Here's hoping, that the company itself will get to fix.

BTW:

#1 - Did you know the Pro 2 had released two new colors albeit transparency? They're totally rad, and you should check them out right here → [CLICK ME!].

#2 - Also, new controllers are also available such as the Lite 2, the Lite SE, and two configurations of the Ultimate Controller. The Bluetooth & the 2.4 GHz variant (aka Windows version). To check out the entire products by 8Bitdo, then please [CLICK ME!].

Well, that’s all for now. If you haven’t seen my previous parts of the same item, as well as my previous 8bitdo review items, then I’ll provide some links down below.↓😉

My 8bitdo USB Wireless Adapter ‘PS Classic Edition’:

• Opening parcel [Aug 27, 2020]

• Part 1 [Aug 28, 2020]

• Part 2 [Aug 28, 2020]

• Part 3 (Recorded video) [Aug 28, 2020]

• Part 4 (Recorded Video) [Aug 28, 2020]

• Part 5 (Recorded Video) [Aug 28, 2020]

• Part 6 (Recorded Video) [Oct 20, 2020]

• Part 7 (Recorded Video) [Oct 28, 2020]

• Part 8 (Recorded Video) [Nov 14, 2020]

• Part 9 (Recorded Video) [Nov 14, 2020]

• Part 10 [Final] (Recorded Video) [Nov 16, 2020]

• Extra Part / Final Plus [Nov 25, 2020]

My 8bitdo SN30 Pro+ gamepad:

• Unopened parcel [Nov 3, 2020]

• Opening parcel (Recorded Video) [Nov 3, 2020]

• Part 1 [Nov 19, 2020]

• Part 1.5 [Nov 19, 2020]

• Part 2 [Nov 27, 2020]

• Part 2.5 [Nov 27, 2020]

• Part 3 [Dec 1, 2020]

• Part 4 [Dec 3, 2020]

• Part 5 [Dec 8,2020]

• Part 6 [Dec 11,2020]

• Part 7 [Dec 20, 2020]

• Part 8 [Jan 19, 2021]

• Part 9 [Mar 27, 2021]

• Part 10 [Mar 27, 2021]

• Part 10.5 [Mar 27, 2021]

• Part 11 (w/ 8bitdo’s Ultimate Software ver. 2.0) [May 11, 2021]

• Part 12 [Jun 3, 2021]

• Part 12.5 [Jun 3, 2021]

• Part 13 [Jul 31, 2021]

• Part 14 [Aug 17, 2021]

• Part 15 (Macros mapping - 1st attempt) [Oct 9, 2021]

• Part 16 (Macros mapping - 2nd attempt) [Oct 9, 2021]

• Part 17 (Serious problem after testing) [Oct 10, 2021]

• Part 18 (Equipped w/ Panasonic Eneloop AA Batteries) [Oct 18, 2021]

• Part 19 (Final) [Nov 9, 2021]

My 8bitdo SN30 Pro 2 gamepad:

• Unopening parcel [Oct 28, 2021]

• Opening parcel (Recorded Video) [Oct 29, 2021]

• Part 1 [Dec 2, 2021]

• Part 2 (Recorded Video) [Dec 4, 2021]

• Part 3 [Feb 21, 2022]

• Part 4 [Feb 26, 2022]

• Part 5 [Mar 4, 2022]

• Part 6 [Mar 6, 2022]

• Part 7 [Mar 22, 2022]

• Part 8 [Mar 22, 2022]

• Part 9 [May 26, 2022]

• Part 9.5 [May 26, 2022]

Tagged: @bryan360, @carmenramcat, @leapant

[phantomrose96]

We all joke about how Un-Monetizable of a platform Tumblr is. But it's my opinion that Tumblr is actually only the second least-monetizable social media site.

Obviously Instagram and Youtube are king. Influencers exist to shill shitty brands and Youtubers give their 30 second dead-eyed endorsements of the same five services. Facebook's "snapshot into people's life" format is built for women you haven't seen since highschool plugging their latest pyramid scheme. I don't Tiktok but I'll bet it's the bastard child of Instagram and Youtube with Tikfluencers lipsyncing over a fucking Naturebox logo or some shit. Reddit is trickier but you could at least pull off some crypto-shilling if a brand pays you to walk into subreddits and recommend their stuff on "what brand of <X> should I buy?" posts.

It is my opinion that Tumblr actually comes next on the list of influencer potential.

Followed by dead-last Twitter.

Twitter, I think, is the perfect storm of un-fucking-monetizable content. Where Tumblr fails is that the userbase is cynical and jaded and thus un-sellable-to, but let's face it we've gotten soft in the "I'm over 20 and my back hurts" kind of way. Twitter matches pound-for-pound in cynicism, with the bonus of being filled with the most unhinged feral ready-to-rip-each-other-apart-by-the-teeth base. You gonna fucking cozy up to one of them and sell them something? Right when they're in the middle of quote-retweeting death threats to someone with identical political views over a one-word disagreement? Buddy?? You gonna sell fucking tea oil to them?? Buddy??

Format? Horrific. How are you gonna wow your base on Hello Fresh with a 25 word Tweet? Or are you gonna hook some new subscribers with a (thread 1/8) trying to fit in a whole plug for Raycon? Ditch text all together, try photos. Post a nice picture of you holding up a brand package. Have fun getting decapitated by the crop. Really gonna sell your followers on the glamour there while they're staring into your weird torso, idiot. Twitter hates pictures as much as it hates words. Twitter, as a platform, hates content. Video?? I'll fucking laugh. Who's going to waste the time hitting play on your corporate shill video when there's an infinite count of 25-word takes to be pissed about RIGHT BELOW YOU?

Tumblr, as a format, actually could be Influencer friendly. Pictures appear. Text has color. Video. Tumblr has a 6/10 advertisable format with a 2/10 advertisable-to userbase. Twitter pulls in a cool 1/10 in both due to every single element of its format and base being hostile to all life.

My final explanation why I'm right is that Twitter is so massively popular already that if this were possible, it would have happened already. Someone out there must've at least attempted to plant seeds in the radioactive soil, and it didn't work, because I can name 100 Twitter wackjobs and 0 Twitter influencers. And it can't work because any attempt would be some fucking Kylie Jenner handing out Pepsi in the Riot Zone bullshit. Dead in the water. Failure to launch. No one can successfully uwu over their new butt-shaping leggings while sandwiched between declarations of international war and discourse over furry porn, are you fucking kidding me? It's a warzone and influencers will be eaten first.

Twitter is a radioactive wasteland. Brands have no one to go after. Every hand bites. If you're blue-verified it probably means you have at least 4 brand-unfriendly controversies. Follower count means nothing because half those people are there because they absolutely hate your guts. Influencers would slide through Twitter with all the grace and ease of a cow through a meat grinder. I fear for any dumb checkmarked fool who does not realize this.

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for August 2021! Below you’ll find 23 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​.

Happy reading!

He Carries The Key by @lululawrence

[Niall/Louis, OT5, 8k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

Niall was mostly home, ready for a shower and a chat with Louis, when suddenly Niall was flooded with emotions from the pack bond.Shock. Surprise. Confusion.But mostly fear.Something was wrong with Louis.

Plus One by mynameispiaivy / @missrefridgefreetorator

[Louis/Luke Malak, 3k, Mature, tumblr post]

Louis is invited to an event and he has to bring a "plus one".

Better Mistakes by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

[Harry/Louis, 117k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world-”

“Oh but it fucking is,” Louis said, shaking his head. “How the fuck am I going to tell Matt I’m pregnant with a baby when we’ve not had sex in months? He might be a bit thick sometimes, but he is gonna know there’s no chance this baby is his.”

“You don’t have to, uh, tell him it’s mine, right?”

Louis scoffed. “Why, are you scared he’s gonna come and kick the shit out of you?”

“He wishes,” Harry laughed, looking back down at the test. “Shit, I … I can’t believe this. Louis, I didn’t mean for this. Honestly. It was just sex for me. We have great sex, and I didn’t see why I should have to turn that down, not when you clearly wanted it as much as I did. I didn’t want this to end in a baby.”

Louis knows he shouldn’t be sleeping with his boyfriend’s enemy. He knows that. But there’s something that draws him back to Harry over and over again. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan...

Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy by @lululawrence

[Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw, 7k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

Hello, I’m sorry if this isn’t a post that is allowed on this channel, but I was hoping for the best since it is regarding a photography project I’m working on at the moment. I’m working on a set of sunrise kiss photos and therefore am needing a willing kissing partner. I’d hoped to be able to provide one for myself, but it hasn’t panned out, so here I am! I was hoping to find someone here, since I know most of you (at least peripherally) and can generally vouch for you not being creeps. Plus this way I know you will understand needing to continue to tweak the camera settings and reshoots etc that others might not.

Anyway, I’m looking for someone who identifies as male or male-ish (sorry, ladies) who is between the ages of 18 and 40. I’m a 29 year old male-ish myself, for those who would like to know before replying.

If you’re interested and are free the early morning of August 7th and would like to kiss in the sunrise with me for the sake of some (hopefully) interesting and fun photos, let me know via DM and I’ll give you the location.

OR the one where Louis needs a kissing partner, two show up, and it all might turn out for the best that way.

call my name and save me from the dark by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

“I don’t know if it was a nightmare,” he confesses to the ceiling, the darkness making it easier to speak up even when he still has to close his eyes to stop himself from tearing up. “It feels more like a memory. But it can’t be.”

Harry shifts, and Louis can feel his chin perched on his chest, doesn’t need to look at him to know that Harry’s studying him. “Why?” He prompts, when Louis doesn’t immediately continue, and Louis swallows, tries to shrug off the apprehension, the fear that Harry will think that he’s gone mad.

“Because I heard them pronounce me dead.”

Feels like home by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis comes home from work with an exciting surprise. Daydreaming and celebrations ensue.

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Louis, 4k, Mature, tumblr post]

The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.

“Your jam?”

When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.

I Know My Arithmedick (2 + 2 = 4sum) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Harry/Louis + Louis/multiple partners, 3k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry wants to watch Louis fuck someone else. Louis loves giving Harry what he wants. It’s simple math, really.

doG…and his friend by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright

[Louis/Harry, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

When Joan has to move out of her small, nice home and in with a random roommate, she obviously brings her dog/boyfriend, Doug, with her.

Doug makes a friend. And maybe more.

I Heard You Talking by @lululawrence

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

It had been an hour of their noise that Louis had been dealing with, and for some reason the fact that these grown men were being this rowdy in the quiet carriage over a game of Uno was the breaking point for him. He stood up and turned around, making his way down to where the group of five were somehow gathered around a table.

Louis stopped at the table and cleared his throat, mouth open and ready to politely request they keep it down when the man who was sitting with his back to Louis turned.

He was stunningly gorgeous.

Blinking a ridiculous number of times in an attempt to pull himself together, Louis coughed and spit out, “This is the quiet carriage.”

God, he was nearly forty and that was the best he could do in front of a set of pretty, green eyes?

Or the one where Harry is famous and Louis doesn't have a clue. Good thing his son is able to help him out.

All That You Need by @haztobegood

[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Pre-heat was always one of Harry’s favorite times to spend with Louis. It was a time to rest up and indulge in extra cuddles, like basking in a ray of sunshine before having to dive off the deep end. Louis lavishes him with tender touches and soft kisses. Harry wants to savor this time as long as possible. The unquenchable need will come later, but for now, his desires are simple. He just needed to be closer to his alpha. As close as possible.

sickly sweet fonding by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

A few members of their crew start piling up the dirty dishes and taking them over to the sink. Harry walks around the cameras, and smiles brightly at Louis.

“What do you think, Lou? Do I have it in the bag?”

Louis eyes a bowl of bright pink lumpy batter being cleaned from Harry’s side. “Of course you do.” He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and steers him away, all while ignoring the dramatic gagging Niall is doing. He doesn’t think it’s just the batter making Niall gag.

or the one where Louis fonds over Harry's horrible baking skills

Fractured Moonlight by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Louis/Harry, 1k, Mature, tumblr post]

Louis huffs because he doesn’t want to deal with this. “Listen, I appreciate your concern.” He doesn’t. “But it’s not your duty to look after the sad man at the bar. Okay?”

'Ere comes the milk by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit]

Louis is obsessed with Harry's mommy milkers.

everything comes back to you by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays

[Louis/Harry, 8k, Explicit]

Harry and Louis are childhood best friends. What happens when Harry has to move towns just as they are starting their secondary gender presentations? What happens when fate brings them back together years later in the most unexpected of ways?

He Still Takes My Breath Away by @parmahamlarrie

[Harry/Louis, 32k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Camp Infinity is the perfect place for a lot of things; hiking, swimming, sports, eating, and falling in love. Harry Styles is a bit too familiar with the last one from his years of being a camper. This year things will be different. He’s 21, a grown man now, and ready to see Camp Infinity from a different point of view; working as a lifeguard. However, his whole summer turns upside down when a familiar British lad makes his return into Harry's life.Or the one where Harry is a lifeguard and Louis is the head of recreation. And, sometimes, you just need a little push to realize what was right in front of you the whole time.

Also known as – The Summer Camp Fic

tread lightly on my ground by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale

[Louis/Harry, 20k, Explicit, tumblr post]

No, that's the tragic part of this, the part that makes Harry feel like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. The father of his baby is exactly right, exactly who he always imagined himself having kids with. He just imagined them married, bonded. Happy. He didn't imagine them barely talking, tip-toeing around each other because neither of them is brave enough to talk about what happened between them. He didn't imagine the father of his child not loving him back.

or, the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.

Getting a Head for Heights by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13

[Louis/Greg James, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

The problem is, Louis thinks Greg would be quite good to date, so it would really help if everyone would stop reminding him of that fact so he could unthink it. He’d be a gentleman, at least until Louis talked him out of it, and he’s funny and nice and hot and they’re both into music and football and drama. He’s also a freakish giant of a human, and the problem with dating is that sooner or later you have to stand next to each other.

We Go Together (series) by @beelou / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, 3k, General, tumblr post]

A grease au

Hot Boy Summer (series) by @louisandtheaquarian / zita17

[Harry/Louis, 35k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Louis is an overworked bartender hoping to save up enough extra tips to buy a new air conditioner before he literally melts during a scorching NYC heat wave. Harry is the new neighbor that wakes him up by moving in his sole day off at 6am. An NYC enemies to neighbors to lovers AU featuring a rickety fire escape, the 2021 Euros, Lirry bickering like a divorced couple, and enough OT5 clichés to rot your teeth. (If Harry's pastries don't get them first.)

across the river is where my heart is by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 8k, General, tumblr post]

The first time they see each other is when they are toddlers, playing out in the yard. Louis remembers sitting on the perfectly trimmed lawn and getting yelled at for picking at the soft blades of grass; she remembers looking over, across the narrow but deep and wild river, and watching another little girl, out in a different garden, picking flowers for her mother.

She remembers carefully raising her hand and waving—her little heart beating hard in her chest, as if she had done something dangerous, something forbidden, even though back then she could not understand the true divide the River made amongst them.

bright eyes, blue denim by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

Louis' favourite jeans have suddenly disappeared from where he always got them. Harry is a store manager with an affinity for customer care, particularly when the customer has bright blue eyes and happens to be very flirty.

whatever you feel like doing in this moment by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Harry/Louis, 2k, General, tumblr post]

Louis gets all that he's ever wanted during his favourite game at their group's weekly improv show.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Begrudging Allies (Aaron Hotchner x Trans!Male!Reader)

Summary: Aaron and Y/N's marriage is suitable enough, given that Aaron secretly loves men and Y/N secretly is a man. When the one year anniversary of their amicable nuptials brings forth correspondence from their estranged families, Aaron takes the opportunity to potentially make something more out of their arrangement.

AN: This is one of my entries to the "Enemies 2 Lovers" challenge set by @imagining-in-the-margins​ on Tumblr!

Reader is trans male and uses he/him pronouns. 

WC: 2.4k words

Content Warning: References to era appropriate homophobia/transphobia but nothing actually mentioned. Two dumb fucking gay men trying to flirt.

Photo Credit // Masterlist // AO3

Your name: submit What is this?

Aaron Hotchner and Y/N L/N were served breakfast together every day they were in the house together. They sat not at opposite ends, but the seat left adjacent to them. That way, they did not have to look at each other whilst they ate. Breakfast was the only meal with which they shared each other’s company. Why make it unbearable first thing in the morning? They read the morning paper - and any post - while eating. Only the scrape of their plates and muted chewing was to be heard before the chairs scraped across the floorboards and both men departed.

Today they both received a note from the L/N household back in their old country.

“I assume your letter reads the same as mine,” Y/N dropped his beside his plate before pushing it further away.

Hotchner raised his eye from the headline that had been mildly entertaining him, “It does.”

In cursive flicks, the usual complaints of their emigration had reached his eyes not moments prior. The closing of his family’s letter however broached a new request: a photograph of the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary, specifically a recreation. The ungrateful bunch, the only remaining wedding photographs of the wedding were in their hands.

“I don’t have the dress,” Y/N scoffed and looked aside. Even from this end of the table, Aaron could see that he was trying to mask his tears from the dawn. The wedding day was the culmination of their greatest shames.

At least Aaron had tried to make the best of it, but there was no relief for Y/N until they were in their separate chambers and free from all betrothment attire.

“Suppose we should arrange for a fitting. Though how we’re going to do that without arousing any suspicion here is beyond me.” “Perhaps we can go north, find a seamstress and a wigmaker there.”

Aaron did not patronise Y/N by pretending he understood his plight. He himself had never pictured himself with a wife; worse was that Y/N had never pictured himself to be a wife.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remain a woman?” He had said after Y/N had confessed during their third arranged rendezvous.

With venom spitting from each syllable, Y/N’s reply was one that he remembered vividly: “I was never a woman to start with.”

They were not friends, they barely spoke, but the enemy of the enemy is a friend. This sentiment made Y/N a begrudging ally.

However it did not make the occasions they had to pretend to be a happily wedded couple any simpler. Y/N did look most becoming in white, but Aaron knew that there was no worse day for Y/N than that day in the church. Any reminder was like a stake through the heart.

“I’ll arrange for the fitting,” Aaron quietly volunteered.

Y/N was quick with a brusque reply, “I can organise my own affairs.”

“Of course, but perhaps it would lighten your load if I took on those responsibilities.” Aaron paused as Y/N pushed aside his breakfast plate, his eggs now making his stomach turn. He used his newspaper as a shield, “And as your husband, I give you permission to dress how you please.”

Y/N blinked then nodded. He did not ever say thank you. That was his problem, Y/N, too proud. Too nervous to admit that he had been graciously allowed to exist like this because of his marriage to Aaron. As if that was ever any part of their agreement, both of them had blackmail worthy material. Y/N just seemed to forget that, or at least he was not the type of individual to dangle Aaron’s secrets before him like a carrot on a stick. Why Y/N thought that Aaron was that type though, he had some idea.

“A member of the bar?” was the response Aaron got from Y/N, disgust thinly veiled, upon their first chaperoned walk through the L/N estate. It must have seemed contradictory later down the line, to be a protector of the laws that criminalised his very own existence. It was not as uncommon as Y/N believed however, and there were much worse laws to break between trials than being attracted to men.

A man of his word, Aaron prepared for a fitting in the comfort of their own home. A friend of theirs was a tailor; accommodations were no economic issue. Of course, this friend did not know either of their secrets, but other than that, he was a companion who would be greeted warmly into their home.

Y/N watched the tailor from the chaise whilst pretending to be interested in a book. His eye would raise itself to see each adjustment made to Aaron’s wedding suit, which he had surprisingly kept – folded in a box at the farthest corner of the house. Then Y/N would go back to the page and reread the top few lines. Every time, Aaron would pretend not to notice. But the jiggle of Y/N’s knee, the absence of progression through the book’s narrative, taught him that Y/N was anticipating this fitting with something more positive than last time.

“All done, thank you, Aaron!” “Y/N, your turn.”

His book snapped shut and Y/N stepped up to the podium. Aaron swapped places with him without acting out the role of an aloof reader. As expected his expression was well disguised as neutral, but Aaron’s practice in law gifted him with a pair of spectacles into the soul. Y/N’s glee of the tape measure taking in his proportions was masked so that only his eyes smiled. Once or twice, the corner of his mouth ticked up, only to iron its creases out when the tailor moved into his eyeline. When asked what colour he would consider, Y/N mulled deliciously his options before selecting a gentle blue. His fingers were cautious but as soon as they touched the royal fabric offered, they fanned out and welcomed it for his new suit.

From the moment they broke apart, his hands were restless. Ticking against his teacup or tapping against his legs were two of their new favourite hobbies. Even when the suit arrived, Y/N could not keep himself still. His beautiful face was scrunched up in the mirror as he attempted for a third time to make the right knot in his cravat. The photographer was waiting for them downstairs.

Aaron sighed and knocked one knuckle to the door, “Allow me.”

Y/N rolled his eyes, “I can do it myself.”

“I know. But this knot will look better.”

Their eyes locked in the mirror, before Y/N turned around and released his tie. His chin pointed parallel to the carpet. His neck was still so as not to drop the breath he was holding. Aaron flicked with the tip of the cravat as his hands slotted it through, his focus on the column of Y/N’s throat, because meeting his gaze now was an impossible feat. They were too close for that. He bent the stalks of his collar into place then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork. But that was not at all what he really regarded.

He cleared his throat, “There.”

As Aaron removed his hands, Y/N spun to face his reflection head on. “Adequate. You’ll have to teach me that one.”

Finally, they greeted their photographer, who had set up his camera in their garden. It was a lovely day, not to be wasted inside. At least that’s what the photographer said as he unceremoniously ushered them into place and posed them to his liking. There was no instruction for how to position their faces so Aaron kept his the same as their original wedding portrait.

His plan for relaxed facial features hit a bump in the road. As the photographer ducked beneath his sheet, Y/N snorted. His hand was quick to follow and it clapped over his mouth. The photographer emerged with concerned curiosity. A strand of his combover was standing on end.

“My apologies, there was a tickle in my throat.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head, his feet scuffing one inch’s worth of dirt before he regained composure.

The photographer tried again. Aaron could see, in the corner of his eye, that Y/N’s corners of his mouth weighed down to prevent a break but it was unsuccessful.

“Do forgive me,” He said, his voice quivering, “I remembered a jest from last week. It isn’t even worth the laughter it brings.”

Despite his detractions, Y/N kept guffawing to himself as the photographer kept dodging about his cloth and camera. It spilled from between his pressed lips like an overflowing goblet. Aaron had not heard such delight before. He would describe it as infectious if the joy in Y/N’s notes was comparable to a plague. No, this was intoxicating, a mead he would heartily drink until he too was giddy on the stuff. Y/N, clutching Aaron’s arm to stay standing, almost stumbled as Aaron bent over with equally bashful laughter.

“It would possibly suit you better if you sat,” said the photographer through a faux smile. He then ushered over to one of the benches, the one amidst the tulips, before he wrangled with his camera after them.

Seated on the cool marble, Aaron kept a few inches between himself and Y/N. Their hands took that space but waited to hold hands. Y/N was still shaking but his smile was minute now, replaced by mild embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that funny,” He said. But there was a twitch in his voice, a breath that indicated otherwise.

“No, not at all,” whispered Aaron, his head tilted against the invisible line between them.

Y/N turned, his nose pushing their boundary and almost brushing against Aaron’s cheek when he too turned to face him.

“At long last, we agree.”

Y/N’s lips betrayed him again. A bubble of laughter popped between them, letting out the smallest of smiles. Yet it shone through with such luminosity that it almost outdid the flash of the bulb as their photograph was taken. There was delight at the absence of the melancholy pose that a long exposure wedding portrait promised. Oh, the wonders of new technology.

As was with his new suit, Y/N practically waited by the door for the photographs. His hands were beyond ravenous for them by the time they arrived. They snatched at the envelope and tore with as much care as he could muster, his voice catching in the roof of his mouth as he called for Aaron.

On the chaise together, their knees were brought in close to rest the papers upon. Their faces looked as though they were carved into the paper with charcoal, smudged by an artist’s thumb. That radiant smile among it all was the centre of the photograph. Aaron noted the distance between them was mirrored in their past selves as they sifted through their options.

Then Y/N held aloft the ones for their respective families, “Sit with me while I pen the reply.”

Aaron was not usually welcome in Y/N’s study. Yet, as he pulled up a walnut wood chair with red velvet seat beside the bureau, behind Y/N’s matching one, he felt like he was in place. With anticipation, he watched the most passive aggressive comments that had ever been put to paper. All bar one was spun from Y/N’s inspiration. Aaron had but one to add and it took some convincing for Y/N to put it in his family’s correspondence – he was writing since his writing was far neater. Even so, there were a few loops of the ‘l’s that slanted when Y/N was particularly amused by something that Aaron had commented on.

“There,” Y/N said as he closed the second of two envelopes with crimson wax. As he lifted the seal, he spoke quieter, “Just a thought, nothing more, but I almost wish I could see their faces. Only the first second though.” The seal was placed in his drawer and the letters were left in the centre of the desk while one remaining photograph was selected by Y/N, “I want to keep this. In the drawing room.”

Aaron’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead, “You do?”

Y/N nodded once with finality, his broad smile returning, “It’s the first time I was myself in a long time, the best I’ve ever looked! Besides, I am your husband and I say it will stand above the fireplace by the end of the week – once I find a suitable frame.”

He held it up, squinting to imagine what frame might work best with the décor. His chair itching to be closer, Hotch leant over and cupped his hand over Y/N’s so that he could see the photograph too. It stayed there, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Hotchner could have sworn that Y/N’s back slacked and swayed to the right an inch, almost resting against his shoulder beside Aaron’s.

Y/N’s quiet voice was back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You do not have to say thank you.”

“When are you going to stop telling me what to do?”

There was no accusation in it; it was asked as simply as one would ask for another napkin. But Aaron did not quite know how to answer.

“I don’t mean to come across as a drill sergeant,” He said softly.

“Aaron,” Y/N lowered their hands but kept them together beside his lap, “You don’t have to worry about me and what I’m going to do, just like I don’t have to worry about you.”

And what Aaron thought about being ignorant of an answer before, that became a lie. Aaron wanted to worry about Y/N, and he did worry. Not for himself or his identity being exposed, but because he did care for his husband. He didn’t want to worry or have Y/N be worried about control in their home. They should exist as equals, not in blackmail but in respect. Maybe one day, in love.

Aaron settled instead for: “My apologies. And I thank you too. It was the first time I was myself as well.”

Y/N blinked, then avoided his stare. It was a revelation therefore when he laced his fingers with Aaron’s for the briefest of squeeze and replied, “No thanks necessary. It was my pleasure.”

Then the bell tinkled for breakfast and the two men were up on their feet. Y/N was in the dining room first. He sat two away from the head of the table this time. With enough care to drag his chair loudly across the floor, Aaron mirrored that seating, dragging his cutlery and crockery into place. As they were served, Y/N swiped the newspaper before his husband could with a smirk hidden behind the pages. Hotchner poured his coffee and smiled into the brew. He was, for once, thoroughly glad that they had breakfast together.

----> ----> ----> ----> ---->

Tagging

Aaron Hotchner fics: @averyhotchner​

[thealexchen]

One Year On: Life is Strange 2 Critique

December 3rd, 2020 marks a year since Life is Strange 2 ended. I was inspired by @smitethepatriarchy‘s text posts (here, but there are several other answered asks worth reading) and @suhaplays’s text post (here) criticizing Life is Strange 2 to write a critique about how Life is Strange 2 handled certain themes and social issues.

(tw: gun violence, police brutality, animal death, incarceration, racism. In this essay, I use the word “queer” in a reclaimed sense, as a queer person myself. Of course, spoiler warning for all five episodes of Life is Strange 1 and 2).

A year on, my feelings about this game have soured... a lot. When the game was first announced, I was overjoyed that our new protagonists would be two Latino boys. Finally, we would have a culturally meaningful, groundbreaking video game with people of color and their experiences at the forefront! 

Then the game was met with immediate backlash and I utterly exhausted myself defending it for weeks on Reddit and Tumblr. Throughout 2019, as the episodes came out I became increasingly disillusioned, frustrated, and disappointed with where the story was going. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so damn miserable while playing this game.

Then in the summer of 2020, when Tell Me Why began rolling out pre-release material, I noticed that they posted a Q&A about transphobia, gave content warnings, and discussed at length about their collaboration with GLAAD, Checkpoint, and the Huna Heritage Foundation to make the game with sensitivity and proper research. I cannot speak for trans and gender non-conforming people on whether Dontnod succeeded at doing so with Tell Me Why. But Life is Strange 2 did… none of that.

Essentially, I realized that the reason why I was so frustrated with LiS2 is because it focuses way too heavily on a trauma narrative. This comes off as insensitive to players of color without any content warnings or extensive research.

Sean didn’t have to get kidnapped, kicked in the face, and called a racial slur by a gas station owner. Daniel did not need to watch his puppy get mauled by a mountain lion for the sake of a “difficult choice.” Sean didn’t have to lose his eye for the sake of heightened drama. Sean didn’t need to get called a racial slur and humiliated by his native language/beaten in the desert for refusing to sing. Daniel didn’t need to get shot— twice. Hell, all of “Faith” probably could’ve been cut— how is a church cult that brainwashes Daniel and beats Sean half to death relevant at all to the story?

Even if not all of the game’s violence was racially motivated, the consistent trauma that Sean and Daniel endure does not make for positive representation— or even good characterization. There is a difference between sympathetic characters and well-written characters, and trauma does not make Sean and Daniel any more complex or likable-- just more fucking traumatized.

LiS2 is more grounded in reality, but that also makes plot holes that much harder to excuse (Daniel’s powers being spotted, most of the Parting Ways ending, Sean’s prison sentence). But most of all, it grounds all of Sean and Daniel’s pain and trauma in reality. 

There is no magicking away a town-destroying storm with time travel. Sean can’t keep his dad alive by ripping up a Polaroid. After Max unlocked her powers, she was still a Blackwell student, reconnecting with Chloe, taking photos, saving lives, and uncovering a murder mystery. After Daniel unlocked his powers, the Diaz brothers lost everything. 

The game never lets you forget that Sean and Daniel are homeless, wanted, constantly in danger, and that they are never getting their old lives back. It permeates the entire game, and for players of color, just reinforces a sad, miserable, grim reality about living in the United States. It is, as @smitethepatriarchy said, potentially triggering for players of color, and it is certainly not something I needed to be reminded of.

And the representation of POC? It feels shallow and ill-researched. It would only take a Google search to find out that Dia de Muertos (a holiday to honor the dead, no less) was from October 31 to November 2 in 2016, the year the game takes place, but Daniel only talks about Halloween in episode 1. Sean and Daniel never discuss any Mexican customs, foods, or holidays. Sean doesn’t speak Spanish with his immigrant father, only during a scene when he’s traumatized (again!) by two racists, and again when talking to Mexican immigrants— in jail. Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish at all. Most of their allies throughout the game are white, including Finn and Cassidy, who appropriate Black culture with their dreadlocks.

So what’s left? Sean and Daniel’s existence as people of color is, at worst, just a narrative prop to justify everything that happens to them. They are people of color on the surface only. In a meta-sense, the game only considers the color of their skin and their last names as what is narratively important… yikes.

I don’t have anything against people who genuinely loved the game and were moved by its messages and story. But I can’t help but feel bitter that white players have the luxury of only thinking of this game as a work of fiction and not feeling any personal reliability to Sean and Daniel’s racialized trauma.

I don’t regret playing LiS2, but I do regret all the time and energy I spent defending it in the beginning. I understand now that I shouldn’t let people’s opinions get to me, nor should I feel obligated to like or defend a game for its attempts at representation. But now, I think I understand how queer fans must have felt in late 2015 when Polarized released. After following the game for 10 months, to see that Chloe’s ultimate destiny was to die and Pricefield is another ship plagued by the Bury Your Gays trope (in the ending that the devs clearly put more work into) must have been just as disillusioning and infuriating. I understand why some fans were so quick to unfollow LiS or develop mixed feelings about the series, because that’s how I feel too after following LiS2’s development from September 2018 to December 2019.

Before I end, I will admit that Life is Strange 2 arrived at a time when I needed it. I still stand by my belief that DN did a great job characterizing Sean, Daniel, and Chris without toxic masculinity, which is the best thing they could’ve done for a male-focused follow-up to a game about queer women. I love that Sean is still a canonically bisexual man of color in a major video game and that DN didn’t forget their queer audience. I love the world and characters that DN built, but I still prefer AU fanfictions of their normal lives, without all that trauma. 

So, I will continue to treasure Lyla and her 10 minutes of screentime (aka the only shred of Asian American representation I can get from this series). I still reblog LiS2 fanart to support the artists. I still support Dontnod, because as Tell Me Why has shown, they are capable of researching and writing stories with more sensitivity. And let’s be honest-- I’m still gonna be hella excited if Life is Strange 3 is announced.

But so many aspects of Life is Strange 2 were bungled that it came off as a remarkably average and forgettable experience. A year on, I don’t hate Life is Strange 2, but I am writing this to move on from it.

Thank you for reading.

[nbrook29]

love you to the moon and to saturn

This is part 4 of my Sander in NYC ‘verse. I posted it on ao3, but recently I’ve also been posting my fics on tumblr so here it is 😌

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Warnings: mild sexual content

* * *

Saturday, 10:00

His sleep was anxious, mind too preoccupied with stress to allow him to get a proper rest. The wake up was even worse as mere seconds after he blinked the sleep away from his tired eyes the memories of last night crept back in, flooding him with worry and making his brain replay the argument over and over again like a broken cassette. And then he checked his phone only to find a string of messages and missed calls, all from Sander, causing his stomach to twist with nerves at what they were going to say. 

His abrupt leaving had been a dick move and if Sander was pissed, Robbe knew he couldn’t blame him. So he stalled, finger barely swiping at the screen as he was unsure whether to unlock it and face the consequences or maybe throw the phone back on his bedside table and bury himself under the covers to wait for his courage to come back and for his nerves to settle.

Heaving a sigh, he chose option number one because it was the only rational one. 

He tapped Sander’s photo, holding his breath without even registering it.

Two seconds later he knew.

He didn’t need to worry.

 Sunday 13:00

Robbe hides another smile into his glass at the thought of yesterday’s evening, trying to focus on what Marie is saying. She’s talking animatedly about a guy she met at her new internship, hearts almost flowing out of her eyes as she swoons on the wooden stool and sips her black coffee. She’s the kind of girl who falls in love quickly and falls out of love just as quick. Across from where he’s sitting, he sees Fien and Lucas rolling their eyes at her exaggerated lovesick sighes making him snort in his marshmallow latte.

“Weren’t you obsessed with that lanky guy from Starbucks last week? What happened to him?”

Marie shrugs, tossing her long brown hair back from her shoulders. “I decided he was too old for me.”

“Didn’t you say he was 21?” Robbe interjects with amusement, remembering their group messenger chat he caught up with this morning.

“Exactly!” 

They all start bickering about the appropriate age difference in relationships, Robbe watching them as he munches happily on one of the soggy marshmallows he fished out from his cup, trying not to giggle at Lucas’ scandalized face at Marie calling 21 old. Robbe knows from the many stories Lucas has shared so far that his own boyfriend is a senior at college so his reaction is even more entertaining because of that.

It feels good to be around them again, Robbe thinks to himself. He’s been canceling on them way too often those last few weeks and he still feels guilty about it. They’re a fun bunch, their bantery dynamic established since day one when they all chose the middle row to sit in during their morning classes, and then promptly spent half of it bonding over the outrageous occurrence that was the absence of a coffee shop on the campus. Not long after, Robbe also discovered that apart from the passion for filmmaking, they all also like skateboarding. After that, the rest was history.

They were for sure a nice distraction from Robbe’s intrusive thoughts in the beginning of the semester. He lucked out, finding his group, his people, so early on in his college journey. But at some point even their goofiness and honest attempts at cheering him up weren’t enough. Not since the news from Sander came that he’s staying in New York until February and since the thing with Jens.

Now, observing them from over his half-drunk coffee, lips twitching at some of the more creative but still lowkey insults Marie and Lucas throw at each other, he realizes he has really missed them. They’re like siblings, the two of them, constantly bickering and teasing one another, but it’s all good-natured and amusing to watch. 

“Oh my god, let it go, children, for the love of god,” Fien cuts in abruptly, before turning her big expectant eyes on Robbe, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and adding innocently, “I’d finally like to hear about Sobbe’s makeup.”

Heat rushes to Robbe’s cheeks and he scratches at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden. She’s the number one fangirl of his relationship, he has learned recently, but in a cute way, not creepy like Aaron sometimes used to be with his invasive questions. She always moans about being forever single, pouting at Robbe for some fluffy snippets and claiming in faux-seriousness that he owes it to the world to share them with others for being lucky enough to have a fairytale-like love story. 

Robbe has never disclosed to them how unfairytale-like some of the details are because it’s not his story to tell. But he really likes her so he always indulges her, usually after a bit of teasing. And, sue him, but he’s proud of his relationship and the fact that he of all people can call Sander his boyfriend, so even if he brags a little, he thinks he has good reasons for it. 

(He’s still kinda smug when he thinks about the time when he showed the three of them a photo of Sander, a pleased little smile on his face at their reactions and playful threats of stealing him for themselves.)

“Oh yeah, I wanna know too,” Marie agrees excitedly, scooting her chair closer to him. “You’ve been all smiley ever since you came over here so I’m guessing that hottie of yours did something right,” she ends on a teasing note, her waggling eyebrows leaving Robbe no doubts she expects some saucy details.

“Oh my god, stop,” he groans as he hides his face in his hands, his friends giggling at his embarrassment. “It wasn’t like that! We just… finally talked things out.”

 Saturday, 18:00 (flashback to last night)

Robbe’s been gnawing on his bottom lip relentlessly, completely unaware, to the point it’s a few bites away from drawing blood. He can’t help but feel nervous, the cursor hovering over the 'accept' button as he's rolling his eyes on himself internally, telling himself to stop making a bigger deal out of this that it needs to be. There is a bit of embarrassment clouding his logical reasoning to be honest, embarrassment about his overreaction last night.

Was it an overreaction? He's still not completely sure, but it's not like avoiding the situation is going to magically fix everything between them. Even though he'd really like that. It feels so awkward to be in this position. Robbe doesn't know what the protocol here is. They bicker, quite often even. Fight a little too, stomping off out of each other’s room grumpily but only over stupid stuff, nothing like this.

He's walking on an unknown ground just hoping he's not going to make things worse. He desperately needs their dynamic back because he's already over it. 

Not being able to share the most mundane every day stuff with each other over texts to joke about it, rile the other up or just vent about something stupid like their coffees not being hot enough on a given rainy morning sucks.

So he takes a deep breath and clicks on the button before he works himself into a never-ending second-guessing.

When Sander says a soft hi and smiles at him with the usual warmth in his eyes, something akin to relief courses through him from head to toe. 

He gives him his own tentative smile and a short hi, pushing himself higher against the pillows. Before Sander can say anything more, he lets go of what has been weighing down on him the entire day.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, contrite. “About yesterday. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just logged off like that without explanation. And then ignore your messages,” he adds after a pause because that’s what he feels most guilty about. He knows he’d freak out if Sander just cut him off without giving him an opportunity to talk things out, would worry himself sick. 

Sander looks conflicted, brows knitted together, like a part of him wants to reassure Robbe because it's in his nature, but the other part is genuinely hurt. Robbe doesn't want compassion. Not for that, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Causing Sander distress is the last thing he wants.

"Yeah, it did suck," he finally admits after a moment passes, and Robbe finds comfort in his honesty. It’s a good start. They won’t get anywhere with false niceties and pretending everything’s fine. Robbe tried pretending, yesterday and most of their calls before that, and it got them where they are now.

“I mean, I know you didn’t want to talk about your problems yesterday,” pausing, he scrunches up his nose a bit, “but maybe next time just don’t log off so abruptly so I know you’re okay?” his voice tilts on a hopeful note.

Robbe just nods, feeling shameful, hating that there’s not much more that he can do when he’s talking to him through his computer, and can’t exactly reach out to cuddle up to Sander’s side or kiss the underside of his jaw as a silent apology to then stay close for the rest of the evening as they heal together. 

It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it affects them both the same amount and Robbe needs to remember that. Because the truth is, Sander didn’t exactly give him a legitimate reason to doubt him or to think he didn’t miss him. Those full of hurt eyes Sander gave him yesterday at the suggestion have been eating away at him all day.

Robbe just got swallowed by his own insecurities and let the little things that bothered him consume him all instead of, well. Communicating.

Sander was right yesterday. Of course he was.

He knows he has some more apologies to give.

“I’m also sorry for not telling you earlier how I felt,” he keeps pouring his heart out, “and for, you know, assuming you don’t miss me much, and-”

“Woah, hey,” Sander stops him before he can get himself deeper into the spiral. “Robbe, I fucked up too, don’t take it all on yourself.” He adjusts his laptop and Robbe can see his face clearer now, his eyes bloodshot and tired, a clear sign of a sleepless night, and the guilt clogs his throat even more now.

“I should have seen something wasn’t right.” When Robbe shakes his head and goes back to apologizing, Sander shoots him a pointed look that makes him shut up. “I should have, don’t deny it. You know, I took a long walk yesterday after you hung up, to clear my head, but also to get a perspective on our latest talks. And I felt so dumb for not realizing you were not doing okay.”

“Sander, I don’t expect you to read my mind,” Robbe tries to joke, but it falls flat even in his own ears. But he can’t bear those big regretful eyes on him. He doesn't deserve them.

“Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you needed me to. Please tell me now? What’s been bothering you, hmm?” 

Robbe scrubs his face trying to collect his thoughts, to find a concise way to get everything out of his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“It may take a while.”

Sander makes a show of fluffing the pillow he placed against his back and getting himself more comfortable on his bed, sighing with contentment for a better effect. 

“Look, I’m in my comfy clothes, got an energy drink on my nightstand, the computer battery is full and I told everyone I’m busy so they won’t nag me with anything. I’m all yours today.” He gives him an encouraging smile, fondness etched into every crevice of his face.

Robbe’s heart does a little skip at his words, Sander’s demeanor so comforting that he feels the last pieces of apprehension ebbing away, the need to vent overpowering the hesitation of showing his vulnerability. 

“I think I just found myself overwhelmed with some things,” he admits quietly, picking at his nail, an absent-minded habit when he’s nervous, as he’s trying to find the right words. “A lot has changed in those last few months, almost all at once, and I kinda have trouble coping. And like,” he scoffs at himself, “I’m angry with myself ‘cause I should be enjoying most of it, being in college and majoring in something that I actually like, and it’s great, but I can’t help but focus on all the things that are different now, things that are not so great.”

Before continuing, he flicks his gaze to Sander for a second, only to then cast his eyes back to his lap. “The last two years with you were the happiest of my life, you know? After years of bullshit and constant misery and pretending to be somebody I wasn’t I-,” he sighs, bittersweet smile on his lips,”I finally found my person, you know?”

Sander mirrors his smile, but he’s frowning a little. “But you still have me,” he reminds him softly.

“I know, but it sucks when I can’t just, I don’t know, snuggle up you and forget about stuff. It’s all your fault, by the way, you’ve been too good to me and now I have withdrawal symptoms,” he pouts, and hears Sander chuckling on the other side of the screen.

“You have no idea how much I wish virtual hugs were a thing. And kisses, oh my god, kisses too. I’m so kiss-deprived. Once I finally get my hands on you, I won’t let you go for a week.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

For a short moment, Sander manages to bring a genuine smile on his face, but it quickly disappears when the reality sets back in. There are still almost four long months to get through. He watches Sander’s smile slipping off his face slowly and he knows they’re both thinking about it.

The boy sighs deeply. “You know, sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to-”

Robbe’s eyes snap to him. “No, no, no, don’t think that, it wasn’t a mistake. Please don’t feel guilty or something, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he stresses. Sander still looks conflicted, and fuck, this is exactly what Robbe wanted to avoid.

“Hey, I’m serious. Look, you not being here is tough, but like I said, it’s just things piling up, changing. Shit like school work that has been piling up and me getting so stressed about the end-of-the-semester project because I still haven’t figured out the details. Plus people moving away, all of that makes it difficult for me to adjust. So don’t go thinking it’s because you’re the center of my universe or something,” he ends his rambling with a feigned-offended huff and Sander easily lets them slip into their usual banter.

“I’m not?! Wow, the things a guy finds out after being such a devoted and doting and loving boyfriend.” He wipes the imaginary tear, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Such a menace, breaking my heart in half on this lovely Saturday afternoon.” He purses his lips in offence and Robbe is grateful for Sander’s attempt to lift the mood, trying to be upbeat.

He feels a tug in his chest thinking about how if Sander was here, he’d be tackling him to the nearest surface to shut him up with tickles and loud smooches and playful jabs in the sides and how they would make much more noise than necessary, acting like the rambunctious teens they are.

That’s going to have to wait too. But he discovers this thought doesn’t hurt as much as it would have yesterday because their conversation right now, this opportunity to vent and Sander’s texts last night, all of it makes him feel better, helps him see he’s not alone.

“I love you,” he blurts out all of a sudden, and it’s something he’s wanted to say since he read his heartfelt texts this morning that almost made him cry in relief.

Sander blinks a couple times, surprised, but then his previously playful face melts into such a fond look it makes Robbe blush like it was the first time he said it.

The I love you too comes right away, soft and quiet, like he’s telling a secret, and it’s heart-stoppingly precious.

To keep himself from drowning in fuzzy feelings, he shoots him a private little smile and steers the conversation back to his friends, telling him how it sucks that it’s they all now live away and how unexpectedly difficult it is to meet up. Robbe’s used to basically having everyone at arm-reach.

“We do video call, obviously, but you know, Milan is all loved up with Ralph in Amsterdam and not that keen on leaving their love nest and Zoe and Senne keep traveling between Genk and Ghent, which with Zoe’s coursework and internship is already a struggle. I don’t think they’re doing that well, actually,” he winces, remembering their last conversation.

If during freshman year somebody had told Robbe who his best friends were going to be, he’d looked at them as if they had grown two heads. Because for real, Jana’s new friend and her roommate? And school’s fuckboy? 

But life’s funny like that sometimes. Moving into their apartment in his sophomore year has been one of the best decisions he’s ever made. His number one best decision is currently frowning at him from his dirty screen.

“Oh, that sucks. Do you think they’ll work it out?” 

Robbe sighs deeply, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “Senne has been thinking about finding a job in Genk so I hope so.”

Sander huffs a laugh suddenly, shaking his head. “Wow, I wish I was in his place and there were only 2 hours between us, instead of a whole ass ocean.”

“Yeah, I think once you’re back we’re gonna have a master's degree in that long distance bullshit,” Robbe smiles at him wistfully. 

“Ugh, never again though. You’re not getting rid of me, it sucks without you, Robin.” He sounds so grumpy Robbe can’t help the short giggle that escapes him, but deep down he’s happy they both share that sentiment.

They’re staring at each other now, enjoying the moment before Sander shoots him a knowing look. “You haven’t mentioned Jens.”

That sobers him up enough for the fuzzy feelings to disappear from his stomach. 

Jens. There’s not much to talk about really. And isn’t that a punch-in-a gut kind of truth considering it was his best friend? Isn’t it heartbreaking that Robbe didn’t even feel like fighting for that relationship and there’s a nagging voice in his head telling him that Jens didn’t either? Just a regular heated argument was enough to finally cut that last string, to put a stop to a friendship that had been hanging by a thread long before. Not that they had noticed.

He felt awful, afterwards. More alone than ever before. But deep down he knew it had only been a matter of time. He just wished Sander had been there to pick up the pieces.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Robbe winces, going back to apologizing once he translates his feelings to words the best he can, hoping he made Sander understand.

The boy pulls a face at him, eyes narrowed as he pretends to give him a stern look. “Enough with apologizing today, okay?” He waits until Robbe nods, albeit begrudgingly, because it’s in his second nature to keep saying sorry when he knows he messed up.

He nestles against his pillows to get more comfortable as he glances to the window, registering that sometime during their call it got completely dark outside, November days getting shorter still. He can feel tiredness starting to creep into his bones, the nervous anticipation before their call he had endured all day wearing him down significantly. 

There are still some things he needs to get out of his chest and Sander coaxes them gently one by one, listening to him moaning and groaning about his school course load and how he thinks he’s not skilled enough to come up with interesting ideas and being quick to cut him off and reassure him when Robbe’s words get self-deprecating. He’s so attentive and so patient with him, not even an ounce of judgement in his eyes that Robbe feels the pressure and stress that have accumulated over the last few weeks finally letting go with each word he pours out.

When the conversation eventually steers to Robbe’s uni friends and he admits sheepishly that he kinda ghosted them lately, feeling too blue to go out and have fun, Sander interrupts him mid-sentence.

“You should reach out to them, tonight.”

At Robbe’s unsure look, he continues, “If they’re as cool as you made them out to be, I’m sure they’re gonna understand you needed some time to figure things out.”

He then proceeds to cover his ears and whistle, refusing to talk more until Robbe caves and shoots a text to the group chat, trying to keep it short, but explaining things along the way and making amends. Sander’s very pleased with his persuasion skills, beaming at him when Robbe reads him the replies he gets from Lucas, Marie and Fien, wearing a small smile himself as he rolls his eyes at Sander’s smug face. 

Sander then asks about his mom and it’s so sweet because he always makes sure to ask, and Robbe falls for him even more each time he does. He’s a bit reluctant when Robbe tries to make him talk about his recent days, keeps saying this call is not about him, but he gives in before Robbe gets upset about it.

Watching his eyes light up with excitement when he talks about his classes works like a balm for Robbe’s yearning heart, Sander’s genuine happiness making his own struggles worth it. It’s a nice reminder that he’s there to make his dreams come true and that it’s everything Robbe has wished for him.

When Sander talks about shenanigans with his friends, Robbe recalls the TikTok video he watched some days ago.

“Nice Michael Jackson moves, by the way,” he comments, trying to sound innocent, but it ends up coming out a little coyishly as he bites at his finger to hide his smirk. 

Confusion clouds Sander’s face but only for a second. Then, his lips stretch in a wide grin and he looks very pleased with the confession. “Have you been stalking me, Robin?”

Robbe shrugs, a picture of innocence as he keeps peeking at him from under his lashes. “I might’ve seen a video or two. They’re all so thirsty for you in the comments though,” he adds, putting a note of faux-jealousy in his voice. He quickly noticed that Sander’s new uni friend is semi-popular on the app so his videos always get a fair share of comments. Ever since Sander appeared in them, the hoard of the guy’s fans has been declaring their love for Robbe’s boyfriend under every video. They mostly make him laugh, but sometimes he’ll roll his eyes at some of the raunchier ones, possessiveness that he didn’t know he had activating in his brain.

He waits for Sander’s cocky comment, but to his utter delight, he blushes deep red and scoffs.

“Shut up, it’s so embarrassing,” hiding his face in his hands, he adds, “All of my friends have been teasing me about it constantly.”

“Aww, poor you, being fawned over must be such a hardship, how do you cope?”

“Oh I don’t know, smartass, you can tell me from experience ‘cause I saw those comments under your old vlogs.” 

Robbe huffs a laugh. “They were nowhere near as detailed as yours!”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible,” Sander quips back and yeah, there he is, Robbe’s favorite (cocky) dork. “If I’d known you’re my TikTok fan, I’d have sent you those videos right away so you wouldn’t have to waste your time searching for them."

Robbe sighs. “They are a nice window to your life there,” he replies offhandedly, not even registering the implied double meaning to his words, but the immediate change in Sander’s amused expression makes him aware of the slip.

Fuck. 

“So you noticed. That I’ve been texting you less.”

Robbe drops his gaze, pulling the cover further up his body, feeling awkward again. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

Sander shifts on his bed, scratching at his head. “I felt like I was too much, you know? I wanted to share every silly thing with you, but then, well, it was something Josh said that I should,” he waves vaguely trying to find the right words, “cut back on my ‘running commentary’ ‘cause it’s probably annoying.”

“Tell Josh he’s stupid,” Robbe cuts in with a huff, grumpily beating his pillow into submission to make it more comfortable. 

The corners of Sander’s mouth twitch at his comment, but his face remains sheepish. “I think he was mostly joking, but it got stuck in my mind and made me question every message. In the end, I didn’t send like half of them,” he explains softly, voice colored with poorly hidden self-consciousness. “I didn’t want to give you the impression I don't have time for you, I’m sorry.”

And, fuck. They’re both idiots.

Sander’s brows shoot up when Robbe bursts into giggles out of the blue, clearly surprised with the reaction. But at this point, it feels like the only proper thing to do.

“So basically we could have avoided this whole bullshit if we just talk about all this sooner,” he groans at the realization, burying half on his face in his pillow to hide his heated face because he’s a little embarrassed he blew things out of proportion.

There’s a visible relief on Sander’s face too, eyes crinkling as he regards him with a dopey grin, and Robbe knows.

They’re gonna be fine. 

“Here I thought we were masters of communication,” Sander sighs with a faux-disappointment, leaning back to smile at the ceiling. “Fuck, no more of assuming shit, what do you think?”

And that sounds like something Robbe can get behind one hundred percent, more than ready to leave their misunderstandings in the past and just do better. So he nods, chin digging into his collarbone uncomfortably with the position he’s lying in, but it doesn’t matter, he’s too preoccupied with staring at his happy face and swimming in his fuzzy feelings.

“Prepare yourself for an onslaught of photos and messages, I’m not messing around,” Sander warns, smiling at Robbe’s soft okay. “You know, just a few days ago I ended up at Pebble Beach, it was cold as all fucks, but the view was just,” he imitates an explosion over his head and Robbe giggles at his childlike enthusiasm. Then, Sander’s face softens and becomes a little sad. “That place is so romantic that it made me feel like shit without you there,” he sighs, and Robbe can relate. “I’ll take you there one day.”

“You’re gonna take me to New York?” Robbe asks, doubt lacing his voice as he cocks his brow which makes Sander scoff in indignance.

“Hell yeah! You don’t believe me? What do you think I’m doing here everyday? I’m scouting the best places for dates, finding the best skateparks and checking out all the museums so I can be the perfect guide for you!” Sander throws his hands, a duh expression on his face, but there’s a wide smile brewing on his lips letting Robbe know he’s not really offended or anything. And, honestly, Robbe just melts with his words.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he sighs dreamily, rubbing his cheek against his pillow as he gazes at him with what he’s sure is the softest look. 

Sander narrows his eyes playfully from above the can of Redbull he’s been sipping on. “Don’t ever doubt I’m gonna go out of my way to impress you.” 

Robbe blows him a kiss that morphs into a huge yawn, eyelids growing heavy, forcing him to blink repeatedly to stay away which prompts Sander to tease him a little about boring him, but it quickly dies out and he’s just looking at him fondly.

“You should go to sleep.” He ignores Robbe’s melodic neeees, giving him a stern look that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but he looks too amused to keep it up. Once Robbe gets his promise they will see each other tomorrow, Sander sends him several virtual kisses and goodnights before logging off.

Robbe falls asleep with Sander’s beaming face flowing through his mind.

The sleep that comes is unsurprisingly the calmest he’s had in weeks.

 Sunday, 18:00

Sander: And?

Robbe: And what?

Sander: Was I right?

Robbe: About?

Sander: About your friends

Robbe: Kinda

Sander: So it means I was 😎

Robbe: :):):) yes

Sander: Thank you sander

Robbe: Thank you sander 

Sander: See, you're so precious everybody's in love with you and forgive you in seconds 

Robbe: 🙄 

Robbe: Precious srsly?

Sander: So precious 🥰

Robbe: Omg

Sander: Haha

Robbe: We're good 😊

Robbe: But I don't think they are in love with me 😂

Sander: They better not be 🤨 I'll fight them all! 🗡💀🧟🤺

Robbe: Dork ❤

Robbe: I think they a little bit in love with u though 🤔 

Robbe: They've been babbling all afternoon about how cute you are 🙄

Robbe: A g a i n *yawn*

Sander: They have good taste 🤷♂️

Robbe: Nah they just don't know your annoying habits so that's why

Sander: 😮 I don't have any how dare you badmouthing me like that

Robbe: 🥴

Robbe: You never wash your coffee cups right away so they lay around

Robbe: You always tickle me when you want sth

Robbe: You're full of corny jokes

Robbe: You eat my fries when I don't look 

Robbe: You hog the covers

Robbe: And I still remember that Wednesday when you ate my last bag of chips 💔

Sander: Okay first of all

Sander: Wow

Sander: Don't hold back 🥺

Sander: Second of all

Sander: I THOUGHT THOSE CHIPS WERE MILAN'S I TOLD YOU!!!

Robbe: That's what they all say 💔

Sander: You're unfair, I thought I made up for that lil mistake 🍆

Robbe: Well you did 🙈 but I still remember 😝

Sander: Also you love my jokes

Sander: They're awesome 🤧

Robbe: I'm just messing around 😘😘

Sander: 🥰

Robbe: But I swear to god if I have to listen one more time to Marie waxing lyricals about your 'perfect moles' I'm gonna 🤮

Sander: What haha 😂

Robbe: I mean they are but like

Robbe: Chill girl he's not your man 🤨

Sander: That's right cause I'm your man 😏

Robbe: And don't you forget that

Thursday, 3:48

Soft knuckles brush his skin, body arching into the touch that turns his muscles into jelly and sends liquid fire rushing through him. He’s overheated in the best way possible, seeking out Sander’s tongue, but the boy denies him access, smirk well in place as he pulls back, green eyes cloudy from lust. He’s staring at him like he wants to eat him whole and Robbe almost whimpers, bones melting and lids closing when Sander takes the tender flesh of his neck between his teeth and bites at it ever so gently, but just enough to make Robbe see stars. 

He sighs as he feels a ghost of touch on his nipple, Sander leaving a trail of kisses down his sternum as he’s moving so teasingly slow to his final destination, and he doesn’t even hesitate, spreading his legs wider around Sander’s hips in a blatant invitation, blushing hot pink when Sander sends him a fox-like grin, mouthing at his inner thigh.

The details get fuzzy for a few seconds, Robbe blinking rapidly to get his surroundings and finding himself on top of Sander, and there’s an inkling at the back of his brain telling him something’s messed up about the logistics here. He decides to ignore it, focusing back on the moment and Sander’s glistening, kiss-swollen lips, on his eyes transfixed on the place where they’re connected, and he leans down, his tongue sweeping over his Sander’s bottom lip before he starts pressing soft, spit-slick kisses into his mouth. He pushes Sander’s hands up over his head and intertwines their fingers, arching his back as he takes over, the rush of pleasure almost overwhelming him.

“Ohmygod, Sander,” Robbe breathes into his mouth. His hands are trailing all over Sander’s chest and stomach now, squeezing and rubbing almost like he’s his personal plaything.

It’s not long before Sander’s warm hands draw him back towards his chest, lips ghosting along Robbe’s, teasing, always teasing, but not granting permission to properly meet, making Robbe impatient and whine in desperation only for Sander to grin wickedly at him. He feels nails dragging along his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, stopping at his cheeks, massaging them to his heart content while Robbe can only pant, rocking back and forth and biting his bottom lip to keep from coming.

He’s an oversensitive, blissed out mess, trying to keep his eyes open to take a mental snapshot of Sander’s lust-blown pupils as they watch each other, Sander fucking him slowly and punching the prettiest sounds out of Robbe’s mouth.

Hips stuttering, he drops back down on his elbows to crash his lips against Sander’s, feeling his body tensing he’s so close and-

Eyes shot wide open, blinking harshly against the darkness of the room. His first instinct is to reach out to the other side of the bed, snuggle closer to the source of heat lying next to him, but his brain catches up with his hands quickly and he stops himself mid-reach, groaning as he flops back on the bed, disappointed. He kicks his covers down grumpily, letting cold air hit his overheated skin, frustrated and too awake to go to sleep now.

Fuck.

 Thursday, 13:08

*photo attached*

Sander: Good morning x

Robbe: Heeyy sleepyhead 😘

Robbe: You look cute

Sander: I had very interesting dreams last night 

Robbe: Oh yeah? 

Sander: Yeah I'm still affected by them 😏

Robbe: Stop it I'm at a coffee shop with the guys!

Sander: I'll have to tell you about it tonight then 😈

Robbe: Can't wait 😘

Sander: Today at 16 my time right? 

Robbe: Yep :) 

Robbe: You know

Sander: Hmm?

Robbe: I might have some of those dreams too last night

Sander: 🥵🥵🥵

Sander: Do tell

Robbe: 🙈

Sander: Now I’m super intrigued 😈

Robbe: How about I tell you tonight 

Robbe: With details

Robbe: Lots of them

Sander: Tonight can't come fast enough 😩

Sander: Looks like I will though 😏

Robbe: Omg you're such a dork 😂

Sander: Did it get u hot

Robbe: No wtf 😂

Sander: ☹🥺

Sander: Kay

Sander: I have to get up now

Sander: I'm late 🙄

Sander: Robin it's raining I don't wanna go out 😩

Robbe: Haha get your pretty ass out of bed and go be a good student!

Sander: Ugh fine 🙄

Sander: I love you ❤

Robbe: ❤

Sander: Hey no, not an emoji, tell me you love me ☹

Robbe: Haha

Sander: Come on

Robbe: 🤐

Sander: Robbe

Robbe: Gotta go 😌

Sander: Okay then 😔💔

Robbe: I love you too idiot ❤❤❤💯

Sander: Yesss 🥰

Sander: Hey that's my emoji 😏 so you like it after all

Robbe: 😂 go to class!!! 

Sander: I'm going I'm going

Friday, 19:00

Robbe checks his phone for time again, not wanting to be late for his call with Sander, but there’s still about half an hour until he should get going. It’s been a pleasant evening and a while ago he would have never called any time of the day spent with his father ‘pleasant’, but there he is. Enjoying his dinner not only with him but also with his girlfriend of six months that he met in July when the first attempts to salvage the relationship with his dad have been made. 

And it’s all because of Sander. The fact that he’s even here speaks volumes about his skill of persuasion. If it hadn’t been for his boyfriend, Robbe would have continued to stew in his own juices and ignored his dad. 

“How is Sander doing? New York is a jungle.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “He’s good, he fits in well in the city vibe. But, um, he needs to stay a bit longer, till February actually ‘cause the school postponed the art show.”

He goes for another bite, frown on his face at the mere reminder of the change of plans. 

“You probably hate it, huh?” his father questions. 

His only response is to throw him a duuuh look, making his dad snort.

“You should visit him.”

Robbe looks up from over his spaghetti, expecting to see his dad laughing or winking at him, but both him and Margaux are looking at him with unsuspecting smiles, like the suggestion is the most obvious thing in the world.

He exhales a short dad in a laugh, glancing at them back and forth. “I don’t have a spare several thousand euros lying around waiting to be spent on a trip to New York,” he explains, slight exasperation in his voice. 

“Oh I don’t think you’d need that much, Robbe,” Margaux smiles at him as she puts away her fork and reaches for her phone. “A few months ago I was actually backpacking with my friend through the East Coast and, wait, let me check, I have everything saved on my AirBnB account.”

Robbe gets back to his dinner as she scrolls on her phone, trying to squish the building hope in his chest away because even if it’s cheaper than he thinks, there’s still no way he can afford it; his equipment and books for school have eaten all of his savings.

“There it is! Look,” she scoots her chair closer to him, his dad peeking at the phone from the other side. “We stayed in Brooklyn for 98$ a day for a double bed, in Bedford to be exact and the conditions were really nice, plus the train station was close by. I’m sure you could find something half as cheap since it’s just you and the room can be tiny, just to sleep really.”

“That’s a reasonable price, I think,” his dad joins in, and then proceeds to ask her questions about her other expenditures while in the city and the flight prices, debating whether it’s better to drive to Frankfurt and take a direct flight from there or maybe decide on a layover flight from Brussels. 

They are so into the planning and discussing the best options that they both jump slightly when Robbe speaks again, clearly forgetting he’s sitting right next to them, a picture of confusion. 

“Guys, guys, wait. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1500 euros, or even 1000 euros because that’s still a 1000 euros more than I have to spend on a trip anywhere.” 

His dad is so enthralled into checking different flights that he barely raises his head from above his phone, replying offhandedly, “I’ll pay for it.”

And, okay, no. Robbe gapes at him like he grew two heads, spluttering, because hell no.

“No way, I won’t take your money, dad.”

His vehement tone finally makes his father properly regard him and he sighs after a second. “Robbe, please don’t treat it as an attempt to buy you or your feelings.”

Straight to the point, his dad, always has been. It definitely is one the reasons for his refusal, but it’s not only that.

Robbe takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look, dad, it’s still lots of money. I can’t-”

“I’m many things, but irresponsible with money I’m definitely not. So if I say that I can pay for it, it means that I can afford it and it won’t affect me.” He gives him a pointed look. Before Robbe can argue again, he continues. “We can treat it as your Christmas gift. And next year’s birthday gift. And last two Christmases gifts as well.”

Robbe thinks about the packages he received from his father those holidays, and how he sent them back without even opening. Then, it definitely felt like buying his affection.

“You’ve been doing good at school, got into the university you wanted, you’ve been more responsible those last few years that I could’ve ever asked from you. Then you worked during the summer because you were adamant about paying for school stuff yourself. I think you earn it, Robbe. If you don’t want to go for other reasons, then that’s fine, but if it’s just about the money, please let me give you this.”

“New York is the kind of place everyone should visit at least one,” Margaux says gently. She has a warm smile that immediately made Robbe like her, despite really trying not to for obvious reasons. “And I think Sander would love for you to come visit too.”

Robbe has been torn before she spoke, but the mention of Sander reminds him of their videocall a while back, Sander telling him about places he was going to show him one day, being his guide and taking him to his favorite spots in the city. He can see it all vividly now when the opportunity is at his fingertips, can’t stop the excitement filling his body at the thought of seeing Sander before that dreadful February, even though he’s still now sure what to do.

While he’s been lost in his thoughts, trying to come to some conclusion, Margaux has been typing away at her phone. “Dates around Christmas are very expensive, but what would you say about, let’s say, December 8th? Til December 17th?”

Robbe wouldn’t even consider Christmas because there’s no way he would leave his mom alone for the holidays, but… the dates Margaux offered seem kinda perfect. His main project is due on December 4th so he wouldn’t have to worry about that and it’d be fine if he missed classes for those several days. Completely unaware, he finds himself making plans in his head before he even made a decision to accept his father’s money, but when his eyes snap to his dad’s, the small smile he gives him lets him know he already knows Robbe’s answer.

 December 7th, 22:00

His excitement has been uncontainable the entire day, making him so giddy he had to cancel his regular call with Sander because his boyfriend would figure him out in seconds. And that’s the last thing he wants. 

He’s still in shock that he somehow managed to keep it from him, planning a surprise in his head ever since he agreed to his dad’s help and working extra hard at uni to afford missing those 8 days of school. There’s apparently been one close call when Younes almost spilled the beans to Sander during their Zoom, but thank god for Yasmina who managed to effortlessly salvage the secret, improvising and coming up with an easy lie, leaving him unsuspicious of any ploy going on.

And Robbe just. He just can’t wait. He’s been counting hours since last week, his lips yearning to be kissed by his favorite person, body pining for touch and caress. 

Lost in the dreams of their reunion, Robbe’s startled by a ping from his phone, lips stretching in a wide smile when he sees a notification from Sander’s instagram. He opens it, curious, melting when he’s greeted with a graffiti sign saying ENKEL LIEFDE, Sander’s style easily recognizable to him. Underneath, there’s a heart and his own handle and that shit never fails to make Robbe heart stutter. There’s a DM from Sander waiting for him as well, the same photo, but Sander’s caption says The High Line needed its own version of my love declaration for you, but unfortunately I couldn’t find enough space for a redo of your gorgeous face Robin :( So I did this :) You like it?

He replies with a bunch of red hearts, likes the post and adds another heart in a comment because there’s never too many of those. Then he flops back on his bed, a smile glued to his face.

Nineteen hours.

[strwberrytae]

So Long, Farewell, and Goodbye For Now -

“I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place, some other existence.”     - Lang Leav

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Hello, You ♡ Yes, You. You ethereal, beautiful being. I am writing to you with bittersweet yet wonderful news - depending on the perspective. I am writing this post to inform all of you that I will no longer be writing for this blog for the foreseeable future. What I mean by that is that I am not giving up writing forever, no. But my life has changed so much over the last two years, I do not see myself writing again for quite some time. But don’t worry! I will be back!

Below the Read More section, I have poured my heart and soul into the real reasons why I’ve made this decision. I warn you, it’s lengthy but it’s everything that has led up to this over the years. So, if you fancy, have a read. If not, I bid you farewell and wish you all the happiness in the world. Thank you for supporting me so far. I truly appreciate it and love you all very dearly. Now, if you wish to read it at a later time, I will have a link available on my page at all times for anyone who is curious. It’s a hell of a story if you ask me ~

Edit: Made by Me - also, a surprise photo at the end Warnings/Triggers: Talks of emotional abuse, depression, and suicide but also happiness and love -

When I first started this blog, it was 2016. I had been on Tumblr for over a decade now but BTS led me to writing passionately for 2 years. I was incredibly active and utterly consumed by this website. Not just for the writing, but I was so obsessed because of my friends and mutuals that I made along the way. Can I just say that I’ve met some incredible people on this platform - including my best friend and soulmate? Truthfully, the absolute best friend I have ever had. But more importantly, Tumblr was my greatest escape. I mean this website truly has been my saving grace through very dark times.

In that part of my life, I was in an extremely toxic relationship; by then, it was 6 years I was with him. He was emotionally abusive, had such a short-fuse temper, hated everyone I knew which led me never really seeing any of my friends after college, knew I was anorexic and did nothing to stop me, knew I had depression since we started dating and always argued it as if it wasn’t real, crushed my dreams and ambitions, mocked potential suicide attempts, expected me to just abandon all hope to ever leave home to explore someplace new or get a job that I actually love. He was...just the worst. Never hit me though, so I’m grateful for that. But sometimes I wish he would so it would have given me the voice I needed to get out of that relationship much sooner than I did. But regardless, because of him plus having a soul-sucking job that wore me down to the core, Tumblr was my escape. BTS was my escape.

I fell hard and I fell deep. I created a fantasy world within this world. All of my dreams, fantasies, desires, and hopes were poured into my writing. My imagination was running wild. My activity was through the roof because I was always on here day in and out, just pretending like the outside world didn’t exist. It consumed me...but I needed it. Looking back, it was pretty excessive. At the time, I seemed perfectly normal because everyone else was just as active and saying the same things and doing the same things. I felt a belonging, like I fit in.

But I hated the person I became. It took me getting yelled at, mocked, ridiculed, and belittled by my ex to snap me out of that illusion I built and back into reality. That was the roughest night that we had filled with lots of screaming on his end and crying on my part. He thought my obsession was sick. He thought it was disgusting. It all started because he found fake texts I had made with Jimin and Tae. Don’t recall the story it was a part of but he thought they were texts with the actual members… In my eyes, I should get credit for making them look so legit but he didn’t see it that way. He thought fangirling over men was essentially cheating. No matter how hard I tried to explain, he didn’t understand. But a part of his view was right. I learned that I was a bit too much into it and I really needed to take a step back from Tumblr for a while. So I did. I deactivated my account and disappeared for months. Also because he made me and threatened our relationship if I didn’t. Should have taken the out but ah well.

Just two months prior to this incident, I attempted suicide. Well, contemplated. Everything was planned out. Bought a hotel room for Thanksgiving night as I was working a super late shift until about 1-2am. My commute home was an hour long and I still had to come back to work at 7am. So I got a room. Brought a large amount of pills with me and I was going to call it. No notes written to friends, family, or loved ones. Nothing. I was done. Didn’t think anyone would miss me. I just figured the world would keep turning without me. I had thought about doing this several times before but this was my first time making plans for it. It was my lowest of the low. But then I met someone that night that changed my life entirely just in a 10 minute interaction of talking - nothing special. We’ll get to that later. But this person just gave me hope and to this day, I still can’t explain it. It was euphoric. I felt clarity. It was in that night that I thought I might hold out just a little bit longer.

And thus @strwberrytae was born - but it was far from the same. At first, I restarted the blog in secret. Why would I do this? Why would a 25 year old open a blog in secret? Well, two months after the awful fight, my ex proposed to me and I said yes. I know. Believe me, I know. I was scared. My depression was getting worse again. I no longer had an escape except for books. All I did was read so I had some sort of reality to be in besides my own. But returning to a brand new blog did not give the same satisfaction as returning to an old blog.

I worked so hard on my first blog and this redo, I tried to consider it as a gift. Perhaps this was a chance to start anew and rebrand myself. This optimism kept up for quite some time. Slowly, I added my favorite past works then added some new chapters. If you’ve been here with me since 2017, you would know that my appearance on Tumblr was still not the same. Then I got married in October.

An empty, loveless marriage that I regret to this day. Needless to say, my writing and activity on Tumblr was still practically non-existent as I was still too scared of getting caught. Even though he finally gave me permission to use it again because he could tell how miserable it was making me. Yes, gave me permission. Thankfully, it all ended after a year. I finally went to a therapist even though I hated them so much and all past therapists I had. She was pretty great. Within five sessions, I summoned the courage to break up with this guy. I was finally set free. Nearly 9 years together and I finally felt like I could breathe.

Unfortunately, although I was free, I had to live with the guy for about 5 months after the breakup. Which was beyond rough, believe me. Imagine someone writhing in pain and bawling their eyes out and venting non-stop about all of their faults and wrongdoings every single day. At the end of the day, as shitty as he was to me, he was my best friend too. We went through a lot of shit together and he did have some good sides to him too. So witnessing this was horrendous. Needless to say, I wasn’t getting much privacy either. Writing was not my top priority. Now it’s 2019 and things changed drastically for the better - and worst.

Remember the person I met in 2016 on Thanksgiving night? Well, that person is someone I crushed on every since that night. For 2 years. People, I’m telling you. He did absolutely nothing special that night. He didn’t flirt with me. He didn’t check me out. He didn’t do anything remotely to make a girl swoon but I was so drawn to him. The only word that could describe it was “cosmic” - beautifully cosmic. 

Well in January 2019, 2 months following my break up, he came into my store one day. And my god did he look incredible. He was dressed head to toe in black - a fitted black suit at that. He even wore this long, designer jacket to match. Hair shaved on the sides with beautiful, thick dark hair on top. So tall - 182cm. A smile that could kill; quite literally. The canines are on point. He looked like a five course meal. That day, he definitely flirted with me. By the end of the week, we had our first date. Sadly, I also lost my job in the same week and was unemployed for a year because no one would hire me. I was laid off and one of my seniors took my job. Of course, they needed to keep me around for the holidays and then give me the boot. I was devastated. I hated that job so much as it only aided in fueling my depression but losing it was definitely an amazing thing. And! I survived on my savings and definitely didn’t spend my time writing. I had life to sort out last year - like from the ground up. No worries though. I got a job in February 2020 and I love it, so it’s all good, baby. Now I’m in the health field and feel like I’m actually helping people, which I love.

Now, here we are 2 years later and I’m engaged to the man.  Someone who makes me smile everyday, believes in me, encourages me, let’s me be 100% myself, travels with me, taught me how to love myself, taught me to accept my body, gets me on a level that only my best friend could, and someone who goes above and beyond every single day to show me how much he loves me. Bonus, he welcomes my love for BTS with open arms, reads my writing, AND has even been sucked in himself to the fandom. Jungkook and Jimin, look out. You got another fanboy. I thought true love was impossible for me but I was very, very wrong.

He has shown me that I can be happy and I have finally experienced true happiness. When people ask how I’m doing, I don’t cringe and lie through my teeth. I smile and say that I am doing well because by George, I am. Everyone around me has seen me over the last two years and made the comment, “you look so much happier”. They meet him and swoon just as much as I do. Is he perfect? No, he’s not. He has flaws just like everyone else but he actually grows and learns from his mistakes to better himself. That’s what amazes me the most. Even if we argue, which is seldom, he refuses to let it go without resolution so we can always fix whatever the issue is. As we like to call it, we’re in-sync. In everything, we’re always so in-sync. I’m wildly in love, my dudes.

So, why am I not writing anymore? To put it simply, I’m happy and don’t really feel the desire to write anymore - at least not fanfiction. Even when I was super young, like elementary school, I used writing as an outlet for my dark escape. I wrote poetry primarily and by middle school, it turned to fanfiction for Supernatural, Simple Plan, and Panic! At The Disco. Along with a very long list of other bands and shows but anyways. I’ve been severely depressed since I was 15 and fanfiction put me in this hole that I couldn’t get out of. I relied on this method to help me get through all the bad shit I was dealing with. It was my coping mechanism.

Now? While depression never truly goes away as the lovely disease that it is, I am genuinely happy. Because of this, when I opened all of my past works and works in progress, I felt nothing but guilt. Guilt for not keeping up with my chapters or keeping my account active. I felt dread to have to escape in this world that I had created. I felt no joy or excitement. It was the strangest feeling that happened all in a matter of seconds. Thus leading to my final decision to take a step away from writing. Do I still love it? Absolutely. But now I think I’m going to re-route and focus my writing on what I love - reality. I’m going to get back into journaling and write essays about love and beauty as I’ve always loved to do. But for escaping into a fantasy world? I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Now I know what you’re thinking. “But you can write and be happy!” Nah fam. Writing has been my aid through dark times and now I mostly associate it with those dark times. And for once in my life, I feel this desire to enjoy reality and remain in it - with the exception of journaling here and there. Even daydreaming is difficult. It’s strange. I love my reality. This sounds like gloating now but it’s truly a remarkable feeling. When you’ve been battling depression for 15 years, it feels really freaking nice to say that I’m happy.

So that’s why I’m taking a break - in a very long, drawn out way. But my hope was that after this long story, you might understand truly why I am doing this. It would have been easier to just say that writing doesn’t bring me joy anymore but I feel that I owe more than that; especially because I really don’t know if I’ll write for this blog ever again. The last time I took a break, I disappeared without being able to explain myself and I wanted to do so now that I have the chance.

Ultimately, thank you to everyone who has stuck by me over the years. It’s truly been one hell of a rollercoaster. The friends I’ve made on here have seen me at my lowest of the lows. But hey! I’ll still be around. I just won’t be publishing or continuing any of my works anywhere in the near future. Seriously though. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This website has helped me tremendously and I’ll never forget it. Besides, there’s lots of other exciting things happening in my life now so you’ll certainly see me pop in here and there to talk about it ♡

If you wish, you can message me for questions or anything you want to know. I’m an open book - at least about most things hehe. And don’t worry. I still very much love Taehyung and still wildly obsessing over how marvelous he is. Umf.

(here’s some recent photos of me as i rarely take selfies anymore haha. and a derp photo of me and the man i love >_< why is the cutest photo of him with the worst photo of me? still cute though hehe)

[amphtaminedreams]

Farewell to Spooky Season, AHS Style: Lookbook no.12

Hi to anyone reading,

Happy belated Halloween!

I capitalise it because if I'm gonna recognise any day as sacred, it’s the spookiest one of the year! Halloween 2020 obviously hasn’t been as exciting as usual, parties and club nights being banned has meant there’s been far less opportunities to dress up, but I still managed to get out for the night before they announced the upcoming second lockdown and do a couple of spooky movie nights (and carve a pumpkin!)!

I originally intended for this lookbook to be last minute halloween costume inspo but I was lazy and didn’t manage to get it out on time-a lot of these looks minus the makeup and maybe an accessory or two could work on any day or night out so I thought I’d go ahead and post it now anyway. Celebrating the fashion moments of American Horror Story is something I’ve wanted to do for a while; it’s probably not the first show you’d think of for sartorial inspiration but Mr. Ryan Murphy has fucking fantastic taste in stylists and the first five seasons of AHS in particular, which I’ll be focussing on in this post, have given us SO many amazing looks. The man may be guilty of many things-subjecting us to the character of Will Schuester, trying to turn Richard Ramirez into a thirst trap, embarrassing everyone who raved about how good Scream Queens was when he wrote season 2-but costume related laziness is not one of them. We see more consistency in a Ryan Murphy character’s wardrobe than we do in their story arcs and I respect that because honestly, as much as I love joining in when it comes to ripping into his ability to cohesively bring an AHS season to a close when it airs, I’d probably be the same; if you put Lady Gaga in front of me and told me to write her lines I’d probably end up getting overly invested in what her character was going to be wearing in the scene too. 

So! Enough Ryan Murphy bashing from me! I’ll get on with it! Starting with 3 season 1 inspired looks:

Murder House: Elizabeth Short, Tate Langdon and Violet Harmon

-striped jumper from caitlinlark on Depop, kick flare jeans from ellagray-

When it comes to reflecting on season 1 of American Horror Story, all I can say do is thank the internet overlords that Tumblr has moved on from the romanticising school shooters and wearing normal people scare me tops phase to instead collectively taking the piss out of the “GO AWAY, TATE!”, “YOU’RE ALL THAT I WANTTT! YOU’RE ALL THAT I HAVEEE!” exchange. 

In terms of fashion *moments*, whilst season 1 doesn’t stand out as much as the seasons that come after, Violet and Tate’s wardrobes did give birth to a bit of a 90s grunge renaissance with their oversized knits and faded jeans and layering of textures. It did also give us good costumes in the form of Alexandra Breckenridge’s Moira O’Hara and Mena Suvari’s portrayal of the Black Dahlia, Elizabeth Short; unfortunately, I didn’t have a slutty maid costume lying around so I did the best I could at giving the outfit Elizabeth wears when she makes that fateful visit to the Murder House a modern, more party appropriate update.

In terms of season rankings, Murder House isn’t my favourite. It starts off really great but lulls a bit towards the end and I could never get behind Violet and Tate as a couple because you know, one of them is a school shooter who sexually assaults the other’s mum, and that’s a hurdle that I think most couples might struggle to get over irl. That being said, it was the season that started it all and showcased some of the most innovative writing and directing on TV, and it opened up a spot for horror on primetime television which as far as I know was kind of unheard of before then. Back when I first watched it, I had no idea what to expect not only because I’d never seen horror in a serial format but also because it seemed to be able to get away with the kind of storylines you’d expect network executives to fire people over. It introduced us to Jessica Lange and Sarah Paulson and Evan Peters and Denis O’Hare who would go on to make the show what it is today and more importantly, through Jessica’s glorious portrayal of Constance Langdon, provide us with an endlessly versatile meme format for this trying time.

Asylum: ‘60s Lana Winters, ‘70s Lana Winters, and Sister Mary Eunice McKee

-afghan coat from louisemarcella on Depop, red AA skater dress from julietramage, pink gingham co-ord from zshamim-

I think we can all agree: Asylum would’ve been a perfect series of television if it wasn’t for the completely unnecessary alien storyline. Like, I get that they fit in with the whole good vs. evil theme as a kind of non-biblical alternative to the idea of a higher, all-powerful being but there was already so much going on that it just wasn’t needed. Aside from that, I think the general consensus amongst watchers of the show is that Asylum has the best writing of any season and I think I’d tend to agree. It’s not my favourite because it’s too depressing to rewatch but if we’re talking the first time round, this is the series that had me hooked. Lana Winters?

Iconic. 

Sister Mary Eunice? Iconic. The Name Game? Iconic. Remember when you couldn’t go a day on Facebook without seeing that one photo of Naomi Grossman as Pepper used as the go to “what I really look like” photo in one of those “expectation vs. reality” style posts on your newsfeed? Those were simpler times.

Because this season was mostly situated within the hospital, we didn’t get that many proper outfits but when we did, they were stunning; if I had to state my absolute favourite AHS character of the entire show I’d probably go with Lana Winters and the part her wardrobe played in her characterisation would 100% play a part in that. The late 60s/early 70s was such a wonderful period for fashion and through her character we get to see both of those explored a little. Of course there’s also *that* Sister Mary Eunice scene with the red slip dress and suspenders too which yes, could be a perfect halloween costume, but I also strongly believe should be a perfectly acceptable outfit for any day of the year. 

Coven: Misty Day, Madison Montgomery, and Zoe Benson

-chiffon dress from rags_to_riches on Depop, pinstripe corset from hanpiercey, and tennis skirt from mollie_morton-

I hate to be a basic bitch but I have to say it: Coven is my favourite season of American Horror Story. Once you get over the complete waste of Evan Peters’ acting capabilities that resulted from the *choice* to have him play Kyle, the unnecessary rehash of the Evan/Taissa pairing from season 1 in what I can only assume was an attempt to capitalise on the popularity of the questionable Tate/Violet relationship, and the subsequent sacrifice of any interesting character arc we could’ve foreseen for Zoe Benson beyond her obsessing over a resurrected, non-verbal frat boy, it’s a perfect season. A supreme (heh) balance of horror, humour, and character drama, as well as the stunning aesthetics and forever quotable dialogue, make it my go-to season if I’m ever considering a rewatch. And if you disagree, let me jog your memory with the most mainstream (not to get all “normal people scare me” and suggest AHS is not a mainstream show, I literally just mean in the sense that even those who have never watched the show will have seen this)  reaction GIF set any FX show has even spawned:

Buzzfeed employees had a field day, Emma Roberts enthusiasts (I mean me) finally saw her cemented as the pop culture icon Scream Queens has since showed us she deserves to be (because not enough people have seen Unfabulous, Nancy Drew or Scream 4) and the gays everywhere rejoiced at the year’s worth of meme fodder they’d been provided with. It was Madison Montgomery’s world and we were truly just living in it.

And the fashion! I mean, Stevie Nicks meets 21st century teenage witches! Come on! 

Freakshow: Dandy Mott, Maggie Esmerelda and Elsa Mars

-olive green satin skirt from morganogle on Depop, headscarf from tonijordan, platform sandals from elliefewt, PVC skirt from bethpin_, corset top from sadieflinter, beret from house_of_erotique, flame detail platform boots from mad_rags_vintage-

When people talk about the declining quality of AHS, they usually point to Freakshow as the beginning of the end, but I have to completely disagree. I wasn’t a fan the first time round but on rewatch it’s probably the most emotional season of them all; no, there aren’t as many “horrifying” moments as in other seasons and Elsa is probably Jessica’s worst performance (which is still an incredible one by anybody else’s standards), however it makes up for it with the most sympathetic bunch of characters yet, and on the flip side, also one of the most amusingly depraved with Finn Wittrock’s Dandy Mott. Fans usually argue that the season went downhill once *SPOILER* Twisty the Clown was killed off but for me, he really primarily served as the catalyst for the far more interesting devolution of Dandy, who, imo, is the show’s strongest villain to date, rivalled only by Bloody Face. Then there was the episode Orphans too which made me cry buckets, the sole AHS episode to do so. 

We got a lot of great fashion content in this season too: the theatrical opulence of Elsa Mars’ wardrobe, “Maggie”’s nomadic fortune teller costumes, and all those twee suits we saw Finn Wittrock in. Highly underrated if you ask me. It seems an odd choice for me to use Elsa’s Dominatrix look as an inspiration for one of my looks here when we have that Life on Mars performance outfit and all the extravagant robes Jessica got to waltz around in for reference buuuut I didn’t really have anything to do the vibrancy of either of those justice so I went with the black leather option which is much more me. Am I saying I moonlight as a dominatrix? Maybe. Lol, no. I wish. It’s not for lack of trying. WHERE ARE ALL THE GENUINE TWITTER PAYPIGS AT!? Your girl wants to insult creepy men and get some new clothes out of it xoxo

Hotel: Hypodermic Sally, Liz Taylor, and The Countess

-silk white bralet from xlibby_maix on Depop-

Hotel is another season that I liked a lottttt more upon rewatch, once I knew I was okay to tune out the (completely predictable and utterly nonsensical) Ten Commandments Killer storyline that so much of the season initially seems to hinge on. I love Chloë Sevigny but the fact that her and Wes Bentley’s wooden John and Alex Lowe are positioned as the protagonists at the expense of the far more interesting Liz Taylor, James March and Hypodermic Sally really does a disservice to what is an otherwise great season upon initial viewing.

The visuals this season are magnificent and I think if I had to pick one character’s wardrobe to steal from the entire cast of AHS characters, it would be The Countess (a toss up between her and Misty Day tbh, so I kinda just settle for low-key channelling both). No fucking idea where I'd wear any of her clothes to but I’d make it work. Liz Taylor and Hypodermic Sally have some amazing looks too-there’s just honestly so much to choose from; that being said, this post wouldn’t be complete without a specific ode to the vampire goddess Elizabeth Bathory, who is everything I want to be in life minus the murderous qualities:

Everything. EVER-Y-THING. LOOK AT HER!

Lady Gaga is really a fucking goddess isn’t she. And people were claiming before they’d even seen it that she couldn’t act? A patriarchal society doesn’t like women that can do it all. Just saying. 

Anyways!

That’s it for now! I hope you enjoyed the post if you did read til the end! Sorry I couldn’t get this out before Halloween, I was typing and Picmonkey-ing madly from 2 in the afternoon on the 31st but I taking fucking forever to get ready and had to abandon all hope of getting it out on the day by 4PM. I’ve got so much content planned and it sucks because a couple of them are lookbooks which now feel completely redundant given we’re heading into a second lockdown, but maybe I should just do it anyway? The grunge inspired moodboard I just did seemed to get a good reception too so I’ve got some more of them planned. 

As always, hope everyone is keeping well, and feel free to inbox me with any suggestions, queries or even just to say hi if you need someone to talk to! I check here quite a lot so I should see it. Lots of love to everyone in this time!

Lauren x

[alexseanchai]

Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s  “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder​; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami​

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

[foxymoxynoona]

Amended Ch. 2

Read Chapter 1 here

SUMMARY: Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella's return home. She sure doesn't expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?

Police officer! Jungkook x Single Mom Childhood Friend Named OC

CW: abusive parents, alcoholism, abusive exes, descriptions of childhood abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse, illegal acts, side character death, discussions/references to underage sexual activity/alcohol use/drug use, teen pregnancy, explicit sexual content

Also hosted on AO3 under foxymoxy. Not sure if I’ll keep posting on tumblr or not, but I thought I’d try it out!

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The morning had not been going well. At all.

The kids had overslept. 

Ok, maybe Isabella had overslept too.

Grandma had not overslept but had been in a bit of a mental fog, so Isabella had plied her with bananas and water as suggested by the nurses, while running around frantically to get the kids’ things pulled together. While they dawdled, of course, as if they had nowhere in the world to be. They couldn’t find their socks. They didn’t want frozen waffles for breakfast. They didn’t want to go to their first days of school, they wanted to just watch cartoons while Isabella struggled to be a morning person like most days.

But she’d done it, she got them dressed and fed and out the door, only having to double back for forgotten bags once. And while it was a whirlwind drop off at two different schools, she made it, and made it home just as Grandma was finishing her morning coffee and ready for a lift to her bible study, and just in time to shower to get dressed for her first day of work.

Except she’d underestimated how far the bible study was, and realized as soon as Grandma was shuffled inside that she was going to be late. For her first day of work. So she booked it into high gear…

And it landed her here. Pulled over to the side of the road with the cop car lights flashing through the back windshield. She let out an angry groan and let her head rest against the steering wheel. Now she would definitely be late.

A knock on her window got her to look up, only to huff, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” She cranked her window down, actions snappish and pissy, as Jungkook waited with raised eyebrows and a narrow stare.

“Isabella.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she sighed again, in case he hadn’t heard her earlier.

“That’s my question,” he said. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?”

“Thirty.”

“Bullshit,” he snorted.

“Do you know how fast I was going?”

He glared and answered, “Fifty-four in a thirty.”

“Not me, officer.”

“Isabella--”

“I’d like to see your radar gun readout and a clear photo of--”

“Isabella,” he sighed and made an exasperated noise. 

“There was another car going much faster than me, probably you picked that one up.”

“Used to arguing your way out of tickets, huh?”

“I doubt the other way out of tickets would work with you.”

“Oh? And what would that be? Maybe… not speeding and earning them in the first place?” he suggested. And he just looked so fucking smug. 

She gave him an equally smug grin and prompted, “Radar read out and dashboard cam, please.”

“License and registration, please.”

“Jungkook,” she grunted. “I’m late for work. It’s my first day.”

“Work, huh? Where’s that.”

“Target. Ever been? There’s a pharmacy, they have vaseline that could help you get that stick out of your--”

He sighed and rested his hands on the window frame, “Isabella. Why are you antagonizing me? I’m a cop. You’re speeding.”

“You are a cop, but I was not speeding.”

“Goddamn you are as infuriating as you were in high school.”

“Look,” she sighed, deciding to try a different tactic. “Fine, you want to try the other way? There’s a gas station up ahead, behind the dumpster there aren’t cameras. My backseat has a kid booster but you can probably turn your car cam off, right?”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, pushing away from her car and scratching at his hair. “Can you stop trying to bribe your way out of a ticket?!”

“Oh. So you admit that sounds like an appealing bribe? I just meant it as a friendly offer but--”

“Ok, look. I’m going to let you off with a warning this one time. Do you hear me?” 

Isabella bit her tongue so as not to point out that she vaguely thought she recalled him telling her the other night it was her one warning. Instead she made her eyes very big and nodded.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Officer, sir.”

“Just because if I give you a ticket I have to stand here and deal with you for fifteen more minutes.”

“I am so grateful--”

“But look, slow down, ok? You’re going to hit someone and this tin can you’re driving isn’t going to protect you. You can’t show up here and just break the law when you feel like it.” 

She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. That was rich, real rich coming from a delinquent she’d covered for plenty of times. Probably he knew that, because he arched his eyebrow and waited, as if to see if she could resist. She lifted her chin and set her jaw and held it in. He watched her a moment longer.

“Have a nice day, ma’am. Take it easy.” He patted the roof of her car like a true and genuine police asshole, and sauntered back to his vehicle. Isabella cranked up her window.

“You fucker, you definitely didn’t actually have me on radar and how dare you preach at me about--”

The siren blipped once, cutting off her monologue. She glared at him through the rearview mirror and quickly pulled away, waiting until she’d lost him behind a turn to take off again, in an attempt to make up for lost time and not lose her job on the first fucking day.

It wasn’t until she parked she realized she’d forgotten to take her wallet out of one of the kids’ backpacks before dropping them off.

---------------------

Isabella’s legs hurt. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. She was too tired for this. She kept glancing at the clock, but there were hours left in her shift still. Ezra and Lily would have arrived at afterschool care by now. The nurse would have picked up Grandma from bible study long ago. Everyone was fine. But she was tired and desperate for coffee and didn’t have a break coming up any time soon.

She plastered on a smile, ringing up the woman in her line, but the woman was on her phone and not paying attention anyway so she let it slide away. The woman bought razors, deodorant, several bottles of wine, a carton of Goldfish, and a box of tampons. Isabella rang everything up, turned the bags on the carousel so the woman could loop them over the hand holding her car keys, and held the receipt out. 

“Have a nice day,” she said.

“Uh huh,” the woman nodded and walked away, flicking her hand a little like Isabella was a gnat. 

She hadn’t looked at the next person in line yet, just reached for the bag of shrimp chips and then immediately froze.

“Are you fucking--” She looked up as she spoke, knowing instinctively it was Jungkook, but trailed off upon finding him holding a little girl. He raised his eyes and gave her a crooked grin.

“What was that?” he asked. The little girl stared at her with similar wide eyes.

“Uh… are you following me?” she asked, deciding to ignore his look. “I told you where I work. Are you checking up on me?!”

He gave her a teasing glare, “Are you always this paranoid?” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t card that woman.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me right now? She was clearly over 21.”

“I don’t know,” he tsked, looking after the woman. “White people, it’s hard to tell your ages.”

Isabella licked her lips in annoyance to keep from saying worse, and then smiled at the little girl, “Your dad is a real charmer, huh?”

The girl’s face instantly screwed up and she argued, “He’s not my dad, he’s my uncle!”

“Ah. Oh!” Before she could even ask, Jungkook’s older sister set one final thing on the belt, then did a double take.

“Isabella!” she greeted. “Hello!”

“Um, hi Youngsoon.” Isabella immediately blushed. Youngsoon was even more beautiful than she’d been as a young adult. Youngsoon had always been so beautiful and cool. Isabella had spent a lot of years lamenting she couldn’t be a beautiful Korean woman like her, certain Jungkook’s older sister belonged in the movies. Embarrassed, she quickly began scanning items.

“Jungkook didn’t mention you were back in town. How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered reflexively, only glancing up. She did not appreciate the smug grin Jungkook still had. What did he have to be smug about? She glared at him.

“She thought Uncle Gukka was my dad,” the little girl giggled, flinging her arms around Uncle Gukka’s neck. 

“Yuck,” Jungkook teased, scrunching her face up at her. To be fair, the little girl was clearly a Jeon. But it made sense that she was a baby Youngsoon; she was beautiful, just like her mother, not goobery like Jungkook… well, like he had been when they were younger, anyway...

“Sora, this woman is an old friend of Uncle Gukka’s,” Youngsoon said with a smile. “She was Uncle Gukka’s very first friend in America.”

“Your first friend was a girl?” Sora asked with surprise.

Jungkook gave her a serious look and said, “I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Hey,” Isabella glared. But she didn’t stop scanning items, in a hurry to finish up so they could go away. She was very nervous now having Jungkook and Youngsoon both here. Jungkook she didn’t mind aggravating but seeing Youngsoon left her feeling… insignificant.

But Youngsoon, perfectly at ease chatting, continued, “Have you moved back permanently?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’re here with my grandmother right now. I just-- it was easy to transfer to the store since I already work at Target, so I’m just picking up some shifts…” God, it was mortifying. Mortifying. Not only was she standing there scanning their items in her stupid khakis and red polo shirt, but talking about picking up shifts… Youngsoon had been in medical school back then. And now Jungkook was a cop. 

“We?”

“Oh, um… me and my children.”

“Oh! How old are you children?” Youngsoon continued. “I have two --Sora here is--”

“I’m five,” Sora announced.

“Five,” Youngsoon finished with a fond smile. “And I have a two year old boy.” The last item had been rung up and placed in the bag and Isabella had succeeded in not looking at Jungkook for several minutes now; even when Sora had spoken and she’d reflexively look at the little girl, she’d managed to blur his face from view. Gukka’s very first friend in America. What a silly thing to mention. Pokemon. They’d bonded over fucking Pokemon.

But Youngsoon looked at her expectantly and Isabella had always admired her so much and found herself admitting, “I have two. Eight and four.”

“Oh, are they in school? Or will you not be here that long?”

“Yeah, I-- they started school today actually. Since I don’t know how long we’ll be here, I didn’t want them to miss out.”

“Is your younger one in kindergarten?”

“No, Pre-K still but through public school.”

“It was their first day today?” Jungkook asked, tricking her into looking at him. She gave a nod and turned to push the button on the screen as Youngsoon pulled out her wallet to pay. She tried not to sulk but thought that might be why he snorted and then sighed, “You shouldn’t have been speeding.”

“It’s my first day of work too and I was going maybe three over--”

“Twenty-four over,” he clarified. 

“Show me the radar receipt.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, “I let you off with a warning, didn’t I?”

“Yeah because I said--”

“Not because of anything you said,” he corrected instantly, giving her a wide-eyed and pointed stare. 

“--you wanted me to shut up,” she grinned cheekily, grabbing the receipt as it printed out. 

Youngsoon gave her a gentle smile though, because she’d always been kind, and assured her, “Mornings are hard. Sorry it sounds like a tough one.” She took the receipt. “I’m really glad to run into you though. We should get our kids together for a play date! Sora and your youngest are so close in age.”

“Oh. Um…” She hadn’t expected that. Why would she suggest that? She’d hurried so Youngsoon could finish being polite and leave.

“Let me give you my number,” she said instead, digging around in her wallet and then pulling out a business card. “You can text or call my cell that’s listed there.”

“Ok. Um, thanks, sure. Things are a little busy right now but--”

Jungkook snickered and made a face at his sister, “Soona, she doesn’t want to bring her kids around.”

“My kids are wonderful,” Isabella defended hotly, feeling anger charge through her body. Her cheeks flushed with it. It surprised him, he didn’t hide that from his face.

“Uh, I-- I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her. He shifted Sora to his other arm and scratched his cheek. 

Sora seemed oblivious to the awkward exchange as she asked Isabella, “Do you have a boy or a girl?”

“I have one of each. My daughter is the one close to your age.”

“Does she like princesses or cars or both?” Sora asked. Youngsoon laughed gently and pressed her hand to Jungkook’s arm to nudge them along, but motioned to the business card in Isabella’s hand.

“Do call or text.”

“Ok. Yeah. I will.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything more, even goodbye. He’d picked up both bags though after dumping Sora to the ground; she took her mother’s hand and waved to Isabella as the three of them left the store.

Isabella’s cheeks blazed as she turned her attention to the next customer, an older woman who looked vaguely familiar but didn’t seem to recognize Isabella. That was good. She hadn’t thought about how many people she’d see at Target, she’d just been thinking about the ease of picking up shifts and making money because she needed to. 

Embarrassed, she tossed the business card in the trash under her till.

-----------------------

Isabella stretched out on the couch next to Grandma once the kids were in bed a half hour later than she had wanted. That wasn’t too bad. The house felt strangely silent without their voices and pounding footsteps rattling the walls, but it was nice to be able to let out her breath and relax and not try to look like a Responsible Adult. 

Grandma hummed happily and laced her fingers into Isabella’s hair, holding her tea mug in the other hand.

“That better be decaf,” Isabella warned.

“My, you’re a bossy little thing,” Grandma chuckled. 

“I just don’t want you having caffeine nightmares, and you’re barely sleeping as it is--”

“Yes, yes, I know. Nothing but sleepy herbs in this. Would you like some?”

“I’m so wiped, I won’t need any help falling asleep.”

“Go to bed now.”

“Nah, I’ll sit up with you a little longer,” Isabella insisted and sat up, certain the way her grandmother stroked her hair would put her to sleep otherwise. She’d gone so many years without getting to sit with her grandma like this, she wouldn’t trade it for a little extra sleep now that she could.

“Well I heard all about the first day of school from the children at dinner, but how was your first day of work?”

Isabella shrugged, “It’s just Target. It’s the same everywhere you go-- hey, you know who I keep running into?”

“Who?”

“Jungkook. Do you remember him?”

“Of course I remember him.”

“Did you know he’s a cop now?”

“Yes, I knew,” her grandmother confirmed, smiling and nodding. “Why is that so surprising? He’s a sweet boy.”

“Uh, he was sweet when we were eleven. Then he became a raging asshole…”

“Bella,” Grandma scolded, giving her a look about her language.

“Grandma, he was a troublemaker in high school. What the hell made him become a cop? He hated cops! He never showed the slightest interest in becoming a cop and now suddenly he’s lecturing me about…” She trailed off, not wanting to admit to her grandmother about what she’d been up to and realizing she almost had.

Grandma gave her a coyly arched eyebrow and pressed, “About what, my darling granddaughter?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe the fight you had last Thursday--”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabella sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sure you don’t! But I know what a hangover is, my dear, and I don’t think you were using make up to cover bites from an amorous lover--”

“Grandma!” This time she broke off with a laugh and gave her grandmother a gentle, playful shove. “What do you know about amorous bites?”

“Oh, to be young and think you know everything--”

“I’m not young, I’m old,” Isabella sighed and let her head drop to her grandmother’s shoulder. “I stopped being young when I was fourteen. I just have a hard time believing Jungkook grew up enough to be a cop. He still seems like a smarmy asssss...” She’d tried to change the word to something else and couldn’t think of anything on the spot, just dragged the s out awkwardly long.

“Nonsense. Being a cop doesn’t mean you grew up, it just means you passed some tests and they gave you a badge and a gun.”

“Oof. Careful, Grandma! That sounds remarkably progressive. What will the old ladies in your bible study group say? How dare you flaunt authority?”

Grandma laughed and admitted, “Perhaps it is a little tough when you find yourself so much older than authority.”

“I bet he can’t even grow a beard yet.”

“He tried, briefly, a few years ago,” Grandma admitted, grinning when Isabella giggled. “You’re still very young too, sweetheart, you just grew up fast. But someday you’ll look back in disbelief of how young you still were right now, thinking like that.”

“Don’t talk cryptically, Grandma. You’ll make me panic.”

“No, no, I won’t die on you tonight,” the older woman teased, earning a glare from Isabella. “I just find your disbelief he grew up and started a career is amusing. You grew up and got a career and have two children!”

“I hardly think working at Target counts as a career. I’m not even a manager.”

“You could be!”

“No,” Isabella sighed. “I can’t be. I take too many sick days. I mean honestly I was probably about to get fired at my store in New York. It’s a blessing you wanted me to come home. Don’t think for a second I did it for you.”

Grandma grinned, “Oh yes, of course. My selfish granddaughter, only ever doing things for herself.”

Isabella sighed. She knew her grandmother was teasing her. But she did feel selfish. All the time. Every part of her life felt like jumping from one selfish decision to the next, hurting everyone within reach. That was her legacy, wasn’t it? Even her two children, who she would have moved heaven and earth for, suffered because she just couldn’t quite get her shit together. And why couldn’t she get her shit together? Because she kept making bad decisions. Even now, she really had uprooted her children to move home because selfishly she wanted whatever time she had left with her grandmother, even if it meant dividing what little energy and attention she had for her children even further. And selfishly, too, it was a break on rent, which she’d been struggling to make before.

“I didn’t mean that,” her grandmother whispered. “I’m teasing you, Isabella. You’re a good girl with a big heart. Be kind to yourself. I’m glad you’re home, I’m just sad a mini seizure is what brought you home.”

“It wasn’t mini, Grandma.”

“And don’t be too hard on Jungkook. I think he’s made a sincere effort to leave his high school behavior in high school.”

“It would be easier not to be hard on him if he would stop following me everywhere. I swear, he’s like a plague. A shadow!”

Grandma grinned, “Then it’s just like when you were twelve again.”

“God, I hope not. Twelve is the worst age when you’re a girl.”

“It’s not too kind to boys either.”

“Jungkook came out on the right side of it.”

“Oh, do you think he’s handsome now?” her grandmother asked, and Isabella felt the snicker against her scalp.

“No. I meant after puberty, the girls in high school did! He’s ugly now.”

“Isabella.”

“So ugly. Stupid face.”

“Isabella,” her grandmother laughed.

“What! He was probably thinking the same things when he saw me. Wow, she got ugly and old and fat--”

“Ok, missy, I’m cutting you off,” her grandmother said, nudging her to get her to sit up. “Go to bed.”

“What! Cutting me off from what, I’m not drinking anything.”

“From thoughts like that. You are beautiful and hard-working and you have two perfect children.”

“I know, I know.”

“You are kicking ass.”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabelle laughed. 

“I’m eighty-six, I can say ass for once.”

“That’s twice!”

“Ah, better call Officer Jeon to arrest me--”

Isabella pretended to vomit, “Never call him Officer Jeon again. He’s an idiot. He’s so… smug. He thinks he’s better than me--”

“Bella, honey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not sixteen anymore and neither is he. Let it rest.”

Isabella didn’t quite know what her grandmother meant by that. There was plenty she could imply. But while she had no problem assuming intent on Jungkook’s part because he’d been such an absolute asshole in high school, she didn’t want to read anything in what her grandmother said now that could either defend Jungkook or embarrass herself. 

“Fine,” Isabella conceded. “Anyway, I probably won’t see him again. Unless he really is stalking me and then I’ll get a restraining order.”

“That’s my girl,” Grandma laughed and kissed her forehead. “Now to bed. We have to do this all again tomorrow.”

“Wait, the kids have to go to school again?”

It made Grandma laugh, and Isabella was glad to see that. Honestly maybe it was all a little hammed up, even talking about Jungkook, because her grandmother was in constant pain at this point, and any little smile she could get from her was a victory. 

“Ok, let me help you up to bed, Grandma. Tomorrow is another day. I’m sure it’ll be better.”

“So, guess who’s back in town?” Youngsoon brought up at dinner. Jungkook groaned and threw his napkin at her before she said anything further, earning a pinch on the arm from his mom. It wasn’t even weekly family dinner night, so Jungkook had thought it would be safe to go to his parents’ place to mooch food, but Youngsoon had also decided to come over with her kids because her husband had a night out with the guys or whatever. 

She’d waited until they were halfway through the meal, once the kids had finished and run off to play noisily in the living room, to bring it up. As if just to lure Jungkook into the false sense of getting away with it. But at his parents’ curious prompt, Youngsoon answered,

“Isabella Desmond. She’s staying with her grandmother.”

“Isabella Desmond! How is she?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Jungkook grumbled, shoving tempura in his mouth. 

“You already knew?”

Jungkook made a face and admitted, “Yeah, I already knew… she’s… struggling, it seems.”

“Struggling how?” his mother pressed. “It must be hard with her grandmother in poor health…”

“Working at Target doesn’t mean she’s struggling,” Youngsoon countered, leveling a look at Jungkook.

“No, I think she’s struggling because-- I don’t know,” he shrugged. On second thought, he didn’t want to get into it. “Just seems like she has a lot on her plate.”

“She’s got two kids,” Youngsoon informed his parents. “Eight and four, she said. I asked her to give me a call for a playdate.”

“Ah, that’s good. It would be good to see her again. She was always such a good friend to Gukka,” his father said. Jungkook sighed and rolled his eyes, earning a swift kick from his mom beneath the table even before his father teased, “Even when Gukka was not a good friend.”

“I was always a great friend. I’m still a great friend. I let her off with warnings twice.”

“Twice? One was for a speeding ticket. What was the other one?” Youngsoon immediately caught because of course she did.

Jungkook gave her a smug grin, “Sorry, can’t disclose, official police business.”

“Well if she calls you, please invite her over to supper,” his mother suggested. “Her and the children and her grandmother. It would be good to see them all again.”

Jungkook clicked his teeth and said, “She’s not going to call you, Soona. And it’s for the best, just let her be. She’s not in a good place right now.”

“Ok.” Youngsoon gave him a serious look. “Then… help her.”

“I did. I gave her warnings twice.”

“That’s not helping, that’s enabling--”

Jungkook sighed, “She’s not my responsibility.”

“It’s not good,” his mother argued. “She was such a good friend to you when we first moved here. It felt like I didn’t even have a son anymore because you were always off in that treehouse playing together. We bought that Nintendo just to lure you both into the house.”

“Ma, we were twelve and also it was a PlayStation, you can’t just call all video game systems Nintendo. And we don’t owe each other anything because we were old Pokemon buddies. She’s not doing me any favors either.”

“What favors do you want her to do?” Youngsoon asked, bright-eyed.

“Ma, Soona’s being dirty.”

“Soona, behave.”

“I’m just--”

“Yes, I know, I know.”

“She’s pretty, mom. You should have seen Gukka’s grin when we saw her in Target--”

“Bull--- hockey,” Jungkook glared. “She’s a menace. You should have heard her talking her way out of the parking ticket. Demanding to see the radar gun…”

Jungkook’s dad grinned, “Well? Did it work?”

“Wha-- it worked because I was being nice and gave her a warning.”

“You didn’t have a radar gun,” his dad nodded.

“She was clearly speeding but… no… I didn’t…”

“Ah, she was always a clever girl,” his mother laughed. “I hope she is ok. Keep an eye out for her, Gukka. You say you don’t owe her anything? We always owe kindness to the people who were kind to us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I let her off with a warning twice… I don’t know what more you want me to do…”

“Whatever your heart says you should,” his mother beamed at him. Absolutely infuriating. 

Fortunately Soona’s kids ran shrieking into the room, bickering about who broke the TV remote, and Jungkook was saved from further interrogation.

[gangstalkersexposed]

Truth Comes to Light

Since I was a teenager, I was subjected to abuse by men who manipulated me to trust them.

*This is not an “anti-men” spew/blog. There are women involved, too. But the fact is, these men hurt me, manipulated me, gaslit me, groomed me, and then slandered my reputation with no consequences because no one gave a fuck about that kind of thing 10 years ago. I have spoken with justice departments for the past abuse, I was told I could file a report and have it “on hand” if these people continue to bother me/slander me/gangstalk me. I deleted the evidence, because when I tried to make police reports when these incidents first happened, I was blown off, laughed at, and ignored, by people who are suppose to protect teenagers from predatory adults, and trauma in general. I deleted the evidence because i got sick of being reminded of the pain...if I had hindsight and knew these people would continue to torment me, I would’ve kept it. Never delete anything. And to the 14-15 year olds out there thinking they’re special for talking to an older man...he is using you, he will leave you broken, with no care for you. Do not fall for the grooming and manipulation.

I will not be naming names. For the sole purpose of

1. These people will come across this blog, and know its about them.

2. I am not speaking to them, I am speaking to their souls...if there is any left present.

3. I do not want to fuel their fire. They can feel free to get mad about this, and expose themselves. They will not receive anymore of my energy.

4. If something happens to me, this is public information. The proper Justice Departments know the names of these people. I do not need the internet to go after them.

5. I am not out to ruin their lives. All I ask is they own up to what they’ve done/are doing TO THEMSELVES and STOP doing it. They are ruining their own lives just fine, they are miserable which is why they harass me and continue to try and steal my energy and tear my life down. These people have left their friends to die of ODs, they do not want to be exposed, it is their greatest fear.

When I was 15 years old, I met a guy at a local show through friends. He was pretty popular amongst the ladies, but I wasn’t into him like that. I saw him as a big brother, and he even agreed. One day he offered me to hangout, I accepted. When we got to his house, he kissed me and I didn’t really know how to react. Then it turned into making out, which turned into him fingering me. It all happened very quickly. I told him I was uncomfortable, and he knew I am a virgin and I don’t want my first time to be like this. He didn’t believe me. He over-powered me, bent me over, and raped me. He only stopped when he saw blood, and realized what he’d done. This man threatened my life if I went to the police. He was 20. I was 15. Of course I believed him. This man now has a wife and a child. I wish I had gone to the police, and still regret it to this day. I did confront this man before I got off social media. He told me some man I literally never met, told him that he took my virginity. I quickly realized this man I had never met was a scapegoat for his actions. When I called him out on it, he blocked me. I never told anyone about this, besides recently told a trusted friend, and then contacted authorities to see if there was anything that could be done/if evidence could be salvaged. You know who you are. Admit what you did. And stop slandering me. YOU made the choice to do what you did. I told you to STOP, NO, STOP, NO, I AM A VIRGIN, STOP.

Later in the year, I met a senior who went to my school. He was new, and came from another state. I hungout with older people most of the time, so we ended up chatting. I had a really big crush on him. He was 19 years old. We were in the same friend group on some occasions, and ended up clicking and exchanging numbers at one point. He told me he liked me, and wanted to be with me “but he could go to prison”. We did exchange photos during that time. 3 months before I turned 16, we began officially dating, or so I thought. It turns out, this man never told anyone we dated. When I made it public on my myspace page(lmfao) His Ex girlfriend flipped out on both me, and him, and threatened to send him to jail. He then told me we could “date in secret”...he was hooking up with girls his age the whole time. While making me out to look like a crazy, obsessed “little girl”. Well, you slept with me. You admitted to me that you used me. You even made a tumblr post about me how I was like a “dead fish in bed” because I had told all the girls you fucked behind my back what you were doing to me. I took this guy to New York...I never held his age over his head...I never wanted to cause him any pain. Literally, all I had for this man was “love”, really a stupid girl crush, but at the time it was my perception of “love”. It wasn’t until he made the tumblr post, that I threatened to go to the police, and its because I was horrified he’d made our sexual acts public...let alone sexual actions with a minor. This man then guilt tripped me into how his “life would be ruined” if I were to go to the police. Recently, his friends..who I didn’t know at first were his friends...started drama on the internet..they then doxxed my home address and phone number and called me threatening me under the false guise of one of their boyfriends being a police officer, when he is not (thats a felony btw...oof) If you are reading this, please leave me alone. You caused me a lot of trauma when I realized the truth about “us”, you caused me a lot of trauma when you made that tumblr post about me and made me out to look like a whore. I “loved” you, in a stupid teenager way. You knew I was struggling with God, you knew I was struggling with my family members death, and you sunk your claws into me, and to this day refuse to admit to others what you have done to me, hence your friends targeting and harassing me. You, are a sick coward. I don’t even want you to admit anything, at this point. I just want you to fuck off and eventually burn in Hell like you’ve always gloated about doing. Also seems like your literal, self-proclaimed, witch wife is sucking out the remnants of your soul, anyways. I hope this paragraph gives you a panic attack, karmas a bitch.

When I was 16, one of my friends joined a local band. I did date the one member for about 2 weeks, but he lived in a different state and we never actually hungout, so because of this we broke up. I still saw them at local shows, and my friend was still in the band. I assumed we were all friends/acquaintances, whatever. One day around 5-6PM, the one guy texts me and invites me out to a local show, he is covering for the drummer in his friends band. He assured me everyone else would be there, and he could give me a ride home. Once I arrived, he told me their set was over and tossed his bracelet on to the ground, and told me to “pick it up if I wanted to get in for free”. I asked him if that was a joke, and he said no. Things got very awkward, and tense..and they told me they wanted to get going. They then tell me, if I want a ride home, I would have to give them both blowjobs. I thought it was a joke. Until they actually left me there. Two weeks later, the one guy names a song after me, and told everyone it was about me. This song, was not written about me and was written about the lead singers ex girlfriend of the other band. I want to thank the vocalist for owning up to the truth, as he thought it was disgusting, too. The drummer, gave it a malicious name intertwining with mine as retaliation of me rejecting him. The bands involved in this were _______ pending legal consequences* I am also speaking to a lawyer about suing for slander, sexual harassment, endangerment of a minor (the one guy was 18), and emotional/mental abuse. If you guys are reading this, enjoy being extradited to my state for court. Once/If that is settled I will be posting their full names and court documents. If you are reading this, and want to avoid court, admit to what you have done. I will not hold it over your head in a legal manner. I will accept your apology, as long as you make it public like you made my slander and harassment and trauma, I had to relive that night everytime someone mentioned that band title. You two, hurt me that night. You knowingly lured me out to a show, in attempts to get sexual favors from me so I could get a ride home. The friends I met with after you left me for saying No, have also written statements against you both. The choice is yours.

I will stop here for tonight. For the next story is a long, complicated rollercoaster.

To give you a summary:

I met this man in 9th grade, and we were on & off from my sophomore year until late 2016, when I finally left him for becoming physically abusive. It is a long, long story. To this day, he attempts to torment me, and literally gang stalks me through his groupies, who are mostly women (jezebels)

Read my stories. Share them. Learn from them. Don’t do what I did. If you ever come across people like this, cut them off with no explanation. These people will gaslight you, manipulate you, torment you, feed you drugs, and try and drive you to suicide. They will do everything they possibly can to not be exposed once you see who they truly are,so don’t let them know you know, and just quietly walk away.

[alpha-bnha-boys]

I feel like it would be cute to request a scenario for shinsou as a kid or 🍼 thank you so much!!!

A wonderful request my dear!! ヾ(*´∀｀*)ﾉ

AND BEFORE ANY OF YOU START WITH THAT:

“oH, sMuTsY jUsT dId A sHiNsOu rEqUeSt-”    ヘ（。□°）ヘ

Yes, Yes I did. Don’t act like I didn’t give y’all full disclosure of my incurable and damn near crippling Shinsou-bias. ALSO I’m trying to post something here on Tumblr everyday, and this is the one I finished first because it was so hella cute and fun and I couldn’t help myself! 

I’M SORRY I’M SUCH A HOE FOR THE EGGPLANT 

・゜・(ノД`)

 Am simple smutsy. I see Shinsou, I write...  (´;ω;｀) 

Honestly though, I’m sorry you guys... I’m gonna do more than just Shinsou, I promise. 

I hope none of you are too upset with me, and that you will still be able to enjoy this little fluff piece! (*´･∀･)

But I meant what I said @negansnumberonewifie​ - this is a wonderful request, thank you so much! I loved writing it, and I hope you enjoy it too! 

                                             • Shinsou : 🍼 •

* No warnings! Pretty sure this one is like 99% SFW! 

Except for language, but that’s a given...

However I did hold back this time. Note the lack of f-bombs.

I surprise even myself, sometimes. 

Nearly all the heroes had been called to the inner district of the city; as a hoard of villains were wreaking havoc on the general public. You and Shinsou had been partnered up, and you used both of your quirks to take down as many villains as you could. By the time the battle was over, the heroes had triumphed and the villains were detained and escorted away from the scene.

Medical units were being called in by the dozen. One of the villains had a peculiar quirk that had left several civilians reverted to their child-like selves. Only a few had been affected, but the emergency response teams were doing their best to corral them up and comfort their panicked cries.

                                                 - - - - - - - - -

After a moment or so, you scanned the area, your face dawning with panic.

“W-Where’s Shinsou?!”

The other heroes heard your distress, their gazes shooting over to you.

Suddenly, you felt a small tug on your shirt.

Looking down, you saw a child, what appeared to be a five year old boy.

He had wild indigo hair, and clothes that were entirely too big for him, baggy on his small little frame…

‘Oh… Oh shit.’

“Sh-Shinsou?? Is that-??”

The little boy nodded, toddling closer to you as the other heroes dashed over with an emergency response team in tow.

You felt Shinsou nuzzle up against you, clinging to your leg shyly.

Your mind was dumbfounded.

‘Oh my God… he’s so cute…’

The medical units tried to coax him away from you, but he wouldn’t budge; silently shaking his head at every attempt to coerce him into their arms.

You knelt down to Shinsou’s eye-level, and he was quick to rush into your arms, wrapping his own around your neck and hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Shinsou, s-sweetheart, these people are trying to help you. They just want to take care of you until you go back to normal.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head again, burying himself further into your neck, his little legs scrambling to wrap themselves around your waist.

“I wanna stay with Y/N.”

Kaminari was there, and he knelt down beside you, chiming in with a big smile on his face;

“Hey buddy! Don’t you wanna come hang out with your best pal Denki?”

Shinsou shook his head again.

“I wanna be with Y/N. I like Y/N.”

Denki smiled, scratching the back of his head.

“Aw don’t you like me too, buddy?”

Shinsou peeked out from your neck, looking Kaminari in the eyes with a pout.

“It’s diffwent.”

A blush creeped up your face, but you smiled softly, scooping the child up in your arms.

You patted the back of his head, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll look after him until the affects wear off, is that alright?”

The first responder scrambled for words, a little surprised you’d be willing to do such a thing,

“W-w-well sure! T-that’s fine, if you want to! The effects appear to only last 12 hours, so he’ll be back to normal by tomorrow morning!”

It was only a little past 1PM, so you decided to enjoy every minute you had with the Little Shinsou, utterly enchanted with his adorable disposition.

However, his lack of filter was an added bonus you had not anticipated.

After trading in his massive adult shoes for some kids’ shoes at a nearby store, you took him to the dessert parlor you were both regulars at.

Shinsou looked at the menu and shook his head.

“What’s wrong? You normally come here all the time, Shinsou.”

Shinsou crossed his arms, “Everything hewre is too sweet, I onwy come here because you’re always hewre getting tea.”

You made a mental note to start visiting another snack/beverage location, one that Shinsou might like too; as the child’s confession had made your heart flutter.

After grabbing pretzels from a nearby stand, you saw a sign for a petting zoo that was currently operating in the park, and asked Shinsou if he’d like to go.

Shinsou nodded his head vigorously, pretzel crumbs all along his mouth.

“Yes pwease! I wanna go to the petting zoo, pwease!”

As you made your way to the park, he wrapped his hand around your fingers, dragging you along behind him.

“Come on Y/N! Wet’s go!”

You giggled, reveling in his excitement as you approached the animal pens and bought a baggy of food for each.

Shinsou’s face grew worried for a moment, and he fiddled with his baggy clothes, reaching for something in his back pocket.

He pulled out his wallet, the leather bound pocketbook looking so large in his tiny hands.

“Hewre! I don’t want you to have to pay fowr it!”

You laughed, “Shinsou, I don’t mind! It’s my treat!”

Shinsou shook his head defiantly, a stern pout on his face.

“No Y/N, a gentwlmen is suppowsed to pay fowr his date.”

You blushed, bending down to give the child a kiss on the forehead.

“How about I take out the $6 for our tickets, okay?”

Before he could protest, the petting zoo worker opened the gate for the bunny pen, and Shinsou went rushing inside along with a few other children.

You opened his wallet, deciding to humor him and take out the $6 you had agreed upon.

Aside from usual wallet items; IDs, receipts, credit/debit cards and etc., the wallet was quite obviously Shinsou’s.

It had PetSmart member’s card, a punch-card from a coffee shop (2 punches away from a free coffee, by the way), a library card, a member’s card for a bicycle shop.

You couldn’t help but smile at it all.

You saw a photo poking out of a pouch in his wallet, the corner pointedly worn from use; curiosity getting the best of you, you pulled it out.

It was a 4 paneled photo the two of you. Its edges more worn than the pouch that held it.

You and the class went to the fair in your last year at UA, and you had all decided to go to a photo booth.

Once all the photos were done, everyone started leaving, but Shinsou said he accidentally put an extra token in the machine.

You happily offered to take some photos with him.

And he had… kept it… after all this time.

4 panels of the two of you; one of you giving each other rabbit ears, one of you making funny faces, another of you sticking your tongues out, and the last one- you surprising Shinsou with a kiss on the cheek, his face blooming with red.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a small voice calling out to you, “Come on Y/N! You gotta pet the bunnies!”

You slid the photo back into its pouch and tucked the wallet into your bag, deciding to hold onto it for safe keeping.

You knelt down beside Shinsou in the pen, watching with soft eyes as he gently petted one the rabbits, its nose crinkling and eyes closing happily at his gentle touch.

You saw the other children, hastily chasing around the rabbits as their parents scolded them.

Shinsou was so loving, so tender with the creature, easing his hand in front of it with food and smiling as it ate from his hand.

‘I bet he always was mature for his age.’

After the bunnies, you visited the goats, and you and Shinsou laughed at how goofy they were. Then the ducks, where Shinsou made a friend that decided to sit in his lap. Finally you visited the chickens, where Shinsou pointed out a particularly scraggly looking black one asleep in the corner, saying it looked like Aizawa.

After wiping the tears from your eyes from laughter, Shinsou grabbed your hand, yawning.

“Hey Y/N, can we take a nap? I’m getting sweepy.”

You smiled, scooping the child into your arms and letting him rest his head on your shoulder like he had earlier.

“Alright honey, let’s go back to my house; then we can take a nap. How does that sound?”

You arrived home, Shinsou having fallen asleep before you’d even left the park.

You laid him down gently on the loveseat in your living room, sliding a pillow under his head and tucking him in with a fuzzy blanket. You removed his scarf and brushed the hair out of his face, marveling at his angelic face as he slept.

‘I wonder if we ever had a baby- would they be this cute?’

You blushed at the thought, but decided you were in need of a nap too, getting yourself situated on the big couch beside him.

It wasn’t even 10 minutes after you’d closed your eyes before you felt a familiar tug at your shirt.

There was Shinsou, sleepy-eyed as ever and clutching the fuzz blanket in his arms.

“Can I sweep wif you?”

You smiled, scooting over as you made room for him.

“Sure, come here sweetheart.”

Turns out the petting zoo as well as the battle from earlier had worn both of you out.

You held the child in your arms, humming at the warmth from his tiny body. Not long after, you both fell asleep.

You awoke the next morning to a simultaneously awakening Shinsou groaning beneath you.

       ‘Beneath you? You had been the big spoon, what-?

                                        Oh…

                     Oh shit.’

Shinsou had changed back overnight, and now you were laying on his chest, half-sprawled out on top of him.

You fought back the wince as his eyes fluttered open, realizing you had no time to retreat or feign ignorance.

You were about to have some serious explaining to do.

                    Dee End! ;3

     xoxo,          Mama Smutsy ヽ(｡• ω•｡)ﾉ