#I know about the freshly cut grass but I am out of options

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Take It Back

Sometimes the names we have don't carry the best memories, they don't bring out the best in us. Steve and Eddie know this all too well, both weighted down by the legacies of their fathers, and it takes them a while to come to terms with the way they feel about their surnames. They both work around them, evade the connection as well as possible, and are determined to build their identities around these rotten spots, not allowing them to spoil more in their lives. The child of a criminal and a child of a cold, widely-hated businessman. What a pair they make.

At one point, they consider changing their surnames. Or moving. Maybe both, anything to escape the unfeeling, ever critical stare of Thomas Harrington and the tainted memory of John Munson. They give it a lot of thought, drink some more than they should, but it's a heavy topic and it requires a heavy dose of liquor. At the end of their discussion, they wobble back from the Hideout, leaning on each other and only stopping here and there to consider the option of throwing up. "You knoo-ow, Steve," hiccups Eddie and the sway of his hips almost has him do a pirouette, "I think I got it. The...grand plan. The mmmmaster plan. Evil. Sssso evil." He looks at Steve from under his heavy-lidded eyes. "Am evil, no?"

"You, Eds," slurs Steve and hugs the street light, "can be anything. Aaanything. So yesh. You can be evil, babe. Go do it. Spread chaos. Fight...someone. Heroes. But not El. El is cool." He looks up at the light bulb and mutters "so pretty" before realizing he's nearly blinding himself.

"I love you. I do. You...support. Me and my viles," Eddie swings around the lamp and crashes into Steve, giggling. "You will be my villain wife. The...blood bank to my Dracula or something. The electricity to my monster." He sways against Steve for a moment, then pointing vaguely behind his shoulder. "You think we can make it to the other lamp? Wanna swwwwing. Around it." He smacks his lips and repeats the word. "Swing. Swwwing. Sounds all whooshy. Like it."

Steve nods solemnly and grabs Eddie's waist. "Let's whoosh. Can you..oh shit, the other leg, didn't we come from there? Who the fuck cares...um. Can you tell me? The masterrrplan?" The last word is a bit slurred, but the next lamp is far away and it takes more than he has to just walk in a slightly squiggly line. Or just walk.

Eddie nods too, although a bit too enthusiastically, and that does it for their fragile balance. It's only thanks to Steve's reflexes that they don't smash into the ground but dive into the nearest grass patch, although the style of the dive leaves something to be desired. "Whoops. Soft," Eddie giggles and squeezes Steve's chest. "My plan, love, is to stay in this shithole. It's devious, I tell you."

Steve blinks and shakes his head, perhaps harder than necessary. "Can you...el...laborate when the moon settles down? It's ssspinny. Spinning...Sleeping beauty? Is the moon spinning the string thingy and falling asleep?"

They lie next to each other on the grass and stare at the moon. "Maybe?" mutters Eddie, his hand tracing circles in the air. "Spinning wheel? Spinning...Wheeler," he giggles and snorts several times, making more and more undignified sounds as he tries to stop himself. "Spinning Wheeler. In the sky. That would be bad."

Steve howls in laughter too and starts hiccuping. "Y-yeah. I mean. Not s-sure which is worse, Nancy seeing ev-verything from there or Mike..." He rubs his head in the grass, his hair slowly becoming more and more like a dryad. "Sorry, you were...yeah. Your master plan?"

"Oh yeah," and Eddie is giggling again, the usual undertones of bitterness smoothed over by their proximity, the smell of freshly cut grass and held hands. The night is quiet, they are alive, they are okay and if they're at a point of their lives when their surnames can actually become a concern instead of, oh wait, the world ending, Eddie will take it. He turns to Steve and nuzzles his forehead into that silly polo shirt. "What do you say to this...we stay. We keep these shitty names. And we make them...ours," he finishes, as if that was the most astute sentence in the history of mankind.

"...Eds, I think I already have mine?" Steve rubs his grass-covered head, leaving green streaks over his eyebrows. "I think..it's on my ID or..."

"Shhhhhh," Eddie presses his finger to Steve's lips and giggles again when Steve starts nibbling on his fingertip. "Not what I mean. Let's stay here and f-fuck them over. Like they fucked us over, but better. Because..." he taps his finger on Steve's lips and teeth, "...we will destroy them. What they mean in this stupid town."

There's a small light in Steve's eyes, or maybe it's just the reflection of the moon. One more kiss to Eddie's index finger and then Steve leans back, making himself comfortable on the grass. "I like it. Erase them."

"That's my big boy with his big words," grins Eddie and ruffles his hair. "Yeah. Let's...let's build something. I'll...open a garage or something. A record store. I don't care. But when that...piece of shit...gets released from prison, he will come back and find out...he doesn't exist here anymore. That Munson means...it means something else." His dark eyes travel to Steve's face, careful. "Is...is that stupid?"

"No," Steve whispers and he suddenly seems sober, gently grasping Eddie's shoulders. "Let's do it. You'll be a...small business owner or something. A honest guy. Your dad will get a heart attack," he snorts. "And I...I want to do something...with my hands. I'm good with my hands, I could do some maintenance stuff or...you know. Just help around the neighborhood. Harrington, the reliable manual worker," he muses, watching the moon again. "My dad will be so...so pissed. I wanna do it. I won't hide as a failure. I will be a proud failure!"

"Right!" Eddie nods and almost falls on Steve's face. "Let's fail the fuckers!"

They burst into laughter again and kiss, once, twice, still not enough. Eventually, Robin finds them collapsed on the lawn, giggling like maniacs. She hides her concern behind a scowl, informs them that this is absolutely NOT why she got a driver's licence, but they seem in such a good mood that she doesn't have it in her heart to yell at them more. She just makes sure they both get into bed safely, but if she's just a little smug when she hears retching sounds in the morning and if Eddie exits their bedroom, a lovely shade of green on his face (both the alcohol and the grass), well, who can blame her.

It's a long road, but they stick to their plan. Eddie starts working in a local garage, partially thanks to Hopper's persuasiveness, and soon his natural talent and hard work earn him a reputation. When people actually come in and ask for him specifically, Eddie's eyes become glassy and he might have to bite his lip to stifle a squeal of joy. Steve talks to Hopper and Wayne, the closest father figures he has, and in the end decides to apply for a job at the Hawkins PD. He is calm, reliable and well-liked, enough to resolve neighborly squabbles without much damage. And if he has the pleasure to meet his father at the station once, complaining about an overgrown bush next to the Harrington residence, he just smiles politely at that face which haunted him for decades, and tells him "I am truly sorry, sir, but they are well within their rights. There is nothing I can do and I would advise you against pursing any sort of...forceful persuasion. Because I will know if that happens and I will be obliged to act in accordance with law. Have a pleasant day." The look on his face makes it all so worth it.

Yes, there are still people who remember the murder charges and the old criminal, the cold-hearted tactics of Harrington senior and the King Steve persona, but there are also those who pat Eddie on the back when he makes sure their old car is able to make a journey across the state lines, there are old ladies who invite Steve over for coffee to share their troubles with neighbors and that's just enough. They finally feel like themselves, their surnames no longer a brand, but something that is purely theirs. Steve always comes home a bit later than Eddie, takes off his shoes and hat and kisses Eddie's shoulder as he heats up their dinner, the smell of oil still on him. "Good evening, Mr. Munson," he whispers into his ear. Eddie just grins, turns around and gives Steve a peck on the lips. "Welcome home, Mr. Harrington."

[lorei-writes]

Hi Lorei!

I hope I got here in time... saw your post just as my computer decided to update itself. Happy Weekend Party!

5 of your positive qualities,

I try to be kind

I am smart

I have a decent sense of humor

I'm loyal

I'm diplomatic

5 of your negative qualities,

I am messy (not dirty, just ... chaotic)

I am a picky eater

I can fixate on minor issues

I am a worrier (ok, I am anxious)

I procrastinate

up to 5 of your likes,

Reading

Autumn - and taking long walks when the leaves are crunchy

Mountains

Learning, researching, investigating interesting topics (don't ask to see my browser history!)

Visual arts - film, television, theater, museums

up to 5 of your dislikes,

Horror

Mushrooms

The smell of freshly cut grass (allergic)

[I'm going to leave this blank, but it's about politics, so I'll spare you the rant]

Pollution

your pet peeves,

Getting interrupted while I am in the middle of something

Getting told that something I dislike is "good for me" and therefore I should do it anyway

relationship deal breakers,

Possessiveness

No respect for personal boundaries

Excessive drinking/drug use

Lack of interest in personal growth

Cruelty to animals and people

(optional) up to 3 wild cards of your choice

I am introverted and need a certain amount of alone/quiet time to recharge.

I'm a mediocre cook but a great baker (but a terrible decorator)

I love snow

I hope I got in in time! Have a great weekend!

Hello!

Whew, those updates always arrive at the most convenient time, don't they? Luckily, all worked out this time!

From the thoughts diary...

I am a worrier (ok, I am anxious)

Ah. Welcome to the court. ~ Signed, Court Overthinker

--

Thought #1: The yandere trope would be a really poor fit, same as "he drinks to drink away his sorrows (broodingly)". Add "villain who needs love to reform himself" to that list.

Overall, I'd lean towards more mature characters, who have their stuff (mostly) sorted out. Not the constant-walking-festival-slash-soap-opera-of-a-person, not oh-convince-me-i-am-worthy-of-even-existing-(we-are-going-to-spend-the-next-15-chapters-pretending-i-don't-love-you), and probably not the i-am-your-boss-but-also-a-major-major-BRAT.

I think it'd lean towards characters who'd be ready to settle down, and who'd be competent enough to live on their own. They should know what is important to them, why exactly that is the case, and what compromises they may be willing to make. Generally, I think it'd be better if they had rather balanced approach towards most things -- after all, given all its complexity, it is hard to see the world as purely black-and-white.

+Emotionally mature, with good understanding of the fact that relationships are both give and take. +"Love is a choice that needs to be made daily" sort of mindset - good idea on why effort matters (and that effort doesn't necessarily need to be some grand gestures).

Suggested Characters: Shingen (IkeSen), Sasuke (IkeSen), Comte (IkeVamp), Theo (IkeVamp; maybe? He has some potential), Leon (IkePri; maybe? He does lean towards "boyish" on the charm scale...), Rio (IkePri; maybe? As before).

Weekend Party

[angst-fairygodmother]

I Am Stretched On Your Grave (A Bad Samaritan Fic)

A/N: I am the answer to the question “Why can’t we have nice things?” Don’t worry, it’s just a canon-compliant AU. Word Count: 1014 Rating: M - major character death, grief, canon-typical language, spoilers for/references to the plot of Bad Samaritan, some slight victim blaming

It was sunny. Of course it was the one fucking sunny day of the year in Portland, because the universe had a sick sense of humor. The afternoon sun was warm against black, and the sky was a bright, crystal blue. She hated it. She wanted to hate something, because hate was easier than pain. She couldn’t hate him, so the only option left was the clear sky. 

Technically, Derek’s name had been cleared. Technically, he was a victim of Cale Erendreich, not a criminal who had murdered two people and killed himself to avoid the consequences. Technically there should have been mourners, and wreaths, and maybe a candle-light vigil. Technically didn’t stop the picketers who thought he had forfeit the right to be buried in the churchyard. Technically didn’t stop the priest from leaving as quickly as possible without being improper. Technically didn’t change that there were only three people there, gathered around the fresh-packed earth and somehow miles apart: Ryne, Sean, and a woman she only knew from a photograph. 

Despite the weather, Ryne was cold, numb, staring vacantly down. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, the dark patch of freshly disturbed dirt feeling burnt onto her retinas.

“Hey,” Sean said softly, voice drawing her upward, out of the grave she felt like she was lying in too. 

He approached slowly, having the decency to look a little guilty at least, with a hand tucked into the pocket of his pants. They didn’t quite match the shade of black of his suit, and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d bothered to try or just decided to wear his valet uniform and a cheap, off-the-rack blazer.��

“What do you want?” she snapped, turning away from him only to realize that they were the only ones left at the graveside and there was nowhere for her to go. 

“To talk to you.” He circled around to put himself in front of her again and ducked his head to force her to meet his eyes, eyes that probably matched her own, like they’d started crying one day and never stopped.

“I thought I made it clear when I blocked your number that I didn’t want to do that.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially right now.”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Please Ryne,” he sounded hurt, or like he might cry at any second, and it cut her to the core, “just let me be there for you, let us be there for each other. Like we always are. Isn’t that what Derek would want?”

She whipped back around to face her cousin, eyes blazing, tears a mix of anguish and rage. 

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, poking him in the chest. “You don’t get to say his name and try to use him against me. Not now.” Her lip wobbled and she fought back a sob. “What Derek would or wouldn’t have wanted is irrelevant. Because he is dead, Sean. Because you weren’t there for him.”

“That’s not fair, Ryne. You know if there was anything I could have done…”

“If things were fair, that fucking tombstone would read Sean Falco, not Derek Sandoval.”

Sean opened his mouth to reply before trailing off as he looked past her. Rage rapidly cooling into numbness she turned to meet the face of a stranger, one she knew all too well from a photograph.

“Hi, I...know we don’t know each other, and I didn’t actually know Derek but I wanted to pay my respects. I’m Katie. I was--”

“Cale’s...the girl, in the office,” Ryne finished.

“How are you?” Sean asked from over Ryne’s shoulder.

“Recovering,” Katie answered with a shrug before focusing her attention back on Ryne. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”

Ryne scoffed. “I appreciate the sympathy, but you don’t have to pretend. It’s not like it’s anything compared to what you--”

Katie shook her head. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” She took the younger woman by the arm, leading her away from the graveside, and Sean who stayed rooted in his place, and Ryne followed limply.

“I may have had the worse physical experience,” Katie continued. “But I have a trauma counselor and physical therapist, and a very loving and understanding husband to help me get through it. You lost someone who, I can tell, was painfully important to you, and ended up isolated. That’s harder to move on from.”

“Where are we going?”

“Your boyfriend died and it’s kind of my fault, and there’s clearly not going to be much of a wake. The least I can do is buy you lunch. And a stiff drink.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Have you been hungry at all since…?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” Katie shrugged. “Kinda have to eat anyway to avoid wasting away.”

“I don’t want to leave him alone,” Ryne mumbled, looking over her shoulder. 

“We can invite Sean along. It just seemed like things were...less than great between you, and you could use a friend.”

“I meant Derek,” more tears spilled and her steps faltered just before they passed the funeral gates and the still shouting protestors. 

The case had made national news, and turned every moment of the aftermath into a spectacle and it made her sick to think about. Part of her feared that his grave would be vandalized as soon as there weren’t eyes on it. Part of her just wanted to lie there in the grass beside him forever, to sink into that ground. 

“Right. Of course. We could get something to-go and bring it back?” 

Katie’s eyebrows raised in question and something about the expression reminded Ryne of Derek. She couldn’t help the almost manic laugh that spilled from her lips past the tears. 

“This is super weird,” she said, giggling. “You know that right?”

“So?” 

“Alright. Let’s go get a cemetery picnic.”

Katie offered her a crooked smile which she returned, feeling for the first time in weeks like the blackness settled over the world wasn’t quite so impenetrable. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .6.

thursday

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Warnings: non/dub con sex (you know what it is ;))

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader spends her last night in the Rogers’ household.

Note: OMG it’s the finale! Hope y’all are ready because I sure as fuck am not. But let’s get snappin’.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

…

It was your last full day with Kylie. With Steve. You were exhausted. The week had lasted much longer than anticipated. And the night. You spent most of it awake. Not just because Steve slept on the other side of your wall but because of the itch which never fully faded. Every time you about to doze, it woke you. Your thighs tickled and your core pulsed. He had left you wanting and you suspected it was no accident.

When the sun rose, you did too. You kept quiet. You listened until you heard movement in the next room. Steve's door opened and shut, his footsteps paused in the hallway. A light graze along the other side. A sigh. He carried on and left you to finally breathe.

You bathed if only to waste time. You were drawn from the tub by a knock. It was Kylie. As promised, she'd awoken early.

She entered as you held tight your towel. She was ready for the day. A black bathing suit with cut-outs complemented her perfect figure. Your flower bathing suit was out of the question and your bikini bottoms were missing. Your other option was the bright yellow frilly piece your mom had bought you. Oh well, you’d just be lounging in the pool.

You changed and followed her into the hall. The house was eerily quiet. It felt oddly empty. You listened for any noise from the room next to yours or below. Kylie slipped her sunglasses on as she descended the stairs lazily. You trailed her, your ears pricked for any sign of life.

“My dad went into town,” She yawned as she led you into the kitchen, “Something about his motorcycle? I dunno. He’s been working on that thing for years.” 

“Oh,” You let out a silent breath of relief.

She rounded the island and pulled out a pitcher from the fridge and a tray of ice. “I figured ice coffees by the pool will be a great start to the day,” She grinned. “A lazy day to end your visit.”

“Thank god,” You smiled. “I’m not looking forward to a summer at the banquet hall.”

“Yeah, but the tips,” She took out two glasses and added ice. “My mom got me a job at a newspaper. Folding flyers.”

“Shit,” You frowned as she poured the cold brew and replaced the pitcher in the fridge. “I’d gladly trade weddings for the menial work.”

“If only,” She slid your coffee across to you. “Oh well, let’s just enjoy the sun.”

“When do you go to your mom’s?” You asked as you stepped out into the yard. Birds chirped merrily and you could smell the freshly cut grass over the fence. 

“Another week. Figure it’s enough time to say goodbye to Taylor.” She sat on a lounger and sipped her drink. “He’s dropping out, eh? His parents are pissed.”

“Really?” You draped your towel over the back of the chair and sat.

“He hates it. He’s not one for reading, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s all just a waste of time. If my parents weren’t down my throat about it, I wouldn’t even be there. I just wanna go live in a big city and be me.”

“Yeah,” You took a gulp and set down the glass carefully beside your beach chair. “I don’t know what to do if I don’t get the switch. I mean, I could still write in my spare time but...whatever. You’re right, let’s just chill and worry about it later.”

“Ooh, I like vacation you,” She giggled. “I’ll enjoy her while she lasts.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” You snapped.

“Nah, not at all, mom,” She teased, “Don’t worry, it’s what I like about you. All my other friends encourage my bad decisions.”

You shook your head and put your own sunglasses on as you reclined. You were okay with spending your last day doing nothing. It would be a nice reprieve before a day spent driving to a summer of work.

-

Steve returned that afternoon. The sun’s heat had softened and you floated around the pool in half a slumber. Your heart fluttered as you heard the car engine and the subsequent open and close of the front door. The house muted all other noise and you prayed he did not come looking for you.

It was almost twenty minutes before he made his appearance. Your sunbathed trance had broke and you were antsy atop your floatie. You fidgeted as you tried to balance the still unfinished book and glanced to the glass doors as they slid open.

“Hey,” Steve appeared in a short-sleeve button-up and shorts. Kylie waved to him as she texted at the edge of the pool. “You look...relaxed.”

“What’s up, dad?” She grumbled as she tore her eyes from her screen.

“Just checking on you guys,” He sat on the lounger you had formerly occupied. “Have you had lunch?”

“Dad, we can fend for ourselves,” She shook her head and set her phone down as she pushed herself away from the side of the pool. “We’re adults.”

“I know,” He smiled and she didn’t notice as his eyes strayed to you. You closed your book and shielded your chest with it. “I was just trying to be nice.” He sighed and blocked the sun from his eyes. “I ran into Taylor’s mom...she asked how you were doing?”

Kylie sat up and nearly turned over her floatie. “You’re checking in on me. Dad, me and Taylor--”

“I don’t have a problem with Taylor,” He asserted, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She leaned back slowly.

“You didn’t mention he was going away,” He scratched his chin as he spoke. “I know it’s probably difficult but--”

“What do you mean going away?” Kylie’s floatie shook dangerously again as she jolted up.

“I thought you...knew,” He seemed genuinely perplexed, though you had found him to be a great actor. “He’s leaving on Sunday...for enlistment.”

“Enlistment?” Her voice peaked and she dove off her floatie. She broke the surface and dragged herself through the water back to her phone at the edge. “I didn’t--He didn’t tell me.”

She climbed out and dialed her phone as she stormed to the glass door. You gaped and Steve met your gaze. A grin slowly spread across his face. Shit. This wasn’t new information. This was an expertly timed reveal of a secret he’d been holding onto. 

You swallowed and paddled yourself over to the ladder. You climbed out and Steve stood. He moved into your path as you made to follow Kylie.

“Get out of my way,” You hissed.

“I got you a gift,” He kept his distance but his eyes embraced you. It was as if you could feel the things he was thinking of doing to you. “I left it on your bed.”

“I…” You sidestepped him but he didn’t try to stop you. His fingers merely brushed along your thigh and snapped the bottom of your swimsuit. “I gotta go check on Kylie.”

You scurried around him and through the door. You could hear Kylie’s voice from upstairs and you glanced back to the yard. Steve had turned to watch you but did not follow. His hands were on his hips in a victorious pose. He knew what he had done.

-

Kylie spent an hour on the phone with Taylor. Then the rest of the night texting him as you tried to comfort her. She was too distracted, too angry to notice your own distress. When she didn’t have her phone, she was in tears or fits of rage. You listened to her rants as she paced restlessly or collapsed weakly on her bed.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” She bemoaned as she slumped on her bed. “He was just going to leave me.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your last day had taken a sour turn and you had zero relationship advice to offer. You had avoided men for most of your life. You didn’t get them either. They seemed more stressful than anything. The last week had confirmed as much.

“Kylie, maybe he was scared to tell you,” You peeked out the window just beyond her bed. It was dark out. Past nine already. Your evening had wasted away with her temper. “I’m sure he meant to but it’s probably hard for him, too.”

“Ugh,” She kicked her feet and stood with a growl. “I just...I have to talk to him.”

“Kylie,” You rose, “Come on, it’s my last night.”

“And it might be my last chance to say goodbye,” She whined. “I’m sorry, but I might not see him...ever again.”

“You have two days left to say goodbye,” You pleaded.

“I promise I’ll be back to see you off,” She took her phone and tucked it in her pocket. “Please.”

You sighed. You really didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t want to be here alone. But how much could you take of her fits? You knew she was going to leave whether you agreed or not. She already had her keys in her hand.

“Fine, I guess I can’t say no,” You muttered. “Go.”

“Thank you,” She grabbed your hand, “Really. I know I’m being a shit friend but…”

You pulled your hand from her grip and crossed your arms. “Just go.”

Her blonde lashes lowered in guilt but she left without another word. She brushed past you and rushed through her door and down the stairs. No pretense in hiding her departure. You listened from her open door as she hurried out. Her engine turned and tore down the drive. 

You quietly pulled shut her door and tiptoed down the hall. You pushed through into your own room and it clicked behind you as you entered. You crossed to your bed and fell onto it with a groan. You kept yourself from screaming into the pillow as you landed on an unseen object. You sat up and climbed off the crumpled cardboard.

You shifted the lid off the box and blinked at its contents. You peeled away the tissue paper to fully uncover the lacy lingerie. There was no ass or crotch in the lilac panties, merely a series of lacy straps and a bra to match which could barely conceal your chest. A knock came at your door.

You stood but it opened without awaiting your answer. Steve let the door fall open and you stared at him as you held the pale bra. He smiled and crossed his arms. 

“You opened it.” You tossed the bra on the bed and stepped back. “Oh sweetie, let’s not play this game.”

You looked to the lingerie strewn on the bed and gulped. You should’ve locked the door. Why hadn’t you locked the door?

“Go on, change. I’ll wait out in the hall,” He coaxed, “I just…I like surprises, don’t you?”

He slowly backed out and closed the door. His weight shifted the wood as he leaned against the other side. Whether you did what he wanted or not, he’d come back in and make you. He had crafted the situation so well. You couldn’t say no, even if you could’ve found your voice.

It was two minutes before you found your wits. You looked down at your bathing suit and shook your head. You peeled it off and let it pool at your feet. You stepped out of it and untangled the purple panties. You pulled them on, though it was no easy task to figure them out. The bra was easier though it offered just as little coverage.

You peeked at your body. The top of your breasts propped up by the underwire, only the top of your vee hidden by the lace. A gentle tap came at the door. “You okay, sweetie?”

You flinched. Your shock slaked away and you forced your feet across the room. You couldn’t muster words, only opened the door to reveal yourself. He backed up and looked you up and down. He grinned and took your hand.

“You look amazing, sweetie,” His other palm tickled your side. He turned you down the hall and led you to the top of the stairs. “Come on.”

“Wh-where are we going?” You whispered.

“I meant it when I said I wanted you on that counter,” He tugged you down the steps as he descended on ahead of you. “I’ve been thinking of it since that first morning.”

“Steve…” You came to the bottom and planted your feet, “I…” You heart raced and you could barely hear yourself think.

“You don’t have to be scared,” He reached up to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “I won’t hurt you. Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head and looked down. He cradled your face in his large hand and pushed your chin up. He bent to kiss your lips. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, we’ll keep it slow.”

He walked backwards and led you into the kitchen. He pushed the dimmer up halfway and turned so that you were ahead of him. He guided you backwards and stopped you just beside the island. He leaned in and kissed you again. This time he pressed his tongue along your lips. You opened your mouth and let him explore. You’d never been kissed like that.

His hands grazed along your sides, from shoulder to hip and back again. He tickled your waist and gripped it firmly. He lifted you without drawing away. He slid you onto the counter, your legs hanging over the marble as he pushed between them. He buried his hand in your hair and dragged his lips from yours.

He bent as he kissed and nibbled along your jaw and neck. Then your shoulders and teased along your collarbone. He cupped your tits as he kissed the top of them and pushed his face between them. He nudged you back so that you fell flat against the counter top. 

He slipped the straps of your bra down your shoulders and pulled the cups past your breasts. You untangled your arms as he took a nipple in his mouth and the lacy bra slipped further down your torso. You shivered and he reached up to caress your cheekbone. He held your head in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb along your jawline.

He tended to you gently with his mouth. Pinched your nipple firmly with his other hand and you moaned. You were on fire at his touch. Your mind was a storm of shame and lust. You shouldn’t be doing this, but it felt so nice.

His hand continued down your body, along your stomach to trace the line of your panties. His finger delved past the lace to your exposed pussy and he ran his index over your clit. You twitched and he did it again. Your body responded without thought.

His mouth followed his hand and he got to his knees. He pulled you closer to the edge and hooked your legs over his shoulders. He replaced his finger with his tongue and you sighed. You clapped your hand over your mouth. You were shocked at your own pleasure. This was Kylie’s father; a man twice your age. It was so wrong.

His tongue chased away your doubts and you pushed your head back into the marble as he danced around your clit. He delved between your folds with his index and middle fingers. He dragged them along your pussy as his mouth played with your bud. Your wetness mixed with his saliva and he hummed.

“Sweetie,” He drew away just slightly and looked up at you, “You taste so good.”

You closed your eyes and covered your face with your hands. He reached up and tugged at your arms. You let your hands slip down and he guided them to the back of his head. He went back to work with his tongue and pressed his index to your entrance. He pushed inside just a little and you gasped.

He entered slowly and you trembled. His tongue eased the pressure and he moved his finger in and out. An odd sensation began to bloom. More intense than before. He added another finger and curled them inside of you as he toyed with your clit. Your legs tensed around his head and you latched onto his gold and silver hair.

You arched your back as the wave washed over you. So sudden, so sharp that you cried out and clung to him desperately. Your orgasm left you breathless and weak. He slowly pulled out as he raised his head. He licked your cum from his lips and fingers as he stood.

“Wasn’t that nice, sweetie?” Your head lolled back and forth as you crossed your arms over your body. The afterglow held you in a senseless haze. “It was, wasn’t it?” He cooed and began to unbutton his shirt.

You counted your breaths as they slowed and your vision cleared. He dropped his shirt to the floor, then his shorts. You peered down at him and removed his underwear with a smirk up at you. He stood and stroked his cock as he neared. You closed your legs and he softly touched your knees.

“Come on, sweetie, was that so bad?” He tickled your thighs, “Don’t you want more?”

You bit your lip and spread your fingers along your chest. You couldn’t look at him as you nodded and let your legs fall slack. He pushed between them and you shivered. The tip of his cock poked at your pussy and you lifted your head to look down at him.

“It’s okay,” His cock slid over your pussy as he bent over you. He slipped his hand beneath your head as he kissed you and his other hand ventured down your body. He pulled away and whispered. “Just a little bit of pain, sweetie.”

You pressed your palms to his chest as he rubbed his cock along your pussy. You could feel yourself getting even wetter. He groaned and lined himself up and you inhaled sharply. He kissed your cheek and pressed his lips to your ear. 

“Are you ready, sweetie?” He asked but didn’t wait for your answer as he slowly pushed inside. You whimpered as he entered you. Only a little before he paused and caressed your temple with his thumb. “Just breathe and relax. Remember.”

You closed your eyes and grimaced as he continued. There was a moment of resistance as he got further in and sudden pang. You yelped. 

“Steve,” You grabbed his shoulders and pushed on him. “Ugh, Steve,” You begged, “It hurts.”

He stopped and pulled out until only his tip was inside of you. He shushed and pushed in again. “Just a little more,” He said softly. 

He stretched you terribly as he went even deeper this time. You dug your nails into his shoulders as the tears pricked at your eyes. Your breaths were loud and thick. You were almost choking on the pain as he brought himself to his limit. He stilled and you whined through gritted teeth.

“You’re so tight, sweetie,” He wiggled his hips and you groaned. “Fuck.”

He eased out of you and you shook. He thrust back in, just as slow as before but it still hurt. He repeated the motion several more times, each easier than the last. Your arms slipped around his neck and he kissed you. His lips smothered yours as his pace grew steadier. The agony dwindled and soon you felt the familiar warmth. The pain was but an echo in the distance.

“There,” He said as he leaned his forehead against yours, “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Y-yes,” Your voice was small as your chest hammered. “Ahhhhh.”

“Yeah?” He picked up his pace just a little, “You like that, sweetie?”

“Y-y-yeah,” You clung to him and his head fell down next to yours. 

You moaned in his ear as you brought your legs up around his back. He got even deeper and you cried out. He went even faster but the ache was overwhelmed by the heat flowing through you. He thrust into you again and again and again. He never wavered, only sped up until your sweaty back glided along the marble.

You hugged him to you as he plucked at your nerves. They twisted to a point and shattered all at once. You exclaimed as you orgasmed once again and he groaned in your ear. His motion grew erratic and he pulled out suddenly. His hand pushed between your bodies and he stroked himself until his cum spilled onto your thigh.

He held himself up on his elbow as he looked down at you. His eyes were smoky; dark. He broke your embrace as he stood and glanced down at himself. His pelvis was streaked red. You blanched and sat up quickly. You peeked at the counter between your legs, his cum and your blood sticky along the marble.

“Aw, sweetie, let’s get you cleaned up,” He turned and grabbed a dish towel from a drawer. 

He wetted it beneath the faucet and returned to you. You stared down at the mess in shock. Had you really just done that? He wiped the blood away tenderly from your thighs before cleaning himself. Lastly, he sopped up the mess on the counter and tossed the cloth in the trash.

He came close again, his hands on your hips as he lifted you from the counter. He cradled you in his arms as he carried you through the door and to the stairs. “There’s a few more things I need to show you, sweetie…” He climbed the steps slowly. “We’ve only go tonight.”

...

END

-

tags to be added in reblog

[thechosenferret]

Home

Prompt: Draco is thrown out of the manor, but not specifically for being gay, or for his views; his father just sees him as a disappointment. From @secretlycrazyhummingbird

Let’s just ignore how long it’s been since the prompt was sent,,, but Thank you for the prompt, it was a joy to write!

Read on AO3

__________

“What in Merlin’s name was that, Draco?” Lucius’ voice boomed over the manor walls as Voldemort circled around the pair of them before finding a spot behind Lucius where his gaze can harm both at them at once. “First, you fail potions, then you get an absence, and finally you couldn’t even correctly label Harry Potter. I don’t know how you became such a disgrace, but I am very disappointed in you.” 

The world got fuzzy again.

“My lord, you can’t throw him out, he’s just a child,” Narcissa whispered, failing to be out of earwith from Draco. 

“He’s old enough to be responsible for what he has done.” 

The world faded to black.

[More under cut]

~-~

Draco sprung awake, allowing himself a bit of calmness after seeing that all his protection charms were still up and running. It was only the beginning of his second day out on his own, but Draco had already had that wretched memory cycle through his head too many times to count with each repeat deepening the wounds. 

Against the silence of the night, a few hours before the birds are set to be awake, Draco’s stomach made its displeasure with his situation very visible. Thanking Merlin for remembering to put up a silencing charm, Draco grabbed an apple and scoffed it down as he cleaned the leaves out of his head and packed up all his items into his bag, which didn’t take long at all- just a blanket, and an old shirt that he bunched up into a makeshift pillow. Not after long, Draco took all his charms down and set off through the forest again. 

After that dreadful night, he wasn’t really sure where exactly he was going. He just had to find anywhere but the place he once called home. The only option left was to keep walking. With his mother’s wand at the ready, Draco continued into the darkness.

~

The sun had finally gotten halfway across the sky when Draco came to a halt as he could swear the sounds of the forest were playing a trick on him. Finding the nearest cover behind a bush, Draco waited as the sounds got closer and closer. More familiar. Way too familiar. 

“The tent’s got to be around here somewhere, Ron. I’m sure it was next to the weird shaped tree.”

“Maybe there were two weird shaped trees?”

“Two trees that look like a guy holding a bag, I doubt it.”

“Harry, we probably should have chosen a better marker.”

“You think?”

The voices continued to circle around the trees for a few minutes longer before disappearing without a trace. 

Deciding that it would be smarter to plan out his next course of action while still near people, even if he was still fairly sure that his mind was just trying to find ways to trick him, rather than just wandering around, Draco waited behind the bush, trying to think about the next possible steps. 

Before he could finish planning, a slow, heavy crunch of leaves dragged Draco out of his mind and back into reality. Gripping his mother’s wand, he peeked through the little hole in the bush that only gave a very slight view of the other side, which wasn’t much help when the sound of leaves disappeared in the same hidden area as before. 

~

“STAY BACK!” a voice popped out of the silent bubble, making all the birds in the area scatter as fast as possible. Joined again were those heavy crunches of leaves, followed shortly by the familiar voices. 

Draco peeked through his little hole, and when it failed once again to show anything more than a hand, Draco surrendered some of his coverage and opened up a hole in the bush a bit more. He could still only see half of what was going on. Barely peeking around the corner, he could see a wand hopping between pointing at two different wands. The first owners wand was about in Draco’s blind spot, the only thing he could see was a slight bit of a black sleeve. The other two wands were being held by Ron and Harry, who both looked a little worse for wear, especially with Harry’s untidy hair somehow being even more tangled. It’s a true mystery of the world how that is even possible, Draco thought to himself. Draco could only assume Hermione was just out of view having to deal with another person. 

I’m sure they can handle this, Draco thought as he peeked through the small hole, trying to calm his beating heart before it gave away his presence 

After a few moments of waiting for someone to return back into view, a dash of Hermione to the tent followed by a screech gave away their failure. Peaking way too much around the bush, Draco could see Ron jumping on the back of one of the guys and Hermione throwing一both magically and physically一everything she could to distract the other snatcher who happened to be carrying a still slightly awake Harry under one of his arms. As the guy became unfazed to Hermione's best efforts, he started to apparate away, leaving Draco no time to consider how idiotic his next possbile moves were.

Draco ran out of his hiding spot, determination yelling in his eyes as he barely managed to grab onto Harry’s sleeve and join in on the journey. He could hear the yells of the others fade away as the sound of complete silence took over. 

As soon as his feet hit the floor, Draco pulled at Harry's sleeve as hard as he could safely do before wrapping him up in a more protective case than a hug, and swatting at the guy's feet in a desperate attempt to loosen the man's grip on Harry. Finally after grabbing his wand and doing the only smart thing with it一poke the guy all over with it一he snatcher finally loosen up just enough for Draco to pull Harry out and into his arms. 

As slightly more common sense was able to get into Draco's brain after the huge rush of adrenaline, Draco pointed his wand at the attacker, staring him down as realization drew on the man's face right before he apparated away.

With the threat gone, Draco looked around at the miles of pure grass around him, which happened to contain not a single clue as to where they were before the apparation and now.

"Hey, Potter, how are you holding up?" Draco asked when Harry looked like he was finally coming back to reality while still being supported by Draco's shoulder. 

"I've been better," Harry mumbled out.

"I'm gonna try to lower you to the ground, okay?" Harry did his best to nod his head as they started to sink slowly to the ground. 

Everything was fine, that was until they reached the floor where Harry happened to figure out that his knee didn't bend very well- or at all. Draco helped pull up the bottom half of Harry's pants to reveal Harry's knee, which looked a little worse for wear. Around the knee, there was a layer of blood with little bits of the pant's fabric stuck in it. The actual knee was no better, looking like it had just had a horrible adventure in hell.

Using some of the tricks he learned from having to stay at the Manor all his life, Draco cast a few minor healing spells just to keep it safe for the road. “Come on, let’s get going, I can apparate you back.”

“No.” Harry stated, pulling his arms from it’s position on Draco’s shoulder. “I can handle a simple apparation.”

“Not with that leg you can’t. Doctor’s orders.”

“How do I know that you won’t just bring me straight to Voldemort!” Harry practically exploded back, “You just happen to be there in time to grab me, and you just happen to be kinder than usual.” 

“Well, maybe I can’t go back!” Draco shouted out the words before he could realize what he said. Draco looked back up at Harry’s stunned face as the fire slowly faded from his green eyes. “Let’s get going. I’ll apparate us.”

Harry paused for a second before putting his arm back around Draco as he was helped up from the ground with his pants freshly rolled up. Draco tried to settle down his heart again, the poor thing hasn’t had a break in ages now. 

"You good?" Draco asked, waiting for Harry to slightly nod his head in agreement before feeling the familiar, nauseating sensation of apparition. When they finally landed once again, in the very far distance they could hear a rhussel from something large, hopefully just Hermione and Ron, but it was their best guess. Draco had hoped that his apparition would of been a little more precise, but he was at least confident they were within walking distance of Harry's tent. 

Harry tried to take a step in the direction of the noise, before swinging his foot right back next to Draco's as he realized just how little support his hurt leg could actually hold. 

"Can you make it back?"

"What do you think, genius?"

Draco sighed, "I may have an idea but you gotta trust me on this, okay?" Draco barely waited for Harry’s reply before he scooped Harry up in his arms, holding him off the ground, letting his leg stay raised as it draped across Draco’s arm. 

~

It would have only taken a few minutes to get back at the tent with usual walking capacities, but with Draco insisting that Harry shouldn’t try to walk, the trip took close to a half hour. The journey only arrived at the end when suddenly a bubble popped up in front of Draco, sending him flying back into the forest like a bullet before finally stopping against the bark of a tree, and leaving Harry more-or-less fairly unharmed inside the once bubbled area.

Draco could barely get out a single word before he was face to face with Ron’s wand as Hermione helped Harry up off the floor.

“Huh, who would have guessed your anti-Draco charm would actually be useful,” Ron sneered, making sure not to let Draco out of his sight as Draco put his wand away, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as it moved, and got as close to the tent as he couldn’t without being thrown again.

Harry took his wand out of his pocket and, for the first time, muttered the charm’s antidote. 

Draco sighed. “C’mon, are we just gonna stand around and stare or should we get Harry’s leg fixed?”

Draco followed Hermione as she helped Harry onto a bed inside the now visible tent, taking a seat on the bed a few feet away as Hermione dug in a little bag and began to treat Harry’s wound. 

~

Once Hermione finally left to help Ron get food while mummering something about a pair rule of exploring did Draco finally begin to inspect his arm.

After a few slightly concealed breaths of pain, Harry finally noticed. “You idiot, couldn’t handle me having more attention so you got hurt too, huh?” 

“Yea no thanks to you and your charms,” Draco sneered removing one arm from his shirt so that his top hung on him like a sash, allowing the injury to be out in the open. “What, no comeback? Still mad the snatchers stole all of your attention first?”

“Please, if anything they took some of the pizzaz out of your appearance.”

“Are you saying that my entrance wasn’t glorious, guess saving is just another Wednesday.” Harry grabbed the least bloody washcloth next to him and did a mini jump from his bed to Draco’s, careful not to let his leg move too much as he propped it back up on the small amount of room left on Draco’s bed. “Why in Merlin’s name was that charm up in the first place?” 

“You’re always around somehow, so I figured I should put it up out here just in case. Guess I was right after all.” Draco reflectively coiled back as soon as Harry touched the washcloth to the still bleeding spot, the coldness of the water deciding to slightly drip down, freezing the rest of his shirt along with the wound. 

Once Draco’s shoulder was all bandaged up and Draco released a “small” info dump on Harry, Harry finally piped up again, “There’s something I’ve been wondering since er- that day. Why did you not tell your dad that it was me?”

“Trust me, I’m still trying to figure that one out too.” Draco looked away, feeling his face warm up a bit. “I guess something in my head knew where my priorities should really lie.”

“Well, thanks. I was starting to actually worry about the chances of us all dying there.”

“You only had just figured that part out?” Draco tried to chuckle, “Wow, you really did need my help.”

“Oui, come on.” Harry’s smile faded as another thought popped up in his head. “There’s one last thing that I can’t figure out… How did you end up here?”

Draco looked down at his hands, watching as he forced them out of their tense state. “Let’s just say that my father didn’t think that any person siding with you should continue living in his house.”

“I’m. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“Don’t be.” 

“I am. Truly.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand from his good arm, “This can be your home for now, if you’d like.”

And it was.

_______

Tag list: @queenzora @ohheavenlylord @bipizzapringle

[ngendo]

Birthday Flex

*Text first published on 23rd March 2021 on Facebook.*

Dear People, Thank you so much for the birthday wishes. It's very strange to try to celebrate while there is so much hurt in the air, streaming through our blood, burying itself between each, single, breath. I know three people who have lost loved ones this week, and it's Tuesday. Because of them and so many others, I celebrate the fact that I am still here. That I still breath, that I still get pissed off, that I continue to march on wards to (and hopefully through) 40, that I can complain, that I can lay on the grass in my garden, go for walks in the evening, drink tea, cuddle with my lover, play football with Chairman, harvest mint between giggles with my niece. I MUST celebrate that the things that prickle my skin and make my blood boil, can only do so, because I am here. Being angry is part of being alive, and knowing, that we DESERVE better WHILE we are here. Here. Not tomorrow, not in an afterlife unseen. HERE. I am grateful to be alive on this beautiful, hectic, violent ass planet. Violent, because we made it so. I am grateful to be aging because the other option is to be gone. I am grateful to have anger coursing through my veins, because it means that sometimes I find enough courage to erupt, to burn, and to say NO FUCKING MORE. The liberation to be a woman and to burn so bright that people fear your voice, but cannot come to your face and silence it..... ahhhhh, it's like eating cool chunks of pineapple in the afternoon sun, until my tongue stings. To be an African Woman that can shout my truth and only receive whispers in the wind from those who prefer my silence.... to KNOW that I have brought fear to those who willingly oppress others daily..... it is the scent of freshly cut strawberries saturating my nose.   It is the fruition of my toil.   I wish that all of us could experience this at least once in our lives, for it is simply being a human. Being allowed to occupy space. That is it. Daily, we operate in fear, silenced in advanced by doctrine, by tradition, by manhood, by whiteness, by the patriarchy. Fuck all that shit. Burn Bissshhhh. Burn. My anger is born of LOVE. >Love for my people. >Love for Afro women carrying too much weight on their backs, while foreigners with lenses exoticize the length of our necks, and our male counterparts pontificate about our resilience with opaque ideas of 'tradition'. >Love for my LGBTQI people ducking and diving between shadows because our society worships a white god that banished Blackness and ALL African sexuality, into aberration. >Love for the people who service our middle class asses daily but every damn time one of us tries to get them better salaries, the neighbourhood committee throws mountains of paperwork in your face to keep poor people poor. (Note for anyone who is economically marginalised, DO NOT trust the Kenyan middle and upper class. We're too busy imagining we can become millio-billionaires while using the Bible to justify your poverty. At any chance you get, throw us overboard.) > Love for the fucking effort it takes just to speak your truth despite knowing that some of your friends will feel the need to inform you that they  as a person living in white skin (especially the ones in Europe) KNOW the ultimate and only legitimate complete alpha and omega truth about being a Black person. (Fuck right off by the way. Cheers.) > Love for all of us surviving Christianity through complete cultural erasure and the severing of ourselves from our own Black bodies and tongues, even when we cannot name that emptiness. > Love for all of us relegated to even lower depths of the hierarchy because we were born with not a penis nigh! >Love for us additionally ostracized for being the parent that stayed. (Single moms where you at!? ) > Love for all of us who silently cry NO MORE even as society uses our bent backs as a foundation for the institutions that oppress us. Growing up, I was repeatedly told that I as a girl should be quiet, I should sit with my legs close together and cover myself up, I was told it's not nice for me to be angry, or to swear, nice girls don't move their hands about when talking, nice girls don't shout. I was told, "Women don't have muscles" even as I could tense the rippling sinews on my abdomen and form a juicy waru on my arm. Anger is perhaps the greatest muscle we were taught to never flex. It was smothered into the most silent corners of our ever silent bodies. But our anger is bright and buoyant and fucking beautiful. While others are allowed to tear through nail salons, and churches, and communities, and races, and entire continents, and their psychosis is celebrated as conquest and empire, or noted as depression and 'having a bad day'...... Our rightful and justified anger has been silenced from our very first cry at birth. The rage of women, could turn this whole world upside down, inside out. This woman has muscles. This woman swears. This woman sits with her legs open when she fucking wants. This woman has sex. This woman takes shits. This woman writes poetry and paints pictures. This woman makes films, and my films are fucking legit. This woman loves herself. I love myself. I love myself over and beyond the conditional respect and allowances you may grant me. They are not important to me. I have no love for your rules and regulations set to limit my freedoms. If this hurts your sensibilities, try loving yourself instead. In any case, IDGAF. Happy New Birth Year to me. Happy Re-Birth to all the women I know. We must burn today, because we won't be here tomorrow. We must burn today, because otherwise, when we are gone our only legacy will have been our subservience; kneeling as a stepping stone for the dreams of others. We must burn today, because that subservience will be celebrated to oppress those that come after us. Women. Burn. May our collective anger over run the shackles that contain us. Heck fucking yeah!!

[evabellasworld]

Death of Mandalore

Chapter 10

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

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Summary:  After murdering Chancellor Palpatine of the Galactic Republic, Vanya Doyvesky joined leagues with both Death Watch and Darth Maul, hoping to reclaim her Mandalorian warrior heritage. But with broken promises and betrayal against Death Watch and Maul’s crime syndicate, the former Mandalorian Jedi had to choose the right path not only for her but for Clan Doyvesky as well.

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Carrying a tray of hot porridge and a cup of water, Vanya entered her cell and saw the Duchess contemplating the walls, with her hair loose. “Your meal, your Highness,” she knocked, as she showed her courtesy and placed them in front of the door. “It’s freshly-made in the kitchen.”

“I’m not hungry,” declined Satine, as she turned around, making Vanya avoid eye-contact with her.

“Well, just in case you are, I’ll be leaving them here,” insisted Vanya. “Besides, when was your last meal?

Her eyes pried. “You seem wounded tight, soldier. Are you alright?”

“I should get back to my duty,” she avoided her questions, averting from her. “I can’t keep my master for waiting too long anyways.”

As she shut her cell door, Satine got up, leaning closer to the glass. “I know you don’t want to do this,” she blurted out.

Vanya stopped dead in her tracks, her lips feeling dry. She was at a loss for words. “You’re a Jedi Master, am I right?”

“How did you know?” she stammered, shifting her focus towards her.

“That’s what Maul referred to you,” Satine told her. “I was aware that he freed you in exchange for giving you power on Mandalore. Is that true?”

“Well, he also promised me to avenge my sister’s death by killing Vizsla,” Vanya included,  bobbing her head. “I admit that he’s sketchy but at least he delivers his promise, unlike the latter.”

“Vanya, dear, do you actually want all of that? A Jedi never lusts for power and violence.”

She’s not lying, she clutched her fingers together, her lips pressed. “Regardless of that, at least my family has better treatment now.”

“But at what cost? You’re distanced from your parents, let alone your own sisters.”

“My sisters are fine,” Vanya riposted. “I get to spend more time with them than when I was a Jedi, who was bound to the dogmatic rules that discourage their followers to form a loving relationship with one another.”

Satine exhaled, reminiscing of her time with her former lover, realising that she cannot convince her. “Just be careful, alright? Your sisters can’t afford to lose another family member.”

Without saying a word, Vanya gave her a deep bow and headed towards the lift, leaving her alone. She was aware of the Duchess’s relationship with her younger sister and seeing them not getting along with each other saddened her. She could never imagine cutting ties with her own siblings, let alone her whole family.

Is this what I really wanted? she doubted herself, a drop of paint splattering on her chestplate. Is Vasilia really proud of us?

Staring at her Mandalorian helmet that she gained from Maul, Vanya reached for the brush next to her and gently painted the rim of the visor in crimson to complement his skin colour, and the lives of the people that he claimed with his blade that was forged from pure hatred.

The Doyvesky’s colour, on the other hand, was emerald green, which matches the colour of the crops that were ravaged by war and violence surrounding them. Though Mandalorians were once proud warriors that forged through the storm, they were also farmers, artisans, actors, and peacekeepers, just like the former Duchess.

Noticing her vacant stare towards her armour, Katrina and Maria exchanged a brief look with each other before the latter cleared her throat and tugged her sleeves, catching her attention. “You alright, Vanya?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm alright,” she nodded, as she put down the brushes, before taking a larger one. “I'm just thinking about what to paint on my armour, that's all.”

Katrina raised her eyebrows. “I'm pretty sure Maul wanted the colour scheme to be the same. After all, we're supposed to be a unified army.”

“Well, I never liked the colour red,” Vanya shook her head. “They look like-”

“Yeah, we get it,” she interrupted. “Red is the colour of blood. It leaves a stain on crops and grasses, just like what Mama used to say.”

“Why can't we just colour our armour based on our clan? It's the Mandalorian way.”

“Like Bo said,” Maria spoke, her cheeks stained with red paint. “Maul's an outsider who claimed the throne of Mandalore from Vizsla.”

“Since when do you agree with Bo Karen?” Katrina puzzled. “You never even like her in the first place.”

“I don't, but she does have a point, though Mandalorian culture believes in adopting others from different worlds, which Death Watch do not practice at all.”

“Yeah, they only take the part of the law that they like,” Vanya agreed. “Like murdering people and burning their village to the ground.”

“True, though Maul isn't a better option either,” Katrina clarified. “After all, he's letting a bunch of crime families help run Mandalore and the Underworld.”

“How do you know that?” Maria asked, nonplussed.

“That's what Maul literally said to us earlier while we were in prison,” she slapped her own forehead. “Besides, Almec agreed to it through formal documents with his cabinet.”

“He picked his administration already?” Vanya gasped in an exaggerated manner, covering her mouth. “Oh, do tell us.”

Katrina looked left and right as she gestured to her sisters to lean closer to her. “Okay, so from what I've gathered so far,” she began, in a hushed tone. “The people of Mandalore have no contact with the others outside the planet.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Maria voiced underneath her breath. “You mean to tell me that the HoloNet isn't accessible to them?”

“Unfortunately yes, but that's not all. While domestic communications are allowed, their transmission is monitored, meaning the government is watching every move of the citizens twenty-four seven.”

“But hold on,” Vanya raised her finger. “That's not freedom, that's just-”

“Authoritarianism and dictatorship,” Katrina finished her sentence. “Maul and Almec are running a police state.”

“You know, I never realise Satine's government were great until we overthrow her and replaced them with a fucking dictatorship,” Maria considered, stroking her chin. “But that doesn't really mean that pacifism works one hundred percent though.”

“The only reason why it didn't work was because of us,” Katrina enunciated. “I mean, we were the ones who hired those things in the first place just to make Satine look incompetent.”

Vanya wiped the back of her neck, before taking a breath. “Okay, so what's our plan? How do we get out of this mess?”

“We could go back to Mama and Papa, just like what Vasilia wanted,” Katrina gave her a reminder, shrugging.

“Impossible,” Maria disagreed. “Maul might kill our entire family if he finds out.”

“Yeah, that is true,” Vanya breathed. “Anything else that doesn't involve death?”

“Fine, we'll go along with our duties like before and see how it goes,” Katrina suggested.

“You di'kut,” Maria cursed. “The last time we did that, Vasilia was murdered by Death Watch.”

“Yeah, and we figured that Death Watch wasn't our thing.”

“I hate to admit, but that's our only option right now,” Vanya gave in. “If we act now, Maul will not only have our heads, but our families as well so for now, we'll go back to our duties, and then when the time comes, we can execute our plans, alright?”

Maria let out a frustrating groan. “Fine, whatever. Let's just hope we have better options after this.”

[pogie-style]

The new girl in the Cut: JJ Maybanks

Authors note: second time writing on tumblr, not sure if this is any good but it might end up into a series I write. Just thought this was me and to see if anyone likes it ☺️☺️. Going to write a lot more if anyone wants to join this journey. Also, got this gif off of Pinterest credit to the owner.

Warning: light cursing and my terrible writing

Summary: a new girl moves in to the outer banks knowing no one. Just her for the summer for a project. Little does she know who she’ll meet.

She drove an old good looking Jeep Compass steadily down the road in front of her. The gps telling her exactly where to go on these unfamiliar roads. A small miniature dauschound sat in her lap, paws on the steering wheel loving the long ride, and a high rising pit bull sat in the passenger seat with a holey box under he’s feet. Her car was jam packed with stuff.

Finally She came to the destination after a long road trip, a boat ride, and another trip in the car. An older looking house loomed in front of her. This was her project this summer. Well this whole new for her island was her project for this summer. She already had a job for her here and this house but that’s about it. She knew nothing about this place. She knew no one.

Her mom though this was a good idea for a freshly new 18 year old with too much baggage. To get away from home for a summer to work on a family owned house in the outer banks.

She turned off the car, hooked on leashes, and opened my door. The small dog, Romeo, hopped out, than she stepped out, and finally the bigger dog, Koda. They started making their way to this new house. The porch door squeaked harshly but otherwise everything was sturdy. With the key She was giving, She opened the front door and welcomed her new life.

Within a week, she had figured out her plan for this old run down shack, gotten a job at the hardware and feed store, and started a game plan. With the money she had saved over the years and money her mom gave her, she started fixing the old house.

The first day, she went the job interview and bought paint supplies. She also saw a really good looking guy tape up a sign. Someone was offering lawn service.

‘Perfect’ she thought. She couldn’t cut grass due to being allergic to grass. So she took one of the stubs. She had also fixed an appropriate chicken pen. In the box was her three prized chickens that she loved.

The second day, she woke up and went to her first day at work. 6 am to 6 pm. A full day of training. All she wanted to do was calapse on the old mattress in the only room in the house but she didn’t. She got to work on the house.

The third day, she did the same thing. And she followed that routine for the next three days before having a day off that Sunday.

One week in a new life and the only people she meet were customers and her co workers. No friends yet and, to be honest, she wasn’t so sure she wanted any friends either. She was so sure work was gonna be her new routine.

That Sunday she texted the number on the stub she took that Monday. Little did she know.

JJ Maybanks woke up at the Chateau, like normal. The put out couch was he favourite bed to sleep on. The other option was he’s own bed at home, and that just wasn’t as safe as the one he slept in that night. Plus he was 18, a legal adult capable of figuring out where to sleep.

He lazily checked his phone to check the time, 10:47. He also got a text from a stranger. Weird, last night wasn’t a kegger so no new fuck buddy wasn’t expected. Instead of that, he got a hit on one of his signs around town.

The text read “the sign said this was the number to call or text for lawn service, right?”

‘Sweet’ he thought ‘another Kooks money’ so of course he responded. He told this stranger he would come out, look at the yard, say a price, and mow it. The number agreed and set up a date for next Tuesday, claiming to be off of work that day.

That caught him off guard a little. What Kook worked? But none the less, he took the job needing the money.

She had took off Tuesdays for house work. She was so close to being done with painting the inside of the house. It took forever to clean it enough to do anything in the house she determined to be a shack. But today she was gonna finish painting the inside of this damn house.

She was so determined to finish this house and start on staining the porch that she forced herself to woke up at 7 in the morning.

“Come on puppies” she yawned and swung her legs over to the side of the bed. The dogs followed her everywhere she went until she placed food in their bowls and got together her breakfast of iced coffee and toast. Than out in the yard, the dogs got to used the bathroom and the chickens got their breakfast plus some clean water. The girl greeted each chicken

“Good morning, willow.” She smiled at the golden bigger chicken. “Good morning, Murphy” she petted the fluffy black chicken and finally “good morning Louis” she bowed to the black and brown rooster. Each watching spoke to her through a bunch of clucks.

She parted from the chickens and called the dogs in. She was getting to work. Finish the door ways and doors. The open windows gave great lighting and a breeze to the stuffy shack.

JJ cursed himself as he looked at the time. It was gonna be hot as hell and he was going to mow a lawn. Glancing at the address again, something stuck out.

“Yo, John B” he called over his friend near by “isn’t this an address in the cut?”

The taller brunette look over the address. “Oh yeah, that’s like right up the road.” He paused before asking “why do you have this address?”

“Someone asked me to mow there”

“Oh, I think someone new lives there or something. I saw a chick there with a sick car. You would have thought she’s from figure 8”

“Oh you mean the new Jeep riding around the island? With the blue logos and stuff?”

“Yeah that’s the one”

The boys continue to bantered about theories of the girl. Why would someone with a sweet car be living in the cut? Why would a lone girl move in to the Abandon house at the end of the street?

The conversation soon stopped and JJ made his way to the house with his push mower.

Already sweating by the time he got there, he cursed that he didn’t do this earlier in the morning or just showed up really late. He also cursed whatever God or Gods their was that he couldn’t swindle more money out of a kook today.

The house was old, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone was in this house until now. The windows were opened and JJ couldn’t help but look. This chick was hot. An old tank top and shorts showed off her body. Her dirty Blonde hair was pulled back.

Making his way to the door, he knocked, than noticed it might have been a mistake. Dog barks flooded his ears. He heard someone else “enough” before the barking started. Than suddenly the door was pulled open.

“Oh hello” the girl smiled friendly. She was obviously new around her. He knew everyone around these parts and had never once seen this girl. Dark blue eyes shined at him though. She was obviously friendly.

“You texted me about mowing” he stated lamely like he’d never done this before. She noticed his blonde hair first. It was messy but a good messy. She decided it fit his style of a muscle tank top, shorts, and converses. She wanted to be a smart ass in the moment and ask if he was here to mow or here to skate. He looked like a straight up skater boy. But she held her tounge.

“Um, yeah. I did” she mental cringed at her lame response but her anxiety started kicking in. ‘Stupid, so lame’ she scolded herself.

“Well I’ll charge 40 bucks. It’s not that big of a yard.” He state finally looking away from her and towards the yard. Honestly he would have charged anyone of his regular clients 60-85 bucks for even mowing half of their yard but something stopped him.

“Okay, let me get that for you” she dispersed for a second, going into some side door. Leaving the boy in front of a wide open entrance to her house. Though he didn’t step in. Just merely gazed.

He took note how the walls were freshly painted a light blue/grey. The floors seemed extremely clean. Very minimal furniture in what seemed to be the living room. Just an ugly looking couch, and a brown tv stand holding up the oldest tv he’d ever seen. He could also see the small kitchen from where he stood.

Before he took notice of anything else she walked back out.

“Here you go, and here’s a water bottle. It’s getting hot outside.” She handed him some cash and a water. He counted the money.

“Oh, you gave me an extra 20” he started to hand back the extra money.

“I know what I paid you” she refused to take the cash. “I’ll be outside working in a little bit, so don’t be alarmed. Oh and the chickens will be scared of the lawn mower but will love the extra grass you end up blowing at them” she smiled again.

“Oh um...” he scratched the back of his neck in slight embarrassment before sticking out his hand “I’m JJ Maybanks.”

Her smile got wider as she shook his hand. “I’m Finley Kate”

[destiel-love-forever]

Fireworks & Falling in Love

Castiel

“Dean! Come here!”

I look in the same direction as Sam, wondering which one of these people could be his brother. I nearly gasp when the man working the grill just a few feet away looks up. He’s not who I expected.

Not at all.

Whereas Sam is a complete nerd with his sweaters and his books and his green tea, Dean is… damn. Dean Winchester is sex on a god damn stick. He’s wearing low-hanging shorts and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with no shirt beneath. Tattoos swirl around his skin, covering one leg, his left arm, his left shoulder and pec, his back, his right shoulder, his right arm, and his right ribcage. The ink brings his muscles out in high definition.

I’m pretty sure I could spend the rest of my life just watching this man work a grill and I’d die a very happy man.

Things just get worse when he starts toward us. The sun shines through the tips of his hair, making it nearly glow. Freckles are scattered along his nose and cheeks. And his eyes….

His eyes are breathtaking. One glance sends me spiraling back in time to when I was a small boy, lying in the freshly cut grass on a warm summer day. I can almost feel the breeze on my face despite the fact that there’s no wind today.

“This is Cas,” I hear Sam say from a distance. It takes effort, but once I manage to force myself to look away from Dean’s eyes, I come back to my senses.

“Sammy’s roommate, yeah.” Dean wipes his hand on the apron before offering it to me. His smile is dazzling. Bright white teeth. Soft pink lips. They’re glistening as if he just licked them. I wonder what they taste like. I bet they’re good. I bet they’re damn good. “It’s great to finally meet ya.”

I open my mouth to say something polite but what comes out instead is, “You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss.”

I’m not sure what’s more awkward in the following moment. Perhaps the way Dean’s eyes widen and his head tilts like he’s unsure of what just happened. Maybe the way Sam chokes on his own spit beside me. Of course, there’s the fact that my face is so hot that I know it must be bright red.

Or, above all, it could very well be the fact that I’m still holding Dean’s hand.

I twist my wrist with the intention of breaking free but Dean just tightens his grip.

He’s recovered now. I took him by surprise, that was clear, but the man has bounced back. The smile he gives me is even more charming than before with just a hint of mischief in it. His calloused thumb runs along the curve of my finger and I’m very proud of myself for not whimpering like I desperately want to.

“You would like to kiss me,” Dean assures, his voice dipping low with lust. “I’m an excellent kisser.”

“I-” I nearly swallow my tongue and shake my head.

I don’t have 'game'. Like… at all. Never have. There’s a reason Sam and I are best friends. We both would prefer hanging out at our off-campus apartment together reading books and drinking tea than hitting a party. We’re both virgins. We’re both dorks. We go to comic con and play D&D.

We do not flirt with the Dean Winchesters of the world.

“Question is,” Dean continues. “Are you a good kisser, Cas?”

“I - well, um…” I glance over at Sam to find that he walked away.

Walked away! Can you believe that? Just abandoned me with a sex god that’s looking at me as if he wants to eat me alive! The audacity.

I am 100% messing up his alphabetized bookcase when we get back to school.

100%.

“I didn’t mean it,” I blurt out, feeling my face getting even hotter - something I didn’t know was possible.

“You didn’t mean what?”

“The… the kiss thing.”

“You didn’t mean it, or you didn’t mean to say it out loud?”

The knowing smile he gives me, as well as the one step forward so that our bodies would be pressed flush against each other if our hands weren’t in the way, lets me know Dean is fully aware of which one of those two options is the truth.

“You’re Sam's brother. I can’t kiss you.”

It’s weak.

He laughs.

“Sammy’s been in love with my best friend Gabe since the kid popped his first boner. He doesn’t get a say.”

Gabriel.

The infamous Gabriel.

Yeah… I’ve heard all about him.

Shit, shit, shit.

“In fact,” Dean whispers in my ear, crushing our joined hands against our chests. “That’s where he just went off to. He’ll be following Gabe around like a puppy all night, so we’re free to do whatever it is you’d like to do, Cas.”

I’m unable to answer.

Instead, I just close my eyes and pretend I’m not here.

After a very mischievous yet dark chuckle - one that sends shockwaves through my entire body - Dean steps back and lets go of my hands. I open my eyes to look at him, praying that he can’t see the grief I’m experiencing at the sudden loss.

“I’ll see ya around, Cas.”

“I - uh.” He turns around before I can formulate real words, heading back to the grill. A friend of his comes up and hands him a beer before the two of them start to bullshit. Dean laughs.

He doesn’t look over at me.

Not once.

“Yes,” I finally manage to whisper, even though it doesn’t matter anymore. “See ya around, Dean.”

Dean

I don't see much of Castiel after that first encounter but I'm not too concerned. From what I've heard from Sam, alongside the one interaction I've had with him, he's probably off hiding somewhere. I let him be most of the day, focusing on my friends instead. We take the boat out on the lake. We jump off the docks and swim. We play yard games. We build a bonfire as the sun goes down.

It's when the fireworks begin that I go to find Castiel.

Just as I had hoped, the boy's guard is down as he stares up at the display in the sky. It also probably helps that he's climbed onto my damn roof. He probably thinks no one will find him up here.

He startles when I come to sit beside him and I immediately put out my hand to keep him from falling. The look he gives me in return is unimpressed. It's an interesting shift from the flustered boy from before but I have to say I enjoy both versions. This one seems riled up and haughty.

I start to plot ways to make him blow.

"Wanna kiss me yet?" I tease, looking up at the sky instead of him like I could care less about his answer.

I should care less about his answer. There's no reason for me to suddenly be so hung up on one guy when I could have my pick of men, women, or non-bi's at this party.

Truth is - though I'd never admit it - I haven't hooked up with anyone in 7 months. Yeah, you heard that right. Dean fucking Winchester hasn't been laid in 7 fucking months. I've been actively avoiding any and all scenarios that would lead to a night of no strings fun this past year. It sounds cheesy, and the old me would roll over in his imaginary grave if he knew, but I'm just… over it. I'm over getting wasted every weekend. I'm over going home with people I can't name. I'm over sneaking out after they've fallen asleep to avoid any awkwardness in the mornings. I'm over eating breakfast by myself.

I want a partner. Someone to be there when I'm watching movies on a rainy night. Someone to listen when I talk about something funny that happened at work. Someone to cook dinner with as we laugh and dance to music on the radio. Someone to hold at night.

I realize that Castiel still hasn't answered me so I elbow him and ask, "What, not interested anymore? I'm hurt." I put a hand over my heart for emphasis.

He side eyes me before returning his gaze to the sky. "It's bad enough I made a fool of myself in front of my best friend's brother who I'm probably going to end up seeing more than just today. You don't have to ruin my entire 4th of July, too."

"Ruin it?"

"Yeah. I'm mortified. I'm sure you've told all of your friends." Castiel looks at me and my breath catches in surprise. Tears are in his eyes. "It's my first 4th of July where I get to be normal. I've never seen fireworks before. Please, just… just leave me alone, okay? I get that taunting the nerd with a crush is fun but-"

I cut him off by grabbing the back of his head and quickly guiding his mouth to mine. A word or two is swallowed up between us before he fully registers what's happening. He tenses for half a second but just before I can pull away to apologize, he knocks me over so I'm on my back and starts kissing me like his life depends on it. It's sexy but adorable. I'm entranced by him as he mauls me like a wild animal but does it with such clumsy moves that I know for sure he's inexperienced.

I stop him when his hand goes to my belt, rolling us back over so I'm on top of him. After a glance over my shoulder to make sure we're nowhere near the edge of the roof, I look down at him and smile softly. "One hell of a kiss there, kid."

He glares but a smile ghosts across his lips. "I'm not a kid. I'm only a few years younger than you."

"I stand corrected. That was one hell of a kiss there, young man of a considerable age." He laughs and it might just be my new favorite sound. I run a hand through his messy curls and ask, "Why have you never seen fireworks before?"

"My dad. He's a veteran and hates them. My family spends every 4th of July at the movie theater. You can't hear them in there."

I nod in understanding, thinking of my own father binge drinking every 4th of July. Though, John Winchester takes almost any excuse to binge drink, so that's not saying too much.

Just as I'm about to suggest we watch the rest of the show together, everyone starts to clap and cheer. It's the only noise in the air. The fireworks are over.

"Shit." Guilt starts to swallow me up. "I'm an asshole. You missed the show."

"It's okay… they come every year. This is-" he pauses and looks away, his cheeks pinking up enough for me to see in the darkness. He finishes - "Once in a lifetime."

"Doesn't have to be."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Sam says you never tap the same ass twice - your words, according to him."

I flinch. "That's not me anymore."

"You're just saying that to get in my pants."

"Trust me, Castiel. I have no intentions of getting in your pants tonight."

He seems to consider me for a moment before carefully nodding. “Okay.”

“Though, just to go on record - since I’ve been trying to work on communicating with friends and family better - you look like someone I’d very much like to sleep with one day.”

Castiel laughs softly. “That line sounds strangely familiar.”

“I heard it earlier from a guy that I’m starting to really like.”

“Is that so?”

“It sure is.”

“Maybe-” Castiel pauses and looks over to his left. At first I don’t know what he’s doing but then I hear the same thing he must have.

Someone is calling my name.

I look down at Castiel again, not wanting to leave him.

“Guess you have to go, hey?” The sadness in his voice makes my decision very easy.

“No.” I kiss him again. Slowly. Thoroughly. Against his lips, I whisper, “I don’t wanna be with whoever that is. I wanna be here with you.”

Castiel laughs nervously. “You barely know me.”

“So... let’s change that.”

                                                             ----                                                                

Exactly a year later, back up on that same roof, Dean Winchester proposes to Castiel Novak. At the very moment Castiel says yes, the firework show begins. They miss it again. How could they not? Castiel can’t help but make out with Dean in celebration until their lips go numb.

They miss the show the next year when they get a flat tire on the way to the 4th of July party at Sam and Gabriel’s house.

The next year they’re on their way to the beach to watch it with all of their friends when they get the phone call from their adoption agency. A 7 month old baby boy and his 3 year-old big sister were orphaned. They wanted to know if the newly married couple were interested in them.

They’re convinced their fifth show will be the lucky one. Then their son Jack has a meltdown just minutes before the show starts, hating the earmuffs they were making him wear, which set off their daughter Claire into a tantrum about her ‘stinky brother that ruins everything.’

The following year, they start their own tradition. On the 3rd of July, after receiving a permit from Sheriff Mills, they have family and friends over for a party and set fireworks off the end of the dock over the lake. They aren’t as large as the professionals, and there aren’t as many since those things are damn expensive, but Castiel still stares at them like they’re the best thing in existence.

Castiel never loses that sense of wonder. Every year that follows, when they have their 3rd of July party and firework show, he stares up at the fireworks like it’s his first time seeing them.

What Dean loves even more, though? The moment when the show ends, smoke filling the air and people clapping, when Castiel turns his head and looks at Dean with a goofy grin. Dean swears in those few seconds every year, they’re back on that roof again, two idiots that had no idea what a beautiful, messy life they were about to get into.

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[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 3+4}

(Kat)

I’m doing chapter four also since chapter three is so short.

I hate this book thoroughly.

But here we go.

Briefly after I fell asleep that night I had a dream about Abbi,

Please don’t go the way I think this is going.

it was the first dream I had experienced in some time. I'm not normally the type of person to be deeply impacted by dreams as more often than not I can control them. I can recognize the fact that I'm in a dream and twist things around so that whatever is making me afraid becomes afraid of me. This tactic however could not possibly work in this soon-to-be nightmare, as there was no living monster waiting around the corner. There was no emotion in this machine that was about to reveal itself to me. I could only watch without a physical form. I was just a helpless spectator in my own mind.

Okay so that was actual word salad.

The dream began without any sound; only a deep hum accompanying what appeared to be Abbi laughing in a field of what looked like gray grass from a far. As my view of her revealed more detail I began to realize that what I thought was grass was actually long slender claws.

So this girl is just...

In a field of claws?

Experiencing a more alarmed spectrum of emotion, the audible hum cut out and was replaced by Abbi's screams. The sounds echoed bouncing off the walls of my mind splitting me in two and engulfing the core my being.

I’m so fucking confused.

She was not forming any words in her screams and I began to understand why the more I analyzed every detail. I shifted my perspective to a new angle. I was now above her looking down and could see the claws were pulling her into the ground. She showed no resistance to being dragged into the ground, she didn't even cry for help, she would only scream in pain as she slowly sank beneath the surface. I began to distinctly hear blades and gears violently turning just beneath her.

I cannot fucking picture this happening for the life of me.

It's difficult to explain, but in her eyes I could see she didn't want to be saved as she genuinely felt she had earned the suffering she was enduring.

Edgy as fuck, okay.

She believed she deserved to be ground up until there was nothing left. Once she was pulled completely under I was finally given a physical form in the dream. Dropping from above I landed on the soil she disappeared in. I immediately dropped to my knees and began digging with my bare hands to get to Abbi. I was only inches deep before the ground ripped open forcing me to jump back.

Okay uh.

I have no valid words that could express how I feel right now.

A deep canyon began to form central to where I had begun digging. The splitting and groaning quickly gained momentum. Ripping and screeching sounds erupted all around me as the earth divided before me at a now crippling rate. A hellish sight consumed my eyes as I looked down on the collapsing landmass below. Powerful machines wielding massive blades swung violently scraping dirt and rock with a sound so tremendous I could only faintly hear the screams of countless desperate humans below.

This is just.

Not okay.

I quickly realized the terrified voices beyond the ripping blades were no illusion.

But this is a dream.

Which means it’s an illusion.

Thousands of lives were being devoured in piles, no person among them begging for life rather, like Abbi, they screamed only from pain delivered not just by the roaring blades and gears, but their very existence itself. Suffering & consciousness had become one in the same.

You are not poetic.

Shut the literal fuck up.

I then woke up to my room filled with sunlight, but it could not change the darkness my dream left me with. I felt something inside me change, almost as if I had seen something I was never meant to and now had to find a way to lose the thick cloud freshly looming over my head.

I hate you.

It is as I said briefly before, I feel like a visitor here, like I'm in this world but not a part of it like everyone else.

Shut up, you pretentious asshole.

I study people and situations to find out how they work and sometimes my dreams fill in the emotions and thoughts I missed while I was awake.

Yes, so you’ve said, in a very creepy non-human way.

Not having to go to school that day due to my suspension I decided to write a letter to Abbi.

Cool. Awesome. This won’t be cringey at all.

It read:"When I look in your eyes... I at times feel a level of sadness I have never felt, as if we, despite barely knowing each other, have been apart for far too long.

Excuse me, that’s incredibly creepy.

When I talk to you it is like I am listening to a voice I've ached for yet haven't heard in a lifetime. Every other experience I have with you seems familiar but at the same time, it hurts, like you would feel if you begged for something and only received it when you had already given up hope.

More word salad.

These feelings are all so strange and evolving at a rate that scares me as they are for someone I am only just now truly getting to know.

Even with my brief presence in your life I've picked up on so much suffering and almost feel powerless to create any change.

This is so alarming and creepy and you need to stop.

There are so many wounds, so many scars, so much I only know enough about to fear. I'm trying to understand. Abbi, you have more pain in your life than I can imagine. I hear it in your voice, I see it in your eyes and in the way you move. I just want to see you smile without there being an ocean wall of tears behind your eyes. I want to hear everything you have to say. I want to find a way to heal the damage done until you can forget it ever existed.

THE ONLY FUCKING PROPER REACTION TO THIS LETTER IS TO MOVE TO ANOTHER CONTINENT.

I sent the letter to her email address, moments later the phone rang. Answering the phone I heard Abbi's voice on the other end.

"Hey, can you meet me at the Quick Shop?" she asked.

I responded, "Did you see my email?"

She replied "Nope, why didn't you just call?"

I said, "It would've been really hard to say over the phone, I had to find the words."

She replied, "Ok, I'll look and then I'll head over."

I then confirmed "Sure, see you there".

Yikes.

Shortly after, I got dressed and skated over to meet her. I arrived quickly, thanks to what seemed to be a record speed for me. However once I arrived I found myself waiting for someone who now had no intention of meeting me. I could only assume I had just made myself look like a huge jerk to her. I attempted to call her from the nearby payphone and she didn't answer.

What did you expect? That she wouldn’t find that fucking creepy?

As I skated home, in my mind, I went through the letter I wrote over and over. I began to blame myself, concluding based on her absence that I must have dug too deep too fast.

I scared her away because I reacted on the emotions I experienced in that dream before actually considering the human being on the other side of the letter.

Yeah, at least you’re fucking self aware for once.

I felt like I was just about finally connect with someone only to ruin everything at the last minute.

That’s your own fault. Don’t bitch about it.

Okay, chapter 4.

My suspension had been lifted and I had just arrived back at Lakewood High. Approaching my history class I could hear people snickering as they watched me walk by.

Someone screamed "Wuss! Learn how to fight!" behind me but I just kept walking.

I feel like I’ve read shit like this before.

Oh.

Yeah, it reads like any angsty Wattpad story ever.

As I sat down in class Mr. Hanson walked up to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke under his breath so others would not hear "Don't worry about the work you missed, ok James?"

It would be preferable that you didn’t use ‘ok’ instead of the word ‘okay.’

But this is terrible, so I don’t have high expectations. I don’t know what I expected.

I looked up at him and he gave me a slight smile. I suppose it's because he felt bad that I was beaten up shortly after trying to get Jason to leave the class alone. It was a lucky break too considering Mr. Hanson's class was one of the few I didn't stop by to see what work I would miss before beginning my suspension.

No. No. That isn’t this teacher’s job. He needs to grade something, and if James didn’t do the work, it would be immoral to put good grades in the grade book when this is the case.

I approached the art trailer feeling panicked over what to expect. I hated that I said anything to Abbi, that I overstepped my bounds and acted like I knew her when I was only going off my own dream-influenced emotional intuition.

Intuition my ass. That dream means nothing at all. Shut your pretentious mouth.

I felt a conflicted hatred towards myself for jeopardizing a relationship with someone that was so important to me.

MY FUCKING GOD YOU’VE HAD THREE CONVERSATIONS WITH HER.

If she did give up on me, I could only blame myself.

Yes. You can.

Opening the door I could see Abbi wasn't inside, instead there were just pieces of my bear sewn to pieces of her bear sitting on her desk. Maybe I was reading too far into what it meant, I could really only hope that there was something left to us that I could sew back together.

If I have to read another bullshit waxing poetic thing, I’m gonna scream. My eyes are already glazing over.

Walking closer I could see something sticking out just beneath the bear.

It was a note that read: "James, meet me behind the church when you get this."

Immediately, I thought of the church neighboring Lakewood High.

I find it bullshit that James was immediately able to figure out what church Abbi meant when she didn’t even specify which church she was talking about.

I stuffed my backpack inside the desk

Your backpack fits in a desk? Either the desk has a large compartment, your bag is nearly empty, or your bag is very small.

I’m going with the last option because it’s the funniest.

and quickly made my way off campus to meet Abbi.

You left your bag in class and just left?

What is wrong with you?

As I approached the church there was a strong forceful wind blowing behind me that made it feel as if I was being pushed to her by nature itself.

I really hate you pretending to be deep, Onion.

I felt like a fool for thinking that, I'm far too unimportant for any significant force to consciously influence my life. I walked around the church only to hear Abbi say loudly "James!" I turned to see her standing under an overhang that reached out from the church.

That is called an awning.

I walked over to her and began to apologize for the letter, but she cut me off saying "Why did you write that to me?"

A valid question.

I responded "I wanted to separate myself from everyone else in your eyes. I wanted you to know I was trying to understand you, all of..."

She interrupted "How messed up do you think I am James? How screwed do you think my life is exactly? Because if you had any social skills, you might know that saying to someone what you did, is... I'm not damaged goods... I'm not broken!"

Her voice was giving out as she began tearing up. "I'm sorry... I was..." I said, helplessly watching tears fall down her face.

This is a confusing and mechanical interaction.

"I was wrong... but I'm here, and I will be as long as you let me." I said.

She wiped her tears and struggled to speak. "The reason you saw what you did, in my eyes, my voice..." she continued to struggle as she cried "You saw the bruises from my ex, but you wanted to know everything."

You two have known each other for two fucking days. Like, you’ve only spoke four times now.

She paused to wipe her tears again. I listened carefully as she continued to speak "James... I haven't been beaten just one or two times..."

I would care more if there was any buildup to this moment or any character development that would make me like this girl.

But there isn’t.

So I feel nothing while reading this, and that is both incredibly boring and unfulfilling, as well as genuinely kind of creepy.

The fact that this does not evoke emotion in me when I should be feeling some form of empathy instead of the apathy I feel disturbs me.

Abbi said as she looked at me as if every word was agonizing for her to say.

I would like to know why she’s telling this to a guy she barely knows.

With tear soaked eyes she continued, "I've been violated beyond that James... by people who called me their friend, people I trusted took advantage of me and that killed so much of who I am... who I was."

I am so concerned that I don’t feel anything here. Are you guys feeling anything?

Her face was consumed with stress, her body shook but she managed to continue, "My mother abandoned me and left me with my father who doesn't even care if I live..." before she could finish I wrapped my arms around her.

She dug her fingers into my back as she pulled me closer and cried into my chest.

As we held each other I said, "You were never damaged, only changed. Any part of you that you think died is just hidden, waiting to come out when it's safe..."

I want to actually die.

Abbi squeezed me even tighter.

I continued, "Every time I see you, you become more beautiful to me than before."

She gripped me more tightly than anyone ever had. She was finally hearing everything she wanted someone to say to her and I was saying everything I wanted Abbi to hear, that is, most everything.

Okay, cool.

I just... This is such a gross fetishization of abuse? It makes my stomach twist. I also feel strange that I can’t feel any form of emotion for these characters beyond annoyance.

It actually bothers me deeply.

This is the opposite effect you want to have on your readers, Onion. you want your characters to be relatable and real so your readers can connect with them and feel something for them. Well written characters are ones you can get attached to.

These characters are poorly written, which is why I cannot relate to them or get attached to them. I’m not saying I’m any kind of master at writing characters, but Abbi has no personality of her own other than the fact that she’s an abuse victim, and the fact that that is all is concerning. I don’t even know what she looks like.

James is the most pretentious, condescending narrator in the world and it makes me physically recoil while I read from his point of view. He is nihilistic, bleak, creepy, and very flavorless. He’s boring as all hell, and again, I don’t even know what he looks like.

Does Onion just forget to describe his characters? It makes it very hard to visualize anything with them.

Okay. I’ll see you guys in chapter five.

This book is actually repulsive.

~Kat

[myaekingheart]

The Hazards of Love

Part 4: The Confrontation

@naruto-fantasy-week Day 4: Japanese Folklore (The Crane Wife) [Kakashi Hatake x Rei Natsuki (OC)] Sometimes fate has a funny way of bringing people together. And sometimes Mother Nature has a funny way of ripping them apart. [Inspired by the Hazards of Love by The Decemberists] read on AO3  CW for mentions of character death. 

               Across the forest, a brooding figure stood lying in wait. She drummed her long fingernails against the stub of a tree trunk, freshly cut down by those in the village who did not respect her work. The village, a monument of industrial greed. Kaguya seethed.

               She watched from afar as Kakashi cradled his lover, the consequence of their sins blooming inside her womb. Their perceived privacy was only a ruse. There was no such thing as privacy in the woods. Not when Kaguya herself was the forest embodied. Every crack of a twig, every nesting bird, every trickle of the river, was as natural to her as the blood in a man’s veins or the caress of a woman’s hair. And now here he was, her chosen son, defying her by welcoming such a vicious intruder into her home, her body.

               Rei settled against Kakashi’s chest, thinking of everything he had told her of his life, his curse, and his mother. “Do you think I should meet her?” she asked abruptly.

               Kakashi paused, thought for a moment. “My mother?” he asked. Rei nodded. A nervous energy fell across Kakashi that he tried hard to mask, but to no avail.

               “I mean, I think it’s only right” Rei continued. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that you and I are having a child together, and yet I haven’t even met your family?”

               “Well…” Kakashi began, deliberating. “Don’t forget she’s not really my mother” he finally replied. He would have much rather introduced Rei to his father’s grave, the tiny congregation of stones by the river where Kaguya claimed his body was found. That was his true family. With Kaguya, there was a certain level of caution required. Kakashi made great effort in concealing the true nature of their conflict from his pregnant lover, for better or for worse.

               Kaguya was not stupid. She knew full well what Kakashi was doing. His disrespect, his little white lies, only furthered her fury. She turned to a sigil of a sandhill crane kept within her living quarters and balled her hand into a fist. Had Kakashi not remembered? Had he forced himself to forget the village’s sins? The memory of his mother’s sacrifice burned at the back of her throat. And she, the forest itself, took such pity. Perhaps her debt was not worth the price.

               It had been twenty six years since Kaguya made the deal. It was Aijo who caused her inevitable downfall, whose own selfishness had rendered the forest queen as acting mother. Aijo, the otherwise docile and compliant crane. It was the men of that very village who had nearly killed her, an arrow to the wing keeping her grounded. Kaguya could still her hear pleading, the way she insisted that the man who healed her was not like the others. That when she appeared broken and bleeding on Sakumo’s doorstep, he was nothing but gentle and affirming. She was so annoyingly desperate, Kaguya had no other choice but to grant her wretched humanity.

               Sakumo was unaware that the woman at his front door was that injured crane, but he could feel the sense of familiarity in her presence. The charm of her smile, the tenderness of her touch. They wed almost immediately, and sooner still she fell pregnant. But raising a child was expensive and Sakumo had little money. The village was unforgiving to their situation, trapping them in the throes of its competitive finance. They had few options and so when Aijo offered to raise money by sewing fabulous silk clothes, Sakumo had no right to refuse. She only begged that he leave her alone completely as she worked, oftentimes locking the door behind her. Sakumo swallowed back his curiosity and concern.

               For a short while, they were successful. Aijo’s work became renowned within the village, and even outside of it, and she made quite a fine living because of it. As word of her work spread, however, the demand grew and the darkness of humanity began to emerge. Sakumo had grown wildly proud of his wife’s work but money made him blind. He encouraged her to work harder and faster, drunk on the possibility of comfortable living. His greed, however, left him unaware of his wife’s declining health. With each passing day, she grew thinner and weaker until a rigorous, premature labor eventually took her life. When she passed, all that was left behind was her screaming son and the corpse of a crane. They named their child Kakashi.

               When Kaguya heard of Aijo’s downfall, her heart shattered into a million sharp, dangerous fragments. She cursed herself for ever letting Aijo into the world of men, for ever giving humanity the benefit of the doubt. In her fury, she compelled Sakumo to enter the woods with the child. He did as she commanded, wandering through the forest guided by an inexplicable magnetism. As he went, the leaves rustled quiet cruelties, singing hypnotic hymns of self-hatred in hopes of diminishing his self-esteem. Come morning, his body was limp by the river. The baby screeched and squirmed, now property of the forest. It was the least Kaguya could do in reparation for Aijo’s death. She refused to let this child face the same violent fate. To see him so happy now, so intoxicated at the hands of that wayward girl made her sick. Something needed to be done and fast.

               Kakashi brushed the hair out of Rei’s face as she dozed off against his chest. In the distance, however, someone grew ever nearer. Mother.

               “I can hear you” Kakashi spoke into the ether. The figure paused behind him, a few feet back.

               Kaguya clenched her fists at her sides. “At least you can hear something” she snarled. “I was afraid my warnings had fallen on deaf ears, but it’s nice to know this is merely a case of selective hearing.”

               Kakashi gently slithered out from beneath Rei, resting her head on a downy patch of clover. He prayed he would not wake her. He looked to his mother as he knelt beside his beloved, repositioning her in the soft grass. “Is there a reason you’re here, or did you just come here to brood?” he asked.

               Kaguya squinted her pearly eyes at him, furious. “Don’t act so smug” she threatened. “I know what you’ve done, Kakashi.”

               “And what is that?” he asked. Now he was really testing her patience.

               With fists clenched, Kaguya floated nearer to loom over Rei. Kakashi instantly grew tense and protective. “It’s pitiful to think I wouldn’t notice” Kaguya said, motioning toward Rei’s belly. It took all of her strength not to gag at the sight. “I hoped I had taught you better than this.”

               “What crime have I committed by loving someone?” he said, glaring up at his mother. “She took care of me and in turn, I’m going to do the same for her. And this child.”

               “And what about what I’ve done for you?” Kaguya asked, her voice rising an octave in her anger. “Have you forgotten what these men did to your father?” she then asked. She refused to tell Kakashi the truth. Blaming Sakumo’s death on the villagers was far easier than explaining the tragedy of his mother, the Crane Wife. “Have you forgotten that you’re sleeping with the enemy?”

               “No” Kakashi insisted. “Because I know I have nothing to be afraid of. Rei is not like the others. She may have come from the village, but she’s not one of them.”

               “That’s what they all say” Kaguya seethed. “You’re committing suicide and you haven’t a single clue. She’s seduced you with this lie of hospitality and affection but is nothing more than a manipulative succubus!”

               “Mother” Kakashi snapped. He refused to stand here and listen to her slander his beloved. “I’m sorry you feel the way you do, but this changes nothing. I am committed to her.”

               Kakashi’s stubbornness left Kaguya swooning. She covered her face in her hands and sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t believe you would do this to me” she cried. “After everything I have done for you, and this is how I am repaid?”

               It was clear to Kakashi that she was intentionally trying to make him feel guilty. It was not that he was ungrateful—of course he wasn’t. He owed so much to Kaguya, but now it was her turn to owe him. Kakashi deliberated for a moment before presenting his proposition. “Then give me just this one night” he requested.

               “Absolutely not” Kaguya immediately replied. “I will accept nothing less than her death.”

               “Her death?” Kakashi asked in mild disbelief.

               “It’s for the best” Kaguya replied flippantly.

               Furrowing his brows, Kakashi loomed over Rei with glorious purpose. “Then you’ll have to kill me, as well” he sneered. It was a loaded statement. He knew she could never bring herself to murder her precious son. Kaguya recoiled, offended. “But if you give me just this one night, I promise I’ll return to you in the morning” he added, his voice much softer now.

               Kaguya cocked a brow, considering his offer. “Do you swear?” she asked.

               Kakashi rested a hand upon Rei’s belly, never breaking eye contact with his mother. “On my life.”

               To swear so boldly, deep down Kaguya was somewhat impressed. Sighing, she gave a single, definitive nod. “Fine. I will allow it” she finally said. “Just one night, and nothing more. But know I am not happy about this.”

               Kakashi could hardly fight the smile on his face as he replied, “I wouldn’t expect you to be.” Truthfully, he was mildly skeptical of her allowance but at the same time, he did not want to tarnish the moment with doubt. If she was allowing him this night, then he would accept her gift without question.

               He watched her depart with a newfound sense of peace, settling in beside Rei as she began to stir. He brought her hand up to his lips to kiss her fingertips, press her palm against his cheek, feel the warmth of her touch. By the position of the stars overhead, he presumed they only had four more hours before sunrise. Four more hours before he would have to depart. He wanted to drink in every moment with her should seeing her again become difficult. All the while, he considered alternative plans. Once she woke up, he would need to outline the details of their escape. He intended to keep his promise to his mother but just because he would return to her at sunrise did not mean he was going to stay. No, he would give her a taste of his compliance but in the back of his mind, he was considering and calculating. Rei was the key with which he could unlock this cursed cage. She was his future, his hope. Together, they were on the cusp of something great and terrible: the beginning of the rest of their lives.

               But Kaguya was not stupid. She knew Kakashi had only given her hollow promises. He saw the way he loomed over Rei, that protective stance, and the overwhelming love in his eyes. She would give him just this one night but as she returned to her hollow, she was concocting a sinister plan of her own. Come morning, all hell shall break loose. Guaranteed.

[ladyofpurple]

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

[clownsgobeepbeep]

Wonderland

This is long overdue and I feel bad for not having posted this earlier, so I might as well post it now since I will take a while with the other parts(I have two others that are almost done, just need to edit them and all)

Here I present the sixth part of my story. Not exactly important like the last part, but it gives you an idea of what’s going on 

Things are not what they seem to be...

Part Five /// Part Seven

She came awake in the darkness and laid there, eyes shot open as she scanned the area around her.

She reached up to touch her face in a panic, her head soon following after and then her body.

She gave a sigh of relief as she felt that everything was perfectly intact, shutting her eyes for a moment while basking in the moment.

Ula was safe, no traces of harm were on her as she hugged herself and felt that all was alright.

“Fuck...that was such an intense dream.” she whispered to herself before opening her eyes and turning to the side to where her window was. With yet another sigh of relief, Ula removed her blankets from herself and climbed off her bed, approaching the window to open the curtains that made her squint her eyes for a moment.

“Wait…” she whispered to herself, then turning around as she adjusted her eyes to the new light and blinked a few times until she felt that at least her eyes were fully awake. Scanning her bedroom she then gave a squint, something felt off...extremely off…

Right then, Ula gave a groan before bringing a hand to her head that stung with pain. As she attempted to handle that, her doorknob jiggled before the door itself opened, Ula still holding her head as she turned to look at the door where somebody stepped inside.

“Look, I don’t care alright? You get me those flowers like I told-” the new person stared at Ula’s now empty bed, their hand lowering the cellphone they had been speaking into as their eyes trailed over and onto Ula. “-you...to…”

“Mom?” Ula blinked at who was Jelly, her mother looking at her with wide eyes as a voice called her on her phone. “Mom? Are you okay? You look as if you’d seen a ghost. Wait...my voice-”

“Oh my stars.” Jelly dropped her phone before bringing her hands to cover her mouth. “It..it...it’s you!”

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“You, you, you- I-”

“Jelly-Bean?” another voice sounded before Ula saw a man walk in. “Jelly-Bean is everything- Ula!?”

“James!? What are you doing here?” Ula exclaimed before holding a hand to her lips. “Why do I sound like this? Why are you here? Where’s my dad!? Where are Davey and Cordelia!?”

“Did somebody call my name?” a child asked before the pair and Ula saw a boy poke his head into Ula’s room, the latter of the the three having her eyes widen as she noticed that he had chocolate hair like James’ as well as his hazel eyes. But then, another head popped in, and then a third, all three of them giving a gasp before speaking in unison as Ula noticed how identical they were.

“Ula! You’re awake!”

“Who are you!?”

“Ula, Ula darling please relax.” James carefully stepped towards Ula who shook her head and backed away. “Sit down and let us explain-”

“What the hell is going on here!?” Ula walked and stood behind a chair as she began to panic, everybody else noticing this. So, the boys, who she realized were triplets, ran over to her before stopping in their tracks as she shoved the chair in front of them.

“Ula, if you could just listen to us-”

“Wait, a-are you two m-m-mar-”

“Ula, of course we’re married.” Jelly interrupted before taking hold of James’ hand. “We’re your parents, we just need you to sit and calm down so we can explain what happened-”

“No! I am not listening!” Ula yelled at her mother who flinched back, James now comfortingly holding her. “This is some weird nightmare that I’m going to wake up sooner or later from! I-I-I don’t know how it’s happening, but I’m gonna wake up and, and everything will be normal again!”

“Ula, wait!” James shouted before Ula climbed out through the window behind her, landing on soft, freshly cut grass before she noticed that the surroundings were far too different. 

This wasn’t where she lived, especially not with James or those three boys...this had to be a dream, a nightmare...where was her dad and siblings?

“Ula!” she heard behind her, so Ula opened a rabbit hole in the ground, diving in before making sure to close it up and run as fast as she could underground.

Eventually she stopped and looked up, waving her arms so that another hole was opened and she climbed up into it. Ula now found herself in between some bushes, hiding as she now poked her head out and looked into the distance, knowing that she was in the park. Her eyes scanning everything they could as things looked...normal...yet...very, much, off.

“You alright there kiddo?” a voice asked Ula, prompting her to turn around, opening her mouth to speak as she was in shock with the slightest bit of relief mixed into it.

“I...I...I…gra-gra-grandpa?” Ula breathed out before the man before her made a bit of a weird face, a clown with rather silly hair.

“Gr...grandpa? You looking for your grandpa?”

“You-” Ula trembled before stopping herself, tears coming to her eyes as everything was quickly proving to be too much for her and her voice grew to be a sort of wail. “You’re….you’re…”

“I’m…?” the clown blinked in surprise yet also concern, reaching forwards the place a gloved hand on Ula’s shoulder to at least comfort her. “Hey, relax. You-”

“No!” Ula backed away, turning before she ran off and left the clown, alone and bewildered as he held onto balloons in one hand.

“What is happening!?” Ula exclaimed as she rushed through town, finding anything or anybody that would be more than familiar. At the same time however, she wasn’t sure if finding somebody was her best option considering the few encounters she had so far.

“Ula?”

Ula whipped around, nervous that this would be her mother or the others she had seen in her room, but Ula felt as she released a sigh of relief.

“Ula? No fucking way, you’re-”

“Uncle!” Ula exclaimed before throwing her arms over her uncle Cosmos, holding him rather tightly. “Oh Uncle, I’m so glad to see a familiar face! At least one who’ll know things!”

“Ula, how...your mom called me, she’s worried sick.” Cosmos hugged Ula back before they pulled away from each other. “Hey, look, come into my business. I’ll give you a drink or whatever you want.”

“B-business?”

“Yeah, the 80’s one, remember?”

Ula gave another sigh of relief as she held onto her uncle who lead her through the sidewalk until eventually reaching a building that Ula recognized. It looked exactly the way she remembered it. They both walked inside and Cosmos briefly greeted an employee before taking Ula to one of the booths, the employee following right behind.

“What’ll it be Mr. D’Vitt?”

“Anything specific you want?” Cosmos turned to Ula who shrugged while shaking her head. “Get me a peanut butter sundae.”

“Yes sir.” the employee nodded before leaving, Cosmos and Ula now alone as she hugged herself.

“Ula, I need you to explain to me what happened. You’re too...tense.”

“I woke up...ad I saw my mother, and-and James, and three boys who looked like him, and, and then my grandpa…” Ula panted out before Cosmos embraced her, giving her some pats to calm her down as best as possible. “I-I-I...I don’t know what’s, what’s going on!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Cosmos shushed Ula before she buried her face into his chest, Cosmos now stroking her hair. “It’s okay, just relax, okay?”

“Teddy Bear, what’s going on?”

Ula froze for a moment, then slowly removing herself from Cosmos to turn as see a woman who stood by the booth they were in.

“Oh my-” the woman then covered her mouth to contain a gasp. “Ula! You’re awake!”

“What did you call my uncle?” Ula stared at the woman with wide eyes.

“T...Teddy Bear?” the woman responded as she was still feeling some shock. “Ula, you-”

“Where’s Uncle Vespers?” Ula turned to Cosmos who made a weird face. “Where’s Phoebe!? And Orion and Hunter!?”

“Phoebe? Ves…” Cosmos furrowed his eyebrows before Ula replied with a shaky nod. “Who’s...who are they?”

In an instant, Ula removed herself from the booth to stand in between it and the woman nearby, eyes constantly darting between her and Cosmos.

“Who are you?” Ula pointed an accusing finger at the woman.

“Ula, it’s me. It’s-”

“Your Aunt, my wife.” Cosmos interrupted before he left the booth to embrace the woman, then turning to her with a tiny smile. “It’s alright, they said this would happen. She’s-”

“She’s not my aunt!” Ula shook her head. “My only aunts are Maggie and Belinda!”

“Who?”

Ula turned and made a run for it again, ignoring as the pair called out to her from behind. The entrance doors flew open before she pushed through people who were about to enter the building, ignoring as her name was called over and over again. She didn’t really bother to look where it was she was going, only following her instincts to where she knew she could be alone. And so, Ula dropped to her knees, falling onto a soft, fresh soil before looking up to her surroundings.

Trees. Little animals. The sun’s rays peeking out through the leaves up above and shining down on her in an angelic like manner.

“What is going on?” Ula wept into the nowhere before standing up, the tweeting of birds following right behind her as they and the other creatures attempted to soothe her. “I don’t understand...This has to be something of Ryder’s…”

The girl made her way through the forest as a bird landed on her shoulder, nuzzling into her cheek before she used a finger to pet its little head. A bit of relief came to her as she noticed that the forest was exactly the way she remembered it, it was actually quite comforting.

She eventually walked by a grove, one filled with all kinds of roses. Yes, thank the stars this was still here. Hopefully nobody had managed to find it, especially considering the current circumstances.

Ula sighed before a small smile came onto her features; she reached out to touch one of the roses that still bloomed ever so beautifully as was a bright red color. Then, she spotted another rose, this one a little bud that was very close to blooming, yet it was clear to her that it was having a difficult time doing so. Leaning down, Ula gently placed her lips on the bud, watching as it shifted a bit, petals opening up into a small rose that made her give a chuckle. Anything to distract her right now.

Once done with that, Ula made her way through the grove until reaching a wall of flowers, one nobody would ever go through because it merely wasn’t possible and it was on a large rock structure. Or well, at least that was what Ula made it seem like.

She looked for the whitest roses, sticking a hand between them before moving what was basically a curtain, then walking inside to be met up with yet another angelic ray of sunshine, shining down right on the area where she walked to before carefully falling to her knees and then side. Ula ran her fingers through the grass before rolling onto her back to then feel a flower fall onto her nose.

A soft smile now grazed Ula’s features as she gave a sigh. She knew and sensed that many, many things were still very much off...but for now...she wanted to have a bit of peace. Especially alone.

But then-

“Ula?”

She jolted up with wide eyes, too  afraid to turn and see another one of the people she had interacted with, or ones she would soon have to talk to before they confused her further. But, she then realized only one other person knew about the small wonderland she currently was in.

“Ula, oh shit. I...I can’t believe you’re...oh Ula-”

“Schrader! You, your-!” Ula clasped a hand to her mouth as Schrader stood at the entrance of her hideout; he was complete, no head missing. “Schrader! You’re alive!”

“Well, of course I-” Schrader gave a bit of a yelp before he felt Ula throw herself onto him, giving him a rather tight hug as he looked down at her and gave her an awkward hug at first. “Ula, are you okay?”

“No!” Ula shook her head before lifting it to look up at Schrader with teary eyes. “I-I woke up and, and everything’s not right!”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad’s not here! My mother is supposedly married to James, and my uncle Cosmos isn’t married to Vespers, and my grandpa Cecilio didn’t recognize me!” Ula exclaimed before a sudden realization struck her. “Oh my stars, I haven’t even seen Atlas!”

“Ula, okay, let’s sit down, okay?” Schrader held her shaking body, then bringing her over back to the sunlight as petals and flowers gently fell over them. “Ula,  I know things are very confusing right now, but I need you to listen to me, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Ula, look. You...I bet you’re wondering why everybody keeps saying that you’re awake?” Schrader sighed before Ula nodded. “Ula...you’ve been in a coma for a while.”

“What?”

“I know, I know. Look, Ryder, he found your mother, some things ensued and you went in to help her and, and…”Schrader then quieted down as his gaze left Ula and he brought a hand up to his mouth, biting onto one of his knuckles. “Ula...he hurt you so badly...I-I...all that matters is that y-you’re awake now.”

“But, Schrader…”Ula gripped onto his jacket. “That can’t be t-true! I have another life! This is all just a dream conjured up by Ryder! My mother is married to Lennie, they have two kids named Davey and Cordelia! My uncle Cosmos is married to-”

“Ula, I know, I understand.” Schrader gently held Ula’s face with a look of concern. “They said this would happen to you. Ryder used a thing, pure imagination or whatever, where he made you dream up this whole other world, an ideal world.”

“You’re...you’re telling me...everything...it wasn’t real?”

“Unfortunately, no...this is your reality Nungen.”

“And...what about my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?”

“Atlas…” Ula whispered before Schrader made a bit of a face. “He...my childhood best friend besides Ama...he loves Frankenstein...he…”

“So...you’re breaking up with me?” Schrader gave a tiny laugh before Ula blinked in surprise.

“What...what do you mean?”

“You also forgot about that, huh?” Schrader stroked Ula’s hair before she took hold of his hand.

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I-I mean, unless you don’t want me to be…”

“No! I mean…” Ula then grabbed Schrader’s face before bringing it close to her own. “I do...I do want you to be my boyfriend, please.”

Schrader gave a bit of a smile before leaning in towards Ula. pressing her forehead against hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Their noses rubbed against each other as Ula wrapped her arms around his neck, both tilting their heads in opposite directions before closing the gap in between them, lips sweetly pressed against each other.

“Are you really alive?” Ula shuddered out after having pulled away from Schrader, their foreheads pressed against each other. “You’re not l-leaving? Is this real? Are you really, really alive?”

“As long as you need me, of course. I am your loyal guardian.” Schrader gave a soft nod as he wiped Ula’s eyes. “Forever with your soul.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[aweirdkindofyellow]

Here I Am, There You Are Pt. 11

Jack Barakat x OC ‘Rachel has been best friends with Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack since high school. What happens when one of them gets married?’

Part 11

Jack and I had officially moved into our house. Once the painting was done and the bathrooms were completely finished, we left Jack’s apartment. It made everything so much more real. While we were still renovating, it seemed so far in the future, like it was still to come. But as Jack’s apartment became emptier and our house became more and more furnished and decorated, it turned into reality. The first night we spent at our house made it all concrete. Things changed. They changed a lot.

Even compared to living together back in Jack’s apartment, things changed significantly. It was only good changes, though. I wasn’t living in Jack’s space anymore, this was our space. We worked on it together, we decorated it together. There were no more fights about the dishwasher because we got a new one and both figured out what the best way to load it was. This was our home together. Of course, moving was stressful, and it didn’t happen without fights. We would fight about the strangest things. One day we’d be fighting about where exactly to put the couch. Three feet closer to the wall or further away? Then we’d be fighting about which plant to put where. These obviously weren’t things to really get into arguments about, but we were both just exhausted. After our first proper full night’s sleep, that all ended. The last thing we had to do was fix up our backyard. It really was just a matter of cutting all the grass, trimming the bushes, cleaning out the pool, and making the gazebo accessible. There were a few planks of wood that had come loose, it really needed painting, and we had to put some furniture in it so we could actually use it. The gazebo was literally the only thing that we actually had to do after living there for a few weeks. We had fixed it and painted the inside, all that was left was the outside now. But it was a weekend, and that meant that Jack and I slept in. Sometimes we wouldn’t even leave our bed all day, but usually I’d get up before Jack did. I was just in a routine of waking up relatively early and the imaginary concept of a weekend didn’t rewire my body. However, for the first time since we had moved into our house, Jack was actually up before me. After I took a shower and put on my clothes, I left our bedroom. I fully expected Jack to be up so early because he had a guitar riff or something in his head that he needed to record before he forgot it. However, once I popped my head into his workspace in our extra spare bedroom, I found it empty. The next best thing was to just go downstairs and see if he was there. But once I went back out to our hallway, I could already smell the sweet aroma of something cooking. I followed the trail all the way to the kitchen and found Jack hanging over the stove. There was definitely something nice of the menu for breakfast. He was wearing shorts that came to his knees and a t-shirt, but he looked so damn good. I sneaked up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, looking over his shoulder to see him flipping a pancake. A smile crept up onto my lips and I pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Hmm, pancakes,” I whispered, licking my lips. “What’s the special occasion?” “No special occasion,” he shook his head and picked up the pan to slide the pancake on the pile he had started before making the next one, “just pancakes.” “Just pancakes?” I repeated, not believing him at all. There was something fishy going on. “I highly doubt that.” “What makes you so certain that it’s a special occasion?” he retorted, turning the questions on me. “Well, for starters, you got up before me and I didn’t even notice.” I hugged him tighter and pressed the side of my face into his back. “And you never make pancakes unless something’s up. Like whenever I would come over when I was still in Vancouver.” “Hmm, true.” He gave in with a nod. “But we live together now. It’s not your birthday, it’s not mine, it’s not our anniversary. I’m just making pancakes for m’lady.” “I’m no lady,” I whispered as I let my hands travel down his chest until I reached the waistband of his shorts and kissed his neck. “Ay!” He slapped my hands away. “I’m making pancakes here!” “Alright.” I ended the conversation just as I had started it, with a brief kiss to the back of his neck, and removed myself from him. If Jack was going to make pancakes for no reason other than wanting to, then the least I could do was set the table. I reached into our cupboards and pulled out two plates and two glasses. After putting them down on our wooden kitchen table, I pulled out the freshly squeezed orange juice I had made the evening before from our fridge. Yes, I was turning into one of those girls. Somebody who enjoyed making things and DIY-ing. It wasn’t because I wanted to be one of those pinterest-slash-instagram-blogger girls nor did I really have the time for it all. I just really did enjoy doing it. And Jack didn’t seem to mind trying homemade pasta or some weird cake recipe occasionally. If anything, he enjoyed it. It didn’t take much longer for Jack to finish making all the pancakes. He brought the plate with the large pile to the table along with some syrup. After sitting across from me, he gave the first pancake to himself, the next two to me, and the next one to himself. While he poured some syrup on his and started digging in, I just looked down at mine and back up at him. “What?” He asked with his mouth full. “What did you do to them?” I squinted at him and inspected the pancakes from afar again. He frowned back at me and swallowed what was in his mouth. “Nothing…?” “Are you sure?” “Yeah! What would I have done to them?” I still was too skeptical to pick up my fork and knife and touch them. “I don’t know. For all I know, you jacked off in them so I’d eat your cum.” “Why would I do that?” he snorted and continued to eat. “I don’t need to, you already swallow.” I glared at him. If he hadn’t gone out of his way to actually make these pancakes, I would have gotten mad. He thought it was funny, but was it really necessary? I was still allowed to get a little pissed off, though. So, I crossed my arms and continued to refuse to touch the food. “Oh, come on. Look,” he reached over, cut off a big chunk of one of my pancakes and stuffed it in his mouth, “it’s all safe.” I continued to stare at him, but when he didn’t even flinch, I gave in. I poured some syrup on then and started eating, keeping a close eye on Jack’s reaction. You know, just to be safe. “Damn, do you really not trust me?” He shook his head, noticing how careful I was being. “I’ve been friends with you for too long, Jack. I know to watch my back,” I responded. “And we’ve been dating for three years. Have I ever done something like that in that time?” I wanted to give him examples, but I could only think of things that happened before 2016, before we got together. He actually did stop playing stupid jokes ever sinace then. “Then why did you hand out the pancakes so weirdly!” “Because I was greedy and gave myself one first, decided it was rude, gave you some next before giving myself another.” He shrugged. “God, you’re weird,” I scoffed and knocked his leg with one of my feet, “and to think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He grinned at me. “I love you.” “I love you too.” I rolled my eyes. After we finished our pancakes, Jack and I were in the kitchen cleaning everything up. That basically meant putting everything in the dishwasher and putting the syrup back into the fridge. Jack was once again doing most of the work, but only because he started. “Hey,” he tried to get my attention as he tried fitting the pan into the dishwasher. When I gave it to him, he continued, “why don’t you go get your nails done today?” I frowned and looked down at my hands. My nails were a mixture of short, broken and chipped. Usually, I liked to keep them up, have them taken care of. But that all went to shit when we were renovating and moving. “I dunno.” I shrugged although thinking my hands hadn’t looked this bad in a while. “They’re practically ruined. I’m not sure if it will be worth it.” “Don’t you want to make them look good again?” he wondered as he closed the dishwasher and took my hand to take a look himself. “I’ll pay for it.” I slowly took my hand out of his. “Why are you being so nice today?” He raised his shoulders. “Just cause I want to. Also, we’re finally done moving, so you should treat yourself. Or, actually, I’m treating you.” “It’s like you’re trying to get me to warm up to you. Like you used to do with your mom when you wanted to have a sleepover.” “Hey, I’m just offering.” He raised his hands up in defense. I checked out my nails again. Who was I if I didn’t take this opportunity? Jack was literally offering to pay for me to go out and get my nails done. “Okay, I will.” “Good.” He smiled and hooked one hand around my waist before leaning forward and kissing me. “What colour should I go for?” I asked him despite knowing I probably wouldn’t follow his advice once I was at the place anyway. I rarely did. He’d tell me to go blue when I’d be wearing pink to an event. “Something neutral,” he suggested, “maybe white.” “No, not white,” I rejected the latter. “That’ll be like wedding nails.” “If you say so.” I did exactly as I said and did not go for white. That was something I was keeping for when I was going to get married. Last time I checked, I wasn’t getting married anytime soon. Sure, if I had been single, I wouldn’t have cared. I would have rocked that white. But, now I wanted to keep it for something special. I did listen to Jack for the neutral idea, though. He was pretty spot on with that one, ignoring how vague it actually was. There were so many options and I was nearly tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and go crazy like a neon orange or a bright green. But, Jack was probably right to go for something more calm. I could always decide to go crazy a few weeks later. So, I just went with an ombre of pink to white at the tips in a coffin shape. It really did look so much better than my natural nails. Jack just had to make sure he didn’t expect me to help finish the gazebo, or else they were probably going to break off as well. Once I came back home, I obviously wanted to show Jack what I had gotten with his credit card. The first thing I did was call out his name and tell him that I was home, but I didn’t get a response. I called it out again, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard me, but I still didn’t even get an acknowledgement. So, I took a little snoop around the house, not bothering to check the garden. It almost seemed abandoned. When I also couldn’t find Olive around, I just assumed that Jack must have been out taking her for a walk. So, I just flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV to see if anything interesting was on. Unfortunately, it just left me looking lazy while doing some channel surfing. I was sure that Olive couldn’t have waited any longer for her walk, but I would have much rather been out with them. And then something unexpected happened. Olive came bolting through the door to our second living room, coming right up to me. I gave her a few good head scratches and my mind immediately went to Jack also being around somewhere. So, I called out for him again with yet again no answer. However, that’s when I noticed Olive had something attached to her collar. I was confused. It was some yellow-toned capsule. Because I knew it wasn’t meant to be there, I clipped it off and opened it. Inside was a rolled up piece of paper, not much bigger than the size of half a notebook page ripped in half. Jack’s handwriting was scribbled on it. All it said was: Hey! Come out. I want to show you something! I held onto the note and turned off the TV before shuffling past Olive, who decided to follow me anyway. This instruction was almost just as vague as the nail colour he chose. I was fully assuming he meant the backyard, so I made my way there. After opening the door, I saw Jack standing in the gazebo already expecting me. What was once green from moss and had been sanded down, was now all painted in with a nice white coat, exactly like we had done with the inside earlier. “You finished it!” I exclaimed in glee as I approached him. The way he announced it was a little extra, but I was happy. “We’re officially done with our house now!” Jack cheered and pressed a deep yet short kiss to my lips before taking a step to the side and showing off the pillows and blankets he put down on the floor. “What better way to celebrate than a picnic in our own backyard?” “You already made pancakes this morning, and now this. Are you sure it’s not my birthday?” I teased and decided I wasn’t satisfied with the brief kiss we shared. To keep the contact longer, I circled my arms around his neck and shuffled closer to him. “It’s not November for another few months.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in for another kiss while I could hear Olive barking and zooming around the entire garden in the background. “Then what did I do to deserve all this?” I mumbled against his lips. “A lot of things,” he breathed back and let his hand creep up my back underneath my shirt. I decided to challenge him. “Like?” “For not thinking I was a weird eleven-year-old when I was moved to sit next to you after disrupting the class too often,” he whispered and pecked me. “For dealing with me throughout high school and not letting my stupid crushes get in the way of our friendship.” He brushed his lips against mine again. “For being my best friend throughout all that time and staying with me after.” Another kiss. “For making me realise how shitty it was to deny my feelings and not giving up on me.” Another one. “For not letting my past ruin us.” And again. “For giving me another chance after I fucked up.” One last kiss. “For loving me and letting me love you.” Nope. There was another kiss. Only, this one was much longer and deeper. He pushed into me, using the hand on my back to keep us steady. I pulled him closer as well. I was so lucky. Never did I ever believe that I would be kissing and dating the boy in middle school who annoyed the living shit out of me. And I certainly did think I’d end up with the boy in high school who was such a big dork and would drag me to concerts super early. But now I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Jack pulled away before I wanted him to. I didn’t want this moment to ever end. He parted from me and got down. But he wasn’t getting down to sit and eat the food he had in a basket. No, he was doing something very different. He was getting down on one knee. My eyes widened and my heart started racing as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small black box. He cautiously opened it to reveal a diamond ring glistening in the light. “Rach,” he started, looking up at me, his fingers trembling lightly, “I know things are moving pretty quickly right now–” “Yes!” I practically squealed, slapping both of my hands to my cheeks in eagerness and anticipation. He chuckled softly, the trembling calming down. “Let me finish.” I nodded, urging him to continue. “Will you m–” “Yes!” I interrupted again. “Rach!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I rambled, moving my hands about, “continue.” He took in a deep breath and gave me a warning look not to interrupt again. “Rachel, will you marry me?” I nodded in excitement, holding out my arms so he’d stand back up. Before he got the chance to take the ring out of the box, I enveloped him into a hug. I dug my face into the crook of his neck, just wanting to take a second and bask in the moment so I would never forget it. “You can say yes now,” he murmured into my ear. I broke away from him and wiped away some tears that had managed to fall from my eyes onto my cheeks. I could barely manage to make the word come out for a third time. “Yes.” Jack couldn’t stop smiling as he carefully took the ring out of its cushioned box. He held my left hand and gingerly slipped the ring onto my ring finger. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Jack could have gotten anything, and I would have been in love with it. But, damn, did that boy have a good taste. The band was thin, tiny diamonds all around it, leaving the rose gold to weave through them. On top was one large oval diamond that wouldn’t stop sparkling. As soon as the ring was at the base of my finger, my arms were around Jack’s neck again and my lips were pressed against his in a very hungry kiss. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, his hands immediately went to my butt to keep me up. Everything was so surreal. Just earlier, I was skeptical about Jack’s pancakes, and now we were engaged. I didn’t want to paint my nails white because I wanted to wait until I got married, and now I was going to get married in the future. We did end up actually eating the food Jack had brought outside. It took awhile for us to let go of each other, but eventually we did. We couldn’t stay and kiss each other forever, as much as I would have liked to. I was just eating some of the grapes, still subconsciously smiling all the time, when I noticed that Jack was taking a picture of me. “Hey!” I gasped in accusation. “What?” he laughed back in defense. “I’ve gotta announce it in some way.” “At least take a good picture!” “It’s not a bad one.” He turned his phone to show me what he had taken. He was right, but that was only because I wasn’t in the middle of eating. I was just smiling and you could see the ring because of the grapes I was holding. “But if we’re going to take a proper photo, then it’s going to have both of us in it. I want to broadcast it to everybody. Except for the guys, I already sent this photo to them.” I dropped my mouth open before grabbing my phone as well. Without giving him time to think, I raised my left hand and snapped a photo of it with him in the background. That went straight to my family and Sascha along with a caption saying ‘guess what’. “Now we’re even.” I stuck my tongue out at him. He shook his head at me, not caring as much that I had obviously just sent it to people. “Just get your butt over here so we have a photo to frame forever.” The perfect photo didn’t happen immediately. There were a few tries. It was pretty difficult to get the optimal position. We had taken many selfies together before, but this was just a little different. For some reason, actually getting the ring in the shot was the most difficult part. However, eventually, we settled on a picture where I was on Jack’s lap and kissing his cheek. My one arm was around his neck, both my hands resting on his shoulder, the ring in full view. While Jack was busy posting it on social media, his arms around me so he could type, my phone started ringing. I leaned over to grab it from where I was sitting and tried my best not to have to leave Jack’s lap. Not that he would let me leave. I could barely reach it to see that it was Ethan FaceTime calling me. When I finally got to answer it, Ethan immediately greeted me. “Hey!” “Hey, what’s up?” I replied as Jack locked his phone and put his chin on my shoulder to see who I was talking to. Only the bottom of his face was visible in the frame, so my moved my phone away a little so Ethan knew Jack was here as well. “Umm, what do you think is up?’’ Ethan mocked. “I just saw your message. I’m calling to say congrats!” I giggled and Jack nuzzled his nose into my hair. “Thanks.” “I’m excited!” He grinned back. “When Jack told me he was going to propose, I had to do everything in me to not tell you. It was so difficult.” I turned my head to look up at Jack. “You told him?” “Yeah.” Jack nodded like it was a given and started listing and counting with his fingers. “I asked your dad for permission, I asked your mom for permission, and of course I checked with Ethan as well.” I didn’t think that I could love Jack any more, but just the fact that he thought to include Ethan made me love him so much more. It was so adorable and heartwarming. I couldn’t help but smile at him and kiss him. “Please, not in front of me,” Ethan groaned. “You’re the one that called after we got engaged,” I teased back. If there hadn’t been food around, I would have let Jack fuck me right on this gazebo. Ethan could have called right in the middle of that, ignoring the fact that I wouldn’t have announced it to my family yet then. “I know, I know,” he brushed it off. “But I’m still maid of honour, right?” “You don’t want to be one of my groomsmen?” Jack asked, acting like he was personally hurt. “As honoured as I would be,” Ethan apologised, putting his empty hand to his heart, “maid of honour sounds just a bit cooler.” “Damn it,” Jack whispered underneath his breath, “it does, doesn’t it?” “It does,” I confirmed with a nod. “He’s my boy.” “I will keep the title maid of honour, I don’t want any of that man of honour bullshit,” Ethan made very clear. I chuckled in response. I loved that kid with all my heart. He was nineteen now, which was just absolutely insane and unreal. To me, he was always going to be my baby brother. But now, he had graduated high school as well. He was just a few weeks away from starting college. Back when Jack and I first started dating, he was still an inexperienced high school kid. He was almost an adult now and he even had his own girlfriend. I could still remember the day he called me in a panic asking me ‘how the fuck sex worked’ after his girlfriend expressed that she was willing for them to lose their virginities to each other. It was so adorable to me. He was super lucky, because Jack was visiting me at the time. He got both advice from me and Jack. Jack gave him some technique tips, while I was asked more about what his girlfriend would like. I loved how concerned he was about her and not just about his own pleasure. He was a good kid, and I could only thank my parents for how amazing they were at raising us. “Okay, before you hang up on me,” Ethan quickly added when he noticed the conversation was starting to die down, “let me go find mom so she doesn’t call you later as well.” He didn’t even wait for us to reply before he was bolting down the stairs calling out ‘mom’ loudly over and over again. Although he was almost an adult, he did sometimes still really act like a kid, but we all did that. I could whine like I was a teenager going through a phase to my mom for hours as well. It wasn’t as frequent, but it did happen. “Mom, I’ve got Rachel on the phone,” he said off camera although his phone was still pointed towards his face. “Okay, that's nice,” was all my mom said in the background. Ethan didn’t like the answer and forced his phone in front of her. She was wearing her reading glasses and I could tell she was working on her laptop because of the glare on them. Her eyes showed the annoyance brewing inside. I was fully prepared for her to shout. She didn’t shout just yet, though. But she did sigh loudly. “Ethan, I’m working.” “Didn’t you check your phone?!” he was quick to defend himself. “I’m not constantly glued to that thing like you are,” she scoffed. I had to hide my face in Jack’s neck to hold back the laughter. She had no idea what was going on. She hadn’t checked her phone and seen my message yet. In her mind, Ethan was just trying to disrupt and annoy her. Little did she know he was just trying to make things easier. He tried to reason with her. “But Rachel–” “What about her?” My mom turned to finally look at the screen. She looked like she was going to tell me exactly what she had told Ethan, just in a much nicer way. That she was busy and that she’d talk later. Usually, I’d respect that. This time, I slowly raised my left hand up to show the ring that was now nestled on my finger. Her eyes widened significantly and her mood changed completely. “Oh! Oh my god!” “Thank you,” Ethan grumbled from the side of the screen. “When did this happen?!” My mom continued to gush. “Like half an hour ago,” I laughed. If my mom said ‘oh my god’, you knew she was in shock. She would never use that phrase otherwise. Her mouth was literally agape. “How did it happen?” “Well, I had a plan,” Jack scratched the back of his head, “but it immediately went wrong. But then it went better than expected. All credits go to Rachel, really, she just made the transition so smooth for me.” “That’s why you made pancakes this morning!” I gasped and sat up straighter. He totally had been trying to butter me up. “And the nails! You planned all of it!” “Of course, I did.” Jack shook his head softly at my ignorance. “I know pancakes make your day, I know you’re a sucker for a good picture, and I know you love our new backyard.” “I can’t believe both of my daughters are going to be married now!” I mom smiled at us, her shock now turned into content. “I’m getting old.” “I’m still a teenager.” Ethan shrugged. “That doesn’t make me any younger…” She breathed out. “Anyway, I’m going to let you guys enjoy this moment, okay? I’ll make sure dad calls you later tonight.” “Okay,” I nodded, “I love you.” “I love you, bye,” she signed off before ending the call. I immediately shifted in Jack’s lap so I could face his better without having to crane my neck as far. While I put down my phone again, I grinned sheepishly. “You’re going to have to tell me your original plan now.” “Nope!” He shook his head and sealed his lips. “What?! Come on!” I tried batting my eyelashes to sway him. “No,” he refused, leaning back onto his hands. “The way it happened was perfect and I wouldn’t want it any other way.” As much as I would have wanted to know, he was right. The way he proposed was just perfect. I couldn’t imagine it going differently. I loved how it wasn’t overly planned, how it just happened so naturally. I loved how he brought our entire history up. I loved that it was so unexpected and personal. And, of course, I loved Jack. I put my hand on his cheek and kissed him deeply. Jack, while still leaning backwards, returned it with the same amount of pressure. My hand slipped to his hair on the back of his head behind his ear and I shuffled around to straddle him. He sat up to make it more comfortable and easy while he put his hands on my waist to pull me closer. There was just one thing we hadn’t done yet, and it was on both of our minds. His hands started traveling up my shirt when I realised something. I had been called by Ethan, but Jack’s phone had been awfully quiet. Strangely quiet. His instagram was probably blowing up, but he didn’t have those notifications on. Where were the other notifications? I pulled away from him, causing him to lean forward to try and make sure it wouldn’t stop. “Hang on, did you tell your family?” He looked annoyed and clouded with lust. There was this attitude like he was about to say ‘of course’ and get a little pissed off at me. But then his brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. “Oh… shit.” I raised my eyebrows to say ‘I told you so’ without actually saying the words. He gave me a little apologetic grin and reluctantly took his hands off me to take hold of his phone instead. I could already see that there were in fact notifications on his lock screen and they were definitely from the group chat he had with his brother and sister. I tried my best to read it all upside down and saw his sister freaking out just a little. She was mainly causing a fuss because she found out through his Instagram post instead of actually hearing something from him. Jack immediately sent an apology and an excuse. He even almost blamed it on me but noticed me reading along and deleted that sentence before it was even completed. Eventually, he just settled on being caught up in the moment, which was probably true. I couldn’t imagine him not wanting to tell his family. After a few messages, he put his phone back on the floor and returned his hands to my hips. “I’ll call my parents later. Let’s enjoy it ourselves first.” “Okay,” I agreed without a second thought and resumed the kiss I had interrupted before. This time, Jack was the one to break away. “Eager much?” “Like I’m the only one,” I whispered back against his lips and gingerly, yet not so subtly, put my hand on his crotch. He stared back at me and breathed out. “Fair enough.” As he restarted the kiss yet again, digging his fingertips into the back of my hips so I’d shuffle up closer to him. Once I was in the right position, he slowly started leaning back until his back hit the pillows he had put down. Everything was slow yet so passionate. I didn’t want to ever forget this day.

[taeyohonic]

Seat Stealer

(I know Taeyong has red hair in this fic, but not in the picture. However this is the closesed I’ve come finding a gif with the vibe from this story. So please, forgive)

This is my entry for @nctwriters summer prompt challenge! I hope you guys like it.

Prompt: It’s summer break and you love it because that means the library will be totally empty for you to enjoy all to yourself. Except for the fact that when you walk in one day some really cute guy is sitting at your table.

Member: Lee Taeyong

Genre: summer romance / mostly fluff, a bit smut @ the end, so i’ll classify this as m (I guess?) 

Words: 7.3k

“This isn't funny.” “Excuse me?”, cute boy sitting in your seat is looking genuinely confused by your sharp tone.

“That’s my seat.”, you say, pointing unnecessarily at the stool he's wrongfully occupying. Cute boy’s brown eyes change from confusion to mischief in a flash. His mouth forms a sinister grin when he responds.

"You really think you have a right to a specific seat in a public library?" You don't think you do, you know you do.

Nobody else spends as much time here as you. Not even the two librarians. And especially not during summer break.

What is someone like him even doing here? His fiery red hair is tousled in a stylish mess, the kind where you can’t really tell if the guy put in a lot of work or none at all. His sun kissed skin makes you think that being indoors isn’t his preferred choice. And his cloths – swim trunks and a plain white shirt – scream beach day, not making Y/N’s life harder-day.

This boy is so far out of your – and this library’s – league, maybe your best friend Seugil is playing a prank on you.

But even she wouldn’t get a guy like that into a place like this just to mess with a slightly deranged and desperately awkward outsider like you.

Seugil is a solid seven, but this person in front of you is scratching on the ten. And the look he gives you indicates he’s fully aware of that.

You try to stay calm – interactions always bring out the worst in you.

“I always sit here.”, you say trying not to sound as snappy as before.

“Well, you're not sitting here now. So-... this sentence is grammatically incorrect.”, he responds and smirks at you. Oh no, not good. You feel your face getting hot. Even though you try to be rational, this guy is getting to you – both physically and mentally.

You could just walk away, find another place where you can continue your limbo of reading trashy romance novels and writing smutty fanfictions in peace. But this seat is perfect: right under the AC, with a nice view of the indoor court and a shelf full of inorganic – and untouched – chemistry books at the back, that nobody bothers to check out. This is heaven for introverts in the summer.

And this seat stealer is not taking it away from you. Deep breaths Y/N. Deep breaths.

“Would you mind sitting somewhere else?”, you ask in a sweeter voice.

Seat stealer is now looking you over, measuring you up. He won’t be impressed. You didn’t put too much effort in today’s appearance: A white summer dress, floor length so you didn’t have to shave, and a messy bun full of black hair, being hold together by dry shampoo.

You are not ugly. But you sure do not try to put your average features in the best light. Who do you have to impress? The answer is sitting right in front of you, clearly unimpressed.

Self-consciously you try to avert your gaze. Maybe another seat isn’t that bad. But to your surprise seat stealer contradicts his nickname by standing up. The loud scratching of the stool against the linoleum is the only sound in the library.

“I don’t mind. Please.”, he responds standing.

Flabbergasted you switch into autopilot and move around the table to take your rightful seat. But cute guy isn't exactly retreating. He just waits next to your seat and watches you sit down, still with this ridiculously handsome grin on his lips. He definitely is in your personal space. You can smell the sun screen mixed with an herb nuance of freshly cut grass on his skin.

Now sitting, you look up into his dancing eyes.

“Thank you.”, your mom raised a semi polite kid.

“No problem”, former seat stealer says and sits down right next to you. And sits down right next to you? What the hell? You openly stare at him. What. the. hell? There are roughly 40 empty seats in this building. This isn’t a polite distance. This is an invasion. This guy is giving you an amorism just by existing.

You are one move away from just standing up and aborting this whole mission, leaving in defeat. But there is still your pride. And the fact that seat stealer is now no longer watching you but looking at his phone. If you weren’t so sure he is trying to fuck with you... But what alternative is there? At home there is no AC, which would slowly kill you. Finding another seat after the whole stand you just took would undermine your fragile credibility.

And even though you don’t know this guy, loosing this charade with him is not an option. So, you do what any introvert does – detach from the social situation.

Opening your laptop, a dozen new notifications pop up and you are pleasantly surprised that even tough real life is surreal right now, your online community is reliable. You take your time responding to the asks about your next updates and the few chat messages you received since last night. Then you post a text on your tumblr:

gonna finish new chapter as soon as seat stealer lets me exist in peace

Not even a minute later your phone vibrates. You feel curious eyes on you while reading Seugil’s message.

[seugil 10:04 am] somebody dared to sit on your seat? [y/n 10:04 am] somebody has reception while camping? [seugil 10:04 am] somebody tries to change the subject? [y/n 10:05 am] there is not much of a subj. guy was on my seat, guy moved to the seat next to mine, guy is annoying. [seugil 10:05 am] guy is cute? [y/n 10:06 am] guy is cute.

You try to breathe normal. This you can manage. Even if his presence is unwanted and quite frankly rude, you’ll just do what you always do.

“You’re sitting in a library full of books.” Cute boy is definitely not low-maintenance.

“Yes”, you curtly nod, not even looking up from the screen.

“Yet, you read on your computer?” You can feel his eyes on you and turn around. Sure enough there he is – facing you, leaned back, right arm causal swung over the armrest, the whole body angled towards you.

“Rich coming from you, seat stealer.”, you bark and point accusingly at his mobile device resting in plain sight.

“Well, I am here against my will, so…”, he answers and causes you to pause. So, you were right – the boy doesn’t fit in here, and he doesn’t want to. Curiosity wells up, so you try to suppress it, but it’s no use. Who are you kidding? You are interested.

“Who forces you to spend your time in a well-tempered room, surrounded by written knowledge and people who understand the concept of giving you space?” The end sounds like an accusation emphasized by your widened eyes mapping out the sheer nonexistent distance between you two. Cute boy, who just chuckles in response, leans forward to answer your original question, simply skipping your critique.

“Failed my finals, so I have to take them again during break.” So cute boy is dumb, what a waste of perfect appearance. You don’t judge people on things they can’t change. But sitting in a library to study for a test you failed and then only being on your phone? Self-fulfilling prophecy of getting fucked. Seat stealer seems to read your facial expression like an open book – hard to believe given his aversion to print.

“I tried to help my neighbor, got caught, teacher thought it was me cheating, took my test away –“

“-and your summer.”, you finish for him, nodding and believing him. Maybe you want to think of him as a smart person, or maybe his eyes tell you that he wouldn’t lie to a stranger about such a thing.

“No, my mother stole my summer, when she personally drove me here this morning to quote work my ass off unquote”, he corrects me and uses air quotes as well as an unbelievable high-pitched voice to mimic his mother. You really like that he uses “unquote” as well, not many people do.

“So, you didn’t tell her that you actually don’t need to study?”

“I tried”, a huff emphasizes his frustration, “but she won’t believe me.”

Parents who don’t listen suck. But you think that it’s a good preparation for adult life. No adult trusts another adult.

“Sooo-“, you motion towards his cell, “you’ll just bid your time?”

“I wouldn’t call being on level 54 of Candy Crush bidding my time.”

“That, my friend, is the definition of bidding one’s time.”, you chuckle, and he joins you.

“Huh, friend? You don’t even know my name, Y/N.”, he says, mocking you and-… using your name? What the hell? Your confusion must again be readable, because seat stealer answers your unspoken question.

“Your hard case.” The explanation is accompanied by a demonstrative tap on your laptop. Ah, your name tag Y/N’s property – touch and die, a birthday present from Seugil.

Now you don’t know what to say. Should you ask for his name? What added value has this information? There isn’t a single scenario, where his name would be important to you in the future – well no plausible scenario. He could have just offered you his name, but he teases you with it. That’s why Seugil wants you to go out more. Your social skills are underdeveloped at best. So, you just stare at him and blush a bit, because he does the same. After a minute, what feels like eternity, you have enough and just break the contact, focusing once again on your laptop. You feel foolish for even engaging in this banter in the first place.

“Taeyong” It is spoken minutes after your failed attempt to get back to reading and his soft voice holds a hint of an apology. You don’t turn your head again, not ready to face cute boy again so soon after your defeat.

Taeyong – it fits. You can’t wait till you can call him by his name.

Your opportunity arrives two hours later. You have really tried to finish this chapter, but his presence is distracting at best, sabotaging at worst. Although he does go back to his phone after waiting some time to get a reaction out of you from revealing his name.

Again, what the fudge were you suppose to say? Thanking him for telling you? Agreeing with him? What is the protocol when someone whispers his name to you? This is so bizarre, there isn’t even a Wikipedia article for that type of situation – you know, you checked!

But now your battery is running low and the adapter is in your locker with your lunch, which you could use right now. The clock is just shy away from one and your stomach demands food. Normally you would eat in here. At one the receptionist takes her break and smokes behind the garbage cans, which you can see from your seat. So, you can do the forbidden, eat in the reading room.

But now he is here, making everything so much more difficult. Reluctantly you turn in your seat to face him.

“Uhm- Taeyong?”, you start and test out his name. It sounds nice, a bit soft at the end, but with a strong start. You approve.

“Yes, Y/N?”, he answers emphasizing your name as well. He locks his screen, giving you his full attention.

“I’d like to eat lunch now so-“

“Thank god! I really tried being patient, giving you space, yada, yada, yada, but I am starving!”, he groans in relief and stands up from his seat. What is happening? He couldn’t possibly think?

“You coming, Y/N?” Taeyong is steps ahead of you, around your table and you just stare, dumbfounded.

“But..but my laptop?”, you stutter and look at him helplessly and totally overwhelmed. You just wanted him to look after your laptop while you eat outdoors in peace.

“Just put it in your locker.”, he answers nonchalantly and motions for you to get up. What is seat stealer doing with your perfectly planned day? Destroying it, that he does! You stand up, defeated and hungry, and follow him.

“So, you are telling me you’ve never watched Star Wars?” Taayong speaks with his mouth half full, which should be a deal breaker, weirdly enough isn’t. You both are sitting on the grass, even though your white dress is crying its fabric soul out. He is munching on a sandwich, that you are 99,9% sure is a work of his mum. Your own cuscus salad is delicious, and you are glad you spend the extra hour in the kitchen yesterday.

“No, I said quote I’ve never watched the newer ones unquote. Luke, Leia and Han?” a dramatic pause follows, “That, Taeyong, is Star Wars.”

He just shakes his head, looking at you like you’re some foreign entity, ready to fight the humans to death.

“I don’t disagree with you,” Oh it sure feels like it, “But what about Anakin, Padme and Jar Jar Binks? That’s Star Wars as well!” He is getting more animated as he continues, “You can’t just exclude parts of history, just because they aren’t up to your standards!!”, his arms are flailing comically, making his biceps far too present for your liking. This boy sure is beautiful, and wrong.

“I’m the consumer, I make the decisions!”, you proclaim and put a big spoon of your salad in your mouth, chewing contently.

Taeyong’s personality is like a warm winter day – surprising and welcoming. He isn’t as teasing and forceful as you’d predict from your first meeting. His smile is easy, and his mind is fascinating. Even though his appearance, and his confidence of it, makes you sometimes swallow in silence. But the last hour the both of you ate and talked, an easy banter surrounding you. You’d never imagined being comfortable enough to eat next to a strange guy.

Taeyong, however, is such a force without trying, making every sheer obscure decision seem like a no-brainer. Letting your laptop in your locker? Sure. Eating on the grass while wearing white? What are washing machines there for? Watching a prequel that is objectively bad? How else would Georg Lucas financially survive?

“What do you like to do, when you’re not demolishing cinematic classics, Y/N?”, Taeyong asks after a while to end the silence.

You shrug. “Nothing much.”

“You like to read, right?”, he probes, trying to get a more sufficient answer. Well, wrong counterpart, seat stealer.

“It’s effortless and fun.”, you answer packing up your lunch box, signaling the end of this break. Sure, talking to Taeyong is exciting and refreshing. Talking about you makes you feel uneasy, like you are not enough of a subject to talk about.

“I like to swim.”, he says switching gear, not even contemplating packing up his sad remains of a sandwich. You look at his body, which is perfectly build for this sport. His shoulders are broad, his biceps defined. Taeyong is tall in general, his hands being extremly big.

“Isn’t the chlorine bad for your dye?”, you ask slightly judgmental about the red fire on his head. He groans flipping onto his back stretching his whole body on the lawn. His shirt rides up with the motion, revealing a tiny trail of hair, peaking out of his swim trunks. Oh my, you quickly look away, but the thoughts of where this trail leads stay with you and color your cheeks in a rosé blush.

“Don’t remind me.” His hands are in his hair, gripping it tightly. It seems like he is trying to rip it out. “I cannot believe I lost this bet.”, Taeyong adds and looks up at you. Ok, now you are judging hard.

“You dyed your hair because of a bet?”

“I was so sure I’d beat this guy at our last competition before summer break.”, he explains and continues telling you about his perfect swim record, slightly bragging, that it was a no-brainer to win the swim meet. That he absolutely would have, if it weren’t for his googles shifted in an awkward position, leaving him disoriented and his eyes irritated.

“So, the guy who won doesn’t like you very much.”, you conclude.

“Why would you say that?”, Taeyong asks and raises himself up, propping on his elbows.

“Because he chose that color.” The explanation is met with a lopsided grin.

“Nah, Tail is my best friend.” Who needs enemies when you have best friends like that?

“You don’t like it?”, Taeyong asks as he stands up, holding a hand out for you to take. Like so many other things you did today, this again feels easy. You put your hand in his warm palm and he pulls you up in one swift move. Taeyong doesn’t release your hand. He just puts yours into his hair. Who does that?

“Isn’t it soft?” This guy knows no boundaries.

[y/n 03:41 pm] this guy knows no boundaries [seugil 03:45 pm] cute guy is still there? lmfao [y/n 03:45 pm] he put my hand in his hair!! [seugil 03:50 pm] …seat stealer has guts [seugil 03:51 pm] how did it feel? [y/n 03:51 pm] burned like fire [seugil 03:54 pm] ? [seugil 03:54 pm] ? [seugil 03:54 pm] ? [seugil 03:55 pm] ? [seugil 03:55 pm] Y/N!! [y/n 03:55 pm] chill – his hair is flaming red, it’s a metaphor [seugil 03:58 pm] know only 1 boi with flames, snap a pic y/n [y/n 03:58 pm] after u lower me in my grave [seugil 03:58 pm] Y/N [seugil 03:58 pm] Y/N [seugil 03:59 pm] Y/N [seugil 03:59 pm] Y/N [y/n has sent a picture 04:20 pm]

“Did… did you just snap a picture of me?” He sounds incredulous and your blush automatically appears. Damn, damn, damn. With shyness you face him. His eyes are slightly narrowed, and you can’t make out if he’s mad or just impressed.

“No?” More a question than an answer, because you did exactly that. He leans over coming dangerously close.

After lunch you grabbed your adapter and the both of you sat at your prior seats. For the next hour both of you presented millennials at their best, you on your computer, him on his phone. But then Seugil had to be a pain. So, you awkwardly tried your luck. However your paparazzi skills are mediocre at best. Of course he’d noticed. In which universe does such a thing actually work?

“No?”, Taeyong repeats. Now he just sounds impressed by your blunt lie. You shake your head, too deep in this mess to come out unembarrassed.

His face is close, and you can again smell the fresh grass on his skin. The lunch break gave him a slight simmer, making this boy look seriously delicious.

“Let’s make a deal.”, he starts and points to your phone.

“Send me the picture,” over your dead body, “and I’ll never ask why you took it.”

Never? “You’ll never mention it?”, you ask with suspicion in your voice. Taeyong nods. “What it?”

“What’s your number?” He patiently dictates it and you save his contact, sending him the picture without a comment. Seugil’s reply pops up and you feel strangely defeated.

[seugil 04:24 pm] TY-TRACK TAEYONG!! omg omg call me asap when home!!

So, she knows your seat stealer. Taeyong told you that he lives in the city right next to yours. Therefore, the chances of your best friend knowing him were big – Seugil had dated Mark, presumably from the same school – last year. But you had somehow hoped that this seat stealer was yours. Now you are at a disadvantage again.

[Taeyong 04:25 pm] I look like the hottest man in the library

That day will end with an aneurism.

It didn’t. It ended with you leaving soon after the phone debacle with one contact more on your SD card, cute-boy-exposure for more than six hours, enough blushing to permanently damage your skin and a phone call with Seugil. So, Taeyong was not lying – he is wildly known for his swim talent. His gift to effortlessly flirt is legendary, especially given the fact that he never has a steady girlfriend. Not even a parade of flings. Either he silences them with an enchantment or this boy is all talks, no play. But just imagining it, you don’t think the second option is very possible. And it irks you how much that fact sours your mood when you try to go to sleep that night. There is no way in hell you’ll see this guy again. But even when you think that, somehow you know this is a lie. And you’re glad.

“You are really testing me, seat stealer.”, your stern voice is contradicted by your small smile.

But Taeyong moves over in one swift move, taking with him the almost empty cup of iced coffee.

“Just saving you your seat.”

You just shake your head and take your place right next to him. Today he wears a pastel green button-down shirt and jean shorts, hiding his red hair under a black cap. He looks like sin and it irks you how impressed you are and how your heart flutters uncomfortably.

“Yeah, because there are so many seat stealers waiting to make my summer miserable.”, you respond under your breath while firing up your laptop.

The next half hour is spent in silence. Taeyong is on his phone, while you are catching up on the last fanfiction updates. After years of reading and writing smut, you kind of got used to not reacting to fandom fluff in public. But still it feels exciting to read about cockwarming so dangerously close to him.

Just his presence makes your summer much more exciting, even though you would never admit it out loud. For the first time ever, you feel uncomfortable in a good way. Like you could actually manage to sit next to a ten and occasionally talk to it. You hear Taeyong’s moan before you feel his head drop on your shoulder. Your body reacts before your brain does and you title your head towards his. A few inches are separating your lips and you can't breathe.

"Look Y/N! Look at my friends enjoying themselves while I’m a slave of my own misery!", he proclaims and shoves his screen in your face.

There are five guys cramped together into one selfie. All of them with bare chests and shit eating grins. Two of them are holding suspicious bottles in their hands, while one of the guys is concentrating hard on the watermelon slice in his hand. The beach in the background is very familiar and you just continue to stare at the picture. The other option would be Taeyong’s lips. And your body isn't ready for that.

It’s the fifth day in a row this boy has graced your normal, slightly boring, day with his presents. You can officially say, that there is a crush building. And by official you mean that you are sure your intense blushing, the awkward silences after his flirty remarks and your hard to repress heart-eyes whenever he talks about something passionately, are a clear indicator for outsiders. And Taeyong. But he doesn’t tease you much. He talks to you, sometimes brushing his hand against yours, or like now, resting his head on you. This guy sure has some boundary issues and somehow, it’s not driving you away from him. No, you feel yourself moving forward.

Taeyong is a fixpoint for the next weeks, filling in for your best friend, who is still camping in the wilderness. You get to know the cute boy with an ego like Zeus, making it harder to disregard your crush on him. Now you’re again taking a break in the little garden of the library. The sun is hitting your skin hard today. Taeyong’s head is rested in your lap, his phone covering his face, while you lean against an old tree to block the sunshine. Like him, your cell is in front of you, as you see the invite.

[Mark Lee invited you to bonfire party this Friday] accept or decline?

Huh, you aren’t really that tight with Seugil’s ex, but you try not to scare people away that really try to make an effort. And they both parted on good terms, Seugil still sometimes going out to his parties, him sporadically joining our movie nights. This invitation though surprises you. He knows Seugil isn’t here, why asking you to come?

[seugil 02:32 pm] GO! [y/n 02:32 pm] are you stalking me on fb?? [seugil 02:33 pm] stalking, raising, loving – all the same! [y/n 02:33 pm] how boring is camp with fam? [seugil 02:33 pm] unbelievable [seugil 02:33 pm] go to the party [y/n 02:33 pm] why? [seugil 02:34 pm] u deserve to have fun [y/n 02:34 pm] and being alone @ a party is fun? [seugil 02:34 pm] sure seat stealer will be there [y/n 02:35 pm] not good enough

But then you look down and see Taeyong’s eyes. His phone is thrown away and his smile is directed at you. Warmth spreads around your body. Maybe good enough?

“I can just see your inner crisis not being able to claim a seat.”, a very familiar voice chips in your ear and there is an instant blush covering your hot cheeks.

So Taeyong is here. You slowly turn around and there he stands shirtlessly trying to kill your fragile heart. This crush is getting ridiculous. And this guy is just too damn attractive for his and your own good. Taeyong is wearing the same black swim trunks you first saw him in and nothing else. You can see his defined abs. It's no bodybuilder level, but just enough muscle to get your muscle clenched.

His sun kissed skin has a light glister and makes him shine. Taeyong looks like he stepped out of a beachwear ad. You are now just blankly starring at him, but not in the eyes like a normal person. No, your stare is directed at his stomach, then his arms, the lanky bicep and then his fully displayed collarbones. His long neck looks so bitable, you start to chew on your lower lip out of reflex. Then your view moves to his face, where you're met with a teasing smile.

“I'll-... manage.”, you chough out and shield your arms around your midriff. The black strappy summer dress you chose is hugging your figure a bit more than you'd normally tolerate, but summer is ending and you were 80% sure that you’d meet seat stealer here and you wanted to impress him.

“Let's get you a drink and me a refill, shall we?”, he answers and wows his index finger into the right shoulder strap of your dress tugging you lightly into the direction of the keg. Drinking with seat stealer isn’t exactly playing it safe. Not when you have this immense crush on him. And not when he so knows this.

Taeyong sees the hesitation on your face and cocks his head to the side.

“Or... we could discuss why you were just now shamelessly ogling me?”

“Lead the way.”

You see the victory in his smile as he moves his hand away from your shoulder and places it on your back. After all those weeks of physical contact with him, you're still surprised how much his touch does to you. Your heart is pounding fast as he leads you to the table, accompanied by bystanders curiously following the pair of you with their hushed gossip. Self-consciousness creeps up your bones. Do they think we are a couple? Are they judging you for even trying with someone like him? You avert your gaze and focus on the sand at your feet. It's less harmful to your insecurity. Sand doesn't judge you.

“You drink beer, right?” You just nod your head and he gives you a funny look.

“Why so quiet, library girl?”, he asks and fills your cups, placing one of them in your clammy hands. Before you can think of a snarky remark, that won't give away your fragile feelings while still getting him to shut up, you hear his name being called.

“Yo Tae, come back here!”

You turn around and spot a small group of guys sitting in a circle. The bonfire is not far away from them, but just far enough to give the boys an exclusive air around them. All the other guests, that are not swimming or dancing to the summer hits being jammed out of some boxes, are huddled around the big fire, lazily talking in soft voices.

“Thanks for getting me a drink, I'll just go and find my frie-”

“And bring Y/N with you!”, a familiar voice adds, and your eyes widen in shock. Mark? Just your luck, that the only other person you know is evidently a friend of Taeyong. Of course. More people stare at you and follow this exchange curiously. How embarrassing. Taeyong’s friends have the situation reading skills of a seagull.

“Come on, meet my friends, Y/N. Don't make me beg.”, he says and because you don't want to be the center of attention any longer, you crave.

“The guy with the silver hair is Ten, he's sitting next to Mark, who you seem to already know.”, Taeyong starts to murmur in your ear. His skin smells like grass again and it makes your mouth water.

“Lucas is the one closest to the chips – a deliberate choice. I have never seen a human eat so much. WinWin is leaning against him. He can't hold is liquor very well and we've been here since seven.”, he continues as you arrive at the circle.

There is an empty spot, presumably Taeyong's space. It's between WinWin and Ten and it's small. Before you can start your mental breakdown over this, seat stealer intervenes.

“Make room jackasses and let the lady have a seat. She sure likes her seats.” The last part is whispered just for your ears and you feel a shiver running down your spine.

You sit down as gracefully as possible with a drink in hand, wearing a dress and standing on sand. Taeyong follows swiftly, positioning himself dangerously close to you. His shoulder is touching yours and you can feel the warmth of his skin. Trying to control yourself, you take a big swing out of your red cup, wincing at the bitter taste of warm beer.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N.”, Mark begins and winks in your direction.

Mark has always been easygoing, a jock without the teasing layer of bullying unpopular kids. When Seugil dated him last year, it was truly a miracle how well you fitted into their couple activities. They wanted to ride rollercoasters till they had to vomit? You were waiting for them, eating pinkish cotton floss, until you had to vomit. A boat trip? Count your single ass in with a thick book and enough sunscreen to give you a ghostish aura. Maybe your compatibility with the pair was the first sign, that although Mark and Seugil liked each other, they didn’t have the spark making your presence disruptive.

“I haven’t seen you all summer.”, he continues while stealing a chip out of Lucas’ hand, earning a slap in return. All the other boys are looking at you curiously, making you realize that you haven’t said a single word since joining them. You cough shily and respond with caution in your eyes.

“You know me, outdoors isn’t my preferred setting.” “So you’re saying Y/N”, Taeyong starts a lopsided smile dangling close to your face, “your preferred setting is indoors with me?”

“Let’s say indoors, and you are an acceptable disadvantage.”, you answer, bringing the beer to your lips to get some much-needed distance from this boy. You hear a few oh burn from the guys and stare at Taeyong. To hold eye contact with him makes you tingle, the brown of his eyes so deep, you never want to stop staring. The air hums between your bodies, leaving you excited and your heart feeling alive.

“So, you’re library girl?”, WinWin asks and breaks the tension, takes a sip of his own drink while looking curiously at you.

Taeyong talks about you? To his friends? And he uses your nickname? Why? And more importantly, what does he talk to them about? Your crude – antisocial – behavior? Or the way your shoulders keep brushing against each other every time you show him a meme on your computer? Or your tendency to fall silent every time you feel too uncomfortable? Or how he shares his headphones with you, when you just have to listen to the new album of his favorite artist? Or the fact that you have a giant crush on him, which is basically written on your forehead with waterproof sharpie?

“I am?” The answer sounds more like a question, doubt clouding your voice as you look around the circle of his friends. WinWin seems to love your response, clapping his hands together. Clearly excited and clearly just as drunk as Taeyong said, because this boy forgot he holds the cup of beer in his hands, accidentally showering you in warm alcohol. You shrike, closing the distance to your seat stealer to avoid getting more liquid on your dress. Taeyong’s arm comes around you and he tries to twist you into his body, shielding you from the unwanted alcoholic shower. The smell of grass is insane this close to him, your nose stroking his collarbone, breathing in deeply as his upper body shakes with silent chuckle.

“What the hell man?”, he accuses his friend, his voice sounds muffled through your human cocoon.

“Sorr-… sorry. Damn.”, you hear WinWin trying to get up, “I’m just excited to meet the girl keeping you from us this whole summer.”

His words are slurred and laced heavily with alcohol, but you can understand the sentence clear as day. It just doesn’t make sense. You keeping him away? He has to be at the library, because of his failed finals. His mum, not you, forces him to be there every day. Is WinWin that drunk? But as the words leave his lips, your self-proclaimed shield, one second chuckling, goes stiff. You can hear the faint sound of the bonfire crackle behind you, but Taeyong is silent, suspiciously so. Your cheeks heat up, because there is obviously some inside knowledge you’re not prior to.

You peek at Taeyong, just seeing his pointy chin, so you squirm yourself out from under this boy to look him in the eyes. But his arms are stonily holding you in position, direct at his chest, his biceps more like steel bars than flesh.

“We’ll go clean up.”, he says curtly, standing with you in his arms, effortlessly lifting you up in one swift move.

“You’re not even dirty.”, Ten laughs while Taeyong takes long strikes away from his friends, putting growing distance between you and their drunken laughter. You sneak a last glance at them, seeing Mark’s grin, WinWin’s hand on your abandoned beer, Lucas’ face in the chips bag. They don’t care a bit that Taeyong basically manhandled you, half carrying you, half letting you hobble along with his long legs.

You try to scramble your thoughts into an order, which doesn’t sound insane. What the hell just happened? You are heading to the dark water in front of you, totally deserted from the few swimmers earlier. The waves crash against your bare feet and you shrike at the cold water touching your skin. He wouldn’t. No. He wouldn’t dare.

“Take your dress of, Y/N.”, he says, some laughter coming back into his voice while he snaps one of your shoulder straps away with his finger. This was a beach party. Of course you have a swimsuit under your dress. But this was an alibi choice, a deliberate decision to not look too out of place, while still never even considering to actually go for a swim. But you never imagined going to a party without your best friend, or sitting next to seat stealer and his friends, or how good his body felt pressed against you, and how alive you feel with his hand on your shoulder.

So, you take a leap as the both of you continue going into the water. The cold wet is already up to your knee, as you try to stop your feet from moving. You plant them into the sand and Taeyong does magically halt, looking at you, searching your face.

“You don’t have to.”, he breathes gloomily, taking his hand from your shoulder. You must be insane, but that he actually gives you the option to back out of whatever this is, makes you adventurous, as your fingers grab the hem of your black dress, pulling it over you head in one single motion.

Now you are standing in front of your crush in a dark red one-piece suit, which modestly covers most of your body. With shaking hands, because the water is freaking cold, not because you’re just the bravest you’d ever been, you wad the piece of clothing into a ball, giving it to a stunned Taeyong.

“Let’s not even pretend I can throw that far.”, you joke, your voice abnormal high due to the anxiety cursing through your veins. The only answer from your crush is a single toss, sending the item safely onto dry sand. So, at least something is safe in this scenario.

Taeyong’s eyes burn into your skin as the both of you slowly begin your ascend through the deep water. The ocean soon closes in around your bodies, making you less self-conscious about your appearance. Taeyong leads, his back against the open sea, with his front never leaving your sight. Cold fingers dance hesitantly around your clothed waist as he stops, water just covering your hard nipples.

Before he can speak or do anything to silence you, you try to make sense of WinWin’s comment, the remark still fresh in your memory.

“When is your make-up exam?”, you ask with a heavy layer of accusation. Somehow knowing the answer, before Taeyong confirms your suspicion.

“Two weeks ago.”

“Why?”, you whisper, while his hands now rest confidently on your waist.

“Because I like you, library girl.”, he confesses and closes the distance between your bodies.

“How much?”, you whisper and let your fingers hold onto his biceps for support.

“That much that I spend the last two weeks in a library.”, he chuckles confidently and leans down, letting his nose bump into yours.

His breath is visible due to the cold evening air and you stare at his lips, now in plain view. How many times had you dreamt about this? Him? Like that? Before the moment vanishes, Taeyongs lips drive onto yours.

They are warm and soft and fit perfectly on yours. Your mouth matches his intensity, as you feel his tongue tracing your bottom lip. With a soft whimper you let him in. His arms are around moving from your waist to your cheeks. Taeyong’s wet hands frame your face and title your head back.

Your bodies are pressed together, and your tongues explore each other in a heated banter. He tastes like beer and honey and you try to get closer to him. He moans, feeling your breast flushed against his bare chest.

No more distance, you think and touch every inch of skin. Your fingers brush against his abs, mapping out the muscles and earning a deep growl from him. In a flash his hands are no longer on your face. Now they are firmly on your butt cheeks. You yelp in surprise as he lifts you up, guiding your legs around his waist.

The air is leaving you as you get drunk on this kiss, warmth arising in your core. Tayeong lets go of your mouth and moves his lips downwards to your neck, lightly sucking on your wet skin.

“How?”, you whimper, your brain no longer capable of the syntax.

“How what?”, Taeyong murmurs into your neck, never letting his lips leave your body.

“H- how can this feel so good?”, your voice is strained from a tension you have never felt before. Automatically you start to roll your hips and hope it will relieve this strain in your lower body.

“How can it no-… Y/N,” Taeyong’s groans, “you trying to unman me?”

His hands try to still your motions, but then he snaps, buckling into you.

“Ah”, breathlessly you encourage him. This is fast. This is not playing it safe. Your lips are on his and you try to consume him. Taeyong’s hands move from your butt to your hips, assisting your hips and fastening their speed. It feels like the water is boiling as one hand reaches between you two. He uses two fingers and lays them directly against your clit.

“Ahh” Too much pressure, just enough, never enough.

“P-pplease.”, you beg. “Shit”, he starts to move them in sloppy circles. You continue to grind against him, now feeling a hard length press against your slit. The moan out of your seat stealer’s lips sounds desperate as you rub against him. It feels so good, even through his trunks can you feel his cock twitch and it makes you so hot, you’re certain the water around you is boiling.

“Never stop”, you whisper and find a rhythm. The tension continues to build. “You feel so good wrapped around me” His words are spoken against your mouth, trailing wet kisses across your jaw, finding their purpose on your collarbone. Taeyong’s fingers move the fabric of your swimsuit away to touch your clit without any barrier. You flex your legs instantly, overwhelmed by the electric current running through your body, making your skin tingle.

Then his teeth sink in your neck at the same time his index finger moves between your folds. All thought is lost as you scream silently buckling franticly against him. You see light flash behind your eyelids as an orgasm rips through you. Never had your own fingers managed to give you this high. Your hips draw lazy circle around his length as you are trying to regain control.

“Wow”, you breathe, and your hands roam around Taeyong’s upper body, who still lightly nibbles on your collarbone. He chuckles against your wet skin.

“How you feeling, Y/N?”, he asks and moves his hand away from your heat, up to cradle your cheek. You look into Taeyong’s eyes and see a fondness in them, that shines through the darkness of this night. He looks as smitten as you feel. But at the same time there is a hunger in his stare that reminds you of his hard erection still pressed into your lower body. Now your shyness comes out in full force. What to do? What to say? Everything up to this point felt as natural as breathing, now you’re again overwhelmed, and your mushed, orgasm-high brain is no help either.

“You want me to..?”, you question and try to sound seductive, your hand vaguely motioning to his crotch underwater. Taeyong just shakes his head, letting small waterdrops rain from his wet red hair. Before you can feel rejected, he kisses you openmouthed, making you forget the slight pain of the mark on your neck.

“Please, if I don’t get my first handjob from you in the reading room of our library, my dirty fantasies would never forgive me.”, he answers warming your heart more than his gifted orgasm beforehand.

[seugil 11:38 pm] Y/N WHY ARE YOU WET ON EVERY SINGLY TAGGED PIC OF THIS PARTY?? [seugil 11:38 pm] AND WHAT IS THAT ON YOUR NECK? [y/n 11:42 pm] anD WhAt iS tHaT oN yOuR nEcK?