#Janet is so cute I can’t

[asterdeer]

1 sentence horror story: “‘I like hand sewing better than machine sewing,’ the quilter with chronically shaky hands and hypermobile fingers realized”

[modelbus]

Here we go, my first tumblr anything-tober. This year I’ll be doing flufftober!

These will be shorter “oneshots”. Also I apologize if this isn’t exactly fluff lmao…

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 1 - The Clock Is Wrong (Time Loop)

“Tom, right?”

Day 27 of this stupid time loop. The first day, you didn’t even realize. By the end of the week you moved into despair, bargaining, and anger. By day 20 you hit acceptance. For the past 7 days, you’ve been living out the day as you normally would. Same thing every time, save for it you change bits yourself.

Tom was the boy you bumped into every repeated day at the zoo. The first day you hadn’t thought much of it except for a mental “oh, he’s cute”. But now, when everything is so monotonous, he’s become an oddly bright spot.

It took you four days to get his name: Tom Simons. The name, oddly, seemed to fit him.

He blinks at you, gaze swiveling from his dropped drink—Coke, you learned on the sixth day—to you. His spilled Coke was entirely your fault; you had bumped into him. On purpose this time, unlike that first day.

“How-?” He starts, eyebrows furrowing.

“You have the vibes.” You joke, laughing. “I’m so sorry about your drink, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” He smiles at you, bright. Most of his smiles were—day 9.

“Are you sure? I can buy you another one, I feel like shit.” You don’t.

He shakes his head. “No, I can buy my own. Don’t worry about it mate.”

“At least let me accompany you to get another.”

This was your in for today. You’ve been trying different ones, just attempting to spend more time with him. He wasn’t alone here, he came with friends (day 2), so you always ended up parting ways. And you always ended up wishing you didn’t.

“Fine.” He relents. “But only because I should make you pay for running into me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll put my full effort into walking with you to get another drink.” You laugh, sarcasm lacing your words.

“Coke.” He says. “And you should.” After a moment of heading back up to the fridge with the drinks in the gift shop, he speaks again. “So. You guess people’s names from their vibes a lot?”

“It’s actually my superpower. Don’t tell anyone though.” You nudge your shoulder against his, grinning when he nudges you back.

“Name someone else then.” He challenges.

Truthfully, you panic for a second. Sure, you know the names of his friends (Wil and Phil—day 8), but they’re outside. And then your eyes land on someone in a red vest declaring them as a zoo employee.

“Janet.” You say, pointing at the worker.

Tom grins at you, like he’s predicting your downfall, then marches up to the worker with his new Coke in hand. “Hey, what’s your name?” He asks the worker, already turning to you.

“Uh, Janet. Is there anything I can help you with?”

His jaw drops open, and he quickly shakes his head. “Uh- no, thanks!”

You let out a loud laugh, and he grabs your wrist to drag you to get in the checkout line for his Coke.

“How did you do that?!” He hisses, glancing around.

“She had a name tag, Tom.” You laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the sound so people don’t stare.

“…Oh.” His cheeks flush, making you laugh even more. “Stop! Shut up!”

He quickly pays for his Coke, shaking his head at you. But you know better, and you know his humor. Besides; he’s smiling.

“I can’t believe you actually believed me.” You sigh, still smiling like an idiot.

“How was I meant to know she had a name tag?”

“With your eyes!”

At the exit door to the zoo gift shop, he pauses, fidgeting with the bottle of Coke. Your heart leaps into your throat. This is it. Most likely your parting for the day. Sure, you’ll see him tomorrow, but that’s after another cycle. Another looped day.

“Are you here alone, or…?” He starts, trailing off so you can fill in.

“Alone. I know, it sounds sad, but I like the zoo. And you?”

“Friends. Two of ‘em, actually.” This is normally where he starts to sound apologetic and makes an awkward goodbye. You brace yourself for it, in fact. “Do you- do you want to join us?”

For all the times you’ve waited for this invite, you aren’t sure what to do now that you have it. “Oh.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Not that you have to or anything, but if you want to. I mean, you seem pretty cool and not like a serial killer or anything. Unless you like pineapple on pizza. Then I’m going to have to leave you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like pineapple on pizza, don’t worry.”

“Cool.” He grins at you. “So…?”

“Yeah, I’d love to join you. And your friends.”

As you step out of the shop with him, rolling your eyes playfully at a dumb joke, you can’t deny the warmth that fills you. Even if it was only for today, a day you’ll repeat, you get to spend it with a boy with blond hair and a smile like the sun.

[averagegtenjoyer]

I just watched Quantumania a second time and I want to mention some of the g/t in it that I liked because I think it has my favourite size difference interactions in any media ever

Spoilers for Quantumania, obviously

- right at the beginning when they enter the Quantum Realm, Scott carefully opens his hands and you can feel how relieved he is that Cassie is okay. And she looks SO small. When he gently says “Cassie?” But his voice is still so big n rumbly

- When the sun-creature-thing jumps at them and scott instantly grows to protect her. When his feet hit the ground and he causes this massive earthquake. The scale difference with cassie under him.

- my 100% favourite bit is when you can hear Scott’s footsteps when he’s approaching Kang’s citadel. Cassie physically has to stumble to keep her balance and Janet just knows its him and looks so proud of her son in law.

- the smoke clears to reveal him and he’s SO big. You can’t even see Hope on his shoulder from a distance. When he yells at Kang he looks soooo intimidating YIPEE!!

- “Holy shit. That’s big.”

- When he kicks the wall over and you can actually see how huge he is compared to Kang’s army. And he’s yelling and effortlessly destroying stuff just a little rampage for my babygirl

- that one up-angled shot of his foot coming down while he’s destroying things MWAH

- Kang actually looking a lil scared of him.

- I really tend to dislike voice pitch changes when a character grows or shrinks but I LOVE how they did it in this movie. Its not like their voice changes entirely, but when they grow their voice gains a noticeable boom and a little bit of depth, and they speak a little bit slower. Its not to an insane degree and it ends up making them more intimidating at that size instead of sounding silly.

- Angry + protective Scott lang demanding to know where his daughter is, right after he effortlessly throws an entire spaceship.

- Hope landing on the side of Scott’s helmet and she’s like barely bigger than his eyeball <3

- After Cassie grows, she’s trying to get Scott’s attention and she does a little excited hop that makes the ground shake and its so cute

- “You’re huge!” “I’m huge!”

- When he grabs Kang and leans in real close n growls something at him (right before getting blasted) but it was still a little fearplay moment

There were more little moments and stuff but honestly i am too obsessed with this movie rn my brain is like blowing up 🫶🏻😆 brain = rotted

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 9

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

CW: Smut (dry humping) in this part. Mentions of using sex to numb feelings. Please read with caution and skip if need be.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

________________________________

There are certain messages Calum’s used to seeing--ones about meetings that have gotten pushed back, good morning texts from you, one from his parents about some sort of article they came across and wanted to send to him, thinking it would be good for him. There’s the texts from Michael or Luke or Ashton about bullshit--videos, memes, a bad selfie in their thread. There’s the text messages about a cute dog or cat that someone’s spotted in public. Then there are text messages that Calum is not prepared for. Ones that he hopes he never gets accustomed to receiving, that are bearing the bad news. 

However, seeing, If I asked to borrow the back garden or some kind of back yard area to tie dye socks, would that be an immediate no? is the type of text that Calum thinks he would never want to brace himself for. There would be no fun in being prepared for spontaneity. Calum laughs, dragging the towel over his face to wipe away some of the sweat pouring from his hairline. Even with the heat of the summer fading, the long hours on the weekend with the shed still causes a sweat to break out. 

Yes, you could use whatever you needed, baby. 

Excellent, because I may already be here. Are you working on the shed?

Calum taps the icon for a call. It rings, once then twice against his ear. “Hi, love,” you answer. The pet name never fails to send a jolt of desire down his spine. You always say it so softly, like you’re trying to savor the taste of every syllable on your tongue. Sometimes, Calum’s tempted to ask what it tastes like. Does it taste sweet like cotton candy when he calls you baby?

“Hi, baby. Now what is this about needing to dye some socks?

“Charlie wants tie dye socks. The ones in the store don’t have color combinations that he likes. I’ve got some dye from when I had to recolor some shirts that were starting to fade and helping roommates out with stuff. The apartment’s been overtaken because Josie’s invited friends over, which I knew would be happening so it’s not a problem. But I know I have free time and can’t sit still to save my life. You don’t have to say it. Hence why I’m asking to borrow space for a little bit.”

“There’s always space here. Do you need help setting up somewhere? Put you closer to the laundry room--wouldn’t you need that for dying?”

“Yes, I should say, the socks would have to stay there for at least today and then if I could stay the night, I’d rinse them in the morning and take them with me.”

Calum nods, though you can’t see it. “Yeah, that’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Faintly in the background, voices arise from your side of the phone. “You’re supposed to be gone. You can’t tease us like this,” someone hollers. 

Calum just makes out the words but catches your laughter as you respond, “I am a ghost. You do not see me.”

“That’s it, I’m dead. Dead,” the person laughs. 

“Are you still using the service entrance? I have let the guards at the main entrances know about you. You literally can just walk into the front door,” Calum states through his laughter. 

“If I’m honest, my brain just went on autopilot mode and hadn’t realized I’d missed the turn for the main entrance until I was already past it.”

“Habit, huh?”

“You know they say they die hard.”

“It’s alright. Next time, you’ll get it. I’m shocked the codes are still the same for you.”

“I don’t think it’s been deactivated yet. Part of me wonders if Janet’s ever going to deactivate it.”

“She may not.” It shouldn’t shock Calum if Janet decided not too. Though, he does think it might be a tough sale to security. They could win the battle if need be, but Calum worries about that for another day--should it ever come up. “But what do you need for this tie dying venture? A table or something, I’m sure.”

“I can get all that, don’t worry.”

“You sure? At least let me get you a table out from storage, baby.” Calum figures that it might be a mute point, that you might already have the table, but he’s still going to offer. The last thing he’ll do is not attempt to help. After throwing a quick warning back over his shoulder to the guys assisting him, he starts towards the doors. He doubts he can beat you to wherever you’re headed if it’s not directly outside. 

“You’d have to come all the way through the back when I’m already inside to grab it,” you counter. 

You are right. The curse to the size of the castle and its grounds is that sometimes it’s much too big for its own good. Getting anywhere in the residential wing is a bit of a chore--long hallways, limited number of doors. Calum’s sure it’s all due to safety, someone somewhere had a reason for the pain, but that’s not going to stop Calum from trying. Not when he knows it’s for your brother. The last thing he wants to do is get in the way of that relationship. 

“I can at least try,” Calum quips back. He’s never considered himself a track star, but he’s glad for the years he did football. 

“Don’t wind yourself out, love.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

Your laughter echoes, skips for just a moment but then your voice filters back in through the speakers. “I wouldn’t dare dream of such a thing. But seriously, I’ve already got a table. You better turn yourself back around.”

Calum continues on, just as he gets to the door, a bit more huffy than he would ever like to admit, he spies you rounding the corner from the hallway storage is on. “Hi baby,” he calls out once you make it closer to him.  

“You’re hardheaded, you know?”

“Only….everyday though.”

You pause in the doorway, table in your grip--it’s a smaller one, but taller so you don’t have to bend down so much with it. “Yet, somehow, I still find myself attracted to it.”

“It’s the boyish charm. Need anything else?”

“Boyish charm,” you laugh, leaning into him a little. “We can call it that.”

Calum meets you, a quick kiss before you continue on through the door he’s holding open. It’s a silly thought, Calum tells himself, as he watches you carry on through the garden. You’re careful as you go, keeping the table a good six inches away from the ground as you go. But something does feel a little different. Your smiles at him melt a little bit more, feel a little bit warmer than before. To see you comfortable enough to ask for a kiss--even a peck as it was--in public made his stomach flutter yesterday. 

The party was about you, so Calum withheld any conversation about it. The thing his parents did teach him was to be mindful of the time and place in addressing certain conversations. But for you to think, well before asking, that the castle would be free to you feels like further confirmation. You are changing, or maybe it’s a bit more like you’re unraveling. Though you and Calum walked in the early stages, you’d never mentioned your siblings. Now with that bit of information revealed Calum seems just how much you care about them--enough to dye socks so they have what they want. 

He can’t say much about your dating life prior. He assumes you might’ve had some experience prior. Calum can say for certainty that building the relationship with him has been slow with you. Worry and concern are the biggest culprits for that. But that seems to be falling slowly to the wayside. Calum won’t take any credit for this. He just watches, carries with him the tiny pieces of how you’d opened up. He does not consider himself a poet; he’s much too meticulous with when and how he shares anything. But if love is watching someone blossom into something more magnificent than they’d ever been before, then he thinks he’d ought to give it a shot to capture the feeling of being witness to it. It’s pride without arrogance, awe without jealousy. An emotion sure pure he’s sure he’s never felt it once since he left his childhood. But he feels it now, watching you pause at tomato plants. 

If all Calum gets to do is watch you grow and evolve, then it will still be a life well lived. 

“You’ll let flies in, Your Highness,” Janet teases passing back the doors. 

“Just put me on fly duty,” Calum laughs, but does move to let the door close behind him. There’s no embarrassment as Calum catches up behind you at being caught staring. “See anything else ready to be picked?”

“Oh, that’s still well beyond my wheelhouse. But I don’t think so.”

“You know more than me.” Calum means it sincerely. That you do know more about the garden than he does. But he thinks too that there’s a kind of life that you’ve lived that Calum had only once thought would be his. It’s a great honor to serve, take on his duty as expected. But there’s a little bit of life, a certain kind of living that he’d never really do. There’s a certain kind of wisdom he didn’t have. Not that Calum would ever want to romanticize your struggle and your suffering. But he knows that your experience gives you a perspective different than his--a perspective that Calum’s glad you’re willing to share with him. 

“I’m sure your mother could teach both of us a thing or two about gardening. How’s the shed coming along?”

The new one fades out of view, leaving the current restoration project bare in front of the two of you as you walk closer to it. “It’s going,” Calum returns. “There’s some shelving we’re working on now and the bench. A little behind schedule, but we anticipated that much from the start.”

“Looks good though. A fresh coat of paint?”

It’s the same blue as before, just not chipping anymore. “Yeah, a little birdie suggested it.”

“One smart bird.”

Calum helps you get set up--from getting the table stable to getting the dye into the more appropriate squeezable bottles, and once you’ve sworn up and down at least three times that you’ve got it from there, he ventures back over to the shed. The group doesn’t say much, but the smiles passed around them tell Calum everything he needs to do. He’ll never live this down. 

“It’s not a crime to be in love,” he laughs. 

“No one said it was. But to think, the same man just a year ago was swearing off love now following his partner like a puppy--it’s quite the sight,” Vance returns, looking up from his measuring where he works on the last few pieces of the built-in bench before they’ll start installing it. Getting power to the shed set them back longer than anticipated and when Vance’s gout flared, there were a few days that a lot of the light work went into place--like the painting and verifying the shelving design. This weekend is hopefully one of the last two big pushes to get the main structures in place. From there Calum will work on getting the table ordered, chairs, and the final furnishings. 

“I guess a lot changes in a year,” Calum answers. 

“I guess it does. Now c’mon lover boy, you’ve got a bench to install.”

It’s easy to get lost in the pop of the staple gun, in the measuring and re-measuring. Calum finds himself waiting for the click of each piece slotting in together; it’s a satisfying sound. It doesn’t take too long with Vance’s help to get the skeleton of the bench installed. Though it does take a little bit of finesse to get the paneling up over the skeleton. By the time the sun starts to dip just a hair down in the sky, but not quite touching the horizon, the bench is fully nearly assembled. The top isn’t bolted in yet and won’t be until the cushion is fashioned to the top, so the lid is resting on the structure for the time being. 

“Give it a test,” Vance suggests. “Make sure it’s up there sturdy.”

Calum’s weight seems to make no difference to the unit. There’s no creaks, no sagging. With a bit more courage, Calum swings his legs up and stretches out over the item. His feet hang off just a little, but that’s little to be concerned about. Given the space of the shed in total square feet, there was no way to make the bench as tall as him. But it’s solid beneath them. 

“It’s good,” Calum states, pushing up from the bench. 

“You’ll need these for tomorrow,” Vance calls out, pulling out a bag of metal hardware from his belt. Calum catches it with ease and notices the black hinges and screws assembled into the bag. Tomorrow Tamara comes by to help get the bench upholstered, though Calum suspects she’s always going to want to get Calum to finish buying the furnishings tomorrow too. Vance is taking the day to spend with his wife for their anniversary so it’s nice to be able to switch off to other aspects in the meantime. 

“Have fun tomorrow.” The guys laugh just a little at Calum’s statement. Even though Vance called Calum out about Calum’s own behavior, Vance was just as guilty. Every chirp of Vance’s phone made him pause to see if it was his wife. Albeit, Calum suspects there’s more going on at home over the last few weeks. Vance was talking more and more now about wanting to be a dad. It’s not his place to put out information that wasn’t ready, but Calum holds the suspicion close to his chest. 

Vance flips them off but his own laughter bubbles. “Your minds are absolutely in the fucking gutter, man. 

“Might be, but we already know exactly what’s going to happen tonight,” Parker pipes in from the opened door of the shed. 

“And you can’t even get your dick wet, so I don’t want to hear it,” Vance huffs. 

Parker was behind Calum in age by about a year and a half, but the two of them shared more in common than initially suspected. Parker’s highschool sweetheart hadn’t called it off before leaving for college. It left Parker behind, his family unable to afford the costs. Parker had taken courses with the community college before moving to vocational school to learn welding and HVAC. According to Parker, he’d gone for a trade so that he could have money saved up for a wedding when his love returned. Yet, Parker was left heartbroken instead. Parker’s partner returned for spring break of his sophomore year and called it off, admitting to emotional cheating. Not necessarily out of a desire to hurt Parker but out of loneliness, being on campus by himself and having a hard time in the first semester making friends because he was so homesick. It happened slowly--just as a friendship, someone to confide in about loneliness, hangout on the weekends and show him around the strange new town. But it was becoming clearer more and more as time went that there was someone else to Parker.  Calum, over a few beers, had gotten the story in the initial days of renovations. 

That was five years ago, but Parker hadn’t found anyone else. Not for the lack of trying. Parker always seemed to have a string of dates, stories to tell about who he was seeing, but they rotated out nearly weekly. Each weekend meeting for the renovations started with a hot gossip hour--Parker’s latest string of dates, Vance’s home life about his wife and two dogs, Tamara occasionally joining with stories of her dating life, Logan chimed in with updates about his new partner too, and Calum always carried up the rear in their circle. But Parker is the one that Calum worries about sometimes--the way he laughs at the jokes the other cracks but it sounds a little bit like it’s being forced. 

“Hey, at least he’s trying,” Calum interjects between the laughter. 

Parker is a decent guy, but possibly still too scorned from his first love to really let anyone in. Calum can’t say he doesn't get it. It’s a shitty box to be in, to know that you have so much love to give but someone hurting you so deeply that it makes you want to hide that love away. Whether or not the pain was caused intentionally never really undoes the fact that it cuts so deeply. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got the stories to back up his efforts,” Vance agrees easily. “Soon, he’ll settle down with a good guy. I know he will. But I think we’re at a good stopping point for today, yeah?”

The lot agrees. Calum takes survey of the progress--Logan and Paul have been working on the shelves while Calum and Vance focused on the bench.  Only the foundations and arches of the unit exist based on the work done today. But it did take a little trial and error to get the arches to match. It’s clear though the shape it’s taking on. Once all the shelves are in and attached, they’ll paint it. Thankfully the paneling for the bench is a dark brown and matches the color for the rest of the furniture so there’s little to do in terms of staining the unit. 

The wood and tools are all moved inside. Though Calum’s positive there’s no rain in the forecast, he knows that could change on a dime. Rather than trying to replace expensive equipment, he houses it inside of the shed now that the roof is fixed. The guys give their goodbyes as Calum turns the key on the bolt to lock the doors. Everyone on the project has a key should any one of them get here before the others, but Calum’s most often the first one there and the last one to leave. 

“Thanks for that,” Parker states. Calum looks to his left, a little startled that Parker was still around. “For sticking up to Vance like that. I know he doesn’t mean any harm with those jokes, but they do get a little old. So I just wanted to say I appreciate you saying something.”

“Of course, man. Anytime,” Calum returns. “I get it. You know that.”

Parker’s nod is soft. “Yeah, I do. But still, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow for a couple hours at least. I don’t think we’ve got much left to do now.”

“No, it is shaping up nicely. I still appreciate your help with all this. Even though this is pretty far from HVAC.”

Parker laughs. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not exactly the ports on an AC unit, but I’ve got a few more skills than that too. Have a great night.”

“You too,” Calum calls out as Parker heads back for the doors. 

Calum’s not sure why he expects that you’re still working on the socks. But all he finds instead is the empty spot that you once had a station up at. There’s not even indentations in the grace to show where you stood. 

“Done already?”

Calum spins to see you walking out from where the new shed stands. “I was wondering where you’d gone,” he laughs, though his heart is still thundering in his chest. 

“Joy asked for a spare hand.” Looking down, Calum can see the patch on your knees from the grass. Maybe not quite a full on stain, but it’s clear where you’d been working with the dirt too with the dark brown spots. 

“You want to borrow something of mine and I do need to do laundry once we get back from drinks, I can throw everything in at once.” 

“A shirt at the least. I think I have some spare pants in your room and I do have an overnight bag too.”

Calum nods, reaching out for your hand. He tries to remember if you do. He knows you took most of the stuff out a couple weeks ago, but he can’t recall if you came back with anything more. You could’ve and the time’s just slipped from his memory. But the trek back instead passes in an exchange about the work done--there’s a pause at the laundry on the first floor for Calum to take in the sight of the socks still contained away to allow the dye to set and settle into the fibers. 

“They look good,” Calum compliments with a squeeze to your hand. 

“Thanks, tomorrow’s the true test to see how the colors did.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn out well.” The two of you continue on up to Calum’s room. The squeak of your shoes as you two climb the stairs. Though the elevators are a faster way up, you head for the stairs and Calum follows behind. But it is a relief to hit the residential hallways. The work from earlier and Calum’s earlier work out are catching up with the burn of the stairs. The echo of slightly labored breathing softens as the two of you push closer and closer to his room. 

“We’re never taking those stairs again,” Calum huffs, pushing his door open for you to enter through. 

“You might not, but I think I’ll take them again.” Your own retort is stuttered as your breath comes and goes with big inhales and exhales. 

“Yeah, right,” Calum laughs, shuffling past you as you paused at his drawers. On your side of the bed, resting on the floor, is the bag you mentioned earlier. It’s a silent shuffle in the room, the opening and closing of drawers, the zipper being opened to your bag. 

“Do you want to shower first?” Calum offers. He’s still contemplating what to wear but given your ease to pull his yellow button down out from the closet and your fresh jeans from the drawer, you seem to have him beat. Though time’s not really an issue, Calum isn’t fond of being late when not necessary. 

“Do you want help and we can shower together? You know, saving water and what not?” you laugh, slipping behind him. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re suggesting something there,” he teases. 

“Do you trust me?” It’s a soft question. 

“I do.” It’s an easy answer to an easy question. 

“Then trust it’s nothing more than that. I just wanted to be close to you is all.”

That--that’s the kind of confession that makes Calum’s toes curl. “Then please help before we are half an hour late because I can’t decide.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder, though Calum’s sure he’s covered in sawdust and sweat--the conway studio’s T-shirt he’d gotten from Michael as a gift when Michael worked there for an artist on their debut album is a little unforgiving in some areas with the sweatstains that show up. “Of course. Where’s your casual meter? How do you normally meet the boys?”

“It never matters that much, if I’m honest,” Calum returns. Your arms wind around his midsection and Calum’s hold on the hangers slackens so that he can trace over the skin of your forearm with the tips of his fingers. 

Your hum vibrates your shoulder but you tap his stomach before pulling away. Calum watches you shuffle back over to his drawers. You browse through the drawer only for a moment or two before unearthing a t-shirt, white with red trim at the neck and sleeves. His taste tester t-shirt. “We can start here,” you offer. 

It doesn’t sound like a full on question, but there’s just enough lilt in the tone that Calum reassures you with a nod. He pushes his shirts off to one side of the closet before focusing on his bottoms. There’s some comfort when you’re next to him, watching over his shoulder at the selections. It’s less about the clothes and more about the fact that Calum wants you to know he needs you, cares about having you there for even the little things. Passing on his black jeans, Calum settles for some black trousers. You pick a black belt with a big silver Western buckle to top it off. 

“Looks good to me,” Calum affirms. 

“Well, let’s giddy up cowboy.” It falls with a teasing laugh, but Calum wouldn’t take it any other way. 

The water is warm, hitting nearly like mist over Calum’s shoulder until he gets just enough water to get the pressure right. Once the shower roars, he lets you into the stream first. You only take a moment to get your face wet before you’re moving for his shampoo. 

“Is there something in my hair?” he asks. There wasn’t any checking in the mirror before getting into the shower, which might’ve been his first mistake. 

“Yeah, there’s some dust.”

“I can do it,” Calum comments, reaching out for the bottle, but you tuck it behind your back. This shower though it comfortably fits the two of you is not the best place to attempt to out muscle someone. Calum soaks his hair and turns as you direct him. The friction of your fingertips over Calum’s scalp is firm but not overbearing. It’s enough to make his eyes flutter close as you work. The kind of tenderness and care that makes his innards melt. So lost in the sensation, Calum nearly misses your directive for him to rinse the shampoo. Your work is swift to comb the conditioner through. 

Calum goes to rinse it when you’re done, but you catch him by his elbow. “Not so fast,” you laugh. “Let it sit for another minute. Scooch to where I am.”

“I’ve never let my conditioner sit this long before,” Calum returns, but lets you stand in front of the stream from the shower head. 

“And you’ll thank me later when you see the difference another minute or two makes,” you laugh. Calum can only watch. The water dripping down over your skin traces every line, every divot. Calum is no artist but he’d carve you into stone like the water is doing--highlight tautness of your muscles as you flex them, carrying over the curve of your butt. You are art work in a way that Calum thinks he understands finally the need to capture it in something so permanent. He knows he’d like to take his time to get every detail right. His memory is fallible. It’ll fail him eventually, but if he carved you into marble he’d always be able to remember the scars, the mole; every cell would hold to eternity in the rock. 

“You can rinse now,” you direct after letting the water wash away the soap from your legs after your final scrub down of them. 

Calum rubs his styling pomade over his palms--post shower and dressed, the only final touches are his hair. The extra time with the conditioner did soften it a little bit more than he’s used to this being. But that was information he was willing to give out easily. Though as he slips his fingers through his hair to hold the work of the blow dryer down, he is impressed. You watch from behind, fastening the button on your jeans into place. 

“You don’t have to admit it, but your face says it all,” you laugh. 

“Shut up. You don’t get to be right all the time,” Calum huffs. He wants to keep it together, be able to deliver the sarcasm with a straight face, but he ultimately cracks. His smile lifts his cheeks and he giggles when you shake your head at the antic. 

“I’m only right some of the time,” you answer. 

“Some, all, it’s all the same difference. Is Teagan okay by the way? You mentioned yesterday being worried about her.”

“I hope so. I really hope so. I don’t--I don’t want to assume anything right now, so it might be just a one off thing.”

“Well, I’m here for you and her. When you’re ready to say more just let me know. If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, just let me know too.” It’s clear the way you waltz around what happened that you don’t really want to say too much about it. Though it does make a small batch of worry stir in Calum’s stomach, he’s not going to force you to discuss something you’re not ready to discuss. He hopes it’s nothing. Hopes that maybe this is extra fret for ultimately nothing. But in the event that’s it’s more, he knows he’ll do whatever he needs to help you out. 

“Thanks, love. I appreciate it.” Your arms slip under his and you smooth a small fly away. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

Calum’s quick to direct you to the elevators on the way down to his car. He can still feel the slight quake in his thighs from the effort earlier when he squats down to get into the driver seat. It doesn’t help that just a couple days ago it was leg day in his gym routine. Yet, each time he forgets how long the recovery is from the torturous routine. The radio turns out immediately from the last time he was in the car, but Calum lowers the volume just a smidge. 

“Is there anything I should know before meeting your friends? Any subjects off limits?” you ask after a few minutes of being on the road. 

“You already know that Michael’s a producer. Luke’s got his hand in music, solo work. Ashton’s got jobs on jobs. Between his work to start a wellness app, he’s got a candle company. He’s working with Luke I think on some instrumental music. But they’re a cool group. Micheal’s married. Luke’s engaged. Ashton’s newly single so that might be a little bit of a tough spot, but if I’m honest, Violet wasn’t good for him so none of the guys are that torn up about her. We’re there for Ashton of course.”

“So a politician, a producer, a singer, and a hippie walk into a bar,” you start and Calum snorts. “And one of them says to the bartender, I need a drink that’ll help me through the day I’ve just had, with no major side effects and if I saw purple elephant at the end of the cup I wouldn’t be that made either, can you guess who ordered?”

“It was a group order,” Calum returns. 

“Correct.”

“And I wouldn’t say Ashton’s a hippie. He’d gotten into school on some scholarships, dude’s practically a whizz, but definitely tends to lean more spiritual and philosophical than not.”

“I’ll give him a fair shake, promise. It’s just--wellness app? Do you know the focus of it?”

Calum hadn’t gotten all the specifics. Ashton mentioned it during one of their last hangouts and by the time that it really sunk in what Ashton was doing, the conversation gravitated to something else--there were jokes, teases, and before Calum could digest in his slight alcoholic haze the idea, the topic was long lost. 

“We’ll find out more today I’m pretty sure though. He can go a mile a minute if you let him.”

“I’m excited to meet them then. See what kind of mischief you get up to.” Though Calum wouldn’t call it mischief himself, he’s excited too. 

____________________________________

The thing about first impressions is that you’ll never know if you’re landing them well. There are no do overs. Only ever grace and more grace. But as you follow the half step behind Calum into the bar, you’re hoping you won’t need too much grace. It’s not packed for a Saturday, not yet anyway. Though you think that it might be too early to make such judgment at only 8 in the evening. The night is still young and you’re sure that as the hours crept by more and more people would crop up. 

“Calum!” 

You hear the voice before you spot two men waving with grins on their face. They sit next to each other at the table for what appears to be situated for six. One has blond hair that faintly curls at the top. The other man has a shaggier cut with pink dyed ends underneath a beanie. Calum laughs as he greets them, hugs and pats on the back. They reach out for you too, unphased by your addition to the outing. The man with the beanie introduces himself as Michael and faintly curly haired blond introduces himself as Luke. 

Calum doubles down on such introductions, clearly missing the quiet exchanges but no one corrects him before you two settle down opposite of Michael and Luke. Calum pulls out your chair and you cut your eyes up with a soft smile. “Don’t,” Calum commands with a laugh. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you telling me he’s not pulling your chair out all the time? I raised you better than this,” Michael jokes. 

“I am a gentleman,” Calum counters, “at all times.”

Luke joins in on the ragging with a tsk falling into the air from the suck of his teeth. “Then tell me why I don’t believe you, son. Just doesn’t seem right over here.”

The banter falls between them easily. You know it’s the years, all the time they spent together. And just as quickly as it starts, it stops even though Calum squawks to your left that he is the picture perfect partner to you. “Yeah, but we’ve learned not to trust you.” Michael turns to you at the end of the sentence. “So, let’s hear your thoughts. On a scale of zero to ten where is Calum falling on being a gentleman? Pretend he isn’t here. Which I know is hard since he’s so loud right now,” Michael cuts in over Calum’s muttered huffs. 

You ponder the question, even as Calum slips his hand into yours, sliding a menu left behind closer to you, though one’s right in front of you. “Eight and a half. But he’s closing in on the 9.”

“I’d ask when I haven’t been a gentleman, but I fear the answer,” he snorts. 

“I have to give you room to grow. Don’t want you to get too comfortable,” you tease. 

Michael’s laughter echoes, even in the thump of the bass overhead. You hear his crackle. “I like you already. I’ve heard through the grapevine though that you’re starting a new job Monday?”

“Would the grapevine be about 6’2?” you ask. “But yes, Monday is my first day.”

“Are you nervous at all?” Luke questions. 

You shrug, playing at the corner of the menu Calum slid your way. “A job’s a job. The people seem nice so far, so not terribly nervous. I’m a bit more used to first days at new jobs though,” you answer. From what you gathered, there’s a strong likelihood that they don’t share a background like yours. You could be wrong of course. But given what they’re doing now, you’re not sure what kind of background they could have. 

“Sorry I’m late,” a scruffier voice calls out. “Sup, Cal.” They laugh and you look up over your shoulder to a man with almost shoulder length hair. There’s a slight wave to the warm brown strands. He smiles at you big and bright, the action making the sunglasses bounce just a little on his face. “I’m Ashton,” he greets, holding out a hand. 

You shake it in return, offering your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same, same. Again, apologies for my tardiness. Not the kind of first impression I want to give.”

But grace, but grace, but grace. “Consider the tardiness excused. Better late than never.”

His laughter is soft as he nods. “Right, right on.”

“I was about another ten minutes from putting together a search party,” Michael relays to Ashton as he settles to your right. 

“Nah, you can put the dogs back and let them free in the backyard. Though I don’t think South would dare get his paws dirty.”

“You have dogs?” you ask Michael. 

He nods. “Two. South and Moose.” Before you can even ask to see pictures, he’s pulling out his phone. There on the table, the screen lights up your face as you swipe through the gallery Michael pulled up. “South has the golden coat--very much a diva.”

“Last time I petsit him, he acted like he didn’t even know me,” Calum huffs. “Until it was time for him to go and then he didn’t want to go.”

“A diva,” Michael concludes. 

“They’re precious,” you coo, handing the device back after two more swipes. 

“Do you have any pets by chance?” Luke tacks on. 

“No, but I’m open to the idea. Just wasn’t feasible for a while.” There’s a nod of understanding but it leads down a tangent about Luke and his dog Petunia. It’s nice for the conversation to flow naturally. By the time you order your first round of drinks and some appetizers for the table, you learn about Luke’s older brothers, Ashton’s younger siblings, the way Michael, Luke, and Calum found each other in middle school thanks to band class. Luke’s mother used to teach Ashton as he is older than the rest of the group, resting right in the same age bracket as you. But even still, he’d been reached out by Michael in a string of bizarre fated events to guest drum for a gig they’d landed. 

Though the band didn’t live long, given Calum’s trip off to football camp in Brazil and an unfortunately timed injury to Ashton’s wrist, they still kept close. It floors you for a minute to learn that in addition to school Ashton had taken a job at a KFC. He’d been doing it to bring in extra cash for his family and thankfully through the gigs, he’d managed to worm his way into the music world. He didn’t let the job go fully until he was met with a do or die moment. To say Ashton did is an understatement, but there’s something still modest in the well worn leather jacket and faded t-shirt. You’re sure if you saw the brand’s name etched into either one of the items, it still might give you a heart attack, but something in the ensemble lets you know that Ashton is not overly frivolous. The items stay in rotation until they’re unable to be saved. 

“I’ll be right back,” Calum announces, pushing in a little closer to you. His lips press gingerly to your cheek before he stands. “No one scare them off while I’m gone.”

“Oh, we’ll behave,” Ashton giggled from behind his bottle. For a man who was newly single according to Calum, he was keeping his wits about him. He asked you questions, cracked jokes with Michael and Luke. Now without the sunglasses on his face, you spot the bright eyes to match his bright smile. 

“Calum tells us you paint,” Luke offers up before sucking the ranch off his fingers. “Working on anything new?”

“Oh, I’m almost finished with this painting for him. So, nothing new really. I should’ve been done ages ago, but something about it doesn’t feel finished just yet. We’ll see if it ever jumps out at me.”

“I’m sure it will soon,” Luke smiles.

“Would you ever consider doing art full time?” Michael questions. He goes in for another sip of his cocktail. 

“I much prefer it as a hobby, if I’m honest. I think I could see myself maybe taking it more seriously in the future, but I don’t know if it’s my next career move or not.”

“So you enjoy the restaurant life?” Ashton asks. “Or is that just where you prefer to stay in as your career?”

“A little bit of both, I guess,” you contemplate. “The industry is deadly  and I don’t want to be a linecook forever, but I think for right now, I prefer to say that this industry is where I make my money. When I leave work, I leave it--none of it comes back home with me.”

“Except for Calum,” Luke snorts. 

“I mean it’s not smart to shit where you eat, but so far it’s yet to blow up in my face so I’m hoping it never does. And technically, Calum’s not been to my place yet, so work has never actually come home with me. Can’t say the same for him.”

The boys cackle at your correction. “Fair,” Luke snickers. “I’m just happy to see him doing well again after everything that happened.”

The air feels sucked out of the room. Ashton and Michael’s smiles fall like bricks from their faces, clattering to the table beneath you all. You’re not aware of anything before, but now that it’s out there it sits on the table within arm’s reach like the wings and fries in front of you. Yet you don’t know if you should touch it. Don’t know if you should follow up on Luke’s line of conversation or pocket it for later. 

You reach for a fry instead, dipping into your side bowl of ketchup. “You sure know how to drop a bomb Luke. How’s the music going though?” 

You’re curious. What had happened to Calum before? As far as you were aware, he’d not been dating anymore, not seriously before you. Well, not that you knew of while you worked in the kitchen of course. The almost two years had been pretty quiet on the gossip train about Calum until you two got involved. But there’s plenty of time prior to that that you couldn’t account for. 

“So, you-you don’t know?” Michael questions. It cuts right under the question you asked to Luke. 

“No, no I don’t know.” It’s a simple sentence. Because you don’t. And you’re too tired to panic about what you don’t know. The worry of Teagan and Charlie outweighs whatever information you haven’t been given from Calum. 

“It’s a good thing,” Michael clarifies. “There’s been a really good change in Calum because of you. It’s not my place to tell you. But I do want you to know it isn’t bad.”

Luke sets his bottle down and pushes it with the tips of his fingers a couple more inches from his reach. “I’m sorry. Definitely should’ve been more careful about that kind of stuff. But it is good, like Michael says.”

Ashton scoots the bottle Luke pushed away closer to him. “Yeah, buddy, let me just hold onto that for you.”

It’s not fun to know that Calum’s withheld information. But you know that people will always play certain things close to their chest. You kept Teagan and Charlie close for so long. You kept your family drama close. Though it is a jolt, a shock to your system, you think it’s only fair that Calum has the things he wants to keep close too. Everyone has their demons. Perhaps the signs were always there. But there is always a reason. 

“So, everyone here is in music somehow. Who wants to go first about their current project? And please one at a time, or I will have to break out the talking stick, or rather talking bottle,” you tease. 

“Talking bottle?” Michael laughs. 

“Well, it’s a talking stick originally. Whomever has the stick speaks. Everyone else stays quiet and then it goes around person to person and back and forth between people if need be.” Your empty bottle of beer stares back at you and you lift a few inches off from the table. “But when in a bar, you improvise.”

“Are you saying we talk over each other?” Luke laughs with a bit of a squeal to his voice at the same time Ashton states, “I don’t really think we need to go that far.”

“If the boot fits,” you laugh. The fries have gone cold due to the time you’ve all spent talking, less focused on the actual drinks and food. But you reach for another couple as the boys bicker for a moment. They’re more like brothers than they are friends, as you watch them, reminding you of the way Teagan and Charlie interact with each other. It’s a playful banter, a quip always at the ready with them. 

“You okay?” 

You turn to the question, though you don’t need to. Calum’s scooted in a little closer to you. You can feel his warmth seeping into your back through his shirt on your body. “I’m okay. I like your friends.”

Calum’s lips are soft on your cheek. “Good. I think they like you too.”

“Try love them,” Michael corrects and no sooner than he makes the statement, he’s sucked back into Ashton’s claims that a band, you didn’t catch the name, is overrated. Ashton quickly reasserts he doesn’t mean it negatively. 

“They’re just too derivative of a derivative and ultimately aren’t producing anything cutting,” Ashton further explains. 

“We’re not talking about fucking algebra,” Michael quips. “We’re so far from the origins of the soundscapes for most genres. It’s all going to sound derivative, because it is. But it’s not about new, or shiny. It’s about saying it in a way that no one else has.”

It’s like Luke’s early faux pas didn’t even happen. Ashton and Michael verbally circle each other all the while Luke watches like one does a tennis match--Ashton then Michael. Michael then Ashton--back and forth for all it to end in a deuce. You wonder if either will ever get the two points to win. But the waitress comes by again and the collection take stalk of the table. There’s a few bottles scattered and you help her collect those, and order up on more drinks--some water, some sodas, a few more cocktails and alcoholic drinks thrown into the mix. 

“Would you ever take commissions? Even on the side?” Luke ponders. “Like one off projects and such?”

“Possibily,” you answer with a shrug. The majority of your work went to to a couple local places--the local children’s hospital enjoyed having your work on display as the children loved it. You’d gifted Teagan and Charlie small paintings after they begged for them. “Again, don’t want to make it my career, but you know if someone wanted to pay me to do something for them, I’d entertain the thought.”

“An original painting could do wonders at the local charity circuit,” Ashton pipes in. The comment isn’t for you and you peer over your shoulder to Calum. 

He stares wide eyed over his first beer that he’s yet to finish. “It could. But I-if it’s not your thing, you don’t have to do it.”

“Do what?” you question. There’s been no conversation about anything for charity in your presence. 

“In December, I have-I have a charity banquet to attend. There’s stuff that people auction off to raise money for the connected charities. I mentioned the the guys that it’d be nice to auction off something more meaningful. But I wasn’t sure if it was even appropriate to ask you about it. You’d only have two months and some change to finish it. There’s a website that goes up in the last week of November, a week and a half before the event so people can see the options.”

“Which charities?” You’d heard of the event, watched clips of the auction with more curiosity than true interest to watch rich people flaunt their philanthropy. 

“I think this year is focusing on women’s rights, especially the efforts on pushing law enforcement to investigate those missing. The deadline to submit proposals is in two weeks though. Which is like, not great planning on my end I know.”

“What do you normally auction off?”

“Volunteer time.” 

“How comfortable are you with volunteer time?” You’d at least think about it. It might be more than you could handle, but you’d chew the thought over. Especially since you did still have questions about whatever Luke alluded to earlier. 

“I like it; I don’t mind volunteering. It’s a nice change of pace honestly. Just--I think others should see your talents too.”

The blush that creeps up on his cheeks nearly melts you. Though your gut initially wants to dismiss it as the flush of alcohol, you know the truth. When Calum casts his gaze down and picks at his nails, you know that he’s a little shy in the confession. You take his hand gingerly on top of the table and the action is enough for him to look up. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

At the very end when the check hits the table, all four boys reach it, cards and cash in hand. Ashton ends up footing the bill but the rest of the boys hand over cash or tap at their screens to ensure Ashton’s paid for their portions. “How much do I owe Calum?” you ask, noticing the bill’s being split four ways instead of five. 

He shakes his head. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“More than sure.”

“I’ll pay next time.” It’s not fully a suggestion, but you still offer it softly. 

Calum takes a squeeze at your hand after slipping his phone into his pocket. “Okay.” It’s easy, simple. He smiles at you and the group pushes up from the table. Michael, Luke, and Ashton all give you hugs as you leave. 

“You’ll come next time too, right?” Luke asks. “We bring all the partners. Be a nice time, I think.”

“I’d be happy to see you all again,” you agree. The agreement leads to another round of hugs, the group spilling out into the outdoors. The night is darker, a little cooler than you first left it. Calum’s hold around your hand tightens for only a moment and you squeeze in return at the action. 

You know there’s always a better time, a better place. The parking lot of this bar definitely does not feel like the right time. But you’re not sure when it will be. “Luke mentioned something when you stepped away to the restroom. And-and I’d like to ask you about it.”

The tension thickens. Calum’s shoulders become rigid under the t-shirt. “It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Not a shut down, only a phish for more information. One you’re happy to supply. “It is good in a way. The group seems to be really happy that you’re in a good relationship. But the way Luke said it, it made me think there’s definitely something, or someone before.”

“I don’t want anyone else if that’s what you’re wondering. That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m-I’m not worried about that. I’m not really worried about anything. I just--whenever you’re ready to talk about what happened before, I’d like to know.”

You think that’s going to be the end of the conversation. You wouldn’t fault it at all. Perhaps, you’d been all too blinded by Calum choosing you that you hadn’t fully wondered what was going on in his past. You didn’t think the stories of Calum’s childhood could be a smoke screen. They were real. They were all a part of what made Calum Calum. But Luke’s comment cracks open the possibility that you’d been blinded. As hungry as you were to have Calum to yourself the reality of it all is that he’s not to be consumed. 

“I just--there’s stuff I haven’t asked you, you know? I want the bad stuff too. So I know how to be there for you. So I know how to love you.” The words fall, buzzing on your lips and tongue. You’d want to pick them up after they’ve fallen, but you know it's wasted energy. They’re out there now. You can’t do anything but watch Calum’s back. The tension has dropped. He doesn’t look ready to run. 

“Part of it feels ridiculous,” Calum admits. He tugs your hand, closing the gap between the two of you. “There’s so much worse that’s happening to other people. And my hurt just starts to feel small.”

“It’s not a competition of pain. Your hurt isn’t smaller than someone else’s.” You’re slotted against Calum’s chest. There’s no brim of a hat, no glasses to hide him away. There’s just the fear--plain as day on his face. “If I ever made this feel like a competition, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t make it feel like a competition. I think,” he pauses with a sigh. “It’s totally different. I feel like I want to love again. With you. It wasn’t always like that.”

Your fingertips ache. You want to cup his jaw, ask him to explain to you from the top what it was like before. You don’t, thinking a camera lens could be pointed at you right now. Perhaps there would always be and now it’s less about them and more about Calum. With caution, you trace at his jaw, trailing up until your palm rests against his full cheek. “I’m glad it’s better now.”

Calum’s eyes shut, lashes nearly brushing the top of his cheeks. Like babies root to touch, Calum turns into your hold, lips pressing to your palm with a kiss. “But it was bad. And you should know.”

“Only when you’re ready,” you whisper. You’re glad there’s no breeze, lest your words have gotten swept up in it. 

“Can I tell you on the drive?”

Your answer is only a nod. You want to do more, kiss him. Let him know you’re there. You think if it could be done, you’d crawl into his chest, whisper to his heart that you don’t have plans on breaking it. But this is not a fairytale. You know strife always comes. The only solace one can have is that they don’t cause too much of it. 

It’s quiet at first, as Calum pulls out of the parking lot and onto the streets. You watch the signs for the highway, watch Calum take the entrance ramp, spending up so that he can merge. You’re not headed back to the palace. You’re actually going in the opposite direction. You don’t know what could be out there, what Calum has up his sleeve. But you don’t question it. 

“Her name is Nora,” Calum starts. 

You know of a Nora-- a princess fit to inherit within the next three years. Her particular people believed in a matriarch. Though Queens took husbands, they almost always never turned over power. “Like Princess Nora or the girl next door to the palace Nora?” 

“The princess,” Calum answers, but he does grin for a brief moment taking a look at your face. 

There are no girls next door--you know that. But somehow the truth still unsettles. You don’t remember murmurs about Nora from the kitchen. The kitchen staff passed time in gossip. You knew more about the royal family you worked for and others merely because the gossip seemingly made the seconds fly by. You’d never cared for it before and didn’t care for it when you worked there. You let the others do the talking. 

“We dated back in college for two and half years.”

That’s well before you would’ve even been considering working for the palace. No wonder it hadn’t come up around you. “I’m guessing it wasn’t amicable.”

Calum shrugs. “I don’t know if amicable is remotely close. But it didn’t end badly. Just rough. When we broke up, I spent a year wallowing. I wanted to pretend I was okay, but she was my first love in a way. I’d dated before in high school, but they’d only lasted a few months. Not nearly enough time to mean anything in comparison.”

“I think your training in Brazil ruined you,” you tease, watching through the front windshield as the dark asphalt and street lights whizz around you. 

“I know, I know. Not a competition. But the crushes in high school were just that--crushes. We dated, held hands, kissed, but Nora was my first serious relationship. I’d been looking at rings.”

Rings-- the word bites at your veins. Calum doesn’t say it with ease, his hands clutching the wheel so hard his knuckles are paling. They’d been deep into the relationship--enough so that marriage was potentially on the line. Your fingers twitch to soothe his, but you restrain yourself given his work at the wheel. 

“Sounds like you never made the purchase?” you probe, hoping it’s as gentle as it can be. You are curious. You want Calum to know that you are listening too. 

“Never had the opportunity, thankfully so, I guess. Nora graduated in December and I graduated in May. She’d taken some summer classes to help get ahead and done some work in high school to get a head start. Nora asked me at the start of winter break, right after she graduated, if I intended on marrying her. I was honest. I told her that I would like to, after we both had a couple years out from school. There would be a lot of logistics involved.”

“Politcs,” you point out. “She’s a part of a matriarch. You’re in a patriarchal system.” The quip about you being lower class, how much easier it is to date someone with no political ties, burns at your tongue. But you know Calum. It won’t go well at all; he’ll beg you to stop the self deprecation, tell you that he loves you for you. It’s all things you know.  

Calum winces at the phrasing. “I mean that’s what it was. But at the time, I didn’t see it like that. I was idealistic about it, toxically optimistically probably. Not that I’m not the same now, but I hope not nearly as much.”

He risks a glance, like he poised a question. You only shrug at first, but then add on, "Optimistic, yes. Toxic, no. You know when you admit you’re wrong.”

“Improvement then, I guess, from then. Nora didn’t want to turn over her right to rule. I didn’t want to turn over my right to rule. And even if I told her she wouldn’t be, she didn’t see it that way. I thought she was being nitpicky. No one would care at the end of the day because her politics would still stand. I wouldn’t interfere with her work. But ultimately, it was--it was crumbling. The second I answered that we could rule separately but still be together and she looked at me with confusion--it was over. Rock meet glass house.”

You can imagine it--the strong brow on Nora furrowing as Calum spoke. The way she might’ve shaken her head and spoke firmly, black hair spilling over her shoulder as it always did in her press speeches. Nora is a force--fierce with seemingly little fear about the perception from others. Where Calum played a careful game, Nora played the explosive kind. She’s smart, by no means did her passion outshine her intelligence, but she was always speaking out first about things. She was one of the people rallying others. It’s easy to see how with Nora it became all or nothing 

Calum continues on, signaling as he speaks to take an exit. “I tried to date, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to be dating if I’m honest. I’d told myself that I’d just be single. I’d take on the throne and settle into that- give it five, seven, ten years before I married. It really wouldn’t matter. Luke was trying to set me up on dates. But they never went anywhere. Didn’t even want sex if I’m honest. I refused it a couple times and both girls and guys  thought I was crazy. Sometimes, I don’t know. Sometimes I did it anyway because it was a distraction. Nothing really numbed the pain though. There was just this constant ache I had. I’d envisioned myself a dad--playing sports in the back garden, or in ballet recitals for daddy and daughter dance classes. I’d always pictured myself on the throne, working in the Cabinet. Those weren’t things I’d want to give up, even for Nora. That’s what made it scary. She had her way of thinking. Her people rule the way they do and that’s fine. But I always knew I was going to be King. I knew even if I didn’t always want it that I wouldn’t give up on the responsibility.”

You can hear what’s between those words, what still causes Calum pain.  “But it meant giving up Nora, right? If you were always going to take your throne and she was always going to take hers, then the only thing left is what happened.” It doesn’t shock you to hear how much Calum dreamed of his future. You don’t worry that he still wants it—those things could all be worked out eventually. But you know that Calum’s so caught up on making things work for the best possible outcome that he doesn’t always remember that life is not always about the best. 

“Yeah,” Calum sighs. It’s heavy and comes deep from within his chest, “but I wanted it all. You know. I wanted her and I wanted to follow through on my duties. I wanted it fucking all and at the time, it felt like I’d lost everything. We knew after that conversation it wouldn’t be compatible. Nora and I’s relationship required sacrifices that we were too young and too driven to make. Nora deserves where she’s at. She deserves to rule. And I don’t think she could’ve been happy any other way.”

“Do you think you could’ve been happy any other way? As little as I actually know about her--and I reserve the right to absolutely be wrong about it--it was your relationship too.”

The roads are narrowing. You watch now as the dark asphalt lightens, there’s a few more bumps along the way. You round the bend and the ocean opens up in front of you. You know the beach is closed but it doesn’t seem to stop Calum as he pulls to a stop in the parking lot. The lights stuff off from the car, leaving you surrounded in the thick mass of the night. The sun’s long gone. The lights are off in the truck too. The engine knocks just a little as the vehicle settles. 

“I might’ve been, but if I’m honest I didn’t spend 4 years in college and 4 years under my father’s immediate wings for nothing. I’d been putting time into my own aspirations and I don’t think long term that relationship would’ve been good for me,” Calum answers as he turns to you. The seatbelt clanks against the plastic interior. “I hope the beach is okay.”

“The beach is fine.” You undo your seatbelt as well, listening to the way it winds back up into place. “Making the right choices sometimes isn’t easy,” you admit. Like the right choice to change jobs. Like the right choice to stay for Teagan and Charlie. Like the right choice for Calum to let Nora go. 

“Yeah,” Calum agrees. “Sometimes it’s not.”

You find Calum’s hand, threading your fingers through his. “I hope your choices next time are easier.”

“They’ve gotten easier,” he confesses. “Talking to you was easy. You always treated me like a person.”

“Because you are one.” It’s a simple answer, but you know it to be true. Calum’s just a person. Though he had politics about him, though he was in a world foreign to you at all times and even overwhelming, he was just a person like you. “You’re human like the rest of us.”

“Doesn’t always feel like it.” 

You don’t want to imagine the pressure on Calum’s shoulder, a pressure so unsustainable. But the wheel must spin. The cruelty of it all is that someone has to win and someone has to lose. 

“What’s the relationship like now with Nora? Is it still tense?”

“Not as much as before. It’s professional at this point, as much as it can be.” 

“Two and a half years is a long time though. Makes sense.”

“We tried to make it work. Six months we kept trying to keep pushing and find a solution. But we only sort of grew to resent each other. We were always fighting. Nora called it off, ultimately. She was the one that saw we were crashing and burning. I didn’t want to admit it even if I noticed it too. So to say it was amicable, not quite. It was mutual though.”

You know Calum even in the dark. You know the squint of his eyes, the way his cheeks meld to your hold. You know the catch of his breath when you brush your fingers over the veins on his neck. His veins thump under your touch and then you drag the touch up to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. That wasn’t easy for you, I can see.”

“I don’t particularly like thinking about it,” Calum admits. His throat seizes. You feel the small quake under your fingers. “I didn’t talk about it. Not even with the boys for a long time.”

“If there’s anyone that understands, it’s me. There’s nasty things in life sometimes. Stuff that we don’t want to talk about, don’t want to deal with. Thing’s we’d prefer to swallow down and never pull back up. I get it,” you assure. 

Something warm hits your fingers. It’s only a few drops--tears you assume. Pushing up, you find his lips, a kiss soft and sweet. Calum’s quick to grapple you, encase you in his arms and tug. You’re pulled as far as you can over the console. And you let yourself go. It’s awkward, your back hurts just a little. But Calum exhales into your mouth, shaky as he breathes. 

“Scoot the seat all back. You’re going to break my back,” you tease after the hug lasts longer than you anticipate.

“That’s now how I imagined doing it,” Calum teases, his breath ghosting over your lips. He reaches down to pull the lever and push the driver seat back. 

Settled onto Calum’s lap, you pull him back into your chest. His fingers are buried--under the shirt--pressing into your flesh like his digits can burrow deeper into your, pass the muscle and fat, into the hollows of blood and organs. You don’t stop him, just press a kiss to his forehead as you cradle his head. His body tremors and there’s the occasional sniffle. The tears are hot on your thumbs, but you wipe them away, slow and steady. 

“It’s okay, Calum. You can let it all out now,” you encourage. You know you can’t fix anything. You can’t change the past. But you let him release it. The thing about carrying things that are buried is that they tend to come back when you don’t want them too--like wild animals fed, the things that get buried only ever come back. 

Your stroke along his neck, over his shoulders. Your words are soft. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. You’re safe to let it out.”

The tremors cease after a long stretch of time, 10 or so minutes,--Calum’s crying reduced now to just the sniffles, just the remnant of tears that trail down his cheeks. With one deep inhale, Calum brings his face out of your hands and rests his head down on your shoulder. His lips brush at your neck, in what are nearly kisses. Your knees ache, you’re sure that when you finally sit your toes are going to tingle due to the lack of blood for the time being. But this is all temporary, not something you need to worry about when you can still hear the shuddery exhales of Calum. 

“Haven’t had someone in a long time tell me I was safe,” he whispers against your skin. His voice is thick with the tears and emotion he’s split. His arms constrict again around your back, arms locked as if attempting to cage you in. You know better. You know it’s for comfort. 

“Well you are; you’re safe with me.”

“Thank you.” The phrase is followed by a kiss this time to your neck. He follows the line to your throat with more gratitude on his tongue. He paints your skin with the phrase. You wonder when you shower again if the words will show up as tattoos on your throat. His forehead is firm in your sternum but you don’t mind the pressure when he falls back into the shelter of your body. 

“You’re welcome,” you return to Calum. 

His voice rumbles through your chest, you catch something that sounds like smell but you can’t fully place it. You thread your fingers around the back of his neck and squeeze. It’s not enough pressure to cause pain but it coaxes his head back. “I said you smell good,” he laughs. 

“Thank you,” you laugh. 

The dark doesn’t make it easy, but you imagine that his cheeks might be flushed, that there might be a little bit of pink to them. There’s some light due to the tall streetlights in the parking lot, but you two are far enough at the edge of the beacon of one and the end of the parking lot so it leaves the truck in the glow of a light and not fully lit. His eyes glisten though as he watches you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you huff, pressing at his shoulders. 

“Look at you like what?”

“Like you can’t help but love me.” 

“I do love you.”

It’s wrong to say what’s pressing at your teeth, do you love me enough for sacrifice. You know it given what Calum had just confessed. Maybe the two of you were still too young and too stubborn for the kind of love that required sacrifice. Perhaps it’s the kind of love that you had to mature into with each other. Calum wouldn’t have much to sacrifice, save for a few comments, a few sneers. You’d always have something to sacrifice. 

“What’s going on? You can talk to me,” Calum coaxes, hands moving from your hips to your cheeks, thumbs swiping right under your eyes. There are no tears. 

“It’s not a fair question,” you return. “It’s not the right time to ask it.”

“Will you ask it when it’s the right time?” Calum questions. It falls out quietly. You can hear it land into your lap, soft and fragile like the first snow. For a moment, you hope that this winter gives a fresh and deep dusting. The summer was warm and thick. You want winter to be cold. 

“If the right time comes up.”

“No, no not if, when. When it’s the right time to ask, you’ll ask, right?”

It’s a promise that will make you a liar. You know it. “Do you want to make me a liar?”

“Just this once,” Calum answers. 

“What if it’s never a fair question?” What if it’s just insecurity that you’re letting get the best of you?  

“This,” Calum returns, a hand waving between the two of your bodies. “This is not a glass house we’re building. It doesn’t always have to be a fair question. Just as long as it can be made into an honest conversation.”

A conversation--a much more fair objective. You bring your forehead to his--the beer’s a  faint ghost on his breath. All you can smell is Calum--the pomade in his hair, the cologne he sprayed on his throat and wrist that smells like expensive leather with a hint of sandalwood and something sweet like vanilla. You trace the veins in his neck, a steady thumping of his heart under your gentle press. 

“I’m not sure of many things in my life,” you start. “I never had the chance to live with certainty. I always keep that voice in the back of my head fed, that tells me you’ll grow bored. You’ll want someone with less baggage. You’ll need something more suited for the life you have. Because you’re a fucking Prince. I’m a fucking cook. It’s all I ever had--the cooking and a little bit of art to keep me going. But I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I like you. I love you too. But I wonder how far this can go. How far do you want to take it, you know? I don’t need announcements on social media or anything like that. I just--I keep the voice in the back of my head fed because what if all this leaves me.”

Calum’s lips are soft. His mouth sealing around yours in a kiss. His hands are warm on your face. The tears are hot on your cheek--yours this time. What if you lose it all? What if it all goes away? You cannot consume him. But you wish you could. 

“We never know what life’s going to bring, baby.” The silver bracelet Calum slipped on dazzles just a little in the glint of the faint light coming in through the car window. “I know I want to be with you. I know I want to wake up next to you. I want to take you on dates, even if it’s just picnics in the park. I want to show you off to my friends. I want to have a relationship with Teagan and Charlie too. I want to take you all out, have them crash some bumper cars, feed them too much fucking candy and make your parents hate me just a little because I always drop their two youngest off on a sugar high. I want to watch you paint and talk about our days together. I want,” he pauses. You watch his eyes flicker from your face to the space around the car. He’s searching. You don’t know for what though you do hope it’s the words.

You squeeze his face. “You want what?” You just want to hear the words: that Calum wants you. You know it’s true. You just need to hear it. 

He continues on. “I just want you,” Calum laughs, squeezing at your hips. “I want to adopt a dog with you. I miss my boy, Duke, so fucking much. He’s a hole in my heart but I know that I still have love to give. I know it’s not always going to be easy with me. I know it’s scary. But I don’t want these things with anyone else, baby. If I had the opportunity to beg life for anything, I’d beg for you; that you get to stay with me so that you can teach me things, so I can teach you things. You’ll have to stop feeding that voice. It’s a hungry bastard, but starve it.” His arms are trembling. The emotion rocks his voice. 

“Starve it,” he whispers. “I want you to starve that voice so that you can enjoy this too, so that you don’t keep waiting for the bad and start to enjoy the good thing in front of you. We’ll never know what life’s going to bring. I certainly didn’t think life would bring me you. And yet, it did. I’m so happy it did.”

It’s a rush, the surge in the centimeters between the two of you to seal Calum’s mouth in a kiss. I just want you. It’s terrifying to want. Here, especially with Calum. Wanting things didn’t mean you needed them. Wanting things didn’t mean you’d get them either. But you are lying if you say you don’t want Calun. You’re lying if you say you don’t want him to want you. And you’ve always known it. But knowing how far he was with Nora, a part of you just needs reassurance. 

Reassurance comes when Calum kisses back. It comes when he pants into your skin how much he waits for calls. It comes when he squeezes at your hips, rocks you over his pelvis. Reassurance comes when hands are deftly teasing skin under shirts. When you don’t waste time with either of you fully undressing, and you watch the fog creep up on the windows, you feel reassured. Reassurance comes when the gratitude Calum painted you in earlier turns into desire, when he tattoos into your skin I love you over and over with his lips and tongue. 

You need that reassurance like you need the graze of his teeth over your collar bone. Need the curl of his fingers into your flesh. You need the shuddered moans of your steady rhythm as your pelvis rocks up and down his. You need him. You crave him. You want him. You want Calum in every sense of phrase--you want to tell Calum about your day. You want to hear about his day. You want the dog too. You want Diana and Melvin to be pissed at the sight of you and Calum because they know there’s about to be too much sugar involved. You want to paint for Calum, want him to ask you about each color and each stroke. 

“I think you might be the death of me,” you whisper against his jaw. The tension in your stomach tightens as Calum bucks up against your clothed pelvis. You gasp at the feeling. You know the stretch of him, how well he treats you on his cock and tongue. His truck may not be the best place for it, but the thought crosses your mind to beg for it. That is until Calum responds to your statement. 

“No,” Calum groans, “No, I want you to live for me.” His hands slide up your back. The tug pulls you in with ease--your chest pressed into his. “Can you do that for me? Can you live for me?”

I want you to live for me. Another gasp leaves you. Body teetering on the edge of release but the shock pulls you far enough from the edge. You don’t want a glass house with Calum either. You want something real. Perhaps, you want something to live for too--needed it without really knowing you needed that kind of direction. 

You know you can’t live for Calum long-term. You’ll need something else eventually. But Calum’s the best start. You nod before Calum presses you down onto his bulge again. “I can.”

“Good,” he grins. “Now, c’mere.”

The rumble in his voice makes your stomach liquid. Your skin buzzes as you kiss him again. Your orgasm rockets through you as Calum’s tongue pants your mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, body quaking with the fire of your desire consuming you. “That’s it, fuck, baby,” Calum whispers against your mouth, his voice tight. 

Calum won’t be far behind you. You let your hand graze over his nipple, up to his throat. The hold is featherlight. But it’s enough for his eyes to flutter for a moment. You grin. “Make a mess for me,” you command, pressing harder into Calum. 

They say fire only needs oxygen--it takes one gulp and then bursts into flames, an inferno of a single spark. Calum only needs the command, the light press of your fingers at the sides of his throat before his body goes rigid. His gasp falls choked before you pull yourself in close, swiping your tongue over his parted lips. The ghost of his breath, the huff of air as he comes down from his orgasm fans over your face. You revel in it, grinning as you listen to his raggedy breathing. 

Calum laughs, head falling into the rest. You curl into his chest though there’s dampness from your own orgasms and Calum’s creeping in through the denim. “All that’s missing now is the handprint on the window,” he teases. Calum’s fingers are gentle over your back, tracing the length of your spine. 

You reach out to touch the driver side window. “Done.” The scent of leather swells your nose, long after you’ve slipped back into the passenger seat. Calum’s cologne is signed onto the hairs in your nose. The dampness of your jeans turns into a coolness as it starts to dry. Calum’s hand is warm on your knee. I want you to live for me. Insecurity is a useless emotion, yet it still reared it’s ugly head. You were glad to hear Calum’s reassurance. But his demand that you live for him; that you starve the voice in your mind that keeps waiting for the bad, is dizzying. When your entire world has been set in hiding, never being heard or seen, it’s unsettling to have someone draw you out. Calum wants to draw you. He wants you to live in a life that you’d been content with. You hope the spotlight doesn’t burn you.

[the-tiktok-rogue]

The Terror of Timothy Wright

It was halloween 1995, and little Timothy was so excited to go trick or treating with his mother, she got him this little theatre mask that was his favourite and he absolutely lit up, Janet Wright, Tims mother ruffled his hair and they went out together.

they went from door to door pretty easily that autumn night, and had a genuinely good time, enjoying going from door to door, Timothy and his mother sat down on a playground, little Tim swinging on the playground swing.

They both counted the candy together as Tim asked his mother a silly question “what am I dressed as mommy?” his mother giggled and said in a silly spooky voice “the boogeyman boo!” Tim theatre gasped and they both giggled, until Tim saw a figure in a suit across from the other side of the playground.

Timothy walked over to the tall suites figure and asked “who are you? I like your halloween costume.” Tims mother was looking at him bemused but let him speak.

The tall shadowy figure loomed and tilted its head as Tim continued “i’m dressed as the boogeyman, my mommy got me this mask especially, you wanna share some of my candy?” Timothy asked about to hand it to him, but when Tim looked up the figure was gone.

Little Tim walked back to his mother “I guess he doesn’t like candy.” he said to her, his mother tilted her head and laughed to herself “You have such a vivid imagination Tim.” , Tim continued “He was dressed like a cool james bond spy, and he left like one as well, I never got his name.” , Janet smiled “So you’ve got a new imaginary friend, that’s cute.” Tim was caught off guard “but I did see him mommy I did” he said insisting to her “i’m sure you did baby” she kissed his head “it’s getting late though, we should go home.” they finished for the night.

Months passed and Tim started seeing this man in different places, local parks, school, and even at home, at first he thought he was his friend, but he started to cough, have headaches and even seizures over a while, he kept telling his Mother but she wouldn’t believe him, he’d wet the bed and sleep with her in her bed, but the spooky man would follow him still.

The scariest thing was Tim not remembering big gaps of time, he would wake up in different places without any memory, except having that mask his mother gave him in front of him.

One scary evening he heard his mother speaking on the phone to someone, he heard the words mental hospital, and delusional.

Tim started shaking, were they going to take him away from his mommy? she was the only one he had since his parents got divorced and his dad left, he didn’t want to be alone.

His mother lied and said they were going to church, and then took him to this large hospital building, Tim didn’t want to go but his mother practically dragged him inside kicking and screaming.

“Tim this is for your own good, Stop fighting and this will be easier” she picked him up and carried him inside tantrumming “I know you don’t wanna leave mommy but your sock, you’re sick and you need help” .

Tim screamed “mommy I don’t wanna leave you please don’t leave me mommy please don’t I don’t wanna be alone with the boogeyman!!!” Tim screamed but Janet brought him inside, a man in a white coat injected him with something and he passed out, when he woke he was in an office with his mother talking to a doctor.

“He’ll be staying here for a long time, we’re looking at maybe 12 years, until we can cure him of this illness”

Tim’s mother spoke in a concerned voice “i’ve seen him try and jump off a bridge trying to kill himself, running out late at night in a mask, making himself sick with worry, don’t know where he gets it from though, maybe his dad, he was an alcoholic and had horrible mood swings before we got divorced, I just can’t take it anymore.”

the man in the white coat spoke clinically to her “you did the right thing bringing him here, we’ll be able to handle him don’t you worry.”

Tim felt his stomach turn and looked at his mommy “c-can I atleast keep the mask you gave me, it’s the only thing I have left of you mommy” Tim begged, his mother sighed and gave him the theatre mask “remember the mask is a part of me that’ll always be with you, protecting you, okay?” Tim nodded “okay mommy, thank you” Tim almost cried again and before he knew it his mother was leaving and he was being dragged to what looked to be a a weird yellow wall room with a bed, little did Tim know this would be the last time he’d ever see his mother.

Several hours passed and they kept him locked in this room, it was lonely, and boring, he couldn’t leave, he couldnt run around like a kid his age should, he was just stuck in this one room all day, he had a little window to look through atleast, another room was there and he saw another brown haired boy, Tim on a whim tried to make friends with him.

“Hey, over here!” Tim shouted

the other kid looked over him done

“what do you want.” the kid said in a droll voice

“I’m Tim, have you seen my mommy?”

the other kid spoke in a serious voice “kid let me be real, you ain’t ever seeing your mom again. once you’re in here, you ain’t leaving.”

Tim whimpered “I don’t wanna be alone…can we be friends.”

“tell you what, you get me cigarettes, and i’ll be your friend or whatever.”

“what’s your name?”

“names Jordan, i’ll teach you how to walk the walk and talk the talk here so it’s atleast bearable for you, ‘sides I feel sorry for you, you remind me of myself a couple years ago.”

“I keep seeing the boogeyman, that’s why mommy brought me in here.” Tim explained unprompted

“Yeah Im in here cause I saw someone called mr smiley the clown, no one believe me either but i’ve got the cuts and scars to prove it” he rolled up his sleeves on his mental hospital uniform and showed off his cuts then they heard the guards arrive and Jordan spoke again “hide in here you’ll get in trouble if you’re caught speaking to me.”

The guards walked in and served Tim some food, when Tim ate the sandwiches they gave him, he started to feel woozy and passed out.

Tim woke up then next day and Jordan spoke up “yeah you gotta be careful they’ll slip medicine in your food to try and keep you woozy, I always look through my food before eating.”

Tim smiled for a second “thank you for helping me, that was the first time I got sleep for quite a while.”, the guards came in to serve breakfast and while they were in Tim quickly snook a hand in the guards pocket and found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, Tim quickly chucked it in through the window to jordan’s window.

“yess this is awsome, I haven’t had a smoke in fucking ages.” Jordan celebrated

“I used to do that at school, pick pocket for change, to get pick and mix” he smiled

“yeah well it’s paying off champ good job.”

several days off this happened until Tim had his first mental breakdown in the hospital, that figure appeared in his room, and he couldn’t run, he couldn’t leave he clawed at the wall screaming all through the night.

“ITS THERE ITS THERE IT CAME FROM RIGHT THERE!!” Tim screamed crying

“IT WASNT ME I SWEAR IT WASNT ME LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!!!”

Tim sobbed in excruciating pain, this being looming above him getting closer and closer until he passed out.

He woke up, in a park, with the mask in front of him, Tim smiled, his mother was protecting him, he put the mask on like a super power and started to wander the park, he walked down a pathway to a tunnel, when his surroundings changed, and he was in the car park outside of the park.

He read the sign outside Ross-wood park, like rosswell the ufo sight, Tim laughed, god it was nice to be outside that prison, but before he knew it he heard police sirens, two cops came out and grabbed him dragging him into their car and before he knew it he was back to the hospital, they rifled threw his pockets and found the key to his room.

They upped his dosages and forced him to take medicine before shoving him back in his room, he passed out again after this, and the weeks started to zoom past over and over, before he knew it it was 1996.

one morning Jordan spoke to Tim

“Were you close with your parents?”

“yeah my mommy, she was my best friend, my daddy always hit me though, I never liked him.”

“yeah I was close with my mom and dad too, My dad worked in a hardware store, and my mom was a nurse, I woke up one day after mr smiley the clown stalked me for months, with blood all over my hands, and my parents bleeding on the floor, but I swear I didn’t do it, it was Mr Smiley. he was in the corner laughing at me!”

Tim cut him off “I believe you Jordan!”

“thank you. no one’s ever said that to me before I appreciate it.”

Tim smiled and ate his sandwiches, he’d gotten good at faking taking the pills by this one, palming them and them hiding them in the room.

Then one night he saw that horrible man in black again, he felt for his pockets and found his keys, he must have stole it from the guards in one of his memory gaps, he opened his door and ran all the way to a maintenance tunnel hiding all night, the guards didn’t find him till morning though, and they dragged him back to his room, they slapped him in the face and threw him back into his room one of the guards saying they’d give him something to cry about. Tim sobbed all night that night.

years passed again and before he knew it it was 1998, every so often the Doctors would take him in for essentially therapy sessions where they’d tell him what he was seeing wasn’t real, he used to fight them, but he got good at lying and telling them that he knew it wasn’t real.

They diagnosed him with schizophrenia, and upped his doses once again to an orange case of white pills, Tim took them and they started to let him and Jordan interact with the other patients more in a living room, one of the other in mates Jason started bullying Tim though “little pussy hahaha probably west himself every night, boogeyman boogeyman waaa waa!” Jordan stood up for Tim “hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about fuck off!”

“watcha gonna do mr smiley, gonna honk your clown horn at me!” Jason laughed and so did his cronies, that set Jordan off, he leapt onto Jason and started beating him, punching him until he was black and blue, the guards grabbed him, slammed him against the wall and injected him as he screamed all sorts of swears.

Jordan was put in solitary confinement that night and Tim didn’t hear from him, needless to say Tim wasn’t bullied by Jason any longer after that, Tim chortled to himself.

Before Tim knew it the years the flew by again, it was 2000, and someone new came to visit Tim, it wasn’t the guards, Jason, or the faceless man, but a figure with a skull for a face.

Tim was unnerved, just as he was about to open his mouth the skull faced man spoke instead “don’t scream. I have vital information for you.”

Tim tilted his head

the skull faced man continued “the faceless man you see is real, he is called the Operator.”

“what does he want?”

“to take you to the ark, his own dimension, and feed on you.”

the skull faced man crossed his arms and sighed “i’m sorry but your friend is going to die. he has his sights on him next.”

“Jordan?! no he’s my best friend can’t I stop it?!”

“it is inevitable, but do not worry, I will collect his soul so he will live on in me.”

“what does that even mean. Who are you?!”

“think of me as the grim reaper, but don’t worry, you will soon be free of this place Tim.”

Tim chased him but the skull faced figure vanished out of existence, had Tim dreamed all of that?

Jordan was starting to act strange, not mentioning me smiley anymore but a tall faceless man, he was coughing and displaying all the same symptoms as Tim, had Tim infected him?

months passed and one night Jordan was screaming, this had happened several times but Tim peaked out of his bedroom window into Jordan’s and he noticed Jordan had a pair of shears against his neck.

“Jordan don’t do it you’re my best friend! I can’t be alone again!”

Jordan spoke in a fugue state “I’ll be back with my parents, so long cruel world”

“Jordan no!!!” Tim screamed and watched his friend slit his own throat, hearing him collapse, he clenched his fist and ran to the wall punching it over and over as he cried, he was alone again, he had no mum or dad or Jordan, nobody. he was truly alone.

The next day he saw Jordan’s body being taken away by the coroners, and Tim escaped again acting up even more, flipping plates and throwing chairs and screaming “don’t you see!! can’t you HELP any of us you bastards!!!” they grabbed Tim slapping and punching him in the gut calling him crazy and all sorts of slurs, they put him in a straight jacket and brought him back to his room strapping him to his bed.

Months passed like this, almost half a year, and Tim was imprisoned every day in this straight jacket, no freedom in sight, until he saw the skull faced figure again appear in his room, the figure walked up and freed him from his straight jacket.

“It is time for your freedom.” he spoke with a reserved joy and handed him some matches, a lighter and the orange capsule of pills “burn this place to the ground and take these, they’ll help you in the future.”

Tim cried for joy.

“Thank you.”

The skull faced person left and Tim lit the matches starting with his room, he checked the door and it was thankfully unlocked, he lit several more and lit the halls ablaze, before he knew it he was outside watching the mental hospital, and the annex burning, a fire truck arrived but it was too late, everyone had been evacuated and by the time the mental hospital was finished burning it was very clear he wouldn’t be coming back.

2 years passed and Tim now in a foster home, he was going to monthly therapy sessions and generally doing better, the pills leveled him out and Jordan was a distant fuzzy memory to him now, he transferred schools and eventually went to high school.

It was 2004 and Tim was at the cafeteria of his high school, a man sat next to him with short blonde hair and a beige hoodie “Hi i’m Brian, I saw you and your own and thought, this kid looks like he needs a friend.”

Tim smiled shyly “u-uh i’m Tim, nice to meet you.

then it was 2006 and him and Brian had brought him to an audition, he met this guy named Alex Kralie and read his script, he went off to apple bees afterwards and swore he saw a thin figure in the distance, nah, must’ve just been his mind playing tricks on him, life was good.

[spacefinch]

The kids from the Magic School Bus (the classic series) would absolutely thrive in the Tumblr ecosystem. They’ve definitely got the right vibes.

Here’s what I think each student would post:

Arnold: doesn’t post much, but when he does, it’s usually about rocks or something geology related.

Ralphie: posts a lot. Sports, memes, whatever movie he’s watched most recently…

Phoebe: lots of cute animal photos (and some not so cute ones.) This includes her cats. She is also the most active “current events and social justice” blogger of the crew.

Carlos: Jokes and memes (most of his own making, others he just found). Also lots of Vines and references to them. He also has some “life story” posts.

Tim: art and photography blog. Much more organized than Carlos’s account.

Wanda: memes, music, adventure stuff, you name it. She also posts about life as a herpetologist’s daughter. (Example: “today my mom brought home an alligator and put it in the bathtub. I just wanted to take a nice hot shower and now I can’t. Smh”)

Dorothy Ann: 100% part of the “science side of Tumblr.” Every day she posts a fun fact, and her tags are VERY organized. She also posts reviews of her favorite books.

Keesha: standard Tumblr personal blog, but with some extras. This includes: movie reviews, fact-checking other peoples’ posts, and her own short films.

Other notes:

They all follow each other’s blogs and interact often.

Of course Ms. Frizzle has her own Tumblr. I’m not sure what exactly she would post on it, but it would definitely be worth reblogging.

Janet also has her own blog. Her snark is outmatched only by Keesha.

Mikey (Carlos’s brother) is a very active blogger. He posts stuff about computer programming mostly— including his own games and links to them. He also talks a lot about being disabled, how it affects him, and fighting for accessibility.

There is also a fair amount of friendly roasting and teasing that goes on both on Tumblr and the crew’s group chat.

[carleighalpha]

Vixen By Nature Pt 2

{Y/N} is dealing with morning sickness, but here comes McReynolds to the rescue!

Rating: T

Word Count: 460

Imagine: Fluff

Warnings: Fluff Overload

{Y/N} was currently feeling all kinds of sick as she rubbed her small belly. Being two months pregnant was something that came with drawbacks. Morning sickness and heavy cravings. She loved the sexual drive it gave her, but she groaned as she quickly got up and ran to the bathroom in her apartment. The sounds were a lot for McReynolds, but he came after her and held her {H/C} hair so it didn’t catch any vomit.

“ That’s it, let it out.” He said as he rubbed her back. Two minutes passed as {Y/N} upchucked her breakfast, but it soon ended. She pulled back and got up. She quickly brushed her teeth. {Y/N} quickly flushed the gross evidence down.

“ When does it end?” {Y/N} asked as she grabbed a tanktop and put it on.

“ Well being in your first trimester, it should end rather soon.” Glen said as he held her. She smiled as he walked her to the couch to lay down. He placed a hand on her belly and softly rubbed it.  

“ Looking all sexy.” Glen said as he looked deep in her {E/C} eyes.

“ Oh stop.” {Y/N} said with a small blush on her cheek.

“ You have such a cute glow on you. I see you absentmindedly rubbing your belly when I look towards you, even when you sleep. When you crave fruit, you have these cute little dimples that curve your smile when I bring it to you.” Glen said as {Y/N} began to slightly tear up.

“ Hunny!” {Y/N} said as she rubbed Glen's cheeks as she kissed his nose. He smiles at her before picking her up and carrying her to the bedroom.

“ Let’s plug in a movie, eat some strawberries and mango slices.” Glen said with a smile. {Y/N} squealed at this and Glen chuckled. He got her under her favorite fluffy blanket and went into the kitchen. He sliced up some big strawberries and mango. As he returned, he saw {Y/N} plugging in Rocky Horror Picture show, her favorite movie. He smiled and sat down next to her.

“ Tim Curry in this is amazing.” {Y/N} said as she saw Tim Curry show up in the elevator in full attire in front of Brad and Janet.

“ It's just a jump to the left.” Glen said as he lifted a mango slice up and {Y/N} smiled before eating it.

“ Such a musical head.” He said as {Y/N} smirked as tint in her cheeks lit up.

“ I can’t wait.” {Y/N} said with a smile as Glen held her close. His body heat pulled her into a deep sleep. Glen just smiled as her smile stayed on her face while she slept deeply.

[chachachachurro18]

I love that for a lot of ROTTMNT artists who have created kids for the turtles, it’s either one of two scenarios.

1) One turtle has one kid (maybe a partner too) and the rest of the turtles are just the best uncles ever.

Or

2) One turtle has a whole little family and the other turtles don’t.

Meanwhile I’m over here like:

You will all find love and create cute little families with at least two kids for each turtle. The Hamato clan will grow!

And I’m not exaggerating about it. Allow me to elaborate:

Raph is the last to find love. He meets a frightened lioness yokai named Maya in the hidden city. She has a young child, a son, with her. His heart goes out to her and brings her to the lair. Long story short, the son bonds with Raph and Maya falls for Raph. Two years later, he takes in a painted turtle mutant as his own.

Leo is the first to find love and marries his girlfriend Janet after four years of dating. With a mix of science and mystic powers, they have four kids together.

Donnie and his girlfriend Whitney, due to being a same turtle species, manage to have five kids in the more natural way. Two sets of twins and a singleton; they also consider Shelldon as one of their kids as well. They get married shortly after their first set of twins turn one.

Mikey marries his girlfriend, a dog mutant, Juliet, of eight years shortly after their set of ‘twins’ are born. Fours years later, they take in a fennec fox mutant.

So in the end:

Raph has two kids and a girlfriend.

Leo has a wife and four kids.

Donnie has a wife and six kids.

Mikey has a wife and three kids.

I love family dynamics where aunts, uncles and cousins are super close. I myself came from a big family but was never close to my extended family on either side.

So if I can’t have it, my OCs from TMNT and my own series will have it. :D

[jadelotusflower]

Stargate rewatch: 1x04 The Broca Divide

I forgot how early Colonel Makepeace showed up in the series.

Jack has the night vision goggles over his cap, lol that helmet is never going back on.

RDA swiping the Zorro symbol on the event horizon as the VFX supervisor weeps.

The MALP lights are indeed broken when they get through - implied to be by the Touched.

Daniel and Jack being reluctant to intercede in a rape is gross. Daniel in particular in these early episodes has his anthropology blinders on in a very unfortunate way.

Gerard Plunkett as High Councillor Tuplo, admirably pulling off very silly hat. Gotta say, I dig the costuming this ep. These are some Looks right here. Lean into it, you know?

Who are the “good gods” in this scenario?

Sam and Daniel on Team Science vs Jack and Hammond on Team Who Cares, but consideration of the cultural value of the mission becomes official policy - this feel like it should have been before Emancipation chronologically?

This episode has a shining light, and it’s the introduction of Dr Janet Frasier.

“Mr Teal’c” So damn cute.

Daniel drinking coffee again, every available surface of the SGC just littered with his empty cups.

One of the show’s strengths is that they don’t (for the most part) sexualise or objectify Sam, she wears the exact same uniform as the guys - but there’s a few early missteps like the tank top that feel like an attempt to please the studio.

Daniel refusing to leave Melosha on the dark side - feeling guilty about his non-action earlier? In the span of an episode he’s gone from non-interference to “we can’t leave her here”.

Great scene between Jack and Janet - Teryl Rothery just exudes so much warmth.

“How can you be so without heart?” Aww, Teal’c!

I do kind of lol at them making Daniel’s disappearing allergies a plot point - from this point we can assume he takes his anti-histamines every day and never sneezes again.

The Land Of Light will become refugee planet du jour for the SGC.

I wonder if they ever did find out why bulls were so prominent in Minoan culture?

[thattimdrakeguy]

Does the following sound plausible for a ‘Janet Alive and being a Good Mom’ AU…(clears throat)

Janet is giving a piggyback ride to her exhausted son, carrying him to his bed after the latter had a long day with the Core Four due to SuperCycle shenanigans

Robin!Tim, tiredly: “Um…”

Janet: “Yes, Timmy?”

Robin!Tim: “How come you can’t fly or use heat vision?”

Janet, light giggling before answering: “Eh, maybe it’s just I don’t need to. Superman got that covered”

Robin!Tim, satisfied with his answer: “Oh right….Love you”

Janet, whispering with such a loving smile on her face: “Love you too, Baby”

well, if we go after marv wolfman's naïve, adorable, socially--um bizarre...super hero fan boy timmy, then I'd say yes

janet is shown as being the more caring loving parent--even if she still ended up neglecting him with jack, we still see her being the more protective parent

so timmy would probably be more open with being more silly and less stressed with interacting with her compared to the grumpy, unpredictable jack. which makes it reasonable to believe timmy would say stuff that comes to his mind without much filter, and since he's a goofy super hero fan boy--this sounds about right

and since you asked my opinion, i'd say yes, very plausible, and very cute

[gothamslostboy]

Hey there! Was wondering if I could request a ship? I just found your blog and I love it!

Been in the Lost Boys fandom since I was 12 but I just found the fandom on here recently! (My LB blog is waitaminute-whowantstoknow)

If you’re not taking requests I totally understand!

Fandom: Lost Boys and Scream

Preference: I’m pan and I really have no preference

Favorite Animal: OWLS! And cats and bats!

Music taste: I love 80s and 90s music, goth rock, metal, I love H.I.M. And The 69 Eyes. Anything I can rock out to

Gender: female

Physical Appearance: I’m kinda short (5’3), kinda plus sized hourglass(if the bottom of the glass was a little bigger haha) around shoulder length wavy dark green hair, blue/gray eyes, lots of tatoos(including a chest piece that takes the whole space with bats and flowers and a large tarot card) and piercings

Clothing style: comfy goth? I wear a lot of black leggings and crop tops with a flannel or my battle vest or my leopard print faux fur coat, vans or big boots, a charm bracelet I don’t leave without

Personality: mom friend(have you had water today??). Loudly opinionated and really loyal, will fight for my friends, I like to think I’m funny, and I just really love talking to people so I’m the really chatty friend

Traits in a partner: I want someone who’ll make me laugh, who will be just as obsessed with me as I am with them(loyalty is huge for me), someone who will love that I need to be touched basically all the time(physical touch and quality time are my tops), someone I can chat with endlessly

Hobbies: I’m a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcaster so I perform as Janet, Rocky, and RiffRaff regularly, I love to write, I make crafts out of comic books(flowers and signs), I love games(video, arcade, tabletop)(surprisingly good at pinball) and I love reading, I’m obsessed with theme parks(had a pass for every one in Southern California when I was still living there)

Favorite movie genre: I love campy movie, comedies, mysteries, horror, but also cute Disney movies and fantasy

Thank you so much! I hope you have a great day!

Hello @its-freaking-bats ! Sorry this took so long, haven’t been feeling very well, and I’m sorry it’s just lost boys, I haven’t watched scream in a while and I can’t be sure about a match, but I’m think Stu!

THE LOST BOYS:

He definitely has dressed up as dr. Frank n’ Furter one year and will be so impressed you’ve been in the musical and is high key jealous

Y’all go on dates where you two ride every ride at the boardwalk, go to the comic book store (avoiding the frog brothers glares), then you teach Paul how to make different things out of them. He’d be estatic if you gave him a flower crown btw

He is also good at pinball and will challenge you to a tournament w/ the boys to find the best in the group

Honestly Paul fits your ideal partner perfectly & y’all like the same movies so it’s a match made in heaven

Y’all rock out together and chat for hours when Dwayne, Marko, and David are busy and Paul loves to trace over your tattoos:]

[xsupticbars]

The first 15 minutes or so of Janet’s first stream yesterday was so sweet 🥹 when she said “I never dated anyone just for fun whenever I date someone I’m like ‘we’re getting mARRIED💅💅💅” she’s so cute I actually can’t

I LOVE HER SO MUCH 🥺🥺

You're right she's so cute and she's so real, i love how she isn't afraid to talk about certain topics on stream.

They both seem serious about relationships. Like Janet says when she isn't single she's in a serious relationship, and Steve was with Alyssa for years and was engaged. I want them both to be happy 🥺

Also thank you to the anons that send me cute stream moments! I haven't had much time this week to watch streams and I would have missed these moments if you guys hadn't sent them to me <3

[renee-writer]

Baby Girl Chapter 20

AO3

They go out that night before another case makes it impossible. She is nervous, having dated very little. Her focus was on her education and then work. Now to be going out with someone from work, it has her stomach tied up in nuts.

 

What to wear? She stands in front of her closet  scanning through her available items. Nothing feels right. Finally she chooses a little black dress. You can’t  go wrong with that, right?

 

Minimal make up, her hair casually pulled back, she is ready. The door bell rings and her heart jumps. “Come one Beauchamp. It is Jamie. Your mate. You can do this.” She tells herself as she sooths down the dress and walks over to the door. She opens it.

 

He, dressed in a button down off white shirt and jeans, stands holding flowers. Handing them to her, his eyes roam, taking in her long legs, previously unseen bare in all their glory. “Hey Claire. You look stunning. A real knockout.”

 

She blushes as she takes the bouquet. “Thank you and thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.”  She hurries to place them in water.

 

“I feel overdressed.”

 

Another blush. “ I wasn’t  sure what to wear. Little black dresses are always appropriate, I thought?” Her teeth work her bottom lip as she worries.

 

“Oh no, you are right. Your dressed wonderfully.” He offers his arm and she takes it. They walk towards his car. “My lady.” Said as he opens the door. She smiles and slips in. Closing her door and the wonderful clean and somewhat green smell of her perfume in. Walking around, he finds she has reached out and opened his too.

 

“Manners, eh?” She grins at him. He returns it.

 

*Indeed.”

 

They make a point not to talk shop as they drive to the restaurant.  Instead, they discuss the other members of the team.

 

“Exactly how smart is John?”  

 

“Oh he is a certified genius.  Has a perfect memory. Everything he sees, reads, hears, experiences, he recalls. “

 

“A blessing and a curse in…”

 

“Aye. Being the youngest doesn’t  help either.”

 

She rests her head on her hand and looks over at him. *Who is the oldest?”

 

“Murtagh .” he laughs, “He is nicknamed  ‘Godfather’ because he makes it his mission to look after everyone.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

They pull up in front of a cute little restaurant. He comes around and opens her door and offers his arm again. With a brilliant smile, she takes it. They walk in.

 

Sitting across from her, orders taken, he asks, “So tell me about yourself, your family.”

 

“I am an only child. My dad has one brother, my darling Uncle Lamb. “

 

“Lamb?” he raises his eyebrows.

 

“Quinton Lambert. He goes by Lamb. He is the man who has raised me since I was five and my parents passed in a auto accident.” She says it without a break in her voice. He knows she has reached a stage of acceptance. Still, he lays his hand over hers.

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Thank you. I was blessed to have Uncle Lamb. He was father and mother, best friend and counselor. He took me in without a word about how it would disrupt his life. He was a archeologist when I came to him. He became a professor so I could have stability.”

 

“Sounds like a wonderful man.”

 

“He is. Your turn. Tell me about your kin.”

 

He smiles. “How many generations back?”

 

Her eyes roll. “Your parents will do.”

 

He settles back in his seat, preparing to tell  a tale. She grins in anticipation.  “My parents meet when they were in upper school. She was a Mackenzie and her parents had no love for the Fraser’s …Well, she snuck out the window and into his car…They we’re married before her parents discovered her missing.  William was born nine months later. Janet, who everyone calls Jenny, three years after him. Myself three years later.”

 

She is fascinated by the story. “Did your maternal grandparents ever forgive them?”

 

“Aye. With Willie ‘s birth. Nothing like a grandchild to thaw cold hearts.” Their meals were served during his story. They take a few minutes to eat.

 

“It is just Uncle Lamb and I and you have such a large family.”

 

“Aye, let’s see there is Willie and his wife,  Rose. They have two children, Brian, after my dad and Violet to go with Rose.  Jenny and Ian have, Wee Jamie, Maggie, and the twins, Janet and Michael.”

 

“Wow!”

 

“I am the only one not married with children. Jenny frets about it but my mam, Ellen, she tells her to let me be. That the right one will come and then I will settle down.”

 

She grins over the last of her fish and chips.  “Been a bit wild, have you?”

 

Now with the blokes he would answer that differently. But with her, honesty wins out. “No, only two serious girlfriends. One in uni and one a few years back.”

 

“Two. That isn’t bad.”

 

“Not at all. My sister considers me unsettled until I get married. “They share a laugh. “How about you?”

 

A flush and her head goes down.  She debated how to answer this question. “None.” Honesty  wins.

 

His blue eyes, almost  indigo in the candle light, grow huge.

 “None?” She shakes her head.

 

“No I was a socially awkward teen and young adult. Then my career  consumed my time.” She shakes her head again. “That is true but not completely. I wanted someone as giving and understanding as Uncle Lamb. It couldn’t be just anyone.”

 

“I think that is wonderful. To be so sure of who you want.” He draws closer across the table. Both their breaths still. She sees the gold that runs through the red in his hair. He sees the same in the brown of her eyes. They sparkle like whiskey. A second and then…

 

Both their phones ring at the same time. “Blast it!” he mutters. It is Murtagh. They have a case.

[brw]

A, B, D

A - Ships that you currently like a lot.

ScarletVision, WonderBeast and ReedSue all go without saying, they live in my head constantly n I'm obsessed with them!! However, been giving a lot of thought to T'Challa ships recently, specifically T'Challa/Namor, T'Challa/Reed and T'Challa/Blackagar Boltagon, they all have different vibes but sort of similar premises bc they're all Leader4Leader n it tickles my brain a lil. uhhh BenReed also is wonderful and I'm thinking abt them, and the upcoming @doomreedweek has given me brainrot for those two. Exclusively from this one horrible 2000s AU by Englehart I've found Charles/Hank to be kinda funny conceptually. Together, combining forces, they can make one whole abled person, thats #teamwork. Also MindBug is just a cute name lol.

Here's a list of others I really like; Sue/Medusa, MedusaBolt, StormSquared (Sue/Ororo), both variations of the GammaBug concept (Jennifer & Janet, Bruce & Hank), Bill/Hank, Pietro Maximoff/Ares, Storm/Logan/Nightcrawler, Kurt/Piotr, JeanWanda, BobbiJan, GilgaHerc, IceAngel, Forge/Banshee. I might not talk about these ones as much but please, always feel free to bother me about them <3

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

Uh BenReed definitely took a bit to grow on me while ReedSue and DoomReed were more immediately arresting, I believe it was this fic by @lamujerarana that opened my eyes to their potential :) @cosmicrayed has been with me in establishing Crystal/Sue, which maybe isn't a ship ship of mine but is just funny with how much of a mess Crystal is, she's the polar opposite of a manic pixie dream girl. manic pixie nightmare girl.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Hmmmm........ I guess I struggle with most Scott ships, I can't really suspend my disbelief that Jean and Emma are down that bad for him </3 and Scogan is kind of fun but again, it doesn't quite work. 90s JeanScott is a vibe IG, but contemporary JeanScott just makes me tired :( I guess also Bobby / literally any of the modern men we've seen him with, I guess a lot of the time Bobby feels too... modern? like he should still feel like a 80s accountant to me, so seeing him be all cool and modern and young-ish feels wrong. and that weird feeling of things being off impacts Christian or Romeo, despite me knowing how the sliding timescale works. Also, I would have preferred they give a new partner to Bobby than aging up Romeo </3

also SpideyTorch. I acknowledge something gay is going on there but I just don't care abt these 20 something y/o twinks. It's not my thing, maybe if Peter becomes an anthro spider I'll change my mind but never got into PeterJohnny alas. or Peter in general </3

A to Z fandom asks

[sweetcrazyluvie]

would you mind?

boyfriend!jungwoo x afab reader

18+ mdni, smut

summary: jungwoo doesn’t last long inside of you so you have to take some control.

wc: 1k

cw: unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, girl idk I was horny as fuck (still am) and I won’t him so bad

now playing: ♫ would you mind - janet jackson ♫

jungwoo hisses through his teeth as he pushes himself into you. his face dives right into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and then letting out a sigh of pleasure and relief.

“uh, baby, shit I’m think I’m coming…”

“but you just put it in?”

“I know…”

“wait-”

“f-fuck–sorry…”

jungwoo is five strokes in before he’s emptied himself into your warm walls, his whines and moans so sweet and loud.

“oh my god, woo. seriously?” you laugh softly.

your hand finds treasure in his ruffled hair and the other on his cheek.

“what? it’s not my fault you feel so good,” he whines.

“I do?”

“yes, baby,” he says, face flushed red in embarrassment.

you giggle and then kiss the mole under his eye.

you guys are already in a missionary position so you wrap your legs around his waist to lock him in better as you can feel some of his seed begin to spill out of you.

this seems to get your boyfriend going again as he starts to rut his hips into you with rhythm.

“you’re not gonna last long this time, huh?” you tease.

“with the way you’re squeezing onto me, I might not,” he confesses with a shaky voice.

you can’t help but laugh at him a little bit. it’s so adorable.

“hey! it’s not funny. I’m trying, you know.”

his release makes it easier for him to slide in and out of you along with the little white, creamy ring of love that has formed right on your entrance.

you can tell he’s holding back to make himself last longer for you—his eyes shut closed and his whimpers more subdued.

but you don’t want that; you want him to feel good.

“come on… it’s ok. I don’t mind.”

he groans loudly when you clench around him on purpose.

you smirk at this, already knowing your next move to get him to unravel.

“please daddy. I want it so bad,” you coo.

that’s when his hips start to stutter and he looks at you with eyes full of desire.

“shit, can you say that again?”

“hmm?” you tease.

“baby p-please. i need to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

“daddy… need you to come in me so bad… please...”

you wrap your legs tighter around him, pushing him closer into your walls. and just like that, you feel yourself getting filled up to the brim with his love.

“aaa… that’s not fair…” he whimpers as his hips pathetically grind into yours, cum still shooting into you.

“you’re so cute.”

his hips are still moving into you as your walls suck him dry and your hands run smoothly along his back.

it’s endearing the way he kind of trembles in your arms but tries to hide it.

“think you gotta another one in you?” you ask.

“yeah,” he says weakly. “need to make my baby cum too.”

he looks spent already though so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

you flip him over so that you’re straddling his hips, hard cock still in you.

“h-hey!”

he tries to get up in protest but you place your hand on his chest and push his body back down onto the bed so he lays flat.

“no. it’s my turn. and I wanna ride.”

“but y/n-”

before he gets to complain more, you roll your hips onto his and it shuts him right up. instead, he whines in his sweet, honey-like voice again for you.

“touch me,” you whisper, guiding his hands to your tits.

“mmm…” he mumbles quietly.

he fondles your breasts with his huge, warm hands and pinches your nipples just the way you like. he knows all the things that get you going even at moments like these when your body is too much to handle for him.

it gets you to squeeze your walls tighter on him, earning back more delicious moans from your boyfriend. he is always vocal for you and the way you feel and that’s something you have always adored about him. you hate that he tried concealing it earlier because you laughed, but happy that he let those walls fall down.

you lean in to kiss him with passion and heat. your tongues collide as you just moan into others mouths, the pleasure only intensifying.

you alternate between moving your hips back and forth, then in slow circles, and then bouncing up and down.

the slaps of your skin and the wet sounds only ignite the adrenaline in your body.

“jungwoo~” you whine as you let go from the kiss, desperate for release.

you feel it building up in your stomach, the euphoria bubbling to the surface.

you keep riding him—riding the edge of this dangerous pleasure. his cock starts to twitch in you and you know he’s about to cum for the third time. he’s drunk on your walls and the way you feel.

he’s a moaning mess under you.

and even then, you rest your forehead on his and helplessly moan “I love you daddy” over and over again as you chase your high.

“baby…ahhh..hhh” he chokes out.

his hands abandon your boobs and head straight to your hips to guide you up and down his thick cock that is now dripping with your incoming release.

the feeling is indescribable. all you know is you need to finish and need him to finish inside you too.

“daddy… love you… love you so much…” you babble as the searing pleasure wants to rip you open.

“s-such a good girl for me.”

you hands latch onto the top of his head, gripping onto the hair they find. your mouth is like a magnet to his face, kissing and sucking anywhere it can.

“that’s it, baby, you got it.”

and your walls clench with all their might.

“yeah just like that, cum on daddy.”

jungwoo’s nails dig deep into your skin as his head tilts backwards.

then his warm ropes coat your plush walls. and seconds later, the pressure in your stomach snaps and you gush all over your boyfriend’s cock.

jungwoo helps you ride it out, hands still guiding you with care and love.

you both are at a loss for words as the rush comes down. so you just shove your face into the crook of his neck and start to plant kisses all over his neck and jaw.

“I don’t know how you do it, baby.”

“I don’t do anything special,” you say. “But I think I just made you become a daddy for real.”

he laughs at this and runs his fingers through his hair, looking at the ceiling.

“I might as well just seal the deal then, huh?”

“wait what?”

he flips you over and then pushes your knees to your chest. he inserts his cock into you again, and with only a couple of strokes, he is pouring into you for the fourth time.

once he pulls out, he uses his long fingers to push the seed back into you, making sure every last drop doesn’t go to waste.

“ok, baby…that should do it,” he says confidently.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

a/n: let’s pretend this was posted on jungwoo day ijbol. and yes I titled this after that one freaky ass janet jackson song 😭🤦🏽‍♂️

[msclaritea]

"As someone who has struggled with ADHD for years, since childhood, and into adulthood what I want to say is this:

My diagnosis is not your costume.

I’m not “neurodivergent” or “special” I have trouble sitting still and concentrating.

I don’t need to be glorified or praised. I need access to a standing desk or a little bike underneath the desk (I bought one myself) and some earplugs to drown out noise (that I also bought myself).

It’s not anything “special” or “cute” it’s a disability.

Oh and most of you who are “discovering this condition as an adult from watching TikTok videos”

You don’t need prescription stimulant medication

What you need is to put your phone down and stop taking high powered stimulants that make you a cRaZy person and then when you act like a jack a** say “sorry that’s my ADHD.”

You don’t have ADHD, you have a phone addiction, and taking the FDA approved equivalent of cocaine is not going to help you stop ranting at people on X.

Also acting like a psychopath is not part of ADHD.

I’m so tired of reading articles in major newspapers like The Guardian about axe murdering serial killers “he was diagnosed with ADHD as a kid” yeah and that has absolutely ZERO to do with why he’s a serial killer Janet.

It’s two things. Two.

1. Can’t focus for very long

2. Can’t sit still very long

Having ADHD does not grant you “fairy unicorn powers” or give you license to be a complete problem to everyone in your life.

“Yeah Audra I have it to!! I’m neurodivergent and we’re sisters!”

You’re not my sister, I don’t claim you, go away. The whole point of getting treatment for ADHD is to BLEND IN TO SOCIETY

Not to wear it as badge of honor meant to be celebrated.

I’m livid reading this article. Absolutely livid."

If you're wondering what's going on, it all started with the Enlightenment, as far as I know. That group of privileged, prominent men who championed dignity, Liberty and Freedom...for themselves. Everyone else did not matter. These are the men that came up with dividing people BY RACE. It's the same group who are behind turning young people online into their attack dogs, based on certain situations; Autism, LGBTQ. If you can convince people they have a special grievance which the rest of society is completely ignoring or worse, holding you back, persons can then swoop in as saviors, and talk you into anything. Very acute divisionary tactics. Look what's going on with the Gender Ideology cult. People's lives are being torn apart from all of this manipulation.