#also why heartbreaks (the new sensation) Miles ?!

[nicoscheer]

The fucker (love him very much) is actually gonna perform colour of the trap (co written and dedicated to none other than Alex Turner) with him standing side stage (so basically performing just for him) (I'm gonna have a hoarse voice before AM even set foot on the stage)

Also love the scratch in his voice during heartbreaks (new sensation)

Colour of the trap performed by Al

The reel (paint it black)

The full performance of rocking all over the world

Maybe it's just coincidental but like why do 90% of his song recommendations be having lyrics that scream Milex (repressed feelings, rejection, fake relationships...)

I know it’s not from Miles but I love that Davey occasionally does these AM throwbacks (despite the story before basically saying that he can’t wait for tour to be over to go home)

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Are they by any a chance hiring 😅

[misskattylashes]

One Man Band Track by Track Review

Right, so I have listened to the album twice. Miles wasn’t lying when he said it was banger after banger. But while the music is upbeat the lyrics are in places dark. Touching on self-doubt, insecurity and loneliness. For me OMB is the yin to CDG's yang. Both confessional (depending on your beliefs – both largely about the same person) but while CDG is an album of heartbreak, OMB is an album of hope. It seems Miles has found himself, and judging by the last track, he has someone who loves and understands him. And well, it all kinds of explains why he is so happy these days.

Troubled Son

This song could essentially be called I am approaching middle age and I am coming to terms with the person I am. Good and bad. Musically this track always reminds me of The Strokes.

Lyrically, despite beating himself up a bit, it is a song of hope. Once you face your own demons you can start to battle them.

This is the song that will get people singing at gigs. The lyrics are relatable to so many of us and it would be quite cathartic sharing the fact you’re a bit fucked up with several thousand people doing the same thing.

The Best is Yet To Come

Miles has admitted this is a song about being on the lash with his mates Big Lou and Romeo. Musically the driving rhythm and backing vocals are reminiscent at times of Queens of the Stone Age. Hard to explain, but this track is the most traditional Miles Kane and could have quite easily come from an earlier album.

One Man Band

Can I just start by saying there are not enough words to describe how much I love this song! Another song of self-reflection. I promise not to make too many comparisons to You Know Who, but as I have said before, the characterisation reminds me a lot of the character in Mr Schwartz. The performer who puts on the front to entertain people and make them happy, whilst hiding a lonely interior. But whilst Mr Schwartz is heart felt ballad. Miles being Miles. One Man Band sounds like sunshine.

Never Taking Me Alive

The most bonkers track on the album. Musically driven by surf guitar, lyrically an excuse for Miles to sing about his Italian American Heroes – De Niro, Pacino and Sinatra. This is a hype song. The sort of song you stick on on your way to a job interview, to pump you up.

Heartbreaks (The New Sensation)

Probably the weakest track, but still a banger. It evokes the image of a former girlfriend back in Miles’ mod day (retro boy trying to chase away time). With its Motown beat, this could have fitted easily into Change The Show. I mean it is a feel good banger, so to say it is the weakest shows how brilliant all the other tracks are.

The Wonder

Okay, anyone who follows me knows who I think The Wonder is about. So I won’t linger on that. In a nutshell, a song about realising a former lover and all the complications they bring is worth it, and this time you are going to put your fears aside and take a chance. The highlight for me are the rich backing vocals at the end, elevating it to almost gospel level.

Baggio

The happiest song in the world. I have analysed this before. In a nutshell, little Miles Kane is enthralled by Roberto Baggio and his flamboyance and realised its fine to be yourself. It is also a tale of hoping to reconnect with a lost love (cough cough)

Ransom

A mellow track about being afraid of falling in love because he is positive he is going to get heartbroken. However the object of his affections has hold of his cynical heart and he can’t afford the ransom, meaning he can’t escape them. A plea for them to be tender with him because he is trying to find a way. The final refrain being ‘cos I’d anything for you’. Whoever they are he loves them big time!

Doubles

I'm sorry but this is a Milex song. A happy upbeat song with Miles telling ‘the person’ that he is scared but he is missing his ‘Two player high’ but he will wait for this person. The middle eight lyrics ‘Never say never, never say never again, never say never I wanna know where it ends, I’m never in doubt when my heart starts to fall, there’s nothing in my life that I have wanted more, anymore’ ahhhh. This is also a sort of dancing in your bedroom alone song. Or maybe that’s just me.

Heal

This is the epic track of the album. With a heavy, rich musical arrangement, it is like the sequel to the Coup de Grace album. Where Miles was heartbroken, disillusioned with life in LA and at his lowest ebb. He acknowledges he needed time to heal to get to the place where he is now. Once again, gospel style backing vocals elevate the track to the next level. It is another song of hope. Facing up to the fact that we all have to endure the shit times in life to become the people we are.

Scared of love

A sweet acoustic ballad, where Miles opens his heart to his lover. Telling them he is sorry for holding back, but they sweetly tell him they understand because they know he is scared of love. Another song of hope. It would seem he has found love and whoever they are, they are there for him to help him fight his demons.

In no way does the last track inspire a fan fic in me.

Total score 5/5

[andreafmn]

Choices - Part 1

Word Count: 3,913

Requested: by me; inspired by a TikTok POV

Story Description: After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner? 

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part: 1/3

A/N: I just gotta say I only have spoiled knowledge of what happens in Endgame because I refuse to acknowledge its existence and I’ll never watch it. Anything I write that is not cannon, whoops. But this one-shot is inspired by a POV I stumbled upon in TikTok and I just needed to write. Had to divide it into two parts because it was getting too long.

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                                                        ***

 It had taken 6 years and losing almost everyone we loved for Steve and me to admit our feelings for each other. After seeing our closest friends dissipate into fine dust we decided life was too short to wait for the right time. 

That was 5 years ago. Our relationship had been solidified as the years went on and the loss of Nat and Tony in the Battle of Earth only bringing us closer.

But something had changed. These past few days Steve had grown distant and quiet, only acknowledging me when we were in our bedroom or stuck in training. All I could attribute it to was that he was nervous about traveling to return the stones. Normally, he would talk to me about what was clouding his mind but nowadays he was acting as if we were strangers. 

Thankfully, I had a friend to occupy my time with. Bucky and I had developed a close friendship since meeting him back when he still was the Winter Soldier. Being part of his recovery was the catalyst to the relationship we have today. Losing him in the blip was horribly heartbreaking but it brought me and Steve closer. Now that he was back, I was able to have someone I could confide in the understood the Captain’s brain. 

“Hey, Buck,” I announced my arrival as I saw Bucky getting some water in the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Not really,” he sighed. “The nightmares, you know?” 

He was right, I did know. Although I wasn’t blipped I had my own demons I was still battling with. “Yeah, I get it. I’m making grilled cheese, do you want some?” 

“Grilled cheese? At 3 am?” He chuckled. “What’s wrong?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Come on, (Y/N). You only eat grilled cheese at this time when you’re worried about something.”

“You know me too well,” I sighed. “It’s Steve. He’s been really weird this past few days.” 

“Weird how?”

“He’s been kinda avoiding me lately and I don’t know why.” A few tears were threatening to spill, but I did my best to dry them before they fell. “It’s like nothing I do is good enough, like he’d rather be anywhere but close to me. Does he hate me? Is it something I did?” 

Bucky got up from the chair he was sat in and wrapped me in a hug. I couldn’t hold off the tears this time. “There’s nothing you could do that would make that man hate you, he’s probably just in his head about traveling in time.” 

“I thought so, but why wouldn’t he talk to me about it. There’s not a single thing we haven’t been able to talk about up to ‘til now. What’s so important about this that he can’t talk to me about it.” 

“Don’t stress yourself over this, doll. I’m sure after tomorrow everything would go back to how it was.”

Bucky’s POV

And at that time I did believe it. Knowing Steve I really thought he was just nervous about the journey he had to take in the morning. That was until he said he needed to talk with me. 

“What is it, punk? You too nervous?” I chuckled until I saw the serious face he held. 

“I need a favor from you, Buck, and you might not like it.” 

“You’re scaring me, Steve. What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but think that this had to do with why he was avoiding (Y/N). 

“When I go back today, I’m not coming back in 5 seconds.” 

“What are you talking about, Steve?” 

“I’m going to stay back and have a life with Peggy. This is my last chance to be with her and I’m taking it,” he ran his hands through his face. He knew what he was asking of me and he knew it wasn’t fair. “I need you to tell (Y/N) for me once I’m gone. She’s gonna need someone to lean on and I need it to be you.” 

“You can’t do that, Rogers. It’s not fair to me and it’s definitely not fair to her. (Y/N) loves you with her whole being. This is going to crush her.” He had been ignoring her out of guilt and he was leaving all these feelings behind in a couple of hours, leaving me to deal with the aftermath. “You know, she’s been beating herself over you avoiding her and I thought it was just nerves. But this is a new low; the Steve I know would never do this.” 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I just think it’ll go over quicker if it comes from you.” 

“What you’re doing is cleaning your hands of a mess you’re making.” The anger was boiling inside of me by now. (Y/N) did not deserve this ending, she did not deserve to have her heart broken in such a cowardly way. 

“Please, Bucky. I don’t think I could tell her face to face.” He took a paper out of his back pocket. “I wrote her this letter, hopefully, it’ll help things to smooth over. Please, Buck, please. You have to believe me when I tell you the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

I snatched the letter from his hands and guarded it in my jacket pocket. “I’ll do it only because I owe you my life and she’ll need someone once I break her heart for you. But, I get it.” 

“Thanks, bud. I know that for now, it must seem like a horrible thing to do but hopefully in time you’ll see my point of view.” I accepted the hug he offered. Although my head was telling me to be loyal to Steve, my heart was breaking at the thought of breaking (Y/N)’s. 

Before I knew it, Sam, Bruce, (Y/N), Steve, and I were standing in front of the machine that would be the catalyst of inevitable heartbreak. 

3rd person’s POV

“Well, this is it,” Steve whispered. They were standing to the right as Banner made sure everything was ready for Steve’s trip. 

“You know, it’s not too late to back out,” (Y/N)’s hands traveled to his chest. “We can have someone else go.” 

“It has to be me, (Y/N). But I’ll be back before you know it, doll.” His head lowered and left a deep kiss on her lips. They lingered for longer than usual, and she couldn’t help but imagine that there was an underlying message to it. “You know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, right?”

“Of course, Steve. I love you, too.” (Y/N) smiled and kissed him once more, allowing him to engulf her in a tight hug. “Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you too.” 

“I will,” he smiled. “Now, I’ve gotta go.”

“I know, be safe.” She smiled once more as she watched Steve get on the machine. She made her way over to Bucky, his arm circling her shoulders. “It’s just 5 seconds, right?” 

“Yup,” he smiled, ignoring the burning sensation coming from the paper inside his jacket. “Just five seconds.”

“Ready, Cap?” asked Bruce from behind the control panel. Steve nodded, one hand on Mjolnir and another on the case that held the Infinity Stones. “Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?” 

“You bet,” he responded. Two of the people present knew that it was a lie, but no one else had picked up on it yet. His head was encircled by the helmet and he stared at the two people that meant the most to him in this lifetime. Hurting them was the hardest thing he had to do, but he had been living for everyone else for too long. He decided that it was time to do something for himself. 

“Going quantum in 3, 2, 1,” Bruce announced. A breath hitched in (Y/N)’s throat as the time went down, all she had to do was brace herself for five seconds. Banner hit the button and (Y/N) had to blink various times to fully grasp the disappearance of the man she loved. He had vanished as quick as a thought, one second there and the next just a memory. “And returning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1....”

Nothing. Bruce clicked the button and nothing happened. The body of Captain America was nowhere in sight. 

“Bruce, what the hell is going on?” (Y/N) spoke up, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was heard. Her mind raced a million miles an hour and she could feel her legs giving out. Had it not been for Bucky’s left arm, she would have crashed to the floor. Bruce stammered with his words, not knowing what to say. “Bucky, where is he, Bucky? Where’s Steve?” 

Bucky knew it would hurt to see her cry, but this was shattering his heart. Her body was falling limp in his arms and the tears were streaming out of her eyes faster than he could dry them. Her words were slurred but he understood the gist of it. She was hurt; she was betrayed; she was beyond heartbroken. 

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Bucky led her to the tent that was propped up behind them. “There’s something you should know.” 

“What is it, Buck?” She sobbed. 

“Please don’t hate me, but Steve is not coming back.” The girl looked up at her friend, not know what emotion she was feeling in the moment. Her tears stopped momentarily, needing to hear the words that would spill from Bucky’s mouth. “Steve decided to go back in time and have a life with Peggy. He needed you to know that he didn’t want to hurt you. He also left you this note.” 

Her shaky hands extended to take hold of the piece of paper Bucky handed her. She dried away the tears that were clouding her eyes and began reading. 

My dearest doll,

 If you are reading this letter, you know I am not coming back. I decided to take hold of the chance to have the life I would’ve had if I stayed in the 40s. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling in this moment, and I’m sorry for all the hurt I know I’m causing you. I need you to know that I never knew I could love someone after Peggy and I’m thankful for all the years we had together. I was in love with you and I still am, but I could not continue on knowing I have a chance to answer one of my biggest ‘what if’s. I could not go on in our life with the weight of my past on our shoulders, you deserve better than that. I hope you can pardon how big of a coward I am being in the moment, I knew I couldn’t do this face-to-face and you deserve at least a worded explanation of why I left. You are strong, amazing, beautiful, and deserving of all the love in the world; I’m sorry I couldn’t provide it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on and be happy, even if it’s not with me. I also hope you don’t hate Bucky for being the bearer of bad news, he didn’t know until today and I gave him no other choice thant to tell you. If there’s someone that can understand what you are feeling right now, it is him.

I hope one day you will forgive me for this,

I love you until the end of the line.

Steve

She folded the paper back up and broke down once again. Bucky engulfed her in a hug and held her as she shook. “He’s gone, Buck. He went back to be with Peggy. I wasn’t enough for him.” 

“Oh, doll, I’m so sorry.” 

“Guys, we’ve got to head back,” Sam peeked his head through the tent, heartbroken by the view in front of him. “I’ve got her, Buck. Go get the truck started.” 

Bucky released (Y/N) into the arms of Sam Wilson, and left to start the car to head back to the tower. Sam ran his hands over the sobbing girl’s hair trying his best to soothe her. Even though he didn’t fully understand the situation she was in, he got the jist of it. After everything was packed back up, (Y/N) had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms, so he picked her up and laid her on his lap to not wake her. She would be needing all the rest she could get. 

“You guys good back there?” Bucky asked.  

“Yeah, she’s out like a light,” Sam whispered. 

“Good, she’s gonna need all the energy she can get to recover.”

“What happened?” 

“Steve decided to stay back and be with Peggy; left me to tell her the news.” Busky gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were pale white, his anger building up inside him. 

“Wow, I never expected that from the Cap. I don’t think it’ll be easy for her to move on from this.” He looked down at the sleeping figure in his lap, wiping away the few tears that had slipped out in her slumber. “She might be physically strong, but she’s very sensitive and rarely gets attached.”

“I still don’t understand why he chose to do it this way. The little punk.”

The duo waited until Banner was inside the truck before leaving the spot they were in and back home. Unbeknownst to them, behind the trees, a figure stared at the scene in front of him with a broken heart.

                                                           ***

It had been almost three weeks of robotic movements from (Y/N). She would wake up, sometimes eat, sit in front of a window and stare down the New York skyline; other times she would lay in bed wearing one of Steve’s shirts and sprayed the room with his cologne as she sobbed into his pillow. There were the nights that she drowned her sorrows in a bottle of whatever liquor she could find, until the other members started hiding the bottles. But that didn’t stop her from stashing a couple of bottles in her closet. Nighttime was always the hardest. (Y/N) had grown used to falling asleep in Steve’s arms and being engulfed in his warmth. Now, she thrashed around in a bed that was too big, too cold, and too uncomfortable.

The rest of the team had tried their best to lift her spirits, but nothing seemed to work too well. Sam tried his best to make her favorite meals, which she gave thanks for but rarely ate, pushing the food around in the plate; Bucky tried to entice some emotion by asking her to join him in clearing his list of movies to watch to catch up on the times, but she would zone out for most of the movie; Bruce would ask her to join him in his afternoon reading sessions, but every time she picked up a book she re-read the same page over and over not retaining a single word; Wanda would try her best to get her to partake in normal hygiene practices, which the girl had held off on for a couple of days, only getting her to shower every other day.

(Y/N) was a walking zombie, doing the bare minimum to survive.

But today she had woken up differently, her heart hurting a little less than the other days. She got into the shower, brushed her teeth, and even got dressed in her own clothes. It was three in the afternoon, but she was up. She was detangling her hair when her bedroom door opened.

“You’re awake?” Bucky said, startled to see a clean and awake (Y/N) in front of him. “Don’t mean to sound so surprised, but I came in here with the intention to startle you awake once again.”

The girl chuckled and continued her brushing. “Thought it was time to do something by myself.”

“Here, let me.” Bucky took the brush from her hands and started brushing through her damp hair. It finally smelled of her normal shampoo and conditioner, and not a mix of her hair oils and Steve’s cologne. The smell of strawberries and vanilla emanated from her head and Bucky couldn’t help but breathe in deep. His left hand ran the hairbrush through her hair as his right hand smoothed it down. (Y/N) leaned into his touch and smiled at the comforting strokes he was providing. Unknowingly, Bucky started humming a lullaby under his breath.

“What are you humming?”

“It’s a Russian lullaby I overheard one night while under HYDRAs hold. There’s not much I like to remember from those times, but this I don’t mind.”

“I like it,” she rocked to the movements of his hands and smiled as she listened intently to his humming. She couldn’t see him, but the veteran was smiling at her. It had been the first time she had shown any kind of emotion in the time that had elapsed. He finished her hair in a sloppy braid, not fully understanding the mechanics of the three-strand braid. “Thank you, Buck.”

“How’re you feeling today, (Y/N)?” He finally asked.

“I’m feeling better, don’t know how long it will take to get me to 100% but I’m feeling like a 45% today.”

“That’s good to hear, you know. It’s better than where we started.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth his body emanated. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Have not gotten up to that point.”

“Well, Sam’s already cooking up something in the kitchen and I’m on the second movie of The Lord of the Rings, so we can watch that one.”

“Okay, that sounds good.” She smiled at the man that was next to her as they exited her room.

The rest of the team had gathered in the kitchen, working on ways to cheer (Y/N) up when they saw her emerge from the hallway with a small smile on her face. Everyone’s jaw fell open when they saw the girl looking partly human and with a spark of energy. It had been a while since she had resembled the (Y/N) they knew and loved.

“Guys, please pick up your mouths off the floor, your eyes do not deceive you.” (Y/N) joked.

“Glad to see you’re alive, (Y/N),” Sam spoke. “Come have some food.” 

She smiled at her friend and sat next to Wanda as Sam placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her. Bucky served himself and her a cup of coffee and added the cream and sugar she enjoyed with her drink. She happily munched on the food as the people around her stared in astonishment.

Thankfully, the staring didn’t last long. Wanda and Sam had a quick recon mission and Bruce had some work to finish in the lab, leaving Bucky and (Y/N) to enjoy The Two Towers in peace. Bucky had the curtains drawn and the movie all set up as (Y/N) took out blankets and made a hole between all the pillows that adorned the couch. The duo settled into their spot and bundled themselves in the blankets, settling in for the 226 minutes of the extended version of the movie.

She wasn’t sure at what point in the movie she fell asleep, but she was woken up by Bucky softly shaking her awake. She mumbled something she didn’t even understand, so Bucky decided to carry her to her bed. (Y/N) had burned too much energy by being around too many people too fast. It didn’t seem like a lot but being around the whole team had taken a toll on her. The sun had started to set and so were the last slivers of happiness she had felt.

Bucky set her down on her bed, tucking the blankets around her. He turned to leave when a small hand wrapped around his right wrist. He looked down and saw a teary-eyed (Y/N) looking up at him.

“Stay, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper and it trembled slightly. She was the vision of the heartbreaking scene that had hurt him three weeks ago.

He smiled softly at the girl and went around the bed to climb in. “Today was hard, huh?”

“Yeah, I thought I was ready to go back to normal, but it took too much out of me. I feel so useless.”

“You are far from useless, doll. You’re hurting, darling, we all understand.” He pulled her in close and laid her head on his chest, the thin layer becoming wet with her tears. “It’ll get better someday, that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because we all do, after a while we all get better.”

“I wish we knew how long a while was. Everything would be easier.” 

“I know, doll, but let’s take it all one day at a time. Just remember you’re not alone. You have me – and the rest of the team.” He cleared his throat trying to disguise the importance she held in his life. Bucky would have never said anything, but he had fallen for the girl. He held her already in high regard for the care she had given to his best friend, but his feelings had started to shift when she started caring for him while they were on the run.

“Thank you, Buck. I don’t know where I would be without you.” She laid a kiss on his chest and drifted to sleep with Bucky’s arm rubbing circles on her back.

One more week had gone by and (Y/N) had grown used to having Bucky sleep with her at night. He had helped her pack away all the things Steve had left in the room – specifically the cologne that still hunted her, – he started waking her up earlier and making sure she got at least two full meals a days before she went to bed, and he made sure that she didn’t spend her nights crying for a man he called his best friend.

All of Bucky’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The remaining Avengers had noticed how the ex-assassin cared for the broken girl, going further than the rest of them did. And his feelings for the girl did not fly by the mind-reading witch that currently stared at him preparing lunch for (Y/N).

“When will you tell her how you feel?” The redhead spoke, casually sipping on a cup of coffee.

“What do you mean, Wanda?” 

“What she means is that you’ve been in love with that girl for far too long and it’s time you confess already,” Sam jeered. “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

“Except for the fact that she’s still reeling from my best friend breaking her heart by going back in time and leaving her to be with someone else. I’m sure she’ll be jumping with joy if I confess right now,” he mocked. “Anyways, how did you know?” 

“You’re not very secretive about it,’’ Sam laughed. “You’re always in a sour mood but magically when you’re with her you become someone else. The White Wolf become (Y/N)’s puppy real quick!’’

“I am not that obvious with it.”

“Okay, lil’ pup.”

“Whatever. Anyways, it’s not the right time for that.”

“When will it be the right time then, Bucky?” Wanda inquired.

“I don’t know. But it’s not right now.”  He plated what he was cooking and headed to (Y/N)’s room. The last thing she needed at the moment was a new relationship, even if that’s all Bucky wanted. 

[wwilloww]

⛸ Hi, hello. Welcome to my shower thoughts. What if. It starts out in this dystopian society where there are arranged marriages and everything is regulated by like one person or a council or something. Originally, the OC or Y/N is engaged to [x bts member] and, they’re just about to get married the day that the dystopia crumbles! Now, OC / Y/N is actually in love with [x bts member]- but, [x bts member] isn’t (or doesn’t think they are- you decide) in love with OC or Y/N. ANGST. BUT WAIT! ⛸

anonymous said: 

⛸ THERS MORE. So~ [x bts member] after like three months of reader/OC being heartbroken, lead on, and helpless, starts pursuing someone else! Someone new that [x bts member] just met. And so, they start falling in love. Helplessly, hopelessly in love. Love interest of [x bts member] leads them on but ultimately some tragedy happens where they end up breaking [x bts member’s] heart and OC/reader is left to console them and try to comfort them through all that ANGSTTT ⛸

⛸ AND THENNNNN. (Sorry this is taking so many parts- this has just evolved so much in my head 😂) AND THEN! It’s all angsty and sad because OC/reader ends up admitting that they had real feelings for [x bts member] they had to go through the same things alone and had to put on a happy face because they just wanted to be happy [x bts member] is happy 🥺 But yeah!! This has just been expanding in my head and I know I’m never gonna end up writing it so I figured I would just tell you about it😂⛸

⛸but obviouslyyyyy I do not expect you to write this, and you are in no way obligated by it but! If you are inspired by it in any way, you could totally use it and I would totally read it 😂⛸ But yeah, I guess I just figured I’d play 😂 Have a great day/night/whatever time it is where you are!!! Adios!! ☺️💜⛸

NOONNIIEEEEEEE 

hello?!!!!! your brain is a literal GENIUS!!! This is legitimately a fully structured fic that you just dropped into my inbox. Why wouldn’t you write it??? You have such a beautifully strong grasp of this idea and I know you would do an incredible, incredible job of it too. If you do end up writing it, tag me! Please!! 

SO. Back in high school I had a seriously strong dystopian phase. Your idea reminded me a little bit of a story I tried to write (what is it about dystopian stories and love triangles? huh?) I tried to find it to post a snippet of young Willow’s writing, but I couldn’t find it anywhere, so I tried to write something for you. We’re going to say this is a JK fic because he’s the first to come to mind. 

Well. I started writing and it didn’t stop. So now this is officially a drabble. Here we go 😂

UNARRANGED

PAIRING jungkook x reader

GENRE dystopian!au. angst.

WC 734

WARNINGS heartbreak. pining.

AN someone pls tell me to stop writing

Should the city still be burning? Months after your home burnt down there were still fires. They would burst up on a particularly cold night. From the vantage point of the roof, you could see them, burning bright and red until the early hours of the morning, black smoke leeching up into the pristine silver glimmer of the stars. By morning they would usually burn their course, leaving nothing but the wisps of heat lingering in the air. 

Tonight, that’s where you find him. Back hunched, chin resting on his knee. A mile out, a fire rages the size of a city block and his eyes are locked on it. You’re not sure if he’s ignoring you or if he can’t hear you - but nonetheless you walk carefully over the tiles towards where Jungkook sits. 

You sit without word. Breathe deep. Let the silence drape over you until it seems - for him at least - unbearable.

“Is it still supposed to hurt?” he finally says after a couple of minutes. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, jaw clenching. “It always hurts for a while. I guess...” You pause, chewing over your words. “When we love someone we let them lodge inside our hearts. When they walk away from us, I think they take something with them.” 

“Yeah, thats...that’s how it feels.” He sniffs, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or if he’s crying. When you peek over at him, his face is dry. Empty. He glances at you and a stiff smile brushes across his lips. “I didn’t think it would be physically painful too. It’s just supposed to be emotions and shit, right? Not like - not like an ache. Like pain. It’s physically painful.” 

“Why shouldn’t it be painful?” You say softly. “Wouldn’t it be worse to have loved and not feel the loss at all?”

He’s silent at that. 

“It sounds like you know what it feels like.” 

“Yeah.” You say softly, chewing on your lip. “I guess I do.” 

He looks at you, studying your face. 

“I never noticed - I didn’t realize you had someone -” 

“There’s a lot you don’t notice, Jungkook.” You can’t help the ice that slips into your voice. He blinks back at you. Reaches for your hand. You don’t want to, but still at his touch, at the sensation of his thumb running over the back of your hand, you melt. It’s so warm. Even after a year, your body still wants to lean into him. “I suppose I didn’t really... have them. Not really.” 

“I’m sorry.” He brings your hand up to his chest where he wraps both arms around it, forcing you to scoot closer. “I suppose that’s better though.” He laughs. “Selfishly, it’s better. That we both know this. That we both can go through it together.”

He’s so dumb, you can’t help but think. Your gaze traces over his features. Even after everything that you both had been through - the burning of the city, broken hearts, destroyed families, decimated lives - his features still sang with the kind of youth that had nothing to do with age.

“The pain - it feels sharp in my chest. In my throat.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”

“And I still dream about her sometimes, like she’s still here right beside me. Like she never left.”

“Yeah.” And then softer. “Me too.”

“And there’s a part of me that feels like everything will be fixed if she just came back, if she just gave it another shot. If she just tried.” Your heart clenches and he shakes his head. “But then... then I know that’s not fair. It’s not true. You can’t just ask someone to love you. That’s not how it works.”

“Exactly.” It’s almost a whisper. 

“You know.” It’s said softly. As if he’s also saying thank you.

“I know.”

“Who was it?” he asks. 

You look at him. Eyes wide, heart cracked open just for you. Later on, you won’t be sure if it was something in the air - the smoke, the crisp burn of winter frost - or if it was an impulse, or if it was something about everything you had endured in the past year that made you say it. The building of courage, of callus, of that long, stretching emptiness that never quite seemed to leave the front of your mind. 

“You, Jungkook.” You say, pulling your hand from his. “It was you.” 

[ad1thi]

@starklysteve  rhae asked for some winteriron recs (read: i volunteered to spam rhae w buckytony fics because i adore them), so in no particular order, and based on my memory alone, here are some of my favourite buckytony fics!!

(please remember to leave kudos and comments!!)

American Memorial: @/spqr

“Pick up the shield,” Tony said. Understandably, Bucky told him to go fuck himself

Losing You (Is My Supervillain Origin Story):  @amethystinawrites

There are a lot of things that Bucky regrets. The list is, quite frankly, longer than he can handle on most days and, right at the very top, is lying to Tony about who killed his parents. Bucky has known even from before they started dating, but he simply can't bring himself to say anything — to ruin one of the few good things he has in his life. It's selfish and wrong, but Bucky just doesn't know how to tell Tony that he is the one responsible for Howard and Maria Stark's deaths.

So when he starts receiving anonymous emails, threatening to expose the truth to Tony and the rest of the world, Bucky is desperate enough to agree to the blackmailer's terms, even if it means breaking up with Tony. Bucky cannot, under any circumstances, let Tony find out about his parents from anyone but Bucky himself.

Too late Bucky realizes that there is much more to the blackmailer's scheme than just having Bucky break Tony's heart. Too late Bucky realizes that despite his best intentions, he will still end up losing everything — in a much more permanent way than he could ever have imagined.

Hindsight: @amethystinawrites

Ever since he was a little boy, Bucky has dreamed of becoming an astronaut together with Steve, and he can hardly believe their luck when both of them are picked for the Ares 3 crew — the third expedition sent to explore Mars. It is, quite literally, a dream come true.

Things get complicated when Bucky finds himself inconveniently attracted to their mechanical engineer, however. Tony Stark is funny, competent, and absolutely captivating, but considering NASA's strict non-fraternization policy, Bucky knows it's better to keep his interest to himself — at least until they return to Earth. He can wait.

Not once does Bucky consider the possibility that all of them might not make it back alive, or just how much he'll come to regret not acting when he had the chance.

Arsenal: @tangodancer91 (part of a series) (also my all time favourite buckytony series ever)

Two years after the Civil War that tore apart everything she’d bled to build, Toni Stark sacrificed herself for her newly-reinstated teammates and ended up stranded in the past. Freed of her name, her fortune, and her hostile ex-teammates, she built herself a life as an agent for the OSS, the American secret service, and, having nothing to lose, accepted a mission to infiltrate the newest player in the war: an organization that call themselves HYDRA.

Then, she met a young draftee with a dreadfully familiar face, and they clicked like she had never clicked with anyone before. By the time she realized she’d fallen for the man who’d cost her everything, it was too late, but she’d always been an all or nothing type of girl, and if she was damning herself, well then…might as well go all the way.

Yield: @aurumacadicus (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

All Bucky has ever wanted was to win the contest for Tony's hand in marriage. It's a bit harder now that he's down to one arm, but luckily his friends are willing to help make up the difference.

Barnes Family Motors Inc: @phlintandsteel-ao3 (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

In a world where alphas legally own omegas, Bucky is just a small time mechanic from Brooklyn who gets lucky in a poker game. Tony is an omega whose life is fraught with abuse, until his luck suddenly takes a turn for the better.

In the grand scheme of things they may only be able to make little differences in the lives of those around them, but that doesn't mean it's not worth making them. After all, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

The Long Con (don’t kid yourself): @phlintandsteel-ao3

When Tony finds out that Howard is thinking about changing the terms of Tony’s trust fund, he embarks on a not-so-elaborate scheme to prove that he’s totally settling down and not in continued need of Howard’s “guidance” until 25 instead of 21. Step 1: Get a fiance Step 2: ??? Step 3: Profit (Finally be free of Howard)

Unfortunately, Tony Stark is the worst con-artist ever, and may only be kidding himself..

Hot Mess:  @/niki

“Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”

Imperceptions and Assumptions: @/NarutoRox

Afterward, Bucky would look back on their first meeting with fondness and a healthy dose of amusement. At the time, though, he’d mostly been confused - and more than a little embarrassed.

Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to the media in his early days, and hadn’t bothered really reading up on the team or anything, either, so when Steve had said ‘Tony Stark’, Bucky had just assumed.

The same way he’d looked at the three people who’d walked through the door - an imposing redhead in heels, a bored-looking brunette who dimpled when she saw him and Steve, and a sturdy-looking man wearing a slight glower - locked eyes on the man, and assumed him to be the infamous Tony Stark Steve wouldn’t shut up about.

It was Bucky’s first lesson when it came to Natasha Antonia ‘Toni’ Stark - never assume.

~

In which Tony Stark is actually Natasha Antonia 'Toni' Stark (which everyone knows) as well as Iron Man (which everyone does not know), assumptions are made, and there are misunderstandings.

From this prompt: How about a cross between my two favorite tropes? Nobody knows who iron man is other than Natasha/Antonia Stark's bodyguard but Bucky is in love with one or both of them

i know, you know (that i’m not telling the truth) : @imposter-human

psychic tony stark is called to work a routine case with detective bucky barnes; only, he seems to be more connected to the case than anyone thought

or, a psych au!!

the new romeo and juliet: @imposter-human

Bucky and Tony weren’t dating, because a firefighter and a detective couldn’t date (never mind that Tony hadn’t slept with anyone else since their thing had started, and he and Bucky hung out with an alarming frequency, and the whole precinct thought that they were an item). It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how Bucky had a drawer of Tony's things and vice versa, they just couldn't.

It was a classic Romeo and Juliet situation, if Romeo and Juliet actively disliked each other on top of everything.

if found, please return to: @capnshellhead

Tony Stark shows up at Bucky's bar after a really tough break up and Bucky decides to look after him

gods of carnage:  @deathsweetqueen (part of a series)

On May 29, 1970, the Winter Soldier feels a burning sensation and looks down at his wrist to find a single name written in enduring ink: Antonia Margaret Stark.

HYDRA, fearing the defiance of their greatest asset due to a bond that cannot and will not be denied its due, immediately dispatches the Soldier, to locate, collect and deliver this newborn girl to HYDRA, which will become her new home, her new family and her entire world - to be raised as another one of HYDRA’s great warriors: their Engineer.

But the Engineer is a faulty asset. She thinks things that may get her killed one day. She wants things that she shouldn’t, that are not hers to want. She has a mind and body that belong more to herself than any handler, than any commander she may have.

And if she cuts her strings, when she cuts her strings, well, when you put sheep next to wolves, you ask for a bloodbath.

where i walk, you follow (where i burn, you burn):  @deathsweetqueen

At his father's command, Anthony Stark trades in his northern keep for a southern crown, wedded and bedded by Alexander of House Pierce, First of His Name.

Tony does his duty, becomes a wolf in name only, toothless and clawless, and a dark, gleaming ornament for the King, even if he would make himself a widower a hundred times over.

Honour demanded it of him, and so he did.

But it is Ser James Barnes, named the Kingslayer for his sins during the Rebellion, that draws his eye, gives him comfort in this pit of liars and monsters

So, what is honour compared to a good man's love? They are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.

[Fic by deathsweetqueen, Art by MassiveSpaceWren]

Cat Parenting (And Other Meet Cutes):  @singingwithoutwords (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Of all the ways Bucky could have finally gotten a chance to speak to his crush, why did it have to be his cat getting Tony's cat pregnant?

Codename Heartbreaker:  @rinnwrites (part of a series)

Today was a day that, contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark had most certainly not been looking forward to. It was election day, or election night, rather, and the polls were closed, the results were in; Howard Stark was the next President of the United States of America.

or

Tony Stark Bingo - R3: Election Day

Fate Strings Not Required: @akira-of-the-twilight

“Hey doll,” a new voice said from Tony’s side.

Tony glanced at the person approaching.

Someone was working the rugged, bad boy look. The new guy rocked a leather jacket and blue jeans.

His blue eyes lit up with joy as he approached Tony. “Something wrong here?” The new guy gave the first guy--the one insisting he was Tony's soul mate--a once over then turned his full attention on Tony. “You’re looking a little stressed, anything I can do?”

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Siren’s Treasure: @akira-of-the-twilight

Prompt: I really love the idea of playboy!Bucky flirt of the seven seas first-mate to Captain Rogers, falling completely overboard in love with our Blacksmith-Inventor Inexperienced!Tony who goes from confident captive to shy woe-begone man in the presence of Bucky's fierce affections. Virgin!Tony wonders what a siren like Bucky could possibly want with him. Bucky wants to know what the fuck Logan thinks he's doing flirting with the man who stole his heart like sunken treasures. Happy ending please?

“Sirens killed your crew?” Steve repeated.

The dark haired man nodded. Just an hour ago the Avenger crew had found the man clinging to driftwood in the middle of the ocean. Now he clutched the flask of rum Bucky had given him like it was all that kept him buoyant during these tumultuous times.

The man—Tony—had already downed more than half the flask and was still sober. “Not exactly my crew, but close enough. Yeah.” Tony uncapped the flask and threw back a mouthful.

Steve frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Tony shrugged. “I wasn’t captain of the ship.”

“So what were you?” Steve pressed.

Road hazards: @riotwritesthings

Steve and Bucky's BFF road trip is not going well. For starters, Steve couldn't even make it, and for some bizarre reason asked Tony to take his place. The fact that it’s only a couple days before someone is trying to kill them isn’t nearly as stressful as the fact that Bucky and Tony have never really had an actual conversation.

It’s hard to avoid someone when stuck in a car with them though, and if they manage to stay alive they just might learn a thing or two.

Once Upon a Wintertime: @iam93percentstardust (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Look, Bucky knows that he’s fulfilling every cliché in the book right now. He knows that, as a bodyguard, he’s not supposed to fall in love with his client. But Tony’s good and sweet and so, so lonely and how could Bucky not? He thinks he’s got a shot after Tony breaks up with his boyfriend but on a trip across the country, he finds out that Tony needs a bondmate or the board will steal SI—and Ty’s already said yes.

little bird: @thxngam

Bucky laughs, and it’s loud and unbidden, a way he hadn’t laughed for years before, tugging his giggling omega into his lap. Tony quiets and nestles into Bucky’s chest like he was made to belong there, and Bucky has noticed several times that Tony is much smaller than he is, but he never quite noticed how Tony always seemed to curl into him as a reason for his size.

Tony nestles like a little bird.

Teenage Dream:  @anthonyed

Tony Stark develops a crush on the school's bad boy who is too cool to hang out with anyone. At least, it's what Tony thinks. He never considered that James Barnes is probably as lonely as he is.

(in the process of editing)

The Best Laid Plans (of Mice and Men):  @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

A Kitten and a Soldier: @/ThatDamnKennedyKid

Bucky hadn't heard from Rumlow in years - since the whole Winter Soldier fiasco in Siberia. They've been discharged for nearly six years, but when he gets a message that only says "I need your help" , he grabs his jacket and keys.

The Prince’s Bride: @hddnone

After Tony loses the love of his life to pirates on the high sea, not much matters to him. He agrees to wed Prince Justin Hammer to gain access to vibranium and shut himself away in his workshop until the end of time, but a group of ruffians kidnap Tony to take him to Hydra.

Tony's rescue takes on an unlikely form - the Dread Pirate Rogers, who killed the love of his life five years ago.

A Princess Bride AU

A Kind of Destiny: @weethreequarter

A chance meeting at a wedding brings together an American war veteran and the Prince of Wales. Little do they know, the wheels have been set in motion for a relationship which will change not only their lives, but the monarchy itself. Bucky and Tony strike up a friendship at Steve and Peggy’s wedding, a friendship that soon develops into more. But it’s not so simple: Tony is the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne of Great Britain and the United Kingdom. Any relationship is played out in the press and public eye, and then there's that pesky issue of succession to consider too. But Bucky is no coward, and when he finds something he wants, he’s prepared to fight for it. And fight he will, at Tony's side, for their very own fairy tale ending.

[princess-of-riviaa]

Meet Me, Love Me chapter 1: The Lieutenant

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Erin)

Series Summary: After meeting a woman on the dating site Meet Me, Love Me, Walter finds himself falling into a messy web of lies, deceit, and heartbreak.

Chapter Summary: Walter finally meets Erin in person.

Warning(s): phone sex/sexting, masturbation

Word count: 2,354

Walter’s phone dings in his pocket. He ignores it and listens to the psychologist give her analysis on the current criminal their unit is investigating. She drones on about how it’s very likely the criminal is suffering from an extreme condition of schizophrenia and that he will most likely use the insanity plea in court. Walter sighs. At least the guy is getting locked up. That’s what matters, right?

Only once the debriefing is over and Walter’s back in his office does he pull his phone out. A small smile tugs at his mouth as he sees the notification on the screen and unlocks his phone.

MEET ME, LOVE ME DIRECT MESSAGE PORTAL

daddys_pr1ncess: did you enjoy the pic of my ass? [16:01]

daddys_pr1ncess: dumb question, i know you did. Bet it made you all nice and hard in the middle of your meeting, huh? [16:02]

Heat stirs in Walter’s stomach as blood rushes to his cock.

the.lieutenant: you know i don’t like being distracted at work, baby girl. Are you looking for a punishment? [16:06]

Walter waits with anticipation as the three little dots dance in the corner as she types out her message.

daddys_pr1ncess: maybeee [16:07]

daddys_pr1ncess: i’m just so excited to finally meet you in person that it’s bringing out the brat in me [16:07]

daddys_pr1ncess: i can’t wait to feel you spank me for real. I bet those big hands of yours can leave some serious marks;) [16:07]

the.lieutenant: hold on baby girl, i need to drive home before you can touch yourself. You better wait to show me. [16:08]

Walter does his best to keep his thoughts on his grandmother as he walks out of the office for the day. Somehow it works and he doesn’t get a hard on until he’s back in his truck and his mind has returned to his baby girl.

Her name is Erin. She’s twenty-seven and lives in the city, just twenty miles north of Walter. They’ve been talking for a few weeks now but it feels like years. He’s not usually the kind of guy to go on a dating website and actually find someone on there he likes, but she’d reached out to him and refused to let him get away so easily. And ever since he gave her a chance (he’d like to say he held out for a good week, but actually he gave in to her around day 2) he’s realized why people actually use these sites. Erin is a dream come true. Everything Walter’s ever wanted to find in a woman, he found in her. She seems too good to be true.

Walter parks his truck in his driveway and strides to the bedroom before replying to her.

the.lieutenant: i’m home baby. you better be naked and on your bed for me. [16:43]

The three dots appear in the bottom corner again and a second later a picture goes through. It’s of a beautiful female body. Everything is exposed to the camera--her soft thighs, her wet pussy, her perfect breasts--except for her face.

That’s the one thing about Erin that Walter doesn’t know: what her face looks like. Part of him has been okay with it. It keeps the mystery alive and somehow makes everything more sensual when she sends him videos of her saying all the ways she wants Walter to defile her body. But on the other hand, he’s a cop, a detective, and he likes knowing who people really are. He’s the one that convinced her to meet him in person. After he promised to meet in a public place and that he wasn’t planning on kidnapping her, she agreed. Friday can’t come soon enough now. He lies awake at night trying to imagine what she looks like, using the rest of her body as clues for her facial features. But he still comes up blank. It’s starting to seriously drive him crazy.

Heat goes straight to his cock as he takes in the picture. Her legs are spread and she has her hand wrapped around one of her breasts, already starting to touch herself. Walter wants nothing more than to bury his face between them and suck on her nipples until she’s screaming his name. She’s lying on her bed, the ivory sheets contrasting against her skin. God, the things he wants to do to her in that bed...

daddys_pr1ncess: of course daddy, i’m always prepared for you [16:45]

the.lieutenant: touching yourself already? you’re such a naughty little slut [16:46]

daddys_pr1ncess: i can’t help it, you’re making me so wet. I want it to be your hands on me instead. [16:48]

Yeah, he wants that too.

Walter lies down on his bed and rubs a hand over his jeans, teasing his erection. His breathing quickly becomes shallow as he thinks about Erin’s small hand wrapping around his length.

the.lieutenant: i don’t care how wound up you’re getting. you don’t get to touch yourself without daddy’s permission. [16:50]

daddys_pr1ncess: i’m sorry daddy [16:51]

daddys_pr1ncess: can i have a pic of you? I want to see how hard i’m making you [16:51]

daddys_pr1ncess: i promise i’ll be good [16:51]

Fine, he’ll play along with what she wants, but only because he knows how wet she gets at the sight of him. He unzips his pants and pulls his cock out before taking a quick picture and sending it to her. He waits for her reply. He waits for two minutes. Then three. Then six. Where the hell did she go? Just as he’s about to text her asking exactly that, a video pops up in the chat. He opens it.

“I know you said not to touch myself,” her high-pitched voice says in the video, “but I also know you like teasing me, so I thought of a compromise.” She positions the camera to show the lower half of her body as she drags her nails up the inside of her thighs. Goosebumps rise on the soft skin between her legs and Walter watches with interest as the lips of her pussy throb at the feather-light sensations on her skin.

He wraps a hand around his shaft and starts to jerk himself slowly, teasing himself like she is.

The camera follows Erin’s hand as she drags it up her body, past her cute little belly button and the hills of her breasts, and rests on her throat. She wraps her hand around her neck and squeezes slightly. A second later she moans.

A bit of pre-cum leaks from Walter’s tip at the sound. Her voice is fucking sinful. He’d sell his soul to the devil if it meant hearing that little moan in his ear as he fucks her.

“Daddy I want you to choke me like that,” she whimpers in the video. “Want you to keep your hand around my throat as you fuck me… fuck, thinking about you inside of me is making me so wet. Can I touch myself now, Daddy?”

And that’s where the video ends. Fucking tease.

Walter is quick to text her back.

the.lieutenant: you better touch yourself. video it. I want to see you finger yourself and rub your clit. And be loud for me, baby girl. I want to hear you moaning like the good slut you are for me. [17:10]

She busies herself with the task he’s given her. Walter has time to change out of his day-old work clothes before she replies with a new video. He returns to the bed, now completely naked, and presses play.

Erin points the camera between her legs as she runs two fingers between her folds. The light makes her wetness glisten and there’s a wet squelching sound as she coats her fingers in her juices.

Walter spits on his hand and begins to jerk himself off, imagining running his cock between those wet lips of her pussy.

“Shit I’m so wet for you Daddy,” she whines out as she circles her clit with her forefinger. “Just thinking of this being your hand instead of mine is making me so aroused.”

Walter’s cock spasms in his hand, growing harder with every beautiful moan she makes for him. He speeds up his hand as Erin inserts one finger inside of her pussy, then another. She begins to finger herself at a pace that can only be described as desperate. Walter matches her pace and it’s only half a minute later when he feels that familiar coil in his stomach. Shit, she makes it impossible to last long.

“Fuck, Daddy, I want you to finger me like this,” Erin cries out, her voice becoming shakier as she nears her own orgasm. “I want your thick fingers inside of my pussy, stretching me open, prepping me for your cock. Shit, I’m close. I need to cum, Daddy. Are you gonna cum with me?”

Her moans grow louder as she fingers herself faster. She places the camera somewhere and frees up her other hand to start rubbing at her clit. Walter watches through half-closed, lust-filled eyes as her hips buck up and her legs shake. His body is having the same reaction. He closes his eyes and just listens to the sounds of her moans, picturing her pussy wrapped around his cock instead of his own hand, and a breathless second later he’s coming, shooting his load all over his stomach. Erin cums with a cry and a scream of, “Daddy!” and fuck if that’s not the most beautiful sound Walter’s ever heard. The video ends a second later and Walter lies there, breathless, even as his phone buzzes with a new notification. Once he can think clearly, he checks it.

daddys_pr1ncess: did you like that? [17:43]

the.lieutenant: fuck yes baby girl. I made such a mess because of you. [17:45]

daddys_pr1ncess: if i were there i’d gladly lick it all up [17:46]

the.lieutenant: careful, baby. You’re gonna make Daddy hard all over again. Don’t start something you can’t finish. [17:46]

daddys_pr1ncess: but daddy you know i love making you cum over and over [17:47]

And so, after she sends him another video five minutes later and he adds to the mess on his stomach, he says goodnight to her. She goes to sleep early and sleeps a good nine hours every night, while he’s lucky if he can get more than a few hours every other night. Exhaustion makes his muscles ache as he stands under the hot showerhead, letting the droplets of water slide down his body and disappear down the drain. He cleans himself off and towels off before getting ready for bed. His phone lies on the table beside him, silent. He’s tempted to text Erin, or maybe just look through some of her pictures, but he decides against it, opting instead to lie awake for several hours before he finally drifts off.

…

Snooze is the restaurant he’s agreed to meet her at. They both have the day off, so they decide to take advantage of the empty restaurant a few hours after the lunch rush. Walter has a black coffee while he waits for her. He probably shouldn’t be drinking the caffeine--he’s already wound up enough on his own--but he likes the bitter taste of it and needs to hold something in his hands while he waits.

The front door chimes as a customer walks in. He looks over to see the police department’s new intern walk through the door. She walks up to the hostess and says something Walter can’t hear. He frowns as he watches her, wondering what she’s doing here on a Friday afternoon. She’s young--he’s not sure of her age but she can’t be older than twenty-two, maybe twenty-three--and she’s the type of young adult to be spending her Fridays out drinking and socializing. The hostess points to the table Walter’s sitting at. His frown deepens. The intern finally spots Walter and walks over to him, looking just as confused.

“Hi, Lieutenant Marshall,” she says once she’s in earshot. “I’m supposed to meet someone here. Can I sit next to you while I wait?”

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee.

The girl--what’s her name again?--slides into the booth. They sit in silence for a few minutes before she finally asks, “So… what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“It’s my day off,” is all he says. He’s not a big fan of people knowing a lot about him.

“I gathered that,” the intern laughs nervously. Her voice sounds familiar, but Walter waves it off as just hearing her voice around the office, nothing more. She checks her phone and sighs when she sees she has no notifications. “Sorry, I don’t know why my date is taking too long.” Her eyes widen as she realizes something. “Actually, he’s a lieutenant like you. I wonder if you know him?”

Walter goes through the list of other police lieutenants in the city that he knows of. None of them would be going out with a girl this young, though.

“His name is Walter,” she says. “I can’t remember his last name. Actually I don’t know if he ever told me it…” She drones on but Walter stops hearing her.

The only people in this entire restaurant--besides the staff--are them. He recognizes her voice…

“Shit,” Walter mutters.

The girl looks at him in surprise. “Uh… I’m sorry?”

“Erin,” he breathes out, refusing to believe it.

She perks up. “Yes?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! How the hell did he get himself into this kind of mess? He runs a hand down his face, trying not to freak out.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant…?” Erin asks. Her eyes go wide as she comes to the same conclusion. “You’re… you’re the lieutenant?”

Walter swallows. He’s such a fucking idiot. “And you’re daddy’s princess.” He cringes as he says it out loud.

“Oh fuck,” Erin sighs.

He couldn’t have said it better himself.

***

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[alolowrites]

A Late Night Promise

Summary: Much to your dismay, you share an elevator ride with Shouto after staying late at the office one night.   

Author’s Note: Saw a prompt with just the word “elevator” and my mind came up with this. It’s been a while since I wrote a long-ish fic for Shouto. One last thing, everyone is of age. 

Enjoy!  

“So what do you say?”

“Oh…I don’t know…”

“C’mon.” Saito leans against the doorframe. “I promise we’ll have a great time on Saturday night. I know this fantastic hibachi restaurant in the city. The chef is also a close friend of mine. What do you say?”

“That does sound like fun.” What’s not to love about watching an experienced chef perform their tricks on the grill? The excited yells, the sleek spatulas slicing on the metal ice, the delicious food sizzling to perfection. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of it. And yet, “Can I let you know tomorrow? I just gotta make sure I’m free.”

“No problem,” he smiles at you. “Text me when you’re ready.”

Waving goodbye, you walk away. Few employees are working late tonight at Endeavor’s agency, especially if they are network engineers such as yourself. You don’t mind staying behind to help. It means spending more time in the server rooms. Each one is like a fun maze where you purposefully try to get lost in. They came in handy after enduring a painful heartbreak.

The hallway runs for miles. Lights flicker above you and the low buzz tickles your ears. You can’t shake the growing feeling of someone watching you. Pausing mid-step, you peek over your shoulders with weary eyes. A janitor pushes his cart around the corner. His whistles echo down the hall until they fade away.

You relax.

It’s a false alarm. Shaking your head, you stride towards the elevator. Cool air bursts from the vents which is a blessing. Outside is a nightmare with all the humidity. From the corner of your eye, you see a storm approaching. The wind howls in between the trembling leaves. Dark clouds gradually engulf the entire block like the Blob Monster. And soft thunder rumbles in the distance.

Perhaps it will rain tonight. Lord knows you desperately need it to rain. After suffering under humidity’s tyrant rule, you are ready to be saved.

The button turns yellow. You wait for the elevator by scrolling through your phone. Instagram is a bore. Snapchat’s hourglass reminds you to keep your fiery streak alive. And, unsurprisingly, Chargebolt is trending on Twitter. Just as your thumb hangs above the screen, the strange feeling returns.

You glance to your left and nearly drop the phone. Shouto is marching down the hallway. Panic hits as you pound the button multiple times. Seconds are ticking by. Precious time is fleeing. Where is the damn elevator?!

Ding!

You immediately dive inside. Lurching forward, you attack the button until the doors start closing. A hand slices midway and everything stops. Shouto saunters inside; the elevator groans under the newly added weight. You scuff back to the center. He dusts off the invisible lint on his black dress shirt. He gives you a once over before standing besides you.

The elevator moves.

No music plays from the speakers. The box is so quiet, but your mind is on overdrive. It’s as if someone accidentally disconnected a cable and now the network system is malfunctioning. Only you couldn’t fix this mess. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea answering those emails; they kept you behind an extra ten minutes. Too late to change that now.  

You glimpse at the black screen above you. The dwindling numbers keep you sane even if you’re hanging on by a thread. Once the ride reaches the lobby, you will block it from your memory. Until then, all you need to do is ignore him. It should be easy enough.

“You’re leaving late again.”

Shoulders back.

“It’s not good for your health.”

Eyes front.

“Will you please say something to me?”

Lips shut.

Shouto takes the hint and backs off. He rethinks his strategy in silence while your eyes are fixated on the elevator’s doors. His body is partially blurred. Although you couldn’t see his face, you know he is frustrated; the clenched fist gives it away. Your phone vibrates in your grasp. A soft smile tugs on your lips as you read the sweet message.

Shouto scoffs. You frown.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shoves one hand in his pocket. You suspiciously eye him before turning your attention to the phone again.

The blue light flickers with each floor change. A finger taps against the side of his leg. Time is running out for him. He must act quick. Who knows when he will be this close to you, and alone, ever again. Shouto thinks back to your answer and nearly cries; he craves to hear the sound of your voice—it’s sweet and addictive.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Go out with him?”

“How did you—did you spy on me?!”

Shouto bites back a grin. That’s six more words than the last response.

“I wanted to know if you were okay.” He shrugs as if he did nothing wrong. A migraine knocks on your forehead. “Your team has been working diligently on installing the new security firewalls. After all, my father wants to make sure everything is secured.”

“Forget about your father’s insane demands!” You thrust a finger his way. “How long have you been spying on me, huh? Tell me right now!”

His mouth is glued shut.

“Shouto!”

“Since you started talking to Saito!” Embers flicker off his hair. He towers over you, but you do not flinch away. One hand rushes through his locks. “He kept getting close to you. I wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

“Like you didn’t hurt me?!” You dryly laugh. Your icy glare almost gives him frostbite. “You’re the one who broke up with me!”

“I did it to protect you!” Oh here we go again, that same old excuse. You pace around the elevator to avoid his nonsense. Shouto does not back down. “There are villains who want to kill me! If they ever found out about you—”

“You don’t think I know that?!” A foot harshly stomps on the floor and rattles the box. “For crying out loud, Shouto, I work for your dad! This whole freaking office is a prime target!”

The numbers continue climbing down.

“I knew the risks that came with dating you. I’m not stupid, but you—” a finger jabs his shirt “—made the choice to leave me. You decided to end things without even considering how it would have hurt me.”

His eyes flicker between your finger and fiery daggers.

“It was hard getting over you.” A cold, haughty chuckle rings into the air. “But now that I’m ready to start dating again, you decide to spy on me? You have some nerve!”

Another stab to his chest.

“It’s over, Shouto.” You boldly stand your ground. “I suggest you move on and forget about us.”

A thin line appears on his mouth.

Shouto marches towards the front and smashes the emergency button. The elevator abruptly stops. For a few seconds, it shakes like an aftershock from a larger earthquake. You yelp and stumble, but catch yourself. Shouto’s hand slips down. The unbearable humidity returns, only it feels worse, like standing in the middle of the Amazon rainforest with no escape.

A pair of eyes focuses on you. He’s like a jaguar who briskly stalks closer to his prey. Out of instinct, your legs stagger away from him until you hit a wall. Two large hands slam against the metal plate. The shockwaves roll down your back as his arms cage you in place.

When Shouto leans forward, you swallow a hard gulp. Apparently there are two storms happening tonight—one outside and the other thrashing inside his eyes. You’ve only seen this look a few times; it never fails to make you shudder with anticipation. Soon a small flame ignites deep in your soul.

It grows at an alarming rate. A cool sensation trails across your jawline and down your neck. You restrain yourself from biting your bottom lip. The air swirling around becomes unstable. Your breathing quickens its pace. Your throat dries instantly. Your heart beats uncontrollably. Shouto amusingly peeks at the bag and the pitiful distance it puts in between you two.

“You said to move on and forget, but there’s one small problem…” His gravelly voice makes your legs quiver. He tilts his head so your noses brush. You could almost taste the peppermint breath flowing out from his parted mouth. It fails to cool down your flushed face. After the brief pause, he rasps, “I can’t and I’ll show you why.”

Lightning finally strikes.

Without warning, strong lips crash against yours. They are desperate for you. Starving even. His actions reawakens a long forgotten feeling in your core. The small flame transforms into a powerful wildfire ravaging everything in its path. You wither under the heat. At this point, nothing holds you back and fully give in.

You kiss him. Hard.  

A cool touch makes you gasp. Shouto wastes no time devouring the inside of your mouth with his tongue. The movements are precise, yet reckless. A wave of pleasure spreads throughout your body as your eyes roll back. The bag drops to the floor and Shouto effortlessly kicks it behind. With the only obstacle gone, he collapses his entire weight on you.  

You yank away to catch your breath.

Large hands seamlessly wander down your body. They are painfully slow for your liking. Shouto smirks when your fists fervently tug the collar of his shirt. He stops torturing you by swooping his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you up. Eager legs wrap around Shouto’s torso to hold yourself steady.

After weeks being apart, you miss his touch. You miss exploring his lean muscles bulging through the fabric. You miss inhaling his unique cologne scent. You miss digging your fingers through his sleek hair and disrupting its neat form. You simply miss everything about him.

Shouto hears you beg and fulfills your wish by deepening the kiss. It is more animalistic, more ferocious than the first one. Shouto shoves you further up against the wall for better control. Ironically, he is fighting to keep his composure together. Your tantalizing lips, however, pushes him over the edge. Lustful thoughts consume his mind as he praises every inch of your body. His mouth attacks your neck while you sing against his ear.

He almost loses it when you breathe out his name.

Meanwhile, his searing touches threaten to unravel the last string of your sanity. You guide his mouth back to yours as you are hungry for more. The storm charges through with no end in sight. Shouto’s satisfying groans blurs with the thunderous applause exploding among the thick clouds. Time is nonexistent. Your focus is on Shouto who pours his entire heart and soul into each blazing kiss. They are chaotic, but divine. You surrender yourself to the madness and transcend into a state of euphoria.

Oh how you wish you could stay there forever.

As the kisses weaken, you sink back down to reality. Through your heavy eyelids, you see Shouto pull away from your plump lips. Both chests heave like two runners who finished a grueling marathon. There are no crowds of people cheering for you two, just your heart. A soft sirocco wind passes by as Shouto tiredly presses his forehead on yours.

He croaks, “Now you understand why I can’t move on and forget about us?”

You do.

Shouto searches through your overwhelmed eyes for an answer. He gently caresses your face like the precious treasure it is. The hero savors your lips one last time and etches them into his memory. Fighting against his wish, he carefully puts you down. Your legs wobble and you don’t trust yourself to move. Shouto walks to the front and press some buttons.

The elevator roars to life again.  

You tuck in your blouse and pathetically fix your disheveled hair. A bag appears in your sight. Grabbing it, you choke out a quick “thanks” to Shouto. Both of you return to your original positions as if the passionate episode never happened.

No music plays from the speaker, but it is far from quiet. You hear your heart racing and the electric sparks buzzing in the tensed air.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispers. You stiffen at the sound. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was inconsiderate about everything…especially your feelings.”

You lower your gaze.

“I won’t stop you from going on that date.”

Your ears perk at his statement. Ignoring all warnings, you stare at him. Something indescribable swirls in his eyes. You realize they only appear when he’s preparing himself for battle.

“It is still your choice to make, but,” Shouto holds your hand in his warm grasp. The sheer determination flaring through his gaze takes your breath away. “Please know that I will not rest until I win your heart again.”

Ding!

The doors open, but you don’t exit. You’re still trying to process his words—his declaration of war for whomever decides to challenge him. Closing your gaped mouth, you glance between Shouto, your hand and the empty lobby. You numbly step off the elevator and lumber away.

Rain droplets cover the glass doors. Everything is quiet outside. The storm is gone and off to torment another city. You can finally breathe since the air is lighter. As you take a whiff of the earthy-musty scent, you feel the back of your hairs rise. Your eyes peer over your shoulders to see Shouto watching you.

He proudly stands tall.

A giddy sensation rushes down your spine. You grip the handle to keep yourself steady. Overwhelmed, you release a shaky sigh before exiting the building. In the lobby, Shouto curls his fist without looking away.

“I promise to win you back.” His lips curve into a small, but confident smile. “No matter how long it takes.”

Shouto will make sure of it.

As always, thank you for reading!  

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Love; Lost (pt.3)

John Wick x reader (A/n- Of course, I went ahead and made things more complicated. They’ll get a bit of a break by the end of this chapter though. Also, I know that it could have ended here, but welp)

Part1  Part2  

Warnings- Angst, pregnancy.

Two days. Two days since she’d told him she was pregnant. Two days since she’d renewed his heartbreak. Two days since she’d left again.

Once again, John was growing used to the hollowness and letting go of the hope that Y/n might come back. It hurt more that time though, knowing that he was not just losing the love of his life, but his future too. Unlike before, John had called, though, Y/n never picked up. He’d thought of seeking out where she was staying; he had already summed up that since she had sold her townhouse upon moving in with him years ago, she’d probably be at Lacy’s, a friend of Y/n’s who John had only met a handful of times. If she was there, John knew that Y/n was in good hands, Lacy was a good friend.

Standing in the backyard, John threw the ball for Dog each time he brought it back. They’d been at it for almost an hour but John’s arm hadn’t grown tired yet. When his phone vibrated in his back pocket, signaling that a text had come in, he hurriedly fished it out of his pocket, frowning when he saw that it was just a notification for an open contract. It had been like that even before Y/n come over a couple nights prior; every time his phone made the slightest noise, John would hastily grab it up, a spark of hope ignited in his chest, only for it to be snuffed out when he’d realized it wasn’t her. 

Stuffing the phone back into in pocket, John tossed the little green tennis ball again, though, he was even less enthused than before, the hurt and despair swallowing him up once again. When Dog returned not too long after, even he seemed to sense John’s foul mood, hanging his head and whining. Crouching down, John sniffled and brushed under his eyes, “It’s okay boy,” he rubbed the pits head, smiling sadly when his tongue ran comfortingly up John’s cheeks, “I’ll be okay,” he tried not to sob, “One day.”

Having decided that he’d had enough of lying to himself for one day, John stood again, leading his furry friend back inside through the back screen door, sparing one last glance at the grey clouds outside before shutting it again. 

At some point, grey clouds had turned into a light drizzle, and eventually, said drizzled had morphed into a full on torrential downpour. The rain seemed to mirror her despondent mood, though Y/n figured that she deserved to feel terrible considering the way she’d left things with John a couple nights prior. Since then, she had been ignoring his calls, and there were a lot of them. 

Y/n figured that she owed John an apology, and definitely a proper explanation for her behavior. Sure, she had felt like he hurt her, but she had probably hurt him worse by letting him know that he’d was fathering a child that she was reluctantly keeping from him. When she’d returned to Lacy’s that night, Y/n couldn’t get the earlier events out of her head, how hopeful John had looked when she’d told him, how crushed he was when she pushed him away again.

Navigating through New York’s traffic only had half of Y/n’s attention as she continued her drive from her last gig back to Lacy’s place. She was on Interstate 78, on her way back from a wedding; Y/n didn’t typically take wedding jobs, but they were willing to pay well for her talents and she needed something to distract her from the mess that was her personal life. Though, in retrospect, a wedding might not have been the best place to pass her time, all it did was serve to remind her that her relationship with the only person she ever wanted to marry was ruined. 

Even thinking about it made her teary. Sucking in a breath, Y/n blinked quickly, trying to clear her clouded vision and focus on the road, which was already difficult given the downpour. Sniffling, Y/n squinted her eyes, her grip on the wheel firm and her foot a little heavier on the gas than it should have been in that weather. It was reckless, but Y/n just wanted to get back before nightfall. 

For the briefest second, Y/n glanced at the touch pad that served to control the car’s radio system, huffing in annoyance as a song she had long grown sick of started playing. Her head couldn’t have been down for longer than a couple seconds, it was impossible that it had been more, as her lithe fingers danced on the screen, adjusting a couple setting and changing the song. Though, by the time Y/n had raised her head again, the road ahead was clear for a few feet well and the traffic light was going from amber to red. Gasping, her adrenaline kicked in and before she could register it, Y/n was shifting her foot from the gas, only to slam it on the brake. But it was too late, the front of her car had already cleared the white line, though for a minute, nothing happened. Everything was fine, for all of five seconds, which ended with another speeding car slamming into the back of her Highlander. 

Y/n jerked forward, the airbag saving her from hitting her head on the steering wheel, though the seat belt definitely bruising her neck and giving her a mild case of whiplash.

She wasn’t sure who’s car was the source of a blaring horn, nor did she see a crowd gathering around them despite the rain; she was too disoriented to notice much. Too disoriented and too busy hoping that the result of her carelessness wasn’t too major.

John’s heart was going a mile a minute as he jogged in through the automatic doors of the Emergency Room in a hospital in central New York. Rushing to the front desk, he slapped his hands to the cool counter, making the nurses jump, “My um....” well, she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore, though, John guessed it didn’t really matter in that situation. Still, he was thinking too quickly and eventually just dropped the whole thing, “Her name is Y/n Y/n/n, I got a call saying that she had been brought in.”

Quickly, the nurse pulled up Y/n’s file on the computer, then offered to lead him to the room she was in, “She’s right this way Mr. Wick.”

Still barely able to speak, John just nodded, close on the older woman’s heel as they walked up a hallway, all the way to a small room. She was a room, her own room. Not in of those curtained off bays or in a tiny exam room for check-ups. A room. John didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to Y/n, but his mind had gone on without him, and already he was thinking the worst. 

When they stopped at the closed cream door, he sucked in a breath and when the nurse smiled warmly, John wondered how she could even manage it. “Right through here,” she said, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Upon seeing her, awake and alert, some of John’s worry faded and he sighed in relief. “John?” Y/n pushed off the bed a little, trying to shake off the wire that kept her hooked up to the oxygen monitor. She seemed confused and surprised to see him, standing in the door way, hair disheveled and dressed haphazardly in a white t-shirt, jeans and his brown leather jacket. Didn’t she remember that he was still her emergency contact?

“I’ll give you two some space,” the graying woman in pale green scrubs slid out of the room behind John, pulling the door shut.

Ignoring the voice in his head that told him not to, John rushed over to Y/n’s bedside, lightly grabbing her shoulders and looking her over, as if he didn’t quite trust the doctors. She was bruised up on her face and neck, but otherwise, Y/n seemed fine, “Are you okay? What happened?”

A nervous shiver ran through her body and Y/n avoided John’s gaze, opting to look down at the blanket tossed over her lap, “I took my eyes off the road for less than five seconds and by the time I looked again, the light was changing. And then this other car....he was going probably faster than I was.....John,” she sobbed quietly, wishing more than ever that she could still be afforded the comfort of his embrace. 

Shushing her, John sat next to Y/n on the bed, pulling her into a consuming hug, pressing a lingering kiss to her hair. It took a while, but eventually, Y/n’s breathing had slowed enough for John to voice his other concerns, “Is the baby.....?”

Licking her lips, Y/n shifted uncomfortably and John took that as a signal to get off the bed and sink into the cozy chair near her bedside. Once again, they were un-touching and it was as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t happened. “I don’t know yet, I’m waiting for the Ob-gyn.”

“Okay,” John nodded, pulling his chair closer to her. they sat in silence for a while, though, eventually the silence became too much for even John, “I’m sorry about the way things went the other night.”

Y/n nodded, her face still downcast, “So am I,” she sniffled, swiping hastily at her face, “I’m sorry about everything,” she admitted meekly.

“It’s my fault,” John dismissed. Maybe if he’d been more open, Y/n wouldn’t have left in the first place, “I hid a lot from you, and I thought I knew what was best for you, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry for that too.”

Scoffing, Y/n clenched and unclenched her jaw, “I should have tried to talk to you, instead of leaving like that. I-”

Just then, a woman in a lab coat and scrubs walked in, greeting them both cheerily as she read from her tablet, “Oh, Ms. Y/l/n, looks like you had a little accident.”

“Yeah,” Y/n breathed, disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to tell John what she had been thinking. If that experience had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want to be without John, that she didn’t want to have to fill her day with frivolous distractions and regrets when they could just be together.

“Well,” the doctor, determined, pulling an ultrasound machine closer, “Why don’t we check on the little one?”

They went through the motions of getting everything ready, and when the doctor squeezed some clear blue gel onto Y/n’s still flat stomach, she hissed at the cold sensation. When the machine got fired up and the doctor started moving the transducer around on Y/n’s lower stomach, she instinctively reach for John’s hand, squeezing tightly, holding her breath for bad news.

John stood, one hand in Y/n’s, the other soothingly brushing through her hair. His eyes were closely trained on the monitor. He held his breath in anticipation, and for a minute, the young doctor furrowed her brows as she searched for a heartbeat. After a bit more searching and adjusting a couple pulse controls, a low throb rang through and the doctor sighed in relief. 

John smiled faintly, glancing down at Y/n who still looked to the obstetrician for confirmation, his ears being lulled by what seemed to be the sound of a steady heartbeat. “Okay,” the doctor finally chipped, “Congratulations mommy and daddy, all looks well!” She beamed and Y/n turned to John, happy tears making her eyes shine.

Y/n’s breathless laugh and her giddy smile was enough to flutter John’s heart, and when the doctor eventually turned the LCD screen towards them, his mouth dropped in awe. He couldn’t believe it, obviously, he knew how ultra sound machines worked, but seeing the little bean shaped life sitting comfortably against the static was more warming than he could have ever imagined it to be. A new swell of joy plumed in his chest, spreading out to even the tips of his fingers and all the way down to his toes. John could barely grasp it; he was a father, and he’d do everything in his power to be a good one.

“It’s too soon to tell the gender,” the doctor began again, “Unless you want to do a blood test.”

“No, we’re gonna wait a bit,” Y/n returned hastily, though, immediately after, she shifted her gaze to meets John’s eyes, Unless you don’t want too, then we can do it right now.”

Was that an olive branch?

Did that mean that even if Y/n didn’t take him back, she still wanted him involved?

John guessed it did, considering that she hadn’t kicked him out of the room yet. And she’d taken his hand, leaned into his touch the way she used to. Shaking his head, John took a chance at kissing her forehead, careful to avoid a painful blue and black bruise, and he didn’t see it, but Y/n’s eyes slipped closed in contentment just as his lips brushed her skin, his beard familiarly rough. Y/n didn’t realize how much she’d missed that.

“We can wait,” he reassured her, rubbing his thumb affectionately over hers, “It’ll be a nice surprise.”

Looking into his eyes, Y/n felt herself getting lost in them the way she used to before resentment started skewing her perception. “Yeah,” she licked her lips, desperately wishing she could kiss him, longing, just for a second, for them to be the couple that they used to be, “It will be.”

After the Ob-gyn had left them, a nurse had come in with discharge paperwork, and after an hour, Y/n was dressed and ready to go. Much to her surprise, John had stayed, and had awkwardly offered to drive her back to Lacy’s, an offer which she’d have to accept even if she didn’t want to; it was still raining and her car had been towed. 

Insisting that he wouldn’t stand for Y/n walking, even though it would just be for a few minutes, though the rain, John brought his Mustang around, stopping beneath the under-croft and even getting out to open the door for her. 

When they were safely inside, John turned the A/c on and music wafted softly from the deck. John drove slower than Y/n had, more carefully, and as he navigated New York, growing closer and closer to Lacy’s apartment building, the discomfort of the silence also grew. It was never like that; before, John and Y/n could spend hours together, perfectly comfortable with just being together, an exchange of words secondary. But that night, the tension of words unsaid hung between them, the moment at the hospital was gone and now they were just two people trying to find a way to fix their bent relationship, lost in their own thoughts. 

The red bricked building came into view soon enough, and Y/n was still debating what she should say. John pulled aside at the curb and by then the heavy rains had slowed, the shower still moderate, but not terrible. “I should go get an umbrella,” John was already undoing his seat belt, his hand closing in around the handle.

“John,” Y/n reached out for his free hand, surprising them both with the gesture. John stared down at Y/n’s small hand closed over his stocky fingers, only to raise his head and met her eyes. “I meant what I said at the hospital; I am sorry about the way things ended.”

“Do you regret it?” His voice low and gruff, tinged with emotion.

Nodding, Y/n blinked quickly, “Everyday,” she chocked up, “I know I have no right to; but I miss you John.”

Leaning over the console, John pressed his lips to Y/n’s and she responded almost immediately, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Y/n’s lips tasted just as sweet as John recalled and they were just as soft. “Come home,” he pleaded when they broke, still nose to nose.

“We still have a lot to work out,” Y/n argued weakly, rubbing her thumb over the top of John’s cheek. As much as she missed him, wanted him back, Y/n couldn’t go back to living the way they had before. There were so many changes that needed to made, things that needed to be talked through.

Inhaling deeply, John nodded slightly, “Just for tonight then, please, I just need to fall asleep next you tonight.”

Y/n too knew that she didn’t want to be alone, not after the day she’d had. And even if being at Lacy’s meant that she wasn’t truly alone, it wasn’t even close to being with John, to sleeping next to him, having his breath fan the back of her neck and his arm around her waist. That night, more than she had in the past six weeks, Y/n needed him. “Okay,” she submitted, “Just for tonight,” she pecked his lips again, and John wiped away a couple escaped tears from her streaked cheeks.

“Okay,” he tried to smile, “Just for tonight.”

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited  @cynic-spirit​

[bestillmyslashyheart]

own personal hell 3/3

part one || part two

It was nine days before Alex got Rosa’s text. It was another four before he could get back to Roswell. 

Michael never woke up. The crucifix brand on his arm erupted in fresh blood and boils, the scent of charred skin filling Maria’s apartment, on the third day. After that, they moved him into a private room at the hospital, the need to keep him alive overriding Isobel’s security concerns. On the seventh, Michael started cringing in pain and arching his back off of the bed until Kyle turned him on his stomach. A look under his shirt showed a back that was bruised a deep violent purple. A pained whisper of Max’s name clued Isobel into the bruise’s origins. She hadn’t thought Max had thrown him into the truck that hard but clearly she was wrong. 

Every day, Isobel lost hours to Michael’s mind. She shoved as many happy memories and positive thoughts at him as she could but she could only keep it up for so long. For every hour she was with Michael, she needed twice that to recover. If there was a silver lining from all of this, it was that Isobel was finally getting to know her brother. Standing next to him and facing his memories with him showed her first hand the horrors he’d faced in the system while she and Max had been safe at home with their parents. She watched him fall in love with Alex (watched him get his heart broken and fall in love again anyway, and then do it all over again, and again). There was so much more to their relationship than she had ever imagined. She watched and felt Michael and Max’s relationship splinter and fracture and crumble in the wake of Rosa’s death and their secret. She felt the soft glow of love and friendship in his memories of Liz and Maria and, surprisingly, Jenna Cameron. Then there was Caulfield. Isobel still had trouble processing Michael’s emotions from that day. There was elation and relief at not being alone, at having real family, but there was also heartbreak and rage and self-hatred for their deaths, for causing their deaths inadvertently. 

It was all a mess. Michael was a mess. And he was dying under the pressure of his own mind. All Isobel could do was stand there and watch.

On the thirteenth day, Isobel settled into the bed next to Michael and delved deep once again. As always, she was immediately bombarded with glimpses and snippets of Michael’s memories, his thoughts and feelings, as she searched for him. She never felt the weight of his memories until she was right next to him but it never occurred to her to stay away once she was in his head, no matter how uncomfortable she may get.

“Guerin?” Everything stilled. One word and the whirlwind of Michael’s thoughts paused. His head lifted up a fraction from where it was huddled in his arms. “Michael?” Isobel felt the calm start to wash over her as she felt the faint pressure of calloused hands cradling Michael’s left hand, careful of his injury. “Jesus Christ, Guerin.” Isobel could tell the speaker was whispering but she heard him loud and clear. Michael slowly uncurled.

“Alex?” He croaked.

Isobel’s eyes widened in surprise though she wasn’t sure why. Of course Alex would be the one to get through to Michael, that’s what she’d determined that first day, but she hadn’t recognized his voice. It sounded different through Michael’s ears. And, if she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t been entirely sure Alex could actually do it. 

“Can you hear me?” Alex sounded unsure, almost timid. Michael nodded in response even though Alex had no way of seeing him. Isobel saw that and rolled her eyes, pausing for just a moment to soak in the quiet before slowly pulling out. 

When she opened her eyes, Alex was standing next to the bed on Michael’s other side, his fatigues dirty as if he’d come straight here from training without pause. He looked weary and strangely hesitant somehow as he cradled Michael’s hand in his own, his thumb stroking gently over the bandage. “Bout time,” Isobel griped as she struggled to sit up. Alex jerked his head in surprise at her voice, one of his hands leaving Michael to help her up. “He’s quiet.”

“I-” Alex shook his head. “Kyle tried to explain what was going on but it didn’t make any sense.”

“Michael tried something new, it backfired, he’s trapped in his head in like this vortex of misery, and you’re the only one who get him out.”

“How?” Alex almost pleaded.

Isobel half shrugged. “Don’t ask me to explain your relationship with my brother to you. All I know is his mind is a mess and nothing has been able to soothe him even a little bit in two weeks until he heard your voice. When you said his name, things quieted in that head of his. So now I need you to convince him to wake up.”

“You realize we’ve barely spoken in months, right?” Alex blinked. “And you want me to, what, convince him to live?”

“Trust me, if I could do it I would have already. Maria already tried. Neither one of us in two weeks has accomplished a fraction of what you did by just saying his name.” Isobel didn’t think she’d have to convince him to save Michael. “Just, I don’t know, talk to him. Remind him that the memories he’s trapped in are just that. That reality is out here.”

Michael whimpered and Alex forgot Isobel was there. She watched as his hand hovered next to Michael’s face, his fingers twitching like he needed to touch. Michael’s head rolled to the side so he could face Alex. “‘lex?” Michael whispered.

It was the first word he’d spoken out loud since he’d fallen under.

“Yeah, Guerin, I’m here,” Alex promised, his fingers finally giving in to his desire as he cupped Michael’s face. His thumb rubbed over Michael’s cheek. “I’m here.”

“I might need to take you in,” Isobel suggested quietly. “So you can actually talk to him.”

“How do we do that?”

“Get comfortable,” Isobel directed. “You kind of lose track of time in there and you really shouldn’t be standing.” Alex pulled up a chair without letting go of Michael’s hand and nodded at Isobel to continue. “I’m going to go into your mind and make that connection and then bring you into Michael’s so you need to keep your mind open and let me in.

Alex nodded again and Isobel sank into the familiar feeling. Even with someone she’d never done this with before, the sensation was like greeting an old friend. Isobel barely had time to blink before the connection was in place.

“Is this it?” Alex asked immediately. He looked around them at the soft hazy space, a solid steel wall on his right. Isobel eyed it curiously, confused by the unexpected sight. 

“We’re in your mind,” Isobel explained absently, her attention still on the wall. 

“And now Michael’s?” Alex urged.

Isobel nodded and focused on Michael’s mind. At this point, it took nothing to slip inside. His mind opened up for her like the door of his Airstream. In a breath they moved seamlessly from Alex’s walled in serenity to the center of Michael’s tornado. Isobel braced herself for Alex’s reaction but she needn’t have worried. He immediately left her side and almost danced his way through the mess, careful not to disturb anything as he made his way straight towards Michael. Isobel wandered close enough to see them, to see Michael unfurl under Alex’s touch, but stayed far enough away to give them their privacy.

As the tension left Michael’s body, the space around her slowed until it stilled. And then it changed. What was an almost senseless void faded into the New Mexico desert, nothing around for miles except Michael’s beat up old truck which appeared beneath him and Alex. The sun was starting to set on the horizon and the sky was painted in swaths of orange and gold and purple.

Alex’s laugh filled the air. “You’ve got a thing for desert sunsets,” he teased lightly. Isobel looked over to see Michael shrug as he settled himself in Alex’s arms, the two of them braced against the window of the cab.

“What’s not to love?” Michael asked, his voice surprisingly clear.

Alex hummed in response, the slightest sound covering the distance between them and Isobel easily. “We never really got to see many of them.”

“Not yet,” Michael returned softly.

Alex looked down at him. “You want more sunsets?”

“Yeah.” Michael looked up at Alex. “It’s peaceful.”

“Calms the chaos?”

“No, that’s you. The sunsets are just the icing on top.”

“Michael-” Alex choked out. “You know this is a dream, right?”

“It’s a good dream.” Michael looked away. “Had a lot of nightmares lately.”

“So wake up,” Alex nudged him gently. “We’re in your head, Guerin. None of this is real. You want more sunsets? Wake up.”

Michael hummed. “But you won’t be there when I wake up. I only get you in my dreams.”

Alex moved Michael far enough away that Michael was forced to turn and look at him. “This may be a dream, but I’m real. I’m here and I’m in the damn hospital room next to you.”

“Fine,” Michael agreed easily. “But as soon as I wake up, you’ll leave again.”

“You wanted me to leave,” Alex reminded him. “You started a relationship with Maria and asked me to give you space to move on.”

“Yeah well I was an idiot. I thought I could be happy without you.”

“You are happy, Guerin.”

“No I’m not. Not really. I’m happier, I’m content, I’m solid for maybe the first time in my life, but I’m not happy.” Michael shifted fully away from Alex and looked out at the setting sun. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Alex confessed softly. “But I’m not having this conversation in your head. Wake up so we can talk for real.”

Michael sighed and shook his head. “It’s not all nightmares in here.”

Alex closed his eyes like he couldn’t believe Michael’s stubbornness. “Yeah? What’s the best dream you have?”

“Me and you, out here one night with our guitars. It was your third visit home after you left.”

“...and you remember the guitars?” The way he said guitars told Isobel that a lot more than music had happened that night.

Michael shrugged. “I get to relive the good stuff, not the best stuff.”

Alex seemed to come to a decision and nodded sharply before sitting up and swinging a leg over Michael’s and settling in his lap. Michael grabbed his hips as Alex tangled his fingers in Michael’s hair. Isobel watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Alex slowly closed the gap between them before pausing a hairsbreadth away from Michael’s lips. “You wanna what’s great about the real world?” Alex whispered. “You get more of the best stuff.”

Michael leaned forward to close the gap but Alex moved away after a few scant seconds. He was up and out of Michael’s lap before Isobel could blink. Michael’s groan filled the air. “Alex.”

“Wake up, Guerin,” he commanded. “I’ll be waiting.” He joined Isobel. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Isobel stared at him as Michael shouted his name.

“Let’s go. If we stay here, he has no reason to wake up.”

Isobel opened her mouth to argue before deciding against it. She gave Michael a lingering look before slipping out of his mind with Alex in tow. 

They woke up to Kyle hovering over them. “You’ve been out for six hours,” he chided. 

Isobel groaned as she tried to move, her limbs protesting the action after so long. “Any change in Michael?” Kyle shook his head.

“Did it work?” Liz asked from the doorway, Rosa peering over her shoulder. 

“Evidently not,” Isobel grumbled as she forced herself to her feet. Kyle pressed a bottle of acetone into her hands and she smiled gratefully before chugging half of the bottle. She’d likely spend the rest of the day sleeping this off but she wanted to stay awake as long as possible to see if Michael woke up.

Alex hadn’t moved from his chair, though he was massaging his leg like it ached something fierce. “You tried, Alex,” Isobel told him. “It’s up to him now.” 

Alex nodded as he accepted a quick hug from Liz and Rosa. Apparently he hadn’t stopped for pleasantries on his way in. 

They waited around for another hour before Isobel could hardly keep her eyes open and Alex admitted he desperately needed a shower. Kyle agreed to keep an eye on Michael while Liz and Rosa offered to drive the two of them home. They were almost out the door when-

“Reality sucks.”

The five of them nearly tripped over each other as they all rushed back into the room. Michael watched them bleary eyed from his bed. Isobel let out a watery laugh as she hugged Michael tightly before smacking him upside the head. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I promise.” 

“Hey Mikey,” Liz ducked in for a hug the second Isobel pulled away, “You had us all worried.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “How long was I out?”

“Two weeks,” Rosa told him as she ducked in to press a kiss to his cheek. She wasn’t a hugger unless it was Liz. Michael stared at her in shock.

“Two weeks?!”

“It’s why you’re in the hospital,” Kyle explained kindly. “We needed to keep an eye on you and make sure you got your fluids and nutrients.” Michael blinked at him. 

“Holy shit, I’m sorry Izzy,” he turned to her. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that.”

“I know,” she promised, gripping his hand tight. “And now you’re back.”

“Now I’m back.” He squeezed her hand and then looked away. Isobel didn’t need to follow his gaze to know he was looking for Alex.

“Alright. I seriously need to sleep for like a solid day so someone’s driving me home right now.” She hopped off of the bed and shooed Kyle and the Ortecho’s out ahead of her, unsubtly leaving Alex in the room with Michael. 

“You said you’d be waiting,” she heard Michael say.

“And here I am,” Alex replied.

“You also said the real world has the best stuff,” Michael half asked hopefully. Isobel closed the door on the sound of Alex’s quiet laugh and lips meeting.

She turned around to see Maria hunched over in a waiting chair, her knee bouncing anxiously. “Is he okay?”

The four of them paused, unsure of what to say. Isobel knew she wasn’t the only one to hear their exchange. 

“He’s okay,” Liz finally said. “He’s awake. But I think he and Alex need to talk so maybe give them some time?”

Maria’s face fell as she nodded. “Yeah, okay. You’re sure he’s okay.”

“He is,” Kyle promised. “Come on. We’ve all been up for weeks. Go home and get some sleep. Come back in the morning when you and he are both wide awake and not about to pass out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. That’s smart.” Maria cast a sad but resigned look at Michael’s door before gathering her things and following them out.

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 1

Phoebe Rose Bray wasn't a spontaneous woman. But when she drunkenly applied to become a seat filler six months prior, she hadn't been thinking about her internship or her god-awful boss, Margaret, or her starving bank account. She'd been feeling ambitious.

And that's why when she got the email regarding the Sixty-fourth Annual Grammy Awards, she huffed a rather annoyed sigh and silently accepted the invitation.

A massive turn of events, a tragic production slip-up, and a quick diversion led her exactly where she hadn’t intended on ending up: in front of millions of people, wrapped up in the arms of a pop sensation.

a/n: here it is. 1.6 k. new series, or so i think. we’re gonna see how this one goes first. feedback: appreciated

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Phoebe Rose Bray gave herself a one-over in her hotel bathroom, smoothing out her satin dress with her carefully manicured hands.

It wasn’t often that she travelled out of the country and it was far less often that she travelled alone. But when she drunkenly applied to become a seat filler six months prior, she hadn’t been thinking about her internship or her god-awful boss, Margaret, or her starving bank account. She’d been feeling ambitious.

And that’s why when she got the email regarding the Sixty-fourth Annual Grammy Awards, she huffed a rather annoyed sigh and silently accepted the invitation.

Phoebe began to understand the fuss about Los Angeles traffic when what should have been a ten-minute drive to the Staples Center turned into an hour-long road trip. Thank God Uber provided snacks.

It was more of a process than a celebration—for Phoebe, at least—and she was more interested in being assigned a seat than looking around for the faces of her childhood idols. Relieved to be inside with air conditioning and away from flashing cameras and hollering paparazzi, she settled into her seat and prayed to her lucky stars for a mediocre night.

The show was uneventful, for the most part. For the first half. As soon as the big categories began to surface, the crowd got antsy. From her spot at the back of the floor, Phoebe zoned in on the A-listers sitting closest to the stage, and it was clear they were shifting in their seats. Something was coming.

That something was Record of the Year, she deducted. She tried her best to focus on Justin Timberlake’s never-ending monologue about finally being able to host music’s biggest night, but the headset-wearing woman equipped with a clipboard was inevitable, and Phoebe knew where she was headed.

“You’re next,” the woman spoke, hastily yet quietly, “get ready.”

Phoebe kept a trained eye on the tops of people’s heads because she hadn’t memorized where each artist was sitting and it seemed like the only way she could possibly know where to go.

People came out—Katy Perry and some guy—to present the nominees. Phoebe straightened her spine and firmly planted her stiletto, preparing to jump up at any second. She reminded herself of the importance in being stealth, avoiding taking away from the artist’s acceptance speech because while this was their big moment, she was also contractually bound not to disturb the audience. Names were called. Snippets were played. An announcement was made. And before she knew it, Phoebe was silently power-walking toward the front of the arena, sitting her ass down in Lizzo’s still-warm folding chair.

The crowd had settled and she was giving a very animated speech about the song’s significance, and all Phoebe could focus on was the pointed boot almost touching her strapped-in-toes.

She was positive that the row of seven-or-so people sitting next to her were there together. Most of them muttered to each other during Lizzo’s speech, but the guy beside her was dead silent. He stared straight forward, face aimed directly at the stage. Phoebe could feel his brown eyes on her. She wondered if he was suspicious of her, or frowning upon the idea of seat fillers because maybe he believed that general audience members had no place up front. She never considered that the warmth engulfing her body wasn’t from her own embarrassment, but was instead radiating off of him.

The crowd broke into applause and they, together, realized that they, too, should probably be clapping. So they clapped. The show went on. And though neither of them said a word to the other, they were very aware of one another’s presence.

So much that Phoebe’s brain was running in circles, dreading the moment “Shawn Mendes” would be called as the winner of Album of the Year because he’d somehow have to wiggle past her, and she knew that with her luck she’d probably fall over. Her heart raced as she began debating whether she’d be standing with them in applause or remaining seated, and if she’d be shown on national television. It was all very much very fast and she didn’t even notice that Shawn was muttering under his breath in her direction.

“Psst,” she heard, and she turned in his direction quickly enough to give herself whiplash.

“What?” she whispered in a more offended tone than she’d hoped for. She just wasn’t expecting it.

“I said,” he spoke lowly, leaning in a little closer, “if it helps, I’m nervous too.”

“I’m n-”

“Yes, you are,” he cut her off, shooting her the million-dollar grin that was plastered on every billboard from New York to Tokyo.

He was ethereal. Phoebe knew that celebrities were ridiculously idealized in the media, and with the help of round-the-clock makeup artists and photoshop and endless reserves of cash, they were almost always eternally beautiful. But even this close up, with that damn curl hanging on his forehead, Shawn Mendes was inevitably gorgeous. She avoided his gaze.

“All I’m saying is,” he leaned in a little closer, and she was pretty sure she could feel his breath on her neck, “you can loosen up a bit. Sit back. Look around, no one’s looking at you,” he paused, allowed her to finally adjust to her surroundings, “except me.”

If she wasn’t blushing before, she was bright red now. She figured he would be like this—a womanizer, for the lack of a better term—but she never thought she’d fall victim to any of his one-liners.

Shawn clammed up when a uniformed-producer announced the final commercial break, and Phoebe sat in silence, unable to avoid eavesdropping on the group to her right.

“I’m not sure, man,” Shawn mumbled, leaning toward the suited guy beside him. Both of them were leaning forward, and Phoebe was able to make out the label on his seat. Andrew Gertler.

“Relax, Shawn,” the man she assumed to be Mr. Gertler spoke, “we’ve been here before. They’re either gonna recognize that you deserve it or they aren’t, and in both cases you need to remember that there’s a camera on you. Regardless of what you’re feeling, I need you to really sell it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn nodded, “just happy to be here. I know.”

“Good,” the man said before taking a sip of his water, “I have a good feeling, kid.”

Shawn didn’t respond. He took a deep breath and sunk back into his seat, watching intently as the rest of his team had a muffled conversation about the afterparty.

Phoebe picked at her cuticles until Shawn rubbed his massive hands together and muttered, “Showtime,” and Timberlake came out once again, thanking everyone for coming and prefacing some montage video of past Album of the Year winners.

She nudged his knee with hers. Shawn’s eyebrows shot up a bit, silently asking if the contact was intentional or if she was just a bit twitchy. She nudged him again.

“If it helps,” she whispered, neither of them looking at each other, “I’m nervous too.”

She couldn’t help but notice the tight-lipped grin creeping up his cheeks in her peripheral vision, and she knew that was just what he needed.

But the wave of comfort and confidence that had overcome Shawn didn’t last long, because the video was over and Pharrell Williams was standing before them, hastily reading through a list of eight album names as if these artists hadn’t put their absolute hearts and souls into each body of work.

A name was called. Phoebe wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but it didn’t belong to Shawn Mendes. The sinking feeling in his stomach somehow translated to her because she, too, felt it. Weightless.

Something was happening, though. The split-screen of nominees hadn’t focused-in on the winner as it usually would, and by some work of the devil it was displaying a massive live-video of Shawn’s face. And the heartbreak-with-a-hint-of-anger written all over it.

Neither Shawn nor his team had caught on to the technical slip-up, and the few seconds they were all on camera felt like hours to Phoebe. She was thinking at a million miles a second, debating tapping him on the shoulder or just saying something, anything, to bring his attention to his very-public negative reaction.

She knew this would be the big headline.

Unless she could make an even bigger one.

Without thinking long enough to convince herself otherwise, Phoebe twisted in her seat and faced the man she’d been so intimidated by for the last half-hour. His distraught eyes met her determined ones, and before he could resist, she muttered something along the lines of, “Just go with it,” and lunged at him, kissing him with everything she had.

Shawn froze and Phoebe panicked—had he not hit on her, this wouldn’t have even been a thought in her mind—but quickly, he melted into it. The gears began turning and her words had convinced him that she had a reason, supported by the way she kissed him with such purpose.

Her hand was on his jaw and his were in her hair, and while he refrained from slipping her the tongue for the sake of everyone watching at home, he still kissed her wildly.

Andrew was jostling Shawn’s arm. The cameramen had sorted their shit out. And Phoebe was up from her seat and running out of the arena faster than any of it had even happened.

taglist: @shxwnmxndess @sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren @casuallycoolcloud @sinplisticshawn @deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13 @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy

[ifyoucouldholdme]

Never Have I Ever

Pairing: Stenbrough

Word Count: 3137

Read on AO3

Maybe partying this hard was not the wisest choice, but it had been one hell of a week for Stan. After surviving midterm exams, there was also a group project, an oral presentation, and several papers to turn in. As well as his schoolwork, Stan also found himself actively avoid Bill. This turned out to be more difficult than he had first thought since they lived on the same hall of the dorms. Bill hadn’t actually done anything to warrant such a silent treatment, but lately Stan noticed himself developing a strange fixation on his easy-going friend. Little things would catch his eye. Bill’s stardust freckled face. The way he gently bit his bottom lip when concentrating on his novel of the week. Over time, Stan had come to terms with his sexuality regarding his faith and his religious upbringing. That did not change the fact that falling for a straight boy—a straight best friend—was begging for heartbreak. These thoughts couldn’t bother him if he kept himself from constantly seeing Bill.

This is why the glass of Moscato he usually nursed at these Losers’ Club get-togethers tonight became three shots of tequila with a Sprite chaser. The giddy lightheadedness, although not a sensation he usually enjoyed, was miles better than worrying about grades or schoolboy fantasies.

“Stanley, there you are!” An exuberant Eddie appeared seemingly from nowhere. “How did you end up in the kitchen, silly?” Stan had no recollection of making his way to a cross legged perch on top of the kitchen counter, but given the shots and his lovestruck musings, that wasn’t surprising. Eddie just shook his head, giggling. He grabbed Stan’s wrist and dragged him away, “Come on, Stanny-Bird, stop nesting by yourself. We’re about to start a game in the living room.”

“Isn’t Richie supposed to be the one with the stupid nicknames?” Stan teased, finding his voice once again.

Eddie flustered a bit. “Yeah, I guess he’s rubbed off on me, hasn’t he?”

“That’s not all I’ve done to you, Spaghetti, my love,” a plastered Richie crooned from atop their surprisingly sturdy coffee table.

“Fuck off, Tozier,” Eddie retorted with a middle finger and a sloppy wink.

“Will do, babe. Now get in the circle. I want to get some new dirt on you guys.” The boys dropped into place with the others. Stan felt a wave of joy mixed with his drunkenness as he glanced around at the rest of his friends. Beverly and Ben had already squished themselves the sole recliner available. Mike lounged in front of the television, probably already to drunk to move. Bill had, fortunately for Stan, had to finish a research paper of his own, which is the only reason Stan had allowed himself any alcohol in the first place.

“The name of the game,” Richie belted, “is Never Have I Ever! We each take turns declaring something we’ve never done, if nobody cheats,” he shot a narrow glare at Beverly, “and all you dirty sluts that have done it must take a sip of whatever drink they choose. Got it?”

               “Shut up so we can get started,” Stan bossed louder than he anticipated. Richie eyed him with a curious gaze which made him tense a little. “Stan the Man! Eager beaver tonight. You’re usually the buzzkill in these things.”

               That’s only when Bill’s here. Richie’s expression took a more mischievous shape. Did I say that out loud? Thankfully, Richie either took mercy on Stan or didn’t actually hear anything, because he plopped into his own spot next to Eddie. “Who’s going first?”

               Bev leaned forward and almost toppled out of the chair. “I got one. Never have I ever snuck into someone else’s room after dark,” she slurred, sending a challenging smirk in Richie’s direction. He raised an eyebrow as he drank from his beer.

               “I see how it is, Marsh,” he replied. Eddie chuckled playfully at the thought of Richie and Beverly duking it out. “Oh, you think that’s funny?” his boyfriend said from under a mess of unkempt bangs. “Alright, then. Never have I ever belted along to Mamma Mia in the shower.”

               “Oh, you ass!” Eddie slapped his arm and took a drink. Across the circle, Ben tried to unsuccessfully hide his own raised glass. “See, at least Ben can appreciate some culture.”

               Stan watched the ensuing tickle fight, a drunken smile tinged with a touch of longing on his face, unaware of the knock at the door behind him. He loved his friends more than even his own family, but the teasing banter between the couples twisted his chest into a jumbled mess. Every affectionate touch only reminded him that he would never be held by the one boy that he dreamt of. That he would never feel Bill’s hands in his. That when his night terrors woke him in the darkness, he would be alone no matter how fervently he prayed otherwise. At least tonight there was no sign of Bill to make him feel even worse, and he had the tequila to make him feel better.

               “Give us a good one, Stanley. I’m getting bored over here,” Mike interrupted Stan’s pity party. He sputtered back to attention.

               “My turn already?”

               “Yeah, Eddie went to get the door, so you’re next,” Richie nudged him with a bony elbow. “Let’s have some scandals already!”

               Stan’s mind drifted and muddled too much to think intricately enough to find anything racy enough for a drunk Trashmouth, so he settled on the first thing his addled brain suggested. “Never have I ever been naked in front of somebody. Well, besides my parents, anyway.” Then again, maybe he could.

               “Well, damn,” Richie cawed, as he took another sip of his beer, along with all the other Losers. “I guess Stan the Man isn’t a man just yet. We’ll have to fix that soon, Virgin Stanny.” He gave Stan a salacious wink.

               “S-Stan’s a v-v-virgin?” came the familiar voice, giving Stan chills.

               Oh, no. No, no, no, no. He’s supposed to be busy tonight. Nevertheless, there stood Bill, cheeks as bright as the tuft of hair brushing the top of his brow. This monolith of Stan’s childhood had indeed arrived. He had tried so hard to avoid the other boy this week, and now he had to maneuver the evening through the haze of alcohol and lovestruck fantasies. Worst of all, because his stupid, unfiltered brain, his crush now knew he was completely inexperienced romantically. Shit.

               Mike and Beverly erupted in a cheer upon seeing Bill make his way to the open spot directly across the circle from Stan, because of course he would. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever and apparently already learning some new secrets,” she explained, giving Stan an overly exaggerated grin. The poor boy anxiously bit his lip and stared at Bill, waiting for any reaction. Bill’s eyes were planted on him in an almost melancholy stare.

               “I n-noticed,” he plainly stated.

               Stan knew he shouldn’t have hidden from Bill and understood that the other must feel confused and likely hurt. After all, his best friend had basically stopped talking to him for most of a week, all because Stan couldn’t handle falling in love with Bill when he knew that Bill couldn’t love him back. Did Stan truly love Bill beyond a silly infatuation? Gazing at the sullen boy across from him—his leader, his inspiration— he supposed he did in fact love Bill. He loved him with all he was, no matter what his father or the Torah condemned. No matter the pain of his unrequited attachment.

               “You guys skipped me?” Eddie exclaimed in only slightly exaggerated irritation. Richie tried to appease him with a giggly peck on the cheek but got an elbow in the ribs for his effort. “Aw, chillax, babe. You got up during your turn, and I’m impatient. I just wanna get to the dirty shit.”

               “You want dirty?” Eddie snipped, “Fine.” He turned into the circle in a theatrical fashion usually expected from his ham of a lover. “Never have I ever sucked a dick in a public restroom!” Everybody tried to muffle a cacophony of snickers as Richie’s face turned a deep crimson.

               “That is totally not fair, Eddie! You were there too.”

               “Yeah, but I just gave you a hand job.” He stuck out his tongue, satisfied and victorious.

               “M-maybe I should’ve w-waited a f-few more minutes b-before coming over.” All eyes turned to watch a still blushing Bill unashamedly took a drink of his freshly opened beer. Stan’s blood dropped to a freezing chill.

Eddie, intensely intoxicated, missed what was unsaid yet understood. “No, Billy, I said ‘sucked a dick’ not ‘gotten my dick sucked.’”

“I k-k-know.” Eddie stared quizzically at his reddening face. Everybody else was too dumbstruck to properly react. The up until now straight Bill Denbrough self-consciously lowered his gaze and muttered, “Y-you said you w-wanted s-s-secrets…”

 What. The. Fuck.

 Stan had finally been coming to terms with never having a romantic future with Bill—Straight Bill Denbrough—and now here’s the man of his dreams basically admitting he’s not entirely straight after all. This should have brought him an overabundance of excitement, instead it toppled the so carefully balanced platter of stress that had accumulated inside him all week long.

“Well,” Richie had finally regained his ability to form words again. “Hell yeah, Big Bill!” He half leapt, half scrambled over the coffee table to give Bill an uncoordinated high five. “That’s my boy!”

Why hadn’t Bill told Stan this? They never kept secrets from each other. Except for Stan’s feeling of course, but that was for good reason.

“So, are you like bi then?” Bev asked, the game mostly forgotten.

Did Bill not trust him? Or worse yet, did Bill know that Stan loved him and just pretended to like girls as some shitty way of letting him down without flat out rejecting him?

“N-no, I d-don’t think so. I mean, y-y-yeah, I’ve dated a few g-g-girls, but not really because I wanted t-to. You know what other p-people think about…well, about p-people like m-m-me.”

Bill’s eyes grew misty, but Stan was in too deep of a spiral to notice. On a normal day, he would’ve kept his cool. On a normal day, he would’ve given his polite smile until he returned to his room where he could violently sob in secret. Instead, tonight Stan had alcohol, and he had emotions, and he had to find out that the love of his life was gay by hearing him admit to fooling around with someone else during a freaking drinking game!

“What the actual fuck, Bill?!” Stan erupted. The others snapped their heads towards him, Bill uttering a startled, “W-w-what?”

“You’re gay?”

“I g-guess…is that a p-p-problem?”

Stan scoffed. “No. No problem at all. Let’s keep playing. I’ve got one. Never have I ever hidden a secret from my best friend.”

“Stan—”

“Drink, Bill.”

The confusion across his freckled face now melted into pained anger. “F-fine. Never have I ever avoided my b-best friend with no w-warning. D-d-drink, Stan.”

Stan was not about to let this argument turn on him, even if he knew he did not hold the moral high ground. “Never have I ever felt like I couldn’t trust my friends,” he roared.

“N-never have I ever been a j-judgmental asshole,” Bill fired back, equally outraged. Ben, ever the peacekeeper, tried to deescalate the situation. “Guys, let’s calm down before—”

It was out of Stan’s mouth before he could catch it. “Never have I ever shoved some guy’s dick down my throat!”

Bill gave not retort this time. He just quietly set his unfinished beer on the table. Immediately losing all the fire in his chest, Stan tried to take back his words. “Bill, I didn’t—”

“Stop.” No anger. No stutter. Bill was done. He rose quickly from his spot on the floor. “I think I s-should b-b-be g-going.”

“Bill…” Eddie trailed after him.

“T-thank you for inv-viting m-m-me Eddie. Every one of them caught sight of the tears that started to leak from his broken eyes.” Then he was out the door without another word.

Stan’s entire world swirled to a screeching, sobering halt. “Way to go, fuck up,” he whispered to himself, not caring anymore if someone heard, as his own sorrow trickled over his cheeks. “You lost him for good, now.” The shame overwhelmed him, and he buried his face in his arms. A gentle hand caressed his hunched back as a surprisingly sober voice washed over him. “Well, you definitely were an ass, just now, but you can’t lose Bill that easily.”

“Yeah, right, Bev,” he snapped through a hitch in his breathing.

“Stan, the only reason you’re not getting a major lecture right now is because we know. You don’t have to say it. We can see how much you love that boy.” Stan skeptically glanced at each of the Losers who now gathered around him, expecting faces full of anger and disgust. The looks of concern there instead fueled the rising guilt caught in his throat. “I’m sorry, guys,” he croaked in defeat.

“We don’t need an apology, Stan,” Eddie waved it off, “Just know that we love the shit out of you, no matter what stupid things to do.”

Richie, trying to be somewhat serious added, “I mean, look at the stupid shit I do every day, and I’m still here.”

“Bill cares about you just as much too. Probably more so,” Mike offered.

Stan let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, right. He definitely hates me now.”

“Then go apologize,” Bev directed him, getting tired of his wallowing, “Go show him how you feel about him, ok?”

“What if he refuses to speak to me?”

Beverly flashed one of her patented warm-as-sunshine smiles. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

 With quivering knees and a massive clump of dread in his stomach, Stan hesitantly knocked on the door to Bill’s dorm, prepared for the worst. The resounding thud bounced away down the lifeless hallway. Stan waited in excruciating silence, almost ready to leave and try again later, until he heard the muffled pattering of uneven footsteps. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled looking Bill. He had already changed into a worn shirt and the hideous tie-dye slipper socks Richie bought for his secret Santa present this year. The redness around his eyes and the tissue crumpled in his fist, however, suggested that he had been crying instead of sleeping. The shock of such a distraught Bill almost triggered Stan into another guilt driven breakdown, but he blinked back his own tears, determined to say what he had come here to say.

“Stan,” Bill hoarsely spat in an unwelcome grumble.

“Hey, Bill,” Stan replied in his own terrified mumble. The air was empty and tight for a moment as neither boy knew how to continue. “I need to talk to you,” Stan blurted suddenly. Bills brow furrowed into a frustrated divot.

“I t-think you’ve s-said enough,” he dismissed as he started to close the door. Stan jumped forward, lodging himself between it and the frame.

“Please, just wait,” he pleaded, “I want to apologize. You were just trying to be yourself with us—” Bill’s eyes flickered anxiously to either side of them, scanning the hall. “Not here,” he snapped in a harsh whisper, hastily pulling Stan into his room. The door slammed shut, and he locked it behind them. “It’s n-not safe to talk ab-bout that stuff outside.” The light was off, and a blanket cascaded across the floor, confirming that Bill had indeed been having a breakdown of his own. The thought brought a lump to Stan’s throat. “I’m sorry about tonight,” he said, “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

That hurt, but Stan knew he deserved such a blunt reaction. Bill was far from through, though. “Do you kn-know how long I’ve w-wanted to tell you guys? D-do you understand w-what it took for m-me to even tell m-m-myself? I hated m-myself for years. I tried to change. I tried to hook up with g-g-girls, but n-nothing worked.

“B-but things eventually g-got easier. The jokes and the s-slurs I hear from the rest of g-guys in c-class every day didn’t s-scare me as m-much. It was finally n-not the end of the w-world if I was…” His stance never faltered, but now Stan was fully aware of Bill’s reddened eyes and wet cheeks. “I w-wanted to t-tell you Stan, I p-p-promise. I f-finally decided that I had t-to, no m-matter how scared I was. B-but then you stopped t-talking to m-me, and when you s-saw me, you would r-r-run away f-from me. I thought you s-somehow found out on y-you own,” Bill rasped, losing his voice as a new stream of tears poured out. “B-but I never thought that y-you would be that d-d-d-disg-gusted—”

“Bill, you are anything but disgusting.” Stan’s heart couldn’t handle any more of Bill talking so honestly about how badly Stan had hurt him.

“I s-saw your f-f-face. Why else w-would you s-say that?”

“Because I was jealous!” Stan exploded. “All I want is for you to ask me out, or hold my hand, or hell, even just look at as something more than just your friend. God knows, I spend every night praying that you’ll notice me. But finally finding out that you’re gay by hearing about you having sex with somebody else? I’m not strong enough for that. I’m sorry.”

An eternity passed as they stood in the dark, both crying and staring at the floor. Stan wanted to leave, to avoid embarrassing them any further, but he also couldn’t bear to leave Bill alone in such an upset state once more.

“I wish it had been you.”

Stan thought he misheard. He looked up, but the boy in front of him still avoided eye contact. “It w-wasn’t a fun experience. I w-was so lonely, I f-found the first guy who was even remotely interested. When he w-was done, he just cleaned up and l-l-left.” He lifted his head, and whimpered as his voice finally broke, “I w-w-wish I could’ve been with someone I l-love. I w-wish it was you.”

Cautiously, Stan took Bill’s hand in his. The sobbing boy reciprocated the touch, clenching his fingers tightly in Stan’s firm grasp.

“I’m sorry, Bill. For what I said tonight, for avoiding you, and for not seeing how much pain you’ve been living with.” He felt the other’s pulse calming in the comforting connection, almost becoming one with his own.

“Stan,” Bill whispered, “d-does it ever g-get easier?” Stan, never releasing his grip, pulled them together, holding his best friend impossibly close. “Yeah, babe,” he cooed breathlessly into Bill’s neck. “It will.”

[mariacalirfs-blog]

Over Halfway

Hello! It’s been a bit since I wrote. Last time I posted, I had just settled into my spot in Dunedin. It ended up being a tremendous choice, and I’m so glad I had a month there. I really loved the city and its energy, and had my favorite cafes, bookshops, and street art locations. Lots of good feelings of belonging and appreciation for Dunedin. 

Before I left home, I had a dinner out with Jessie, Mom, and Dad, where we all shared hopes for me and my trip. One of those was being in one place long enough to build community and relationships. That hope was most definitely met while being in Dunedin. It had its ups and downs, but I had a solid group of friends in the hostel who I became really close with, and a strong sense of connection to the Dunedin community. My days were filled with lots and lots of vacuuming, hiking, city exploring, and tea and TimTams (a classic NZ cookie); my nights were filled with Uno games, movie nights, restaurant work, jazz cafes, and lots and lots of belly laughs. 

It was pretty hard to leave that place and that sense of comfort and belonging, but when my first month was up (which is how long I initially agreed to) I decided to take it as a cue to keep exploring the country. I headed off a few days ago, after a last meal of lasagna, garlic bread, ice cream, and brownies (mile lactose intolerance who?) with three of my best pals. 

First stop was the Moeraki boulders, a collection of rocks which are incredibly round. It’s always a bit funny when I come across places I remember from when the whole family came in 2013, and this is one of those spots! I tried to recreate a photo, but was sadly missing the most essential component: Jessie.  Next location was Oamaru, a small town that has been reinvigorated with art and artisans in the last decade. In and around Oamaru, I saw both the rare yellow penguins and the tiny blue penguins! No great photos of either, but they’re special animals to see.  I also saw a bunch of sea lions, and one rock that looked very much like a sea lion! 

Timaru was my next destination, only about an hour drive from Oamaru. There I stayed with Neil and Sue, the brother and sister-in-law of Howard, my friend I met in Alaska. They are absolutely lovely and loving people, and it was so wonderful to stay with them. Our conversation never stopped flowing, covering all kinds of topics. They were really interested to hear about Unitarian Universalism and that community space, and would love more of that in their city. 

The next day, I explored the Banks peninsula outside of Christchurch with a German friend from the hostel, named Mel, who I may travel to Thailand with in May! We went to the town of Akaroa, the last bit of land in New Zealand that the French tried to hold a claim on. All of the streets are Rue such and such, and all the restaurants have names like “Le Thai” and “Ratatouille.” My French friend wanted to ensure I realized it was nothing like France, but it is interesting to see the French influence in a country where I mostly see Maori, British, and Scottish infleunces. The peninsula was beautiful, and I spent a nice night camping by the ocean. Camping alone definitely makes me wish my camping buddies were with me, though! An activity I find much more fun with family and friends. 

I spent a boring day in Christchurch working on taxes from far away (thanks Mama for your help!), and working out some plans for Thailand. I also drove past one of the mosques that was attacked, where there is still a heavy police presence. This was an incredibly heartbreaking event, and I have had some challenging experiences talking with people who are reacting in ways I don’t expect they would if the group attacked was white, rather than Muslim communities. Still, there has overall been a tremendous outpouring of love and support and solidarity. The call to prayer was played in Auckland and over all radio stations before a two minute silence on Friday, and women around the country wore headscarves as a mark of solidarity requested by some leaders in the NZ Muslim community. There were immediate actions taken to ban assault rifles in the country, and it has just been such a different experience witnessing how the leaders of this country have responded to a terrible shooting event. Every city I’ve been in has had huge areas of signs, chalk messages, and other expressions of support and love, which has been important to see.

I headed west, on a slightly harrowing drive with gale-force winds and high rains. I had hoped the storm was settling down, which is why I still headed that way, but the odds were not in my favor. Still had some decent views of Arthur’s Pass, and will hopefully have slightly better weather heading up the west coast, but rain is common over here and I’m happy to take it in stride! I’ll be doing three days of backpacking in the Abel Tasman park soon, so will be off the grid Thursday-Sunday. 

I am over halfway though my trip now, and it feels like it’s been both less time and way more time than that? A mixed sensation to be sure. Likely plan is NZ until the end of April, Thailand in May, and then home for two weeks before heading down to Nashville, my home for the next year! I’ve officially accepted my admission at Vanderbilt. Not excited about the very quick turnaround time, but excited for that next chapter in my life. 

Scrambled up this hike to be atop the Organ Pipes!

Sunrise over Dunedin

One of the pieces of street art I walked by most days in Dunedin

Sea lion waves hello!

Hogwartz pals on last night <3 

Moeraki boulders. Where is Jessie??

Penguins and sea lions hiding down on the beach

[musingsoflulu]

boston marathon recap

ahhhh, take me back to this past weekend, please?! i wanted to document everything so i could look back and smile, smile, smile remembering my first boston experience. 

after work on thursday, we drove up to my parents’ house and spent the night before leaving for charlotte the next day. my mom and my aunt laura came with us, which was so so so much fun. our flight left early friday afternoon and we landed in boston mid-afternoon.

our air bnb was THE CUTEST. an old victorian home located in jamaica plain (we got to stay in the turret!) our hosts were the absolute best- we had a private entrance, they stocked the fridge with essentials, and they also offered to leave me foam rollers, yoga mats, etc, etc. 

after settling into our air bnb, we set out into the city for dinner. we decided on a seafood restaurant in back bay, which was ~okay~ but not mind-blowing. while walking back to the T, we grabbed some pastries from whole foods and some wine from a shop we passed. mom giggled as she picked up a huge smirnoff ice and i totally thought she was kidding, but nope, she wanted it and i spent all weekend laughing about it. 

the next morning, i slept in and had coffee and my chocolate croissant in our cute little kitchen before heading out to bib pickup and the expo! 

it was so exciting seeing all of the celebration jackets from years past as we waited in line to get in. so many different colors and i thought about how many unforgettable experiences these people had at this marathon and how i was about to run it for the first time. how this would hopefully be my first of many boston marathons. how my kids will laugh at all of my colorful celebration jackets hanging in my closet years from now. 

???can you feel my excitement???

the highlight of the expo was stumbling upon scott jurek doing book signings for his new book, “north.” what’s more, clif was givng them out for free while their supplies lasted!!! so as i stood in line, i was pleasantly surprised when they just casually handed us a book for him to sign. when it was our turn to meet him, i mentioned that we actually lived off of the appalachian trail and he asked which part. when we told him, he said “omg i HATE that place! i was so close to quitting there!” and then he wrote a little funny statement about how our town sucks and finished it with a smiley face. it was the coolest and made me feel so badass for training in that area. 

around this time, logan felt so sick (?food poisoning from not so good seafood the night before?) and so we ran to tracksmith on newbury street to grab another swag bag and then grabbed a late lunch before heading back to the air bnb for the night. 

so much swag. 

while logan slept away his sickness, mom and aunt laura and i spent the night snuggled up on the couch rewatching “big little lies” and eating greek takeout. 

the next morning, i went out for a very short shakeout run in the nearby park while snow flurries fell. 

then we ran over to quincy market for lunch!

we explored downtown crossing and i had my first london fog (uhhh so good?!)

then we visited the finish line and there was SO MUCH EXCITEMENT in the air. it was so windy and cold and snow flurries were falling but i didn’t even care because i knew no matter what the weather brought, i’d be crossing that finish line the next day. 

we made dinner reservations at an italian place in the north end called “taranta” and properly carb loaded before the big day. 

i spent the last part of the night getting all of my stuff together. it was actually really stressful trying to figure out what exactly i needed to wear, when to shed it, making sure i had all my gels, extra socks, etc. 

anyone who watched the race knew the conditions SUCKED. i prepared well for the most part. i packed an old pair of running shoes i decided i would wear to the start line and wouldn’t mind leaving behind right before the race started. i also packed throwaway socks. we grabbed some used clothes at goodwill before we left for boston and i would wear these while i waited for my wave to start. i had eggs and toast prior to leaving the air bnb and packed a stroopwaffle to have while i waited at the athletes’ village. i packed 3 gu gels to have during the race- my favorites, chocolate sea salt and salted caramel. 

i debated back and forth about whether i should wear shorts or tights during the race and ultimately decided on my tracksmith twilight shorts. i’d run in these in heavy rain during training runs and they never felt like they weighed me down at all. i decided on the light, moisture wicking long sleeve shirt i wore at harpeth hills and my tracksmith run bra. 

sunday night, i had decided a sub 3:15 marathon was probably not going to happen given the weather conditions. i’d be happy if i got a sub 3:35 so i could come back next year. but then i woke up monday morning and read a post by tommy rivers puzey (one of flagstaff’s coconino cowboys). 

“All the best to those racing tomorrow. Don't squander this, or piss away this gift. Don't talk yourself out of accomplishing the goals you have just because of some wind and a little rain. Remember that there are countless individuals who would give anything to be in your place right now. Send it tomorrow morning. Give em hell. Respect the race, and the distance. Respect your competitors and the legacy of all those who have tread before you. The sacrifices. The servicemen and women. The survivors. The sweat and the tears and the blood.”

and i realized- in the end, it wouldn’t be the weather that stopped me from accomplishing my goals. it would be my excuses. so i wrote this on my hand and decided, yes, i was still going to aim for a 3:15. 

as i hopped off the T on monday morning, i was greeted by random people on the street high-fiving me, yelling “go runners! we love our runners!” and i had this overwhelming sensation and almost broke down into tears. this was happening. i couldn’t believe it. this race was already so special to me and i hadn’t even run it yet. 

i kissed everyone goodbye and hopped on the bus to hopkinton and immediately had to pee (why does this always happen?!). the bus ride to hopkinton was fairly quiet and our bus wasn’t full at all. i remember thinking “ugh, can we just wait on the bus until our wave starts?” it was so dry and warm and nobody wanted to go trudging out into the athletes’ village and stand in the mud. 

after power walking to the portapotties to empty my bladder, i made my way into a tent and stood in the mud huddled with other runners. a guy from scotland looked at me and said “i’d say it’s a treadmill day.” ha! i met two other runners that were around my age and they were in my wave, as well. it was one runner’s first boston as well and we talked about how we really knew how the pick the right year as the rain poured and the wind howled right outside the tent. 

i didn’t have to wait long before my wave was called and we started making our way to the start line. all along the way i was stressed about when exactly i was going to shed my throwaway clothes (not realizing they had donation bags right up to the start line). i left my old muddy purple Fates and dirty, wet socks outside a Hopkinton high school classroom. The windows were decorated with encouraging signs made by students- “run. walk. crawl. just don’t give up.” 

i finally made it to my corral, shed my pants and sweatshirt and decided to keep my rain poncho on for as long as i could during the race. before i knew it, 10:25 AM was here and i was smiling like an idiot as i crossed the start line of the boston marathon while rain smacked me in the face. 

i started off fast (oops)- the race started on a downhill. by mile 3, my damn bladder was full again (how?!) and i decided i would need to pee or else i’d probably not get enough water along the course. so i stopped for 30 seconds at mile 5 and peed as fast as I could. 

despite the weather, the streets were lined with spectators! people screaming from their homes in hopkinton and ashland. 

before i knew it, 8 miles had flown by and i thought “what?! no! where has the time gone?!”

the rain was constantly beating down in my face and i felt i wasn’t able to fully look around and enjoy a lot of the course, unfortunately. 

at mile 12.5, we passed the kissing wellesley girls. this was on my bucket list. even though the kissing mile is traditionally for the men running, i was determined i was going to get a kiss from a wellesley girl at my first boston marathon. i ran up to a group and pointed to my cheek and they were literally so confused. i am still laughing about it. finally, one girl kissed me on the cheek and i took off running again, yelling “THANK YOU!” 

the wellesley crowds were insane as we ran through the town and i remember a HUGE gust of wind blew and it became a torrential downpour and every runner around me started screaming “YES, BRING IT ON!” so much grit, so much determination. nothing was getting in our way from getting to boyston. 

around mile 16, my stomach started cramping. i’d had 2 gus and i thought if i didn’t go to the bathroom when i could, it might turn into something more dramatic. so i stopped again. and this time walked straight into a portapotty where someone had completely missed the toilet during their bathroom emergency. here’s the thing about runners- you put us in race mode and literally nothing bothers us. i was functioning off of pure adrenaline and didn’t even hesitate to squat instead of wait for another portapotty to open up hahaha. 

i was expecting to see my people around mile 16 of the course, but never did (turns out, they couldn’t find a way to make it out there and back to the finish line in time). and before i knew it, i was flying up and down the hills of newton. 

i was initially nervous about this part of the course, but once i hit it, i realized i was more than prepared for these hills. at mile 21, i kept thinking, “heartbreak hill” has got to be coming up and somebody else beside me voiced this too. then another runner was like “you’re ON heartbreak hill!” and two men were like “wait, this is heartbreak hill??? oh hell, we are three leg racing up this shit.” and they proceeded to step on the side of the course and tie their legs together. it was wild. and hilarious. 

i managed a decent time coming up heartbreak, although my legs and hips were feeling it and i could feel myself fading and slowing down. the last 5 miles of the course were brutal, with head winds becoming stronger. i couldn’t will my legs to move as fast as i wanted them to. it had been like running through a damn wind tunnel for the past 22 miles and it was only getting harder. 

despite my pace slowing, i was all smiles by the time i reached the landmark citgo sign and as i turned onto boylston street, the entire street was lined with crowds of people cheering as loud as they could over the sound of the rain. i crossed the finish line with a huge smile. i didn’t even know my exact time, but knew i was close to my previous richmond time. no idea if i had PR’ed or not (i ended up PR’ing- by 3 seconds lol). 

a volunteer put that coveted medal around my neck. i was wrapped up in a space blanket and set out to stand in the cold and rain while i waited for my family lol (literally worse than the marathon, honestly). when logan finally located me, we hurried home so i could sit in a boiling hot bath and defrost. 

we celebrated at a cute little restaurant in jamaica plain that evening (as recommended by @lauralovegoods) and i high-fived other runners who had come in to celebrate too. 

i know this was long-winded and if you read all of this- i love you. the amount of support i received from all of you wonderful humans throughout the entire process just blows me away. i received so many encouraging and exciting messages leading up to boston and so many congratulatory messages afterward. i also just want to give a major shout out to the incredible volunteers and spectators. these people make the boston marathon great. these people stood out in the pouring rain and cold so that others could achieve their dreams. they’re the real MVPs and their selflessness astounds me- something i’ll never be able to convey in words. 

i didn’t end up getting my 3:15, as planned. but that’s okay. i gave it my all and am so happy i was able to achieve such a solid time in such brutal race conditions. i know if the weather had been more ideal, i would have taken that 3:15 by the horns. 

i’ll be back next year, boston. ya won me over before it even started. 

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Body of Work

Body of Work Fandom: Code Lyoko Pairing: Ulumi Summary: AU in which there was no XANA and they’re all normal college students. Odd tricks Ulrich into helping out with an art project crisis that may or may not involve the girl Ulrich’s been pining after for a few weeks. AN: Part of my Spooky Snippets story dump. For more details please see this post.

He should have been expecting something wicked from his good buddy Odd Della Robbia.

The two had been thick as thieves after years together at a boarding school, where they started out as simply roommates and peers. Odd was an exuberant, charismatic type that oozed confidence and could work up a snappy comeback to any put-downs quick as a whip. He was known for his art and his music, which certainly helped with his pastime of being a heartbreaker as far too many had a soft spot for the artistic types, but also left a list a mile long of pranks that no student had yet been able to beat. Peering behind the curtain revealed him to be a terror as a roommates though; he was inconsiderate, nosy, messy and a pest. Ulrich was basically the opposite of Odd, what with his stand-offish nature and short fuse, which left the brunette grasping at what to do. Ulrich never seemed very interested in his peers – despite how terribly he would like to have some friends – and his situation with his teammates for soccer and his martial arts club seemed more professional, despite their age. The two were the antithesis of one another.

Part of being roommates, however, was getting adjusted and at least becoming civil with one another.

It started out with them working things out in a system of favor-swaps. In exchange for him staying hushed up about Odd’s dog - smuggled in against the school’s strict policies - he’d let Ulrich call in a favor at a later point. Ulrich had cashed that one in for Odd’s help getting Sissi Delmas, the principal’s daughter and Ulrich’s most adamant of suitors, to get off his back for a date. The trend continued that way through the first full term of the year and then things escalated right before winter break began. Ulrich had a particularly rough argument with his father and Odd had sat there and listened quietly while he spilled his guts about all the dirty details. Ulrich’s father was always hard on him, barking about how poor his grades were and how his athletic accomplishments were his only saving grace, and comparing him to his older sister, honor student socialite that she was. He expected Odd to laugh at his plight or tell he should just listen to his dad, but instead Odd simply empathized with him. “Well, my parents are kinda the opposite of that, so I can’t relate… But that’s gotta be real tough on you,” He had said with what was a hopefully helpful smile.

No one had ever told him that his feelings of frustration and anxiety were valid like that. He lessened up a bit on constantly barking at Odd for not cleaning up after himself – there were still issues with that, but he made an honest effort to not let it get to him as much as before – and he let Odd tag along with him around campus. It was strange, as Ulrich had never been sure what he expected making a friend to be like, but he was grateful that it seemed to be a gradual, comfortable process. It was through Odd he made a few other close friends that he could rely on in his more difficult times.

Odd was still his best friend, despite them both being college freshman and no longer being roommates, and he was glad. They tried to get together at least once a week at one another’s place for video games and pizza, so they could catch up and just hang out. It was during one such hang out session that Odd had asked, with a grin that screamed he knew more than he was letting on, “So, any girls catching your eye, now that we’re out of the pond and milling about a stream?”

He had choked on his soda, sputtering and looking at his blonde friend like he was daft. While his group of friends had grown a bit and he’d become a bit less grumpy, his stance and interest in dating had never wavered in his middle school and high school years. It wasn’t that he was picky or thought he was better than any of the girls that asked him out, but rather that he just never really felt any particular attraction there. The girls were all physically attractive, but they never had many common interests as him and his few relationships never lasted more than a week or two before things got boring and they would mutually agree to a break-up. It wasn’t like he expected his first girlfriend to be his one and only true love but he had at least wanted something that would be more durable than a seven-to-fourteen day shelf life. After his last relationship – his Sophomore year, with a genuinely sweet Junior that lasted just shy of two weeks – he simply stopped going out with anyone when they asked him.

There was a girl he was interested in now, though, despite their limited conversations and interaction. It was a whole new sensation that felt strange because he didn’t know much about her, but knew just enough to know she was way out of his league. He knew that if he asked her out she’d just turn him away so he stayed quiet. He could continue on with their strange little dance, assuring that he at least got to keep whatever it was they currently had until he could be completely content with it and then move on to maybe find someone he had a shot with. He admitted the whole sad situation to Odd with a defeated sigh, trying not to let the reality of if get him too dragged down.

Odd had smiled at him before clapping him on his shoulder. “Hey, you never know, buddy! Maybe fate will intervene and give you two a chance to really connect!” He beamed. Thankfully, he had dropped the conversation after sharing his nugget of optimism and let them fall back into their usual chatter about this or that. It had rubbed Ulrich as a little off, because normally Odd would take information like that and make it his goal to do fate a solid, but he figured that maybe college had mellowed him out a bit; made him realize that he didn’t need to go sticking his nose into everything, perhaps.

About a week later, Odd had asked if he could come in and serve as the model for his art class. He claimed that normally the professor handled getting the models they sketched in class, but that the person originally planned for the day had a family emergency that required them to go out of town for at least two weeks. If someone in the class could find a replacement, the lesson would commence as usual. And if not, then they’d simply take their terminology quiz a week early. And Ulrich agreed, smiling shyly at the huge grin and flurry of compliments Odd showered him with in return.

He follows Odd across campus that Wednesday evening, his friend toting an easel and his impractically large bag of art supplies, Ulrich’s own book bag slung over his shoulder, and listening to his friend’s excited chatter over having him sit in for the class. Wednesday’s were Ulrich’s long days, as he worked from six to noon in the campus café and had three classes between one and six respectively; each one running at about an hour and a half with a ten minute break between them for him to rush to the new classroom and grab a snack. “I think you’re gonna enjoy this, Ulrich! So long as you don’t mind sitting still for about two hours, that is,” Odd says, his grin so strong it could power a lighthouse for a full week.

“So long as you hold true to your promise of food afterwards, I’ll be fine. Energy drinks and granola bars aren’t exactly what I’d call a real meal,” He comments, opening the door and letting Odd walk in first. Most of the students have already arrived and are setting up their supplies, easels set up in a large, wide semi-circle around a slightly raised platform with a table on top pushed in front of the teacher’s podium. Odd scans the room before chuckling in excitement while Ulrich looks toward the front, where the instructor is chatting amicably with another student.

“Ah, perfect! My usual spot is open!” He hums before whistling and waving at someone on the other side of the room. Ulrich follows his gaze and feels himself become a flustered deer-in-headlights, recognizing the girl waving back at Odd immediately. Her name is Yumi Ishiyama and she just so happens to be the girl he has been unable to get out of his mind for the last couple of weeks. She was one of the few members of the Pencak Silat club at the campus and he’d met her through that. They’d talked a few times but mostly they trained together, being the most skilled in the group and being around the same level in skill and technique. She always pins him, though, despite her only coming up to his shoulders. She’s got more muscle than most young women in their age bracket, though, and she’s honed her skills well over the years she’s been practicing the form. Her dedicate and passion for the practice was admirable; especially when she admitted her parents had always thought it was weird and tried to coax her into a different hobby. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that her constantly wiping the floor with him was part of the reason he liked her.

In hindsight, Ulrich should have acknowledged that calculating, mischievous glint in Odd’s eye when he had asked him to do this favor.

Yumi spots him a second after she starts waving and their eyes lock, her own face taking on a similar frantic look. Her hand is frozen mid-wave and the smile falls away completely. Odd grins and leans back, elbowing Ulrich lightly in the side. “Oh, did I forget to mention? She’s my art class pal!” He muses happily, keeping his voice surprisingly quiet.

Ulrich is suddenly thrust back into his proper mind and he wheels his gaze to glare down at Odd, his hands starting to come up. To do what, exactly, he isn’t sure. Maybe strangle the blonde weasel until he pops? That seems like a fair and likely option. “What the Hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me she was in this class with you?” He sputters out through gritted teeth.

Odd holds up one hand at him. “Because you’re a big pansy that wouldn’t have said yes if I told you she was here. So instead I just decided to set you up with a great opportunity! You can talk to her after class!” He beams at him. Ulrich glares at him before shifting back to rest on his heels, planning to dart back out of the room and leave Odd with egg on his face. He’ll have to make up an excuse for later when – or, rather, if – Yumi asks him about his quick retreat at their next Pencak Silat session but he figures he can get that settled out later. Or he could always just stop going to those sessions all together to never have to deal with the embarrassment of having to try and sputter out a lie. Then again, he seems to have underestimated who he’s dealing with, as Odd then turns and eagerly calls, “Excuse me, Professor Salva! Our model for this evening is here!”

The professor – a middle-aged woman in a tie-dye moo-moo with her hair tied back in a frizzy bun – perks up and smiles warmly at Odd. “Ah, wonderful! Please, come over here, darling,” She says, gesturing Ulrich over with one hand. He glares back at Odd, who instead scampers off to his spot, holding his easel behind him like a wooden tortoise shell. Clever, Ulrich has to admit, since he probably would have taken the chance to give the other a less-than-chummy punch to the shoulder if he was exposed.

He heads over and goes through a brief introduction with Professor Salva before she has him set his bag down on the top of her desk and remove his jacket and shirt. Turns out they were working on figure and anatomy, specifically focusing on the body from the waist up. Despite being mortified at sitting in front of a class of his fellow college students shirtless, he figures it’s better than being tricked into being their nude model. She does a quick glance at her attendance sheet and then the classroom before smiling and nodding to herself once he’s finished folding his jacket and shirt up next to his backpack. She leads Ulrich by a gentle hand on his back around her desk and to the center of the class before clapping to get the students attention. He can see Yumi and Odd talking quietly as they set their supplies up but they pause to turn their attention to their instructor with the rest of their peers. “Class, allow me to introduce Ulrich Stern, our model for this evening,” She hums happily.

Polite applause follows her words but cuts to small snickers when Odd – because of course he would, the little shit – wolf-whistles at him. He gets the feeling that Odd is doing it to try and help make Ulrich feel less awkward about his situation, but his friend also knows how he typically responds to embarrassing predicaments, so he might just be playing himself a fun little game of Poke-the-Sleeping-Bear.

Needless to say, he’s cruising for a severe mauling.

She talks about a few other small announcements briefly before having him settle on the small center area, guiding him to sit while leaning back on his hands slightly, making sure he feels he’ll be comfortable for the entirety that he needs to be still. She readjusts him a bit, tilting his head up and to the side a bit so he’s staring at a painting that looks like someone threw pastel paints and glitter in a blender then poured it on a canvas. She explains something about muscle definition to the class but he tunes out and watches Odd and Yumi from his peripheral, his head angled so that he can still see them decently well without moving. They’ve started quietly talking again, too soft to be heard and discreet enough to not be a distraction to their peers. He’s pretty sure that in the whole time since he had looked away from her earlier Yumi hasn’t looked at him once; whether that’s good or bad, he can’t be certain. Odd rolls his eyes at something Yumi says and retorts with something quickly, flapping his hands this way and that as he’s prone to do when he talks.

He keeps his eyes on them most of the time, watching them talk and debating how he’ll handle the situation once everything is said and done. He figures the first step will be to get out without having to face Yumi. There’s no way he can keep it together after being sat in front of her, shirtless, for two hours, while she drew him. He’s barely keeping it together knowing the other students are as well, but the fact that she’s a part of it makes it somehow worse. Next he figures will be to get some form of payback on Odd. He could always tell Odd’s latest squeeze about the time he had drunkenly pissed in a bush that turned out to be poison ivy.

Or he could always start by racking up a huge bill when they get food after class, too.

He gets so lost in his musings that it takes Professor Salva lightly tapping his shoulder to snap him to attention when class ends. While the students start putting away their supplies he hurriedly yanks his shirt back on, tosses his bag over his shoulder, and makes a beeline for the door. He clutches his jacket in his hand, opting against spending time putting his jacket back on when he could spend that time making a speedy getaway.

He opens the door and is met by Patricia “Cia” Delorme, the latest notch in Odd’s bedpost. She comes from an old money family line and has the reserved, cold persona associated with a lot of rich kids. He still doesn’t understand how Odd managed to pique her interest but as he stares at her it dawns on him he really should have seen this set-up coming. Patricia had looks that most girls would have killed for – olive skin and thick brown curls and cloudy grey-blue eyes and an Honest-to-goodness beauty mark at the corner of her left eye for crying out loud – and almost always looked like she was posing already. Pair that with Odd’s tendency to brag when he hooked a catch that was considered impossible for him and it made more sense for her to be his classes’ subject than Ulrich. Odd would have loved showing her off to his peers.

She blinks a few times in surprise at him before letting out a vague sound of amusement, the corner of her lips twitching up like she wants to smile. “Ah, so he actually went through with it, did he? I have to admit, I’m a bit impressed,” She says evenly, though there is a note of mirth to her tone.

Ulrich glares. “You knew what he was planning? Why didn’t you say anything?” He hisses at her lowly.

She shrugs. “To be honest I thought he’d chicken out. Or that you’d see through him. Seems I gave him too little credit and you too much, though,” Her tone is matter-of-fact, eerily similar to the tone his mother uses when he tries to defend himself against his father’s berating, and it makes him flinch. She notices the gesture but her expression remains the same. “Regardless of that, I hope you had fun sitting in for Odd’s turn on rotation.”

“Rotation?” He asks.

“Yeah, that’s how the class works. Each student takes a turn bringing in a subject to model for the class. This week it was Odd’s turn. He told you that much, didn’t he?” Oh, that’s how his good buddy wants to play it.

He’s about to respond when Odd shoves his way past Ulrich into the hallway, throwing one arm over Patricia’s shoulders and tugging her away a bit. “Cia, baby! Did you really come here just to see me? You’re such a sweetheart!” He coos affectionately.

Patricia quirks an eyebrow at Odd. “You told me to meet you here after class to get dinner and a movie,” She says flatly.

Odd simply laughs and starts hurriedly leading her toward the nearby double doors. “Right, right! I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached!”

Ulrich growls and prepares to go after the two and call his friend out on his bull when he hears a quiet, “Excuse me,” from the doorway.

He stumbles away from the door and turns, blinking in surprise to see Yumi standing there, one hand up in a meek wave. He stares for a moment before clearing his throat and uttering a small, “Uh… S-Sorry.”

“For what?” She asks with a half-laugh.

“Standing in the doorway. You probably want to get home,” He says hurriedly, his gaze falling to his jacket in his hands. He never noticed what a nice shade of olive green it was before.

“Oh,” She says, “well, yeah, I guess class is over, huh? But I don’t actually have anywhere to be; don’t have very many friends and my brother already has plans tonight.”

“Hiroki, right?” He asks, recalling her mentioning her younger brother a few times before. They didn’t talk very much about their personal lives in their Pencak Silat sessions, but they had shared a few small stories. She told him about the time Hiroki once stole her diary and gave it to his crush on the school newspaper to try and get brownie points for getting her a juicy story. Ulrich had in turn told her about the time he hid a live frog in his sister’s ballet bag before she left for a recital.

He glances up and sees an impressed grin on her lips. “Huh, I didn’t think you’d remember something like that,” She says lightly. She then shifts, readjusting her supply bag in her shoulder. Hers is much smaller and simpler than Odd’s but it’s the same one she uses for their sparing sessions; a black drawstring bag with a few worn out patches stitched to the bottom.

“I remember a lot of things,” He says, his tone toeing the line between being casual and defensive despite himself. His gaze quickly turns to the ground – counting the scuff marks and splashes of mud on her combat boots – and he hears her chuckle slightly.

“Good to know. Anyway, have you eaten yet?” She asks. He looks up at her slowly and she readjusts her bag again, nodding her head toward the exit. He takes the implication and starts walking with her toward the doors.

“Nah. Originally Odd was going to buy me dinner, but clearly he bailed out. Probably knew I was going to be less than pleased about the whole situation,”

“Hm. He did run off pretty quick. Then again, he said he and his girlfriend had a small fight last night so that might have been part of it,” Yumi comments evenly. Ulrich says nothing about her explanation, despite knowing it was a lie. He and Odd had hung out for a few hours the night before and the other had been gushing about how good things were going between them. And pairing that up with Patricia actually coming to meet up with Odd like he had asked her to seemed to lead credence to his theory of his friend lying to Yumi.

“He tends to do that a lot. Guess I’m on my own for food then,” He shrugs. He glances at her from the corner of his eye to see she’s watching him. He forces himself not to blush from her attention. “Unless… I mean… Did you want to go get something to eat?”

She smiles up at him. “Sure, I’d like that,”

[oltnews]

Today's beauty market is a bottomless virtual repository of palettes, eyebrow pencils, fakes and liners that promise to give our eyes an awake and immaculately tidy appearance. The only non-negotiable item in the eye industry is of course that tiny wand covered with liquid that you use to brush your lashes every morning. It is and will always be the number one love of makeup and the only thing on which your personal stock is based: mascara. So here are the top 35 of all time.Average woman wearing makeup will spend $ 3,770 on mascara during her lifetime, according to a Money video published by People in 2017. And let's face it ... you're not the average woman who wears makeup. If having thick, voluminous, long and perfectly curled eyelashes is a daily priority, you could find yourself paying a small fortune, then you'd better make a profit from these Sephora purchases.No one has to teach you the slightest variations in mascara formulas. You are already familiar with those that are designed to curl, lie down, thicken and not clump or run. But in case you want a little help in eyelash service, you'll find 35 of the most acclaimed mascaras of all time.We only include products that have been independently selected by The Zoe Report editorial team. However, we may receive a portion of the sales if you purchase a product through a link in this article.Too Faced Better Than Sex MascaraAfter amassing more reviews than any other mascara on Sephora (about 15,000, that is, about half of them are five stars), Too Faced's Better Than Sex eyelash enhancer is pretty much the unanimity. The long-lasting, jet black and lump-free formula acquired its own cult afterwards and gave birth to a multitude of dupes. The only negative point? It does not come in softer tones.Take advantage of cosmetics “they are real! Elongating and volumizing mascaraIf Better Than Sex is the all-in-one for mascaras, then this bestseller from Benefit Cosmetics is certainly the second. Tracee Ellis Ross uses it to achieve her "sexy bedroom eye", she says Vogue Beauty Secrets video. "It's the paintbrush," she says.Milk Makeup Kush High Volume MascaraLess than five years after its launch, Milk Makeup has already obtained the status of saint with its Kush collection, whose star ingredient is cannabis seed oil sativa (hemp seeds). This ultra-revitalizing hydrating mascara is the highlight of the range.Lancôme Definicils lengthening and defining mascara Lancôme Definicils mascara is called iconic. It has retained its relevance for decades, even with each launch of revolutionary Kardashian on the Internet. Almost 1,800 people gave it five stars on Nordstrom.Buxom Volumizing Lash MascaraCertified lump resistant and approved for sensitive eyes, Buxom's beloved mascara does not need an extraordinary name or any other bell or whistle to attract people's attention. It has a flexible hourglass brush, the bristles of which tighten each lash's attention. You can go directly to the root without staining.Chanel's Volume MascaraIf you are not wearing a scythe, this is the best thing to do. It comes with a special Snowflakes brush that combines short and long bristles to lift and plump. Dior Diorshow MascaraA recurring winner of CharmAs part of the annual Beauty Awards, Dior Diorshow mascara is so luxurious that it is packaged in a patented pneumatic locking tube that prevents oxygen from entering and drying the formula.It Cosmetics Elastic Superhero Stretch Volumizing MascaraAlmost 4,000 people gave It Cosmetics' best-selling formula five stars on Ulta, including countless who tout it as the best mascara ever. Her ability to lie down like Ms. Incredible is her number one superpower.Essence's Lash Princess false eyelash mascaraFor $ 5, you probably don't need much to convince that the fake Essence mascara is worth it. But if you do, it's the best-selling mascara on Amazon, with over 12,000 five-star ratings.Lancôme Monsieur Big mascaraFor thick, full lashes reaching the sky, Monsieur Big delivers. The youngest of Lancôme Definicils mascara is the answer to all those who have begged the brand to make their iconic formula waterproof.Rolling Lash Curling & Lifting Mascara by Benefit CosmeticsSo, what makes this fan favorite so special, you ask? (Quite special to warrant another mention of Benefit Cosmetics in this list, that is.) Everything is in the Hook 'n' Roll brush, which grabs, lifts, separates and bends at the same time.L'Oréal Paris voluminous mascaraYou see this familiar packaging every time you walk the aisles of makeup at Target, probably because it takes up the most space on the shelf with its range of 12 colors. It was called an imitation of Diorshow, but the many celebrities who openly worship it don't seem to care.ColourPop BFF MascaraOf course not all mascaras are black in the first place and this list of the best deserves a touch of color. ColourPop's unconventional BFF mascara is available in eight shades, including white, coral and cobalt blue in addition to your standard blacks and browns.Urban Decay Perversion MascaraThe Urban Decay Perversion line is a partnership between an ultra-thin eye pen (the key to a sharp cat's eye, many say) and this favorite mascara for make-up artists. The brand attributes its creamy formula to the intense color it provides.Yves Saint Laurent's False Eyelash Effect MascaraThis fake stand-in was the only reason why Demi Lovato didn't look like a raccoon after her heartbreaking performance at the 2020 Grammy Awards, according to Cosmopolitan. And it's not even waterproof.NARS Climax MascaraIt's hard to believe that such a full-bodied eyelash could come from a light feather formula, but NARS Climax mascara is magical like that. It is perhaps the most explosive when combined with the brand's Orgasm Blush.Tarte's Lights, Camera, Lashes Mascara 4 in 1Described by the brand as a push-up bra for your eyelashes, the Tarte's Lights, Camera, Lashes formula has won almost 100,000 loves on Sephora. Critics praise its ease of application and its elongation capacities as well as its star qualities.Maybelline Great Lash Washable MascaraIf there was one of the most iconic mascara ever, Maybelline's Great Lash variety would be. Its lime green and salmon colored tube is easily the most recognizable beauty product in history. Its water-based formula was revolutionary in the 1970s and is still widely revered today.Stila Extreme Lash Extreme mascaraWith words like "huge" and "extreme" literally in the name, you can bet that this mascara will give you the kind of va-va-voom lashes that, at one point, only extensions could provide. The brand describes its rich pigment as "ink-like", but don't be fooled into thinking it is thick and heavy.Pat McGrath Labs FetishEyes MascaraFor serious dramas, like Teresa Giudice, try the peptide-rich FetishEyes from Pat McGrath Labs, the only permanent mascara in the brand's huge makeup line. It goes particularly well with its many palettes and offers optimal fullness with a single layer.CoverGirl LashBlast Volume Waterproof MascaraThe product itself refuses to clump, flake or smear - the holy trinity for any mascara, let alone the one you can find at CVS - and the coveted fan effect created by its barrel brush makes this CoverGirl gem worth much more than what it actually sells for.Thrive Causemetics Liquid Eyelash Extensions MascaraOn the mascara scene, Thrive Causemetics' liquid eyelash extensions became an instant Instagram sensation when it launched in 2018. Best of all, the brand donates a portion of each purchase to victims of domestic violence.Volume mascara by Kevyn AucoinIf chemical-containing mascaras drop your eyelashes, this is the one for you. Comprising of ultra-nourishing jojoba oil and an integrated primer, Kevyn Aucoin Volumizing mascara is approved for sensitive eyes.Honest Beauty's Extreme Length Mascara + Lash PrimerIf she gets approval from Jessica Alba's own beauty, then you know it must be really squeaky. This two-in-one mascara also serves as an eyelash primer, and it's about time you started using one. Glossier's eyelash stickA fiber mascara is made of microscopic fibers like nylon and silk that stick to your lashes and make them appear fuller. Glossier is highly qualified in this variety and although not technically waterproof, his eyelash stick is stain resistant enough to support emotional therapy sessions, according to one reviewer.Maybelline Volum 'Express Colossal Big ShotSome mascaras simply do not live up to their waterproof name. This pharmacy gem is different. Trust famous peloton instructor Emma Lovewell, who said to The Cut it "never runs".Full Fat Lashes Mascara by Charlotte TilburyCharlotte Tilbury once said Charm that she "used to cocktail up to five mascaras" to get the volume, the length, the curl, the separation and the drama she wanted. This is why the makeup artist designed her Full Fat Lashes mascara: it's a one-stop shop.Wander Beauty Mile High Club Volume & Length MascaraAnother beginner, Wander Beauty's Mile High Club mascara is different because A) it is an innovative packaging resembling a lip gloss and B) the fact that it can do eight things: lift, volumize, lengthen, strengthen , feed, etc. He has won numerous beauty awards in 2019.NYX Professional Makeup Worth The Hype MascaraWhat makes this mascara worthy of its eponymous hype is that it is thin enough (and lump resistant) to apply layer after layer, because who on earth stops after a single layer?Tom Ford Extreme Eye Bad Ass MascaraMadness, yes, but Tom Ford's new Extreme Eye Bad Ass mascara is already gaining major traction, mainly for its wand. The hairs are shorter than normal and more spread out, giving you access to places that are more difficult to reach.L'Oréal Paris Double Extend eyelash extension mascaraYou get nourishing and elongated mascaras, but this two-in-one wonder does both (and it really delivers). Both sides allow you to focus on one task at a time.Giorgio Armani Beauty Eyes To Kill MascaraNo fake? No hair curler? No problem if you have this multitasking mascara handy. In fact, this is the one Kendall Jenner swears by (so it must be damn good).Velvet Noir Major Volume Mascara by Marc Jacobs BeautyThose who weren't blessed by the eyelash gods may not have much to work with, but that's okay, according to this consistent high-end (which has more than 65,000 loves on Sephora) . After a coat, no one will even know how bad your eyelash line is.Premiere at Vivienne Sabó's cabaretIn the midst of your usual pharmacy classics, this quirky French formula is a reference in the best range of Amazon, with almost as much opinion as (and a better overall rating than) LashBlast Volume mascara by CoverGirl.Damn Girl from Too Faced! 24 hour mascaraMany would argue that nothing could surpass Too Faced's Better Than Sex mascara - not even another version of the same brand - but Damn Girl! just shouldn't be compared to her returning queen sister as the two couldn't be more different. The creamy foam gives an ink finish that lasts 24 hours, in case you want to wear it that long. https://oltnews.com/the-35-best-mascaras-of-all-time-from-pharmacy-classics-to-celebrity-favorites-the-zoe-report?_unique_id=5e9d12fec4f25

[nicolasospina]

World Cup Madness

Why I chose the World Cup

           Every 4 years, the world comes together and celebrates the beautiful game. It is a month of wild emotions ranging from pure joy to utter heartbreak all for the honor of holding up the golden trophy.

           Ever since I was a child, the world cup is celebrated in my family as a unification of every Colombian in the world cheering for a common goal, to reign victorious over any team that faces against us.  My dad has instilled in my siblings and I with a love and passion for soccer that surpasses the common notion that soccer is just a sport. It is a way of life.

           The World Cup always finds a way into my conversation at least once a day during that amazing month, for some reason it lets me share a common interest with someone that I normally I might not talk to. I have had random people call me out on the street and want to talk to me just because I have a Colombia jersey or any of my other jersey’s on and want to see if they can watch the game with me; under any other circumstance that would be an awkward encounter, but during the world cup it seem normal and actually quite unifying.  

           Colombia is not the only team I cheer for, I always like to see any Latin country win because I feel like I share an unspoken bond between them. I love to see Argentina, Brazil and will always root for Peru because the vast amount of my friends are Peruvian and seeing them happy makes me happy too. When it comes to game time though, no one is more important than my home country. I will die a happy man with a jersey in my casket that has my colors wrapped around me.

          Watching the world cup here in Gainesville has given me to realize that a lot of Americans do not care for the world cup which is baffling to me. They don’t even know that it’s happening or do not care for it. I have tried to teach my roommates to watch the games with me, but they don’t seem so interested as I am.        

         This year in particular has been unique to me as well because this is the first time my entire family is separated, my parents are in Russia cheering on Colombia, my brother is back home in South Florida and my sister is Washington D.C working. It has been difficult because I love watching these games with my family, but I know that no matter where they are in the world, they carry the Ospina spirit for the love of the game.

History of the World Cup

         The first competition for the cup was organized in 1930 by the Fédération International deFootball Association (FIFA) and was won byUruguay.  

          Held every four years since that time, except duringWorld War II, the competition consists of international sectional tournaments leading to a final elimination event made up of 32 national teams.

          Unlike Olympic football,World Cup teams are not limited to players of a certain age or amateur status, so the competition serves more nearly as a contest between the world’s best players.  

     The first ever World Cup was held in Uruguay in 1930 to mark the country's centennial. And the host nation went and won it, defeating rival Argentina 4-2.

      This year the World Cup will be held in Russia, it is spread over 1,800 miles from the exclave of Kaliningrad on the coast of the Baltic Sea to Ekaterinburg and at the base of the Ural Mountains.

      The largest venue is also one of the newest - with the 81,000-capacity Luzhniki Stadium only reopened in 2018 on the site of the old ground in Moscow.

      The first game will be held on the 14thJune and the final is on the 14thof July. The final will most likely be the most viewed televised event in history due to the vast amount of abilities of watching the final compared to prior years.

Image From: https://www.bbc.com/sport/football/41586162

Sources:

https://www.fifa.com/about-fifa/who-we-are/history/first-fifa-world-cup.html

https://www.fifa.com/fifa-tournaments/archive/worldcup/index.html

Top Teams of the world cup

Brazil

     This has been the best team in World Cup qualifying and just dominated the most challenging region. With Neymar, Gabriel Jesus and veterans at the back, Brazil is back and looking as strong as it's been in quite a while.

     In the history of World Cup football, Brazilhas been participating in all the editions, the only team that did so. Holding five titles, it is also the most successful country in soccer.

Germany

     They are the reigning champs. Loaded with talent but maybe not as good as the 2014 World Cup team, they still have what it takes to win the cup, and this could be the coming out party for striker Timo Werner. Germany is Germany. They've made the quarterfinals every year since the 1982 World Cup, making at least the semis in the last four, finishing second in 2002, third in 2006 and 2010 and winning the 2014 World Cup in Brazil.

France

     Nothing will compare to the magic of the 1998 team, but this French team is up there with the best in the world and is absolutely stacked in attack. With Kylian Mbappe, Antoine Griezmann, and more, scoring goals shouldn't be a problem. If the defense can find consistency and a centerback pairing that can show unity, watch out.

Spain

     Spain is back and better than ever after that horrific display in Brazil, Diego Costa, Iago Aspas and Rodrigo have starred for their clubs and have made big impacts with the national team as of late, giving Julen Lopetegui, the coach, some flexibility. It's always all about the midfield in Spain, and Isco's emergence at Real Madrid has been a great sign.

Portugal

     This team won Euro 2016, but they were only in the knockout stage due to that ridiculous cup expansion that resulted in some third-place teams advancing. With Cristiano Ronaldo you always have a chance, but this team is no "favorite" to win. Pepe is getting up there and the central defense has some questions, so there probably isn't enough there to win it.

Sources: 

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/world-cup/2018/06/13/world-cup-rankings-looks-good-ahead-kick-off-russia/

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/11/sports/world-cup-groups.html

Best Players

10. Antoine Griezmann from France

     He is fast and fun and a deadly finisher, he was also the top scorer at Euro 2016. He plays much bigger than he stands on the field. Surrounded by young, fast, attacking talent, it will be Griezmann who leads the attack.

9. N’Golo Kante from France

     The best defensive midfielder in the world without question and very crucial to France’s hopes of winning the title.

8. Paulo Dybala from Argentina

     Coming off a pair of big breakout seasons, he is Argentina’s great hope for the future.

7. Toni Kroos from Germany

     The heartbeat of the team for the defending champion and at 28, continues to get even sharper.

6. Luka Modric from Croatia

      A Real Madrid Superstar who even recently hinted he’d like to end his career in MLS. If he came now, he would be a sensation parallel to no other.

5. Neymar from Brazil

     Brazil’s attacking genius is probably the most famous person in his country, added pressure that perhaps hindered him in their last World Cup, held in Rio, in which they were eliminated in embarrassing fashion when they lost to Germany, 7-1, in the semifinal. Neymar is back and wants a trophy to prove he is the best in the world.

4. Kevin De Bruyne from Belgium

     A master organizer and creator, there may be no smarter player on the planet. He has created a near unbeatable season with Manchester City and is one of the best Midfielders on the planet, he is a unstoppable force with the ball near his feet.

3. Mohamed Salah from Egypt

     The man who may finally crack the top-two world domination of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, Salah just put together one of the finest club seasons ever, leading Liverpool to aChampions League final appearance. He did suffer a shoulder injury in that final, however, and it was in question to whether he would be at full strength, but he came to play with heart against Uruguay.

2. Lionel Messi from Argentina

     Unstoppable for most opponents, but still waiting for an elusive major trophy with Argentina.

     Messi isn’t just a brilliant player for Barcelona and Argentina, he’s possibly the best to ever play, period. But Argentina’s inability to win a major international tournament has some fans questioning if he needs a win this World Cup to cement his legacy.

Image From: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-44512589

1. Cristiano Ronaldo from Portugal

     Portugal’s dazzling star would probably be famous for his face alone, even if he weren’t right there as one of the best to play the game … ever. Portugal won a Euro tournament and is looking to come together extremely well around their star, too.

Image From: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-5854267/Cristiano-Ronaldo-eclipsing-Diego-Maradona-Pele-Lionel-Messi.html

Sources:

https://www.sportskeeda.com/football/10-players-to-look-out-for-in-the-world-cup-2018

https://www.vox.com/world/2018/6/12/17424948/2018-world-cup-messi-ronaldo-neymar-salah-players

https://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/soccer/worldcup/2018/05/29/fifa-world-cup-greatest-players-never-win/605646002/

VAR Controversey

     Former Socceroos midfielder Craig Foster has lashed out at the controversial VAR decision that proved the difference in Australia’s World Cup loss to France. With the game tied at 0-0, France striker Antoine Griezmann went down in the box following a challenge from Josh Risdon and was waved off by match referee Andres Cunha.

     However, just a few minutes later the VAR review ruled a penalty against the Australians which Griezmann duly converted. The controversial refereeing tool, utilized in the World Cup this year for the first time, had not really been needed in any of the first two days of action, but came to the forefront of proceedings in the opening Group C clash.

     The role of the VAR is to assist the referee to determine whether there was an infringement that means a goal should not be awarded. As the ball has crossed the line, play is interrupted so there is no direct impact on the game.

     The role of the VAR is also to ensure that no clearly wrong decisions are made in conjunction with the award or non-award of a penalty kick and to ensure that no clearly wrong decisions are made in conjunction with sending off or not sending off a player.

     Many purists have been adamantly against the use of VAR because it for them it ruins the flow of the game and stops the purity of the sport that before had calls that were wrong and was just part of the way of the game, people got over it.  However, others are fully in favor of the ref’s judgement call, and of the use of VAR as a whole at this tournament.

Image from; http://www.skysports.com/football/news/12098/11268754/var-backed-for-use-at-world-cup-by-fifa-president-gianni-infantino

Sources:

https://www.theguardian.com/football/gallery/2018/jun/16/world-cup-2018-france-deny-australia-amid-var-controversy-in-pictures

http://www.skysports.com/football/news/12098/11406778/australia-coach-bert-van-marwijk-unhappy-at-var-controversy-in-defeat-to-france

https://inews.co.uk/sport/football/world-cup/france-v-australia-var-griezmann-penalty-decision-world-cup/