#i kept writing this in like 10 minute spurts in between working

[phaltu]

hi i have one (1) request prekerb sheith seven minutes in heaven this trope is my guilty pleasure pls and thanks xxx

HEY…. ofc, I willl write anything for you. You can literally msg me telling me to write a slow burn enemies with benefits to lovers AU where they are competitive snail racers and I will be like yes of course right away. anyways here you go and good luck on finals xoxox

(RATED T)

“ID please,” Matt sticks his hand out, and Keith snorts as he shoves past him and into the house. “Hey! I’m serious.”

He’s not, because he’s the reason Keith’s shown up to this godforsaken house party in the first place. Father and Mother Holt have gone on vacation this weekend, and the house is close enough to the Galaxy Garrison that Matt’s trying his hardest to up his cool points by inviting the entire student population over. Matt told Keith attendance was mandatory, otherwise he would pick on Keith for the next ten general physics tutorials.

“Thanks for the invite,” Keith says, looking around. He knows a lot of the crowd here, but there are only two people he really talks to outside of the Garrison, and one of them is trying to herd him down the hall. Keith can’t catch a sight of the other one, no matter how much he tries to subtly scan the crowd for someone tall and familiar.

“Looking for someone?” Matt says a little too loudly, and claps Keith’s back a little too hard.

“I’m hungry,” Keith says and Matt laughs like Keith’s made a joke. Matt laughs at a lot of things though, most of the time when he shouldn’t, so Keith lets it slide.

Keith eventually makes it to the kitchen and loses Matt along the way. In the process, a girl who he lent a pencil to at the beginning of the year presses a bottle of Corona into his hands. He also manages unearth a box of pizza pockets from the freezer. Three minutes later, Keith has all he needs to survive the party for the mandatory twenty minutes before he sneaks out and heads back home.

He’s in the middle of shoving the third out of four pizza pockets into his mouth, when someone reaches for the last one.

“Hey,” he barks, grabbing the thief’s wrist. “Mine.”

“My bad,” The someone twists his hand out of Keith’s grasp, giving Keith an all too familiar crooked grin and a wink.

Keith is completely used to his brain electrocuting itself every time he has to look at one Takashi Shirogane for more than ten seconds at a time, but that’s at the Garrison when they’re in uniform, or at the gym where Shiro likes to put Keith in his place regularly, or in the library, where Shiro sacrifices his free time to make sure Keith’s acing his classes or—

Essentially, Keith is used to his brain fritzing out in Shiro’s presence, except for when he’s faced with something even slightly new. He’s seen Shiro in this same white t-shirt before, but it hung loose on him last time, and Shiro normally tucks his dog tags in, doesn’t leave them hanging out and oh god Keith’s only been here for a total of eight minutes.

“Oh, it’s you,” Keith says as his brain keeps expositing. “Nah, you can have some.”

“I’m honoured,” Shiro says, picking up the pizza pocket and taking a bite. “Hey, give me a sip.”

Keith passes his bottle to Shiro, who takes a big gulp of his beer before dumping it down the sink.

“Dude,” Keith whines as Shiro places the empty bottle neatly beside the sink. Keith figures it’s less because Keith’s not twenty one yet, and more because earlier on in the day Keith snarked Shiro in the hearing vicinity of Iverson.

“Not for another two and a half years,” Shiro scolds and Keith flips him off. Shiro pinches the tip of Keith’s middle finger and starts bending it back. “Understood, cadet?”

“You’re so fucking lame,” Keith bites through both the pain and the need to tell Shiro to never refer to him as anything else ever again.

Shiro lets Keith go with a laugh, and Keith shoves him back for good measure. Shiro pretends it hurts a lot more than it actually does, and Keith stalks away in a fake angry huff. He looks over to glare at Shiro, but someone else has already commandeered his attention. Keith deflates a little further when he realizes he’s left his half eaten pizza pocket on the counter, but decides to leave it.

Keith doesn’t go home immediately. He really wishes he had though.

After he left the kitchen, Keith had run into a group of people from one of his physical conditioning classes with whom he got along with fairly well with. His first mistake was that he hung out with them for forty minutes, having a fairly decent time till the conversation had died down and they all drifted away to different parts of the house. Keith had decided to locate Matt and tell him that he was going home, and that Matt couldn’t ask Keith to do anything for a week. That was his second mistake.

If Keith’s being honest with himself, he actually wanted to find Shiro first so he could hang out with him, but Shiro was lost in the crowd and Keith’s not the biggest fan of looking desperate.

Keith had shifted through groups of people, knocked on a couple of doors, and had been ready to just dip without a word when he heard a familiar braying laugh from downstairs. It was followed by an even more familiar chuckle, and Keith’s third mistake of the night was to let his feet automatically take him to the source of the sound.

Now, Keith’s watching as one drunk person stumbles out of the cold storage room and another person stumbles in.

“I don’t get it,” he says, and Shiro opens his mouth to explain the rules for the fourth time. “Shut up, no, I get it. I don’t get why it’s fun though.”

“What’s not fun about making out with people?” Matt pipes up from the other side of Keith. Keith and Shiro are squished onto a love seat, with Matt sprawled half on the arm and half on the top of the seat.

“Being the person waiting outside,” Keith supplies. There’s a circle of people around a twister board, chattering while the two people in the cold storage kiss or talk or whatever people do when they’re trapped in a closet for seven minutes. “I didn’t know people still played this.”

“It would have been Twister,” Matt replies, flicking the back of Keith’s head. “But Katie used the mat as a tarp for a project and set it on fire.”

“Fantastic,” Keith says dryly, as a smirking girl steps out of the closet. “I’m going to leave now.”

“Me too,” Shiro says, and Keith immediately thinks to ask Shiro if he wants to go back to the Garrison together.

“Nah,” Matt says, planting a hand on each of their shoulders and pulling them back down. He slides off a little from where he’s sprawled, and is wedged horizontally in between the two of them and the cushions. “Yo! Spin!”

Keith winces at how loud Matt calls it out, but stays put as the black hand spins. They’ve been playing one in, one out, so whoever lands this turn has to replace the person who landed it the one before the last turn. Matt claims it’s so that everyone can get a variety of experiences, and because everyone in this room is a dumbass, they have accepted it as the rules of the game.

He waits for the tk tk tk to stop so he can get up and walk Shiro back then go back to his room and contemplate his stupid crush and jerk—

“Nice,” Matt says and Keith thinks he feels Shiro go a little rigid beside him.

“That’s not pointing at me,” Keith says but Matt’s already shoving him off the sofa.

“I’m not kissing you,” is the first thing the guy waiting inside the storage says to Keith.

Keith doesn’t really care about the rejection, just cares about the weird look Shiro had on his face when Matt put his foot to Keith’s ass and pushed him into the closet. Keith wants to think about it, but feels like he’ll do it too loudly. He’s not sure if he wants to expose himself like that in front of this stranger.

“Cool,” Keith says, digging his hands into his pockets.

“I didn’t kiss the last person either,” Keith thinks the boy is trying to sound comforting, but he genuinely doesn’t care. “I gave her the answer key to our next quiz though.”

Wait.

“What?” Keith asks, and the other guy pulls out his phone.

Turns out they’re in the same class, one that has notoriously difficult tests that probably are less of an indicator of intelligence and more of a way for the teacher to posture. This guy, who now Keith feels marginally bad for not remembering, has somehow acquired all five variations of their upcoming quiz.

Keith’s not one to cheat, ever at all. But the last test he got back, he nearly failed because of the fact that his pen ink had started to fade and the teacher didn’t like faint, yet clearly visible lines. The amount of time he had spent appealing the mark was too large for him to never get back.

The guy is not going to send it to Keith, but Keith’s allowed to look at it, take notes, and commit as much of it to memory as possible.

Now he knows why the last girl who left the closet looked so satisfied.

Matt knocks on the door for the tenth time.

“One more minute,” Keith calls out because he’s trying to skim through the last variation.

The door-knob rattles and turns. Matt peeps his head in.

“I’m obligated to tell you under threat of death - ok out of respect to the rules, geez -  that you’re approaching the fifteen minute mark and—oh, you’re not making out?”

Matt uses this as a cue to invite himself into the cold storage, and Keith immediately shoves the phone back into the other guys hand, who pockets it immediately. “Show me what you were doing, nerds.”

“Playing a game,” Keith lies and Matt raises an eyebrow.

“So you weren’t making out?” He asks and Keith shakes his head while the other guy goes “Ew, no.”

Matt taps a finger to his lips before reaching forward and ruffling Keith’s hair.

“Lick your lips,” Matt says and Keith frowns but automatically follows. “Great. You too.”

They both give Matt a confused look, and he reaches forward and pinches both their mouths shut. Hard.

Keith yelps, but the other guy straight up squeals. Matt hums and holds them in place while they flail, letting them go after an excruciating fifteen seconds have passed.

“Perfect,” he says and before anything else comes out of his mouth, the door-knob twists again and the door swings open.

“Hey,” Shiro’s got a smile on that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Got stuck in here?”

“Had to pull them apart,” Matt says sweetly, and barely lets out a sound when Keith kicks him in the shin.

“Who’s next?” asks Other Guy.

“Me,” Shiro says firmly, and Keith freezes. He’s glad this room only has a dim, half-watt lightbulb because otherwise everyone would immediately see the panic written across his face.

“Amazing,” Matt says, and turns to the other guy. “Scram.”

Other Guy high-tails it out, side stepping Shiro while throwing a wide eyed look back at Keith. Maybe Keith’s a little more visible than he previously thought.

“I’ll see myself out,” Matt says, and squeezes through between the door and Shiro. Shiro nods at him before closing the door behind him.

Keith’s not quite sure what he’s expected.

It’s quite possible that he expected to have Shiro asking him if he has an interest in the other guy, or what Keith had for lunch, if Keith saw Montgomery’s giant forehead zit, or if Keith used his study guide for his last time, and did it help?

He’s not expecting to get crowded against the shelves, Shiro’s hands on his shoulders, guiding him back. He hits the wooden planks with a soft thud, and feels them dig into his back.

“Hello,” he says, having to now tilt his head to look up at Shiro in the low light.

“Hi,” Shiro says, leaning in. “How are you?”

“Pretty okay,” Keith says, forcing himself not to give an awkward grin. Apparently it’s scarier than him blank-facing someone. “Decent evening so far.”

“Yeah?” There’s a small edge to Shiro’s voice, and Keith has a hard time remaining focused. “Let me try and make it better?”

Before Keith can process his mouth moving, he blurts out a “Yeah.”

The signs in the situation were clearly pointing one way, but Keith’s heart still threatens to leap out of his chest once Shiro kisses Keith.

There are about fifty different air horns blaring in Keith’s head that only intensify once Shiro presses their bodies closer together. Keith feels the pressure on his mouth lighten and almost ease off completely before he realizes that kissing back is a thing.

In a panic, he grabs Shiro by the dog tags and pulls him closer.

He feels a hand around his ribcage, feels it skim down and rest on his hip before squeezing. He’s running out of air, so he gasps a little into Shiro’s mouth and the kiss kicks up a notch. Keith can’t believe this is his life, and clings on to Shiro. If this is really just a fever dream or an induced hallucination, Keith is going to milk it for all that he can.

“Woah,” Keith says, a little dizzy as they break apart for air. “Woah.”

“I, uh-“ Shiro starts and stops. Shiro only looks at Keith’s mouth, and Keith doesn’t know if he wants to gain access to what Shiro is thinking right at this moment, or if he wants Shiro to continue putting both his lips and his hands on him. Only one of these options is realistic; Keith cannot believe he exists in a world where it’s the latter.

“I wonder how much time we have left,” Keith says faintly, and Shiro shakes his head. “Whoever gets you next is gonna be lucky, huh?”

“What?” Shiro frowns, but before he can say anything else, Keith’s leaning up to kiss him. Now that kissing Shiro has been introduced into his library, Keith feels like he’s moving on autopilot and the yelling in his head at finally getting to first base with his crush has dulled down by a fraction.

He can feel a moment’s hesitation before Shiro’s hands travel down and grab his thighs, hiking him up against the shelves. The soup cans rattle with the force, and the planks press hard lines against Keith’s back as he automatically wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist. In the distance, he can hear a muffled “ewwwww” from Matt on the other side of the door, but Shiro quickly occupies him enough for him to not care about it.

It takes a full twenty minutes for Matt to meekly knock on the door.

“Guys, uh,” Matt says tentatively. “No one’s playing anymore. Game’s over so uh. Any time you feel like it, come out.”

For the past ten minutes, Keith and Shiro have been sitting on the floor, arguing whether paintballing or sneaking out on Keith’s hoverbike will make for a better official First Date. They stopped making out partly due to the fact that Keith does not actually want to get it on in Matt Holt’s cold storage, and partly due to the fact that Shiro calmed down considerably once learning that Keith and Other Guy were just talking about a vague school topic. 

Because Matt deserves to be fucked with, Keith just bangs the shelf with his fist a couple of times before he can practically hear the exasperation in Matt’s receding footsteps.

Read it on AO3

[helliontherapscallion]

Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone. 

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look. 

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly. 

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back. 

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave. 

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts. 

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red. 

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks. 

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment. 

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own. 

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster. 

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno. 

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door.  You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers. 

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better. 

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully. 

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you. 

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day. 

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent. 

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!” 

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon. 

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster. 

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @mosstea-png  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya  @kusuinko  @kiinokochii  @cheybaee  @dulcedippers  @jaciahbabes

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 41

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.6k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: hope the smut isnt too much lol! oh and, couldnt find the gif i wanted but this one will do. this chapter was fun to write and i dont think it was a filler chapter lol! only a few chapters left, im super nervous! at the same time, this story is getting less and less popular sooo idk, maybe its time? idk. if you read and comment and like and reblog, I LOVE YOU!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : posting them at the bottom because of spoilers!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 41 : His chapter

NIALL

May 15th, 2018

I was so close to ask her to marry me when we were in Spain. I kept looking at her ring finger, imagining what the ring I had bought would look on her hand, and telling myself that now that we were official, anything was possible, and I wanted it. I wanted the impossible, I wanted everything. The words "marry me" almost escaped my lips exactly 11 times and even now, I was wondering how I actually stopped myself from just doing it.

We were back in California for a few days and I had convinced her to spend her time in my house instead to go back to hers. Most likely, Louis was there with Eleanor or he was spending all his time at her place. Either way, I thought we were better at my house but I knew that eventually, she'd want to see Louis and get back in her stuff anyway.

I woke up and blinked a few times as the sun peeked through the curtains but not enough to light the room. It was dark but I could see clearly and when I turned around, I realized she was laying on her back, completely naked, and the covers were only hiding one of he legs. She was still asleep, her hair messy around her head, and I couldn't help but reach for my cock as my eyes roamed on her. I got on my knees gently, making sure I wouldn't make the mattress move too much, and let one of my hands run on her breasts while I grabbed my dick with the other, stroking it slowly. I rubbed my thumb on one of her nipples until it got hard and finally, I let my fingertips brush down her body to reach between her legs, her skin so soft against mine. Slowly, I moved one of her knees before letting two of my fingers run on her slit. The more I was touching her, the harder I was getting and I moved closer to her on my knees just to rub the tip of my cock on her nipple.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered before she moved lightly in her sleep, letting out a low whimper.

I stopped moving and waited until she did too to continue touching her, my heart skipping a beat. The sensation was incredible and it made me want to rub my dick all over her body. I turned my body slightly and reached for her lips with my dick this time, feeling myself get even hornier when she licked her lips. It brushed on the tip of my cock and I let out a low groan as my eyes fluttered. I knew the whole thing was turning me on more than it should and all I could think about was getting between her legs and pushing my cock deep inside her.

Instead, I reached for her pussy again, rubbing one of my fingers gently on her clit as I felt her get wetter. Her body jerked a bit and she moaned low again before I let out an other curse word and slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out of her extremely slowly. I could hear how wet she was and I felt my cock throb in my hand. I was so turned on by her that I could barely believe I was doing that but she was so gorgeous, laying there completely naked in my white sheets, and the way she made me hard was just un-fucking-believable. I finally moved between her legs very slowly only to rub the tip of my dick on her clit. It slid easily due to how wet she was from me fingering her and this time, she let out a louder moan as one of her legs twitched. I jerked off harder between her legs as I pushed my thumb inside of her and rubbed her clit harder with one of my fingers until I was closer to an orgasm and without thinking, I took my hand away and pushed the tip of my cock inside her. Her walls pressed around it and I knew she was waking up. I took my cock out as I felt an orgasm reach me, cumming a bit inside of her before spurting on her pussy.

"Holy fuck."

I let out a moan as I watched her pussy get covered with my cum and when I looked up, her lips were parted and she was staring at me.

"Did you just cum all over me?" she asked in a low tone, her eyebrows raised.

"I.. did. I'm sorry."

Her eyes fell on my still hard cock as I shook it slightly and she bit her bottom lip before spreading her legs apart more and reaching for her pussy. I looked at her fingers gather some of my cum and slide it down until her clit. She let out a louder whimper as she started rubbing herself with the vestige of my orgasm and I couldn't help but let out an other curse word.

"You should have woken me up." she pointed, her voice a mix of a whimper and a whisper.

"I know petal but you looked so vulnerable and hot just laying there, naked and asleep." I admitted, my eyes never leaving her fingers as she flicked them on her clit. "Fuck, you love rubbing your clit with my sperm?"

I didn't know if it was my words or just the fact that she was touching herself but she let out an other moan and her back arched suddenly. I brought one of my hands closer and once again pushed two of my fingers inside her as she kept touching herself and squirming on the bed.

"I want to watch you cum, darling."

It only took her about half a minute before she started shaking and when my named escaped her lips, I could swear I got dizzy and my vision got blurred for a few seconds.

"Oh fuck, Niall!"

Something stirred in my stomach and I just stared at her as she came, grinding on my fingers and squirming even more. When she came down from her high and relaxed on the mattress, I took my fingers out and slowly lied down over her. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted as she panted. I brushed my mouth against hers and she whimpered as I felt my whole body vibrate.

"You did so well, petal. That was so fucking hot."

She brought her hands to my head, slipping her fingers in my hair, before kissing me deeply. I tilted my head slightly, tasting her as she whimpered in my mouth. I swallowed her moans and when i pulled away to look in her eyes, she sighed low.

"I don't want to go to work today." she admitted, raising her nose up and making an amused smile appear on my lips.

"You have to."

"I could call in sick?" she asked, her eyebrows raised and her face full of hope.

I laughed and shook my head, making her groan immediately. "Nope, you have to go. I'll go with you, how's that?"

"Better than nothing I guess."

I chuckled and got up, searching through my stuff to find clean clothes and when I glanced at her, my lips curled again.

"Stop staring at me and get ready. I'll make coffee and we can leave." The alarm on her phone started ringing as soon as I finished my sentence and I raised my eyebrows. "See? You have to wake up. Take a shower, I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

I heard her groan and turned around when I heard a sound only to realize she had tried throwing a pillow at me but had failed miserably. I laughed and shook my head but turned back around and reached the kitchen.

We ate toasts quickly as we walked to the car and remained silent the whole ride until we were there. We should both have gotten out of the car, I knew it, but instead, we remained sitting there, looking in front of us, and I kept wondering how we should act together. We were never the type to show too much affection in public. It happened before with friends around, or family sometimes, but not when random strangers could see. This time, we were with a lot of strangers and I was wondering if I should hold her hand or not. Should I kiss her temple sometimes? Or just go straight for the mouth? I didn't know anymore and if I wanted to be frank, I had never asked myself that question in any other relationships before.

"Ready?"

"No."

I frowned and turned to her but it took her a few seconds to look back at me. She sighed and shrugged before shaking her head a bit.

"Things have been particularly awkward with Dylan even since Heidi posted all those lyrics about us on instagram." she admitted, closing her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again. "We're filming the season's finale today and, I don't know, I'm nervous I guess."

"Anything special about the final episode?"

She stared at me, her eyes roaming on my face, and her lips parted. "His character is breaking up with my character."

We looked at each other in silence and after a while, I reached for her hand on her thigh and squeezed her fingers tight. I knew why it made her feel like this and I knew it was not only because of her relationship with Dylan being awkward. This scene was our scene. It was that day I broke up with her and tore her heart in pieces. I held my breath, feeling suddenly extremely exposed. I had no really realized before how big this was. Of course, I knew her tv show was inspired by our story but it just hit me that people were actually watching it, and I was wondering how many of them now knew almost exactly what had happened between us?

"I'm here with you. It'll go amazingly, trust me." I pointed out, knowing it was not the right time to have a big discussion about her writing. "Remember in Italy? I almost believed you were breaking up with me to go marry your ex boyfriend."

She chuckled a bit. "You totally believed it."

"Maybe I did." I quickly replied. "But only for a few minutes, because I believe in us, I believe in our love, and I believe in you. So you go in there and play that scene and show them how incredible you are."

Her lips curled a bit and she rolled her eyes before finally nodding. I smiled more and we got out of the car to walk in. I thought I'd see Dylan first but when my eyes met Heidi's, I felt my heart jump up in my throat, almost throwing it up. I felt Olivia tense next to me and I held my breath when she saw us. She sent us a big smile but I could read so much pettiness behind it that it made me grimace.

"Hi!"

I glanced at Olivia who frowned and licked her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh you didn't know?" Heidi replied, her eyebrows raised and her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I'm with Dylan now."

As if on cue, he appeared and stood next to Heidi but I noticed his eyes never left my girlfriend and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. Of course, I couldn't expect him to just forget about her, after all, he was ready to marry her, but at the same time I wanted him to move on as quickly as he could. If that was to be done with Heidi then be it : i was ready to put up with her on the set.

"I hope it doesn't bother you too much." Heidi added, tilting her head and looking at Liv who sent her a smile back.

Dylan and I were just keeping quiet, not really sure what we were supposed to say or do, and I pushed both my hands in my pockets.

"Oh no, not at all. It's all good." Olivia replied with a shrug. "I mean, it's not the first time you run after one of my exes, you know? Oh! Maybe I could make you a list of all the men and women I dated? Would save you some time."

I almost choked on my own spit, not really expecting that reply. I knew what kind of person my girlfriend was but she had always played it low with Heidi because she knew it was not worth it. It seemed like this time, she had had enough.

I thought Heidi would answer something rude but instead, her facial expression changed into a surprised one and finally, her eyes got smaller. She was pissed, I knew it, but she'd never prove it to Olivia. She found her smile back and breathed in, wrapping her arm around Dylan's and looking up at him.

"Can you show me the set?"

He nodded and they left but he glanced back at us when he was farther and I finally sighed, turning to my girlfriend who was smiling. I thought she'd be a bit mad, or upset that her ex boyfriend was now with my ex girlfriend, but she didn't seem to care... until her smile fell down and she closed her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong suddenly?" I asked with a frown, taking a step closer and wrapping my fingers around her arm.

"I just realized Heidi was going to be there for the finale." she admitted, looking up at me. "She'll... see all of it. She'll see how it went... between... us."

It was the very first time Olivia admitted that her tv show was about us and I licked my lips, feeling something stir in my stomach. I didn't care that Heidi saw it, but I cared that the whole world would.

"You shouldn't care about her. She's with Dylan just to get to you or get back at us. She's here to piss you off and make you feel like shit. Don't let it get to you. Don't let her win."

She turned her whole body my way and her lips curled slightly into a fond smile. Slowly, she got on her tiptoe and pressed her lips gently against mine. It took me by surprise but I just answered her kiss and when she got back down on her feet, she tilted her head.

"Liv, can I ask you something?" I asked seriously, licking my lips as she nodded, her smile faltering a bit. "I know your tv show is based on our story but... for the next season, could you change that?"

I was scared to hurt her but at the same time, it was something I just needed to ask. If she said she didn't want to, I would accept it, but she knew my private life was a big deal for me and when she started nibbling on her bottom lip, I knew she felt guilty. I could read it on her face.

"I'm sorry, Niall. I never thought people would connect the show with our story but that was stupid of me. I mean, when I wrote that, I thought I'd never see you again, so I sort of wrote to... let it all out, you know?" she stopped and sighed. "Of course I'll make it different. I'll think of a whole other story for the characters, and make sure it has nothing in common with our story. Except maybe... well, the fact that they're soulmates."

I smiled and nodded, chuckling slightly. "I don't know if they are, but I know we are."

                                                 ----

I wandered around the studio while they were filming, and finally ended up at the cafeteria to grab a bite. I sat alone and started checking messages I got on my phone when I felt a presence in front of me and looked up. I was not surprised to see Heidi but I was not pleased either.

"Niall, we need to talk."

I blinked a few times and licked my lips, not really in the mood to discuss with her, but I finally just sighed and put my phone down as she sat down. I noticed she was holding a sheet in her hands and it made me frown. I didn't have time to ask her about it, she simply leaned against the table to move closer to me and instinctively, I moved my upper body away from hers.

"You know you could have just called me." she let out, confusing me and making me frown. "I know you miss me, and honestly I think we should get back together. I forgive you, I know you were a bit lost and..." she shook her head and I was even more puzzled. "It doesn't matter."

I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts back into place but I just licked my lips again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She put the sheet on the table and pushed it closer to me. It took me half a second to realize it was my handwriting and after reading only a few words, I knew it was which song of mine.

"Wait, where did you find that? I thought I lost it!"

The song was not finished but as my eyes roamed on the lyrics, I had a bunch of ideas on how to actually complete it and I held my breath.

"I found it in my boxes... the ones from your place that you've had sent to my place." she explained, reaching out to put her fingers on top of my hand.

I stopped moving completely and my eyes dropped to our hands. I felt frozen in place, a bit startled by her behavior and not really knowing how to react.

"What are you doing?" I just asked, my eyes still staring at her fingers brushing gently against my hand.

"You're right. We should get back together, Niall." she added. "I mean, I know you're trying to make me jealous with her but let's be real. Who could really be jealous of her?"

Quickly, I shook my head and pulled my hand away from hers, mad that she would talk shit about my girlfriend again. "Do you even listen to yourself? You know damn well I'm with Liv and.. aren't you with Dylan? I love her, okay! I'm not trying to make anyone jealous, I'm just trying to love her the way she deserves to be loved... the way I failed to love her the first time. And you have nothing to do with any of this. What even makes you think I want to be with you?" I was frowning, getting pissed at her behavior, and I started wondering why I ever wanted to be with her in first place.

"Because of that song! You wrote it for me and put it in one of my boxes for me to find!"

I rolled my eyes, angry that she could even think I wrote one song about her.

"I wrote this about Olivia! I wrote that in the first week I saw her again at the bakery after not seeing her for over a year. It isn't about you, Heidi. It got in one of your boxes by mistake!" I explained a bit rudely, looking in her eyes to make sure she understood. "I love Olivia, not you. You need to let it go, okay? And those instagram posts you make.. For fuck's sake, Heidi! What's the point? Make me feel bad? Alright, I'm sorry I cheated on you, I should have broken up with you before and that was a mistake, okay? Now please, leave me the fuck alone."

Without giving her time to answer, I got up and left her by herself at the table before hiding in Liv's dressing room. I searched for a pen, my heart racing as I feared I'd forget the words dancing around in my head, and finally found one before leaning against the counter. I started scribbling fast, almost dropping the pen a few times as I held my breath. I scratched the first line and quickly replaced it to 'Maybe we are the champagne lovers' and went to the chorus to add a few lines, too.

'So come on love me when the lights burn low Meet me underneath the sheets Cause you got a hold of me baby, enough to pull me back in deep You used to love me when the lights burned low Now we’re tearing at the seams We've both had enough of this, baby, so promise me that when you leave You won’t say you’ll come back to me.'

I stared at the words and re-read them a few times before licking my lips. I was still lost in my thoughts when the door opened and I jumped a little, turning to see my girlfriend walking in. I sent her a fond smile and moved up from the counter as she wrapped her arms around me. I held her close, the paper burning on my fingertips, and kissed the top of her head.

I couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics and remembered exactly how I felt when I wrote most of the song. I missed her and I missed what we had. I didn't like where we were and I couldn't believe she was marrying someone else. The parts about sheets I had added reminded me of when we would hide under the covers and we had done it quite often in the past few weeks, making the whole meaning even more powerful.

"How did it go?"

"Not bad for now." she admitted, moving away. "But I think we'll film the rest an other day. It took longer than it was supposed to."

"Good, then maybe Heidi won't be there when you film the final scene." I suggested, raising my eyebrows.

"Hopefully." she replied with a smile before frowning. "What's that?"

My traits softened and I brought the sheet up again to read the lyrics. "A song. For you."

"Can I hear it?" she asked making me look up. Her eyebrows were raised and she was biting her bottom lip. She was so endearing that I almost said yes.

"Soon, okay?. I need a piano for this one."

                                                       ----

May 19th, 2018

Olivia actually slept a good part of the day and I ended up at the pub with Julia, who was back to California too since her tour was over. I had an other first part for the other half of the tour and I knew I was going to miss her dearly. It was not like me to be super emotional, but with time, Julia easily became one of my closest friends and traveling with her had been a blast. I couldn't pretend that the fact that she listened to me complain about my love life didn't help us to become closer but it would be a lie.

"Where's your girlfriend today? I wanted to see her." I felt my lips curl more as I looked at her and she frowned. "What?"

"Oh no it's just... hearing someone else call her my 'girlfriend' is very cool." I pointed out with a chuckle, scratching the back of my head, feeling a bit embarrassed. I couldn't believe I had said that.

"That's what she is now, right?" Julia asked with a small laugh. "That's what you've wanted for months. You've been complaining about it every single day!"

"What? Come on, don't exaggerate." I argued, raising my nose up.

"I'm not!" she laughed again before getting a bit more serious. "I'm very happy for you, Niall. Now it's time to move forward, you know?"

"Meaning?" I raised my eyebrows after taking a long sip of beer.

"Meaning... plan the future and don't fuck up."

I stared at her and nodded with a small smile. I knew she was right, and she was not the only one who told me to not fuck it all up this time. I really didn't intend to, and I knew I wouldn't. I had lost Olivia before, and I had learned from that. I was not going to lose her again.

I was a bit tipsy when I got back home but she didn't even notice me. I stared at her, wearing only one of my t-shirts and a pair of black panties, standing in front of the tv in the living room as old songs from the 90's played full volume in the background. I was pretty sure I recognized a Backstreet Boys song ending and just as I thought it couldn't be funnier, a Spice Girls song followed and she started dancing and singing very loudly. I started laughing but she didn't hear me because of how loud the music was and it made me happy to know I could watch her a few more minutes. She jumped on the couch and pretended to have a microphone as she sang the lyrics and tried to do the dance and when she just started dancing around my living room, I took a few steps closer and she jumped, putting one of her hands on her chest as if it would help slow down the beatings of her heart.

"Fuck, you scared me!" she let out with a chuckle after pausing the music.

I didn't say anything. I just stared at her with a fond smile, thinking of everything we went through and how much I loved her.

"Move in." I let out as she was taking a sip of wine.

She frowned and chuckled again. "What?"

"Move in with me. Here."

Her lips parted and her eyebrows raised before she let out the air from her lungs quickly from her mouth in a surprised way. She licked her lips and cleared her throat before putting her glass back on the coffee table and taking a step closer.

"Are you... sure you can handle that?"

I knew she was referring to the fact that we were different, but it didn't matter. Yea, she was messy and yea it was annoying, but it was such a small problem and I knew we could compromise. In fact, I knew we'd both be way happier if we lived together and I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I could feel it in my bones.

"Yes." I let out in a low tone. "I want your grumpy face in the morning. I want your way too sweet morning coffee... I-I want your mess all over my fucking house, Olivia. I want to smell you when I step foot here after a long work day. I want to start a life with you. I want you to have your own dressers, not just a few drawers in mine. I want to share everything I have with you. I want to share myself with you."

She pressed her lips together and swallowed and I could swear she was tearing up.

"I want all that, too." she admitted, tilting her head. "I want to spend my life with you, Niall."

My lips curled in a big smile. "Then let's take that step. Move in with me."

It took her about a minute but she finally just chuckled and shook her head. "Okay. Let's do this."

REQUESTS

(i changed the first one just a little bit hope its ok!)

[queenmylovely]

Don’t Forget to Brush

Summary: Roger taylor x fem!reader. After a long, hungover day, some toothpaste and a certain look are all it takes to turn it around. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff, cussing, innuendo about toothpaste, smut (kind of sub!rog barely, oral sex], [18+!! marked with ***])

A/N: Alright, so this was quite the interesting request lol, but I actually had a lot of fun writing it and banged it out in an hour. I appreciate the creativity of the request, and while full-on smut doesn’t happen, I think this is pretty fitting for the topic at hand. Also, the title is a play on “don’t forget to smile” which I’m both sorry and not sorry ab (at least it’s not swallow... that I am sorry for saying). This is my first Roger smut, so that’s exciting too! Any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Request: May I request one where the reader is brushing her teeth and walks into the bedroom to answer a question of rogers and he sees the white toothpaste all round her mouth and chin and it reminds him of something else that’s usually round her mouth and smutty smUt takes place

Masterlist 

(he’s just so fucking cute /and like a little bit subby/)

☆☆☆

It was a lazy Saturday in for you and your boyfriend, Roger, after a crazy Friday night out with him and his bandmates. The two of you had stayed on the couch all day with the blinds drawn, plenty of water, and the TV turned on with the volume on low for the majority of the day, only really getting over your hangovers at around 5:00pm.

From then, you made spaghetti together for dinner and relaxed by watching a couple movies and listening to a couple records while switching off playing with each other’s hair. You were ending the night much earlier than either of you were used to (although, let’s be honest, it was always an early night when you were hungover) at only 10:00pm.

Normally, on nights after long days of hangovers, the two of you would have lazy sex lying down next to each other before going to sleep to let off some of the tension that gathered throughout the day when you had too big a headache or penchant for throwing up to do anything about it. But tonight it didn’t seem like Roger was up for it because earlier you had straddled his lap and started to make out with him, but he returned the kisses half-heartedly and you gave up after only a minute.

You shrugged to yourself as you started getting ready for bed. Changing out of your comfy lounge clothes into your just as comfy pajamas, you headed to the bathroom to do your nightly routine. You always started with brushing your teeth so that if you ended up getting toothpaste around your mouth (which was most of the time) and needed to wash it off, you wouldn’t wash off your moisturizer with it.

After squeezing out a glob of toothpaste, you started brushing your teeth, humming “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window,” by The Beatles in an attempt to make yourself actually brush for two whole minutes. When you were done, you leaned down and spit into the sink, and just before you rinsed out your mouth, you remembered something you needed to tell Roger.

Walking into the bedroom, you called to him, “Rog, we need to remember to pick up that cake tomorrow for Mike’s birthday on Monday. Remember the birthday celebration’s at like 11:00am at the studio-- why are you looking at me like that?

Roger was staring at your mouth, stock still and you frowned in response.

“What, do I have something…?” you trailed off, touching your fingers to your mouth and you realized that the foamy toothpaste was all over your lips. You laughed, “Oh, whoops, guess I should go and rinse off…”

You trailed off again, taking a harder look at Roger and realizing that he wasn’t just staring at you normally. No, his lips were parted and his eyes were darker than usual and had a hungry gleam to them. Then you realized what it was, he was turned on because the toothpaste looked kinda like cum.

A second went by and then you were cracking up, “Rog, no, you’re not turned on by toothpaste are you?”

That seemed to break him from his stare and he pulled a face, frowning and crossing his arms, “No, shut up, that’s not what-- shut up!”

You laughed again, heading into the bathroom and rinsing your mouth and then returned to the bedroom to find Roger still pouting. As you walked up to him, you mirrored the pouty look on his face and tried to touch his arm but he shrugged you off.

“Aren’t you turned on, Rogie, I thought you’d want to do something,” you said in a half-mocking tone.

“Well, maybe I would if you weren’t being so mean,” he said haughtily, looking away from you.

“Mean? When have I been mean?” you asked, actually a little confused.

“Well you’re making fun of me right now,” he started and you had to admit that was a fair point. “And earlier, you stopped making out with me for no reason!”

“No reason? I stopped because it seemed like you weren’t into it,” you explained, touching his arm again, and this time he let you keep it there.

“I was,” he protested. Then he said a little sheepishly, “I was just sleepy.”

“Oh,” you said in realization. Then you got a glint in your eye, “Well, are you sleepy now?”

“I mean I was getting ready for bed--” he started mumbling before you cut him off.

“‘Cause if you’re not tired, I think I know something we can do,” you hinted, moving his arms from their crossed position and placing them on your waist.

His hands immediately tightened on you, “Yeah?”

***

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “How would you like to see your cum on my lips, baby?”

Roger gulped and you just smiled up at him then he stuttered out, “F-fuck, um, yeah.”

You pulled him down to you and kissed him fully, trying to take his breath away with the way that you used your lips, tongue, and teeth. As you did, you guided him to walk with you until your thighs bumped into your bed and he was in front of you. You stopped there, taking the time to let both of you get lost in the feeling of the kiss.

Once Roger broke away to actually take a breath, you started kissing down his jaw to his neck, able to go down from your tiptoes. You kissed your way to the hollow of his throat, leaving a couple quick nips, knowing he liked the sharp pain of the bites more than the dull ache of a hickey. He was already shirtless since that’s how he slept, so as you continued to pay attention to his neck, you rubbed your hands along his chest, thumbing at his nipples.

When you could feel his moans vibrating in his throat with your lips and his hands were pushing on your hips ever so slightly, you moved lower. Pressing a kiss to in between his collarbones, his sternum, the middle of his torso, and then right above and below his belly button, you sat down on the bed. You hooked both pointer fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear. Then you leaned closer for what was going to be another kiss on his stomach, but you suddenly couldn’t help yourself and instead blew a raspberry right on his stomach.

“H-- Hey, w--what’re you doing?” Roger said in between giggles due to the ticklish feeling of the raspberry and he tried to squirm from your grasp. You pulled him back though and just did it again causing him to laugh out loud and exclaim with a smile he couldn’t help, “Stop, stop!”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” you told him with a smile that wasn’t sorry at all. “Your tummy’s just too cute.”

Roger blushed at your words, but didn’t look away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear instead. The two of you shared a tender smile and then you got back to business. You did place another kiss right where his waistband was before you had pulled it down, and you could see his muscles tense. Pulling both pieces of clothing down all the way, you followed with your lips, stopping to let him kick them to the side. His dick was already hard and you grabbed it with your hand, pumping him slowly but firmly.

Then you gathered some saliva in your mouth and let it drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it around. Once that was done, you stopped moving your hand and held him at the base before licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. Looking up once more into Roger’s eyes, you opened your mouth and slipped the head between your lips and started sucking softly.

Roger groaned and he moved a hand to gather your hair into a ponytail, not to guide but just to help him see and keep it out of your way. Jerking him with your hand again, you kept his head in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around it in tandem, and Roger moaned long and low. You always loved sucking him off because he was way more vocal, able to focus solely on his own pleasure and losing his inhibitions with it.

Before long, Roger’s cock started leaking precum into your mouth and you used it to help as you took him in deeper. Now working your mouth and hand in tandem, you bobbed up and down his length, adding an extra flick of your wrist or swirl of your tongue with every move. You kept one hand on his thigh to help steady yourself. Roger was a mess above you, and was fighting to keep his eyes open in order to see the so fucking hot sight of you taking him in your mouth.

You planned to keep eye contact as long as he did and batted your lashes at him as you took him even deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat as you relaxed your jaw.

“Oh, fuck, oh you feel so good, yes, fuck, keep doing tha--that,” Roger said and his voice broke due to the pleasure he was in.

Then you moved the hand that was on his thigh to gently tease his balls and he was immediately right at the edge.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whined out. “On your lips, please, please.”

You lifted your mouth off of him until the head of his cock was resting against your lips and continued jerking him, going faster and faster until he came with a high moan. His cum spurted out into your mouth and onto your lips, coating them and you continued to work him through his high.

“Shit you look so fucking hot,” he groaned, unable to keep his eyes off you even as the hand on his cock overstimulated him a bit. Then you wrapped your lips around his head again to clean the drops of cum that had accumulated there, removing it from your mouth with a pop when you were done. Finally, you used a finger to gather all the cum that was on your mouth and pushed it between your lips, sucking it all off, swallowing it, and showing him your empty mouth when you were done.

“Holy fuck I’m almost ready to go again,” Roger said as his cock twitched at the sight.

You smiled up at him and giggled then frowned in annoyance as you realized something,

“Aw man, I have to go brush my teeth again.”

“Me too,” Roger said with a smirk.

“What do you mean--woah!” you exclaimed as Rog suddenly moved you further up the bed and pulled your pants and underwear down. As his head settled between your thighs you thought to yourself that it was worth it.

***

★★★

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[rokutouxei]

in a way that would make you proud

bungou stray dogs dazai osamu (& oda sakunosuke) | T | 2913 | [ao3]

warnings: post-canon, alcohol, dazai-typical suicide references, implied/referenced self-harm, oda is still dead, also everything is in lowercase. spoilers for dark era / 黒の時代.

notes: this was supposed to be for dazai’s birthday, but i started it way too late. i didn’t want to rush it, so i took a week to write it and now it’s just a long angsty love letter from me to him (in a way.) + first bsd fic so i wanted to make a good impression LOL

summary:

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 23. hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15. everyday he would wake up wondering (hoping? believing?) that he’d be dead the next day. he never really does. alternatively: june 19th, every year, just feels like a long, long night.

-

(midnight.)

dazai doesn’t celebrate his birthdays, at least in his head. it’s just another likely-humid day in the country’s short rainy season. every birthday is just another reminder, no, a testament to a year of failed attempts to take his own life. it’s miserable at the worst. today, it’s just numb. he doesn’t even wake up feeling any different.

but he doesn’t let that train of thought stop everyone around him for celebrating for him.

dazai considers, for the first few minutes after waking up, skipping work altogether. it’s not going to be surprising, or anything new from him, really. and an earful from kunikida is just going to be cheap fun for the next day. but as dawn slowly gave way to the sun, he figured dealing with the pleasantries (as in, the “surprise” party that had stopped being a surprise a week ago) and sitting in his office chair would make him feel a little more put-together, at least more than just lying in his futon with his new roommate, a growing stack of empty cans of ready-to-eat crab.

dazai sighs, shuffles out of his bed, hearing the imaginary shackles that bind him there clink around.

(one o’clock am)

besides, the members of the armed detective agency think of themselves a small family at best, and for families, birthdays are special. (dazai hums this to himself on his way to work, like it’s a fact he’s learned, not a lived experience.) he’s spent the past two years carving himself a spot in this mismatched little group, and even if his space feels just as impermanent as anything he’s ever wanted, it’s still a place. he isn’t going to lose all that hard work over a random day.

budget is tight this quarter, but when he gets to the office, he’s welcomed with, salad, karaage… and even crab! there’s no alcohol because kunikida is too strait-laced for that and he insists there’s still work to be done. dazai whines and makes complaints, as everyone expects him to.

most of his colleagues have small gifts for him, like an orange from kenji, a candy from ranpo (quickly taken back), his favorite bandages from yosano… nothing really spectacular. kunikida gets him nothing, but the wordless glance they share with each other says otherwise.

atsushi feels indebted to his mentor, so he splurges to get him something nice: a scarf. which is hilarious, to say the least, considering it’s basically summer, but since scarves are off-season they are cheaper, and that’s the only way atsushi can afford something as stunning and high-quality as this—a nice thick cotton one in a deep blue shade. he passes the credit to kyouka for choosing which to get and for wrapping it nicely.

dazai’s eyes flicker with something for a moment before it’s gone. he thanks them with as much heart as he can muster, then does his usual dramatics. asks if the scarf is sturdy enough to hang himself with.

atsushi begs him please don’t and dazai feels something squeeze in his heart.

after the feast, the rest of the day goes as it usually does: dazai smiles and makes jokes and laughs and drives kunikida batshit insane. it’s just a normal day at the armed detective agency office.

just not for dazai.

(two o’clock am)

a work day is still a work day, though, and there’s no getting away from kunikida even on “personal holidays.” there are reports to be written and things to be followed up. dazai isn’t being efficient about it, but he still does his share—at least enough so that it’s even a bit fair for his begrudging partner, who is always gentler to him on this particular day.

an extra serving of patience—that’s what kunikida always gives him on his birthday. and even on this year, dazai’s quick to claim it; two hours before the work day officially ends, he’s already packing up to leave.

not that kunikida’s screaming will really stop him, but it feels a little better when dazai can afford to leave a little early with permission.

atsushi’s a little surprised no one stops dazai from leaving, but he asks no more questions when kyouka shushes him. kunikida only tsks when dazai is out of the building.

(three o’clock am)

out of the office and back into the rush of the city, dazai’s feet bring him to a beeline to that place, like on autopilot. he’s humming all the way there but his brain’s only echoing a sort of static. that is, until the imagery of sitting next to empty seats begins to burrow into the haze of his mind—and it hurts. numbness is okay, but pain? it hurts the same way squeezing into old shoes that no longer fit you does.

and dazai hates it.

so he steels himself, says, no one’s there anymore, insists, there is nothing to come back to.

even if he knows he will find himself there again one day. he always, inevitably does.

but not today. that’s not where he feels safe enough to break.

this time, dazai’s a little more purposeful, a little more awake.

he drops by a liquor store to get whiskey. just goes up the aisle and picks up the first one he finds. it’s not like he’ll remember what it tastes, anyway. the cashier doesn’t make small talk. dazai smiles at them anyway.

he contemplates buying flowers, but he feels a pang of pain at gifting something that’ll die before he does.

and so he begins the long, slow walk to the seaside.

(yesterday, today, and tomorrow)

yokohama is too familiar to him now. he’s lived here too long.

every street bears his secrets. every crosswalk has a memory.

every inch of the city has a weight.

when he was still learning to maneuver the ins and outs of the city, a little boy barely filling in the hollow of his new uniform, there was darkness everywhere. everywhere he entered, everywhere he left. dazai was sure the darkness would quickly consume him.

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 22.

hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15.

every day he wakes up wondering (hoping? believing?) if he’d be dead the next day.

today, he’s 23.

odasaku died at 23.

dazai should have died at 15.

or better yet, it should have been him who died at the hands of mimic.

he’s sure.

(four o’clock am)

even if odasaku had acted of his own accord, he was still given a mafia’s burial. the details, of course, were hushed: it didn’t matter that mori had orchestrated the entire deal with gide. what mattered is that odasaku’s death had led to the granting of their prized business permit.

a piece of paper in a stupid black envelope.

in the months between the port mafia and the armed detective agency, dazai struggled to find a way to put into words what the experience left in him. it was like it was him who was shot clean through the chest. he was walking down the path the end of odasaku’s life had pointed him towards, but then what? at what cost? to what end?

his friend’s death left no trace of him, his private files burnt, the ones still useful to the mafia kept in confidential locations. (dazai knows where everything is.) to the outside world, all that was left of the man named oda sakunosuke was a headstone, on a rather beautiful gravesite on a fancy cemetery overlooking the sea.

it was dazai who overlooked all these tiny details, even while on the run, in hiding.

honor the dead, they said.

he figured it was the least he could do.

dazai always felt like he could offer too little to the only man who ever really knew him.

so now he offers it all, stumbling along the unfinished path of a dead man, even if he didn’t know where was he going with it.

“ya, odasaku.”

(ten minutes past four)

not much of anyone comes to visit this grave, really. ango, maybe, dazai bitterly thinks, but he’s gladly never had the chance to see the man here. (he hopes he never gets to.)

because this is the only place dazai truly feels quiet.

he doesn’t really stop thinking. he doesn’t know how to. there’s always too many things to consider, so much going on, and even when his brain lets go of the tangible, of the here and now, there are other things for thoughts to latch on to, like old wounds that suddenly seem fresh if dazai closes his eyes hard enough, or the phantom sensation of a noose, or the sudden realization that he’s drowning, just not in water.

dazai’s long mastered the art of keeping his forever-rushing thoughts in neat compartments. he doesn’t usually lose track of his spirals, except when he’s here.

here he counts down, 18, goodbye, 17, 16, 15, hello, he is young again, he isn’t wounded in the places that hurt when he’s alone, he is meeting odasaku for the first time. (he’s walking down the port mafia headquarters and he sees him, and something deep within him, six years away from the future, shouts: don’t! spare him! meeting you is a death sentence!)

and then he is meeting him for the last time.

like freshly pumped from a weakened heart, stuttering, begging to live, the spurting red blood is still warm. it sends those in dazai’s veins boiling. there is no rationalizing here—no amount of reason brings the dead back.

he knows that.

but dazai breathes easier when the lines are less muddled, and he can point the criminal to the judge and sentence them to death.

it was mori ougai, sir.

it was gide, sir.

it was me, sir.

it was him—it was oda sakunosuke’s fault, sir.

(it was him who pulled me out of the dark, sir. who forced me to deal with the mess we made, sir. who told me i belonged here, sir.

i don’t want to be here, sir.)

it is only here where dazai’s mask really breaks.

shatters cleanly in half, then falls down with a thump on sacred ground.

(twenty minutes past four)

dazai rests his back against the headstone, staring out at the ocean, the sunset dyeing yokohama bay a lovely vermillion. the tendrils of loneliness cling to his limbs like they’ve sprouted out of the ground, when really it’s from deep inside his heart.

only here does dazai really feel seen: his transparency only to a man buried six feet under.

dazai’s given up on it, now. it doesn’t matter that people don’t “get” him, as long as he’s able to do what he has to do. this is a luxury is long past him, now that he’s slipped into someone else’s unfulfilled dream. he’s trying to be what odasaku would have wanted himself to be.

if there’s one thing, one thing he would ask for, it’s faith: and with his subordinates’ faith comes success—and that’s all he needs.

just bargaining chips he’s collecting under his pillow as he says, “look, odasaku, i’m doing good, look, cruel god, this duty’s given my life meaning, forgive me, forgive him.”

meaning?

no, there is no meaning here, no metaphor, no hope.

just a gaping void.

(four thirty am)

the sun slips under the bay and the sky is a beautiful lavender-violet; the sea breeze makes him chill. rainclouds have begun to crawl over the horizon, hiding the moon.

dazai feels old. too old. he feels too old for someone in a body that’s only twenty-three. he never expected this body to last as long as it has. he was ready to retire at ages much younger than this. his hands crave death with the same vigor his mind races to write strategies for situations where he survives. now, he lives in a world he never expected or planned to be a part of.

he wonders if odasaku felt this exhausted when he was at this age.

all dazai does here is think. until the thoughts stop.

the cap of the whiskey bottle is screwed on tight but when it opens, the smell takes him back to bar lupin so fast that his head spins. dazai takes a swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle.

and he was right. he can’t taste it.

only blood. the blood in his hands, the way it stained his bandages, odasaku’s dead weight, the red pooling on the floor. dazai only tastes blood in his mouth.

blood’s always been the only thing that’s filled him.

and he hated it. felt it thrumming underneath his wrist, his jugular, blood that said try as you might, you insolent mortal, you can’t die, that so many times he’s tried to wring himself dry of it.

he never does.

because if he loses his blood what else would be left in him?

odasaku once told him that the emptiness inside of him will never be filled, not by anything that he’ll ever find in this world. and odasaku was right—dazai knew. dazai knew long before he was told. no amount of money, no amount of power, no amount of whatever will get him out of the edge of the cliff he was dangling on.

for a moment, dazai wonders if odasaku knew and was so sure of it because odasaku was aware he was taking it away with him.

whatever “it” was.

(the sun begins to paint the sky violet)

dazai remembers an afternoon a million years ago when the hollow in his heart didn’t have the shape of oda sakunosuke’s hands. ozaki kouyou was teaching two jittery fifteen-year-olds about literature.

well, just one, but dazai’s really only there because he wanted to mess with chuuya, and kouyou spotted him first.

with not a single year of formal education on chuuya’s back, kouyou’s work with him was nearly tenfold. she was tasked not only to refine his abilities (he’s good, but he can be better, a touch of elegance will not hurt), but also teach him other valuable skills.

being part of the organization, after all, was not just about violence and murder.

dazai knew that. chuuya was yet to learn it.

arithmetic and history and science—the redhead had tutors for that. but literature, kouyou had taken into her hands.

it’s not the text itself, or the language and vocabulary, she said, what we’re honing here is critical thinking, and the bits of philosophical thought to be picked up that’ll shape you into a brilliant mafioso in the future. pretty words, dazai thought. she sipped tea while chuuya read. she tapped his back with a fan when his posture broke and he began to slouch.

chuuya read the books religiously, without complaint (at least not in front of kouyou). dazai never really understood all this. he let his mind wander. why didn’t she just let the boy read war strategy books—the kind mori made him devour? oh, but chuuya wasn’t really a strategist, and well, he’s obedient, that’s why he’s a dog—

the silence of the afternoon was broken by chuuya getting up to ask about a phrase he didn’t understand. kouyou smiled in a way that left dazai unsettled. and somehow, that afternoon was burned into dazai’s memory like it was something he mustn’t forget.

the phrase was 無我夢中.

to be totally absorbed in something, you lose yourself in it.

that is, dazai’s long known what he’s doing, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

(the sky is a weak light blue, giving way to an inevitable morning)

the whiskey bottle is empty now. dazai shifts to stuff it into his little paper bag of gifts when his fingers graze the soft cotton of his new scarf, deep blue.

save the weak, protect the orphans, he was told.

he pulls the scarf out and clutches it in his hands.

feels its weight. imagines rope.

please don’t, atsushi said earlier.

and dazai is trying, and trying, and trying, and—

is it enough?

is he enough?

will he be enough?

“odasaku,” dazai says, hums it under his breath like the wind will take it, bring it where he needs it to go, “would i have made you proud?”

(dawn)

fat droplets begin to pour out of the dark clouds. there are no stars out. yokohama glimmers under the thin sheen of rain.

nearby, a child hurriedly grasps his father’s free hand as he digs into his bag for an umbrella, and the little boy goes, “papa, the sky is crying!”

and maybe the sky is. maybe the man sitting behind the gravestone is.

but there are two sure things about rain:

one, that it washes away any and all things if you let it.

two, that it will always, somehow, at some point, stop.

(morning’s just beginning)

dazai gets up on his feet, with just a little sway from all the alcohol. but the night’s still young, and there are better stuff to drink than whiskey out of a bottle. he looks back at the grave with eyes promising he’ll be back soon, a little better, a little wiser than he is, and then off he goes, into the city he far-too-well knows.

maybe he can bother someone into treating him to some good, expensive, old-fashioned wine.

[ruxbold]

Twice x f! Reader

Nothing to possess

So this is my first writing and I hope you like it :D

Special thanks to my master and inspiration @ratmonky ❤

word count: 2376

Contains: NSFW, oral, paper bag

Do you know how it feels to hit rock bottom? To have nobody in your life who supports you and to have no shoulder to cry on. You’re alone and year to year you lose something til you have nothing left.

Jin Bubaigawara was the man who was already born without any luck. Trying to live on his own in this shitty society which doesn’t give a damn about him, he slipped further into misfortune. To the day he even lost his sanity. The only thing which kept him still going was the memory of that beautiful smile of a gorgeous person from his younger self. Though til the day you two graduated you never even once had spoken to each other and he was pretty sure that you haven’t even known he exists. What last was the image of you.

He could still remember that fateful day where he found your sleeping body alone in the nurse’s office at school two months before your graduation. He was so entranced by your beauty when you were asleep. 10 minutes he was just standing beside the bed and adored every part of you. Your little mouth that made cute sounds of breathing, pale skin with a touch of red on your round cheeks, silky hair that fell besides you on the fluffy pillow, your black thick eyelashes which always highlighted the beautiful color of your iris. He wanted to possess every part of it. He wanted to capture that beauty and keep it all to himself.

“Welcome back!” a cheerful voice which had no traces of worries in it greeted him happily as he came through the door. You rushed over to the man who just entered the rundown house which was close from falling apart. Even though it reeks of old moldy woods and was very far from comfortable it was still the only place where he could return to.

You gave him a tight hug and nuzzled your face against his broad chest. But there was no reaction from him to your affection of love. Well, it wasn’t really clear to you to read his mood with a paper bag over his head.

“I-” Jin began to speak, his voice lower due to the bag covering his face “I had a bad day” “It was a good day!”

“It’s alright” you looked up to him with that bright smile that keeps stuck in his mind. It was nothing new to you. Not even once in his life he has had a good day. But that’s the reason why you’re here. To make him feel just a little bit better after all that shit that happens to him.

With your hands you explore his chest, his strong arms, his abdomen. Your fingers brushed tenderly against his body, moving circles on his clothed skin which gave him goosebumps. One hand slid under his white shirt and traced his muscles on his stomach. Jin’s breath stocked as he concentrated on your touch.

The other hand went down to his pants and unbuckled his belt so that you could slide your hand underneath it. You stroked the bulge of his shorts, poke it with your finger and grabbed it with your small hand. A giggle left your mouth as you could feel how his member twitched underneath the fabric.

Then you knelt on the floor and put down his pants with his shorts. His member sprang out and slapped you on the left side of your cheek, leaving a stain of precum on it. You giggled and wrapped your tender fingers around his girth. Jin trembled from your touch. You smile got wider as you could feel how hard he already was and how much was leaking from the tip.

The man’s body stiffened as he could feel your wet tongue licking from the top to its base. The fact that he couldn’t see you, made his sense of feeling more intense and it made his cock harder than it already was. A grunting left his mouth as your soft lips wrapped around his head. You twirled your tongue around it, licking the salty precum off before you took the whole thing in your warm mouth. Jin’s body flinched as his member was pressed at the back of your throat. The wet and sloppy sounds of you sucking his dick and your gag sounds echoed through the room. With your fingers you played with his balls, squeezing them and your tongue working on his foreskin and twirled it around his girth.

Jin was overhelmed of the feeling and deep moans escaped his mouth. You knew how to use your mouth and tongue on him to make him feel good. That’s what he taught you after all and after some time you have gotten pretty good at this. He even showed you porns so that you know how it’s done properly.

“D-Damn…y-your blowjob skills are already perfect nghh~…there’s no need t-to improve them f-further ahh~” “They are awful!” he stuttered in between his moans of pleasure.

“Fhankf” you said with your mouth full of his dick, the vibration of your voice giving him shivers and sending him nearly over the edge.

Jin peered down through the small gap of the paper bag and saw your erotic face. Your lewd expression, how you enjoyed it sucking him off. This sight gave him the rest. With his hands he pressed your head down til there’s nothing left of his cock and cums with a groan deep in your mouth. The thick liquid of his, spurted out down your throat. His dick was still twitching inside as he came down from his orgasm, single splashes of cum still comming out of the tip.

When he was done, he loosened his grip on your head. You removed his still hard dick from your mouth, the rest cum which still remained inside was swallowed by you til nothing was left.

“Ah~ delicious” you said the thing which Jin always likes to hear after you gave him a bj and after swallowing his cum “But it’s still hard”

You gave his cock a few bumps. It always looked like a gigantic dick in your small hand even though he has an average size.

You got up from the ground and took Jin by his arm to lead him to the bed. There you sat down and looked up to his covered face. Jin could see your sitting body through the lower gap of the paper bag. You were in a female school uniform with a dark blue jacket, a red bow around your neck, a dark blue skirt which was rather short and black knee socks. It reminded him of his old days back at school. You didn’t wear anything under the jacket and he could see your cleavage from above. He tossed your white blouse which belonged to the uniform and your undergarments away because you didn’t need it anyways, after all it would take too long to strip you naked and he liked it better seeing you like this.

You smiled as you could feel his gaze checking out your body underneath the bag. Your hand wandered to the silver buttons of your jacket and you opened the first one on the top. The sight of you cleavage got bigger as you slowly worked down from button to button. Jin’s cock sprang higher as he enjoyed your little strip show.

After you slid the jacket in a seductive way off of you shoulders and gave him a view of your naked upper body with your bare breasts, you took his wrists and led his hands to your boobs. They fit perfectly in his big hands. They were not too small but also not too big, just the right size for a young woman. He fondled them first tenderly but eventually he couldn’t hold himself back, not when you’re making those cute moans. So he grabbed them more rougher and squeezed them which caused your nipples to get hard by his treatment. Your voice got louder as his touch on your sensitive nipples got harder, pinching them und putting them in between his fingers. You rubbed your legs together, already soaked and ready for his cock.

“Jin~ p-please~” after these words he stopped and removed his hands from your chest so that you can move into his favourite position.

You lay your upper body down on the bed and put your butt up in the air while you’re on your knees. The short skirt fell down to your stomach revealing your round ass and pink craving pussy to the man with the paper bag. Jin could see your shaking butt infront of him through the gap. He grabbed your butt cheeks, feeling your soft, cold skin. His member slid in between your thighs, rubbing it against your opening. Your vagina was already desperate to get fucked as he could feel her lips sucking on the base of his cock.

With one push he slid his full length inside you, reaching the back of your pussy. You screamed of pleasure feeling the sudden fullness in your belly. His cock always filled you up so well and your walls clenched around him, sucking him even deeper inside you. Jin groaned and started his rapidly movements, fucking you into the dirty mattress which had already stains of dryed cum, drool and sweat from your previous fucking sessions. Neither of you cared to clean it after all it will get dirty again and you’re only allowed to do what Jin expects from you.

“Ahh~ Jin! So good~ good~” you moaned, drool dripping from your mouth onto the sheet beneath you.

Jin gritted his teeth and his thrusts got more aggressive and deeper. He was disgusted from himself. He knew this wasn´t good for his mental health and would make it only worse. But how could he stop with this now? It was just too difficult for him. It´s like he’s…obsessed.

His fingers digged into your skin as he grabbed your hips harder. With his length he reached your sensitive parts of your insides. He knew where your good spots are. Even though Jin is a 30 year old grown man, he´s never had any sexual contacts with woman except you. Does that even count? You were his first time and the only thing where he could let out his sexual frustration and loneliness. He only had you in his life.

The thoughts of this made his movements rougher and you felt like he intended to rip you apart with his hard thrusts. You grabbed the sheets, trying to keep your butt up in the air. A loud moan escaped from your mouth as Jin hit that special spot. He penetrated that place with his tip of his cock, his girth stretching your small hole.

“Jin! I´m cumming~” you moaned of overhelming pleasure.

He also was almost at his end. Your walls clenched aroung his dick, sucking him deeper into your pussy. Jin groaned at this addictive feeling of your desperate vagina. He loved the sounds of your moans and skin on skin, how your juices flowed down your legs. It all turned him on and made him sick.

You screamed as you felt your orgasm. At the same time Jin made a few final thrusts before his white, thick cum splurted out in your insides. He stayed as deep as possible in your pussy so that every single drop of his sperm reached your womb. He breathed heavily as he pulled out of your soaked hole after nothing came out anymore.

Your body still shivered, trying to come down from your high with your tongue outside and drool dripping down from your mouth soaking the fabric underneath you. And again this uncomfortable feeling came up inside him. He never knew what exactly it was. Sadness? Almost, but that wasn´t really it. Anger? Maybe, but there would be more to it. Probably he felt pity for himself with another sour feeling. Jin put on his shorts with his pants and left the house, leaving you all fucked up on the bed as always.

It was like a daily routine of his after he had sex with you. Just taking a walk around the city trying to distract himself. He avoided the public spaces and stayed in the dark alleys so that nobody could look at him in a weird way. Maybe he really should stop with this sickening life.

“Thank you for your visit” he heard a cheerful voice right around the corner. It was familiar. He didn´t even notice that his feet led him to this place again. Maybe it was like that because he always came here after his “love making” with you.

For the first time in a while he took the paper bag off of his head and looked around the corner where he heard that beautiful voice just a second ago. And there you were. The real you. With longer hair, bigger boobs and more curves. More mature.

You were standing infront of the flower shop where you worked at. Greeting new customers with your memorable smile and taking care of all kinds of flowers, made Jin´s heart go wild. It was different compared to your younger clone. But there was a curse which bounded him to the fake you because he knew that he could never have the real one. He always thought to himself what would have happened to him if he didn´t caught your sleeping body in the nurse´s office. If he didn´t use the measuring tape that was on the writing desk of the nurse. Would he still be alive?

After he had cloned you it was very easy to manipulate your clone’s mind and emotions. After all it was just a marionette which he created for himself. And if it ever turned against him or would start to question its relationship with him he always destroyed it and made a new one.

From his pocket he pulled out a business card which he got from the man called Giran. Maybe it´s really time to make a change and to escape from the chains that kept him to his miserable feelings.

[copias-thrall]

Hellloooo! 💜 Love your writing!! What would it be like if a female s/o tied Dew up and teased him? Would he retaliate? 👀👀

Thank you, dear sweet anon. What a delicious ask. 😋 

You tie Dewdrop up—at hands and feet—so he’s splayed out for you. It’ll be fun! you had told him when floating the idea. He’d been mildly curious and had agreed.

But right now he is being tested so hard. He’s naked, restrained, and at your mercy as you work you mouth across his chest, your hands lightly stroking his sides. You’re trying to work his erogenous zones, but in his opinion you’re not touching anywhere fun.

He’s straining and tensing at those bonds, really being a whiny bitch.

“Aww, c'mon. PLEASE,” he pants. “Just fucking touch me, already.“

“I am touching you,” you murmur as you nibble his earlobe.

“The fuck you are.”

You sit up and look him in the eye. 

“Be quiet,” you hiss at him.

He pouts and rolls his eyes, his arms testing the bonds again.

You lean down and give his chest soft kisses, earning a grumble when you take his nipples in between your lips. Then, you trace his abs with your tongue. You make him think you’re about to take his hard dick into your mouth … but instead you trail your tongue down his V to the crease of his leg.

He growls in frustration as he wiggles and huffs at you. So you bite his thigh. Hard.

“Fucking OW,” he says, even as his dick spurts precum.

“You’re being a baby,” you say up at him.

That shuts him up … for maybe a few minutes.

You’re sucking and nipping up along his thighs, carefully avoiding his balls, when he blurts out,

“Unholy Lucifer, you’re a fucking tease!”

You lean up to glare at him “Every time you speak, I add 5 minutes to this.” Then you press your thumb behind his balls. He tries to arch, but he’s tied, so all he can do is tense and fight against the restraints.

“You fucking bitch.”

“That’s 5 more.”

He’s really doing it to himself. If he’d just kept him mouth shut, you’d be sucking his dick already.

… but you knew that when you tied him up.

You lean back on your haunches, spreading your legs wide, and begin to touch yourself in quick swipes. He can see everything, and his dick gives kick. He exhales heavily, bites his lip, and flops back as much as he can.

“Oh fuck. PLEASE.”

“You talk too much,” you say, before climbing up his body to shut him up with your cunt.

At first, he doesn’t even do anything—just glares up at you.

“You can either lick my clit or I can leave you here for the band to find. You’re fucking choice.”

Begrudgingly he starts lapping, his eyes glaring daggers at you.

It’s … not good initially. But then you start moaning and rocking, and he seems to forget that he’s not in control here (Or maybe this is the one thing he can control right now). So he starts licking and sucking at you in earnest, looking up every now and then to gauge your response.

His tongue expertly laps and wriggles at your firming clit, and you feel yourself approaching your climax. You’re trembling and panting as his tongue works you over the precipice, and you ride his mouth as you cum, your fingers gripped tight around his horns for leverage as your moan out your pleasure.

When you’re done, you quickly flip around—your legs still straddling his face—so you can dip down and take the tip of his cock in your mouth.

“Holy shit fuck!” he cries out.

It’s a good thing he’s restrained, otherwise you’d be gagging on it.

You linger like that—just sucking his cockhead and pressing your tongue into the sensitive spot—knowing how desperate Dew is to have his whole cock sheathed in your mouth. He’s whining and writhing under you, and you draw off him.

“Do I have to keep you quiet again?” you say, before lowering your pussy back down to his mouth. This time he immediately gets with the program, and you reward him by taking his dick a bit deeper. You take it deeper with each new bob of your head, and he cums fairly quickly—his release getting half in your mouth and half on your face. You hear and feel him moan into your folds, but you don’t get off until you … well, get off.

You carefully roll off him, turning around so you can rest your head on his shoulder. “Mmm. That was nice,” you say as you wipe the cum from your face and rub it into his skin.

He’s panting, face shiny with your slick, when he turns his head and says, “Fuck you.”

“Hmm, yes,” you say as you begin to get up and pull on your clothes. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes. Stay put now!” You give him a wide smile over your shoulder as you leave, and he curses after you. 

You should have known better than to leave him unattended. The restraints are hardly military-grade, and you tied them with a quick-release knot. 

You’re in so much trouble.

You’re washing your face and hands in the kitchenette sink—and then he’s there behind you, pushing up your skirt and ripping the seat of your panties in half. You don’t even get a chance to break away before you’re trapped in between his heaving chest and the hard surface of the counter.

He leans down to speak into you ear as he presses you flat and says, “I think you forgot who’s really in control here.” He kicks your legs wide—and then he’s got one of his arms hiking up your leg for better access and the other on the back of your neck to hold you in place. You have no warning before he roughly penetrates you and starts thrusting hard enough there’s an audible slap slap slap as his pelvis slams into the meat of your ass.

There’s nowhere to go; you’re pinned and at his mercy as he fucks into you and bites with hard teeth into your shoulder. And you’re wet, of course you’re wet—a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He grunts in satisfaction

“I can’t even punish you right. You’re enjoying this.” He lets your leg go and straightens up. “Keep your fucking legs closed.”

He curls one hand into your hair, angling your neck back enough that he can curl the other around your throat. He starting fucking into you again in slow, hard thrusts that jolt you in place.

“It’s not much of a punishment if you enjoy it, is it?” He gives your throat a little squeeze. “I want you to cum just like this, or not at all.”

He’s going out of his way to not help you—no careful angling of his cock, or pressure on your clit, but your thighs are pressed tight together. You’re certain it is cheating—but with the way he’s pounding into you, you’re sure he won’t notice. Your squeeze your thighs rhythmically against your clit until you’re a shaking, trembling mess. Your orgasm is just there, but you still don’t have enough direct contact to push you over. You can’t really whine, but you’re wheezing and gulping hard against the pressure of his palm.

“Yeah, just like that. Just like that, baby. You can do it. You’re almost there. I want you to cum around my cock.”

Dew tightens the grip on your neck until you’re pushed over the edge from the rush.

You can’t really moan, but you let out a rasp as you feel those first intense spasms of your orgasm. As soon as Dew feels you shaking and clenching around him, he lets you drop, his hands flying to your hips so he can jackrabbit into you. Growling, he buries himself as deep as he can when he cums hard. He collapses onto you—still letting out small rumbles as he crushes you into the counter—his hips still giving little, abortive twitches into you. 

When he catches his breath, he hauls you up and manhandles you over to a chair—you’re too sloppy from your orgasm to do anything but be led.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you cheated, little girl.”

He lays you over his knees and catches your arm behind your back.

“That’s 20 for breaking my rules.”

With a firm palm he gives you 10 hard spanks on each cheek in quick succession as you squirm and moan at the sting. When he’s done, he dips his fingers into your folds.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet. You enjoyed that too didn’t you?”

You press your hips back into his touch. “Please, Dew. PLEASE.”

He fingers you gently for a few minutes, his slick finger slip sliding over your throbbing clit. Then he unceremoniously jostles you off his lap as he stands up, leaving you at your knees on the floor. 

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will. You’ll never learn your lesson if I do.”

You whine in displeasure, gripping the chair legs—but he won’t be moved.

“Can I touch myself?” you ask as you look up at him, hand already surreptitiously creeping over your thigh.

He thinks about for a minute. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “But you can only use your thighs, since you like that so much.” And then he settles himself on the couch.

You glare at him, but he only smiles wickedly at you.

[saxxxology]

THE CURSED - Ch.10

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2200

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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They arrived home a little under three hours later. The clouds were heavy in the sky, and Sam left Y/N at the door to collect buckets of snow from the ground nearby so they could prepare dinner and bathwater. She was in love with her new cloak; deerskin with a long hood that kept the wind off her cheeks, and she carefully hung it on the little coat hook by the door.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, Sam and Y/N reclined on the bed as the warmth filled the cottage. She lay across his chest, absorbing the sound of his heart beating as they dozed off.

They reawakened as the sun was setting, and together they scrambled to prepare a quick dinner of roasted beef, bread, and cheese. Afterwards, they reclined against the edge of the bed, watching as the fire roared on.

“I know what you want,” Sam murmured, “I know you want to be an immortal, like me. But I don’t want you to…” he swallowed, “I don’t want you to live with the knowledge that one day everyone you know, everyone you love, is going to die.”

Y/N tilted her head up on his chest. “I know. I don’t have anyone else to love besides you, I don’t have family outside of you and Dean and Jo.”

“What about your other family?”

She shook her head. “They sold me off to someone because my father was too scared to take account for his actions. I don't love them.” She stretched up and kissed him gently. “Just because they’re blood doesn’t make them family. I love you.”

Sam smiled at her words and interlaced his fingers with hers. “I love you too… but I refuse to see you suffer. We already have to live with the possibility that we may never have a child, I don’t want to turn you into something you’ll end up hating.”

“But I want to be with you,” Y/N protested. “I don’t want to grow old and frail while you stay young and handsome. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Sam sighed and stood up. “I’d like to hear another reason besides you not wanting to grow old or leave me alone for the rest of time. Can you give me that?”

Y/N swallowed and watched as he poured a tankard of mead. “You’d miss waking up to me every morning. You’d miss the way I smell, the sound of my voice.”

Sam turned to look at her. “Go on.”

She stood and went to him. “You’d miss the way I fall asleep against you every night, how I kiss your cheek and run my fingers through your hair.” She undid the tie of her long robe and opened it. “You’d miss,” she sank to her knees and tugged his trousers open, “the way I make you feel with my hands… my mouth.”

He was already half hard when she pulled him free, and within seconds he was swelling and thickening in her hand. When she angled his cock, leaning in to lick at the thick vein underneath, he shivered and let out a moan. “You’re getting bold, Princess.”

“Am I?” She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the velvety head, giggling around him when his lips parted in ecstasy. She stroked him expertly, adjusting her grip and sucking on him as innocently as she could.

Sam caught his fingers in her hair, watching as she pulled her mouth away and began licking and kissing at him, even reaching between his legs to tease at his balls with her fingers. He hissed and hastily pulled his shirt off, casting it to the floor. “Take your dress off.”

Y/N obediently stood and tugged her dress over her head, allowing Sam to cup her bare breasts in his hands as he claimed her mouth with his own. “Sit,” she commanded.

Sam obeyed, kneeling on the floor, and Y/N sank into his lap, taking one of his hands and guiding it between her legs. When Sam kissed her, he could taste himself on her lips, and a shock of primal pleasure shot right down to his cock.

“You’d miss my body,” she moaned, rolling her hips on his hand. She reached down, pulling his cock between her thighs and sinking down on him. “My warm, tight, willing body,” she kissed his neck as he groaned, “ready for you whenever you need.”

Sam’s hands flew to her waist as she rose up and slammed herself down with a sluttish whimper. He growled and tugged her head back so he could bite at her jaw, keeping one arm wrapped around her back as she started riding him, hard and fast, just how he liked. Her ass slapped against his thighs, the sound a perfect second to the crackling of the fire in the grate.

“You’d miss me riding you,” Y/N panted hard as Sam dug his fingers into her skin, “miss the way I say your name…”

“Yes,” Sam breathed, “I would miss that…”

Y/N felt him throb hard inside her as she ground her knees against the stone, riding him as passionately as she was able to. Sam groaned loudly and shouted as she scratched down his back, surely leaving long red marks on his golden skin. She reached between her legs and rubbed at her clit, sighing his name right into his ear as she began to reach her peak.

“Cum for me, Alpha,” she whimpered, “I wanna look at your face when I make you cum.”

She rubbed her clit harder, her body locking up as she peaked. She felt herself cum with a loud cry of his name, felt her walls pulsing around Sam’s achingly hard member. He strained to keep himself from coming until she said he could, and when she began working herself on him again, he made sure that she was staring right into his eyes.

“Look at me,” he gripped the back of her neck and moaned as she ground herself down on him, and then he was coming, spurting hot and thick inside her. Y/N felt her belly grow warm with his seed and tightened her walls around him, coaxing every last drop from him. Sam fought to keep his eyes open, but lost the battle and slammed them shut, shouting with pleasure as his cock throbbed inside her.

When he opened his eyes, Y/N was pressed into him, her fingers trembling against his chest. They stayed there for a few minutes, taking the time to relax and come down from their highs. When Y/N suggested a warm bath, Sam was all to willing to oblige. They quickly filled the washtub with fire-heated water and used several washcloths to scrub each other clean.

When they climbed under the blankets, Sam pulled Y/N close against him, cuddling her from behind. “I’ve never seen you like that before,” he murmured, “what you did earlier…”

“I don’t know where it came from,” she sighed, “I just felt… when you asked for another reason I wanted to show you how much I mean to you, and how much you mean to me.”

Sam exhaled heavily “You mean everything to me, Y/N, you know that.”

“Then why don't you just change me?” Her voice was thick with emotion as she turned to face him. “I want to be by your side forever,” she reached beneath the covers and brushed her fingers over his thigh, “or do I have to prove that again? I will if I have to.”

Sam traced his thumb over her lips. “I don’t want… I don’t want to know that I’ve cursed you more than I already have and I do not want you to go through the pain. When I said ‘excruciating’ I meant it in the worst sense of the word.”

“It won’t be a curse if I have you,” she murmured, “please, Sam, if there is a heaven, I know it’ll be with you and… and when I find it, I’ll never see you again. I’ll spend eternity waiting for you to come home to me and you could be building a home with someone else, a different life—I can handle pain, but I can’t live with knowing that you’ll take another mate after I die!”

Sam soothed her as she began to cry and pulled her tightly against his chest. “I will never stop loving you, Y/N. If I didn't love you, I would have let you suffer during that first heat, I wouldn’t have saved your life, I would have let you marry that man and left with a thousand crowns in my pocket.” He cupped her face and tenderly wiped her tears away. “I love you, and I do not want to see you in pain unless it is absolutely necessary, now that is that.”

He dipped his head to kiss her and stroked her hair. Y/N buried her face in his chest, silently seething in anger.

I bet you told Jess you’d never find another Omega either, she thought.

***

Two weeks later, they were awoken by the sound of a fist pounding loudly on the door early in the morning, before the sun had even risen. Sam sat up quickly, and Y/N gripped his arm tightly as a rush of fear rocketed through her system.

“Sam—”

“I’ll handle it,” he touched her side to calm her and slid from the bed, shivering slightly as the chill in the room hit him. Then Dean’s voice echoed through the room, and Sam immediately snapped to attention. He went to the door and wrenched it open.

Dean strode inside, breathless and fully clothed. “There’s been an attack,” he panted, “in town, some sort of animal… Sam it looks like… it’s bad, you need to come quickly, everyone is panicking. You’d better bring your bow.”

Sam rapidly dressed as Y/N stepped into her boots and coat. He wasn’t saying anything, and that made her incredibly nervous.

“Did anyone die?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean nodded. “I don’t know who.”

They left the cabin in a hurry, and Sam hurriedly saddled Shadow before lifting Y/N onto the horse and climbing up behind her.

When they reached town, almost everyone was outside in the town square. Y/N caught a glimpse of several men holding the crowd back, and when the Winchesters pushed towards the front, the people fell away from them as if the men radiated heat as strong as the sun. A stench hung in the air, like rotten fruit and something distinctly sour… the stench of death and wet-dog, all mixed into one.

There was a tall, dark-haired priest there that Sam recognized as Father Michael. A man was being held back by several men, yelling for his wife and sobbing loudly. Two children sat by him, their thin arms wrapped around his legs, fear in their eyes.

“Samuel,” Father Michael approached him and gripped his hand. Y/N noticed that contrary to everyone around them, the priest did not react in fear. “I am glad you could come at this hour, please…”

He led them into the church, past the outraged and panicked crowd. Rowena was cuffed and held between two large jailers, her lower lip split. Y/N looked up at Sam and saw that he was just as surprised as she was.

There was a woman lying on the ground, her body mangled and covered in blood. Her eyes were closed, and her brown hair was spread about her head like a halo. Y/N recognized her instantly as Hannah, the best baker in town. A blood-soaked stretcher lay underneath her, and Sam quickly knelt by the woman’s body, Y/N standing over his shoulder. Deep gashes ran the length of her torso, ripping her nightdress and staining her alabaster skin crimson with blood.

“She was torn to shreds,” he lifted Hannah’s arm, carefully avoiding touching her blood, and inspected a set of deep bite marks that Sam estimated went to the bone. “Why is Rowena in chains?”

“Because she is a witch,” one of the jailers replied harshly, “a Jacobite witch comes to an English town, it was a matter of time until she cursed us!”

Sam’s reply was calm, but filled with suppressed anger. “This was not Rowena’s fault. This was gadhar ifrinna, a hellhound. Rowena may be a witch, but she has saved the lives of many people, including my own. I trust her, and if you were to send her to the stake I would be sure that everyone I meet knows that the jailers in Dolgellau sent an innocent woman to her death.”

He rose to his feet and nodded at the priest, who in turn glanced at Castiel. They motioned for the jailers to uncuff Rowena, who angrily shook her arms out, muttering furiously under her breath.

Sam went back to Y/N and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He was shaking, and Y/N saw him look around, over the pews as if he was terrified of being watched.

“Is it like Jessica?” Y/N asked.

Sam nodded. “Almost exactly.”

She reached up, touched his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

Again, he nodded. “I’ll be fine. But this means that everyone in this town is in danger,” he brushed a tangled lock of hair out of her face. “You’re in danger.”

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. “Me? Why?”

“Because…” Sam swallowed thickly and Y/N saw tears fill his eyes, “because one of the hounds that killed Jessica knows I’m here. It’s found me.”

If you want to see chapter 11, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED

Forever tags: @atc74 @becaamm @bamby0304 @crispychrissy @crashdevlin @curly-haired-disaster @cameronbraswell @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @kdfrqqg @littlegreenplasticsoldier @lunarsaturn88 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @manawhaat @mereka18 @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @serpentbaby @spnwoman @smallgirlbigpersonality @shaelyn102 @thelittleredwhocould @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @81mysteriouslyme

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 49.7-49.10

Every so often I manifest an incoherent plan to stop watching YouTube, borne out of some inchoate idea to do with productivity, but then I’ll watch a video so mundanely profound and inspiring that gives me more of a creative boost than any amount of time I would save by not watching 20-minute explainers on Game of Thrones lore. On this occasion that video was this, on the toolbox fallacy.

Simply, as the Passion of the Nerd puts it in his video, its the idea that one can’t do (x), until one has (y) - or, the lie one tells oneself in order to put off doing something, whatever that something may be. In my case, as is so often the case, the (y) is time. I haven’t written a blog for early two months, and in that period I told myself repeatedly that I was just waiting for that big long stretch of time where I could sit down and get everything done at once. 

But that never happens, and the longer you go without starting, the bigger the pile gets, so eventually it becomes impossible to get through everything at once without a parcel of time so monstrously huge it is terrifiyng in its own right. 

And thats where the fallacy comes in - you don’t need everything to be perfect in order to get started, and once you’ve started, you don’t need everything to go perfectly either. You just need to start. So lets get started.

Episode 7 - Jesus, Oxford vs Manchester

I live in Manchester now (aside: before I got my job here I applied for a PhD at ManUni with a guy called Dr Kiss, a sliding doors moment which could have resulted in my failing to qualify for a University Challenge team for a record eight times in a row, assuming it was a three year doctorate), which should make them my second team, but to be honest they’ve probably held that title for a while anyway. Like Michael Schumacher in his glory days, or Roger Federer in his prime, the University of Manchester produced consistent levels of supreme performance in the Challenge between 2005 and 2014 that gained them many fans, myself included. 

They reached nine out of ten semi finals in that time, and brought the fight to the Oxbridge duopoly with four series victories. Jesus haven’t had anywhere near as much success in the Paxman Era, but won the penultimate Bamber series against Imperial in 1986.

Manchester are mascotted by a bee, the buzzy symbol of the city; and Jesus are sponsored by a jumper? Thats what it looks like anyway, it might just be a bit of draping with the college logo on it. A lot of the Oxbridge teams do this, but there may as well be nothing there because its pretty half assed. 

Its the Jumpersquad who unravel the night’s first clue, with Cashman taking the ten points for the Cashmere Collective. Manchester equalised with the next Starter, and moved into the lead with a full set on the third. A delightful picture round on Premier League football team finishing positions followed, but Manchester could only manage one (I took the hat-trick, naturally). I always enjoy it when the setters put the sports questions into inventive UC formats.

The Mancunians would get into triple figures before Jesus could build on their opening points, but two Starters in a row got them out of the quagmire, and a third, the music round, brought them within thirty points again. However, they were helped out a little bit by Paxman allowing ‘They Must Be Giants’ in place of ‘They Might Be Giants’. I guess accuracy doesn’t matter as much when its merely pop culture.

This would prove the end of Oxford’s comeback though, as Manchester surged ahead with eighty five of the next hundred points to seal the victory with plenty of time to go. They must have known they had it in the bag as well, because at this point they sat back and let Jesus race for a high scoring loser spot, which they may well get.

Final Score: Jesus, Oxford 145 - 185 Manchester

Episode 8 - Durham vs Trinity, Cam

Durham reached the semi finals last series, the third time they have done so since they won their only title of the Paxman Era in 2000, having also claimed a Bamber Trophy in 1977. Trinity won under Jeremy’s stewardship in 1995 and 2014, along with a victory in 1974, making this a match-up between two of only three teams (the other being The Open University) to have won the Challenge in both of its iterations. 

Adding further weight to the not-so-mythical myth that Durham is a surrogate for Oxbridge, the Northern team have also got a jumper-y object as their mascot (at this point I have realised that there is a proper word for what those things are, but I’m in too deep with this jumper thing. Is it just a banner? A sigil?). I’m glad to see that Trinity have tried though, and are proudly displaying what looks to be a hand-knitted bear (possibly Sooty from Sooty and Sweep?).

Durham charged out of the blocks with four of the first five Starters and ten of their first twelve bonuses. Trinity would have to wake up soon if they didn’t want to get blown completely away. Fortunately they heard their alarm clock when it next went off and in the blink of an eye they were ahead. 

Wait, surely not... *checks notes* No, I was right first time round, following a 90-20 opening stint, Trinity went 80-0 to turn the game on its head. Now it was Durham’s turn to feel shell-shocked, but they took the next Starter and we were level again. A hundred each. The game was being played like rugby, with one team smashing forward until the momentum could be stopped, at which point the tide would flo the other way. Scintillating quizzing.

The turnovers started coming faster, with a frenetic back and forth developing. It was Trinity who finally managed to stamp their authority on proceedings, opening up a significant lead with only a few minutes remaining. Durham would need to work even quicker than in the early stages to add further topsy-turviness to this topsy-turvy match, but they couldn’t manage it. A brief spurt at the death may however be enough to drag them into the play-offs.

Final Score: Durham 145 - 200 Trinity, Cam

Episode 9 - LSE vs Courtauld Institute of Art

Like I said in the introduction, the longer you leave something before starting, the more difficult it is to start because of how much you’ll have to do once you start. Another issue with this blog in particular, is that the more you have to do at once, the more difficult it becomes to not just write the exact same things over and over again. If I do one per week then even if I do repeat myself word for word then I don’t realise because seven days if far too long to remember anything for, and ignorance is bliss etc. With a big batch like this one then it becomes painfully obvious how many times I use the word Starter, even if it is somewhat necessary.

Oh well, lets start with a recap of the two teams previous appearances... LSE made the final in 1996, losing a high-scoring match against local rivals Imperial. They made the semis two years later, and the quarters in 2009, meaning that they’ve been elimiated at every stage of the competition apart from the second round. For Courtauld, it would be a success to be knocked out at that stage, having lost their only two matches, in 2015 and 2018.

Courtauld took the first points of the evening with the amusing fact that the Nobel Peace Prize hasn’t been awarded on a number of occasions due to a lack of deserving recipients (could they do the same with the British Prime Minister?). LSE fumbled a science starter, leaving the board (in this case the circuit board which makes up the buzzers) wide open, but Courtauld can’t even guess, which amuses Paxman no end - “they don’t study a lot of that [at an art institute], do they?”.

They know Shakespeare though, and take the picture Starter on one of his ‘lost rhymes’. The match ambles on slowly, at a far more leisurely pace than last weeks (a good thing about this batching is that I can reference the previous games with the confidence that I’ll be understood), and its Courtauld who are ambling slightly faster than their London counterparts.

With a few minutes remaining, LSE decde to give it a go, with Engels cheekily waving Paxman on after another science Starter was left unanswered. I just spent about fifteen minutes trying to make a gif of this, but the websites kept crashing and the one I did make was only loading as a picture here. So if you can just imagine it that would be great.

Final Score: LSE 90 - 145 Courtauld

Episode 10 - Goldsmiths vs Southampton

Goldsmiths lost on their first Challenge appearance, and made it to the second round last year, the only other time they’ve made it to the televised rounds. If they continue their current trajectory they’ll make it to the quarter finals this time out, which is the furthest their first round opponents Southampton have made it in the Paxman Era, in 2014.

The Southampton mascot, a fluffy deer, has fallen off of the table between the middle players and has consequently gained some camoflague so you have to squint to figure out what it is. I don’t know if it was placed there on purpose, or if they simply didn’t notice that their mascot resembled that scene from Bambi. Goldsmiths have a teddy bear who is wearing graduation robes, indicating that they award degrees to cuddly toys - where will the liberal agenda take us next?

Paxman informs us that Goldsmith’s Sibley hails from the same Canadian town as human PA system Eric Monkman, and when he introduces himself you can detect a similar lilt to his accent, but without the sense that you’ve accidentally sat on the volume button. 

It is he who takes the first Starter of the evening, and indeed the second too - perhaps he does bear some more relation to his noisy neighbour. Goldsmiths took two more on the bounce to go 70 points clear. They were unlucky not to be further ahead, having guessed wrongly between both York and Leeds and Southampton and Portsmouth on the picture round (with no other clues its pretty hard to tell the difference between 20 miles on an unannotated map).

Maybe it was the mention of Southampton (and its misidentification) that woke the Southern side up, but they claimed their first points on the next Starter, along with two bonuses on the Lake District that I knew too, but only because I was literally in Windermere at the weekend.

Once they’d figured out that you need to buzz in and answer questions in order to win the game, Southampton were actually pretty good, and their confidence seemed to grow with every point they put on the board (in this case the circuit board which makes up the - hang on, I’ve already done this one, haven’t I? See, I told you this whole repeating malarkey was difficult), and they polish up two of three bonuses on haikus which describe chemical elements (I missed the explanation of the question format when I watched this the first time, so was astounded that they had even been discussing anything with any conviction. “Just doing your job holding plants together. No fireworks, no fuss”. I mean, what is that on about?)

In fact, just as Southampton remembered how to play, Goldsmiths forgot, and they only managed to shake themselves of this malaise twice more for the rest of the match, allowing Southampton to canter away, mostly unchallenged. 

Final Score: Goldsmiths 95 - 175 Southampton

Phew! That was a big one - well done if you made it all the way to the end. I still have two more to catch up on, but I haven’t even watched those episodes yet so I’ll just do them as regular posts, hopefully tomorrow. 

I’d also like to give a huge thanks to Tough Soles who are supporting me on Patreon! (sorry for falling so far behind - I’ll catch up soon)

[zephfair]

Get to Know the Author

I was tagged by @desperatlytryingtowriteabook so this is about my fanfic (or lack thereof)

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I have 10+ fics either mostly done or heavily outlined and I just don’t want to post them. I’m not super active in any fandom anymore so I know none of the fics are very good and I just don’t care enough to put them out there. They’re all fluff or humor or smut.

2. What work of yours, if any, are you embarrassed about existing?

Eh, I’m not embarrassed about any fic I’ve written because they all meant something to me at the time, even the weird one with alien sex.

3. What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favourite scenes first? Something else?

Mostly chronological, I guess. When I get an idea, I just start writing as fast as I can if the outline is developing in my head. I want to get down all the ideas I have, whether or not only a fourth of them make the final cut. That helps with the chronology and then all the little dialogue snippets I come up with as I go along. Once that’s done, it’s easier to go back to the beginning and fill it all in.

4. Favourite character you’ve written?

I love writing Riario from Da Vinci’s Demons and Gustav from Tokio Hotel.

5. Character you were most surprised to end up writing?

Gustav, definitely. And Grimmjow from Bleach.

6. Something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now?

Sometimes I get a hankering to go back and edit stuff to make it tighter but I’m too lazy. The only fic I’ve ever done that to is Thick as Thieves because it got weirdly popular for about a minute and every time I looked over it I found things I wanted to fix, particularly over-explaining and over-describing things. So I gave it a trim and hope that it reads a little better now.

7. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

The only people who know I write fanfic are online friends and I’ve had generally positive reactions from them. There was only one fandom I can think of that really looked down its nose at fanfic but I told them right off I was writing so they could judge me all they wanted.

8. Favourite genre to write?

Comedy, fluff and action. I break out in hives when I read or think about angst. And I always argue that there is a big difference between drama and angst. Drama is necessary in anything that isn’t a total fluff or slapstick comedy ficlet, but drama is good. I just can’t handle angst where everything bad happens and then more bad happens and then there is an unhappy ending.

9. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

I’ve been reading a lot thanks to Amazon Kindle’s freebie program thing and oh boy, does it make me appreciate good fanfic even more! Also it really helps to re-watch or re-read the source material for the fandom I want to write in. That usually brings up some more ideas for fix-it fic or adding on a scene here and there. Or suddenly realizing all the UST there was between two characters that I didn’t see a decade ago.

10. Write in silence or with background music? Alone or with others?

I have to have background noise, preferably the TV set to sports or sitcom reruns, something I won’t be paying attention to. I live alone so there’s that, but if I’m somewhere with a long wait, I’ve been known to write smut at the hairdressers and fluff fic at the garage waiting for my oil change.

11. What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I think my fanfic has actually gotten worse since I started posting on AO3. I feel like I hit a plateau during Teen Wolf days and then actually went downhill with characterizations and writing style. I lost the showing part of the stories and started getting lazy and relying on the telling.

12. Your weaknesses as an author?

Plots, omg, what are Plots???? I just don’t have the energy, time or creativity to come up with and execute any multi-chapter, intricately plotted fanfics. I admire and kiss the feet of fanfic authors who do. I’m madly jealous of you guys! Also lately the telling rather than showing thing, as I said.

13. Your strengths as an author?

I don’t have any. I guess I’m reasonably good at clean copy—spelling, grammar, punctuation.

14. Do you make playlists for your work?

Nah, I don’t listen to music while I write. But I do have a list of songs that reminded me of the DVD bandfic whose title I honestly can’t remember at the moment...it’s the longest title I ever made but it cracked me up at the time. Every time I hear one of those songs, I immediately think of those guys. I never shared it because it’s a weird mix of 80s and 90s hair bands, some 2010s pop and a few contemporary Christian songs whose singer was my voice model for Riario.

15. Why did you start writing?

I’ve been writing pretty much as long as I can remember, but the first time I shared it was in seventh grade when my two best friends and I started writing a book in a spiralbound notebook we passed back and forth. Now we would call it a self-insert fanfic, but we didn’t know anything except we were having a great time. Then they both left our school and I fell out of touch with them for the most part. I kept writing because I could make the world I wanted on the page so I could re-read it.

16. Are there characters that haunt you?

Canon characters that haunt me are Riario because he has layers hidden under his layers wrapped around his layers and canon did him so wrong. I still feel a lot of sympathy for Derek from Teen Wolf and want him to have a happy ending. Now I’m starting to feel a lot more feelings about Bleach characters.

17. If you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Write what you love. Read all the things, everything, every genre. Which is weird because I’ve done both of those things and … I haven’t turned out all that great. So I guess it would be to practice more, write all the time and don’t let yourself get lazy and complain you have no energy to write, you lazy fuck.

18. Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

I think Elizabeth Peters influenced my writing style in the past 18 years since I discovered her. Although I don’t write fanfic in the first-person, she is a master of the unreliable narrator as well as creating characters who are lively and complicated and burst off the page (which I don’t do). But her use of language and her style is wonderful, and I see glimpses of that sometimes but not often enough. Her humor is the one thing I strive for too. Also Terry Pratchett for his use of humor and satire and his brilliant way of turning everyday, common things on their head. I once wrote a fairy tale kind of fic for a prompt fest and the prompter compared it to Discworld, and I walked around with my chest puffed out for days.

19. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, etc?

Ha, I don’t write complicated things. But my outline process serves me pretty well when I do attempt longer fic.

20. Do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

I prefer long sit-down sessions. Once I get in the groove, things seem to roll better. If I have to keep getting up or getting distracted, it sucks.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

“Hahaha, I can’t believe you answered a kinkmeme prompt where the two main characters were lions in a zoo and they humped.”

22. Are there subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Angst. I won’t write rape or sexual violence. No non-con. No major character death. I know there are other things but I don’t run into them because I only stick to the stuff I like.

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

All the time. I’ve pulled from my professional life more than once. I wrote one fic based on a very bizarre week that happened to me and everyone thought it was very wacky and hilarious. It wasn’t at the time and I did change the ending to give it a happy resolution, but I can look back now and merely grimace. I guess it was pretty funny.

24. Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

No, I’m the opposite. If I write an AU fic, I try to set it in a world or scene that I’m already familiar with because I’m lazy. I did do some Renaissance research when I was writing for Da Vinci’s Demons.

25. Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of.

From Treasure in Clay Vessels which is one of my favorite things, overall, that I’ve ever written:

Even though he'd seen the smaller sample, Girolamo was amazed all over again at the sight. It was awe-inspiring—a mechanical bird flying without wires. But even more astounding was the talent and sheer audacity of a man imagining that he could make mere metal fly as well as the Creator made birds take to wing.

It was blasphemy. It was surely sin.

It was incredible.

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Daily rhythms and a surprise...

When I suggested the other day that we all look through those long forgotten UFO projects my mind had been fixed on the fabric and thread kind, but as I was cleaning up my sewing room yesterday it was yarn which caught my eye, most especially a crochet rug I began last autumn but did not get far along with. So here we are in another Australian autumn and I'm rather toying with the idea of returning to this project and seeing it through to completion before winter's end. Staying home for many months should work in my favour with regards to that plan, but I'm also considering a basket of leftover yarn from last year's Sweet Pea blanket (Attic 24 pattern) which I made for Rafaella... I did in fact begin a new blanket with them but my cast on row was too tight (I did not think to use a larger hook for that part) and the more rows I crocheted the more obvious that curved cast on row became so I just packed it away rather disappointed and too busy to start over.  But it's been a long time between hooked stitches so I'm going to unravel it this weekend, perhaps whilst watching one of my favourite Jane Austen's, "Persuasion", and then start over.  Two blankets to play with, but which one first?  I'm rather partial to colour you know, and the sweet pea palette is more 'me' than the sandy seashore tones of the other UFO. Have you found something to work on or finish from your UFO bundle? In the kitchen I've made a return to breadmaking, something I did a lot of before we moved here. Through 2015-2018 most our our bread was home made and though there's been the odd spurt of home-baked loaves since then, it's the exception rather than the rule...but life is fast changing for many of us and trips to the grocery store will be few and far between now, so the rhythm of making three loaves a week is back...and it makes me happy. Mr E is rather chuffed too. The first loaf this past week was a light rye, lovely and moist and wonderfully delicious. I also baked an Apricot Shortcake that day, equally as yummy. My husband and I grew up in an era when bread was always on the table alongside the evening meal and though I can go without it these days, he truly loves to have a thick slice or two beside his dinner plate.  The Apricot Shortcake was an experiment, the base and top made using the same recipe as my Strawberry Shortcake (with a teaspoon of vanilla extract added) but I switched the centre layer ingredients to apricot jam and a large tin of drained apricot halves. Wow...we love apricots in our family and this is sure to be made over and over, so I thought you might like the recipe... APRICOT SHORTCAKE RECIPE 125g butter (we use vegan butter) 110g caster sugar 1 egg 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Beat all of these together until light and fluffy. Fold through - 110g plain white flour 110g white self-raising flour Spread HALF of the dough across the base of a greased and lined round springform cake pan. Warm 3/4 cup of apricot jam and spread it over the dough. Spread the drained apricot halves over the jam (I used an 800g can - that would be a 28oz can for the US). Spread the remaining half of the dough across the apricots - I dropped spoonfuls all over and then gently pressed down with floured hands once all the dough was in place. Sprinkle a teaspoon of sugar across the top of the dough. Bake in a 180C (375F) oven for around 50 minutes. A couple of weeks ago Blossom had gifted me a bowl of her homemade vegan chocolate mousse, which turned out to be more of a very rich fudge - truly scrumptious, but it needed something 'tart' to balance the sweetness. I made a crumb base in my food processor from walnuts, almonds, macadamias and dates which I pressed into four ramekins. Then I spread the fudgy mousse over the base.... ...before topping with my homemade lemon curd. This lemon curd is very tart and ovo-vegan (we use our own hen's eggs), which gave this dessert the kick it needed to impress my husband. I had to try it before I offered some to my husband, right? So good. Just so good. LEMON CURD RECIPE 3 large free-range eggs 1 tablespoon (20ml) of lemon zest 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice 1/4 cup honey 4 tablespoons of coconut oil (80ml) 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 tablespoon cacao butter (around 9 discs) - this is optional but totally worth it Gather all the ingredients before you begin as once this begins coming together its quick. Whisk together eggs, lemon zest and honey in a saucepan, then place on the stove over a medium heat. Immediately begin whisking in the lemon juice, coconut oil, vanilla and cacao butter. Continue to whisk until everything melts and the mixture begins to thicken.  Remove from heat and pour into a container to cool, and store in refrigerator.  In the fridge this will last for around 10 days. Our hens are back in their coop now that the worst of the wet season is over, although as I write this there is steady rain falling outside. They have really missed this area while contained up back in the pool enclosure for more than two months, and having them back in their home has eased a bit of the stress here (they kept escaping from the pool enclosure) as well as brought a small sense of normality to daily rhythms. Our girls lay 12-14 eggs every week, which is more than we use, so my elderly next door neighbour excitedly accepts 2 or 4 at a time.  The yard is a mess, I have to tell you. After the extreme heat of our tropical summer and early autumn combined with the wet season, there's been nothing but weed control and bugs...yet despite that I allowed a few of our basil plants to go to seed and they have produced scores of new plants just in time for the best growing season of our North Queensland year. We use a lot of basil, oregano, parsley, rosemary and thyme, and though some of the herbs have struggled to get by our basil and oregano have flourished. Now I'm waiting to see if the oregano will go to seed as well. It survived the sweltering weather due to sitting in shade under the large Ixora bush all summer. As I said the other day, it's been really difficult not having Blossom, Cully May and Rafaella visit each week, or for me to visit them. How my heart leapt yesterday when Mr E and I received drawings from the girls! They made me cry and then smile with delight because now we have them on the front of the refrigerator. I cannot wait to hug them close again when all this has passed. NEWS - the surprise! Blossom has just allowed me to give you a peek at her almost ready to launch online baby wear shop. My girl has been honing her dressmaking skills for the past 3.5 years, and being homeschooled she knows well how to research, learn, practice, test and then repeat the whole process until she is fully satisfied.  Of course, she may not admit this, but she's actually never fully satisfied and for the next 'however' long years of dressmaking there is ahead of her she'll continue learning and honing her craft because that's just how God made her to be. The sweet little outfits are gorgeous, and so very well made...there's even a bit of vintage Tilda I see! The label for her baby and toddler wear was inspired by her two girls, Cully May and Rafaella Lucy... As soon as the online shop is open I will let you know. May God bless the work of her hands. It sounds as though the rain has settled now so I'd best be away to play in the garden with my man. He has a wheelbarrow full of mature compost ready for me to plant seeds and there's nothing better than soft wet soil to pull weeds, plants seeds and seedlings, and to enjoy the earth beneath your feet. I'll leave you with this beautiful photo I took yesterday. Butterflies are everywhere in the garden at the moment but they do love colour and mostly I find them on flowering bushes or here enjoying a vibrant potted plant waiting to be planted out. Bless each and every one of you, loving hugs #Recipes2020 #Garden2020 #Blossom-LucyAndMay #TheHomemakersHeart #SneakPeeks2020

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/daily-rhythms-and-a-surprise-1

[engagedtobefree]

Phase 2: The First Conversation

Well, it happened. Definitely not the way I had pictured it, but it happened. If you ever have an embarrassing moment, don’t you fret. Just come back to this post and I can guarantee you will feel so much better about yourself. I wrote these every day of the week, so they are my thoughts exactly for that day. I’m already tired of waiting till the weekend and writing out the whole week at once lol. I wanted to leave them as-is so they’re my true thoughts..

Monday - So i got to say both hi and bye to Scott on Monday. I know i sound like the biggest dork but hey, whatever, progress is progress. I had some anxiety all day, which I think was an aftereffect from my other job on Sunday, which was just a rough day and I ended up staying an hour and a half late. I’m also doing a coffee detox, so I��m sure that’s effecting me somehow (besides me being really fucking tired). 

So first “interaction” is I have to send an email, and one of the group emails I have to CC has Scott in it. I’m pretty sure this is the first email he’s ever received from me, but it’s not directly to him. Within the hour he sends an email out that has my group email CC’d. I’m pretty sure that’s also the first email I received ever from him. I stare adoringly at his bad punctuation and grammar several times throughout the day.

Before I get ready to leave work, I always use the bathroom. When I round the corner, Scott is coming out of the men’s room. He’s chewing on his coffee stirrer as usual and he has a little smirk and says, “Hey, Dana, what’s up?” and I reply softly, “Hey, Scott”. He is looking at me and makes eye contact. I look back at him and make eye contact for a split second but I get really nervous around him sometimes, so I break it off. I cannot explain how badly I want to just have a freaking conversation with him. I honestly do feel like a freaking 12 year old girl who can’t talk to her crush. Idk wtf is wrong with me lol. I’m generally usually at ease around guys and can talk to anyone who I have an interest in. But with Scott I go back and forth between nervous/shy and incredibly confident. Like, no in between. And I’m always wondering who is going to make the first move and how we’re ever gonna get into a conversation. Like he seems super easygoing, but he seems to get nervous around me too sometimes, but I really just want him to come up and talk to me about literally anything. He could tell me he had cheerios for breakfast and guaranteed I will take that and run a fucking mile with it.

So when I leave, I put my stuff in the car and get in and start it, but because it’s sleeting outside, ice is stuck to my windows, and the windshield wipers aren’t helping. I didn’t warm my car up so I get out to scrape the ice. As I’m halfway done the back window, someone comes out of the door. It takes me a second to look up, but when I do, it’s Scott and he’s looking at me. I wave and say, “Bye, Scott.” to which he just waves back, but doesn’t say anything. I continue scraping but then look back over at him with a little smile, and he’s still watching me and moving very slowly to get in his car. When I’m done, I open my car door and glance back at his, and then get in. As I pull out, he does so only a second or two after me. He trails behind me a bit though all the way to the highway, and I wonder if he’s just driving safe or doing it because he doesn’t want to make me uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s uncomfortable. Say what?? Hi, anxiety. I begin to wonder if I freaked him out, like if he thought I was waiting till he came out or something. I genuinely had to clean the ice off of my car, and any other time his car is already started yet I still leave. But of course my mind races like crazy. I had anxiety in general all day, like sometimes it gets so bad at work that I think I’m going to get fired for absolutely no reason. I will literally just start to think that, even though I have been told several times how well I’m doing and how happy they are to have me there. I cannot even explain how hard I work at controlling my anxiety and making it better through practicing daily healthy habits, but still it persists. It makes me want to bang my head against the wall and cry sometimes. 

Tuesday - So Monday I made a promise to myself to try and not run into Scott or even look at him for 2 days. I know that it can’t always be helped, but I was not going to walk past his office and I was going to leave work exactly on time, this way I wouldn’t cross paths with him. So I was also hoping I wouldn’t have to go into the warehouse at all either. But then later on Monday night, I kept thinking how I just want him to fucking talk to me already. I want to be sure i can look at him and hold eye contact and not second guess his mixed ass signals. 

So Tuesday, I go over to the printer and who is just walking in but Scott. I smile big at him and say “Hey, Scott.” and add on “How are you doing?”, which we both say at pretty much the same time. I stand in my cubicle doorway and turn, but he’s already walking toward his office 

So 5 -10 minutes later I go and make some tea, and in those minutes Scott apparently went to the men’s room. He walks by me with a little smirk and we sideways glance at each other. He’s so close to me and I’m glad I wore my best perfume today (Gorgeous by Victoria’s Secret).

Later in the day I take an order to the warehouse, and on the way back I glance in Scott’s office, but he’s busy looking at something. About half an hour later I take another order out, and when I come back in i take my chance and look at Scott with a little smile. He’s turned around and facing the doorway and laughing, but all 3 guys are looking at me as I walk in, not just Scott. I quickly look away and am so embarrassed. I don’t want Chris or Steve to know I’m interested in Scott, and I’m hoping they were blissfully oblivious to my intentions. I wonder if Scott was facing the door on purpose though, cuz when I first walked past their office it was quiet, and I was only in the warehouse literally 2 minutes. It’s a possibility he saw me enter. But it’s maybe only the second time I’ve seen him smile with his teeth and it was so cute. 

As I leave for the day, Scott is already in his car. I just give a little wave and he waves back. I left a minute late, and I’m kicking myself for it. He must have left EXACTLY at 4:45. If yesterday I made a pact with myself to not do anything (fail) and to leave on time (fail) and then to do something (sorta succeed), today I make a pact to leave exactly on time every single day going forward. And to also walk super slow and take my good ol’ time getting in my car. Since Scott comes in last, he leaves last; Chris and Steve leave before 4:45. I need to take full advantage of Scott being the last to leave. All I freaking want is to leave and for him to be right behind me and then stop me for a conversation. I can only take these “hey, what’s up"s and giving each other the eye for so long (3 weeks, apparently - I’m not very patient lol). I am so ready to just talk to the damn guy and flirt with him and go on a date (or 2 or 3 or 4 etc if all goes well).

Oh, and I was behind him the whole time on the highway. I was in the left lane first, but then he got over in the left lane too. I tried to keep a healthy distance between us, but no car got in front of me the whole time before I had to get off my exit. I don’t know if he noticed me behind him lol.

Wednesday/Today - So in the morning I’m over at the printer again, and surprise again Scott is behind me! He says “Hey, Dana”, but is just looking around everywhere but at me. I say “Hey, Scott”, but it gets stuck in my throat and I have to cough afterwards.

This man, ugh. He literally stared me down Monday as he was leaving, but then other times he just doesn’t look at me at all. I guess I’m pretty much the same way though lol. I start to wonder if Monday maybe he was thinking about coming over and talking to me. But then my thoughts kind of shift and I start to think maybe he doesn’t have an interest in me, that I’m just some younger girl giving him attention. Heyo, look who’s about to be proven wrong.

So I’m at Joyce’s cubicle talking, and I turn around to Scott at the coffee machine. This is it, I think. Sure enough, it is. We greet each other, and this time, instead of leaving it at “what’s up?” he turns his whole body toward me, ready for a conversation. I literally could not believe it was happening. I stand nervously in my cubicle doorway, beaming from literally every pore in my body because I am so elated. I ask him how his day’s going and he tells me it’s okay, just another day. I asked “Are you guys busy?” and he says “It’s on and off, ya know, it comes in spurts.” And I say “Yeah, that’s how this whole week has been for me”. He casually says “yeah, it’s only Wednesday though” and what do I say?? WHAT DO I SAY???? I’ll tell you what I said. I said “Well, I guess that’s why they call it humpday, it’s the hump to get over in the week haha”. Of all the freaking things I could have said, that is what came out of my mouth. His expression doesn’t change, but oh wow, does the flame of embarrassment come to life in my body. As I do when I get nervous, I keep talking. So I say “Uh, what time is it anyway, 2:00?”. I turn to look at my computer, as if I can actually see the tiny time in the corner from 5 feet away, and then I spin back around. Basically, I spin in a full circle. Good job, Dana. He had been looking at me, but then looks at his watch. I think afterwards I should have complimented his watch, but I was also not close enough to really mean it lol. He says “yeah, it’s 5 of”. I say something after this, but I honestly cannot tell you what I say because at this point the fire of embarrassment inside of me is more like an inferno. I can feel my heart rate has gone way up, and I am getting clammy. I’m pretty much borderline panic attack right now lol. My brain is screaming at me. I go into my cubicle and he turns back to the coffee machine.

If you thought the fun stopped there, think again, my friend. So I go into the cubicle with the filing boxes, and this damned chair is in the way. There had been 2, and I moved the other one previously, which Scott saw. So I’m rolling this other one out and I’m right where Scott is, and I stop to let this guy Dan go by. (Completely unrelated, but Dan and I are the only vegetarians here and our names are one letter off. I find this funny. Okay, continue.) I tell Dan to go by me and I say “I moved this chair out like 2 weeks ago, and someone keeps putting it back in there”. It’s not the whole truth, but hey, Scott is smiling, and not just his normal closed-mouth smile, but showing teeth. He’s still facing the coffee machine, but oh, it makes me so happy I put a smile on his face. So this part, this was good. The next part, ughh. So, I’m going through the filing boxes, and I take a bunch down, but then I realize, there is no way I’m going to be able to stack them back up. I hurt my back over a month ago and still have not been able to heal it, despite a long period of rest. It’s back to hurting pretty bad again, and I know that I really shouldn’t lift anything too heavy. I can stack the boxes one on top of the other still, but stacking them up 4 high is definitely not realistic. When it comes time, I enter Scott’s office. Keep in mind I am still in panic mode, at least 45 minutes later (thanks, anxiety). I’m in the doorway, asking if I can have help lifting the boxes since I hurt my back. Scott and Steve are in the office, and I’m trying to look at Scott, but don’t want to make it obvious, so I have to look at Steve too. I sound awkward af and I keep pulling my lips in. Scott and Steve keep looking awkwardly at each other, like “okay, who’s gonna get up and help her”. Scott sort of starts to get up, but Steve is right next to the door, so he gets up. Scott almost sits back down, but then follows Steve.

So Steve is unclear as to which boxes he needs to be lifting and where. In his defense there are a lot of boxes, but I feel it’s pretty obvious the ones in the hallway have to be moved lol. I turn red trying to point it out to him because Scott is right there, and as Steve goes to finally pick up a box Scott goes for it too and says “Here, you need help, dude?”, just joking with him. It was only 2 boxes, so Steve moves both, but then Scott says afterwards, “You got it?” and Steve tells him to shut up. Steve says to me”If you ever need help, just ask us” and I say “Thanks. Yeah, I was able to take them down, but I couldn’t lift them back up that high.” I was disappointed I couldn’t just get Scott, and I hope he doesn’t think I was playing damsel in distress, because I honestly wasn’t. He walks in and out of his office like twice and when I look at him, he’s not looking at me but he’s smirking. I have no idea how any of our interactions came off to him. 

As I leave for the day, I leave at exactly 4:45, and I walk so slowly that it disgusts me (I am high-energy on the go at pretty much all times). I pause for a few seconds before slowly pushing open the one door. Then I painfully make my way just as slowly to my car, put my bags in, and wait. Dan comes walking out, but no Scott. I close my door, and start to put my gloves on (I always do this after I’m outside for some reason). Scott then comes out as I’m putting on my second glove. I look up and say “Bye, Scott!”. All he gives me is a quick glance and a “See ya”. I feel disheartened. I read into every little thing, and he always, always, ALWAYS says my name. Even though Monday he didn’t say anything and just waved, but shit, I’d rather have that. I look at him as he’s at his car, but he doesn’t look up at all. Dan pulls out, then me, then maybe 15 seconds behind me, Scott.

So my thoughts on today are very mixed. Now with some perspective, what I said was probably not damaging enough for Scott to lose interest. at least, that’s what I’m hoping. He had a little smile on his face the whole time we talked, and he looked a little nervous too. Also, we made eye contact, which was awesome, even though there was like 8 feet in between us. I made him smile too, so bonus points. He also kept lingering at the coffee machine and was stocking it, which no one does except Joyce. He stocked it with the tea I love, since I drank it all since I’m doing my coffee detox lol. I could have restocked it myself, but meh. I’m hoping he’s not put-off by the small talk, as everyone has to start somewhere. I can only hope he found my embarrassing self cute and endearing, and not off-putting. I am also hoping that this is what has finally broke the ice. I’m hoping now that when I see him I can now initiate conversation. Here’s to hoping. Also, still hoping we cross paths outside. It would be nice if he would just ask me out so that we could get to know each other that way. It’s so hard finding something to talk about at work since we don’t have any reason to interact. I could always ask him his weekend plans or how his weekend was, but that would specifically require me to talk to him on a Monday or Friday, which is no guarantee. I’m so happy he initiated talking to me, as it means he does truly have (or had LOL) an interest in me. It also means he was ready to go beyond the “hey what’s up”s as well, which I never would have guessed, because it seemed like he was okay with staying there. I hope he surprises me some more and talks to me again. :) We shall see. I’m still someowhat embarrassed and have no idea what he thinks, but there’s always tomorrow and Friday for me to try again. And then even days after those too. Here’s to me hopefully redeeming myself.

[bighit420ent]

Relax

J-Hope x Reader

Genre: Do I write anything that isn’t smut? The answer is no.

Summary: Look up from your books once in a while. A good dick down might be on the other side.

Word count: 4,267

A/N: I’m appalled at the lack of Hoseok smut so I thought I’d polish this piece I had about him and post that. Enjoy! Feel free to request stuff as well.

You glanced at the silver and pink watch on your wrist as you typed continuously onto your laptop. You sighed deeply as you pressed enter to switch line. This essay was taking so long to write and you could feel all your focus slip away, tiredness taking over in heavy presses on your eyelids. You met eyes with your charming boyfriend on the other side of the table. He smiled at you sweetly before looking back down at his papers. Unlike you, he was enjoying himself, writing lyrics and listening to some music on his laptop, calmly sipping a warm cup of tea. You glanced to your left and reached for your nth cup of coffee promptly sitting atop a messy pile of books. You tilted it. Empty. A sigh made its way between your dry lips and soon enough your cold hands found their way back onto your keyboard, resting lifeless on the keys.

You were so focused on getting this paper done that you didn't notice Hoseok getting up to make you another warm drink. His presence lurked tall behind your back as his left arm entered your peripherals, putting a black mug down on the table, making sure to push away all your scattered papers. He grabbed your other mug under your soft stare. You lazily reached for the new drink and brought it up to your mouth.

"Thank you Hobi." you murmured.

He put the other mug in the sink before standing behind you again, his gentle hands on your shoulders, massaging the sore muscles. You took a long awaited sip. Hm... Chocolate?

"Hobiii... that's hot chocolate." you whined cutely.

He rubbed firm circles on your shoulders and you found yourself melting into your chair, sighing deeply before leaning your head back against his stomach.

"It's late. If you start drinking coffee now, you won't sleep tonight." he said calmly, bending over the back of the chair, over your left shoulder his fingers making their way behind your neck, rubbing in soothing circles.

You chuckled, putting the mug down and reaching up to ruffle his hair and bring his head closer to you.

"That's the point, Hoseok." you grinned, looking over your shoulder, inching your face closer to his.

Hoseok leaned in to ghost his soft lips over yours, his breath caressing your skin each time he exhaled. You bit your lips, you eyes fluttering close by themselves as he inched closer, molding his lips to yours delicately. You body buzzed with a familiar warmth as his lips pushed gently onto yours, sucking on your bottom lip before shifting a little to dive back in a better, deeper angle. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm tongue poke at your lips and welcomed him with a soft flick of your own, parting your lips just enough to let him get a taste of your sweetness. His arms slid down your shoulders to your front, hugging you tightly, one of his hands snaking its way around your neck. You felt light headed as he applied slight pressure to your airways making you open your mouth wider in a desperate attempt to get more air into your lungs. You moaned weakly as he pushed his tongue deeper into your mouth and gasped as he released your neck. His hand rested at the side of your face, cupping your face up to him as he relished your mouth. He took a sharp intake of air through his nostrils before softly pulling away from your swollen lips, tilting your head to the side. He leaned down into your neck and feathered a few kissed on your warm skin.

"You take such bad care of yourself." he whispered against your neck, sucking gently on your skin.

You took a deep drawn out breath and shivered as he pulled away, nipping one last time at your neck, all of his warmth leaving at once. You straightened yourself in your chair, rolling your shoulders back, humming a small thank you for the massage, before resting your arms on the table again to continue your essay.  He grabbed onto the back of your chair.

"This is for tomorrow." you said, searching through one of the many books on the table.

He nodded and patted your shoulder, understanding that your academic studies were very important and so he let you do your work peacefully... for a little while.

He kept going back and forth in your studio apartment, grabbing things here and there. You didn't really notice too much, too invested in the work at hand. You drank the hot chocolate slowly in between spurts of inspiration before getting stuck on one part of your argumentation.

"I swear I just read that minutes ago!" you muttered under your breath, furiously turning the thin pages of an encyclopaedia.

Suddenly, the book seemed to fly out your hands, to go sit closed on the table.

"Wut?"

Your laptop's lid completely closed. You looked up.

"Hey!" you exclaimed before looking up.

Hoseok had a huge grin on this face before grabbing both your wrists.

"Follow me, lady."

He quickly pulled you up and around your studio.

"Ahh, what are you doing! I have this paper to finish writing!" you said, slightly unhappy, but kind of relieved to not be staring at your computer screen like for the last few hours.

Hoseok promptly turned around, wrapping his arms around your waist, walking backwards, still dragging you towards the hallway. He kissed your lips very lightly, before making his way around you. He placed himself behind your gracious frame and put his large hands over your eyes. Your immediate reflex was to reach up, trying peel them off.

"Hey! Stop it!" you said, unable to remove his hands.

"We're almost there babe." he said, pushing a door open with his foot. He gently pushed you inside the room. You recognized the sound of a fan. The bathroom?

"Ta-dah!" he said, removing his hands from your eyes.

You blinked a few times trying to assess your surroundings. The bathtub was filled with steaming water, flower petals floating on the surface and a bath bomb fizzing among the light amount of bubbles. A delicious vanilla smell floated in the air, probably from the 10+ candles he had lit and placed around the tub and on the counter. You turned around and tilted your head, your expression trying to hide a smile, because you really had to finish your work.

"Hoseok..." you said trying to be reprimanding, but failing miserably.

He leaned forward, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Please, babe, just take half an hour and relax." he said looking very worried, his hands reaching to cup your face up. "You can work after."

He pouted cutely. You sighed and nodded.

"Fine." you said, rolling your eyes.

He smiled and hugged you, placing a short kiss on your lips. He tried to get away, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for more of his dizzying kisses. He smiled, a goofy giggle ringing in his throat as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You gently nibbled on his bottom lip asking him to deepen the kiss which he did, sliding his tongue across your lips, then suddenly entering your parted mouth. You tilted your head to the side, brushing your tongue against his in short strokes. You felt his large palm slide all the way down to your ass, groping handfuls of your generous flesh and kneading it gently earning a soft yelp from you. You gently twisted the hair at the back of his neck, trying to get him to kiss you even deeper if it was possible, but to your deception, your eyes fluttered open as he broke the kiss, softly pulling away at your bottom lip, letting it softly bounce back to its place, before pecking your mouth gently.

"Alright, get in there before it gets cold." he said against your lips, pecking them one last time before getting out.

You walked into the bathroom and dipped a finger into the water. It was scolding hot. You quickly took your hand back wondering why he poured it so warm and then you remembered how tense you always were. He was very thoughtful of pouring you a bath and it made you smile like a dumbass remembering all the times he was good to you. It's true, you had a habit of neglecting yourself like that time when he warned your about that knife your were wielding in the kitchen while making some soup that accidentally sliced the side of your hand, rendering your incapable of finishing diner to which he patched you up and ended the job good if not better than you would've. Or all the times when you had caught a cold despite him nagging you about closing your coat and he'd be the one getting all your meds once your were bed ridden and holding your shivering frame with so much love. You walked out of the bathroom to your bedroom with a soft smile tugging your beautiful features. You got completely undressed and put on a black satin night robe tied closed around your waist. You grabbed a clean towel and went back into the bathroom.

You placed your towel on the counter and tied your hair in a ponytail, using a bobby pin to place some stray strands. You noticed a book on the closed lid of the toilet seat and picked it up, it was the one you had stopped reading a while ago, because you were buried under piles of work. You ran the pages along your fingers, trying to find where you left off when the door of the bathroom creaked open. Hoseok peeked inside and frowned.

"Ya, get in the tub already!" he said playfully before walking in.

You chuckled and put the book down, turning towards your boyfriend, feeling frisky.

"You're not getting in with me?" you said seductively, tugging down on the hem of his black shirt, your lush lips snug between the grip of your teeth.

His eyes widened at your advances, a slight lump forming in his throat. He swallowed and you watched as his Adams apple bobbed under his beautiful skin, bringing your tongue to swipe across your lips, knowing he loved it when you did that.

"I poured it for you!" he said, incredulous, trying to ignore the way you made him feel so you could get some well deserved, relaxing me time.

You smiled and shrugged, turning your back to him, slowly untying your robe.

"Alright then." you said letting the silky black fabric fall down the soft skin of your shoulders, exposing your upper back to him.

You took lascivious steps towards the bath.

"Your loss." you said, looking over your shoulder with half lidded, lustful eyes and biting your lips some more.

You dropped the silky fabric to the floor and dipped your toe in the warm water before climbing in and sitting down under Hoseok's curious stare. You comfortably unwound in the warm water, your back against the porcelain, sighing at the nice relaxing feeling as you sunk deeper into the warm water. You gathered the bubbles and flower petals around your shoulders, hiding your modesty. You looked up at your boyfriend who was just... watching.

"Something I can do for you, Hoseok?" you said eyeing him down.

His eyes narrowed at your oblique smirk. He reached up to grab the neck of his shirt, pulling it over his head and revealing his beautifully golden toned chest. You snickered as he pops the button of his pants open.

"Why you gotta do this to me!" he said under his breath.

You watched him undress and peeked at his half hard length, a content smile stretching your lips and letting out a deep sigh anticipating the pleasure to come. He slipped into the bath, facing you, careful not to knock some candles down as he sat down.

"Do what exactly Hobi?" you asked coyly, raising your right knee out of the water to push him in the back of the tub with your soaked pedicured feet.

He chuckled as he fell back and grabbed a hold of your ankle, his other hand running up the outside of your left leg. He pulled your leg slightly above his shoulder and kissed your ankle up to your knee before putting it back into the water.

"Be so incredibly irresistible... " he groaned at the sight of you pulling yourself up the bath, the top of your chest and breasts glistening from the water and fine micro glitter of the bath bomb.

You grinned, placing both of your feet on either side of Hoseok's hips. You lowered yourself back into the water.

"Why do you have to be so far?" you said, a saddened pout on your face.

He smiled and reached his hands in front of him to grab your delicate wrists.

"Then come over here..." he said lowly, tugging at your wrists.

You smiled and swam over to his side, turning around and trying to sit comfortably between his knees.

"I hope you don't mind..." he said a little flustered as your back brushed against his erection.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you adjusted yourself  between his thighs. You backed your ass onto him, leaning forward, both your hands at the bottom of the tub propping you up.

"Mind what, Hoseok?" you said, grinding against him.

He hissed, but didn't stop you from providing some much needed friction. You felt his length rub against the top of your ass, tickling you. You giggled.

"Baby?~" you cooed, leaning your back against his chest, properly this time.

His breath hitched again as your skin made contact. You leaned your head against his shoulder and he snaked his arms around your body.

"You're naughty..." he whispered into your neck as he embraced you tighter.

His lips kissed your neck up to your ear and despite the water being quite warm, you couldn't help but shudder under his touch. His soft hands wandered around your body, caressing your stomach before going down your leg, up to your knee, your heartbeat racing faster by the minute. His finger traced the fine muscle of your inner thigh, down to the junction of your body and leg. You gasp inaudibly as his finger traced around your bikini line, light as a feather. His kisses on the other hand were a little hungrier. His mouth biting and nipping at your fragile skin, bringing blood up to the surface and bruising you with his lust. His left hand reached up to grab your breast, squeezing firmly, making you squirm in the water. He gently pinched your nipple, his tongue licking your neck up.

You bit your lip to keep you from moaning as his nimble fingers pinched, twisted and rubbed your hardened nipple, sending subtle waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but get aroused at the different touches he was giving your body as well as his deep breaths breaking against your skin. You let yourself go under his skilful hands as his right one reached between your thighs, a brave finger wandering between your folds. He smiled against your ear feeling the viscosity different from the water as he dipped a finger in your heat.

You leaned your head completely back against his left shoulder, a whimper crossing your lips as he find your clit. He tilted your head to the side slightly and angled himself down to be able to reach your lips. He kissed them softly as he rubbed small circles on your pleasure spot. You furrowed your brows, feeling the pleasure build inside your stomach and broke the kiss to moan a little louder than you intended to. Your mouth hung slightly open, trying to keep your breath steady, but his fingers worked magic against your clit, making your breath shake. He then slipped a lone middle finger into your  core, curling it up and hitting that nice spot making you jerk forward.

"Is that good baby?" he growled into your ear.

He kept rubbing you, feeling your walls squeeze lightly on his finger. His thumb worked wonders as he slipped his index finger into you as well, stretching you little by little as he pumped his fingers at a slow, but satisfying pace. His long fingers were skilled at rubbing you in all the right places with just the right amount of pressure and you felt a familiar heat from your core as the pleasure became almost too good. Your breathing became shallower as he angled his fingers to brush softly against your g-spot, quickening his pace just a little bit to get the rise out of you. He nibbled gently on your ear, moaning almost inaudibly at how flustered you were getting, getting off on the idea of you cumming from his fingers alone and relishing the still pressure your ass and back applied to his rock hard length against his stomach. Your moans rose in volume, getting caught in your throat. You hummed and trashed lightly against Hoseok, feeling the familiar surge of warmth washing over your body.

"Don't... stop.. . I'm gonna cum..." you moaned, wriggling against him.

A few strokes later your orgasm hit you in several long waves of pleasure, making your limbs twitch subtly, your back arching off his chest and toes curling as your pussy clenched around his slow moving fingers that milked your climax to its very last drop. You moaned, hummed and panted under his lustful gaze, feeling the pulse in his dick against your back. He squeezed your breasts again, sliding his fingers in and out your core a few more times before taking them out with a cheeky glide over your clit, letting you calm down from your high. You closed your thighs together, still feeling the jolts of pleasure going through your being. Hoseok moaned and leaned back against the tub, hands digging at your hips, the sight of you losing it a little too arousing for him. His breath became heavy with desire and he grunted, trying to stop himself from releasing too soon. Boy were you beautiful, beads of sweat rolling down your temple, eyes closed in bliss, luscious plump lips hanging open, Hoseok's name rolling off your tongue effortlessly in a breathy cry... he had to close his eyes and burn these images along with countless other ones in his mind.

You melted back into his embrace, his breath hitting the side of your face heavily. You turned your shoulders towards him, snuggling close to him. His eyes fluttered open as he felt you turn around to straddle him. Your eyes wandered on his fucked out flushed face, tracing the shape of his strong eyebrows, down the straight slant of his nose, around his beautiful pink swollen lips and his ever so bobbing Adam's apple as he swallowed another lump in his throat . Your right hand's fingers traced his deep collarbones before palming his chest, using him as leverage so you could sit yourself down onto his length.

You reached between your legs with your left hand, grabbing a hold of his cock and stroking it firmly earning very pleasing sounds from your boyfriend. He closed his eyes and grunted as you ran your thumb over the slit, feeling his pre-cum already leaking from it. You rubbed the sensitive head of his cock against your palm, making him jolt in pleasure before stroking his length in the firm and twisted strokes he liked. His mouth hung slightly open whispering your name in between his ragged breath intakes. You leaned down over his lips to lick his lips which he pursed for you to kiss softly, before allowing your tongue to slide against his in a rather lewd dance. He darted the tip of his tongue out, meeting with yours before you sucked on his, leaning down lower for a proper lip lock. You swallowed his deep moans which reverberated in your whole body, resparking that horny flame that just needed that little of a boost. You broke the French kiss, smiling down at him, stroking his cock a few times before placing yourself atop of him. Before you could slide yourself down his cock he grabbed your waist, holding you up, his eyes shooting open.

"Wait, I don't have a condom on." he said, shaken at the possibility of making the mistake.

You chuckled and sighed, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, wrapping your right arm around his neck.

"I'm on the pill Hobi, relax." you said, a little amused, letting your weight fall a little more on him.

He stills you from moving down onto him.

"Just let m-"

"Shut up and let me fuck you, Hoseok." you said between your gritted teeth eager to have him inside you.

His breath hitched, but he let go of his lift on you, his hand gripped on your hips but not holding you up. You cautiously lowered yourself onto his rock hard dick, feeling him fit snugly into you. He moaned loudly, hissing and cussing under his breath, something about how fucking tight you were and how much he loved your pussy and how drenched it always was for him, immediately forgetting about the condom and letting himself go to his primal instincts. He dug his fingers into your hips, helping you rock them against him, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.  

The sinfully good motion made both of you moan in unison. You tilted your head to the side, both of your hand on his shoulders, helping you rock steady. He leaned down, kissing between your breasts before taking a mound in his mouth, gently sucking and swirling his tongue around the nub. He pulled it between his teeth, letting it bounce back into place before simply burying his face into your heaving chest. You could tell he was about to release, his hold bruisingly tight and breath uneven. You lifted yourself almost off his cock, the tip remaining inside your core, just to impale yourself again on his entire length, starting a bouncing motion on his hips. He slid himself down the tub just a little bit, to be able to push his hips into you, aiding your motion and chasing after his own release. The water waved back and forth, breaking against your back as you rode him steadily into his orgasm a few bounce later and he grunted, his moans all caught in his throat as he sprayed his warm cum inside you. He couldn't help, but moan your name as he filled your pussy with his seeds, riding his orgasm into you. You felt the twitch in his cock and his sperm flow into you in successive bursts, turning you on even more if possible and sending you over the edge. You started trembling and contracting around his member, which made him moan a little louder as he was getting a bit sensitive.

You lifted yourself off of him before kneeling on the lower half of his thighs, feeling his release trickle out of you and dissipate into the pale pink water. He grabbed your face with both of his hands, lifting your face up and towards his as he hungrily kissed you. You placed your hands on his hips to stop yourself from toppling forward, basically on all fours, ass up and out of the water, making out with your boyfriend. He broke the kiss, pecking you before staring into your eyes. A large smile stretched his lips, lifting his beautiful cheeks and turning his eyes into little crescents. The adorable smile making you giggle as you leaned in for another peck. As your lips peeled off of him, you sat back, grabbing your loofah to clean yourself. He grabbed the soap, rubbing it against his hands before handing it out to you, following suit with a normal bath routine.

After you were done and your skin dried and moisturized, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, drying your hair. Hoseok walked into the bathroom in only his pyjama pants. You smiled at him as he walked around you, embracing you from the back. You put the dryer down, brushing your mostly dry hair. He leaned into your neck.

"That was a fun bath..." he said, chuckling like an idiot.

You pushed your fringe back and out of your face, pouting.

"I'm sore..." you said cutely, referring to the total thigh work out you just had in the tub and how your legs kind of felt like spaghetti.

"You really need a vacation." he said, holding your hips and pulling you innocently against him.

You nodded before deciding you didn't want to put the effort into completely drying your hair. You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer.

"I'll take you anywhere babe." he said, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours.

You feint thinking for a few seconds, your eyes looking up to the ceiling, before landing back into his dark brown irises.

"First, take me to the bed." you whispered low against his lips.

"And then 7th heaven again?" he said cheekily, grabbing your ass before lifting you up so you'd wrap your limp legs around his waist.

"Oh gosh..."

"Don't worry. I'll fuck you there." he said, winking before walking out of the bathroom with you latched onto him and his lips finding yours in a fiery kiss.

[poop4u]

Spay-Neuter or De Sex?

#Poop4U

Years ago, I was in the Scotland at a reception kicking off a conference on animal welfare. I was introduced to the group by my host as an “American Ethologist.” There was a smattering of welcoming applause in greeting, and then a kindly-looking gentleman approached me, asked if he could get me a glass of wine. He returned, passed me my glass and said: “You Americans are butchers.”

I had meant to sip my wine, but now I began gulping it. I had no idea what he was referring to but my mind went to American foreign policy. I said nothing, while he went on to say he was appalled that Americans de-sex their dogs and cats as a matter of course, no matter how healthy they were. “That’s disgusting,” he told me. “Should young girls have their sex organs removed to prevent the possibility of ovarian cancer? Putting young dogs through surgery, major surgery for females, at a young age is unethical, and I can’t believe your veterinary profession advocates it.”

That was in the 80’s, a long time ago, but this perspective has been bubbling up for years and is beginning to get more attention in the U.S. Along with canine nutrition, I know of few topics that elicit as much passion as this one. I wrote a long post about the costs and benefits of spay-neutering in 2013, with a similar beginning to this one, which elicited 182 comments. The same year, Whole Dog Journal had an excellent article by Denise Flaim about the controversy, because it was becoming a hot issue within the dog world.

I bring it up again because America’s ubiquitous spay-neuter policies are now being discussed in broader circles. Best-selling author and researcher Alexandra Horowitz is reaching an audience far outside of the “dog fancy” in her new book, Our Dogs, Ourselves with a chapter titled “Against Sex”. She landed an Op Ed piece in the New York Times titled “Dogs Are Not Here for Our Convenience“. And in a great example of “words matter,” she uses the term de-sex rather than spay-neuter, to be clear about what we are actually doing.

In her book she begins by saying that not spaying or neutering a pet is considered a synonym for “irresponsible owner”.  As she says, noting that author Ted Kerasote was compared unfavorably to dog fighter Michael Vick for keeping his dog Pukka intact, “To compare an owner’s decision not to remove his dog’s testicles to the willful and giddy electrocution and methodical torture of dogs is to feel very, very sure about the importance of de-sexing.”

Which is why most shelter and humane society workers, who deal with unwanted dogs and cats every minute, every day, every month, are strong advocates for spay-neuter policies. After all, the data is overwhelming that the number of dogs and cats euthanized in this country has plummeted: “In the 1960s, about one quarter of the dog population was still roaming the streets (whether owned or not) and 10 to 20-fold more dogs were euthanized in shelters compared to the present.” ( From Rowan and Kartal 2018). Surely those policies have been successful, right?

And yet, some say that the change is not as much about spay-neuter policies as many believe. Horowitz and others argue that other changes have had more of an effect, and that the spay neuter mantra begun in the 1970’s was not the driving force of the large decrease in animals euthanized.

Here’s my question to you: Do you feel differently about spaying or neutering your dog or cat than you did, say, ten years ago? If you are ready to leap over the falls with me and discuss it, here are some rules of engagement: 1. Hang on to your hats. 2. Polite, respectful conversations only. 3. Please discuss with your dog.

Certainly, we now know more about the physical costs to spaying and neutering than we did before, especially if done early in life. Beyond the risk of major surgery, we know that the hormones produced by the sex organs are integral to the health of the mammalian body, far beyond their role in reproduction. Without these hormones–estrogen and testosterone and progesterone especially–the body can not develop normally, nor can it necessarily function as well as it could have. Thus the research that shows early de-sexing (to use the European term) substantially increases, for example, the risk of joint disease and cancer in Golden Retrievers. Of course, there is also data that shows rates of mammary cancer in females is decreased after spaying, as is the risk of pyometra, an infection of the uterus. It goes without saying that removing body parts that might later be susceptible to a medical problem eliminates the medical problem. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t cause others.

And then there’s the behavioral issue, including the behavior of the animals’ owners and the pets themselves. Horowitz argues that it is simply unethical to de-sex dogs and cats and put the responsibility for population control on them. She makes the point that spay-neuter is not only less common in many other countries, it was actually illegal in much of Scandinavia until just recently. She reports that only 7% of dogs in Sweden are spayed or neutered.

Beyond reproductive behavior, there is the fact/belief that intact males and females behave differently, and more problematically than spayed or neutered ones. I can tell you that the only cases I remember in which one dog tried to kill another in the same home involved intact animals. I also can tell you that Cool Hand Luke was an intact male, and worked, with grace, dignity and benevolence, dog-dog aggression cases with me for years. He not only never got into a fight, he could be counted on to prevent them. And that most of the dogs at sheepdog trials are intact, are often off leash, and are managed such that conflict happens so rarely I can’t remember the last incident.

And so, as we all know, we’re really talking about our behavior here. Horowitz writes: “To address the overpopulation of unwanted dogs, we do not address the overpopulation. Instead, we non sequitur: we take brand new dogs and introduce them into our homes by first putting them through surgery at six, four or even three months of age. These new, sexless puppies are at once our projections into the future and our ducking of the past: Here! we say, In the future there will be fewer unwanted dogs! As for our past misdeeds, we are quiet.”

I’d like to hear about you, and your experience. We could all moan about how irresponsible others are, but I don’t want to go there, unless we are talking about practical solutions. “We need to educate people better” is a wonderful thought, but it’s not enough. I’d most like to know about YOU. How do you feel now? Have your practices changed? I’ll start by saying that I did have Maggie spayed, but much later in life than I would have if I’d gotten her ten years ago. And that when she came back from surgery, clearly in a great deal of pain while between pain medications, I felt awful. Truly awful that I had put her through that. I’m not sure I’ll do it again.

So . . . where are you on this?

MEANWHILE, back on the farm: Just back from yet another sheepdog trial, also one with mixed results. The course was much smaller, but tough because the wind was gusting over 20 mph and the sheep were woolly freight trains running to the ‘exhaust pens’. Maggie’s first run was not a thing of beauty. Of most concern was that she fixated on the sheep behind her in the exhaust pen; a habit she just began this summer that I think is related to being stressed. “These sheep are closer and much less scary than the ones waaaay far away, so I’ll go to them.” I did get her off of them and into a nice outrun and lift, but her fetch was curvy and sloppy, and the sheep literally won on the first leg of the drive. Maggie simply could not win, and the judge said “Thank You” just as I was about to retire her myself.

Lots and lots of dogs had a massive amount of trouble that day, and I wouldn’t have been too concerned except that Maggie spurted brown water diarrhea within a few feet of leaving the course. Classic stress colilitis. That, combined with this new habit of looking for sheep close by rather than the ones she was supposed to find, worried me that Maggie was having too hard a time. The Midwest Championship was so challenging, and here we were at another especially tough trial, right after moving her up into this difficult, advanced class. After reviewing the entire summer, and how she’d been doing and what she’d been asked to do, I decided that for our second run I would set up a win. (I hoped.) I’d begin as usual with an outrun, lift and fetch, and then voluntarily leave the post before she got into trouble on the drive.

Those 3 parts of the run are called the ‘gather,’ and it’s the part at which Maggie excels. I so wanted her to have a win, and feel happy to play at her favorite sport and feel confident and motivated to play some more. The day was less windy and the sheep were more cooperative. I sent her on her outrun, and a few yards into it she glanced to the far left, behind her, to the sheep in the exhaust pen. My heart sunk for a moment, but YAY!, she turned her head back and did a perfect outrun, a gorgeous lift and  “the best fetch of the day” accordingly to another handler.  I will say myself that it was pretty gorgeous. She took control of the sheep the second she made contact and kept them in a dead-on straight line for the first 2/3 of the fetch. She bobbled a little before the fetch gates, but we got them back on line and made the fetch gates, for a truly beautiful fetch. Once the sheep were at my feet I threw up my arms and said Whooo Hooo! Good girl Maggie.” And then left the field to surprised onlookers who no doubt wondered what the hell I was doing.

I honestly will never know if that was exactly the right thing to do. The sheep were moving so well that I’d say we had 50/50 odds of actually having our best run of the summer. But I figured that the cost of it not going well was far higher than the benefit of a success. I’m thinking of this first season as the one in which Maggie and I learn as much as we can, rather than the one in which we score as well as we can. All I can say is that Maggie seemed truly happy, she worked sheep at home the next day with enthusiasm and commitment. And oh yeah, that I am so proud of her for hanging in there with me in this crazy adventure. Thanks Maggie, did I mention how much I love you? (Two more trials this season coming up in October. I’ll keep you posted.)

This weekend’s trial was at the Jefferson County Sheep and Wool Festival. I took a lovely break enjoying the interesting sheep and beautiful things for sale:

And, oh yeah: I went to a sheepdog trial and a wedding broke out. Friends and trial hosts John and Hixie surprised everyone by getting married at the handler’s meeting on Saturday morning. Best wedding ever. I was too obsessed with sneaking the bride a bouquet (I got a tip the night before) to take my camera, but getting married in barn boots and old jeans has got to be the newest thing. Congratulations friends, may all your trials be sheep ones.

          Poop4U Blog via www.Poop4U.com Trisha, Khareem Sudlow

[ismael37olson]

A Potent, Little Metaphor

In the late 1980s, I wrote a musical called Attempting the Absurd, about a young man who has figured out he's only a character in a musical and doesn't actually exist, and that knowledge causes him lots of grief. Ultimately, he wins the day by producing the script for Attempting the Absurd. I recently published the script and vocal selections for the show on Amazon, and I described the show as "meta before meta was cool." But you know who did meta way before any of us? Gilbert and Sullivan. Their operettas frequently referred to themselves and occasionally to each other, and more than that, half their agenda was mocking the conventions of opera, as they used them. Since we did our public reading of The Zombies of Penzance in January, I've been reading books about Gilbert & Sullivan, and seeking out videos of their shows (I highly recommend anything from Opera Australia). I had seen some of their shows, but I'm discovering the others now as well.

And what I realize is that half the G&S agenda is mocking polite society, politics, and human nature; and the other half is writing operas that mock opera. Gilbert's lyrics mock opera (with wildly inverted sentences, overblown imagery), Sullivan's music mocks opera (the repetition, the bombast, the self-indulgence, and once in a while, forty notes to one syllable), and the two of them together mock opera's seriousness, it's pomposity, its faux exoticism. Gilbert and Sullivan "broke" old-fashioned opera. They laid bare the silly conventions and cliches by both using and abusing them all at the same time. In term's of today's musical theatre, we might call G&S shows neo musical comedies, in the language of opera. In fact, I think that's what I called Jerry Springer the Opera when we produced it. Writing The Zombies of Penzance was technically very hard for me, but it wasn't hard conceptually. I get G&S and I've been in love with The Pirates of Penzance since I saw Kevin Kline do it on Broadway in the early 1980s -- just a few years before I started writing Attempting the Absurd, now that I think about it. It was enormously fun getting into Gilbert's voice with this show. Writing the dialogue in his voice was a breeze, but writing lyrics in his style is insanely difficult. Here's one of my favorite moments of dialogue:

FREDERIC: Oh, would that you could render this extermination unnecessary by accompanying me back to civilization! No doubt the doctors and scientists have by now concocted an antidote, or failing that, they could cut all your heads off with a clean, sharp knife. KING: No, Frederic, no, no, no, that cannot be. I don’t think much of this tedious, soulless, shadow life we endure, but contrasted with the forty-hour work week, it is comparatively fulfilling. No, Frederic, I shall live and die – and then live again and likely die again – a Zombie King!

But Gilbert wrote some incredibly complex rhymes, and I'm pretty sure I kept every rhyme scheme he set up, interior rhymes and all. This is my rewrite of "Climbing Over Rocky Mountain."

We’re Christian girls on a Christian outing, No bad words and please, no shouting, Far away from male temptation carnal, Where our nethers never quiver, By the ever-throbbing river, Swollen where the summer rain Comes gushing forth; Gushing forth in spurts and sputters Sloshing through the roads and gutters, Pounding through the virgin hills below us. Scaling rough and rugged passes, Working out our shapely asses, There are greater joys, we know, in purity! Fit and healthy virgin lasses, Keeping pure our virgin asses, There are greater joys, we know…!

The one exception to my fidelity is in "Modern Era Zombie Killer," where I added one syllable to the title phrase though it still scans to the music correctly.

I am the very model of a modern-era zombie killer, I can cut off heads and yet be gentle as a caterpillar. Since the early days when the initial virus circulated, When you think of me, you think of walking dead decapitated. I’m very well acquainted, too, with matters metaphysical, I understand the issues, both the obvious and quizzical. If I could slaughter zombies, I would cross the River Styx for them. I’ve seen Romero’s movies and I’ve memorized all six of them! I like to make them suffer but I don’t think they can feel a lot; Decapitation’s fun, I know, but zombies really squeal a lot! In short, I can be fearsome or be gentle as a caterpillar; I hereby present myself, a modern-era zombie killer.

But I don't think I changed anything else (other than making it into a zombie story). Despite the wacky origin story, I want Zombies to be as authentic a G&S show as this fanboy can make it. But now as we're blocking the show, I realize, this is a really different kind of performance for the actors. There are so many songs and sections of songs in which the characters turn to the audience and explain the situation, their opinion of it, what they want, etc. Sometimes at great length. For musical theatre actors, that's so unnatural, to just stand and explain.

But as I think about it, I realize that's exactly what Threepenny does. Next to Normal does it a lot, also Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, High Fidelity, and so many other shows. Even Sweet Smell of Success, which we produced last season. In these shows, the actor has to be both (or alternately) inside the scene and outside the scene -- but still the character either way -- both narrating and living through the moment, both in the place and time of the story, but also aware of and talking to the audience. That's a hell of a tightrope. Also, like the original G&S show, we have a small stage and a relatively big cast, so staging is limited when everybody's onstage -- which is the last 10-15 minutes of both acts. I know being so physically static onstage for such a long time also feels weird to the actors. But having seen a lot of G&S shows now, they really do work this way. The music and text are so funny, and the plot is so insane, that the audience doesn't get bored in the least. The audience needs time to focus just on the words.

In fact, G&S shows usually follow a rule I learned from Hal Prince -- the more complex the content, the less active the scene should be physically. Think of brilliant musical theatre moments like "Being Alive," "The Ladies Who Lunch," "I'm Still Here," "Rose's Turn"... there's not a lot of movement, because there's so much going on emotionally, narratively, thematically. If we make the audience choose between visuals and content, they'll choose visuals. Humans are visual creatures. We have to make them choose content sometimes -- well, often in a G&S show. So our actors have all kinds of obstacles thrown at them this time. To find that neo musical comedy style, exaggerated, highly stylized, but still really honest -- that's not always easy (especially when you're playing an unusually high-functioning zombie). To find that reality that contains both the crazy inside world of our story and also our performance and audience. To get comfortable in the slow telescoping time of opera, even slower than musical theatre time. The scripts for musicals are much shorter than scripts for plays, because it takes longer to sing words than to speak them, because music operates on a different kind of time, a slower time. In musical theatre, actors learn to live inside those extended moments of time, fully alive but staying in that moment, that emotion, that reaction. Opera slows time down even more, because the music is even less in constant service of the storytelling. And Gilbert and Sullivan sometimes slow time down opera time even more than that, to mock the repetition and narrative pace of opera. Mabel's first entrance in Pirates/Zombies is one example. So are both act finales. So the challenge for our actors is to create an interesting performance not in physical zombie shtick as much as in character, reaction, backstory, social context, and our wonderfully absurd set of circumstances. The idea of zombies eating, then marrying these girls has to seem to be a Very Serious Matter Altogether. 'Cause really, are marriage-friendly zombies any more ridiculous than man-eating flytraps? The secret to Little Shop is for the actors to take it totally seriously, to believe that Audrey II is a genuine threat. The material takes care of the funny. It's the same for us. But our guys are playing zombies, after all. They have to be recognizably zombies. Zombies who sing operetta, including patter songs. Even though they can't walk very well. Because, did I mention, they're zombies.

All this reminds me of a great, weird show we produced called Bukowsical. The central joke of the show is that it tells the dark, ugly, cynical life story of the brilliant American writer Charles Bukowski, but in the most inappropriate form possible, a cheery, colorful, upbeat musical comedy. And that's essentially what The Zombies of Penzance is. It's a horror story told in the most inappropriate form possible, a bouncy, dry-humoured British comic opera. And that wrongness, the frequent self-reference, the mismatch of form and content, and the constant violations of period (even though we're pretending this was written in 1878) are all part of the meta joke.

My zombie hunting habits, though a potent, little metaphor, Are really more subversive than the critics give me credit for. In nineteenth cent’ry operetta, comedy or thriller, I am still the very model of a modern-era zombie killer!

We're telling the audience Gilbert and Sullivan wrote Zombies in 1878, but as you watch the show, we're constantly reminding you that Gilbert couldn't have possibly written these references to movies, to George Romero, to Pepto Bismal or the Aqua Teen Hunger Force, and he certainly never would have used the word fuck, which our show does a few times.

The fact that I rewrote Pirates as Zombies, and then concocted a ridiculously meta origin story, means it's a meta meta musical. It was already self-aware as Pirates, but now The Zombies of Penzance carries with it, every second, an awareness of Pirates, and for people who know Pirates well, there's even more fun to be had there, in how close to the original my "translation" often is. Meanwhile, our actors will find their way. They always do. We often do shows that are just so weird or so unique in their particular rules that it takes the actors a while to figure out how it all ticks and how they fit into that clockwork. Luckily, they all trust me, so I just keep moving forward and they keep lumbering along beside me. So much fun ahead. The adventure continues. Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/08/a-potent-little-metaphor.html

[barry429484077-blog]

mature and natural - I Don't Want To Spend This Much Time On Hot Nude Milfs. How About You?

You come across lots of people in your life, and some you know instantly that you will be connected to them, always. It’s rarely clear what type of connection that will be. It can manifest as love, lust, fantasy- they can live forever as memory even if you only spent a moment with them. Of course, I would not dare to insult your intelligence, dear reader, by not implying the opposite of that spectrum also exists- be it obsession, sorrow, or hate. My dear friend Sissy was one of these connections. We had met at the tender ages of 15, and 14 respectively. We hit it off amazingly and became fast friends. Sissy was not particularly attractive. She weighed 250lbs or greater on a 5’8 frame. She had a round face and long brunette hair that she always pulled back into a pony tail. Sissy was gay, she knew it- but this was back in the early 90’s where it was somewhat accepted but rarely spoken of. Sissy is often the smartest person in the room, and she has a talent for writing and word-smithing. She honed this talent as we grew older, and began to sexually mature, She would weave grandiose tales of her many lovers- both men and women. She would go into such amazing details of her sexcapades, and my 17 year old mind gave no resistance suspending that disbelief. Although we constantly talked about sex, strategized how to hit on girls we liked and such, we never took the plunge with each other. I was moderately attractive, charming and smart- chasing skinny, pretty girls. I’ll admit, it was a shallow time of my life. I also was not particularly attracted to her. Around my sophomore year in college, she came to visit me. I was going to college about 2 hours from the city we grew up in. It was not the first time she visited me while i was away. Whenever Sissy came around, we would get absolutely wasted- there was always a party going on, and those parties always had beer, coke, acid, liquor, weed, pills,, whatever you liked., One night, after a few beer and a bong rip or two, we were sitting in my dorm, listening to music. The dorm had bunk-beds and she was hanging on the bottom. "I’m really horny, Max.", she said. It hadn’t really occurred to me that I could have sex with Sissy. To be honest, although i suspended my disbelief during her stories, I never did believe them. "Sissy, I don’t know what to say, I’m not all that attracted to you, you know?" "Max, I KNOW how much you like getting your dick sucked"- she was right. This was and is my absolute favorite sexual activity. If you have any questions relating to in which and how to use mature young, you can get hold of us at our web site. In school, I had a reputation for being an "oral guy". That meant a girl could come over and suck me off, I would reciprocate, and she would be on her way. I was a great fit for girls who didn’t want to have penetration sex yet, or with me, per se, but still wanted to fool around. "That’s true", I replied, "what are you asking?" "I suggest we make a trade- I’ll suck your dick, and you eat me out." I considered it for what felt like an eternity. Did I want to add this layer to our friendship, was I interested in her sexually, would I function properly if I wasn’t into it? I had never been with a supple girl before and wasn’t sure if I wanted to. In the end, my curiosity and sense of adventure guided me and I decided to go for it. I took down my pants, and underwear and revealed my cock. I hope, dear reader, that you not find me boastful when I say that I was blessed with a magnificent design- Long and thick, but not overly so, straight as an arrow at the base and the shaft has a slight curve upward toward the head, with a proportionate helmet. For me, the phrase "you have a nice dick", or , "you have a pretty dick" was miraculously commonplace. Attached to that beauty of a tool was a average height, average weight, white male with a moderately attractive face. She took my cock in her hand and pulled it toward her. She looked me in the eyes. She had a playful look about her. The moonlight shined through my dorm room window and all I could see was her face. When she put her mouth around me the first time, and when i felt her amazing warmth envelope me, the pleasure exploded from my toes to lymph nodes- i had an epiphany; This woman, my friend, was a knockout. She worked my dick expertly. She would get it extremely wet with spit, stroke it back and forth while simultaneously swirling her tongue around the tip. I could hardly take it- I pulled my cock out of her mouth, and began to undress her. I helped her remove her shirt and bra- revealing her enormous breasts- they were perfectly formed- and her brown nipples and areolas were perfecting centered. She stood up briefly to remove her pants and underwear. She faced away from me and gave me a perfect view of her amazing ass- large and muscular- apple shaped= and her glistening pussy was inviting me. I grabbed her ass, rubbing my dick between her ass cheeks. She smiled and said "that wasn’t the deal, Max". She turned around and took my dick back into her mouth. This time, she was not playing. She grabbed my balls, and took my as deep into her mouth as possible. She spit, gagged, choked, coughed, whimpered, moaned- all the while stroking my cock and massaging my balls. I don’t have to tell you, I’m sure, that up skirts mature after a few minutes of sexual eternity, my balls began to tighten- and 10 or 12 ropes of hot white cum came spurting out of me. It was, by far, one of the best orgasm’s of my life. After a moment of basking in the post orgasmic peace, I knew that I needed to complete the deal- and I couldn’t wait. "Sissy", I said, "That was incredible. I’m going to eat your pussy now" "Max", she said, "I know you are not into me. I really just wanted to blow you. Don’t worry about me". "Sissy, I am going to lick your pussy in about 10 seconds. If you don’t want that, get up and leave the room" I backed off and waited. At the count of 10, I dove face first into her pussy. It smelled incredible- warm and musky, like woman, like life. I kissed her tights, cupped her ass, and finally, touched the tip of my tongue to her swollen clit. She shivered and yelped. She grabbed my hair and ears. She was ready. It was time to get to work. I fucked her with my tongue, darting it in and out of her pussy, forceful, then soft. I kissed her lips, sucked on them, ran my tongue up her clit. I worked her clit softly, applied pressure, made circles- i used every method I had heard about and some I was improvising on the spot. She squealed and cried, moaned and laughed- i let her guide me and eventually, I got to her place. I took her clit in my mouth and began to suck it. The constant pressure and friction hit the right spot and she began to write underneath me. She was so powerful, I could hardly hold her down. I kept the pressure on and tickled the entry to her cunt with my fingers. She was extremely wet. I faintly heard her whisper "ok". I sank my fingers into her pussy- they took them in willingly and immediately. I began to finger fuck her slowly, while sucking her clit, and then I felt her pussy walls begin to spasm around me. The force was so strong I couldn’t pull my fingers out. Eventually she lifted my head from in between her legs and i removed my finger from her. She cupped my face, with content in her eyes and said, "Max, I love you, but I ain’t going to kiss you. We’re friends, that would be weird". We snuggled together, falling asleep, satiated and happy. Prologue: We only played one other time- a friend of mine fucked her while she sucked my dick. We have remained friends all these years. We have told the story to our wives and look back on it fondly /u/p0rnhound420