#i will inevitably seesaw back and forth again

[the--highlanders]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion Meme: Something good about your least favourite Doctor. And maybe your favourite Doctor too, just so you have an excuse to talk about them if you like :D

oh interesting!

there’s a couple of Doctors I connect with less than others but I’m going to go with Ten for this (I know this is meant to be a positivity thing but for context - I don’t enjoy the jesus-figure writing, plus I associate him with being a teenager in the superwholock years and people trying to emulate that super-snarky-genius character gjfk)

only... I want to like him! because I really like David Tennant as an actor! I think he’s great in Broadchurch! at the end last year he got cast as a voice actor in my fave game/a spinoff show and I’m massively excited for it!! I was going to go for the ‘no missed opportunities’ version of this meme but you know what I’ll say it. I wish they had’ve let him keep his accent for Ten.

and writing decisions aside, there’s something about him that’s just very likeable. I see gifsets on tumblr and I think ‘oh, that’s such a good bit’. I rewatch episodes and I enjoy them. there’s a lot of episodes from his era that I genuinely love (I have very fond memories of just having gotten into Torchwood, going on holiday without access to the internet/without having bought the dvds yet, and just. rewatching The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End over and over for the Torchwood content ghfjkd). so whenever I rewatch I always feel like I dislike Ten in theory and because of the things I associate him with more than because of what he actually is.

& then my favourite Doctor is obviously Two. who very much is the Doctor to me. I remember earlier in Thirteen’s run a lot of people were wanting for her to get darker, and I was a bit like, no!! let me have a relatively happy fun Doctor again, please!! Two’s fun and friendly and has great found family dynamics with all his companions and he’s personable in a weird sort of way. like, he’s not necessarily likeable in the same way Ten is, he just carries on doing his own thing (sometimes oblivously) until people can’t help but go along with him. which now I think of it seems quite like Eleven (probably deliberately so and, hey, coincidence, Eleven was my favourite new series Doctor for a loong time) - like, that bit in A Christmas Carol where Eleven tells Kazran his bow tie is cool because he wears it and he doesn’t care what people think? Two is that, but not articulated so openly.

but then he also... isn’t entirely cuddly. he’ll send a fleet of Ice Warriors into the sun without a second thought. he doesn’t seem too worried about Salamander being sent into the vortex. he’ll bash a guy over the head and joke about it. and unlike later Doctors, he never seems to angst over it, like he can justify it to himself. his philosophy is probably the definition of ‘total tolerance requires some intolerance’. he figures it’s morally okay because he’s helping people. which is something that the Doctor doesn’t get to do much anymore, and I wonder if it’s because there’s still a little bit of ‘we don’t quite know what the Doctor is and he’s slightly untrustworthy’ about him. but it’s interesting. and it’s often been said that he settles down after meeting Jamie - and he does! and Evil of the Daleks very much shows Jamie as his moral compass. but for all that Jamie has a super strong set of moral codes, they also happen to include ‘it’s ok to bash someone over the head sometimes’. there’s literally a short story where Jamie almost throws someone out of the TARDIS because he thinks they’ve killed Two. so they probably feed into each other with that.

on the other hand Patrick Troughton’s portrayal of him is just so littered with tiny mannerisms and characteristics and he really shows how much input the actors got to have with those sorts of things in the early series, because he feels so organic. he’s kind to Victoria when she’s grieving, and he can relate to that grief. he plays cards when he’s cornered by soldiers. he’s from an alien planet and (badly) pilots a time machine but he hates computers. he’s vain and thinks he looks wonderful but is a complete mess. he’s alien in all sorts of ways, but still feels very much like a person.

[worldsover]

Fermata ft. Chuu

length ✦ 5651

genres ✧ Dal Segno sequel; dirty talk; oral; makeup fetish; more subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You write to keep your concentration and disconnect you from your ever-changing concerns. For all your ideas, the true crux of putting a piece together is actually making something concrete. The self-control you require to be consistent, and consistently creative, is what makes music so hard to stay focused on. This album must be finished. This year. No written promises but you have to do right by her after all you've invested. You fucked Jiwoo in the mouth yesterday. Real right of you to do.

“Coming!” Jiwoo must be far from the front door with how her holler resounds the apartment. Where do you put your hands? Pockets are natural though they don't feel like it. Many but not enough footsteps grow in loudness but you expect a stampede anyway when the door opens. Instead, only Yerim and Sooyoung manifest in the opening hallway.

“Hello, oppa! Jiwoo unnie is just… Umm. Taking care of business.” Yerim playfully elbows you when she pulls you in but you stop her to take your shoes off. Sooyoung sends a brusque wave your way and not much else as she collects assorted effects and clothing around the living room. There isn’t nearly as much noise as you expect.

Look around in confusion. “Did I miss something? Is today a holiday?”

“Jiwoo isn’t the only one who’s got schedules, PD-nim,” Sooyoung says.

Yerim turns around. She also has some nicer pants on, and a loose-fitting red top. “Unnie, you’re just visiting your family.”

“And that’s a schedule.”

“Well oppa, I have a CF to film so, ha!” Yerim raises a hand, victorious she just won the conversation. High five. She’s satisfied but Sooyoung gives no regard, clearly looking for something.

“What about the other girls?” you ask.

“I’m not a manager. Just count yourself lucky the dorm is so empty.” Yerim says.

“Damn, we can even record some demos too. Good thing I brought the mic. Hold on, before you guys go, wanna listen to some of our songs?” you say.

“Finally!” Yerim says.

“Just play it out loud, I can hear it,” Sooyoung says. You offer your help with whatever she’s searching for though she brushes you off and insists she can do it herself.

Yerim brings out a bluetooth speaker from underneath the living room couch and coughs because of whatever dust she just procured.

Pull out your Macbook from your backpack and connect it to the speaker. You think about which track to play and pick the one that shows off Jiwoo’s voice the best so far, Jiwoo - Deeper.

Yerim immediately gets into the beat, bobbing her head and dancing. However, when the chorus hits, her ears perk up and she starts cheering at the notes that Jiwoo belts. Sooyoung also turns an ear towards the speaker in curiosity.

A vacuum interrupts the music. Jiwoo swoops in with the machine, scurrying her shapely legs with no heed to their bareness. She pushes up her fake circle glasses and says over the commotion, “I knew you needed this! Oppa, hello!”

“I’m trying to listen to the music here!” Yerim covers her ears.

Sooyoung looks down and pauses at the edge of the couch. “Oh hey, there’s my bracelet! Really nice music by the way!”

“Wow, you guys are so kind.” Jiwoo says, her voice piercing the screaming vacuum without effort. She turns it off realizing she's the only one can really do so. “You still like the music now?”

“No unnie, I mean it,” Yerim says.

“Why are you wearing just that big tracksuit sweater? Do you even have shorts on?” you interrupt the gushing. Jiwoo turns around and hugs herself as if she dropped a towel, even though her immodesty comes from her lower body. Good thing no one notices her sweater ride up for a moment to reveal white panties. Sooyoung looks at you confused while Yerim smirks to match yours. She wasn't even looking at Jiwoo but she could probably tell from your face. Damn, she’s too perceptive.

“Well, it looks like that’s my cue to go,” Yerim says.

“I’m so confused,” Sooyoung looks back and forth at you and the other two girls in the room. You shrug your shoulders, pretending to take solace in her ignorance of the situation.

“Come on unnie, we’ll go together. I’ll go out to get money and you go out to get your kisses from mommy and daddy.” Somehow that didn’t sound too offensive but Sooyoung punches Yerim anyway.

“Oppa, can you finish vacuuming for me?” You’re about to make a retort about labor laws but Jiwoo runs to the bathroom and immediately you hear Jiwoo practicing melodic runs. They’re definitely not the ones you taught her, unless moaning was part of the routine.

“So she has to get her vocal cords ready too huh? I’m suuure that’s all she’s doing in there.” Yerim keeps poking at your bicep with two fingers. You turn on the vacuum to try and hide her overt naughtiness but Yerim’s devilish look tells enough. For full measure, she winks at you as she drags Sooyoung out of the dorm. Mental note to deal with that can of worms for later.

Head to the big bedroom where Jiwoo’s still doing vocal exercises. Three bunk beds line the walls while pillows, blankets and bean bags litter the floor. As the centrepiece of the room sits a simple wooden table, short enough to rest on the polystyrene filled chairs while adequately comfortable to get work done. She stands proud on top of the table as she practices the actual runs you tell her to do.

“Oh, oh, ohhhhh, oh, ohhhhppa!” She jumps down from the table and nearly tackles you when she locks her legs around you in a hug. Take a second to balance yourself while holding her as tightly as possible.

“Jiwoo, you’re eager today.”

“Of course I am, oppa. I’m soooo excited to. Record. Of course.”

“Well if you are, please get off of me.”

“Oppa! You don’t like my hugs?” she says nearly falsetto. Her aegyo throws you off, so you throw her off. Onto a bean bag. “I guess that’s a no.”

“No, not no. I mean. We have to be focused, Jiwoo. Is there any rope or anything?”

“You just said we have to be focused, oppa.”

You wave your hands in denial. “What’d I say about acoustics?”

“Ohhh, like the foam at the studio?”

“Exactly. Especially with how big this room is, we’re going to have to need all the insulation we can get. Ahhh!” Your random shout rumbles throughout the room and startles the relaxing Jiwoo. 

She stands up. “I get it! Geez.”

“Oh yeah, I need a pop filter too.”

“A thin fabric right? For all the p-p-plosives.”

“Mhm.”

Inevitable. Jiwoo takes off her panties and you shake your head laughing in disapproval.

“Come on now, that’s just not sanitary,” you say.

“So you’re saying you don’t want them?”

“No, I’ll just confiscate them for your stupidity. Tsk. Find some pantyhose.“ She gets up. “Ahem. Not used.”

The panties have a tiny wet spot, and your nose takes a quick bask in its musk but Jiwoo immediately catches you.

“And I’m too horny,” Jiwoo says with characteristic sass. You put it in your pocket as she gets pantyhose from her drawer. After fashioning a stand for the pantyhose for her to sing into, you both get to work hanging up blankets from the bunk beds while clotheslines become pillow-lines. A makeshift room within a room, still centered by the table but now surrounding you with cushioning cloth instead of acoustically reflective drywall.

Barely enough space for jumping jacks but you start doing them anyway and it flummoxes Jiwoo for a moment. You don’t need to tell her to join in. Sit down to play an instrumental from the laptop and she pauses the exercise before you motion for her to continue. 

“I need you with the right energy for the beat.”

“Yeah, I figured. Synthwave is really popular now, huh?” Her bouncing to the rhythm rides her hoodie up again but now her cute slit and bare legs are plain to see. Your tongue dries your lips. She catches her breath before stretching one last time. Keep it together. “So are we recording?” 

You nod. Take out the microphone and two pairs of in ear monitors for listening, and connect all the devices to the computer. After setting everything up, Jiwoo gets up and you hold the microphone and filter for her.

Click. “Aaand, recording.”

Click. “One more.”

But that’s it. Two takes. You could not get a better sounding Jiwoo than that. Not a quick demo but the actual release vocal track, since even in such an imperfect recording environment, it sounds perfect to your ears. A little frustration since where was this Jiwoo in all the previous sessions? Maybe you’ll have to consider more visits for recording though you’re not sure if you could make another miracle happen to have everyone else out of the dorm at the same time.

“Jiwoo, that was a- Dammit, that was perfect,” you say.

“Of course, it was!” Not that there’s much room in the improvised recording studio but she ensures you feel even less of it when she gets closer. “Sooo. Wanna fuck my face?”

“That’s not the arrangement! You didn’t mess up.” 

“You definitely sound disappointed I did a good job,” Jiwoo says.

”Of course I’m not disappointed.” You sigh. Are we doing this again? A single flitter of her brows. “I’m not going to fuck your face this time, okay? You have to be able to take that dick all the way down yourself.”

No protests. She lowers her head once in gratitude. 

"Thank you for the meal!" Jiwoo says as she shows off her pearly whites in a big smile. She turns her head up to look at you lovingly as she cups your balls with her hands before she lowers her head again for a precursory smooch onto your cock. This time, she gives the same slow care to your shaft with her lips as she is to your balls with her hands. As if she wasn't going to ruin her makeup.

Restraining your panting and cries of ecstasy is arduous enough with Jiwoo engulfing you when-

“Kim Jiwoo!” Sooyoung’s voice reverberates from maybe the living room or the foyer.

Jiwoo side-eyes the study door. Her head does not stop its seesaw. Is this girl so entranced by your cock that she feels not an ounce of dread?

Sooyoung yells, “I forgot something! Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back later with dinner!”

“Okay! Thanks! We’re busy,” you choke on your words as Jiwoo does the same on your dick, “Uh, listening to the mix!”

Sooyoung, still shouting, but attempting to say lower, “Sorry! I’ll go now. Bye.”

Wait a few minutes before getting up, and of course Jiwoo’s lips are still wrapped around your cock as you walk towards the door. Dorm is empty. She must have performed magic taking off her shirt and underwear to play with herself because you can't remember if she's ever stopped sucking you off. The kinematics don't add up. More likely, you’re slightly faint from her perilous suction, making left and right difficult directions to parse from each other.

"Fuck you're already so good, Jiwoo." 

Pull her up and carry her to deposit onto the bottom bunk of the bed by the window.  She ends up belly diving onto the mattress’ surface and her buttcheeks recoil just the slightest bit.  Jiwoo notices and starts giggling when she plays around with her perky cheeks.

"You like my ass, oppa?" Nod.

“I said I wasn’t going to fuck your face today. Fuck. Maybe I’ll fuck you there instead,” you say in a low bass.

Her eyes turn into full moons at your suggestion. You laugh. 

”Naughty fucking girl. Next time, when you’re a good girl. Such a fun ass though.” Follow through with the compliment as you line up your cock to the prone girl’s mouth, arcing down to fondle her round buns. It's a miracle and also a bit embarrassing that your erection is soft after all that. Best guess is that it's had so much stimulation, but all of the masturbation after recalling your previous facefuck probably didn't help. Jiwoo takes her index and middle digits and raps them on your cock to a freeform beat.

“Aww oppa, your cock. I need to make it big and meaty again,” Jiwoo whines and her pout confesses that she's a little disheartened, however her eyes are more determined.

“Tell me all the ways you want me to use you." She raises her vivid eyebrows and lists her head a little forward. “Okay, miss ‘I won’t let go of this cock even when there’s others in the house’. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. Just relax and go on.”

“Hmph. Fine. Well, your dick is right here, sooo after I lick it up,” which she begins doing by inspecting your shaft with intent, before finding a spot she deems scrumptious enough to lap up. “You fuck this dirty mouth pussy clean while I play myself on my tummy just like this.”

Jiwoo sounds ridiculous talking with her tongue out but at the same time, her cheeky lisp fortifies your cock. Her hands wander underneath herself and she reels back, titillated by her own words. You watch the small woman fondling herself with both hands while your erection at half-mast presses against her face in suspense.

“I could flip myself over and I’d never let go of oppa’s cock, I promise, then you could see your bulge in my fuck hole.”

How could this girl talk so filthy? Her face doesn’t even look like it should utter the word darn, yet here she is giving a study of her throat’s distension from your dick.

Jiwoo continues, one hand rubbing her clit fervently, “Then, maybe. Maybe oppa could get on top of me and pretty please eat my little pussy out while he shoves his cock into me?”

You couldn’t just stand idly by, though it wouldn’t be the worst with how her mouth vibrates your cock harder as her tone gets more gravelly and hungry. When you reach down, you see her wet slit preoccupied with two fingers from her other hand. It doesn’t stop you from slipping one in the increasingly creamy hole.

“Then oppa, if you still wanna at least?” her voice shrinks, but then returns in volume as she crescendos, “You keep your mouth on my slit as you lift up my legs and your silly slut is upside down and she’s choking on your cock and Jiwoo can’t breath and all the blood rushing to her head and you cum and Jiwoo doesn’t let any of spill out cuz Jiwoo is a good slut for oppa, and oppa, oppa, please!”

You join in stroking and rubbing her squishy soaking pussy lips and she looks up from her haze.

“Kim Jiwoo.” Your voice is stern and it seems more than any physical stimulation that your deep beckon is what sends her past the edge. Her pussy swallows whole your finger still inside her, wetness replacing all sensation that the digit once had. She accompanies her whole body’s spasms with loud visceral moans. It takes more than a mere moment to close her eyes and restore her breathing. The bedroom smells a little salty from all the fluids leaking her mouth and slit.

“How much porn have you been watching?” you say.

“As much as you oppa.”

Swallow down a bit of spit. “Huh?”

“Remember our very first recording session, you forgot your laptop and I returned it to you?”

“Fuck,” you say. Jiwoo stretches and lay spread-eagle on the bed, a gooey strand connecting between her two thighs. She licks her fingers.

“You're lucky I found it. Oppa, it’s all your fault I’m like this. Plus all those fancams of me in the same folder. I wanted to confess sooner but I needed more opportunities to be with you.” She sucks her hand more earnestly.

“I didn’t think sucking dick counted as confessing.”

“Hey, I did say I like you. Did you already forget? Tsk. Typical boy.”

“Look at this dick.” You didn’t have to say that because she’s already drilling holes into it with her eyes. “Remember how I said I was basically recording for free? Make your own inferences.” The round shape of her mouth in understanding is perfect.  "Now, open wide."

"Yes! Mm..."

 It’s hard to say which position is your favorite.

Fucking her face is straightforward but you pay closer attention. You’re certainly not down that deep, as you can still feel her uvula recoil on your tip and react with thick gagged out spit. Nothing like your cum but she sucks and spits the liquid in and out anyway. She definitely enjoys playing around with fluids in her mouth.

Jiwoo pulls away when she upturns herself, as she coughs with whatever throat muscles you hit. Her head hanging upside down off the mattress would be the perfect perspective to see your cock’s imprint on her neck but she still can’t manage the depth. The angle certainly makes your pistoning easier as your balls slap against your nose in more forceful pushes, playing vulgar slapping noises that mix with her gagging.

Afterwards, you lean over and move her head to get the mattress’s support instead of dangling. Hunch down to her wetness and the taste of her nectar more than makes up for the difficulty of thrusting while on top of her. Already having difficulty breathing with a cock in her airways, you don’t want to crush her under your weight. Still, you spend the most time between her thighs, taking in the muskiness of her pussy and all that it releases. It explains Jiwoo’s long drawn breath through her nose if you have a similarly alluring scent. There’s also the possibility your length steals too much air from her wet, gagging mouth but in this position, it’s her choice to hold your shaft in her throat for that much time.

Pick her up by the ass and cup the top of Jiwoo’s cheeks. Well, now they’re the bottom as she’s upside down in this piledriver sixty-nine position, both of you sucking and licking as closely as possible. She’s definitely enjoying the scents and tastes. You could drop her on her head and she'd thank you if you kept your cock in her mouth. Maybe you heard her mumble something like “yummy”, but anything resembling consonants are far past the point of physiology and linguistics. If anything, holding Jiwoo upside down makes her look more like a used sex doll than the cute girl that she is. 

A whole lot of mess to clean up later. Cans of Febreeze, maybe some rags and a mop. New sheets, soaked with nearly every bodily fluid mouthfucking can provide. However, all that work pales to the pure torture you’ve put upon yourself to not cum.  It helps with how often you pull out of her mouth as for all her prodigal gagging, she also looks thankful when you give her moments to rest her jaw and lips. Somehow you're in control the entire time yet you have not an ounce of it, avoiding your inevitable fate. Finally, you can rest. Now you’re thankful you jerked off many times before this to last as long as you have. 

Of course, resting did mean you were on an office chair and she was on her knees, but still. It’s a break from all the exercise.

“You know oppa,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” mumbling as she often does on your erection.

“Jiwoo-ah! Wear lip gloss.” How she manages to get that out so adorably with a cock in her mouth, you will never know.

“But I figured,” bobbing down, “I was sucking you off so sloppily,” and up, “It’d be such a waste of makeup.”

The girl made a point though you say, “I’d still like to see it one time. Alright? I don’t wanna have to ask either.”

“Okayyyy.” She says as she purrs on your dick. The little devil knows how weak you are when she talks with a full mouth. You still aren’t going to succumb this time. Pulling out of her mouth is as difficult as last time but you snap your head back and you snap your head away. 

"Nooo." A familiar cry. What if she didn't even like the taste of cum? No time for questions as your body falls apart in the clashing brass and woodwinds. The obnoxious dissonance making you pulse and pulse. You aim below her neck to allow the cum to drip down her collarbones and petite tits. Rub her nipples, sticky with your load and she lets out a little squeal when you tweak them.

"Pwetty pwease oppa. Your cumdump Chuu-ah really wants your cum." She puts her pointer on her swollen cheek. God, she's too much for one man but that’s the situation you put yourself in. 

Plop. 

Plop.

"Jiwoo, please. It's so sensitive," you whimper as she keeps sucking the tip.

"You get to do whatever you want oppa."

"Fuck.” Pull Jiwoo off of you. “Maybe I will."

You collect your load from her tits as an impressive volume drips down.

"Ahh," Jiwoo says but you push her down one last time with your unstained hand and your other uses a finger to penetrate her little pussy, providing it with the semen that she desperately wants.

"I hope this is good enough for now." Her squeaks in time with each finger on your sticky hand exploring her insides confirm that it is indeed.

A step closer and your rehardening cock finds her labia, small but inviting. She gasps and shudders as you tease her pussy lips in a familiar way. It’s just as sensitive for her as it is for you with how much she sweats and writhes from the shaft The friction of the pussyjob is unbearable and instead of juices dripping from within her, a heavy volume of watery liquid squirts out. 

“I’m so, I’m so sorry oppa.”

“It’s okay, Jiwoo.” You put the tip in. “Doesn’t that feel so good.”

“Yes! Thank you. Awwww,” She says when you pop it out. In another world, that tip pushes past and you ravage her. But at this point, you have standards to uphold.

“Be a good girl for me and you can have more, okay?” Give her a rainbow dildo to practice with.

"Oh I already have one, oppa. This looks like it fits better though. Well I guess worse considering how much bigger it is. Just like. Yours. Fuck."

Despite all her orgasms, she looks ready to masturbate yet another time.

"We can't just cum all day Jiwoo," you say. She sighs and nods in understanding.

“Where am I gonna hide this? It really stands out.”

“Just keep it inside you.” Her eyes light up. “No wait.”

Jiwoo giggles. “C’mon oppa, they should be back any time soon.”

You finish up some final touches in your recording. There’s definitely more hitches when it comes to dealing with vocal recordings in such an improvised setting but it’s certainly not as much of a problem as looking at any of the other members in the eyes as you stay for dinner.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

tYou tend to get in a rush when you procrastinate as much as you do. It’s her first album, there’s no reason to rush her first album. Besides, the strength of any artist’s work is in their sophomore album, since they’ve had forever to work on that first one and now people are expecting the second. In either case, you really have time, but you don’t let yourself feel that. Instead, mixing and recording, once a job you enjoyed doing, has turned into a series of stressors in your life.

Jiwoo’s in a rush too. Why is she in such a rush?

“Hello. Oppa. I. Uh. Heard you got into a fender bender.” Every word sounds laborious as she opens the door to the studio. You step out into the hallway then look left and right. Nothing out of place.

“Yeah, just some scratches. You okay, Jiwoo?”

Her lips tuck in when she walks forward even a step. “Yep, doing juust fine. We gonna get to recording or what?”

“I mean if you say so.”

Each step towards the booth has her hitch her breath just a little, but she looks focused as ever so you waste no time and hit record. Should you text another member and ask if anything's off about Jiwoo today? Her singing is fine, maybe a little more vocal fry in her voice than usual, but it fits the sultry ballad.

You text Chaewon as Jiwoo keeps trying out different intonations for the pre-chorus.

Chaewon: "she was all flirty and weird today"

You: "lmao aight, tell something idk"

"yeah yeah, but this is different" 

"different how? she's always like that"

Jiwoo sees you typing and stops her singing to ask if anything's wrong. You shake your head and wave your free hand, gesturing for her to continue.

"i guess less wordy and more touchy today? good luck, lmk if you figure it out"

"i will. see ya later" 

Curious. You set your phone down and inspect Jiwoo's eyes and her crinkled nose. Hmm. 

A few hours later, you’re still recording. For how well the session at the dorm went, it feels like you’re back to square one with all of her mistakes today. She had such a good first takes too but her vocal quality is definitely receding, and in a different way than usual.

“I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back,” you say into the microphone.

You go quickly to relieve yourself. A lot of water today. Needed it looking at Jiwoo in whatever weird state she's in. For some godforsaken reason you have an urge to take her mouth right now and completely ruin her. This album is never coming out.

Slowly creak the door to the studio open. No need for surprise anymore. Jiwoo pulls out a dildo from her sobbing vagina in the vocal booth and drags it up her body. Her eyes are closed, her focus clearly on the sensation of the dildo finally removed for her. She really went through with your suggestion. Must've been in there for a while considering Chaewon noticed something off earlier today. The dildo meets Jiwoo's lips, both wet from her desire and she shoves it in as deep as she can in the first try. 

Walk towards the Macbook and notice that it's recording. Shit, how much space did you have left on it? Hopefully, not going to have to clean it up later.

Finally, her eyes open and she smiles looking at you while she touches herself with one hand and deepthroats herself with the other using the toy you gave her.  She pauses her masturbation for a moment, tapping her ear. A new audio clip in Ableton, so put on your headphones.

“Come here oppa. I did a bad job today, didn’t I?”

The only words she needs for you to drop everything and walk into the booth. 

“You did,” you say as you unbuckle.

In a single stroke, she swallows your cock, matching the reinsertion of the dildo into her pussy. Jiwoo makes a tight vacuum seal with her luscious lips and shows off how well she manages her breath. Air squeezes through in her nose as you rarely unfastened yourself from her suction, and as she rarely allowed you to. Her lips are a good cock ring, her mouth a fleshlight. At the very least, this gave you much patience with her recording, knowing you were allowed to use your frustrations to turn the talented young lady into an object to use.

It’s incredible how little she has to touch herself to achieve orgasm when your cock is in her mouth. To be fair, keeping the dildo as long as she has inside of her must be a feat of its own.

“Jiwoo. Did you have this in you all day? I bet you’d prefer it were the real thing, huh?”

“Mmmhm. Mmmm!" She convulses at once. The toy squeezes in and out of her while she moans and spills saliva all over your cock. “Fuck, I wanted to cum all day but I had to wait. It’s your turn now, right?”

Jiwoo pulls out the soaked dildo and with her little fingers teases the skin of your dick before maintaining a tight grip. Her hand’s perfect rhythm and all the sucking she’s done so far today gets you right there and over the edge as quickly as she did. You unload all over the colorful sex toy and Jiwoo doesn’t let you have time to think as she puts the cum-covered toy back inside her.

You suck in some air. ”Who said you could have that cum? Lie down on the couch.” No pretense. Is there love between you two? Pull down her spotted top before mounting her modest but perky tits. It’s been barely a minute yet you’re already ready and solid once again. She tries to lean her head forward to retrieve her oral punishment-

“Thank you!”

Reward. Now that you think about it, maybe this isn’t working. The supine girl beneath you flitters her lashes, curious as to why you haven’t yet thrust into her mouth.

“You know much I love to see you work for it. Go on.”

As your cock is standing upwards at attention, she struggles raising her head to match yours, gently poking her tongue out to lick the frenulum.

“Ahh. No fair! I can’t reach. Ppfh.” She spits on it in frustration. “Ppptt. Let me have it.”

Her tongue wiggles around fruitlessly. Spit on her face in retort and you both laugh looking at the mess you’ve made. Yet at last, after playing with her food for what feels like an eternity, Jiwoo manages to wrangle your head with her tongue, guiding it to her eager lips.

“Now I better not feel that barrier, okay? Track 1.” And slowly force your way into her throat. You feigned frustration with her inability to fully take you down, but this was heaven. Regardless, stopped by her cursed reflex, you say: 

“Not good enough.” You’d almost feel bad about this.

“Again.” If it didn’t feel so good.

“One more.” Another submersion into her sopping mouth, the friction of her soft lips and tongue opposes all the lubricating slop from her throat. 

Unsheathe. “Oppa, oppa wait. Let me get something. You’ll like it.” You concede, getting off of her, and she pulls from her purse bright red lip gloss. “Watch me stain your cock!”

In a rush, Jiwoo vandalizes her lips red. Her makeup artist would be embarrassed. Of course, that makeup artist would be outright scandalized if they could see the precious idol with her back hunched over the arm of the couch, her upside down face inviting you.

You walk up and give her a good view of your balls. Tickle her neck and she leans forward to plant a pure kiss. On your cock head. “You know we haven’t kissed once yet? You haven’t even said anything about how you feel about me!”

“Neither did you.” Move your hands from Jiwoo’s neck to her bare chest and play with her stiffening nipples.

“Well, let me show you.” She plants another smooch on your shaft. And another. Yet another, until it’s turned into a full-on makeout session with your penis. The upended Jiwoo has to twist herself to leave the entirety of your flesh marked with lipstick stains. However, her best work is her french kiss where takes your dick in and plays around with her tongue, as if the mindless beast could kiss back. She leans her head back out one more time to receive you.

A sharp push and her tiny tits respond with the subtlest jiggle. 

All but an inch of your shaft covered red. “I’m so close,” she pouts.

“Well, so am I.” You keep thrusting and feel your orgasm get closer. You’re on the edge.

“Mwah.” Her lips’ release leaves your blank head even emptier.  “Mwah mwah, mwah.” She fixes her top back and wipes around her lips.

She takes wet wipes then a mask from her purse while you stand dumbfounded. There are four walls in the room. Wires spill from your laptop. One, two, three, four. You are one beat away from orgasm.

Her voice snaps your focus back. “Oppa, that was a good recording session, but you know. Ha Rin unnie has to pick me up. Bye!” Jiwoo scampers away, wiping at her face.

You might actually explode next time, in more ways than one. Guess you deserve this one though.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Just wanted to get one more thing done before the new year so I chose this since like I said, this was originally written as one part. In fact, this is actually the very first smut I wrote. However, I kept getting stuck and adding more, so a trilogy it is then. That’s right, one last one coming up!

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 80

Aging: Part 1

I will start with the cliche: “man is born, grows, ages, and finally dies.” So this cycle of life is inevitable, although at different times in history the speed of this process has varied tremendously. In early times, when there was purity in nature, it is narrated that Prophet Noah lived for 950 years. Whether other people at the time had that long a life span is not known for certain, but this suggests that human beings lived longer lives in earlier times. Later, at some point it was reduced to a mere 30 or 40, years due to wars and diseases like the plague. Nowadays, lifespan depends on the level of prosperity in a society, ranging from 33 in Zimbabwe, for example, to 80 in Sweden. But then, why bother to avoid or prolong a life whose end is inevitable, namely death? If you consider the time needed for a human to mature and be educated, you will see that these days, people are assumed to have gained experienced after the age 30, and that the longer they live, the more wisdom they can gain and impart and the more good deeds they can accomplish for this world and the Hereafter. So prolonging the life span is not just a decadent materialistic pursuit, rather it can actually bear beneficial fruit for humanity, both spiritually and materially.

However, as one’s age increases, most bodily functions peak and then start to diminish. A better aging strategy would be to age in the healthiest possible manner; i.e., keeping the physical and mental functions as sharp as possible, in particular the memory, so as not to lose human dignity in old age.

Aging and Memory

As one ages, reactions start to slow, the speed of understanding and the level of concentration diminish. The precipitous decline of dopamine-containing neurons in the human brain after age 45 is a universal characteristic of the aging process. The nigrostriatal region of the brain is richest in dopamine and undergoes the most rapid aging of any brain area. Age-associated depletion of dopamine also accounts for less noticeable symptoms, like a decline in physical drives and brain functions. These reactions are mostly on a mental or psychological level. In addition to these, wrinkles appear in the skin, hairs gray, and joints become gnarly. Perhaps, most important of all, is that according to recent research carried out on the brain, by the time most people hit 40, their brainpower starts to weaken. This does not mean that people become incompetent, just a bit slower in the cognitive process. This phenomenon is called “generalized slowing” by psychologists. According to James Birren, the Associate Director of the Center on Aging at the University of California, Los Angeles, the first signs of aging appear on tests used to measure mental speed and acuity, in which people count the number of lights flashed on a screen, for instance, or trace a complicated pattern while looking at a mirror.

“But eventually the down-turn affects almost everything we do,” says Birren, “From how fast we hit the breaks when a car pulls in front of us to how quickly we learn new skills on the job or remember old what’s-her-name’s name.”

Then the question is whether the slowing process is unavoidable. According to psychologist Robert Dustman, the answer to this is yes. One of the country’s top experts on aging and the brain, Dustman directs the Neuropsychology Research Laboratory at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Salt Lake City. He’s just turned 70 and shows no signs of slowing down himself. “It is true that when we compare 20-year-olds with 60-year olds on almost any test that measures the speed of information processing, younger people on average score significantly better than the older ones,” he says, “But that does not have to be. There is a simple way I can ward off the scourge of slowness,” Dustman says. And the way to do this is to stay in shape.

At first it seems to go against common sense that in some way a mindless act like jogging or striding around a park is relevant to the speed of thinking. But Dustman explains the connection in a very logical way.

Every cell in the body requires a continuous supply of oxygen and nutrients to function at its peak. But surprisingly, no cells need a greater oxygen supply than the gray matter that rests between our ears. The brain, although it makes up only 2% of our body weight, uses up 25% of the glucose and oxygen supply.

Now suppose a person slips out of shape, their heart gets lazy, the arteries get clogged, the blood flow to capillaries slows down, and the oxygen and nutrient supply to the brain falls us. As a result, neurons get less than they need to function properly, the electrical signals slow down, and hence the mind slows down. A recent study shows that blood pressure (or lack of it) is highly correlated to memory; so much so that, a reduction of it causes the memory to weaken.

But getting older does not mean that one must face a full-scale slowdown, Dustman says. The problem is that by 45, when the brain is quickly falling into decline, most of us neglect to perform the activities that keep the arteries open, the heart strong, and blood flowing; namely exercise. Dustman’s own studies suggest that working out might be an antidote. In one of his studies, he ran 60 male volunteers, half in their twenties, half in their sixties, through the standard mental tests. As expected, the younger group had higher mental speeds. But when Dustman looked closely at the older group, he noticed that the ones who were exercising or had remained active had a brain speed that was comparable to that of the younger set.

The tests included actions as simple as pushing a button each time an X appeared in a long string of O’s to memorizing numbers and symbols. “On many measures,” says Dustman “the older men in good condition scored just as well as men 30 and 40 years their junior.” In real life, that is, they could find a number in a phone book or remember that sensible is a synonym for rational.

When one exercise, in other words, the sections of the brain which control movement and balance are fired up, the electrical signals zap back and forth along the nerves from the brain to the muscles and tendons. The eyes, the inner ear, and other sensory nerves all roll into action. The benefits of these can be detected clearly in the brainwaves and electrical impulses recorded by researchers.

Indeed, in Dustman’s study, the older men who were still fit had surprisingly youthful-looking brain waves. They produced more alpha waves, a pattern associated with calmness under pressure, and had steeper peaks and valleys in waves, which signifies an ability to block out distractions. Furthermore, when subjected to a sudden flash of light or a sound blast, they were faster to produce a wave called P-300, which is associated with fast reactions. “People in good shape can really focus,” says Dustman. “They can pen a letter to a friend without the sound of children playing downstairs disturbing them. They can fill out tax forms correctly after reading the directions once.” For someone who’s out of shape, the news is grim. In addition to problems that range from overweight to heart disease and diabetes, the results of a sedentary life style, it turns out that the brain will very likely start to weaken as well. Still, Dustman is optimistic. He once encouraged 42 sedentary people over 55 to exercise (walking or jogging) three times a week. After four months, the aerobic capacity of the volunteers increased 25 % and they scored better on mental speed tests. In light of this study, Dustman thinks that even easy exercise, such as brisk walking can speed up the minds of people after years of inactivity. The time required varies, however. In similar studies, it took about a year to observe an increase in the speed of the brain.

But it is not time that is important here; the goal is rather not to lose brain capacity until a very old age. It would be better if one were always to keep in shape, as it is easier to keep something that works running than to start it up again once it has slowed down. “The real benefit seems to come from making a lifelong habit of staying active,” says Dustman.

It is better to maintain a regular routine of exercises than to start up new ones. Researchers at the University of Illinois compared middle-aged lab rats who padded daily on a running mill to rats who negotiated a complicated obstacle course of rope bridges and seesaws a few times a day. Predictably, both groups got more blood flowing to the brain. But the obstacle-mastering rats had 25% more hard-wired connections between neurons. Assuming the same is true for humans, then exercises which require more brain activity are potentially more rewarding.

Aging and Sleep

The obvious dangers of not getting enough sleep include mental fuzziness, an increased chance of accidents, illness, psychological problems, and decreased productivity at work or school. But Dr. Eve Van Cauter wrote in the prestigious medical journal Lancet that less sleep can actually speed the process of aging. In her informative study, young men who were allowed to sleep only 4 hours each night showed signs of aging in less than a week. Their glucose tolerance dropped considerably, and they started to release cortisol, the stress hormone, at a greater rate than normal.

Sleep offers the body an opportunity to heal and rebuild itself. Pro-sleep nutrients might help in this cause. For example, it has been shown that nutritional supplements containing zinc, magnesium, and pyridoxine (vitamin B6) , among other benefits, help sleep efficiency. A herbal amino acid 5-hydroxytryptophan is another promising sleep aid to use in times of extreme stress. Among sleep promoting herbs from traditional Chinese medicine are ziziphus spinosa (jujube), schisandra chinensis, and bupleurum chinense (Chinese thoroughwax). These herbs seem to relax the muscles and soothe the central nervous system. Sleep is and remains to be the most precious source of energy replenishment.

Melatonin: A God-given Sleeping Pill

Melatonin is a natural molecule made by the pineal gland, which is located in the brain. Melatonin is made from an amino acid called tryptophan. Tryptophan is an essential amino acid, that is, the body cannot make it; we need to get it from the foods we eat. Tryptophan is found in wide variety of foods. As we consume tryptophan during the day, the body converts it into serotonin, an important chemical for the brain that is involved with moods. Serotonin, in turn, is converted into melatonin. This conversion occurs most efficiently at nights.

Melatonin helps to set and control the internal clock that governs the natural rhythms of the body. Each night the pineal gland produces melatonin, which helps us to fall asleep. Research about this molecule has been going on since it was discovered at Yale University by Dr. Lerner in 1958, but recently there has been a great deal more attention being paid to melatonin. About a thousand articles on melatonin are published annually. One major reason is that scientists are discovering that melatonin is not only associated with deep sleep, but also with our hormonal, immune, and nervous systems. Research is accumulating about melatonin’s role as a powerful antioxidant, its possible anti-aging benefits, and its immune-enhancing properties.

Aging and Free Radicals

A free radical is a molecule that contains an unpaired electron through reactions with the essential element oxygen. These molecules “steal” electrons from nearby molecules to complete that final electron pair for stability. Then they are no longer free radicals, but they convert the new combined molecule into a new free radical. In a living organism, this process can cause a chain reaction of severe cellular damage, unless prevented.

The theory that free radicals are agents of bodily destruction is gaining widespread acceptance, as is the value of antioxidants in preventing such an occurrence.

According to the journal Annals of Clinical and Laboratory Science, the excess of free radicals in our body, i.e. “the domino effect”, is a critical factor in many health problems. An interesting and concerning fact about free radicals is that they cause the same reactions within the cells that occur during exposure to radiation. Free radicals released in the body destroy even proteins, the essential constituents of the body that regulate hormones and enzymes and that make up nerves, muscles, skin, and hair. It is usually suggested that antioxidants are used to fight these harmful free radicals. Fruits and vegetables are plentiful in vitamins A, C, and E, the key antioxidants. Polyphenols, which are found in grapes and green tea extracts are potent antioxidants. In fact, scientists have found out that procyanidins are the most promising polyphenols. In Japan, scientists have discovered that they may be 50 times more powerful than vitamins C and E in fighting free radicals. Alpha-lipoic acid, which is soluble in both water and lipids, can neutralize free radicals throughout the body. In fact, alpha-lipoic acid is involved in so many different antioxidant functions that it has been called the “universal antioxidant.” Citrus bioflavonoids and certain fruit and vegetable pigments are also strong free radical fighters.

Deprenyl: An Anti-aging Treatment?

Deprenyl (selegiline) provides selective protection against age-related degeneration of the dopamine nervous system. It is the only inhibitor used in clinical practice. The rate at which dopamine neurons age is quite variable. Before age 45, dopamine levels stay quite stable. Starting at 45, the decrease in average dopamine content in healthy people is linear, at 13% per decade. When it reaches 30%, the symptoms of Parkinson appear.

The sensitivity of the dopaminergic nervous system to oxidizing free radicals has been well established. The protective effect of deprenyl in lessening the neurotoxic effect of the oxidants (6-hydrpxydopa and 6-hydroxydopamine) appears to correlate with increased antioxidant enzyme levels. The increase in the antioxidant level is proportional to the deprenyl intake.

There as yet has been no definitive study of the long-term use of deprenyl in healthy people as a life-extension and cognitive-enhancing drug. But there has been extensive animal research. The lifespan of deprenyl-taking rats is significantly greater than normal rats, in fact, all the control rats died before the first deprenyl-taking rat died. Early research with deprenyl in humans (early-diagnosed Parkinson patients) shows delayed development of symptoms. Deprenyl has also been established as a treatment for Alzheimer’s disease. Eventually, deprenyl has the potential of becoming a general treatment for aging in people above the age of 45.

Conclusion

Although we know for sure that there cannot be an absolute cure for aging, the results of it can be slowed down considerably. Soundness and health of mind are desirable traits for all ages, not just for the elderly. After many years, many elderly people lose much of their memory and mental capacities; this occurs just at the time when they can pass on all their wisdom and experience to the younger generations. Hopefully, with the advent of science and technology, the deficiencies in the brain due to aging can be avoided to a certain extent. The solution lies in a balanced collaboration of modern medicine and traditional natural cures that have been practiced for centuries.

[hes-writer]

A Cheat IV (alt ending)

An alternate ending to A Cheat series where they end up together.

Summary: Harry regrets his actions and Y/N forgives

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Based on: a happy ending for Harry and y/n!!

@ynm1505 @imamahems4life

After a few months of separation from the one and only Harry Styles, did Y/N ever move on from him? Yes and no. She was slowly coming out of the shell that Harry catapulted her into because of his self-destructing actions but was also more cautious of anything and everything. Each person she meets had to pass her hierarchal exam where she observed if that person was worth Y/N sharing her past with. Having a relationship with a pop star certainly abided more people her way, most of them being fake and only mean to use her to get closer to Harry. Even when he wasn’t around anymore, he was still influencing her to act on things with him in mind.

And no, she wasn’t getting over him because it was more of like a seesaw progress, she kept going back and forth between being over him and missing him too much that she really doesn’t consider herself to be over over, you know? She has gone on dates after him, there were some really great guys out there and she felt a connection between maybe two guys, but there wasn’t any sparkle—at least not the one she and Harry had. Although she felt excited going on a date with Alan from time to time, she didn’t exactly feel as thrilled as she was with Harry. She didn’t feel exhilarated with anybody else (thus far) and she was agitated at herself. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her thoughts. Just seeing an apron reminded her of him and how he ‘used to be a baker’. Y/N was annoyed.

Speaking of Alan, he had admitted his feelings for Y/N a while back adding on that it was okay if she didn’t feel the same. After all, it was worth a shot. And trust her, she strained her beliefs to tell herself that maybe she could like Alan, see him in a different way other than a best friend type of thing. She’s still trying her absolute hardest and Alan understood that. Feelings don’t just change in an instant –even though it was more than six months since that happened. She scolds herself sometimes when she’s alone because Alan is such a good guy and he’s perfect for her, but she can’t seem to give her heart away—because Harry still has it.

So they’ve been exclusive for a few weeks, Y/N was testing the waters, going deeper and deeper to see how far she can go before she cowers back in complete abandonment of a new relationship. Her heart was light, she had forgiven Harry for cheating on her. She was personally really really happy and maybe it’s got to do with the fact that she hasn’t seen him face-to-face ever since, but it’s almost as if she has put it behind her. Y/N was rejuvenating herself, as silly as it sounds, in the best way she knew how. That was by throwing away all the negativity and only focusing on the positive. Y/N didn’t like cheaters but she also wasn’t very fond of holding grudges. She believes that people could change with time and six months is a long time for Harry to reflect on his past.

—–

Alan and Y/N decided to go grocery shopping to bake some cupcakes. At times, there were some paparazzi who still deem her important that they felt the need to photograph her whereabouts, even though she’ll probably end up on a postage-sized column on the paper. Not to put herself down, but she was an ordinary girl and she wasn’t dating Harry anymore so she didn’t understand why they still correlated her to him.

“Okay so I just ran out of flour so I’m gonna get that,” Y/N hums as she directs Alan what to get. “I’ll get the dry ingredients and you can get the icing, eggs, vanilla, all the sweet stuff, yeah?”

“Yup! I got it, holler at me if you need me to reach something from the top shelf,” He winks at Y/N knowing that standing on her tippy toes wasn’t enough to grab the bag of powder.

She slaps his arm slightly, amused at his joke and playing offended because of his height shaming.

“Pffft, watch me do this on my own,”

He rolls his eyes before walking away, clutching his stomach from laughing too much.

——

“Baking powder, check. Baking soda, check. Icing sugar, check. Ooh, flour!” She gasps, halting. She can’t believe that she almost forgot the flour.

There was only one thing that stood between her and delicious cupcake making and that was the shelf. She could see the yellow bag towering over her, tilting a bit as if to tease her for not having enough height to reach it. She huffs, going on her tiptoes even though she knows she won’t even come close.

Y/N stresses to put her hands on her hips, mouth opening to do a small whisper-shout for Alan but before she could, a gruff voice comes to her aid.

“Need help?”

She turns around, mouth dropping open in surprise. She had to grasp the shopping cart handles to steady herself from a heart attack she felt upon seeing her ex-boyfriend, Harry.

“Oh, hi! Yes, please,” she feels herself do an awkward wave, giggling uncomfortably.

He slowly walks over to where she was reaching for the flour. His large hand easily grabs hold of the item, handing it to her.

“Here ya’ go,” Harry delivers her a charming smile and she swore her heart just melted.

Funnily enough, this wasn’t how she pictured seeing Harry again. And this wasn’t how she imagined feeling. It was like seeing an old friend after a long time; relived and joyful to see them glowing. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ears, looking down at the tips of her shoes, unsure of what to say to him.

“I’ve missed you. Can we tal–,” Harry begins.

“I didn’t hear any hollering so I’m guessing you got it all by yourself, little Y/N,” Alan strolls over to her isle, not noticing Harry’s figure and gives a light rub on her head messing up her hair. She pouts at him, mentally counting the items in his arms to see if he got everything.

“No, no–uh, Harry helped me,” She gestures towards Harry, fingers attaching themselves to the back of her neck.

Harry gives a polite wave and a nod, Alan shifts his glance towards him lips set firmly in a thin line.

“Ahh, Styles what are you doing here?”

Harry lifts his cart; “I’m shopping,”

There was a silence between the three, Y/N not knowing what to say.

“Actually, Y/N can I talk to you?” Harry questions her, hoping that she’d let him. Y/N nods, but Alan stays planted on the spot beside her. “Alone?”

She turns to Alan whispering something in his ear and he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“You sure?” Alan looks deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. She nods again.

Harry raises his brow and Y/N nods to signal that she was ready when he was. He starts walking towards a different aisle, expecting Y/N to follow him. Just before she could take a step, Alan calls her name softly, vulnerable.

“You still love him don’t you?”

Y/N tries to stall her answer but inevitably nods. He deserves to know the truth, even when it hurts. Alan sighs.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Al”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can’t control your feelings,” He pats her shoulder, seeing Harry stop and turn around when he realized that Y/N wasn’t following him from his peripherals. “Besides, I met a girl,”

Y/N gasps, pushing his chest lightly. “What! Why didn’t you tell me you goof,”

Alan laughs at her excitement, nudging her hip with his. “I’ll tell you all about her later. But for now, Prince Charming looks pissed at me for keeping you,” He winks at Y/N.

“Thank you, Alan” She gets engulfed by his long arms, feeling murmur something in her hair.

“Go tell him you love him,”

Y/N jogs over to Harry with a smile but he doesn’t look too happy. He pays for his four items quickly before walking over to the parking lot area near his car.

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Wha-? Alan and I are not together,” Harry’s eyes widen at the misconception he’d conjured up.

“Oh…”

There was a pregnant pause before Y/N decided to shoot her shot. She takes a deep breath, telling herself that it’s okay if he didn’t feel the same.

“I still love you, Harry.” She bites her lip, looking nervous into his green eyes while his only stared back at her without saying anything.

“Wait I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s fine you kno–-hmph”

Her lips were clamped shut with Harry’s plump ones. Hands finding her waist and pulling her body impossibly closer to his. It was a short kiss but enough to show each other how they felt.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[youremarvelous]

yoi lit mag preview: Young Folks

Hi all! At long last it’s time to post my preview for the @yoilitmag ! Please support the project if you can, everyone has put forth a ton of effort towards making some really wonderful pieces for issue 2 (theme: time).

Summary: After thirty years of living in California, working as a travel agent to drum up business for his family’s onsen, Yuuri finds himself out of the job, completely alone, and surviving his day to day life, rather than ever really living it. It’s not the right time to find love, but like the rotation of the earth around the sun—relentless in its projected course—Yuuri finds he might not have a say in the matter.

Yuuri squints at the hours of operation sign peeling off the one-way mirror door of his nearby neighborhood bar. The late August sun peers over his shoulder—a judgmental interloper—scrawling the fine lines around his eyes and mouth in deep wells of inky shadow and sticking his shirt to his back with sweat.

He wipes his forehead with his arm, checks the time on his phone. 11:34. The bar has barely opened. The thought of being labeled a pathetic Tuesday morning drunk burns the back of Yuuri’s neck like a branding iron, but his shame seesaws with a surge of heart-squeezing anxiety. He pushes his way inside before reason has time to settle, the specter of Yuuko’s inevitable disappointment trailing hot on his heels.  

She corralled him into her apartment only a few days earlier.

“We need to talk.”

“Uh oh.” Yuuri lowers himself onto the triplet’s old stepping stool, one of the few remaining furniture pieces not wrapped up in bubble wrap and piled Tetris-tight into Yuuko and Takeshi’s station wagon. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Yuuko lobs a balled up real estate ad at his head. “Be serious.”

“You better listen to her,” Takeshi warns from the kitchen. He’s facing away from them at the stove—hip cocked to one side, stirring the curry for tonight’s dinner. “She’s been in planning mode for months trying to figure out how to mother you from Japan.”

Yuuri rubs his sweaty palms on his thighs. He’s dizzy from the smell of spices, the heat of the apartment crowding in on all sides. He picks up a business card from the pile of past graduation programs and long-expired warranties Yuuko’s sorting, runs his finger across the gold embossed lettering. ‘Onsen Travel Services,’ a relic of his former life.

“You should be worrying about how to keep up with the girls.”

“The girls call me every day,” Yuuko says. She tucks a newspaper-wrapped framed nursing certificate into the box at her foot and settles back into her chair, tucks a loose strand of silver-threaded hair behind her ear. “You’ve lived next door since we were kids and you won’t even respond to a text.”

“It’s hard for me to read the screen.”

“You read off a screen all day.”

“That’s not reading, that’s...” Yuuri pushes a hand up under his glasses, presses his fingers into his eyelid. “So...socializing?”

“Arguing with strangers over the delivery date of their shower beer caddies isn’t socializing.”

“But arguing with you about this is?”

“This isn’t an argument,” Yuuko clarifies with a finality that exemplifies her thirty-odd years raising three headstrong future lawyers. “It’s a discussion. When’s the last time you left your apartment?”

“Yesterday.”

“For something other than groceries.”

Yuuri feels a trickle of sweat drip down his spine. He stares at a phone number scrawled on the back of the business card, a Rorschach blot of ultramarine where the ink has bled out from sweat or maybe tears.

“I’m not trying to criticize.” Yuuko leans forward to touch his knee. “I know it’s been a hard year. I just...I don’t want you to end up one of those old men who die in their apartment without anyone knowing.”

Yuuri flinches.

“Which is why...” Yuuko waits patiently, lets her intentions hang until Yuuri lifts his eyes to meet hers. “I set up a date for you.”

The words settle into Yuuri’s brain one by one. Separate, at first, ‘date, what about the date, how can she set up anything when she’s leaving tomorrow morning?’ Then all at once—a disorienting deluge. “You...what?” Yuuri asks when he’s recovered enough to speak.

Takeshi whistles low from the kitchen.

“He’s from my seniors’ yoga class. He’s nice. And handsome. You’ll like him.”

Yuuri clenches the business card in his hand. The sharp cardstock edges crease his palm. “You’ve got to cancel it.”

“It’s not that serious,” Yuuko insists. “You can go to the park, maybe the aquarium…”

“What if he’s a murderer?” Takeshi offers wryly.   

“Right, one of those yoga-loving serial killers they’re always talking about in the news.” Yuuko bats off the suggestion with a wave of her hand. “He dresses his dog in sweaters. He’s completely harmless.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Yuuri’s lungs cave in, his breathing stilted and uncomfortable. “I’m...it’s been years. What do you even wear on a date?”

“You look fine in what you have on,” Yuuko says. Yuuri looks down at his tattered sweatpants in disbelief. “Takeshi, tell him he looks good.”

Takeshi sets two bowls of rice on the table, the third nestled in the crook of his arm. “You’re sexy and you know it.”

Yuuri doesn’t know it. He clenches his fingers into his greying temples on the morning of the ‘date’—a Tuesday because Yuuri had hoped the odd hour would dissuade his mystery suitor from showing. He paces the length of his living room like an animal in a cage, his thunderous heartbeat shaking his hands, pushing into his throat.

Yuuri has spent the past year bleeding out his days in a stagnant cycle of meaningless work and sleep, but now he feels the pulse of every second ticking in the back of his mind like a countdown—the overwhelming need to move.

He’ll go on a quick walk, he decides, to get some air, clear his head. It isn’t until he’s a mile down the road, pushing his way out of the overbearing heat into the damp, air-conditioned cold of a nearby bar that reality descends.

There’s another patron inside. Yuuri sits two stools over from him, staring hard into the depressing depths of his third early afternoon screwdriver. He wants not to care, but he keeps catching pieces of him in his periphery. The pink cuff of his rolled sleeve, the length of his thigh straining the seams of his slate grey slacks.

Yuuri glances over for a better look, to complete the Picassian puzzle of Eastern European cheekbones and manicured fingers poised around a half-empty vodka tonic. He’s met with clear blue eyes—beauty that’s only sharpened by the influence of time pushing against his hairline, wrinkling his forehead like a silk sheet.

“The loneliest men in town, right?” The man lifts his drink, toasts the open air with a wink. “You can sit closer, you know. No need to be a stranger.”

Yuuri would normally turn away, pretend not to have heard, but he’s been staring. Still is. A rare breeze plays at his back. He stands because it feels less awkward than the alternative.

“There we go,” the man says when Yuuri settles in next to him.

Yuuri swallows a mouthful of his drink. The vodka loosens the words from his throat. “I don’t normally do this.”

“Do what?” The man asks with a lax smile.

“Come here,” Yuuri clarifies. “Drink before twelve.”

The man raises his eyebrows, his smile curves down almost imperceptibly before righting itself again. “Should we leave then?”

Yuuri chokes into his screwdriver.

[perlocutionary]

Riddle Me This - Void Stiles

Description: When realization strikes that Stiles might be struggling with a very old trickster, the pack wastes no time in trying to rescue their friend. But searching all over Beacon hills is pointless - when Void has Stiles hidden in a place far more sinister. Y/N, Scott and Lydia find themselves somewhere Y/N would never dream of taking them… Her mind.

Relationship: Void x Reader (Void Stiles is playing some fun mental games with Y/N) mentions of  Stiles x Reader 

Word count: 8507 (long huh? I couldn’t split this up, it’s my baby)

A/N: I want to mention this real quick. The story, the home, is based on a reoccuring nightmare of mine since I was like eight? It’s quite fascinating and writing about it made me understand said ightmare so much better. It was actually quite fun.

I have to thank my babes @itsbilescallmebiles and @redstringlovers for proofreading this for me and giving me their honest opinions. It’s been ages since I had a go at something like this and I was/am quite nervous. Thankfully, they calmed those fuckers! Anywho, I hope you like it. Feedback is appreciated :)

It had been forty-eight hours since anyone last saw Stiles. Scott had been with him, and when he didn’t pay attention for the slightest of moments, Stiles had disappeared. Panic struck throughout everyone’s bodies – how could Stiles, innocent, sarcastic Stiles, be the Nogitsune? Without hesitation, Noah Stilinski had put up a search party covering the whole of Beacon Hills, to no avail.

Every police officer available at the precinct had given their all, in hopes of finding the Sheriff’s son as quickly as possible. The problem was – no one knew where to look. For them, it seemed as if the Sheriff’s son had just disappeared – run away, you could say – as there was no indication of a kidnapping. We all knew better.

Behind closed curtains, Scott and the pack had started their own search – with clues that weren’t sharable with the authorities – but came up empty handed. I had been awake and about for almost forty-eight hours straight – I couldn’t let Scott go through this alone. But my body was weakened, and I felt defeated. Maybe, the Nogitsune, the trickster, outsmarted us, and we were facing the inevitable.

Scott had sent Allison and Lydia off for a good night’s rest – to the extent possible, of course – a few hours prior. Leaving the werewolves, and I, to roam the streets of Beacon Hills at nightfall. My form screamed to lay down and rest – even a five-minute stop would suffice – but I wouldn’t allow it. Stiles was fighting an internal battle with a fox – granting us no time to slack.

“I – Scott – Just a second. I can’t.” I moan, doubling over as my chin brushes against my knees. My heart was hammering so loudly I could hear the pulses resonating in my ears. My muscles screeched in agony – I felt like I could lose consciousness any minute.

I feel his hand brush along my shoulder blade, trailing my spine as his hot breath fans against my ear. “Y/N? Are you okay?” I wave him off, trying to catch my breath as I slowly, shakily lean back up to my full height. “I – I will be. Just a moment.”

A groan escapes Scott as his red-glowing eyes scan the area. After splitting up in groups of two, Scott and I were left together, pairing Isaac and Derek to investigate the other side of town. “We’re dead tired. This isn’t helping Stiles one bit – I mean, I’m not even sure if I picked up his scent or just smell Isaac all the time.”

Snorting, I shake my head, wrapping my arms around my shivering frame. I felt like I was getting hypothermia, my teeth clattering, muscles convulsing and mind going blank as the only thing I could focus on was this freezing cold that consumed me. When a sigh slips me, I see the little bubble of fog escape through my parted lips. We were running around in circles – there was a desperate need for a game plan. “I don’t want to say it, but – “

“Maybe we should get some shuteye. We’ll start searching again first thing in the morning.” He buzzes, shaking his head as he pushes my frame towards the sidewalk and off the empty street. My house is just a block away, but I can’t help let my fingers curl around Scott’s wrist and yank him back to me when he decides to part ways.

I need to hear him say it. I need him to mean his words – We cannot abandon Stiles. Although I doubt that Scott would ever do that to his best friend. “First thing in the morning?” Scott stops in his tracks, body whipping back toward me as a small, sad smile overtakes his usually happy-go-lucky demeanor. “I promise.”

Even though my body was crying out for my needed rest, my mind wouldn’t let me. I had raked my brain over and over again – thinking about everything we had learned about the Nogitsune. About how he operated, what his motives were. But to catch a trickster, you have to be one.

There had to be some way that we could save Stiles, but eradicate the Nogitsune. But before any action could be undertaken, we had to find Stiles. With a simple group text, he had gotten into contact after ten hours of disappearance, informing us that he was alright and not to search for him – but we all knew that wasn’t Stiles.

Trying to think of possible actions to undertake, trying my damn hardest to think of places we hadn’t yet searched – my body became heavier. Eventually, my eyes drifted closed and slumber overtook me.

“Y/N? Y/N!” I could hear Scott’s voice shouting my name, over and over, but my vision was pitch black. I couldn’t move my body, I couldn’t voice the words letting him know that I heard him – it seemed as if I had disconnected from my body and floated in nothingness. A scream leaves my lips, involuntarily, but the sound dies off as soon as it slips.

“Y/N!” Lydia is there too. “Come on, open your eyes.” She pleads, and I know she, in fact has heard my ear deafening scream. Her voice quavers as she speaks. I focus on my fingertips and when I feel them slightly wiggle, I take a deep breath. A gasp slips my lips as I jolt upright.

“What the fuck?” I mumble as I let my eyes snap around me, Lydia and Scott grabbing one arm each to haul me up onto my feet. “Oh god.” I whimper, my eyes widening drastically as I realize where we are. But why are they here? “No. God, no.” Mumbles leave my lips like a chant, my eyes shutting tightly as I hold my hands against my face, shrinking to the floor as realization struck me.

I hear Lydia whimper beside me as I continue to squeeze my eyes closed. Scott’s voice is the first to chime above the deafening thump in my head. “Where are we?” Lydia almost immediately chimes in. “What is this place?”

I reopen my eyes, glancing to my friends as I try to calm my erratic heart. We were standing on the middle of a bridge, asphalt as far as my eyes could reach. My feet take slow, tentative steps to the edge, my fingers curling around the frozen railing as I peer over. The water was still, black, only the shimmer seen through the moon light cascading on the ripples of water.

Lydia screams when a bat appears out of nowhere, hysterically fluttering between us before disappearing again, like it never was here. My head turns left, seeing nothing but the thick, white-clouded fog that hovers just above the asphalt. I could see maybe, two, three meters ahead of me, and the more I focused on the fog, the more I saw them. Shadows flittering through the fog, dancing around us, waiting for us to catch us off guard.

When a shiver rakes along my spine and I feel a panic attack rising, I snap my head to the right, my fingers still curled around the railing of the bridge. My fingers were an icy white, slowly drained of blood supply the longer I spasmodically clamped onto the iron bar.

“It should be right here…” I mumble, pushing myself off the railing and taking a few steps to my right, head cocked to the side as I try to take even, deep breaths. “What is?” “What do you mean, Y/N?” Both my friends’ voices chime through the silent area, the eeriness of it all definitely not escaping them.

It takes me eleven steps before it suddenly appears beyond the fog, towering above us, beckoning me to come. Inviting me to step foot into it once more. The house looks worse than it had ever – shattered windows, lights flickering at random moments and wails floating through the holes in the walls to screech into my ears. I squeeze my eyes closed, wincing as I stumble back.

I glance over the railing, into the yard of the house, seeing the seesaw slowly wobble in the wind, squeaking as it does so. The swing set is desolated, wooden poles chipped to the point it barely stays upright. The swing slowly dwindles back and forth. The once beige-colored sand has turned a dark red, reminding me of the horror that had taken place.

“Y/N, where are we?” Lydia demands again, retracting me out of my own mind spiral, my head snapped in the direction of my friends. When I open my mouth to reply, his voice booms through the eerily silence.

“You know where we are, don’t you Y/N?” Beyond the fog, on the other side of the bridge, is Stiles. But it’s not him. I step forward, grasping both Scott’s and Lydia’s wrist, yanking them backwards and behind me. If this was a trick of my mind, I knew what to expect. It was cunning of the Nogitsune to take his form.

A growl passes my lips, dropping my friends’ hands and stepping forward. “Why did you bring us here?” A sly smirk appears on his lips, his grin toothy. His eyes are dull, without the honey-twinkle Stiles seemed to possess. My body turns rigid when I hear Stiles’ wail in the distance, but I know where it’s from. My heart aches for the spastic male, my chest heaving up and down as I demandingly threaten Void. “Where is he?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps grinning as he slowly threads closer, his fingers fiddling with each other. With every step he takes, his head cocks to a side, but his penetrating, deathly sick gaze, never leaves mine. I feel the lump arise in my throat, swallowing harshly as I try to talk myself down. I am dreaming. Scott is going to wake me up any minute to tell me it’s time to continue our search. “This isn’t real. You’re just void.”

Vociferate laughter escapes Void, his head thrown back – but he never stops walking towards us, slowly, tauntingly. “Oh, Y/N…” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyes set in a glare as he stops in his tracks, only three meters still separating us. I hear Scott growl beside me, his eyes shifting to their reddened color. I stop him, with a simple hand to his chest, my head slightly shaking.

“Your door was wide open. Caring for him made you weak. Letting your guard down was an invitation I couldn’t surpass.” Void shrugs his shoulders, his grin never wavering, eyes glued to mine. My breathing hitches in my throat, my hands clenching into fists at my side. Given, I had not taken care of my mental state with all that had recently happened in Beacon Hills – but I did not partake in the Sacrifice Allison, Scott and Stiles were involved in.

My jaw is set as I try my absolute best to not give Void what he wanted – despair. “So, this is a mind trick?” I growl, wanting nothing more than to pounce on him for taking advantage. But we didn’t know if it indeed was Stiles – or if Stiles was long gone by now.

Void hums, tapping his fingers together as he rolls his head along his shoulders, his neck loudly cracking. “Think of it as a game…” He starts walking around, trailing around us and I follow him, turning on my heel and pulling Lydia once more behind me. “… And if you lose, he dies.”

By now, Void stopped in his tracks, right in front of the old, dilapidated house. A bone-chilling chuckle leaves his lips and I can’t help but wonder if Stiles always portrayed these twinges of insanity – or if the Nogitsune was toying with my mind. “I would hurry up if I were you. You may know how to survive here, but Stiles doesn’t.” Void’s head cocks up, to the house, and with another dark, deep chuckle, he disappears into the fog. Another gasp slips my lips, my body turning rigid at the realization that the Nogitsune had indeed separated from Stiles – and Stiles was in there.

My eyes slowly drift closed, my breathing erratic. Scott and Lydia’s voices babble at the same time, but I don’t respond right away. “Y/N, what is this place?” I hum, turning to Lydia before Scott demands my attention. “What does he mean? Y/N? Survive? Where are we?”

“Scott…” I sigh, turning on my heel and rubbing my hands along my arms, the freezing cold chilling me to the bone. His eyes are wide in terror, his throat contracting when he swallows harshly. “Why does he look like Stiles? That isn’t Stiles.”

I sigh again, biting my lip as I let my gaze trail over the environment again. We had found ourselves in the middle of a horror film, and for a fact I knew this had never completely ended well. Another sigh. “Because this is not real. He can portray himself to be anything he want.”

Lydia’s hands grasp my arm, squeezing so harshly I think she might have drawn blood when she retracts after I wince. Her eyes are wide, snapping all over the place and I worry for her once we actually step foot into the house. “What do you mean it’s not real?”

I turn toward the house again, glaring at it and cursing myself for my carelessness. Void was right – we had to act fast. Stiles was in grave danger. “The door was ajar. Welcome to my own personal nightmare.”

“I think I saw this on the news – I – …” Lydia mumbles as I start my walk to the house, both of my friends trailing behind me. “I know. Stiles is in there.” I motion to the desolated place I used to call home, glancing at Scott before picking up the pace.

Scott huffs, his hand curling around my elbow and yanking me back, our chests almost colliding from the force behind his action. “How do you know that he’s in there?” His glare is set on me, before it shifts to the house. I take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes closed as I ramble my next words.

“I heard it. The pipes resonate in a certain way, his voice was enhanced by those pipes.” I yank my arm from his vice grip, throwing it up in the air. “Plus, do you see anything else around here?” Another angry huff slips him. “No…”

A smirk crawls its way onto my lips, my mental state already reacting to being dropped here after so many years. I had lived my own personal hell in this place, when my parents had decided to drop me off at my Aunt’s. I hadn’t seen them again, ever. When my Aunt passed away – something I never spoke of as to what had happened on Oak Street – I relocated, and found myself in Beacon Hills. Being here ripped open a set of freshly-healing wounds.

The smallest shakes of my head wipes the smirk right off my face, a concerned look overtaking me. “Of course not. Because this is my nightmare we’re in. The only important thing is that.” My finger points to the house again, my other, unoccupied hand roughly wiping along my face. There was no time for banter – we had to get Stiles out of there as soon as possible.

I throw Scott another pointed look, asking for his permission to continue my jog to the front door. When I receive nothing, I take this as my indication to head off. My breathing hitches once more when I’m standing in front of the tattered, red-stained door. It’s barely on his hinges, slowly swinging back and forth and knocking against the door frame in a loud, rhythmic manner.

As soon as my hand reaches for the knob, I halt my actions. I take a deep breath, hovering over the black-colored handle as I address my companions. “Now listen closely. Whatever you see or hear – it’s not real. Don’t let it get to you – or you’re stuck here.”

Lydia’s snap is accusing – but I don’t blame her. “Excuse me – what?” Instead of delaying the inevitable, I throw my entire body against the door and it creaks as it slams open. A gush of cold wind meets me, my hair blowing all around my face.

This house was nothing short of a prop in any horror movie ever made. The wall paper had a sickly yellow-striped color, bits and pieces scaling off their original place, showing the brick walls once hiding underneath. The mats underneath our feet were stained – and I wasn’t ready to find out what exactly made those stains.

Door after door erupted down the long hallway, that would eventually lead to two staircases: one up, and one to the basement. The basement stairs lead to a single, deadbolted steel door of at least three inches thick. I had never known what laid hidden behind its confines. But I had a feeling that’s where we would find Stiles. “If I had any idea how to escape – we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Please, be careful.”

“Where do we go?” As the words leave Scott’s lips, the door loudly slams behind us. A shriek leaves both Lydia and I’s lips, Scott jerking to the side from our loud noises. My heart beat is erratic, my chest heaving up and down as I lean against the wall, slowly sliding down.

My head motions to the darkened end of the hallway, the loom of it all drawing us in. “I don’t – I – The basement. But I have no idea how to get in there.” Lydia drops to her knees beside me, her frail hands shaking my quivering frame over and over again. If I had ever thought I had felt anxious, it would never compare to what I feel now. The bile rising in my throat constricts my breathing – and I am on the brink of passing out.

“Think, Y/N. We can do this.” Lydia’s voice is sharp, another rough shake pulling me out of my deteriorating thoughts. I hum, biting my lower lip harsh enough to draw blood – but not checking if I did so. I cringe when I hear his nails scratch against steel, his voice tauntingly chanting. “Tick, tock Y/N. Time’s running out.”

I raise to my feet, pushing my clenched fists against my ears as the scratching and dragging sound almost gets unbearable. He is in the basement. “My aunt used to hide the key. And because she would always forget, she would leave riddles for herself to solve.”

The scratching is abandoned and a loud, ticking sound resumes its place. Void is tapping his fingertips against the pipes, and he might as well continue the scratching. He trying to make me lose my mind. “She really did like riddles almost as much as I did, Y/N. Makes you think, no?” Void taunts, his voice echoing off the walls and sending another wave of despair through my chest.

“Stop!” I screech at the top of my lungs, my fist pounding against the wall as Void’s maniacal laughter resonates throughout the entirety of the house. “Downstairs.” I command our trio, setting for a run down the dimly light hallway into the dark abyss.

My feet resonate loudly through the spacious house as I take the stairs step by step, hands gliding along the walls as my speed picks up. I almost crash into the wall as the stairs take a ninety-degree turn, my shoulder clashing with the brick loudly before I resume my pace, Scott and Lydia hot on my heels.

Scott’s fingers intertwine with mine when we hear Stiles cries from behind the door. It causes goosebumps to erupt all over my skin, his voice portraying complete agony – like a prey trapped by its predator. “Stiles?”

“Stiles?! Stiles are you okay?” Scotts voice raises to unknown volumes, my body wincing away from him as he yells for his best friend – his brother. I hear the tapping again, but this time I can pinpoint its exact location. Right behind us.

As I spin around on my heel in a split second, I see Void’s silhouette on top of the stairs. His fingernails are rapping against the railing, his head cocked to the side. “Tick tock, Y/N.” Void’s voice chimes through the house again, a menacing chuckle leaving his lips after the words are spoken. He disappears around the corner and I seem to regain control over my extremities as I turn – His taunting only fuels me even more.

“Do you have your phones?” My hands are skimming along the door, but I don’t feel anything. There is no clue, no little note, no key anywhere within my reach. Panic strikes my core again as I take a step back, hearing both friends hum as they fumble their pockets for the rectangular devices. “Light the door up, please.”

The letters are bold, black and written in my Aunt’s perfect handwriting. My fingertips trace along the words, sending my mind in overdrive raking for an answer.

“I – what?” Scott mumbles, taking a step back from the steel door to overlook the words more critically. I squeeze my eyes closed forcefully, pushing my lips into a thin line as I rake my brain for an answer to my Aunt’s riddle.

I fingers curl into a fist as I pound the door once, with all force I possess in my tired frame. “For fucks sake – I always hated her stupid riddles. How will we ever solve this?” The flash lights on the phones click off and we’re left in the dimly lit basement. The only light comes from the ornamented lights scattered against the walls – half of the bulbs had exploded over time, leaving us in an ominous glow.

“Stiles is great with these things…” Another sigh slips me at Scott’s words. Stiles was, indeed, my go-to man whenever I had something I couldn’t figure out. This man was not only the epitome of sarcasm, but he was a fucking genius. Although he sort of never could admit it himself.

It’s when Lydia speaks, both Scott and I turn to her shell-struck. “A – planet?” “What?” I push myself off the door, trailing over to the redhead while wiping along my face, digging my fingertips into my eyes. I had no ounce of energy left.

Lydia mumbles, her eyes wide as she keeps her eyes trained on the bold black letters scattered on the door. “Yeah,” She begins, but trails off as she steps closer to the door, her pointer finger trailing along the lettering. “… Some planets have rings surrounding them.”

My mind goes a mile a minute until a gasp of realization leaves my lips. The clap of my hands resonates loudly through the house – it seems to echo off the walls. “There is a globe in my room.” “This place reminds me of Eichen house…” Scott mumbles as he pushes himself up the stairs, Lydia and I hot on his trail. “Oh, Scott…” I laugh loudly, yet no humor laces my tone, “… This place is far worse.”

The three of us are silent as we make our way through the house. I’m not sure if Scott and Lydia can hear them, but the murmurs resonating from the walls are enough to drive me insane. “Do you hear them too?” Lydia suddenly speaks as we thread down the hallway of the ground floor, her head snapping all over the place as she falls behind. My heart aches for the banshee. I guess she does hear it – maybe even more clearly.

“What exactly?” Scott turns, his ears wiggling as he tries to pick up what Lydia is hearing. But he won’t. Even though I had spent a good majority of my life here, whenever I was transported back here – albeit through my mind and dreams or my yearly visits, I never once could decipher words from the wails and murmurs surrounding me.

I stop in my tracks, turning around and let my fingers lace with Lydia’s. The small squeeze that follows is meant to reassure her, but I know it won’t help. “No, Lyds. This uh – this place holds a haunted memory. I think you’re the only one hearing them.”

Her pained expression never once falters. Her face is contorted into a grimace, lips tightly pressed together as she steps closer to me, her voice dropping into a whisper. “They’re so loud. Like screeching directly into my ear.” Lydia takes a deep breath, her eyelids fluttering closed as she straightens herself out, but cowers immediately when I hear the familiar voice. “Like this female voice from right over here.”

My own voice drops into a whisper, although I am not certain why. “I hear that one too.” Scott immediately sprints to the door, my own body stumbling after him as I let go of Lydia. I’m just in time to throw my arms around the broad chest of my friend, using all my strength to hold him from opening the lone door to our right.

“Y/N, let go.” Scotts struggles, his hand already resting on the doorknob and with one yank, he stumbles back with me until my back harshly hits the opposite wall. The light switch digs into my shoulder blade, bruising the skin there, but I don’t let go of the Alpha. “No, Scott. Don’t!”

He struggles within my grip, although he would be free of it within a split second if he desired to. “What – why? She needs our help!” Another sigh slips me. I let go of him, but I’m quick to fist the back of his shirt, in case he might try again. “Listen closely.”

The cries for help, the wailing that all three of us clearly heard, seem to fade. The voice of the woman then shifts into something out of this world, demoniacal laughter filling the room and slipping through the cracks in the door.

Scott tumbles backward, colliding with the wall as well, but his eyes never leave the closed door. The laughter only gets louder and louder, accompanied by loud, interval-like ticks against wood. Whenever I heard this same noise when I was little, my Aunt would tell me the story of previous owners, the Bellavues.

The story of miss Bellavue was simple. Miss Bellavue has married with the Lord of the County, many, many years ago, a foul man whom abused her on a daily basis. It drove miss Bellavue to the ends of her reach – insanity struck, and her husband was found dead, bled out, on their white satin sheets on a cold December morning. Their staff, after interviews with the authorities, claimed they heard a continuous ticking sound before a howl shut the whole mansion up until dawn trickled upon them. Some claimed it was her knife ticking against the wood as she contemplated murdering her husband.

All noises fade and I visibly relax against the wall, slumping as I try to catch my breath. “Y/N – what the fuck?”

I push myself off, continuing down the hall to our destination – my old bed room. It was the only room – that I personally was aware of – that didn’t have one death taken place. Although my Aunt could have been lying to make sure I would actually sleep. I motion my hand for them to follow me, and they reluctantly do so, as my voice chimes against the walls. “Every resident that ever resided here, has done something horrible. They all have their story to tell, and they’re more than willing to do so.”

“What the fuck is this place, Y/N? It feels like we’ve straight-up landed in a horror movie.” Scott starts off again – but I won’t give him the answer. Acknowledging only leads to more turmoil and I’m trying to get us out in one piece. Besides, I hadn’t even told Stiles about my past – and I honestly believed he should be first. “I told you, don’t let them get to you. If you do, you’re stuck here forever. That wasn’t an empty threat, Scott.”

Without a second glance back, or a second thought for that matter, I push the door to my former bedroom open. It looks just as I remember it did, albeit more aged. The same, bunny-filled duvet covered the small bed against the right wall. The same, dark-wooded desk, with one broken leg, rested right in front of us, an old chair, slid neatly underneath the free space. The room was practically empty, as I didn’t bring any of my belongings – I had none, anyway.

The globe I spoke of earlier sits on the desk, dust covering the circular object as I thread towards it. “Oh my – Lydia, Are you okay?” I hear Scott’s frantic voice behind me and I whip around before I can blow the dust away to examine the decoration, my gaze fiercely trained on the redhead.

“Yeah – Why? There aren’t any voices in here, it’s the best I’ve felt since we got here.” She sighs, a twinge of relief flooding her words, as her gaze catches mine. My hand raises to her face, brushing my fingertips against her jaw delicately as I speak. “You’re bleeding…”

“What?” Lydia’s eyes widen, and I turn her head with my pointer finger, seeing a small stream of blood trickle from her ears. “It isn’t safe for you here, Lyd.” I sigh, and without another word, I thread over to the globe, roughly wiping the dust away and checking the thing for anything.

I had once seen one of these globe with a secret compartment to store money. My nails scratch along the surface, in hopes of hitches against one of the cracks of said secret compartment, but after traveling the whole world with my fingernails, I’m becoming frustrated.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” I groan, dropping the globe back onto the desk and it rolls away and bumps against the mirror, resting against the wall. Lydia tucks her legs underneath her bum, shaking her head as she stares off into the distance. “We should’ve known. Earth doesn’t have rings.”

“Then, what could it be? It has to be in this house – it has to.” My voice shows the desperation I am feeling, my lower lip trembling as I pace around the room. I’m trying to rake my mind for an answer, but my thoughts are rudely interrupted when the soft ring flows through the air.

“What is that?”

“The telephone…” I furrow my eyebrows, pursing my lips together. “It’s in the room next door. Lydia, stay here.” I command her, more for her own safety than anything else, as I sprint out the door and next door. Scott is hot on my heels, and when he arrives in the tea room – don’t ask me why my Aunt thought it was necessary to have such things – I’m still staring at the buzzing telephone.

My fingers curl around it, slowly lifting it and bringing it to my ear. I don’t speak, as I have no idea what to say to the stranger calling me in my dream, but I hear his heavy breathing before he speaks.

“Stiles is hurt, Y/N. It’ll only get worse the longer you take – You used to love her riddles – why not solve mine?” Void’s voice fills my ear and I clutch the telephone handle in my hands, knuckles turning white at his taunting manners. He was trying to drive me insane – the worst part? It was working.

“Times’ running out Y/N. Maybe you don’t love Stiles as much as you claim.” Void chuckles again – but something has clicked in my mind. He cannot try to anger me by questioning my love for Stiles. It was ever present, and I didn’t doubt myself on that. Occasionally, I had questioned the reciprocated love I received from Stiles – but I couldn’t let the Nogitsune into my head right now. He was already here, and every sliver I gave him would be used against me.

“It’s the telephone.” I hum, dropping the handle back down and throwing the device upside down, my fingers prying at the small compartment. “What?” “Think about it, Scott.” I laugh humorlessly, taking my gaze off the telephone to smirk at my friend. “What has a ring, but no finger? The telephone.”

It takes me a few more moments before a click is heard and the small lid slides off, showing its contents to our prying gazes. The small paper is crumpled, clearly neatly folded many times, but its last user didn’t take care of such attentive actions. My fingers pry for its edges, slowly dragging the piece of paper to its original size. The piece of paper flutters to the desk, my hands rubbing over it to smooth out its crinkles. The old type-writer font has faded against the yellowed paper.

Scott dwindles over my shoulder as he tries to read the note. “What does it say?” He takes a step back, his fingernails scratching along his crooked jaw. “Uh – what?”

A growl leaves my lips, my hand balling into a fist and crumpling the paper within it. Back in the day, my Aunt would continuously ask me riddles to solve – and there weren’t many on my repertoire that I actually had solved. I wasn’t good at this, and I desperately needed Stiles and his wit to come and rescue us. “Why couldn’t she be into little rhymes – instead of these monstrosities.”

The tsk-ing noise throws me off guard, but when I turn around, I’m once again, petrified to see him so close to me – and I hadn’t even seen or heard him. The shadows enhance Stiles’ natural features, but there was no denying that he looked sickly-pale. The rings underneath his eyes showed just how much he was deteriorating and my heart ached as I thought about the real Stiles.

“I’m not very pleased with you insulting my favorite occupation, Y/N. That’s not very respectful.”

“I will find tremendous joy in annihilating you as soon as I get the chance.”

“I’m a thousand years old, Y/N. Stiles cannot be saved. You’re not very cognizant, Y/N. Maybe you should look that up.”

Look that up. The only place where – My eyes rake over the room, until they land on the side table next to the lone Chesterfield Void had occupied, a book tossed open onto a random page. “The dictionary.” As my head snaps up to smirk – or glare, whatever works – at Void, he is gone.

“He just seemed to – vanish.” Scott mumbles, his hand curling around my elbow as he pulls me from the small room. “Where to?” It seems to get darker, more portentous, when we reach another riddle. The lights flicker, obstructing our vision – and, coincidentally, making me see things. The longer I stare to the end of the hallway, to the stairs leading down, the more I swear there is something there. “The study, and my Uncle’s bureau, is on the ground floor. That’s our best luck.”

As Lydia raises to our feet to follow Scott and I, I halt her with my outstretched hand. “Lydia, maybe you should stay here.” Her eyes widen in utter shock, her hands start to shake as she falters back. “You’re going to leave me alone?”

A sigh slips me. Lydia wasn’t hearing any of the voices here, but I knew they’d come back at her full force as soon as she’d set foot outside the door. “I know this is the safest place for you.” A nod affirms my thoughts, and I nod my head in return before sauntering over to Scott lingering in the doorway.

When we pass through the hall, a light bulb right next to my head snaps, sending glass shards flying all around us. I clamp myself onto Scott’s arm, my breathing heavy and heart hammering against my ribcage. “This feels so real. I could swear it was a dream – but I’m not certain anymore.” I mumble as we descend the stairs, my body still pressed against Scott’s.

“That’s because I believe this isn’t a dream, Y/N. It’s very, very real.” Scott sounds as terrified as I feel, and his hand grasps mine when we reach the bottom of the stairs. “There’s one thing I can’t seem to grasp though…” I start off, leading us to the large double doors that lead into my Uncle’s office – the study.

“Why is Void helping us?” Scott voices my thoughts for me, and a shiver rakes down my spine when I release his hand to push the double doors open. “Yes. But, I don’t know. Perhaps – perhaps he’s not entirely Void.”

Instead of waiting for Scott to answer me, I do a three hundred sixty degree turn as I let my eyes rake over the countless of tattered books adorning the walls. Once, a long time ago, I vowed to myself to read every single book on these shelves. I quickly subsided that thought once I realized what was in these books. “Let’s find the dictionary. I’m sure it’s in there.”

“It’s right over here.” Scott states as he jogs up to the largest wall littered with books, stretching his entire body to grasp the thick, leather-bound book between his fingers. He opens the cover, frowning when nothing is there.

He roughly grabs the two cover pages, grasping them in both hands as he violently shakes the book, in hopes of a slip of paper falling out. He throws the book onto the desk in front of us, loudly huffing while throwing his arms up. “That’s not it! We’re wasting time here.”

A small chuckle slips me as I push Scott aside, slowly threading over to the desk and flicking the book to the last page. “The most important parts of a book are at the end, Scott.”

“I feel dumber and dumber with every riddle we come across.” Scott laughs nervously, scratching the top of his head absentmindedly as our gazes meet. If this were anything else, I would’ve agreed with the tan male without a second guess.

“I know this one. It’s a clock – My Aunt actually asked me this one once – it took me years to figure it out.” I grin, crossing my arms over my chest as I witness the smile crawl back onto the Alpha’s lips. It falters mere moments after though, his head snapping to gaze over the room, watching all clocks in this room alone.

“A clock? I have seen at least a dozen around this place. It’ll take forever. How do we know which one?” My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth at Scott’s words, my feet already taking me out of the room to head to our next stop. “I know. There was only one I could never touch.”

Scott’s feet move on their own accord as he already pursues me, our eyes still locked as we resume our conversation. “And where is it?” I rub along my upper arms as a terrifying chill spreads throughout my body, the shiver visible to the naked eye. I glance sideways and I see the flicker of a shadow disappear around the corner. “In the living room, on the mantel place. The ornament of the room.”

“Scott? Y/N?” Stiles’ voice echoes through the cramped office. My eyes snap around, Scott and I the only one present and Void nowhere to be seen – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be here. “Stiles?!” Scott yells, frantically turning on his heel, dizzying himself by spinning in such rapid circles.

“Scott!” Stiles’ voice sounds again. This time it is clear where it’s coming from. The vents. “Oh my god – Stiles! Are you alright?” I shriek, running up to the small vent above the book case and pressing my fingers through the small slits.

His voice sounds strained, pained, and my heart aches when I hear his voice again. “Y/N! Ple – please help me.” My fingers yank on the vent, but it doesn’t budge. The reality of Void’s words now echoing through my head like an unwanted chant. My own voice is a mere whisper as I speak. “Babe, are you okay?”

Stiles coughs loudly, the rumbling in his chest carried through and amplified by the vent shafts. “I – I don’t know. I think I – I’m hurt. Please, Y/N, Scott, find me.” Scott’s face contorts into one of pure agony, and I’m sure I depict the same emotion. My fingernails dig into Scott’s biceps, the male wincing from the force.

“Hang in there, we’ll get you out!” Scott growls, his fist busting against the chipped wall as if it would help Stiles. I don’t know what to say to him to make it more bearable being in the dark basement, so my words are as Void as the one haunting us. “Please Stiles, just a little while longer. You can do it.”

It’s quiet for an awful long time before Stiles’ voice is heard again, small and barely-there. “I think I’m bleeding. Please hurry.”

Scott’s flat hand smacks me against the shoulder, gathering my attention away from the vent. “Come on Y/N, let’s go.” We break out into a run, setting off on the same floor to the large doors on the other side of the house, which would lead us into the living room.

The hallway seems never-ending. With each step I take, it seems as if another meter is added to the carpet underneath my feet and I abruptly stop when I see the shadow again on the other side of the hall, tall and menacing – but seeming so far away.

Void’s laughter is heard once again, bouncing off the walls until it hits us full force. The vile chuckle makes sure all my body is covered in goosebumps. “What the –“ Scott growls, claws showing, teeth bared at the phantasm of his best friend.

“Come on.” I hiss, pointing to the ajar kitchen door and I bolt through it, the hinges squeaking under the force applied to them. Being away from the never-ending hallway seemed to destroy the illusion, and with a few large steps through the kitchen, we’re standing in the living room.

“Over there!” I exclaim, running over to the fire place and grabbing the small clock in my hands, shaking it forcefully in hopes of hearing something jingling inside. The wind-up key clatters to the floor loudly as my fingers prod at the glass covering the hands, ripping the thing apart in search for anything.

“Y/N, calm down.” Scott stills my shaking hands with his, taking it from my hands as he turns the small clock over, opening the back – meant for batteries, and peers inside. “There’s nothing here.”

I stammer my words, but they falter before I can finish my sentence. I felt betrayed – my Aunt liked her games, but not to this extent. “She wouldn’t hide it in just a random clock – she wouldn’t. I swear.”

I hide my face in my hands, my nails digging into my forehead as I groan loudly. I was out of ideas – if we had to check every clock in this house, we would never be in time to save Stiles. We would all be trapped here – forever.

“But are we solving her riddles, or Void’s?” Scott murmurs, casting his head to the floor in complete defeat. I couldn’t let my hope falter like this – because if Scott was losing his, we would be doomed. We can do this – we’ve gone through so much together. We can survive and defeat the fox.

I rake my mind for another solution. “Maybe it needs to be winded for something to appear.” My eyes cast to the floor, where the wind-up key had ended up in my frantic search for another riddle. It takes me a few moments to localize it, but when I do… “Wait – “

I fall down onto my knees, grasping the small key in my hands. It wasn’t just a random key to wind up an old clock – it was the key. “This is it! Scott! It’s the key!”

“Oh my god!” Scott shrieks loudly as he pulls me onto my feet, both of us scrambling out of the living room and racing downstairs to the basement. I try to catch my breath as soon as we reach the large steel door, my hands fumbling to get the key in the designated slot.

The loud click resonates through the narrow hallway and I yank the circular handle to all my might, coming up empty-handed. Scott appears behind me, and with both our force the door slams open loudly. “Stiles?! Stiles? Where are you?”

I’m frantically searching for him, but it’s to no avail in the dark. I hum in satisfaction when Scott’s cell phone light illuminates our path – making me notice the small shadow in the corner of the room. “Stiles!” I fall onto my knees, my hands running over his shivering side until they stop at his leg. It’s trapped within the steel claws of a bear trap – but why would that thing even be here?

“Are you okay?” I shake him, his eyes slowly opening as he bolts upright in terror. “You’re here. You found me.” Stiles whispers, his eyes watering as he throws his arms around my neck, quivering against my frame. “What happened?”

Stiles cringes as he tries to move, a yelp leaving his lips as he clutches his bloody leg in agony. “I can’t remember. I only knew I woke up here. It looks like what you told me about. You know, about – “

“I know. That’s because we’re here.” I immediately cut him off, shaking my head as I purse my lips. Scott tries to pry open the bear trap, only causing another agonizing yelp to leave Stiles’ lips. Our attention is diverted elsewhere when the loud ticking begins again, nails tapping against the steel pipes running throughout the basement.

“Did you really think I’d just let you walk out of here? Then you’re wrong, Stiles. We’re going to kill them. Cornering them in their own terrors was a good idea, Stiles. I should give you some credit.” The Nogitsune appears from behind the corner – not Stiles, not his Void version, but the original Nogitsune. The bandages covering his face are even more rattled than I remember, blooded and barely covering the burnt skin underneath.

He grins at us, sharpened, blackened teeth on full show. “Sending them here, Stiles, I have never been more nourished. The angst that I derived from them – Marvelous.” Stiles growls at the Nogitsune’s words, pulling my body closer to his by my thigh, his fingertips digging into my firm flesh.

“Maybe we should just rip them to shreds.” The Nogitsune grins wickedly before instantly charging at us. I squeeze Stiles closer to my chest as I cringe, my eyes slipping closed and my mouth opening in an ear-deafening scream.

A gasp leaves my lips as I bolt upright, my mind not immediately recognizing my surroundings – or the fact that there were multiple bodies scattered across the room. “Oh my god. Stiles!” I whisper, turning to the lanky frame lying next to me on my bed, shaking his shoulders with all my might.

He gasps and bolt upright like I had done mere moments prior, his eyes widened in fear and shock before they land on me. A sigh slips him and his arms curl around my neck to haul me into his chest, his rapid heartbeat pulsating against my throat. “Are you alright? Your leg?” I mumble to a frantic Stiles, my hands cupping his jaw as I trail over every freckle on his face, checking his leg to see if there was any residual blood – there was none.

“Thank you.” He emphasizes before pressing his lips firmly against mine, my breathing hitching in my throat at his action. Before my mind has even caught up to what has happened, Stiles breaks our seal, squeezing my smaller frame back against his.

As I break from his hug, I look over the edge of the bed, seeing Scott and Lydia groaning on the floor, seeming to awaken from a slumber. “Are you guys alright?” “I’ve felt better.” Scott complains, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head soothingly, Lydia pressing her fists into her eyes.

”I thought we were going to die.” I whine, dropping back down onto my mattress as Stiles’ hand immediately finds mine, squeezing it reassuringly – although I’m not sure if I were to assure him or the other way around, the man was shaking.

“What happened there though? The Nogitsune had us right where he wanted us. Why would he even help us?” Scott questions, and when the words leave his lips, he raises a million questions in my own mind. Nothing made sense – us showing up there, Void taunting us at every chance he got – but he still aided us in saving Stiles.

“He didn’t help you guys. I did.” Stiles breaks my train of thought, my head snapping to his shivering frame as he rubs his large hands along his arms in hopes of waking him up. “What?” As I wait for Stiles to reply, I push his body down against the mattress and cover his quivering frame with my thick duvet. “Did you get my messages?” he sighs, his eyes slowly slipping closed as he relaxes into my bed.

My voice is a mere whisper. “What messages?” Stiles mumbles his reply, but doesn’t reopen his eyes. “The riddles.” My eyes widen as I snap my eyes to the two friends still sitting on the floor at the edge of my bed, both staring at our interaction in curiosity. Stiles finds my hand again, intertwining our fingers as he squeezes so tightly he cuts off my blood circulation, but I don’t speak of it. “That was you?”

Stiles snuggles further away, his voice becoming softer and softer as he drifts off into a slumber. “I found a way to get into the Nogitsune’s head, just as he does with mine. Wasn’t strong enough to hold it off for long, though.”

I wait a few moments, until a soft snore leaves the brunette’s lips. My lips gently press against the corner of his mouth before I slowly back away from him, our intertwined hands disconnecting. His body shifts, following me as he tries to grasp my hand in his again. “I’ll be here, Stiles. Sleep.”

A loud huff passes me as I jump out of bed, tossing on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt before sliding into my sneakers, seeing the others slowly scramble upright. “What do we do now?” Lydia questions in a hushed tone, brushing the gathered dust off her dress before her eyes find mine. “Call Sheriff Stilinski. Tell him we found his son, and things might get complicated.”

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