#sorry about the water marks its from pinterest

[ofpine]

love love love this!! learning about correspondences in food and also what elements they're tied to makes me happy and helps me connect to the earth & seasons

(not mine)

[iateyourparents]

fOoL fOr YoU | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x singer!fem!reader

summary: fate has its own ways to connect people who are destined to each other, even after breaking them apart at some point in life.

warnings: kinda short, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english is not my first language)

an: songs used here are fOoL fOr YoU by ZAYN, My stupid heart by Walk off the Earth. Album used in here - Lover by Taylor Swift.

pictures are from pinterest:)

“Come on guys, let me hear you! I know you like this one!” you said to microphone before continuing the song “Cause I’m a fool for you and the things, the things you do…”

You heard crowd clearly and loudly singing with you your debutant song and you couldn’t feel more proud.

Even though since realese of this song you made two whole albums it still was most of your fans’ favorite song, and to be honest, it was yours too.

It was song about your teenage love, how you felt about that one boy that you aren’t even in touch anymore. You wrote fOoL fOr YoU while you still were a lovesick teenager but before you were able to present it to your former muse from these times, you were broken up.

Then, years later you met that amazing man, Charles, who took you under his wings becoming your manager and helped you with realesing your debutant single - fOoL fOr YoU.

And that’s how you became pretty famous and now, here you were playing all around the world for your “we’ll never be the same again” world tour, promoting your newest album.

“Alright, that was so good! Thank you!” you took a break to take a sip of water and then you were back in front of the chanting crowd “Okay, so I wrote this one about my ex who was absolutely awful experience but also taught me a lot.”

You could hear loud screams from a crowd which already knew what song you were about to sing so you just laughed and started singing, crowd following also started shouting lyrics.

“My stupid heart don’t know, I’ve tried to let you go so many times before…”

After few more songs you bided your goodbye to the crowd promising you will be back someday and you got off the stage and met Charles on backstage.

„How was it?” you asked with smile, sipping water.

„That was great!” you could say he was proud „And you were worried you wouldn’t be able to play on arenas.”

„That’s a big step!” you defended yourself with smile „I can’t wait to take a shower, I stink.” you grimaced.

„I won’t disagree.” he laughed and hugged you „Go relax a little before we have to go to tourbus.”

„You too Charlie, I know that you are secretly almost ripping off your hair.”

Now you were supposed to head to Los Angeles where you would play two concerts and then you would have a month long break before starting last part of the tour - Europe.

|||

You were currently sitting at the vanity in your changing room. Your make up artist, Sarah, was doing your make up for your last performance before a break when Charles came into the room.

„Hi” he started.

„Hi Charlie, what’s up?” you could tell he had some offer for you.

„What do you say, you, me and your band go to some club after you come off the stage to celebrate successful tour?”

You looked at him in the mirror and smirked at him.

„Sounds great to me.”

|||

You and your crew sat in some club. You weren’t drunk but it felt good to feel more easy with alcohol in your system after stressful couple of weeks.

„My forever favorite moment is when this one fan threw his boxers on scene and they landed perfectly in front of y/n. Her face was priceless.” Mark, the drummer, laughed. You loved talking about memories from the tour but that memory actually was traumatizing since it was the first time ever when something like this happened.

„I felt attacked.” you joked and took a last sip of your sweet drink „I’ll go order next one. Somebody wants something?”

You heard chorus of no’s and assurances that they have almost full glasses so you just walked towards the counter and waited for a bartender to end taking someone else’s order.

„Your concert was awesome.” you heard next to you. When you turned to the side you saw someone you thought you would never see again in person.

Infamous ghost hunter, your ex and an old muse of yours.

Cole Brock.

Or rather, Colby.

„Thank you” you smiled „Fancy seeing you here.”

„I live in LA.” he explained „I liked this one song, what was it? Fool for you?”

You smirked and shook your head „Yeah, I like it too.”

„So, was I good muse?” he winked and you laughed. Of course he would know it was about him. You’re pretty sure that when you were together you were sometimes telling him parts of this song.

„Excellent, thank you.”

„I’m always happy to help, so if you will need some new music, here’s my number.” he handed you a piece of paper with some numbers.

„I’ll make sure to call if i’ll need anything.” you winked at him and he laughed.

„I hope so.” he looked behind his back where a blonde boy, Sam, called him „I have to go but i’ll be waiting for your call.”

|||

If some days later you actually called Colby, nobody have to know. And if that meeting ended with him tangled in your sheets, also nobody have to know. And if this was more than one time occurrence then also nobody have to know.

And if your next album called ’Lover’ was about him and everyone knew it was about him, then it’s okay.

And if you both tattooed ’fOoL fOr YoU’ on your hips on the day of your wedding, then it’s great even if everybody knows.

You two really were like lovesick fools.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Atonement

01/07/2022

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 2,393

Warnings: fingering, vaginal sex, fluff

Summary: Geralt finds his love in a hot spring after a sheer endless monster hunting season.

A/N: Water is my favourite element and somehow my mind seems to think it is the perfect match for my beloved Witcher. I wrote smut with Geralt in the water before, but I'm not even remotely sorry for doing it again.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

A knowing smile curled both ends of his Cupid’s bow upwards as he broke through the line of fir trees. His senses had picked up her presence a good while ago, but now as a fresh gust of her scent invaded his nostrils, there could be no doubt she was really here.

Careful not to slip on the glazed rocks, he drew closer. With every step he took, he could feel the icy chill of the winter morning vanish, and soon clouds of pleasantly warm steam engulfed him, thawing his frozen bones and heart alike.

Despite the early hour, a few birds had picked up their song already, and their sweet melody mixed with the soft gurgling and murmuring of the stream that crawled along the foot of the mountain a good distance beneath the plateau that lay ahead of him. The stony path led him around a corner—the last one, he thought, before his eyes would finally find what they had been longing to see for more than half a year.

And what a sight she was, the ethereal beauty of the scene taking him completely by surprise. For a moment, he had to stop walking, afraid his feet might stumble like his heart did. Surrounded by the mist that rose from the surface of the natural pool, her face was veiled from his famished eyes. As was most of her body, enveloped by the white water that left him nothing to feed upon than the hint of two curves that sparked the memory of a breathtakingly soft globe nestled in his large palm.

A pleased hum left his chest in a cloud of hot air when his eyes found the necklace he had given her, the small stone that was attached to it dangling teasingly in the valley of her breasts. He had brought it home for her after a particularly successful monster hunting season, when there was still some extra coin to spare. The moment he had spotted it, he knew it would look stunning around her neck, the stone a perfect match with the colour of her vibrant eyes, and the way it glistened in the first light of day now proved him right once again.

It was almost impossible to tear his eyes away from it, but when he did, he was rewarded with the alluring line of her silky neck. The urge to press his lips against her pulse point and feel the rhythm of her steady heart begin to hitch and flutter as his hands would set out to explore her body was almost too much to bare, his cock already straining against its refinements.

And when his gaze met hers at last and noticed the same ravenous hunger in her sparkling orbs that threatened to consume him, had done for so many torturous days and nights, his hands began to work on their own accord. His eyes never left hers, afraid this might just be another dream, his fingers blindly freeing his body of his cloak, his shirt and trousers.

The stutter in her breath as he was finally bared to her watchful gaze made him chuckle and he enjoyed every second of his slow stride towards the edge of the pool, her eyes roaming his naked flesh in anticipation of the pleasure that was about to befall both of them.

He was beautiful, her witcher, just like she remembered him. Maybe with a few more scars here and there, but there were always new marks on his skin after a summer of fighting monsters and men alike. And as much as she hated the pain they had caused, she loved caressing them while he held her in his arms and his calming voice told her the tales of their origin.

Suddenly a twinkle flitted across his amber orbs that shone almost golden in the warm light of the sunrise and before she knew what was happening he dove into the milky water headfirst, his massive body making hardly any sound as it broke through the surface and vanished from view. Only seconds later, he was with her, calloused fingers reaching out to graze her touch-starved skin, gliding up her sides eagerly, before, with a gasp, his white hair and massive shoulders rose from the water and he pulled her against his chest.

There was no more time to waste, they had both waited long enough for this moment, and so her fingers dove into his wet locks and brought his lips to hers. She shivered upon the familiar taste, a moan forcing her lips apart to grant him access. And he gladly seized his chance, his tongue gliding along her lips to find hers in a tender dance. In a heartbeat, all the yearning and heartache washed away under his sure touch. He was home.

But still there was this sting she felt, making her pull away and coaxing a displeased grunt from his mouth. Puzzled eyes looked at her from underneath a pair of eyebrows that were knit together tightly.

“You’re late,” she sulked, her eyes darkening dangerously. And yet, her grim expression pulled a bemused grin onto his lips.

“Your scent was still fresh when I followed you here. You can only have arrived a few minutes ago yourself.”

Her palms pressed against his pecs to force her way out of his irritatingly bewitching embrace, but his arms only tightened their hold.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she pressed out, her fists drumming weakly against his chest.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Even with one arm, he was strong enough to secure her body to his, his free hand cupping her head as his lips pressed a sweet kiss to her damp hair. “I had to take a minor detour.”

“Huh,” she huffed against his shoulder, “I came here every day for almost three weeks but you never showed and that’s all I get as an apology? Don’t you dare think I will forgive such neglect easily.”

A deep chuckle rolled through his chest and caused another shiver to crawl along her skin.

“I’d hoped you’d say that.” And when his lips pressed against her ear to whisper his next words, she couldn’t hold back the wild moan any longer that revealed her true need for him. “I’m fully prepared to work for your forgiveness.”

He manoeuvred her body through the water with ease, and next thing she knew, she found her back pressed against his firm chest, one arm slung around her middle to keep her locked in place. She squirmed under his tight grip, just a little as she was determined not to make it too easy for him, but when his free hand set out to reacquaint himself with every dip and every curve of her body, she slowly stopped her antics and gave in to his touch. He purred like a giant cat as his fingers took the liberty of exploring her body freely, the vibrations of his chest rolling against her back and seeping into her skin with the effect of a soothing balm.

“Geralt.” Her soft sigh was almost inaudible against the sloshing of the stream that echoed through the silence of the early morning, and yet his triumphant chuckle told her he had heard it.

“Am I forgiven already, my love?”

He was. He had been since the moment his familiar form had broken through the mist and she had seen that yearning for her in his glowing eyes. But where would be the fun in telling him that? And so she took his hand in hers and guided it along her stomach, all the way down until his fingers rested upon the last barrier that stood between her and her pleasure.

“Not yet.”

There was no hesitance in his movement as his fingers glided in between the warmth of her petals. Usually, he liked to tease her, taking his time to drive her to the edge of reason in a constant spiral of indulgence and denial as his fingers worked her with a surety he had perfected over the years, but not now. Now he was determined on reminding her why it had been worth waiting for him all summer, why no one else would ever do, why she was his.

It didn’t take much after months and months of missing his touch. A few slow circles, the right amount of pressure, and his quiet hums of desire close to her ear were enough to bring her close. He could feel it before she did, in the tensing of her body, the hitch in her breath and the beautiful sound of her racing heart. And still, she refused to give in.

“Let go, my love.” Gently his lips touched her cheek as he spoke, his grip tightening just a little. “Let go for me.”

Word for word, he broke the last resistance and she let the wave wash over her. And it almost consumed her. As if her body and mind had separated for a moment, she lost control over her physical form completely, shaking and trembling in his arm unashamedly in the knowledge that he would hold her, no matter what.

It was only when her breath began to even out and her pulse started to slow that he loosened his hold, just a tad, but enough to allow her to turn, her legs locking around his hips instantly. He could feel the heat of her sex upon his, testing his patience as it ignited a hunger he had been forced to fight back for more than half a year now. And as if that wasn’t challenge enough already, she pulled herself closer until her lips were mere inches away from his own and her honeyed breath caressed his lips as she spoke.

“Are you prepared to work a little more for my forgiveness?”

He thought he might lose his sanity when she let herself sink down on him as soon as she had finished her question. He had almost forgotten how velvety soft she felt around him, embracing him like no other and it took him everything to press out the words against the all-consuming sensation.

“If this is what it takes, I hope you’ll never forgive me.”

Unwavering fingers dug into supple globes, guiding her up and down the length of his shaft and through the haze of their long awaited union he could feel everything—her pebbled buds moving against his fur, the gentle flutter of her walls, increasing with every stroke, her blood, rushing through her veins at full speed, her breath, scorching hot on his lips, drifting through the small opening of his own to invade his lungs and fill every fibre of his body with her, only her.

“Y/N.”

Just one word, one name, yet it held so much emotion that her heart threatened to overflow from the joy it sparked. To finally hear it fall from his mouth after all the time she had just imagined him saying it, would have been reason enough to fill her with unadulterated bliss, but the emotion it held—the desire, the possessiveness, the love—almost drove her insane with happiness.

Not long before her senses picked up the telltale signs of his nearing peak. His member twitching and swelling inside of her, his mouth sinking into the crook of her neck, sucking and licking her pulse point, his fingers tightening their grip to secure her against him, and his grunts, those deep, desperate sounds of desire that rumbled through the peaceful morning air like a mighty roll of thunder.

“Come for me, Geralt. Make me yours.”

With a gasp his head resurfaced from her neck and a pair of pleading eyes found hers to seek her forgiveness. He would make it up to her later, with a few more hours of lovemaking. But now he needed to succumb to his craving, needed to claim her once again and truly become one with the woman that held his heart.

His lips crashed down on hers in a frenzied kiss as he buried himself as deep as he could, squeezing his devotion into her, marking her as his for the world to know. He loved her, more than words could ever tell, and just for this one moment in time, she was his, utterly and completely, his.

Loving fingers held his face in place, thumbs caressing his cheeks as he tried to hold on to the feeling of total unity a little longer. But as always, it escaped his grasp and he found himself gradually coming back to reality.

“I missed this,” he whispered against her lips. “I missed you.”

As soon as he had finished what had been supposed to be a declaration of true love, he could feel the distance between them grow.

“You always say that and yet you leave me every time with the first signs of spring.”

“This time it’s different.”

Vulnerable eyes closed as she eased away, turning her back on him. She didn’t understand, how could she. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how much he had lost. He had seen so many leave, he didn’t want to lose her as well. The only constant in his life. The one who truly mattered. He could feel his heart grow heavy from the thought alone, threatening to drown him in the shallow water and so his hand reached out for her, finding her soft shoulder to turn her around.

“Please, come with me.”

She still refused to open her eyes, her head softly shaking from side to side.

“You know I would only slow you down. I’m not as skilled with the sword as you are.”

“As I said, it’s different now. And besides, you know that’s not true. You’re a great fighter.”

Finally her eyes opened to find his and the sheer love they held sparked a new hope inside his chest.

“I learned from the best.”

With both hands, he cupped her face, sealing her lips with his once again and she could feel the urgency in his kiss, the deep longing to have her by his side, always. And that was all she needed to leave her old life behind on that cold winter morning, to be his, wholly and completely, until her last breath.

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @marytudorbrandon @littleone65 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @agniavateira @enchantedbytomandhenry @lumiousmoon @tumblnewby @crazybutconfidentaf @viking-raider @atomicr4ven @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[cedobols]

i feel the need to tell you this.

i followed you for the art, it was cute and all and then i found your nsfw blog and was like okay, mark is not my vibe but seb is so why not support an artist i like.

i woke up this morning and wrote down 2 lines for a martian fic. that idea is now between the rest of my wips that have not been touched in months.

im blaming your art, and my very low ship standards.

happy international women's day. <3

sorry to have kept u waiting so long but it was hard to wrap my head around this. i know ive said it before but it rlly is crazy to me that i—some nobody on the other side of the world—could inspire other people into creating or even brainstorming potential creations. like that is so incredible. its one thing to have people enjoy my art but truly there is nothing more rewarding than people adding their own ideas and contributing and basically watering any little seeds i just so happened to sow.

and for that: thank you so much from the bottom of my heart! for taking the time to tell me and also for going forward with your idea and starting a fic!!!! like thats!!!!!!! just amazing!!!!! ive come to realise that something that’s most important to me is helping others feel comfortable with themselves and their interests and ideas . even if it played a minor role, to know that my art helped encourage u to create and be open about it … my job here is done! (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)

it was only last year that i started feeling comfortable to share my work online .. like my real work . the stuff that i actually wanted to draw. andy @whatincornation played a massive role bc seeing my interests in their art reassured me that it was safe . so its something as small as that yknow! me seeing andy draw mitch marner in pink or seb in edgy pinterest outfits gave me the confidence to stop PRETENDING to be someone else .. and im happier than ever! ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎ heheheh

i dont want anyone to feel unsafe to be themselves in a fandom space, especially not on my blog!!! so yeah thats why this ask really does mean a lot ;; thank you i hope you have a lovely weekend anon u hehehe i will happily take the blame for ur newfound martian brainworms <3 im proud of you !!!! good luck !!!

[latetaektalk]

tag games

tagging : @cosmoguk ​ @jtrbluv @yeojaa @opaljm @sleepyjhs @gyukult @jentwt @cafemiya​ @masterninjacow ​​ @gamerkooks ​ and everyone else that has tagged me

tag game one : fic writers ask game

tagged by : @luvdsc​ thanks cat! this is super fun ✨

Which new trope would you like to try writing?

ex-friends-to-lovers!! in general i love any ex type of tropes!! a heist! au would be fun too

Which trope do you want to write again?

exes! like, i genuinely love that trope so much and feel like theres not enough out there!

Which draft are you most excited to post?

i dont write multiple stories at the same time, so the newest chapter of love to hate you

Is there any new genre you want to explore?

hm i guess fluff? i kinda write angst by default because i think fluff is kinda... boring and not dramatic enough, so i guess i wanna try out fluff!

Do you have a favorite line in any of your drafts up to now?

“Can’t you at least pretend like you think I’m funny?”

“Yeah, that costs extra.”

“And you scolded Jisoo for exploiting me,” Jungkook bit back.

“Well, you said you’re all mine to exploit, didn’t you?” you hummed, scrunching your nose. “You are my boyfriend after all, right?”

Jungkook stared at you, blinked three times before tilted his head to the side and tongued his cheek, defeat.

“Touché.”

Have you decided on any creative goals for 2021?

not really! i just try to write, have fun and improve honestly!

Describe your journey on this blog last year in three words! And three more words for what you hope for 2021!

2020: growth, friendships, fun

2021: growth, friendships, fun (dont really wanna change anything! im having fun!)

tag game two : 10 songs, 10 people

rules : you can tell a lot about a person from the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs. then tag ten people. no skipping!

playlist chosen : love to hate you

kiss me - sixpence none the richer

anything you want - jawny

can i call you tonight? - dayglow

heartbreak in a box - juice

daydreaming - marc wavy

lover boy - phum viphurit

let’s fall in love for tonight - finneas

dontmakemefallinlove - cuco

strangers in a dream - phum viphurit

afterglow - taylor swift

tag game three : interview

rules : answer questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

tagged by : @lcksndkys thank you so much! these are a ton of fun ✨

name/nickname : linh 

pronouns : she/her

star sign :  scorpio 

height : around 170 cm or 5′7 

time currently : 10:30 pm

when is your birthday : nov 9th

favorite band/groups : exo, red velvet, bts, nct, superm, blackpink, twice

favorite solo artist : taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, harry styles, finneas

song stuck in your head : gone by rose

last movie you watched : get smart, i think

last show you binged : taskmaster

when you created your (main) blog : like april 2019 maybe?  

last thing you googled : how many seconds in a year

other blogs : this and my recs blog

why i chose my url : like late night talk, so i turned the night into taek because of taehyung, baekhyun and taeyong afdfsa

how many people are you following : 305

how many followers do you have : around 1.7k

average hours of sleep : uh not much? idk online class is kinda killing my sleep schedule

lucky number : 7

instruments : piano

dream job : dont know, but something that i enjoy and make good money at?

dream trip : vietnam, china, south korea, japan, england, france, netherlands

favorite food : potatoes, salmon, dim sum 

nationality : chinese 

favorite song : cruel summer by taylor swift,, its literally my most played song of 2020

top three fictional universes you’d like to live in : marvel, atla, we bare bears

tag game four : this or that 

indoor plants or gardens // cloud-watching or star-gazing // water or fire // paperback or hardcover // running or hiking // sleeping with socks or without socks // fruit or vegetables // hanging plants or succulents // dark wood or light wood // handwritten or typed // instagram or pinterest // braids or pigtails // dc or marvel // books or movies // oceans or meadows // forests or fields // sweet or salty // ice cream or chocolate // hoodies or sweaters // long hair or short hair // piercings or tattoos // summer or winter // boots or sneakers // cars or motorcycles // curls or straight hair // castles or cottages // sunny days or storms // reptiles or birds // disney or nickelodeon // strawberries or watermelon // essays or posters // phones or laptops // glass or stone // dark or light // photos or paintings // circuses or theatres // reading or writing // dogs or cats // poetry or novels // monsters or ghosts // thrift shops or libraries // fiction or non-fiction

tag game five : ten biases tag

rules : write down your top 10 biases and answer the following questions

seulgi

baekhyun

taehyung

joohyun

jungkook

jennie

chaeyoung

nayeon

mark

jongin

1. between 1 and 4 who would you rather kiss?

uhm cant i just kiss both? i could never choose between the two sadfsd

2. between 2 and 7 who would be your best friend?

chaeyoung because she speaks english but also because i feel like she and i would hit it off better

3. between 5 and 10 who has the better voice?

love jongin and his voice, but yeah jungkook 

4. between 1 and 8 who is the funniest?

ohh thats hard, but i think its nayeon adsfas 

5. between 6 and 9 who would you date?

jennie. if i have the chance to date kim fucking jennie, im dating kim fucking jennie. bye mark im not even sorry

6. between 9 and 10, who would you do a collaboration with?

mark! i feel like working with him would be so funny because he just talks and talks and talks asdfdas

7. between 4 and 8 who is the best dancer?

joohyun! 

8. between 3 and 5 who would you most likely marry?

uhm uhm uhm- i think im gonna go with taehyung? mainly because of yeontan asdadsf

9. between 1 and 7 who would you nurse when they are sick?

seulgi no fucking question asdfsd like sorry, bestie chaeyoung, but seulgi just owns my heart :((

10. between 2 and 3 who has the better smile?

i dont think this is fair at all?? because both have such gorgeous smiles?? im not choosing asdfs

11. between 6 and 8 who would you vacation with?

jennie! feel llike she would pay for everything and kinda spoil me,, also feel like she would want to do the craziest shit

[jjunberry]

| Harmless Jealously

| Zhong Chenle X Reader

~ Chenle let's jealousy get the better of him ~

for @sunnybutcloudy

hope you enjoy ❤

----

Chenle has been your boyfriend for over a year now. The two of you met on your first day as NCT's new make-up artist. You guys were very close even before you started dating. He always thought you didn't like him or that you were too good for him, but you always assure him that's not the case.

With his thoughts at the back of his mind telling him you were too good for him he was naturally jealous. For the most part his jealously was cute, harmless even.

He got jealous when you got too close to Mark while doing his make-up. Or when you hung out with Lucas without him. Those times don't beat when he got jealous of you play fighting with Jeno.

During these times his jealously was just a pout followed by him trying to get your attention again. He was always the center of your attention.

There has been times when the two of you were out and someone would hit on you. Chenle would then grip your hand and kiss you lightly pretending whoever cat-called you wasn't there.

All of his jealousy was harmless until NCT Dream and Stray Kids were put together for a special stage.

Chenle knew that you worked for JYPE before SM. He just didn't know you were close with Stray Kids.

" Chenle are you excited for your performance?" You asked blending his foundation. He smiled. " Yeah it's going to be amazing we have so much prepared the fans will love it." He was talking fast. It was cute seeing out exited he got.

" Y/n!!" You heard your name and turned to see the boys of Stray Kids enter. " Boys!" They wrapped you up in a group hug. Chenle kept his eyes on the scene. He didn't like it. You never told him about knowing them.

After the hug everyone but Felix went to talk to the rest of Dream. " Y/n, how have you been? Its been so long." " I've been doing good." The entire time you did Chenle's make-up Felix took all of your attention. Chenle hated it.

The Dreamies were about to go on and the boys were so excited. You couldn't wish Chenle good luck because make-up needed you to help with Stray Kids.

Chenle watched you rush off towards their dressing room. Anyone around him could clearly see the jealously in his eyes.

You were able to watch the rest of the performance. Your eyes never left Chenle. Once they were done they quickly made it backstage. The boys were given water and taken to their dressing rooms to relax.

On your way to see Chenle you ran into Felix. He caught your wrist you pulled you into a hug. You thought nothing of it and hugged him back. " You did great Felix." He smiled. " I knew you were watching." You just laughed.

" Y/n, I really missed you." Felix put his hands on your waist. You nervously laughed. " Felix I-" His lips came so close to yours before he was shoved away. Chenle stood above Felix who was laying shocked on the ground.

" Back Off." Chenle was angry. His shoulders were moving up and down slowly. The boys rushed out and Chan helped Felix up while Jeno and Haechan tried calming Chenle.

" What happend?" Renjun asked. " He fucking tried to make a move on Y/n and she was going to let him." Chenle was angry. His comment shot daggers through your heart.

" So what's wrong with me kissing her? I've known her for awhile." Felix was confused. " She's my fucking girlfriend." Chenle was getting worked up again.

" Or should I say was my girlfriend." Your eyes watered. " Chenle I was about to stop him, I was going to tell him." Chenle scoffed and shrugged off Jeno and Haechan.

Watching him storm off his what finally had your tears falling. " Y/n, I'm so sorry if I would have known I'd never-" " I know Felix it's okay." You went in the direction Chenle did.

You found him pacing in the dressing room. He also had teary eyes. " Chenle." He turned to face you. " What." He snapped. You tried giving him a hug but he stepped away from you. " Chenle please."

" Just leave Y/n." You choked out sobs but gathered your things and left. The boys gave you sad looks before you left the building.

Chenle had been ignoring you for about three weeks. For those three weeks you didn't get to do his make-up only the others. It got to the point SM moved you to work with NCT 127.

Haechan kept you updated on how Chenle was doing. You decided that three weeks was enough. You went over to the dream dorm. Jaemin let you in and the boys were excited to see you.

" He's in his room being sad." Renjun answered your question before you could ask. Chenle was laying on his bed with a huge hoodie on and his eyes were red and puffy.

He didn't look at you when the door opened. " Go away Jisung." Chenle mumbled. " Good thing I'm not Jisung." He turned to face you quickly.

" Y/n." You smiled at him. Chenle wanted to get up and hug you but his guilt was holding him down. That was until you opend your arms for a hug. Chenle never moved faster in his life. Once your arms were around him the two of you fell onto his bed.

" Y/n I'm so sorry." He snuggled into you. " I forgive you, but we have to be able to talk to each other and to trust each other." You felt Chenle nod. " I love you Y/n." You smiled before kissing him. " I love you Lele."

----

i love chenle so much omg

sorry this took so long to get out!!

Gif found on Pinterest!! Credit to Owners!!

hope you enjoyed-Echo ❤❤

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (5) - richie tozier.

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee @socially-unaccepptable-dameron

the usual sexy stuff and swearing and weed. y'all know the drill.

"i've never been... uh... good at the whole, um, serious thing. but, this is us. this is... our wedding. and i put real effort into this shit. so, get ready, fuckers, because this is a real tearjerker. um, yeah. okay..."

you honestly hadn't trusted richie to write his own vows, but neither of you had wanted them to feel... artificial. you wanted them to be your own. and now he was standing before you, holding your hands in his and tearing up already. big softie.

he had also teared up as you walked down the aisle on wobbly legs, mike on your arm.

"we were... we were owed more time, i think." richie lamented. "we should have done this years ago. i should have married you years ago."

---

richie had known, for a long time, that you were the one he would marry.

it was 1993, and the sun was setting over sleepy little derry, giving the quarry an orange-pink glow and bathing you all in its warmth.

you were all pruning up a little, and it wasn't as warm as it was when you'd come down a few hours previously, but summer was coming to an end, and you wanted to make the most of your last couple weeks of freedom with your favourite people in the world.

richie watched as you sat in the shallows, taking a hit of the sizeable joint between your fingers. you exhaled loudly, leaning your head back toward the watercolour sky.

shades of blush pink and peach and apricot illuminated your skin, the low sun setting a warm glow across the water, and oh, god, he was in love.

you laughed, loud and beautifully obnoxious, at something stan had said, passing him the joint and wiggling your legs in the water. your laugh just so happened to be the losers' favourite sound in the whole world, as it was one of those wonderfully infectious laughs you can't help but laugh along with.

richie had always tried to make you laugh in the hopes that you'd like him, but when you did laugh, he found himself falling in love.

eddie watched on in disapproval, sitting cross legged on the bank behind you.

"when you get lung cancer i will laugh and i will spit on your grave." he grumbled, but took the joint anyway when it was passed back around to him, just as enthusiastically as the rest of you. perhaps he was trying to protest in hopes that it would lessen the guilt he would feel later as he frantically sprayed himself with deodorant to get the smell out, and applied the emergency eyedrops he had bought.

ben, bev, bill and mike were in the middle of a very intense game of chicken. beverly had toppled off of mike's shoulders at least twice, but she had pushed bill back into the water more than four times, shrieking with laughter as, arms flailing, he disappeared under the surface of the lake.

"rich! c'mere." you had caught sight of him and held out your arms in his direction, making cute little grabby hand motions toward him. the look of utter joy on your face warmed him from head to toe, and he smiled as he swam over, dodging bill, who had once again been knocked into the lake by bev. ("stop being such a little bitch, billy.")

you came to meet richie halfway, leaving stan and eds to finish the joint and sinking into the water up to your neck. you immediately attached your lips to his, running both of your hands through his hair because you were stoned and everything felt better under your fingertips.

kissing him was like... a whole other plane of existence. you were joined at the lips, joined at the heart. the sun was going down and it was getting cold, and you were both shaking, and he noted the way you tasted of smoke as he kissed the life from you, the water rippling against his chin. you groaned quietly, and richie smiled into the kiss, ignoring everyone else's exasperated groans because ugh they're making out again ew look at them they're so disgustingly in love.

"you're both whores!" stan all but screamed, and you flipped him off, kissing richie all the more enthusiastically.

and richie broke away just to look at you.

the sun, now casting a deep orange-red light behind you, was almost set, and you were beautiful.

the quiet "hi, babe." that tumbled from your lips made him feel as if everything was right with the world, and, then, staring at you, drinking you in, in all your red-eyed, swollen-lipped, soft-grinning glory, like he was seeing colour for the first time, he knew that if he didn't marry you he would probably die.

---

"but now we're here."

richie cleared his throat, his eyes darting around because if he looked directly you he had no chance of keeping it together. "and i have you for the rest of my life. it took a lot for us to get here, too. god knows how we managed to plan all this. thanks, bevvy."

---

eddie was your best man.

obviously.

eddie was your best everything, to be honest, so it was an easy choice while wedding planning. eddie had been the essential third to your group of three ever since you were kids, and he meant so much to richie, and so much to you that you hadn't even had to think about it.

eddie was going to be the best man. that choice was a no-brainer.

all of the other choices, however, were not.

richie and yourself, apparently, were completely incompetent at any sort of planning whatsoever.

you tried, though, you really did.

you got out the big notebook and a pen and richie pulled up pinterest and you had some serious talks about colour schemes and flower arrangements and the like.

well, sort of.

("can we have, like, yknow, like, those worms..."

"worms?"

"like those worms on strings... yeah, those."

"the googly eyes?"

"the eyes.... yeah, and just..."

"hang them?"

"from the ceiling... yeah. "

"richie?"

"yes?"

"i think that's the best idea you've had since i met you.")

but after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and only having made one useful decision, the two of you decided that you were not in any state to plan your fucking wedding.

("so... s-so if we get- richard, stop trying to take my clothes off- if we get the worms, do you want the pink- rich, i swear- do you want the pink ones or the blue ones...?")

turning off whatever true crime show was playing in the background, you stumbled, leaning against one another, to the bedroom.

"sex?"

"that's the plan."

but any attempt to undress each other only got half way before you were both asleep atop the bedsheets, snoring lightly, an intoxicated tangle of limbs.

the planner notebook you had been using to write down the essentials lay open and abandoned on the coffee table, the only thing in it being one line of richie's chickenscratch handwriting.

it read: set a place for stanley.

---

richie was really, properly crying now, and the only think keeping him from losing his shit was eddie's hand on his shoulder, and your thumb running across his knuckles.

everyone else was crying, too. not a dry eye in the room.

"almost losing you again... so soon after we had found each other... really put shit into perspective for me, yknow? hospitals, um, suck. and i was so pissed... because... fuck, sorry, fuck... i was, uh, pissed, because all i could think was that we were losing time again."

---

(before the sewer fight)

"kiss me." richie's quiet, shaky voice came from behind you, and you whirled around from the suitcase from which you were trying to put together an outfit more suitable for clown killing.

he took you in his arms almost immediately, bending down to kiss you, but the kiss almost scared you.

it was too tense.

there was too strong an edge to the way he held you close, kissing you as if it were the last time.

"what's wrong?" you murmured, centimetres from his lips, your breath ghosting across them.

"i... i don't know if we'll both come out of this." he admitted in hushed agony, kissing you again, slower. "i won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you." richie kissed you again and again, such raw emotion behind each soft crush of lips that he had to swallow the quiet, broken gasps that spilled from you.

"whatever happens," you breathed, running your thumbs along his cheekbones. "i love you."

"show me." he pleaded, red rimmed eyes locking onto yours with such intent that you almost fell over. "please, just-"

"we have to be quick." you said, and he nodded, pulling you into another long, searing kiss. there was a sort of burning desperation to the way his lips moved, now.

richie shifted your shorts down and slid his hands under your thighs, whispering a low "jump" in your ear. your legs wrapped around his waist, and you gasped as your back hit the wall.

"fuck, rich, hurry the fuck up." you mumbled, tilting your head so as to give him better access to the skin of your neck, to which he was already leaving marks.

"okay, baby." and then he was all but tearing off your shirt, immediately exploring the newly exposed skin with his mouth, teeth included. fuck.

"you're such a prick." you hissed.

"and you might just be the most beautiful thing ever to have existed, sweets." said richie, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking at you with dark, dilated, sex-me-up eyes.

"do something about it then." you challenged.

"anything for you, doll."

richie was pushing you so hard against the wall, that you were surprised you didn't go right through the drywall and topple into eddie's room.

you ran your tongue along his bottom lip and he groaned so fucking loud.

"i love you." you whispered the sentiment against his lips, fumbling at his belt buckle.

"i love you more."

---

richie took a moment to compose himself, allowing you to do the same. your eyes drifted about the room. the absence of both yours and richie's families bothered neither of you.

at the front row, the losers and stanley's empty chair, reminded you that they were the only family you'd ever need.

---

"you fucking what?"

"it was an accident!" richie held his hands up in defense, slumping down next to you on the couch.

"richie, do you ever imagine what it would be like if you'd have gotten enough fucking oxygen at birth?" you snapped, raking your hands across your scalp.

"watch it, or no sex." he said.

"i will never have sex with you ever as long as i live unless you uninvite my mother right the fuck now."

"i couldn't say no!" richie was now flapping his hands about in frustration, looking a little like a cartoon character. "she called me up yelling about the divorce and then i told her about the wedding--"

"my life would be so much easier if your dad had just pulled out." you deadpanned.

"--and i didn't know how to tell her she couldn't come--

"we have to change the venue. she's not coming."

"but that's the beach grease was filmed on, babe, there's no way i--"

"richie, if you don't change the venue, i will fucking castrate you in your fucking sleep."

---

it was raining that day, anyway, so a beach wedding wouldn't have been possible. it was okay, though. richie quite liked the little chapel you had picked out, and the coloured light that filtered through the stained glass windows danced across your skin in a way that reminded him so much of quarry sunsets. it was perfect, really.

"we could have had... so much more, yknow? a normal life. but, instead, we grew up in fucking derry... like idiots from some dumb horror book." you laughed at that. so did the losers. you were the only ones who knew what it really meant. "i promise... i'm going to, um, spend every moment of the rest of my life, the rest of however long we have, showing you how much i love you. and i do... love you, that is. every moment of the rest of fucking time, baby, because god knows we've lost enough."

and you kissed him before the priest even said the words, knocking him backwards into eddie.

your first dance was unconventional.

of course.

richie was nervous. he had practiced this dance so many times, with beverly, with eddie, with fucking bill. (that particular endeavour had been a tough nut to crack.) and you pretended you didn't know, for his sake, because he had tried so hard.

his hands shook as he positioned them on your waist where beverly had taught him.

"i can't dance, babe." he snorted.

"i know you can't." you giggled, kissing his cheek.

you held him close to you, blinking back tears as the first chords of billy joel's vienna drifted quietly from the speakers in the corner.

richie lay his head on your shoulder, murmuring the words softly in your ear and pressing light kisses to the soft skin under it.

about halfway through the song, you realised you didn't actually know how to dance either, which was a relief to him. whatever you ended up doing had to have been acceptable, because, once again, everyone was sobbing.

bev cried, mike cried, ben cried, bill cried. eddie shoved almost his entire hand into his mouth to stifle his tears, because there was no way in fuck richie was seeing him cry.

richie would sooner find himself down in the sewers again than admit it, but he could carry a damn tune.

when the song faded to its soft end, the two of you didn't move for several more seconds, eyes gently closed, foreheads together. (admittedly, richie was quite a bit taller than you, and to lean down a fraction.) it seemed almost wrong to open your eyes and join the rest of the world, but the losers' over-enthusistic applause and cheering pulled you both from the trance as they drowned out everyone else.

"you're beautiful." richie whispered, and your eyes snapped open. you had a feeling he wasn't just talking about your dress. eddie, of all people, had helped you pick it out, following you around the wedding dress outlet centres, hissing profanity at the disheveled women who got in his way and muttering furiously about how he'd sterilise the fuck out of whatever you chose to buy.

"you're beautiful." you sniffed, wiping your watery eyes and pulling him down to kiss you softly.

"why are you two like that?" eddie whined when you sat down at the table you'd put them all on. he was only half joking.

"it is their wedding day, eds." bev shrugged, remembering how gross her and ben had been at their own wedding a few months previously.

"what can i say?" you arranged the skirt of your dress comfortably around you before slinging your legs over richie's. "richie's a whore."

the rest of the party was... eventful.

most notably, the losers club's exclusive, very enthusiastic (and frankly quite dangerous) group dance to uptown girl in which your shoe ended up across the room in the wine cooler on the table you dubbed "friends from work" and bill and mike accidentally threw eddie half way across the room at the final chorus.

there was also the matter of richie and yourself insisting on recreating the "come on eileen" dance from the perks of being a wallflower, but then not remembering any of the moves. losers club exclusive group dance part 2 ensued.

eddie's best man speech was a wreck, mainly because he was absolutely bladdered.

("trash-mouth... trash-mouth fuckin tozier got the girl. nobody thought it would ever happen, i mean ever-")

---

(6 months after the wedding.)

"are we gonna pretend we have kids?" you pondered, crumpling the empty juice pouch in your hands and tossing it onto the steady-growing pile in the corner of the living room. "or are we just going to have to own up to the fact we drank twelve boxes of capri suns between us this week?"

a quiet slurping noise came from beside you as richie drained his own capri-sun, throwing it onto the pile with a flourish of his arms.

"i think that they've come to expect this of us." he said, shifting your legs out of his lap and standing up to answer the door.

"alright!" you heard him call down the hallway, as who you assumed was bev began pounding the doorbell aggressively.

and then the door swung open, and you heard a chorus of cheerful greetings and borderline yelling. ah, your best friends.

the losers came over to the tozier residence almost weekly for drunken antics and the spilling of long overdue tea.

"MRS TOZIER!" mike hollered jovially, bill in tow. they'd been seeing more of each other recently. none of you were able to miss how mike looked at bill when bill wasn't looking. it was how beverly and ben looked at one another, and how you looked at richie every morning you woke up to his face, and all throughout the day when he wasn't looking, and even when he was looking.

"MIKEY!" you yelled back with equally as much gusto, stretching your arms out for a hug, which he gladly returned.

"novelty not wore off, yet?" mike asked, gratefully taking the capri sun you offered to him as he settled next to you on the couch. "you've been married long enough, realised you don't love him yet?"

"oh yeah, no, this is purely a marriage of convenience. he's not that ugly, and i get laid like every day, and all i have to do is pick up his socks and share a bed with him."

richie wasn't impressed, storming back into the room in front of bev, ben and eddie.

"hey, um, ok, well, i actually am having a passionate affair with ben, and, ben's fucking hung. so, there."

richie slumped on the other side of you, grabbing you and blowing a raspberry on the side of your neck.

"seriously, bitch?" you whined, but you wrapped your arms around him all the same.

eddie bustled over to the towering pile of capri-sun packets, a plastic refuse bag in hand that you assumed he'd just pulled from his fanny pack.

"you guys are disgusting." he shoved the packets into the bag with unnecessary force. "you fucking deserve each other."

"tell them why we got kicked out of the drive-in theatre last week, rich." you smirked, leaning into your husband's side. he cleared his throat.

"i, uh..."

"tell them." you pressed.

"we saw titanic-" richie started, quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

"oh, god." eddie groaned, storming out of the room in search of a recycling bin.

"-and i, uh... was yelling diving scores as they, uh, jumped off the boat."

"for fucks sake, richie." ben sighed. beverly was borderline cackling. mike and bill just looked disappointed.

"it's not my fault!" richie whined. "my beautiful wife was the one who insisted we recreate the sex scenes as they happened. hand on the window and everything."

"the toziers, everyone." eddie came back into the room, sitting on the ground on a beanbag near the coffee table. "you two should never have been allowed near each other."

"ah, but we were." you chimed in. grabbing richie's face and kissing him obnoxiously. "what say we get piss-drunk and, like, play dumb drinking games. for old times sake?" you suggested when you tore yourself from him, your lips separating with a wet pop. "it's been a while."

---

1993

"what's up, fuckers." you threw up a casual peace sign as you descended into bill's smoke-shrouded basement, stumbling slightly down the stairs and sitting between richie and stanley in the circle that the losers had formed.

richie immediately attached his lips to your neck, pulling you into his side.

"hello to you too, trash-mouth." you grinned. richie looked fucking good.

he'd only gone and got his septum pierced the day before, and you were wary at first, but the little silver horseshoe ring that hung between his nostrils now looked amazing, glinting in the low basement lights. richie wore a deep red, oversized, cable-knit sweater that you could have sworn was yours but you'd smoked a huge joint on the way here and weren't too sure. a black beanie sat on his head, a few errant curls poking out by his forehead and around his ears.

"you're hot." you mumbled.

"you're hot." he grinned against your neck, and lifted his head to kiss your lips, his glasses bumping against your nose.

"yo, whores, truth or dare." beverly said, throwing back about half of the bottle in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"i fucking hate this game." richie hissed, leaning against your shoulder, sulking.

"truth." you said.

"what's richie's biggest kink?" she leaned forward in the circle, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.

"beverly!" richie was not amused.

"he's really into hair pulling." you sniffed, taking a blunt from between stan's fingers.

"babe!" richie exclaimed. you exhaled in his face.

"is he loud?" bev asked, leaning to take the joint from you.

"BEVERLY!" richie was shouting, now, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"oh, yes. he is." you nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"FUCK!"

"a bit like that, actually."

"this is actual abuse." richie put his head in his hands, edging away from you.

"i love you." you tried, tugging on his sweater and leaning against him.

he had crawled into stanley's lap at this point, curling up like a baby.

"i fucking hate truth or dare." richie sat up and reached for another bottle, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

---

most of the losers were asleep, curled up in various, not so comfortable looking positions on your couch and beanbags and weird hanging egg chair thingy that you'd insisted on buying.

"where did you come from, babe?" richie sighed, snaking his arms around your waist from behind as you brushed your teeth. "you're fuckin'... perfect."

one thing richie had always remembered, if a little vaguely, was your smell. the smell of sleep and fabric softener and your shampoo. his memory hadn't done it justice, he decided. when he took you in his arms in the chinese restaurant and inhaled deeply as if it were his last breath, filling his lungs with the smell of you and trying to sear into his brain the memory of how you felt inside his arms. because he would forget again, surely.

he hated himself for forgetting you.

"we're married, rich." you pointed out, rinsing your toothbrush and dropping it into the holder. "you're not too bad, yourself."

"i mean it, though." he muttered, pressing the softest of kisses to your jaw. "you're so fuckin'... doll, i, fuck-"

"don't go all shy on me, babe." you teased. "come to bed, yeah? im cold."

he watched as you shuffled off to your shared bedroom, doing that thing you always did when you stretched, making an unnecessary amount of noise. he smiled. that's my baby.

"hey, rich." another voice came from behind him. at the door of the bathroom, small and tentative.

"oh, hey, eds." richie smiled, taking his own toothbrush from the one next to yours, continuing the conversation through the mirror. but there was a somewhat uncomfortable silence in the small room, made worse by the hollow rattling of the toothbrushes.

"i, uh..." eddie shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe. "i, uh... gotta tell you something, rich."

"knock yourself out, eddie spaghetti."

"im getting a divorce."

"oh, yeah? good, she was a fucking-"

"im with someone. a guy."

"a guy?"

"yeah. his name is, uh, richie, as it happens. well, richard, but, yknow."

"eds-"

"i loved you." eddie blurted. quiet. barely there. "for, uh... so long."

"you-"

"when we were kids. and, and i... you were never out of my head. not for one fucking second. and my mom... god, my fucking mom, she knew. i think she knew. every time you came round she made sure to scrub me a little harder. the soap burned. fuckin, i don't even know, some carbolic shit, or something. but... it was always her, wasn't it? you and her, um, you loved her and you continued to love her for... for fucking ever. and i wanted it to be me, rich."

richie was almost choking on his heart.

"eds, you know i-"

"no, actually, i don't."

"well i-"

"im not... bitter. if that's what you think. because i think the world of her. she's... my best friend, i would do anything for her, rich. and it wouldn't have made sense for you to end up with anyone else.

and im not... pining anymore? this was uh, what i needed. and im with someone, and he loves me, and i love him. so much, i do. and i love... you... and her... "

"eddie, i loved you too, yknow."  richie muttered. the words hung in the air between them like the sword of fuckin' damocles.

"you did?"

"yeah. course i did."

"well, fuck."

"yeah. fuck."

"can i-" eddie held out his arms.

"yeah.",

richie was so used to hugging smaller people that it was natural to rest his chin on eddie's head, enveloping him almost completely. he noted how eddie gripped his shirt a little tighter than was probably necessary.

"you gotta let me meet this guy, yeah?" said richie, muffled against eddie's hair. "you're, like, small and shit. so i gotta make sure he won't break you or something."

"okay, rich." eddie laughed quietly.

when they broke apart, something had changed. there was closure. eddie could go back to his loving boyfriend and richie could go back to his wonderful wife and it was okay. all of it was okay.

it was okay.

---

"g'morning, doll." you had woken up to richie going to town between your legs. which was, um, always a good time.

after he had finished, wiping his lips, wiping you from his lips, he mumbled the term of endearment lowly into your ear, kissing the spot just underneath it, and you almost grabbed his head and pushed him back down there. however, it was cold, and he was warm, so you melted against him, pulling his arm over you.

"hey, baby." you weren't sure if the words had come from you, because you were floating. and half asleep. but they must have done, because richie kissed the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him, if that was possible. "what time is it." you continued, yawning.

"uhh, like, nine." he yawned back.

"ew."

"i know."

"why did you- and not that i'm complaining, because that was great- why did you wake me up, you fucking insane person."

"because they all left, and woke me to tell me they were leaving, and then i was awake, and you weren't, and i was bored, and i wanted to wake you nicely."

"mission fucking accomplished." you sighed, a sleepy grin spreading across your face. "but can we go back to sleep, now?"

"yeah."

"love you, stinky." you mumbled.

"love you more."

[joon-bugs]

Worship

~Hello beautiful people. Sorry its been so long..but enjoy! ~ 

“Your body is beautiful. I love each and every curve-” His hands moved to fondle the round globes of your butt. 

“This part especially, is my favorite.” You felt your face heat up, the hairs on your arms rising. Okay, so maybe Jimin did have a bit of a thing for your ass. He squeezed hard and you gasped aloud. Okay, maybe ‘a bit’ was an understatement. 

word count: 1,763 

pairing: Jimin/Reader 

genre: smut 

warnings: biting, fingering, butt grabbing/spanking, overstimulation, language, thicc girl love ;) 

The nude figure in the full length mirror grimaced, the reflection reaching up to pinch at the pudgy layer of fat around the stomach. Tired eyes blinked and you came back into yourself, a frown on your face. 

You'd always had a rocky relationship with your body. Years of not watching your calories and binge eating had taken a toll on your current self image, leaving you in a state of deep self loathing and hate. Even despite your boyfriend’s protests that you were beautiful. You spent your days scrolling through your pinterest boards of clothing you would never feel confident enough to wear in real life, and gazing longingly at the unrealistic bodies of models in magazines ads. 

“Love yourself.” You scoffed, mocking the mantra that had been instilled into your head since puberty. It was easier to do the opposite if you were being honest. A pair of arms suddenly engulfed your waist and you jumped, before relaxing into the warm embrace. 

“Jimin.” You sighed, leaning back into him, relishing in the way his hair tickled your bare skin. A voice in your head reminded you of the slim definition of your boyfriend’s body and the comparisons between you two flooded your mind. You shifted uncomfortably and moved to remove his arms from you. 

“What’s wrong baby? You feeling okay?” Jimin asked softly into your neck. 

“Yeah I just..need to get dressed. I’m cold.” You lied. Jimin only held you tighter and let out a low chuckle. 

“Cold? I’m sure I could fix that.” He whispered, beginning to kiss down the side of your throat. His hands opened to splay across your exposed abdomen, the tips of his fingers swirling near your belly button. You shivered at the sudden shift in his attitude and felt your insides flip. 

“Jimin I should really put some clothes on.” 

“Why? I think you should walk around the house like this more often.” His touch had traveled lower, his nails lightly scratching the trails of stretch marks adorning your hips, before pausing at the edge of your underwear. 

“The windows are open Jimin. Someone could walk by and see.” You looked to the side nervously, watching the curtains flutter as a breeze went through them. Jimin pressed his pelvis closer to your behind and that's when you felt the prominent bulge. It didn’t take long for him to get excited. It was astonishing really. 

“So? Let them see how gorgeous you are.” His breath tickled your cheek and you shuddered, your arousal beginning to dampen your underwear. 

“I’m, I’m not-” 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” He threatened, squeezing the flare of your hips. Your pulse was loud in your ears. 

“Haven’t we been over this before baby?” And you had. Time and time again. Your insecurities would rear their ugly heads and Jimin always seemed to be there for the moments they did and would in turn, remind you of how wrong you were. How wanted you were. 

“Your body is beautiful. I love each and every curve-” His hands moved to fondle the round globes of your butt. 

“This part especially, is my favorite.” You felt your face heat up, the hairs on your arms rising. Okay, so maybe Jimin did have a bit of a thing for your ass. He squeezed hard and you gasped aloud. Okay, maybe ‘a bit’ was an understatement. Any chance the man got he was sneaking touches or smacking it (loudly) in public. You had to admit it was a turn on. 

He bit down on your shoulder, before running his tongue over the spot. Your hands were shaky as they found his hair, using it as an anchor. 

"You like that don't you? When I touch you here?" His words rumbled in your ear, his palms kneading the plump flesh of your bottom. You wriggled in his grasp, aware of your nakedness. His hips began to move in a circular motion, his erection pressing insistently. You bit your lip to stifle the whine that threatened to come out of your throat, and tugged on Jimin’s hair. 

"Answer me." A sharp stinging rang in the silence, followed by a burning sensation. He'd hit you. Your butt was on fire, no doubt a bright red. A trail of arousal slipped down your leg, seeping through your underwear. 

You lurched forward to escape but Jimin caught you, cupping one of your breasts in its confinement. The fingers of his free hand  ghosted back around to your front, teasing the fabric's elastic. 

"Y/N.." You licked your lips, remembering his question. 

"Y-yes. I do." Your voice was wavering, quiet in its hushed tone. You felt him smile against your skin. 

“Good girl.” He murmured, slipping a finger past the cotton barrier and parting the folds within. A shudder  rippled through you, your knees threatening to lock. Your body was putty, pliable in his hands. The sound of your wetness was loud, the noise meeting your ears almost immediately. 

“J-Jimin.” 

“Yes, baby?” You could hear the teasing in his voice, and clenched your thighs around his fingers, trapping them as you became undone. 

"Please.." You left the word hanging, knowing that Jimin would understand. The wide expanse of his palm rubbed your already swollen clit, as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly. 

"Please?" He nipped your earlobe and you bucked unconsciously, causing his fingers to slip further into you.  

"More.” Your gasp was desperate, bordering on a beg. You felt the breath of his laugh, testing your patience.

“So greedy.” Jimin growled, the pace of his hand increasing tenfold. You panted in short spurts and clawed at his shoulder before slumping forward onto the mirror, the glass a relief from the high temperature of your body. You felt Jimin shift, before he removed his fingers and gripped the base of your neck. 

“Ohhh look at you. All your curves, your softness. All mine.” The presence of his lips ghosted in the dip of your spine, moving lower. Unsteadiness plagued your frame and you pressed your palms flat against the mirror as support. 

“Look at yourself Y/N. See what I see.” 

“I-I can’t.” Your voice wavered, eyes already beginning to water. 

            “You can. And you will if you want me to continue touching you.” Jimin knew your weakness and was playing on it like a drum. However it was more for your benefit than his own. 

“Jimin..” 

            “I can wait baby. Can you?” Your throbbing core was a reminder that you couldn't. You bit your lip and forced your eyes to meet the reflection. Your face had taken on a dusty rose hue, light but still noticeable. Your hair was wild, curls sticking to the sweaty sheen of your skin. You looked utterly fucked without having been. 

            "Oh.." The noise left your throat unexpectedly. You saw Jimin grin behind you, his tongue flicking out to taste your bare back. 

            "What did I say? Gorgeous." He whispered, both of you staring at one another intensely. You wriggled your behind to remind him of his promise. Jimin's smile grew wider and you heard him mutter a word that sounded like 'greedy', while he quickly pulled down his sweatpants. You couldn't see but your body knew all too well what would follow and prepared itself tenfold. You rubbed your legs together, uncomfortable at all the fabric still in the way. You pressed your forehead to the standing glass, hands shaking in anticipation.            

"You're so good for me baby..so so good." Jimin moaned, the tip of him pressed to your entrance. 

"What are you waiting for hmm? An invita-" You were cut off by his slow pushing, his movement only hindered when he was completely bottomed out, his hips flush to your butt.. 

"Ohh fuck. Shit. I could die happy right here, god how do you still feel this good?" Jimin panted out, throwing his head back, silver hair a sharp contrast to his dark hoodie. A deeper longing for Jimin overcame you and you arched your back and called out his name. He withdrew only to slam back home, pushing your face into the mirror. You would have complained if not for the sharp tingles rushing through your nerves. He pumped into you quickly, his hands gripping your hips for stability. Your mouth puffed out hot air onto the glass, fogging it up almost immediately. You tried to meet Jimin’s thrusts by pushing back onto him and was rewarded with a slap to one of your cheeks. You laughed, breathless and felt the sting of another hit. The heat in your belly flared at once and you bit down on your lip at the feeling. 

“I love getting this view of you Y/N..I love how you fit around me..I-” Jimin’s confession was the breaking point for you, setting you off. A series of high whines spilled from your throat, before you collapsed forward, twitching at the aftershock, while Jimin continued pounding into you, his skin shiny, hair wet. Jimin always lasted longer than you, which was a blessing and a curse. Your legs were starting to grow tired, the creeping of another orgasm building. A whimper fell from your lips when a finger rubbed at the swollen bud between your thighs, forcing a painful pleasure to rise. 

“J-Jimin I-” 

“Come with me baby. I know you can.” Tears rolled down your cheek freely as you tried to focus on the underlying pleasure building once more. You dug your nails into your palms and sucked in a heaping breath, bracing yourself mentally. How could you deny him? 

You tumbled over the edge once more, crying out at the overstimulation. Jimin was right behind you seconds later , twitching and releasing deep inside you, before taking you down to the floor with him. You both heaved in lungfuls of air, you convulsing, and Jimin holding you close. You felt the tension in your worn body slowly ebb away, replaced with the serene feeling of a post orgasm glow. The beat of Jimin’s heart was thunder in your ears, strong and comforting. You buried your face in the heavy fabric of his hoodie and murmured something he couldn’t quite hear. 

“Hmm?” He asked quietly, swirling lazy patterns on your shoulder. You groaned before lifting your face up. 

“I said-remind me to never question you again.” You muttered, brain still foggy. Jimin gazed down at you, a warm look in his eyes. He kissed your forehead, tucking you closer. 

“I would..but where’s the fun in that?” 

Written by Rose

[thicahgase7]

{7:05 am}

For @wikihoeofgot7​​, the biggest Mark stan I know and love

Song: Lovestained by Hope Tala

[A/N: I would just like to note that the Y/N in this oneshot has A.D.D (Attention Deficit Disorder) which I also have so I hope I was able to show that a bit. But I hope you enjoy]

Slowly opening your tired eyes, you try to see if he’s still next to you but find him missing, his phone still resting on his nightstand. Groaning, you crawl over to his side and reach for the phone, checking to see who’s calling: someone from the group no doubt. Sure enough, one of the boy’s names pop up on the screen and you chuckle to yourself.  

Getting outta bed, you let out a groan while stretching to wake yourself up more, wondering where he was. The bathroom? Turning your head to the bathroom door, you could now hear the water running and music playing. Placing the phone back, you started to walk in the room but froze with a thought. Ooo you could surprise him with breakfast! Yea, that’s what you’ll do! But, checking your breath, you scrunch your face up. Maybe you should brush your teeth first..

You enter the bathroom, the music getting slightly louder now that you’re in the room. His back is facing you as he hums along to the song and you pause, stopping to admire his wet muscles. Instinctively, your hand reaches out to him but you stop yourself. You came in here to brush your teeth and go make breakfast, not attack him in the shower. At least, not for now. Focus! Careful not to make a sound, you keep looking between the shower and your hands, grabbing the toothbrush and slathering it in toothpaste.

“Wild wild wild, when I’m with you all I get is wild thoughts!” You cover your mouth, a laugh almost escaping you as he sings from the top of his lungs. Checking to see if you’ve been caught, he lathers his hair and still doesn’t turn around. He sways from side to side, body rolling while running his fingers through his soapy hair. Knowing you only had a minute or so at the most, you quickly brush your teeth, thankful that the music is so loud it covers the sounds of the sink.

“Wild wild wild thoughts!” Okay, any longer and you’re honestly gonna burst out in laughter but the way he’s dancing in there, you smile at him before turning around and closing the door quietly. You tell yourself you need to record him next time he does this so you could show him and his friends later if he’s being annoying. It would make things even since he shared with the boys a video of you snoring. Wait, what were you doing? Right, breakfast! You reach for your phone and head out of the room, unlocking your phone and looking up recipes. You notice a text from Yugyeom but ignore it for now. You figure you can answer him later.

What sounds good right now? Eggs benedict? You weren’t sure you had the tools to make that. Turning the corner of the hall, you continue to scroll for recipes. Pancakes? Hmm, last time you made them, they ended up a bit thicker than usual. What could you make? You suddenly feeling pain shooting from your hip and look down. While searching on your phone, you rammed yourself into the kitchen island, its corner hitting your hip bone. You hiss, crippling to the floor as you try to breathe slowly.

“Dammnit.” You start to rub your hip, hoping the pain will go away faster if you did that. You only had to wait for a few more seconds before the pain is gone entirely. Grabbing the edge of the countertop, you pull yourself up and sigh while glancing around. Just what the hell could you make? Your eyes rest on the fridge and you figure you should actually see what you have.

Let’s see: eggs, shallots, leftover takeout, milk, hmmmmm maybe? Checking your phone for more recipes, you notice you have notifications on snapchat. Opening the app, you notice it’s from most of the boys. You decide to send a quick picture of the kitchen, making a funny face before opening Pinterest. Your feed pops up to memes of the boys, other kpop memes, pictures of places, and regular memes.

“Ooo, a meme of GOT7?” Scrolling past the meme, you see a video of a kid slamming their face in the cake then seeing a cute duckling wadding through the water. Each swipe of your finger, a new meme pops up and you giggle to yourself. Maybe you should show some of these to him when you have a chance.

“Sooo, were you gonna grab something or did you just open the fridge to stand there looking like a dork?” You gasp and try to look behind you as hands wrap around your waist, the fluff of dark hair in your eyesight while his lips grazing your neck in a quick peck. You swat at his hands, your heart racing at the slight scare he gave you. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning.

“Mark! You know you can’t just pop outta nowhere!” He chuckles, pulling you closer to him to feel the rumble of his chest on your back. You swear this man will be the death of you. Literally, he’s gonna give you a heart attack one day.

“Aww, I’m sorry my love. I just couldn’t resist~.” Rolling your eyes, you close the fridge doors as he still holds onto you. You start to squirm in his arms, hoping he’ll at least let you turn around to face him, but he only squeezes tighter. You try to look at him, placing your hands on his forearms.

“Umm, excuse me sir, but are you gonna let me go?” He snuggles his face in your hair, his nose rubbing against the nape of your neck.

“Hmm, and why would I do that?” You sigh, leaning on him while looking around for some excuse to make up. You finally rest your eyes on stove, looking at the knobs and handle of the oven. What were you even doing in the kitchen? You came in here for a reason and just what were you gonna do? Your attention snaps to the sound of the fridge opening again, one hand reaching for eggs while his other still resting around your waist. That’s right!

“I was gonna make you breakfast!” He lets you go to place the eggs down on the island, looking over at you with a lazy smile. Before he could go back to get more stuff, you squirm your way between him and fridge, feeling the cold air on your skin. He cocks an eyebrow up at you, the smile never leaving his face. “Oh, is that so?” You nod, turning around to quickly think of something to make. Eggs, butter, leftover rice and-! You got it! You run over to the cupboards to grab the one thing you need along with the spices, him moving out the way as you place your ingredients down.

“Yup, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but I guess I got distracted,” you chuckle nervously. When you glance back at him, he shakes his head while leaning against the counter opposite you. You watch as the muscles in his arms flex with the motion before paying attention back to him, his head tilted to the side in a curious expression.

“Well, I guess we had the same idea.” You can’t hide the surprise on your face as he waits for a response. He was gonna make you breakfast? You feel warm and fuzzy starting to bloom in your chest at the thought but then push it away, your competitive side getting an idea.  He sighs after a moment. “I know that look, what are you planning?” A grin starts to form on your lips as you try to feign innocence.

“Oh nothing…I was just thinking, maybe we could have a cook off? See whose breakfast is better..” You can see the glint in his eyes after saying that, his grin matching yours as he walks over to your side.

“Yea? And what’s the prize of winning?” You shrug coyly, stepping away from him to grab a small pan.

“Bragging rights? Loser has to do chores for a week?” You’d hope he would take the bait. Knowing how competitive you both are, you were simply waiting for him to raise the stakes. He tsks, shaking his head.

“Chores for a week and loser has to do something for the winner, whatever they pick.” There is was. If you win, there could be a bunch of possibilities for you: make him give you a massage, record him doing aeygo, dress him up in something ridiculous and send him out in public. The list was endless. But you had to be sure he wouldn’t back down from this, so you peered over at him with eyebrows raised.

“So the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do?” He doesn’t back down, his grin only getting wider as he shrugs.

“I’m a man of my word. I just can’t wait to do whatever I want to you.” There was no way in hell you were gonna lose. You nod, getting excited to see him eat his words.

“Deal. Let’s go!”

You both run around the kitchen, trying to get whatever you needed for your dish. The rest of the guys kept snapchatting you, making you pause and talk about whatever came to mind to your boyfriend: how your sister was doing, how Kelly from work was causing drama, etc. He would nod occasionally, commenting here and there before reminding you to focus on making the food.

You guys started playing music, letting whatever genre play out. Since your home more often than Mark, most of the music was more up your alley: reggaeton, rap, pop, just overall upbeat music. You were swinging your hips and just moving along the beat. Mark would join in with you and sing the songs he knew the words to. You almost brunt the rice and spam had it not been for him.  You were just about to make the eggs and toast when you heard your ringtone go off.

Checking your phone, you open a snap of Coco and whine. You throw your arm around his shoulder, peering over in his pan before showing him your phone.

“Look, Mark, it’s Coco! Aww, we should get a dog!” He laughs, his hands busy flipping something in the pan.

“Haha maybe, but then what kind of dog would we get?” Mulling it over, you chew on your lip. Hmm what kind of dog? You didn’t know. A boxer? Maybe a small dog? Ugh why was this hard?  “Hey, by the way, you want sweet or savory?”  At least you knew the answer to that question.

“Sweet, always.” Glancing over at you, he sneaks a quick kiss from your lips before putting the food on a plate. Damn, he’s making crepes.

“Okay, I’m almost done with your dish. What about you?” Shit, the eggs and toast! He laughs when he sees your bulging eyes. “I’m guessing not.” You shake your head, heading back to your side of the stove.

“Ahhh, how many eggs do you want?” He faces his back to you, blocking you from seeing what else he was doing to your food.

“Two.” Turning on the fire, you toss in the butter and eggs. While that sizzles, you rush over to the loaf of bread and turn back to Mark, him rinsing something before moving back to the cutting broad.

“How many pieces of toast?” He hums for a second, the sound of chopping coming from his hands.

“Just one.” You quickly turn the toaster on and place the bread inside before heading back to the pan, grabbing a spatula. You pray that the eggs don’t break as you flip it over, looking like the prefect over easy eggs. Just as you’re patting yourself on the back for this, you spot Mark eyeing you with a grin on his face as if he were a child at a candy store. You give him a look, trying to hide as much of the pan from his view as possible with your body.

“You better not be peaking at your breakfast!” He shakes his head and laughs, turning back to his hands.

“I don’t need to peak to know that I’m gonna win this battle.” You chuckle mockingly, checking on the eggs.

“Oo ho, is that so? Aight, bet!” After a few seconds, you slide the eggs onto the plate, next to the fried rice and spam. You see in the corner of your eye, Mark going back and forth before covering his creation and placing it on the island.

“Sooo, you done?” Covering your own meal, you spin around and cross your arms causally.

“As soon as the toaster is done, I will be.” He chuckles, leaning over the island with his hands clasped together.

“Sooo…” You lean over across from him, matching his goofy grin.

“Sooo…” He tilts his head to the side, dancing a lil to the beat of whatever song was playing.

“You come here often?” You burst out laughing, watching his eyes crinkle in joy as you hit his arm lightly.

“You dork!” He keeps dancing, walking around the island until he grabs your hands, bringing you close and spinning you both around. He begins to hum along to the lyrics, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You need to make me lovestained…” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his face in to give him a kiss.  His arms tighten around your body as you continue, open-mouthed while you run your fingers though his hair. He brings his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks before breaking away and grinning, your noses touching as he just stares at you lovingly. “God, I can never get tired of looking at you.”

You begin to open your mouth to say something when the toaster rings, Mark stepping away from you and walking back to his side of the island. You feel your cheeks burn from his remark while you turn around and busy your hands to put some butter on the toast. He could be such a sap sometimes and him making your heart swell right not was not fair!

Facing him once more, you place the toast next to your dish and grin.

“Alright lover-boy, who’s going first?” Shaking his head at the nickname, he shrugs.

“Up to you.” You know you’re gonna win so you have an idea, smirking at him while sliding your dish closer to him.

“How about, we open each other’s dish at the same time? That way we can enjoy our food without the other getting cold?”

You honestly you thought you would win the battle but when you both revealed your dishes, your mouth began to water at the sight. Mark had made you strawberry crepes, the cream and strawberry looking like heaven on a plate. You had tossed a glance at his face, catching the hunger in his eyes looking at your food. You knew both of you didn’t wanna admit the other was the winner, so you just started eating. But as soon as the cream touched your tongue, you couldn’t stop the moan coming from your mouth. Mark snickered and leaned closer.

“So, I win?” You had two options: admit defeat or be stubborn. To be honest, you could try to deny it all you want but you already knew the answer. On the other hand though, admitting defeat means he’s gonna make you do anything he wants. So you just scoff, trying to act like you didn’t just moan at how good Mark’s cooking is.

“Please, I was just so hungry that I got excited to have the food in my mouth.” He leans close, the smirk on his face only getting wider while holding a fork up to his lips.

“Oh yeah? Well I thought I fed you enough last night, you kept begging me to-” You quickly scoop a forkful of fried rice and shove it in his mouth before he could finish the sentence, scoffing at him.

“Stop making it sound dirty. I kept begging for some chicken wings while you refused and we still ended up getting take out. ” After swallowing his food, he tilts his head to the side with a grin.

“You gotta admit that that Thai place was pretty good though.” You sigh, looking away from him.

“Yea, it was pretty good. Anyways, eat your food.” Chuckling, he begins scarfing down his food while you try not to swallow your food in one go. You both keep glancing at each other to see if the one of you will admit defeat.

You end up finishing first and watch him as he eats, a smile planted on his face the whole time. He flashes a wink and grabs your hand, drawing circles with his thumb onto your skin while eating the rest of his food with his other hand. When he places his fork on the now empty plate, you kiss his cheek and pick up the plate, letting go of him to put it in the sink.

“I hope you’re not planning on washing the dishes.” Turning around, you stick your tongue out at him.

“And why not?” Getting up, he walks over, his eyes never leaving yours while placing his hands on either side of you.

“You still haven’t told me who won.” You poke his chest.

“Neither have you.” Shaking his head, he leans close to bring his lips against yours, his hands now moving to your hips. When he pulls back, his eyes dance with mirth.

“How about we both say what we think?” You nod, your hands placed on his chest.

“Alright, count of three: one-” He grins.

“Two-” You laugh.

“Three.  I won.”

“I won.” Gasping, you smack his chest while he chuckles. “Oh come on, I made you your favorite!” You step away and pout, crossing your arms.

“And you seemed to really enjoy my breakfast.” He nods thoughtfully, his fingers snaking through your arms and bringing your hand up to his mouth, lightly kissing your fingertips. You refused to give in and just stare at him despite feeling a blush creeping onto your face.

“Of course I enjoyed it, love. You made it for me.” Ooooo what a smooth talker. “So who won?” You figure you should be just a lil petty, just to mess with him a bit. He lets you go while you go to grab your phone, seeing notifications from the boys before turning back to him and grinning. You have a good amount of space between you, perfect for what’s gonna happen.

“I won and you can’t change my mind.” He raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into a teasing smirk. “Oh yea? And what if,” he pauses, looking down before meeting your gaze, a playful glint in his eyes. You take a slow step back, waiting for the right moment. “I tickle it out of you?!” Now!

You run away, laughing madly as he chases after you, through the hall and finally diving into your bed, trying to hide under the covers but Mark’s way too fast for you. He jumps on the bed, pinning you under him as he tickles your sides.

“How you like that?!” You try to wiggle and squirm out of his grip but its no use, you cackle like crazy before you reach out and get him back. You manage to tickle his sides as well, using your momentum to roll over and get on top of him, his laughter filling the room.

“And how about you?!” You both can’t stop laughing, a sea of flying limbs and booming voices going on. If anyone came in, they would think you guys were crazy but you honestly didn’t care. This went on for a bit longer with either you or him on top of the other, having no clear winner. You guys called a time-out, laying on the bed and panting.

“Whoof, that was fun.”

“Yea….” Tring to catch your breath, you stare at the ceiling and listen to his panting. Nothing is said for minute before you break the silence.

“Soooo, you wanna cuddle?” He sighs, sitting up to look down at you.

“Oh god yes. Come here.” He moves over to lay on his pillow, lifting his arm up as an invitation and you waste no time to crawl over and curl into his side. Wrapping his arm around you, he hands you your phone. “By the way, you might wanna answer Yugyeom. He texted you six times already.” Your eyes widen, you totally forgot to get back to him  about doing a campaign with him.

“Shit. Hey, wanna do a CoD campaign with me and Yugyeom later? He said he’s bringing Mortal Kombat too.” He chuckles.

“Is that why he’s texting you?’ You nod, starting to text him back.

“Yea, he wanted to hang with us and I forgot to respond to him last night.” He shakes his head, smiling.

“Sure why not? Have him come over later so we can do it together.” Answering Yugyeom, you send a text and then open up tumblr.

“Bet. Hey, babe look at the memes people made of you guys.” Scrolling to your likes, you show him your phone. He scrunches his face as he goes through them, sometimes laughing, grinning, or cringing at the stuff.

“The stuff they come up with is always surprising..” You nudge him slightly.

“it’s just their way of showing their support and love.” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “You think I should make an account?” Shaking your head, you laugh.

“Hahaha no, don’t. If they find out you made an account, all hell would break loose….Have Bambam make a fake account.”

“Okayyy?” Resting your hand on his stomach, you keep scrolling.

“Trust me. Bambam could pull off having a fake account, so could Jackson but he might slip up.”

“You really thought about this, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” You get sent a link of an interview of BM from Sunny, Mark closing his eyes and you lower phones volume.

As the video plays, you get a pop up of an order receipt from your email. You click it and see an order made for a ring. You certainly don’t remember ordering anything recently. The interview still plays on in the corner of your phone while you stare at the receipt, completely ignoring whatever the people in the video were saying.

“Mark?” He slowly opens his eyes, peering at you from his eyelids.

“Hmm?” You show him your phone.

“Did you order a ring online?” His eyes go cartoonishly wide and snatches the phone outta your hand. You watch in shock as he hovers over your phone and tries to hide from you. After a few seconds, he flashes a weak smile.  “Uhhh, what was that?”

“Just a big fan of BM.” Just then, the video screams “Big Tiddie Gang!”, and Mark laughs nervously. You just look at him, knowing damn well he was lying.

“Mark, did you place an order for the ring?” He looks around until he feels your stare and slumps.

“Ugh, fine. Yes, I placed the order for the ring. I was gonna ask you to marry me when it came in and all that.” You feel your heart catch in your throat as he doesn’t look you and fiddles with the blanket. You sit up and jump on him, kissing him as you fall on the bed.  He doesn’t fight you as he kisses you back, his arms wrapped around your back. You laugh as you look back and see his shocked expression. “What was-”

“It took you long enough!” His shock turns into laughter, squeezing you close and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Well excuse me for trying to plan something romantic.” You scoff and pull away, looking down at him.

“Screw romantic.  You could’ve just asked me with a ring pop and I’d be happy.” He laughs again.

“So it that a yes?” Rolling your eyes, you give him a pointed look. “Of course, it’s a yes!” You curl into his embrace, resting your head on his chest. You couldn’t help feeling like everything just felt right in the world in this moment. Knowing that this man wanted to spend his life with you and having all the time to show him what he meant to you made your eyes prick up. You refused to cry from happiness and instead grinned.

“Sooo, you’re a fan of BM and the big tiddie gang?” He laughs loudly, kissing the top of your head.

“Shut up.”

[rosemaryfm]

『ANYA TAYLOR JOY ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like LYDIA MONTGOMERY is here for HER JUNIOR year as a COMMUNICATIONS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be HOPEFUL, IDEALISTIC, DEPENDENT & MALLEABLE. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo. .. sorry fr switching muses so suddenly .. bt lydia will stick. i swear. as always gib this a like if u’d like 2 plot <3

TW ABANDONMENT, DEATH MENTIONS, BORDERLINE IMPLIED

aesthetics.

knee highs and platform mary janes, tulle skirts and bubbles and beads and lace, and heart-shaped mirrors and heart-shaped bruises, gaudy mirrors and gaudy faucets and gaudy frames and chandeliers and gaudy gold, handwritten love letters and kiss-stained envelopes, flowers braided in hair and dying flowers in vases and flowers pressed in between pages, vintage perfume bottles and old ballet slippers and discarded head-shots, short skirts and satin slips and tiny cardigans, melted candles and burnt fingertips and dripping wax, floral baths and beach waves and seashells and summer breezes, renaissance paintings and statues and praying hands and rosaries and empty beds, masks and identities and sobbing and crying and yearning and wishing and learning and wanting and needing and the cycle repeating and repeating and repeating.

basic info.

full name: lydia rosemary montgomery

nickname(s): lydia delia, lyds

b.o.d. - june 22nd, cancer

label(s): the allegiant, the chameleon, the crestfallen, the facade, the gregarious, the grifter, the malleable, the marionette, the neophyte, the obsequious, the rose-colored glass, the sybarite, etc. ...

height: 5′7″

hometown: new york city, new york

sexuality: bisexual

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inspired by: amy march (little women), lydia bennet (pride & prejudice), lucy pevensie (narnia), daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), moira rose (schitt’s creek), karen smith (mean girls)

biography.

the product of an affair between christian montgomery, an esteemed doctor at his hospital - and one of the nurses there, allison dermont. the half sister of caleb montgomery (shoutout 2 alli!)

named after her maternal grandmother (deceased before lydia even turned one) and rosemary because it reminded allison of her childhood (rosemary always in the air, growing from pots on their porch and baked into the bread they’d eat)

growing up, lydia never knew her father. but she knew of him - her mother told her stories often of him, and the work he did to save others. built him up as a hero, a role model, someone admirable and brave and just despite the fact he’d no longer look her in the eyes when crossing paths in the hospital’s hallways. lydia idolized him.

was a very lonely child - her mother worked long hours, and babysitters were often distant. tended to attach herself to them, anyways, clinging to legs and arms and having to be peeled off and scolded (which then resulted in tantrums, of thrown toys and stomping feet and red, tearful faces)

her schoolmates were cruel to her, an easy target as a child - she followed behind the girls who seemed the most well liked, trying to mimic how they were. it’d always been a little off, and a little off-putting, and she cried often.

abandonment issues led to an obsession with perfection - as if she accomplished the most, her father would be blown away with her talents when he finally reached out. it’d always been a hope for her - her father contacting her, bringing her into his life. being a full family, loved and attended to. 

strove for the highest marks in all her classes, though there’d been hiccups here and there. she’d done ballet for a number of years before her dance instructor had essentially told her she’d never make it to a company, which led to her abruptly quitting. even put out a portfolio and contacted modeling agencies - she’d done a few small photoshoots as a teenager, but she’d never made it to anything big.

tried her hardest to act and work the part of someone important, elegant and better than who she really was. it showed in the aesthetics she indulged in (thrifted nearly everything she owned, from trinkets to her clothing) and the way she acted. in high school, she trailed behind the popular girls. molded her personality to cater to them, to be more like them. a mean girl, in a way. 

did the same when it came to boyfriends and lovers - she’d mold herself into exactly what they wanted, tried to be the perfect girlfriend for them, or sexual partner, or anything. she just wanted the attention, the love. had a myriad of relationships in high school (and it bled into college, too) where she’d give her all, and ultimately end up used and disappointed.

never felt like the first choice, only the second. always the bridemaid, never the bride. never good enough, no matter how hard she tried. but always remained hopeful - idealistic, always thinking that she’d get her turn one day. optimistic, but with lowering self-esteem and a mountain of insecurities.

became something of a habitual liar, in the process - always wanting to seem better than she was, so she lied about where she lived (instead of a measly apartment, she lived in a penthouse) and her accomplishments and her experience, and her feelings and who her parents were.

found something she was genuinely good at during her senior year of high school, when she’d chosen a fashion elective for one of her class periods. the practical aspect, she was good at - creatively? she had nothing to offer.

because of her lack of ideas, she never pursued it further. in college she chose to go into communications, specializing in public relations, though she’d never thought of actually finishing college. it was just a way for her to find a beau, to marry - to leave new york and have children. has always wanted to be a housewife with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. to be loved and held for the rest of her life.

without cliques in college, it was hard for her to find her footing among peers. joined a sorority, molded her personality once more into something they would desire, and was accepted. got a frat boyfriend until it burned out, and another, and another, until she had something of a reputation.

with all of these expenses adding up - lydia’d never wanted to work a retail job, or food service, or anything measly like that - she found use for her sewing skills in the back of npc shops. worked in a shady operation producing fake designer items. she’d been excellent at producing exact replicas.

it wasn’t a very safe job and it’d ended her up in danger on some occasions, but it paid, and she was desperate.

met caleb for the first time at his mother’s funeral and became obsessed with the idea of having a brother, of being closer to her father somehow. cyberstalked him as much as she could and found radcliffe, where she eventually transferred to when caleb had decided to go back. practically followed him like a lost dog.

got into perkins because she literally pre-wrote her essay to get in and basically sobbed her story in front of secretaries and deans and housing faculty until she’d been granted permission to move in.

currently interning at a company where she has control over their social media accounts, alongside a team of other interns. when she’s feeling particularly upset she’ll post passive aggressive or straight up distraught, distressing messages (tweets, captions, etc.) on their official accounts, sometimes featuring the mascot of the company/brand. they haven’t figured out its her, yet.

personality.

i won’t lie. she’s a bit of a mess. 

constantly changes her personality to fit whoever she’s talking to, desperate for their approval in even the most minimal ways. consistently lies about literally ... whatever, sometimes for no reason, if it’ll make her seem cooler or better in some way. type of person who wants to one-up others.

excessive, in that way. clingy and pushy, she tends to latch onto people and designate her ‘favorites’ - their opinion means the world to her, and when it falters she essentially crumbles as a person.

pretty fragile as a person - emotional, and unable to be yelled at because she’ll wind up crying. takes a lot of things very personally, and always accuses herself as being the problem, which leads to her changing aspects of herself.

loves often, and viciously, will fall for someone at the drop of a hat. yearns, often. sulks often, too.

still has a ballerina’s posture, model’s demeanor, very upright and it could be mistaken as intimidating, though the facade cracks immediately when she speaks. loves gossip and unintentionally - or, intentionally - spreads it at the drop of a hat.

can get very possessive, and jealous, and outright mean. very highly defensive at times, when pushed (it doesn’t take much to push her)

sentimental to a fault - she still has her last pair of ballet slippers despite the fact that she’d dropped that pursuit when she was fifteen.

her room is adorned with mirrors, handheld and mountable and tabletop - they’re all heart-shaped.

has an obsession with hearts, actually, and florals, and gold, when it comes to decor. has hanging plants and flowers falling from her ceiling. her sink is a gold swan (her favorite animals are swans) faucet that she paid to get installed without permission from perkins.

basically her decor is very gaudy. loves fur coats and silk slips and mini skirts, brandy melville, platforms and socks. very specific style that she doesn’t falter from, often.

takes baths often to distress but setting them up is an hour-long process in itself, flowers and herbs and candles surrounding her tub. she’ll stay in there until she’s pruny and the water’s gone cold.

likes to garner sympathy when she can - though she herself tends to be a very sympathetic, compassionate, person. cries for others even when they’re not crying themselves. it’s a lot. tends to make things about herself, in some way.

a smoker, and a bad one at that, does it whenever she feels the slightest amount of stress. she’s very stressed, very often.

likes the aesthetic of art, like renaissance paintings and roman statues, but isn’t deeply knowledgeable on them.

very impressionable, easy to impress, and is loyal to a definite fault. doesn’t tend to give up on people, and holds out for the best.

a dreamer, excessively hopeful and idealistic - is often let down. wears rose-colored glasses and doesn’t see it, anyways. can be vicious, but ultimately just wants to be loved. obsessed with the idea of it.

very finicky and picky, but is also? a hypocrite? says she’s a vegan but she isn’t - she has indulged in mcdonalds nuggets more than once.

very materialistic in that she loves high-end things that she ... can’t afford, but is also financially irresponsible and loves to spend her money on things she absolutely doesn’t need. selfish and immature, at times.

vastly insecure, likes reassurance. double texts. overthinks. romanticizes.

laughs when she’s nervous - laughs a lot.

patient until she’s impatient, the reason why she burns her tongue and the roof of her mouth so often on hot teas and coffee and treats.

is either over-prepared or under-prepared; over-prepared in academics, always doing the upmost she can do (still a perfectionist) and under-prepared when it comes to dressing out - never wears a jacket and is always cold (anemic, too) because she’s hoping that a handsome stranger will give her theirs’

wishes on dandelion puffs and shooting stars and each and every 11:11, wishes for a lot of things - they never come true, but she keeps wishing.

loves romance novels, and period / historical dramas/romances especially. like, frankly obsessed

has a collection of erotica novels, too.

sleeps around often but there’s no guarantee that she won’t get attached to who she’s sleeping with.

la croix fan :/

got onto the cheer team the same way she got into perkins. crying to the coach. but she does have immaculate form, so.

can’t say no to anybody, about anything and for anything its a genuine Problem she feels like she always Has to do what people ask because that’s how you get people to like you (no it isnt!)

tdlr; she listens to marina and the diamonds, lana del rey, and mitski far more than any normal fucking person would and that should be enough to describe her.

wanted connections.

okay so i kind of imagine her as being New to radcliffe so these may not be instantaneous but.

a ride or die... someone tht she wld probably die fr at the drop of a pin or w/e, they dn’t have to be Her ride or die though,, y’know what i mean

bad influences... she’s very impressionable and wants to fit in with people... they cld get her to do anything...

people she annoys... she does that a lot :/ she’s just intense. high care. needy.

friends! just friends... please ... give her friends ... she’ll lay down her life for them ...

a drug dealer... y’know ... just fr funsies.

party pals... needless 2 say ...

unrequited feelings... mostly if not entirely on her part, because she’ll ‘fall in love’ with just about anybody

attachments... that she has on other people. just won’t quit!

new yorkians... who might’ve known her in her youth! she went to a public school.

associated with caleb... people who only know her because she’s caleb’s bastard sister

bad time... something went wrong along the way of their friendship and now it’s ... super bad ... 

enemies... she’ll probably cry to your face or maybe even yell at u! who knows! u hate each other.

perkins roommate... i repeat, mayhaps a perkins roommate? who got thrust with her in the middle of the semester?

something soft... idk what ... cld be cute

the world is our oyster ... we can always brainstorm too... idk!! she’s new in town!! john mulaney vc !!

[gaveherhearttotheliontattoo]

Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part VIII)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2347

Warnings: Very brief mention of self-harm

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: I’m not caught up on Season 13 yet so that’s why it’s not keeping up with the show. Hope you enjoy.

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here)

-

Your lungs burned as you ran through the trees. It was dark and you had no idea where you were running. You wanted to stop, sit down, lay down, anything to just breathe, but you couldn’t. You had no idea if your chaser was close or not, you couldn’t hear anything over your heart thudding in your chest. Up ahead you could make out light, maybe from street lights. You pushed yourself harder. As the light got brighter you felt a sense of relief until you tripped. Wincing you pushed yourself up, your ankle twinging as you stepped. You took a few deep breaths before taking a few more steps. You were just about to pick up your pace when two hands gripped your shoulders.

“(Y/N)!”

You looked around, you knew that voice. You kicked back at your attacker but missed. You were spun but all you could see was darkness. You reached out, attempting to push and punch your attacker off of you.

“(Y/N)! Hey, can you hear me? Come on, wake up.”

Wake up? You looked around you. The hands on your shoulder started shaking you. You closed your eyes and kept fighting off your attacker. It was so dark, you wanted to go back to the light you were running towards.

Dean stared down at you. You were dripping sweat and when your sweet (Y/E/C) eyes finally looked up at him he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“You scared the hell out of me (Y/L/N).”

Groaning you sat up. You reached up to run your hands through your hair but pulled them away when you felt the dampness. The air conditioning mixed with your sweat was an odd combination and you weren’t sure whether you should be cold or not.

“You okay?”

You glanced up and saw a red mark beneath Dean’s right eye. “Did I do that?”

“Yeah, you’ve got quite the jab.” When you looked down Dean tilted your chin back up. “Want to tell me what was going on?”

“I was running. I don’t know what or who I was running from but I just kept running. My lungs burned, my heart felt like it was gonna pop out of my chest, but I saw a light so I pushed on. I tripped though and when I got back up something was wrong with my ankle so I had to move slower and then I felt two hands on my shoulders. Thinking back on that it was probably you I really felt cause then I heard you yelling at me. Then that world went dark and I opened my eyes to find you leaning over me.”

“You started moving a lot and when I tried to wake you up, you punched me. I started shaking you and finally you opened your eyes.”

“Sorry about punching you.” You glanced down at your shirt clinging to your body. “I should take a shower.”

Dean cupped your face in his hands and brought his lips to yours. “Just wanted to say good morning properly.”

You glanced over to the other bed, noted it was empty. “Did Sam see any of this?”

“He was gone before I woke up. Probably went to grab breakfast or something. Do you want to take a shower?”

Your heart kicked back up to pounding as you considered his question.

Dean watched your eyes cast down and knew where your brain went. “On your own (Y/L/N).”

“Right.” You stood up and felt your knees give out. Sitting on the edge of the bed you glanced over your shoulder at Dean. “I think that dream knocked me down a peg and I’m about to knock myself down a peg by asking you to help me to the bathroom.”

Dean walked around and lifted you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. He walked you to the bathroom and set you on the counter. “What was chasing you? I haven’t known you very long but this seems to have really shaken you up.”

“It was dark, I never saw its face.” You watched Dean start the shower. “Dean?”

“What’s up (Y/L/N)?”

“After I’m in the shower would you sit in here?”

Dean stared at you, unsure of how he should react. Of course he would do it but he was already fighting to ask to just get in the shower with you. This was crazy. You’d only known each other a few weeks; however, he wasn’t used to not sleeping with someone he was interested in. There was something about you that drove him absolutely crazy, but in a good way, if that was possible. Dean walked out and grabbed your bag, dropping it on the counter.

“You know I will. Now, get changed and I’ll let Sammy know what’s going on so he doesn’t come back and freak out.”

You reached out, gripping Dean’s forearm. “I don’t want him to worry.”

“If he comes back and hears the showering running and neither of us are present he’s going to think we’re in here together.”

“And, technically, he’ll be right.” You moved your hand down to his and tugged him closer. “Sam is my best friend, I need to be the one to talk to him about this. It’s going to freak him out.”

“Okay, well I’ll just turn around while you get in the shower.” Dean turned towards the door. He stared at the hinges. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he heard your clothes hit the tile. He was a grown man, why was he struggling so hard to control himself.

You stepped under the warm stream of water and pulled the curtain closed. Just beyond the curtain was Dean and he was just sitting there waiting for you, being there for you. As you scrubbed the soap through your hair and scratched your scalp you imagined it was Dean running his fingers through your hair. Well, that might not have been your brightest idea.

“Hey, uh, Dean?”

“What is it?”

You poked your head around the curtain and found him sitting with his back against the door, legs bent. “I was wondering, well, if-”

“Dean! (Y/N)! Couldn’t you two save it for another time?”

Rolling his eyes Dean stood up and placed his hand on the door handle.

“Dean, no!” Your voice was quiet but he still looked at you with wide eyes. You had two options: tell Sam about your dream and freak him out, distracting him from the case, or have Dean join you and wait to tell Sam until you’ve got a better understanding of whatever happened while you were sleeping. You stared at Dean, hating yourself for what you were about to do to Sam.

“Get in here.” Dean’s jaw dropped and he didn’t move. “Dean. I can’t tell him yet. I have no explanation and he’s going to immediately jump into protective mode and forget about this case and that’s the last thing I need. So drop your pants Winchester and get in the shower.”

“Chuck give me strength.” Dean pulled his shirt over his head and then dropped his pants. Dean glanced at you and watched you close the curtain to avoid looking at him. He dropped his boxers and stepped in behind you. He kept his back to you, trying to keep a safe distance. What in Chuck was he doing? “You can come in Sammy.”

You heard the door click open and you popped your head around the curtain. “What’s up Sam?”

“Three more girls went missing last night.”

You felt your heart drop. What could it possibly be? You glanced over to the other side of the curtain where Dean was poking his head out.

“We’ll be out in a minute Sam.”

Dean watched Sam go and you bring your head back into the shower. He knew you were upset. He brought himself back into the shower and slowly faced you. He kept his eyes trained on the back of your head and stepped closer. He placed a hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer you comfort somehow.

You turned and looked up at Dean’s eyes. “Dean…”

Dean lowered his head and captured your lips in his. He placed his hands on your hips, fighting the urge to bring you closer. He was already afraid you could feel how much he wanted you.

You wrapped your hands around Dean’s neck and stepped closer. This was wrong. You were just upset about this case. It wasn’t right to be using Dean. You should just rinse your hair and get out of the shower, but the minute you felt Dean’s arousal against you you knew you wanted this distraction.

Dean pulled away and placed his forehead against yours. “We shouldn’t.”

Instead of responding you leaned your head back letting the water run over your hair, rinsing the soap out. You raised your arms and ran your fingers through your hair, intentionally pushing your breasts out towards Dean. Who were you?

Dean let his hands trail up your sides, grazing your breasts, and then sliding back down. “You’re killing me (Y/N).”

You finished rinsing your hair and then placed your hands on his shoulders. You leaned up and pressed one final kiss to his lips before pushing him back. You pulled away and turned the water off. “I can’t be mean to both brothers today so let’s dry off and go solve this case.”

------

As you walked out of the station with Sam you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be another dead end.

“Are you okay?”

You stopped with your hand on the door and looked at Sam over the top of the car. “It’s day two and there’s still nothing more than knowing people are missing, and all females at that.”

“Let’s call the parents again. See if they’ve heard anything.”

You yanked the door open, dropped yourself into the car and then slammed the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam stared at you. You’d been best friends long enough he knew there was something more going on. “Is it Dean? I knew this was going to happen.”

“It’s not Dean.”

“Well, then what is it?”

You stared out the window and wished Sam would just start the car and head back to the motel room. You couldn’t tell him about the dream yet but you hated lying to him. This was your best friend. He saved you from yourself, from the downward spiral you had found yourself in. You hated talking about your past, it wasn’t happy, or at least not happy for the most part. After everything the two of you had been through together you couldn’t help yourself, you had to be honest with him.

“I let you believe Dean and I were showering together this morning instead of telling you the truth as to why we were in the bathroom together.” Taking a deep breath you smoothed your palms over your pants. “I woke up this morning, after hitting your brother in the face because I was having a nightmare. I have absolutely no information or what it means, if it means anything, and I didn’t want to tell you in case you freaked out and forgot about this case.” Sam looked like he wanted to argue but you knew better. “I know you. Don’t argue with me on this. I love you Sam, and I’m sorry I hid this from you, but I don’t know what could have possibly been chasing me, putting its hands on me or anything. I know I was projecting Dean trying to wake me up in my dream as this monster attacking me but there was something so real about it.”

“Okay, I want to come back to this but, first, Dean was in the shower with you.”

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about?” When Sam just stared at you you shrugged. “I woke up drenched in sweat and when I went to stand up my legs were like jello, so Dean picked me up and got everything ready for me in the shower. The dream had me so spooked I asked Dean to stay in the bathroom while I showered. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the door. When you knocked I freaked out and told Dean to get in the shower with me and lie to you because I was too afraid to tell you the truth. So, yeah, Dean stripped down and got in the shower with me and we lied to you.” You scratched at your wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Sam pulled your hands apart and held them with his. “You’re my best friend (Y/N). I understand why you didn’t tell me, you know me well, but I freak out because I care. I can multitask, we can deal with this case as well as figuring out what was up with your dream.”

“It was probably nothing. Let’s focus on the case and then we can figure out the dream if it happens again.”

Sam stared at you, glanced down to your wrists and then back up to your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go back to the room and make some calls.” You glanced at your phone and noticed a missed call and voicemail. You opened up the voicemail and pressed play.

“Hi Agent Jones, this is JoAnn, Allison’s mother. I didn’t know who I should call about this but my daughter showed up this morning and she just doesn’t seem like herself. If you could call me back, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do right now. She won’t talk to me and has locked herself in her room. She looked like she had been out in the woods. Please, call me back.”

“We need to go to JoAnn Waters’ house now.”

Sam didn’t even question you as he took a left instead of a right. Maybe you were finally getting a lead.

[etudaire]

A big bang of “how to” stuff

There I was again tonight forcing laughter faking smiles so I made up this long ass post for y'all!

So you a potato. Me a potato. World conquered by we potatoes. But potato need survival tips. So your brotato (get it? Bro potato?) help you out. Yay potato. Go go potato.

Study related stuff :

1. Get good grades

Catch concepts, not chapters. Your portion is most likely gonna be super vast, so it’s helpful to know a little something from every chapter rather than knowing just 50% of your syllabus.

Figure out which concepts are important and master them.

Keep all assignments completed at least 1 day before submission date. This isn’t always possible but trust me if you do this you’re guaranteeing marks for proper submission. Job done early? Proof check and add touches to enhance that essay!

Let the teachers know that you’re working hard. I actually passed math because my math teacher knew I was working super hard on my math skills. Participate in the class, gather a bunch of doubts and then dump them on your teacher when the chapter ends.

Try not to miss lectures because chances are you’ll remember that silly mnemonic your friend made up in class and get the answer correct.

Analysis of your exam type is super important. Want me to make a long ass post about it?

2. Be more productive

Having a stuydjo/bujo by your side helps hella lot.

Plan plan plan. Lists, organise lists and colour code them. Basically become Monica Geller Bing and you’re set for life.

Motivational quotes from pinterest almost make me guilty for not being productive and force me to do something.

Before starting your study session, dance around to upbeat music for like 5 minutes. You’ll see the difference I promise.

Seek out inspiration from your smart friends /tumblr friends /people you look up to by constantly reminding yourself about them. I always think of hermione granger because even randomly picturing her with books in my mind ignites that badass boss feeling complying me to study tf up.

3. Manage your time

Studyjo/bujo saves your life.

Wear a watch all the damn time, it will remind you of how much time you’re spending doing nothing. You’ll end up saving several extra minutes!

List out what you’re gonna do every hour of the day on a sticky note and refer to it when you feel lazy.

Get a super nice friend /parent /sibling who will constantly remind you to utilise your time.

Think of time as currency and pretend that it’s all a game where you need to save up as much money as you can to become a billionaire. Save up your time and become rich af.

4. Avoid procrastinating

Stduyjo/bujo again. You know the drill now.

A little bit of exercise before starting work generally works you up and sets the correct mood.

Knowing how ahead your friends are from you often makes you wanna catch up so try getting that motivation.

Set goals + rewards that actually matter to you. Maybe a face care spa day isn’t your thing but munching on a snickers bar is. Treat yo self.

Tell someone a detailed plan of what you are going to accomplish the next day. Now whenever you see that person you’ll want to prove to them that you’re doing what you promised. Or the guilt may drive you too.

Appearance related stuff :

1. Look more put together

Try the lipstick trick. There are days when you do not have the time /want to put on makeup, so just put on a lipstick that matches your outfit and you’ll automatically create an illusion of being more put together, boss af and fabulous.

Try out cheap (potato can’t afford sorry) but elegant accessories. If it’s a necklace try tucking it under the collar of your shirt and see the magic. Stick to one staple accessory that’s gonna be your trademark.

Tame that mane potato. Your hair isn’t gonna detangle itself. You gotta do it. I mean, don’t you love your hair?

Minimalistic colours rock. Some outfits never go old like flannels or white shirts or black dresses.

2. Feel beautiful

The lipstick does the trick for me.

Putting my hair in a sky high ponytail makes me feel like I’m a queen or something.

Save little compliments for yourself as reminders and when you get them you’ll feel 10x more beautiful than before.

Mind related stuff :

1. Deal with burnout/slump

Try to accomplish super tiny stuff. Break down every task into micromolecular basics.

Give yourself a ted talk. It works.

Sometimes the best way of dealing with burnout is by detoxing from the thing that caused burnout. Stay away form books and after some time you’ll actually want to study.

2. Study with slumps/mental illness

Step one is to finish homework /assignments. If you can concentrate on them, you’re good to go.

Do not take up a lot of load, just skimming through textbooks, reviewing notes, going over flashcards should do the trick.

If you desperately need to get shit done, just ignore the fact that you do not want to do it. It’s harsh on your mind but desperate times require desperate measures.

Avoid forcing yourself to study because you’ll not retain info like that.

Take it easy. But consistently. Maybe just one topic a day. But do not miss a day. A steady everyday practice goes long way in the future.

3. Strengthen self control

There are several apps that can help you with this, like forest. My top pick is the Tide app which has a gorgeous interface and super aesthetic timers with new pictures everyday. I shit you not every time I quit my pomodoro I feel the guilt of having killed 1000 puppies its worse and I avoid doing that at all costs.

If you study in your room, keep your phone in the kitchen for some time. Your lazy ass is less likely to get up and use the phone.

Switching the phone off before starting a study session works because I care for my phone like a baby and it feels horrible to switch it on and off and on and off.

Practice 30 minutes of digital detox everyday. You don’t have to study at that time, just stay away from everything that is technology. Read and book, eat a fruit, make a sandwich, paint, sing, dance, exercise. Study if you want. Just no gadgets.

4. Deal with stress

Yoga works. Potato body ain’t that flexible so just breathing exercises for a start is also enough.

Highly recommended : brain dump every night before sleeping can ensure that you’ll not stay up too late pondering over the meaning of your existence and world politics.

Having a hearty talk with someone you trust will also lift weight off your chest.

Pin point the cause of your stress and annihilate the problem. Slay it.

Life related stuff :

1. Drink more water

Carry a cool ass bottle of water with you every frigging where.

Make it a rule to have a drink everytime you go to the loo or you take a bath /shower.

Replace one of your daily caffeines /sugars with water. You don’t have to get rid of coffee because that’s just non potato ish, but maybe that third cup could be replaced with water.

Try a game thingy. Maybe everytime the word ‘procrastination’ pops in your mind take a drink. Wow, I’m so creative *sighs for eternities*.

2. Be more healthy

5 minute stretches right after getting up works you up.

Try one of those YouTube videos of 15 minute workouts. You can have 3 such workouts through the day and call yourself a fit potato.

Replacing one packet of junk food with nuts/fruits also works.

Everytime you hear someone say something related to money, have a banana. Random much? Nope, bananas are known to increase hormones that make you happy in your body, meaning you’ll feel full and happy. Maybe offer the person a banana too.

3. Be more happy

Eat bananas!

Take pictures of things you love, not things your followers love.

Puppies are a source of eternal joy.

Reading goofy/cheesy/romance books make you giggle and feel good in general.

Watching cheesy films or good ass romcoms works just well.

Friends was created for a reason.

Writing down what you accomplished today gives a sense of pride and satisfaction. Take that shit.

Tumblr has shitposts made basically to make you happy.

4. Find your true calling /figuring tf out what you wanna do with your life

Lists lists lists. Subjects you love, you hate, you’re good at, you suck at.

Consulting your teachers, family etc and find out what they think you’re good at. Sometimes other people can see traits of yours better than you.

Career tests rock.

You’ll figure it out in the end somehow.

And that’s about it for now folks, hope this helps. See y'all laterz~

Etudaire ♥

[warsstag]

                                             JAMES F. POTTER.

                                   twenty. order member. probable trouble maker.                                                 junior auror / in his last year of training.                                                  ex-gryffindor. rebellious. mischievous.                                                          cocky. courageous. moody.                                                                       pinterest.                                                           

BACKGROUND.

James grew up in a large and airy house situated by the beach in Norfolk, England. The house was painted blue, and was a little bit on the older side, which you could tell by the deteriorating panels, which needed constant upkeep. The house and the grounds themselves weren’t exactly suitable for children, with sharp cliffs close to the water, steep staircases inside the house and an attic with a window that just seemed to invite for someone to try to climb onto the roof. The house itself was also very cozy, though. Floorboards that creaked, paintings with a vast amount of personalities ( catch James bickering with the sailor in the painting in the living room, any day ), warmth from the fireplace, walls painted in soft blues and whites and browns, old furniture that has come to mean something over the generations. The house itself had a lot of personality - Potters ( on his father’s side of the family ) had lived in it for generations, all bringing something new to the place, a new touch. Since the house has been inhabited by Euphemia and Fleamont, new life has been breathed into its walls. Brighter colors have crept into the usually bleak decor. They’ve brought warmth, beautiful patterns and personality to the house.

James’ room was located on the second floor of the house. It was big, with walls painted in red and black, and the decor being very much influenced by his favorite Quidditch teams. He also has a flying carpet hanging over his bed.

When friends stayed over, they usually stayed in the attic. It had been kindly decorated by his mother to be a sort of guest room ( mostly with James + friends in mind, lbr ). James and pals sitting on the roof at night, counting stars, is an aesthetic too, I would say.

James grew up playing Quidditch on the beach and constantly scaring his parents half to death when pushing himself a little too far. Flying a little too close to the cliffs. Dipping his toes in the water. Doing backflips.

Was sort of a lonely child, because their house was a little bit secluded, and there weren’t a lot of kids around. James mostly played with his dogs.

His parents were a little bit on the older side of things. Euphemia, his mother, was nearing forty two when he was born. Fleamont, his father, was forty nine. They had both wanted a child for so long, and had most definitively given up hope by the time James finally came along. Homeboy is always late.

His mother was incredibly empathetic, compassionate and kind. She was also very driven, and so so clever. 

She moved to England after finishing her education at the best wizarding school in India ---- where she scored top marks, and used all of her free time to delve into muggle sciences. Mathematics, chemistry and biology would soon become second nature to her. She moved to England in order to work at a magical research institute, developing potions ( she was also the kind of witch to believe that muggle science and magic shouldn’t necessarily cancel each other out ).

So Euphemia Potter ( née Vaidya ) became a potioneer, and a highly educated woman - before James’ birth, she had taken several muggle courses and wizard courses, and held a pHD in chemistry. During her free time, she was also a popular children’s book author, and published several books that were well loved throughout wizard Britain.

Fleamont Potter was also a potioneer, like his wife, —- which is how they met. Working together, bickering about what the best approach to different remedies and potions would be. They challenged each other, constantly making one another better. Though he was more of a businessman, than a scientist, and launched his own successful hair potion company ( Sleekeazy’s Hair Potions ), which he eventually sold for a vast profit. Both Euphemia and Fleamont passed away from complications due to dragon pox shortly after one another, when James was eighteen. They left him a fortune, and their house ( which James doesn’t have the heart to sell, at least not quite yet / probably not ever ).

HOGWARTS YEARS.

James was the kid that somehow got into trouble at the Hogwarts Express during his first year. Before even arriving at the school. And then his second. And then his third. And fourth. At that point, it was basically tradition. That’s how he started every year, and that would also set the tone for the rest of the term.

Also somehow managed to always drag other people into his bullshit? It’s a talent.

His electives at the school were as following: care of magical creatures, alchemy and muggle studies.

Very Gryffindor™, but would have done well in Hufflepuff too, I think.

During his second year, he made the Quidditch team, and became a chaser. After that point, Quidditch basically became his life. Wouldn’t shut up about it. And he also knew that he was good, so his head grew about ten sizes probably.

Had zero impulse control. Was the type to punch first, ask questions later. On that note, James got into quite a few brawls with other boys at the school. Most fights were rooted in 1) James getting annoyed by their pureblood elitism 2) someone insulting one of his friends 3) possibly trying to show off, just a bit.

Emotional maturity, while at Hogwarts? Sorry, who?

May or may not have some sort of record in most detentions in a year. Every year. Which.... he was kinda proud of.... 

Was active in a lot of clubs !! His personal favorite was the dueling club.

Managed to keep his grades up without much effort. Teachers were lowkey perplexed as to why someone as bright as James would CONSTANTLY cause problems / trouble. James was mostly in it for the thrill, the fun, and the risk. Taking unnecessary risks ( often putting himself in danger ) was kind of his thing? And he’s still doing that.

Was infamous for having a mood that changed like the weather, often quickly and without warning. Could be smiling one minute, and be incredibly testy the next. Was unfortunately also infamous for showing off, mostly through hexing people that he didn’t like. He was also quite inventive, and made up hexes with the sole purpose of embarrassing his enemies further.

Sometime during his fifth year at the school, he became an animagus, mostly to help Remus during the full moons. He also saw it as a challenge, and a bit of a test — to see how good they truly were, how far they could push themselves. ‘Could they do this, too? Where’s their limit?’

Also made Quidditch Captain !!!! Can’t believe this man achieved all his dreams at the age of 15....

Eventually mellowed out a bit during his sixth year, grew up a bit, became a little less full of himself. Could see things clearer. Though the pranks and the mischief in reality became more elaborate ( as he was growing older, and also bolder ), he found other ways to entertain himself that didn’t always involve hexes.

Was also slowly growing out of his teenage angst, so that definitively helped. Though the occasional punching without thinking still… occurred.

In his seventh year, he was made Head Boy. Was probably not the best for the job, but he showed up to everything he was supposed to, and didn’t make a total fool out of himself either. Also decided it would be best to be more lowkey, so he stopped getting caught. He still sneaked out of the school, but he was more careful about it, you feel?

POST HOGWARTS.

James enrolled in auror training the day of graduation. With the war weighing heavy on his shoulders, he didn’t see any other options, any other futures. Though he had idolized aurors since he first heard of them as a child, there were still other roads that he could have taken, if there hadn’t been the urgency of war pushing him towards action – doing something good. He could have pursued playing Quidditch professionally, could have worked with dragons, could have been a hit wizard. Mostly, really, any action packed job would have suited him ( and he had the grades to choose any profession he would have liked ). In the end, the war chose for him.

Joining the aurors just felt right. He passed extensive aptitude tests (which made him a little impatient tbh, he just wanted to get out there, do stuff) and soon started his first year of training.

Auror training has been lowkey hard on him, though? It’s so exhaustive, very serious, no room for errors. Luckily, James is about as stubborn as they come, and is determined to get through it. It’s just another challenge, right?

Now, he’s one of those mini aurors lowkey following the older aurors around. Probably being annoying while doing it.

Joining the Order and the aurors has definitively sobered James up a bit. Made him more responsible, a little less impulsive. But unfortunately not less reckless with his own life. Taking dumb risks, all the fucking time, is still his brand.

Has somehow managed to not kill someone himself yet. Sure, he has wounded and hurt a lot of Death Eaters. There is blood on his hands for sure. But it will also 4 sure change James once he Kills Someone With Intent, u feel.

PERSONALITY.

James ultimately has a heart made of gold, and is constantly trying to prove himself by showing off just how good he is at what he does. This adds up to a bit of a hero complex, tbh.

Is 1000000% his son’s father and I try to play into that... a lot... 

James usually has a stupid grin glued to his face ( the cocky kind, often a little crooked, as if he knows something you don’t ). He never stays serious for long, and is in the habit of playing serious things off as a dumb joke.

Known for being highly unpredictable and volatile, and can change from bright and smiling to tense and sour in the matter of minutes. He’s usually the former though.

That fun mix between Atlas, Icarus and Achilles, tbh !!

Radiates energy ! He’s such a lively person, like a human espresso. Kinda short compared to his pals, definitively a little bitter, high energy.

Was raised to be polite and pleasant, so he has good manners. 

Pays little regard to rules in general though, and usually does not respond well to authority ( but it kinda depends on who it is too? Like. He can semi-behave while at the auror’s office, and respects them… but is also the guy who plays pranks on his co workers constantly ). WILL also get himself into trouble by mouthing off if he thinks someone is in the wrong at work ( common situation is that someone else suggests that they hold off on going in on a death eater nest & James is not a fan ).

Constantly taking things as a challenge! Even if they definitively aren’t a challenge.

Kinda moody.

Definitively that guy that tries to light up a shitty situation with an even shittier joke.

Bad at following orders. Usually winging it. There are only really two people that he will properly listen to, we all know who they are.

Very loyal !!!! Would die for his pals. : ~) Would kill for them, too.

A sentimental bastard.

Smokes way too much. Knows it isn’t good for him, but got hooked back in school, when he thought it made him look cool.

Loves teasing people. Can be a bit mean spirited at times, but he usually doesn’t mean any harm by it.

Doesn’t know how to pick his battles.

Known for being way too impulsive for his own good. He acts first, thinks later.

Has a Queen playlist on repeat probably.

James is so bright, but also so so dumb. I hate him.

Can be really confrontational. Will deadass fight u.

[zephfair]

Grimmjow, accidental beauty blogger?

Inspired by my own stupid post and @the8thsphynx priceless comment. I was hit by the crack fairy after I realized that I had no idea how Pinterest actually works, so I made this up as I went. And thanks to my friend @dreamywritingdragon I even figured out my Pinterest name! xD I’m dumb.

The vibration of his phone woke Grimmjow with a snort. He opened one gummy eye just enough to squint as he fished under his pillow for the phone. For fuck’s sake, who the hell messaged him at the crack of 1 p.m. on a Sunday?

His head throbbed from the weekend’s parties as he finally held the phone, but peeling his other eye open didn’t help the messages make sense.

Yuzulemon: HI! I really love your stuff, your hair is so pretty! The color is beautiful and it looks so soft! I just wondered if you have any advice for keeping it long? Like, I’m trying to convince my brother to grow his out but he says it would be too much trouble?

Yuzulemon: Also you’re really cute trying out the makeup. You go, boy! That green really suits you!

Both messages were sprinkled with emojis, but Grimmjow still couldn’t understand. They were sent to his personal Jmail account, but he’d never heard of the chick. So he ignored it and rolled over, but the phone vibrated again.

Yuzulemon: Sorry to keep bothering you, but how long did it take to get your hair that long? I think if I can get my brother past the first stage so he can pull it up, he’ll be OK. Did you do ponytails a lot? Or man-buns? It looks nice the way you have it now too!

Grimmjow had enough.

BigBadGrimm: STFU I don’t know who the fuck you are but leave me alone.

He’d just dozed back off when the phone vibrated in his hand. Groaning, he swiped the message open but this time it was from another account.

Oneberry: Hey asshole, that’s my sister you upset. Don’t be a dick and stop posting shit of yourself if you don’t want comments on it.

Posting shit? What? Grimmjow managed to sit up against the bed’s headboard and swallow a few times to fend off the nausea. He’d had a good weekend, a big party Friday night at a sorority and another huge party Saturday, first at a bar and then finishing at the house he shared with friends. They didn’t join a fraternity, but they nicknamed the house Hueco Mundo and they definitely knew how to party.

Grimmjow vaguely remembered getting into a fight with Nnoitra and Szayelaporro about something, but that wasn’t unusual. They were usually pissing each other off over anything from who ate what food to putting the moves on the wrong person someone else had called dibs on.

He definitely didn’t have any recollection of posting anything online last night.

He thumbed out a reply: Fuck you. And your sister.

Since he was awake and cranky, Grimmjow swept through the rest of his Jmail account and saw a series of mails from Wintrest. Wasn’t that the site that suburban moms used to look at pictures of food and house shit? Grimmjow had certainly never even glanced at the site, let alone signed up for an account.

Only he had. Or someone had. There was a welcome email and a verify-the-account email, both of which were marked read. Grimmjow scowled at the screen as he saw recommended lists for him to check and then, to his growing horror, several reactions to “his” posts.

“Oh shit,” he grumbled as he opened one. Then his messenger vibrated with a message.

Oneberry: You don’t get to say that. That’s my sister, you despicable sack of shit. Hdu. You’re an asshole and I’ll post this so everyone can see your asshole ways.

BigBadGrimm: Go ahead, what do I care

The first post Grimmjow opened made him swear loudly. The picture had been taken his first year at university, when he’d still had the super-long hair that he always loudly claimed gave him the most energy and power. His friends had mocked him ruthlessly so he’d cut it off eventually, but he remembered doing that pose one night, looking back over his shoulder, smirking for the camera, all his luscious, wavy hair flowing down his back. It was that bitch-ass Szayel who’d taken it.

To his extreme amazement and annoyance, the picture had already been liked seven times. Under it, with the badly misspelled mess characteristic to Nnoitra, was something about washing his hair only in seltzer water because the bubbles gave it body.

He snarled and went to the next one and the next. Most of them were his long hair in various stages, when it seemed like it had a mind of its own. Each had some asinine “advice” like only washing it when the moon was full or dipping it in beer in between so it could drink and be bouncy.

Then he saw one that he knew Ulquiorra had taken in their dorm bathroom freshman year. Grimmjow had his hair pulled back off his face with a thick headband and the rest tied up sloppily on his head as he leaned over the sink brushing his teeth, his eyes gazing into the mirror.

Under that were some suggestions on maintaining the whitest teeth with frequent brushing and even more applications of liquor. Grimmjow gnashed his teeth as if he imagined them biting into a certain someone’s tender white throat.

His traitorous phone vibrated twice.

Oneberry: You’re at Karakura right? I’ll find your ass and make you sorry. Dick. My sister was just trying to be nice.

Oneberry: You don’t even look good. Who the fuck grows their hair into a mullet that long?

Grimmjow pinched his nose. The last few pics were more recent. They were from gatherings all over campus, with him in various stages of undress, showing his current hair and trademark grin, although he noticed his “friends” had been carefully cropped out of each shot. The last one from Halloween was a video and he steeled himself to press the play arrow.

It was only a few seconds of when he’d been beside Szayel at a mirror, sarcastically narrating the process as he applied the makeup for his costume. He winced at his affected voice as he swiped green eyeshadow in exaggerated swirls all around his eyes and pouted for the camera that he knew was being held by Nnoitra.

There was only one thing to do.

Those bastards were dead.

Of course they had just used his phone to log in to Jmail, so they didn’t even have to make up new accounts. If Grimmjow hadn’t been so hungover and so angry, he might have admired that they’d actually taken that much time and trouble to fuck him over. But he didn’t care about that; he just wanted to wring their necks.

Then he realized that there were a couple comments under most of the pictures, and every single one of them was positive. Even the one that some dickwad posing as him—it had Nnoitra all over it—claimed he used jizz to keep his hair in its current coiffed position. The Yuzulemon girl had given it heart-eyes and a laugh then a thumbs-up.

Well, didn’t Grimmjow feel like a dick now.

He slowly and carefully composed a message to Yuzulemon, carefully watching the autocorrect.

Hey, sorry I didn’t know about the pics on Wintrest. I didn’t post them. Some guys did it as a joke. I just woke up and found out. I’m sorry I yelled at you.

He hit send and then quickly opened another message. Thank you for the nice things you said. If you really do have questions about hair, I could try and answer. I let mine grow all through high school. I cut it off last year.

He waited a moment in silence then even more slowly typed, erased and retyped a message to Oneberry.

Hey, sorry about before. My friends made that account to fuck me over. I didn’t know. I apologized to your sister. I shouldn’t have been such an asshat to her.

While he chewed at his thumbnail and waited for a reply, he re-read what Oneberry had sent him more closely.

WTF how do you know I’m at Karakura? You go here too?

There were no replies and Grimmjow was forced to answer the call of nature and retreat to the bathroom. He didn’t run into any of his housemates so he took a long shower before heading back to his room. He was getting dressed and debating what he wanted to try eating when his phone finally buzzed.

Maybe Yuzulemon and Oneberry had needed time to talk to each other. Maybe they were reporting him to someone. Maybe their family had a weird obsession with fruit.

Grimmjow snatched the phone quickly to see a message from Oneberry.

You’re a sick fucker and your friends are worse. Too bad all that hair must have smothered your good manners.

Well, it looked like his very sincere apology wasn’t going to be accepted. He sent back a single character—the middle finger emoji.

He’d just pulled on his shirt when his phone went off. This time he sat down to read the message from Yuzulemon.

That sucks! Your friends are mean! But you could have explained that before you went off on me.

He answered immediately. I know. I’m sorry. Your messages woke me up and I didn’t know what was going on.

Yuzulemon: Well next time you should think before you hit send.

Grimmjow grimaced at the string of emojis, but he had to admit the kid was right.

Yeah, ok, he wrote back.

Yuzulemon answered quickly. Sorry that my brother went after you. He was sitting here when I got your reply and he’s kinda Big Brother sometimes. He goes to Karakura too.

Grimmjow just had to ask. How do you know where I go to school?

Yuzulemon: *series of laughing emojis* We live in Karakura and your pics showed campus in the background.

Yuzulemon: Oops, not your pics but the pics you were in. My bro is a freshman.

Well, at least that explained that. He felt a little better that they hadn’t actually stalked him or anything.

Nice. I’m a junior.

Yuzulemon: Do you have a gf? Bf?

Grimmjow stared at his phone and didn’t know how to answer. He was definitely not into high school or younger girls, which she must be if her “big” brother was only a freshman.

Then his phone vibrated in a fury.

Oneberry: YUZU WTF

Oneberry: WHAT ARE YOU DOING QUIT TALKING TO HIM

And Grimmjow realized Yuzulemon had been copying Oneberry in on their latest conversation. Shit.

Yuzulemon: It’s OK! He’s nice!

Grimmjow quickly typed I only date guys. There, that should get the brother off his back before he blew his top again.

Yuzulemon: Cool, you should get together with Ichi and talk him into letting his hair grow. I think he would look SO GOOD with long hair like yours.

Oneberry: YUZU IM NOT KIDDING IM BREAKING INTO YOUR ROOM STOP IT

Grimmjow couldn’t help a laugh. I don’t think your brother would like that.

Yuzulemon: Why not? You could at least tell him what a tattoo feels like. He’s always threatening Dad that he’s going to get one but Dad won’t let him.

How do you know about my tattoos?

Yuzulemon: I could see them peeking out from under your hair in the shirtless pics!

Oneberry: YUZU IM TELLING DAD IF YOU DONT OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW

Grimmjow felt weirdly exposed.

Yuzulemon: Here’s a pic I took of Ichigo last week.

Grimmjow felt something totally different when the picture loaded.

Oneberry: NEVERMIND IM CLIMBING THE TREE AND BUSTING THE WINDOW IF I HAVE TO STOP TALKING TO THIS FREAK

This Ichigo had a killer six-pack and was holding up the bottom of his T-shirt to show it off. His mouth was open in a scowl as if he were telling the picture taker not to do it. The picture cut off at his nose, but Grimmjow liked what he saw.

Yuzulemon: Why don’t you two meet up for coffee tonight? He’s usually only in class or at the gym but I think he needs more friends.

Yuzulemon: He won’t admit it, but I think he likes your hair too. *series of winky and kissy faces*

Grimmjow rubbed his hand over his face. This was the strangest and most bizarre way he’d ever been set up in his life, but damn if he didn’t almost want to meet the guy.

I don’t think we have much in common. Thanks anyway.

Yuzulemon: Don’t say that! He likes reading and music and mixed martial arts and all kinds of fun stuff!

Oneberry: SO HELP ME YUZU IF I FALL OUT THIS TREE

Yuzulemon: Here’s his number. Text him directly. I have to go see if he really fell. Maybe you could visit him in the hospital!

Grimmjow let out a long breath and barked another laugh.

But he saved the number. Just in case.

And he clicked on the link Yuzu provided to go to her Wintrest page. After a few minutes of looking through the recipes and desserts she’d apparently tried and succeeded at, he followed her. Since his “friends” had been so kind to make him an account, he might as well not let it go to waste.

He stripped his shirt back off, pulled his jeans down low on his hips and with some twisting and fumbling, managed to take a good picture of one of his back tattoos with his own smirk visible in the mirror. It didn’t take long for him to figure out how to upload it to Wintrest with a special comment.

Don’t have much to say about hair or makeup, but I do like tattoos and working out. And I could give advice to any dumbass trying to climb a tree—DON’T.

He didn’t even have to wait a minute before Yuzulemon liked his post and gave it about a hundred heart eyes.

Ego properly stoked, Grimmjow pocketed his phone when he heard the shouting and slamming doors that indicated some of his housemates returning from wherever. After he dealt them a righteous retribution of asskicking, he might just text Ichigo. He couldn’t be as bad as Grimmjow’s own friends, could he?

[laguanrodgers]

While Waiting

(A Short Story by LaGuan R Rodgers)

I never liked when my stepfather would drive me to school. It wasn’t because I was embarrassed by his car; the ’87 Pontiac got us where we needed to be and then some. It was more so how I found him to be weak. He let my mom rule him, and somehow I thought his frayed machismo might find my skin like a plotting ointment. I found myself studying the sky for planes from that backseat window, most of all trying to guess exactly where a given hunk of traveling metal and its passengers were off to. I’m pretty sure my guesses were always confined to the states, as the geography of thinking beyond and what places fit where would get lost just around the time Sean’s car would halt and I’d shuffle to homeroom.

“Can I get you anything else, maestro?” my waiter asks. For the past twenty minutes or so, I’ve been slowly sipping a black coffee and picking at this dry blueberry muffin, waiting for Gianna to arrive. I’m not buying anything else. She is lucky I agreed to come to this damn diner. The parking is so so and some of our most memorable arguments happened in the booths here. Whoever made the menu goes skimp on the omelet and there’s something I don’t trust about their maple syrup like a station with gas prices lower than nearby spots.

“Thanks, buddy, but no I’m ok,” I reply. The waiter has pillows under his eyes, not the glaring hangover or mid-term up all night weights, but somewhat noticeable, especially by another night owl. He has yet to declare his name, and I haven’t cared to ask. I study his veiny hands, and though his short fingernails are without dirt, I suspect he still lets a family member cut his hair. And who the hell is maestro, anyway? I put my head down to tear at the muffin and shift my cup, yet he stays in the same spot. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to the inevitable. The stage where I have to get in his tired face and let him know I’m not with that sugary stuff.

“Their uniforms do nothing for me,” he says.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.

“The Trail Blazers’ uniforms,” he answers, pointing up to the flat screen positioned in the corner. A replay of last night’s game versus Oklahoma City is playing with the volume off.

“Red and black work together, but ugh, they can do better with those bending lines that take up most of the jersey. It’s all too…too…too…I don’t know, but once I think of something better, I should reach out to their people.”

Gianna told me the owner of Swan Street is originally from Portland, and the dude has yet to come to grips he is more than 2,600 miles from home. The pennants and postcards on the wall scream of everything Oregon and his Left Coast Is the Best Coast pie is a hit here in WNY. She made me try it the night we first hooked up. I didn’t like it, but I said I did.  

“I’m a fashion student at Buff State,” the waiter points out.

Oh, wow, that’s what’s up,” is my reply. I give him a look as if to ask why isn’t he serving other people, yet it’s mid-morning and empty, and the rush from the Larkin Building across the street won’t come about until lunch hour.

“Where do you go?”

“Oh, I’m not in school, right now.”

“Guy, I feel you. It’s not for everybody. When you think about it, they’re just teaching us how to make someone else money. Fashion is the closest thing to independence if you ask me. But I hear there’s a big need for the trades nowadays because all of the dinosaurs our grandparents used to call in the Yellow Pages are retiring, and few young folks are stepping into those jobs, you know.”

“Good point,” I say with a shrug. I forgot to put on my Timex, so I’m starting to stare at the spot where the tan line on my wrist will eventually be. Doing odd landscaping gigs two or three times a week every summer will do that. Gianna has been sending me e-mails of jobs here and there. I’ve filled out a few applications online, yet there’s something discouraging about completing questionnaires where you can’t tell the truth. Where the hell is she? For the past six months, we’ve been doing the distance thing after she moved to Albany for some job in a big library. I can’t remember all the details, but she’s happy and spends less time knitting uneven sweaters for her yorkie and sending me recipes off Pinterest she knows I’ll never make on my own. Today is supposed to be the day we decide.

“Coming!” the waiter whose name is Jackson shouts. I now know this little useless tidbit because a male voice from the kitchen yelled his name while I was staring out the window. Three tulips stand at attention from the flower bed that needs just as much attention as the blueberry muffin ingredients. She must think I have all day.

The entrance door swings open. A toddler boy wearing overalls wobbles over the threshold. His mouth already has stains of juice, and he wants no assistance from his parents who give off this que sera, sera vibe. The man and woman scan the room, and locate me in their tripod scope of discovery, only to flash grins at me before muttering some baby gibberish to the little one, as he has already rung the front counter bell enough to awaken something in the basement of a day failing to officially start.

Hey, fine folks, how are you?” Jackson asks the newest patrons, sort of doing some half-hearted skip to the front. “As you can see we are jam packed, but I’m sure we can find something cozy and comfortable for ya.” Everybody laughs, except the tike and I.

“Oh no…no…no, Brady,” the mother says, smiling once she realizes her little person is running toward my booth. She is too late. He grabs the second menu from the table, and waves it wildly like my grandmother sometimes does with those usher appointed fans during stuffy marathon church services.

“You eat,” is what I make out from the boy. “Him eat, right?”

“I’m so sorry,” the mother says. “He’s a traveler.”

I look at the father who just shakes his head, as if there is more he wishes he could tell me over a Cuban and some bourbon.  

By now, the mother comes over to my booth and ushers away her little explorer by the arm.  

“Him eat, right?” continues the boy. “Him do it…”

“Yes, honey,” says his mom. “Go to Daddy.”

“This is why I hate going too many places in a day,” the father says in a tone somewhere between madness and unbridled surrender.

“It’s fine,” the mother says. “It really is ok.”

“Well, let’s get you guys seated,” Jackson breaks in, mustering up a manufactured smile he’s most likely perfected in the back kitchen or voguing outside one of his textile classes.

I look at the clock on the wall behind the front counter, and spread some butter on the muffin.

  When Gianna moved into her upstairs apartment on Claremont Ave. with her two girlfriends, I helped them. Being her boyfriend, I knew such heavier things would fall to me. We found a way to defy trigonometry, stubbornly bending half painted corners with used furniture and appliances. She is the organized type of XX and that day the Eisenhower in her began to bloom. She elected to drive the U-Haul with Jamie and Allison, as I was content to drive my own car and meet them at the new place. My commander of a woman backed the truck on to the lawn, got out and handed her troupe instructions and goals written on loose-leaf. I put the paper in my back pocket, and just grabbed labeled boxes. The first few trips, I placed them where they needed to be, the carefully taped cardboard containing shampoo, tampons, and razors found their home in the bathroom. Maybe it was because no one else’s boyfriends showed up until I was a sweat stained version of former self, or the way Gianna stood in the downstairs doorway with frustration when her full proof battle maps left no margin for things falling apart or how the summer rain would slap our efforts then back pedal into some distant pocket on the other side of town before I could adequately curse it, but I found myself unashamedly putting boxes in rooms where they didn’t belong. We later ate pizza and drank bottled water on the floor, a collegiate picnic of sorts. Both boyfriends whose names I dismissed looked as if they struggled to please any woman, and their talk of IPAs and invites to join a softball league only made my decision to leave more justifiable. “Oh, before you go, lover, can you help me hang these?” Gianna asked me, as she opened a box marked CLOCKS in black sharpie. It wasn’t her handwriting, and as her and I went room to room hanging ticking numbers with power drill and the dull need to be alone, the thought of that stayed long after I left.

 “Hey, Ian,” Gianna says. She leans over and kisses both of my cheeks before sitting down.

“When did you come in? I didn’t even see you.”

“I’m a love ninja,” she declares. “I move in silence.”

“Well, Ms. Storm Shadow, are you having your usual? There’s a new waiter working, and he is full of life.”

“Be nice, lover.”

“What makes you think I’m not.”

“I know you.”

“Do you, really?”

“I’d like to think I know if the man I love is being an asshole or not.”

I still hear the ongoing jabber of my toddler friend from the other side of the diner, and once Jackson discovers I am no longer solo, he darts towards the action.

“You didn’t tell me you were waiting on a lovely guest, my guy,” Jackson shrieks. “Exciting.”

“Good morning,” Gianna says. “Is it still morning? No…wait…it’s technically morning? Sorry my brain is in every county of the state today.”

“No worries, I understand,” Jackson replies. “It’s finals time, and I’m the same way. I’m living the dream, though. Stress and all.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I think I’ll try something new today.”

“You have to get our new red velvet pancakes,” our waiter urges. “To die for!”

“Hmmm, should I?” She calls my name, but I’m staring at little Brady who is biting his straw and too curious to be held at bay by whatever routine conversation his parents may be conducting.

“Ian?”

‘What’s up, GiGi?” I snap back onstage, knowing the second time she calls me is the important one of the two. I shrug and simply say it’s spring.

“I am a horrible server,” Jackson says. “I didn’t start by asking you what you wanted to drink. I’m so caught up in the vibe of you two chirping birds.” Gianna orders the pancakes and asks for orange juice to come when the food arrives.

“Are we going to do this?” she asks.

“I’m prepared either way,” I say.

“That’s not the right answer. It’s been three months.”

“But how are you feeling?” I ask, picking out blueberries I can find in the torn pieces of muffin.

“Ok, I guess,” she says. “I still get sick, and the new clothes fit now.”

I want to bring up something about how I’ve applied to the latest jobs she’s sent me, but I close my eyes and try to take it in every molecule of air in the building.

“What time do you have to be back tonight?” I ask.

“I don’t. I already called in sick for tomorrow.”

“Go easy, you’re going to need those days later down the road.”

“So you’re saying you do want this, right?”

“I want to keep you happy and occupied.”

I turn at the waist and find the tulips outside the window. I wish I could pick all three and the curtain would close.

“And here you go,” Jackson declares with a smile, waiting for immediate approval. “I present delicious pancakes, your juice and our in-house maple syrup.”

“It looks amazing,” Gianna says.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” It’s as if Jackson wishes he were the stack of crimson flapjacks with a melting cube of butter atop.

“We’ve got all the bases covered for now,” she says. With fork and knife in hand, the woman I met at a farmer’s market four summers ago, puts a piece of pancake to my mouth. I submit to her honor, and chew slowly so I can really give her the truth of it all.

“What do you think?”

“They’re actually really good,” I admit.

She takes a bite and her eyes become big with unexpected glee.

“Boy, you better get one more taste because I can’t promise I’ll save anything else.”

“Go ahead,” I say. “It’s all you. You need it for strength. After all…you know…”

“You act like it’s some sort of plague, Ian.”

“No, I don’t. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“A lot.”

“No shit, man,” she says, now with a tear bubbling by the corner of her eye nearest the window.

“We can make it work.”

“Do you really want it to?”

“I’m here.”

“Have you even thought of names?”

“Of course, I have.” Really I haven’t, and now would be a fantastic time for Jackson to save the scene.

“Have you told your mom?” she asks, still eating.

“Yeah, she knows.”

“What are her thoughts?”

“You know my mom, GiGi.”

“I don’t want to play games.”

“I see no ball or joystick.”

“Answer a question for once in your life,” she shouts. By now, the tears have bullied the breakwall and run southward to a place I have little to no access to. It’s one of those classic embarrassing moments when I sense all eyes are upon us, yet I have no hard evidence to support it other than the intuition that comes from past battlefields still ripe with blood. The Larkin Building traffic infiltrates what was an empty place of business.

“My mother told me to be a man,” I say.

Gianna stares at me for awhile before she finishes the plate of pancakes, only leaving streaks of red mingled with the sappy sauce that is the Oregonian’s special recipe. Without as much time to devote to us any longer, our waiter gives me the check and says he hopes to see us soon. I tell him thank you and good luck with his exams before I make my way to the front counter where there is now a female waitress at the register.

“It seems you made a friend,” Brady’s mom says. “He hasn’t stopped talking about the man who eats by himself.” The family of three prepares to leave the diner, a precautionary measure on the part of the husband and father who doesn’t want to cause a scene I suspect.

“Maybe I’ll see you in this joint sometime soon, little man,” I say to Brady. “Be good for your mommy and daddy.”

I foot the bill and tip, and wait for Gianna to come from the bathroom. I know she will want to take a walk and possibly talk more on what is a pleasant afternoon in early May. Once again, I’m looking out the window where I see Brady and his parents walking to their car. The father has little patience, and if it wasn’t for his wife, who knows where that car would go. She is the reason her child gets away with picking one of the tulips I’ve been staring at all morning. That little boy doesn’t have to take unnecessary long walks. If anything, I am sure he fixates on passing airplanes.  

[chandamamakathaluu-blog]

The Unrelenting Fly English Moral Story - Animated Bedtime Stories for K...

The Unrelenting Fly English Moral Story - Animated Bedtime Stories for Kids | Stories of the Forest

The Unrelenting Fly English Moral Story - 3D Animated Bedtime Stories for Kids | Stories of the Forest. #BedtimeStories for kids, Stories of the Forest is an animated series featuring quirky animals and interesting #kidsStories and #3dAnimationStories. Hope you love it! #AnimalsStories The forest was so hot as the sun was shining very very high and hot.King Lion had ordered a flying competition to see who could fly best. All the birds were participating in this competition, from the tiny Nightingale to the hummingbird, to the sweet-mannered Robin, to the unruly and stubborn Crow, the owl that only came out at night, the great Eagle that always disobeyed the winds, the peacock who loved to show its beautiful feathers, even the Sparrow. "To win this competition, you have to be the last bird in the air, and you must come first in the final lap. Do you understand?" King Lion asked. "We do." They all responded. "Very well then, may the best bird win, take your lane. On your mark, Set..." before King Lion could say go, Monkey who was the drum beater had already hit the drum to signify it. "Sorry my king, I was feeling jumpy." All the animals laughed at this. The monkey covering his eyes continued pleading, "it will not repeat itself." "Very good. On your marks, Get set. Ready. Go." This time around, Monkey didn't jump the part. The birds all flew into the air, they were plenty but yet they never seemed to touch themselves in the wide blue sky, the sun had not reduced its hotness one bit. It was still shining angrily. The heat from the sun was making the birds tore out fast, and so before the second lap, most of them were dropping to drink water. Peacock and Turkey flew down to drink water and never returned to the race, the water was so cool, they over drank and ended up with full tummies. The third lap saw almost all the birds dropping, the few that remained were only four - Eagle, Crow, Owl, and Sparrow. The Crow was so hot that his feathers were already soaked with sweat, he couldn't flap his wings anymore. Crow was falling from the sky and there was no one to help him. As Crow was about to land on the hard floor, the Owl swooped him and gathered him, they both fell in the pool unable to continue the race. It was now the battle between the Eagle and Sparrow. You see, in the middle of all the flying, the small Sparrow hide under the feathers of the Eagle and continued flying there. The Eagle couldn't see under his own wings and so thought that he was the only one flying. The finish line was ahead but the Eagle thought that there was no other opponent, turned back and was heading towards the pond. The Sparrow took the chance and started flying towards the finish line. Everyone was cheering for the Sparrow, this caught the attention of the Eagle and he turned back, he saw that Sparrow was almost at the finish line, so Eagle gathered all his energy and flew with speed towards the finish line. Did he make it? He was too late, Sparrow had just crossed the finish line ahead of Eagle by a second, and that was how Eagle lost the race. MORAL: Don't lose sight of the finish line, reach the finish line and pass the finish line. Thanks for watching Please Like! & Subscribe For more Updates and Videos Subscribe Here By Following Link: https://goo.gl/iXjw9i Follow On Our Other Social Sites: Pinterest: https://goo.gl/cMAUaF Mix: https://goo.gl/4WMyFF Twitter: https://goo.gl/Y541v1 Fb: https://goo.gl/bzdMpR Blog: https://goo.gl/bU2qYb