#this is simple I legit wrote it up in like a hour or so

[hcdragonwrites]

Home (a jttw fanfic- @journey-to-the-au )

Inspired by @journey-to-the-au artwork. Here is the art -

This is a POV thats gender neutral and meant to let you slide into the comfort of found family. So. Enjoy!

The sun was just settling down for the night. It cast its scarlet hues across the earth, through the trees and over the sky. It painted in water colors a twilight so full of hues to rival any master artist in the capitals of the Empire left behind so far back.

The road had been long today, the rocky mountains pass full of dust that Ba Longma tossed with his hooves and the rest of the pilgrims stirred. The mountain dust covered you, the sun had baked you, and you felt like a steamed bun. Since joining the little group of travelers you had seen fantastical things: fruit in the shape of babes, demons who could shape change, gods who could cast helpful or harmful hands.

You had been part of schemes, of fights, of plots, and of mediations between the pilgrims. It had been a long several years of hardship and laughter, of sorrow and joys. You had earned your place among the pilgrims. The respect of Tripataka who appreciated having another level head among them. The sibling like rivalry between Bajie and Wukong and their antics of pranks, trickery and teasing. Wujie and you had respect and kindness grown from the shared love of silent peace and tea. He was more of an uncle, this ex general, than anything you had experienced before.

And Ba Longma? The dragon horse may not say much but he loves to take a bit of clothing and chew contentedly on you. He would try and swish flies from your face and, if you came back with a bit of fruit or a sweet, he always had his ears forward and was wickering in excitement. The pilgrims held affection for you. Some as a elder sibling would to a younger, others as a father or grandpa to a relative.

“Let’s rest here for the night.”Tripataka relented and you practically fell onto the nearest rock. Your feet aches your legs cramped, and you felt dusty as if you had been rolled in flour.

You played your part. You set up the bed rolls along with Wujie. You gathered water with Wukong, who would not let you carry a thing- he just wanted to have someone to chatter to about the day. Ba Longma was brushed down and settled with oats and an apple that Wukong had begged off of the last villagers. As Bajie cooked the rice you sat with Tripataka, learning as much as you could of the scriptures he so adored and read over. They were worn with use and love.

Full bellies around a fire as the breeze of spring still ran chill in the air. The fire cast shadows dancing up the little alcove of rock and grasses that made up the clearing of the camp. You stretched and yawned.

First watch was yours this night- and if you didn’t prop yourself up against the rough looking stone and get into the most uncomfortable position, you would fall asleep. Warm food and good camaraderie always were a balm to the soul. It wasn’t this peaceful. Sometimes Wukongs pranks would go to far. Some nights Bajie have into his earthly hungers and wanted to cling to missing meats and the comfort of women. Tripataka may be disquieted on the prospect of the journey or Ba Longma may have taken to irritableness at the length of the day.

You were all people- having come together for one common purpose, from a multitude of backgrounds. It was bound to happen that harsh words were said, tempers flared, and feelings were hurt.

The pilgrims were a family in a sense. The strangest family perhaps, but still a family.

You yawned again, feeling the fires warmth at your back growing distant with each step. You muttered something- something along the lines of tired, of longing for sleep- and you did not realize the mistake.

For Wukong, ever vigilant to all things, had heard your mumbling and had perked. His ears twitched, his tail swayed and his smile became sly.

“Tired you say?” The Sages voice was light and lilting, playful in tones that you knew meant mischief was afoot. You turned to see the monkey come up behind you.

“Wukong…” you half asked, half stated his name. He held his arms open like he was offering a hug.

“Bajie.” The sage asked his brother, who blinked bakc to waking. “Don’t you think our little Sibling deserves some rest ?”

The pig demon looked between you and Wukong and sensed a game was to be played. Sometimes the other disciple was in direct opposition. Other times he was just as wily as the old stone monkey. Tonight it seemed he was of the former.

“I saw our fellow Sibling stumble much on the trail. In fact,” Bajie held up a hand, counting on his fingers, “I saw them stumbled a total of twelve times.”

“Brother Wujie…” Wukong turned his eye on the other disciple. The River demon huffed.

“They should not be the one to take the first watch.” Wujie tapped the side of his teacup, holding it out to blow the steam away. “For there steps today have been weighed down with many a rough and sleepless night.”

“It is settled then—“ Wukong held his arms out, stepping closer. “Come give your Elder a hug.”

You turned to Trip, entreating the monk. Whatever game Wukong was playing, you did not want a part in. You had first watch. It had been decided the day before. It was non negotiable.

Tripataka opened an eye, looking at his disciples and the advancing elder on the youngest of the group. He simply closed his eye.

“I cannot have the younger wearing themselves out.” Was that the faintest hint of a smile ? Wukong stepped closer and you stepped back. You knew the monkey wouldn’t hurt you. But — he was planning something. Ba Longma snorted at your look, flashing his teeth in a horsey grin as if saying I agree !

Of course - even though it was foolish- you turned to run. A playful run because there was no threat of danger- just of capture. Bajie chortled as Wukong leapt. Of course he chased you around the camp. As you played a musical game of keep away the others smiled. You dodged behind the monk, danced a ring around the fire, tired to throw Bajie at the impish monkey.

Wukong was toying with you- enjoying the play. These games reminded him of home- you reminded him of home. The willingness to cause mischief but remain firm when it went too far- the want to tell jokes and tease and taunt along with him- it all reminded him of that beautiful mountain covered in the scents of ripening fruits and soft flowery fields. So of course he played chase, letting you slip and wear yourself out.

Wukong knew how to tend to children of all ages and he saw you as one of his own- one of his own family. He had knowledge of wearing littles out. He was a grandfather after all.

Then one stumble of your legs and he had grown larger then a bear and swooped. Suddenly you were rolled in fur and laughter as the Monkey king caught you up and settled. He held you like a babe, arms crossed over your middle and his eyes sleepily peaking from beneath lids. You pushed to get out, wiggled and wormed for a bit of give. There was none to be had.

Wukong blew air into your hair, tussled you and rolled, setting you and he within the ring of firelight.

“I think our little sibling should go to bed now don’t you brothers ?” An uproarious agreement from all- Even Trip who had been smiling at the antics- was heard. You argued that you were needed to take first watch.

Wujie rose. “I will take it.”

You tried to say you weren’t pulling your weight. To your surprise it was Longma who broke his horse silence with words.

“You pull more weight, carry more burdens, and lighten our days. Rest is what little we can give back for companionship.”

You flustered, faltered, and fell silent. Wukong simply poked your side and elicited more laughter.

“You won’t let me go even if I begged ?” You asked. The great monkey opened one large red eye, the golden iris like the flash of golden rings on a lady’s hand.

“No.” He mumbled then pulled you closer in, curling and blocking the world. The warmth of the fur was welcome- the spring still held winters teeth and tonight they sought to bite and drive frost across the ground. The great orange fur was soft, the heartbeat like the roar of an ocean calling you home. And, though you were grumpy to have your decision taken from you, you soon found that sleep was a greater enemy.

It won in the end, as your hands curled into the fur, pulled into the warm and beating safety that Wukong offered. Nowhere in the world was as peaceful or as full of gentle warmth as here. Among the pilgrims, on this strange and desolate mountaintop, you felt more at home and full of love then in any city, village, or palace you had crossed.

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

7,935 total entries were submitted in 2023!

This includes all entries that were submitted via the Google Form, including late entries (and excluding duplicate entries).

Which brings us to 50,656 total recorded entries since we began this challenge in 2017! 

And, we had 109 volunteer artists in 2023!! Which means that there are 109 prize-winners!

A breakdown of the stats + announcement of the Participation Prize winners are below the cut ~

Want to see all public entries? Here’s a link to the Master Spreadsheet. This omits entries that people requested to keep private between them and I.

There's a lot to be gleaned from the data this year. Firstly, this is the first year where we see a real dip in participation, numbers dropping to the pre-2020 range. There are a couple of probable causes for this dip: this year, I chose, a) not to promote the challenge in any discords, b) not to repost any prompts to twitter, and c) not to post reminders throughout the challenge for folks to submit their links.

I was curious to know how much my own direct participation effects the challenge these days, and the numbers seem to point to "quite a bit!" So, that's good to know.

Secondly, we have finally approached the "data visualization salad" limit in which there are enough data points to confuse the visualization of the data overall, rendering them a little tough to understand at first glance. So, next year will probably see some fine-tuning of the data so that it's easier to digest.

Now, onto the good stuff!

Total Participation Year to Year:

Prompt Participation by Year:

NOTE: The big dips are Make-up / Extra Credit Days. Lots of folks choose to take a break over writing Extra Credit. Legit!

Prompt Breakdown by Week:

Submissions by Day:

NOTE: Day 7 was the day before the 24-hour deadline went into effect. Hence, the big ol’ spike.

Submissions by Platform:

Participation Prize Winners

Winners were selected via a random raffle dice roll made by Moen and span all online writing platforms, including Tumblr, Ao3, Google Docs, and others (like Twitter). This writing challenge is not a contest - no one’s work was being judged for length, skill, etc. The prizes are based on participation only! The more entries that you wrote and submitted within its 24-hour deadline, the higher your chance of winning a prize.

Prizes are a simple black & white portrait of the winner’s character. Most are shoulder up but the artists are free to take liberties if they’d like. Prizes are not commissioned work, so ultimately it’s the artist’s choice for what they’d like to do for the piece. Some artists (not all) accept commissions and might be open to colorizing a prize piece, after it’s been posted, at their normal rates.

Due to recent changes in Discord's username format, this year (and this year only) all winners will be notified by yours truly (MoenMoen) via a friend request and message in Discord. Next year I'll be teaming up with some folks to find a better, more streamlined process for informing and connecting winners with their volunteer artist.

So, keep an eye out for me in your Discord friend requests/inbox over the next week or so (it will take me a minute to get to everyone):

As always, there are a few winners whose artists may need to drop out for personal reasons, and that’s ok! In those cases, the winners will be carried over into 2024′s pool of winners where another artist will pick up their prize and complete it.

Congrats to all 109 winners, and I'll see you in September 2024 when we do it all again!

[sadcatjae]

Whumpee who is actually a conditioned cold-blooded villain and a dangerous obedient weapon, discarded like a broken toy, so they live the rest of their lonesome life in agony and delirium. And Caretaker, who actually wants to survive the encounter with “Whumpee”, but also desperately trying to help and save them 🥺🥺🥺

Ahhh yesyesyesyes so much yes that i actually wrote a thing?????? What the--

Erm and it's awkwardly written and has too much lore but i wrote a thing and I'm very happy that I wrote AT ALL so yay! Thank you for your amazing prompt!! And sorry I didn't respond until now ;u; <;3

Also - I knoooow Kasin is like, caring for someone who literally tried to kill him one second ago, but he's a himbo and a Good Boy (tm) and has no idea if Mercy is legit dying or what sooooooo V_V

-

CW: Mentions of murder/hanging, PTSD/flashbacks, panic attack, dissociation, scarring, mentions of torture, self harm, knife wounds, dehydration.

-

“You picked a helluva time to sign up, mulch,” is the first thing Senior Officer Tophel says when they meet. 

“How do you figure?” Kasin grins, taking the proffered sword and admiring the Blue Guards’ sigil in the glinting silver hilt. 

The older man glances over his new recruit’s perfectly pressed uniform and gives a begrudging nod of approval. “Mercy’s coming to Everlost.”

“Mercy?”

“Ain’t you ever heard of Mercy? The Emperor’s Arbiter and Royal Steward. Apparently he got himself exiled. Though for what, I ain’t privy to. All I know is he’s coming here.” Tophel huffs and shakes his head, fingers twisting the ends of his walrus moustache. “Fact that his head’s not on a pike is no small wonder.”

Kasin twists his mouth to the side as he sheathes his new sword. “What did this Mercy do, to warrant such a gruesome end?”

Tophel sweeps up the loose papers on his desk into a neat pile, his expression one of sheer disdain. “No-one visited by Mercy is left intact. That’s all you have to know. Just keep out of his way and if you can’t - aim to kill, because there won’t be anything left by the time he’s done with you.”

The younger man frowns, uncertain how much one civilian can do against an armed guard. Then again, bluebloods in the Imperial City are known to be well versed in combat, having the best training from a young age. Maybe Kasin should err on the side of caution. Just this once. 

“I assume you’re telling me about this man for a reason,” Kasin says, raising a brow. 

“Looks like we have ourselves a mulch with brains,” Tophel scoffs, sticking his pipe into the corner of his mouth. “It’s what the Captain wants. A simple assignment to watch over our newest resident. No contact, no interference. Just watch. You’ll be on a rotating twelve hour shift with Dazer and you’ll both be assessed for other duties in a month. Any questions, mulch?”

“Why ‘mulch’?” Kasin isn’t stupid, but he asks anyway. Tophel’s greying at his temples. He’s sun weathered and rigid; got a mean, stubborn lock to his jaw. He doesn’t look like he enjoys challenging the status quo - so it’s probably best if Kasin plays his part.

“It’s what you’re gonna be by summer’s end. If you don’t like it, then prove me wrong. Anything else?”

“Am I to disguise myself while on assignment?”

Tophel smiles around his pipe, but it’s more like a leer. “No. Captain wants you in full uniform and full view at all times.”

-

Mercy’s place of residence could only be described as a hovel. It’s a shack on the edge of the forest, with swathes of spoiled land on either side. The nearest neighbour is the Sudbury Farm to the east and the dumping grounds to the west. The trees here grow black and twisted. By all rights, they shouldn’t be growing at all - but the roots have stubbornly taken hold of the arid land and the branches contort upwards, greedily drinking in every drop of rain and glimmer of sun to feed their wasted bodies.

The biggest and ugliest of these trees grows in front of Mercy’s shack, not thirty feet away. This is where Kasin stations himself, standing in his sky blue uniform, just under the gnarled black branches. He stands out in this desolate landscape, like a vibrant drop of paint on a blank white canvas. The restless movement in the dust-caked windows attests to his bold presence. 

Mercy is nervous. Aware. He peeks out the window every few minutes, but never lingers long enough for Kasin to get a proper look. 

Mercy is just a flitting shadow. No more than a ghost. 

It’s like this for three days. From morning to dusk, Kasin stands under that black tree, dutifully watching those grimy windows. Nervous shadows and obscured motions greet him like clockwork. And then Dazer, the other new recruit, shambles up (long past dusk) to take his shift. 

On the fourth day, he arrives to an angry crowd of civilians swarming Dazer with a variety of makeshift weapons in hand. 

“We want him gone, Dazer!” One of them shakes his pitchfork at the hassled guard. “I know in my gut that he’s the one stealing my chickens and cured meats!”

Dazer laughs nervously and pats the air. “Now, now, Mister Sudbury. I don’t have any say in his stayin’ or leavin’–”

“I caught him going through my trash!” another shrills, red-faced like her equally enraged comrades. “I don’t care if he’s a toff from the Imperial City, I want him out of my town!”

“Miss Daisy, going through trash isn’t technically against the law–”

“Oh, Jim's told me all about that ghastly beast you're defending. He's killed hundreds of innocent people to sate his perverse cravings, and hides behind His Majesty's goodwill."

Another voice shrieks, "He’s a demon that wears the skin of man!”

The crowd surges in volume and fury, inundating poor Dazer until Kasin finally reaches his side. The townsfolk pause for a moment, recognising this young man who has, in his twenty-five years, garnered a strong reputation in Everlost as a reliable, kind, and moral character.

“If anyone has grievances to be heard, please send a missive to Captain Locke,” Kasin announces over the discontented grumble. “Dazer and I have been ordered to keep watch of the situation. You can be rest assured that nothing will elude our attention - so please. Return to your fields and businesses and homes. Should there be any cause for concern, you will be informed.”

For a moment, Kasin’s reassurances seem to have worked. The townsfolk relax, their makeshift weapons drop to their sides, and they consider his words. But then Sudbury, always the inciter, raises his pitchfork and bullrushes the shack, hollering, “DEATH TO THE DEMON OF MIDOTHAL!”

Two other burly men split off from the re-ignited crowd, following Sudbury to the front door. Before Kasin can even react, they’ve kicked down the flimsy wood and dragged out a hooded figure from the gloomy interior. 

One word comes to Kasin’s mind when he lays eyes upon the fearsome Mercy for the very first time. 

Fragile. 

The figure enshrouded by a tattered grey cloak isn’t by any means frail. In fact, they are imposingly tall and there is evidence of a wiry, athletic figure. However, Mercy stands stooped over like his crooked black trees, hooded head cast down, and his limbs shaking as though it were mid-winter instead of summer. 

His bare feet, filthy and as grey as his cloak, stumble every second step. Kasin suspects that if he weren’t being dragged by Sudbury’s men, he would have collapsed not one foot out the door. 

Kasin yanks his sheathed sword free from his belt and rushes to Mercy’s side. The latter’s thrown to the dirt, crumpled and silent. 

“Stand down Powle, Richard, Bolt.” The young guard points his sheathed sword at the three men in turn. His oaken stare, intense and penetrating. Something in his eyes has them hesitating, their righteous anger withering to dust. “While we may know each other as well as family, I will not hesitate to arrest you should you enact your own justice. This is a land of law. Which means we abide by the law and entrust the administration of justice by the court of law. As a citizen of Everlost, this is the contract you have agreed to.” Kasin pauses, gaze sharpening. “Do you agree?”

The three men exchange wary glances and begrudgingly respond.

“Aye.”

“Yes.”

“I s’pose it is.”

“Very well,” Kasin says, his stern expression relaxing. Though he does smile, his gaze remain severe. “It is not our place to question His Majesty’s decision to exile this man to our humble town. Nor is it our place to judge this man. Return to your lives and invest your concerns in your own matters. In this drought, there will be many, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t lower his sword until the last fires of outrage are doused. Only reluctant acquiescence remains, and eventually, the crowd disperses in terse clumps. Sudbury and his men are the last to leave, and they don’t do so without parting words. Words that promise later retribution. 

“I better report this to Tophel,” Dazer sighs, wiping sweat from his brow. “Thanks for saving my ass, Kasin. I really thought I’d have run old Daisy through for a moment there.”

Kasin sends him a wry smile. “I think she would have run you through first.”

“Eh. You’re probably right.”

Kasin watches Dazer set off in a trot up the dirt road before turning his attention to Mercy. 

The hooded figure picks himself up unsteadily, legs quaking from the effort. Now that they are alone, Mercy finally raises his head. There’s a glimmer of pale skin and well defined features - a sharp jawline sweeping into the shadow of the hood, and a pair of cracked, bloodless lips pressed into a tight grimace. Odd marks mar the pallid skin, but it’s difficult to tell from this distance.

Kasin, who had always considered himself to be quite tall, feels a little intimidated by the other’s imposing height. Mercy must stand at least a foot above, and the young guard has to angle his head back a tad to address him. 

“Mister Mercy, I presume?” Kasin says, politely. “I must apologise. They aren’t normally this…angry. They are all good people, truly. I promise you this was an anomalous event that will never happen again. You are safe here. I will ensure it.”

Mercy’s lips twitch into a faint sneer. “How.” His voice is hoarse, grating, as though unused for many months. 

The guard blinks. “I am an officer of the Blue Guards. It is my duty to ensure your safety as a resident of Everlost. And - as you are well aware by now - I have been ordered to keep watch over you. Along with Officer Dazer. Between the two of us, we will prevent any future aggressions.”

Mercy is silent for a time. Kasin has the distinct feeling that he’s being stared at. So he stares into the shade of the hood, directly where he assumes the other’s eyes are. 

Eventually, Mercy turns his head to the side. “You are not watching me for my safety,” he says, impassively.

“I don’t know my Captain’s intent,” Kasin says, evenly. “But I can tell you that I care for the wellbeing of all townsfolk. Exiled or not.” There’s a teasing lilt to the last three words which seems to agitate the other man. 

Without another word, Mercy unsteadily returns to his shack. Kasin slips his sheathed sword back into his belt, uncertain whether to follow him or not. His decision is made for him when Mercy trips over the broken pieces of his door and staggers into something with a tremendous crash. 

-

Mercy seethes and kicks the broken cot into the wall. And just like that, he’s lost his bed. His cot was the only comfort he’d bought for himself with the little coin he’d had left. And now it’s gone. 

Just like everything else.

‘Exile’ means being exiled in all sense of the word. Meaning, he was exiled not only from his home, his work, his title, but also his land and wealth. Whatever coin he’d had on his person when he was informed of his new status, is all he was allowed to carry into his next life. 

The ex-Arbiter clutches his throbbing leg, allowing himself a moment of weakness, before Kasin appears in his doorway like an irritating gnat. He straightens up, every muscle tensing as his abode is so rudely trespassed. 

“Ah…your door…” The guard crouches down and picks up a large piece of broken wood. He gives Mercy a guileless smile. “Sorry about that. I’m a pretty good carpenter if you’d like me to fix it up for you.”

“Leave,” is all Mercy can spit out. His heart’s pounding near out of his chest and his hands are shaking, shaking, because this creature is in his house. He’s touching his things. He’s talking to him. He’s smiling, smiling like Mercy’s just another person, just another townsfolk who has a face and a future.

But Kasin isn’t listening. He’s walking further into his house, looking at his meagre possessions, casually commenting on the state of his broken furniture. “I can fix this too - no problem. But is this cot big enough for you? With your height, I’d imagine it’s quite a squeeze every night. Maybe I could extend the end a bit, so that you can stretch out? I have a lot wood back home that’s going to waste. And there’ll be no charge - consider it compensation for today–”

Mercy feels it. The Hollow. It slithers in like a snake, starving for prey, and sending venom straight into his veins. It unfurls, uncoils, until he’s no longer in possession of himself. There’s only the Hollow that knows only consumption. He loses himself to blissful domination and there’s its voice, its cloying voice, which commands him to do what he does best. 

-

The broken halves of the cot drop to his feet in a clatter. Kasin freezes. Hands gone numb. His eyes staring blindly at the swollen, mouldy wall in front of him. 

The sharp prick in his back is unmistakable.

“What are you doing, Mister Mercy?” He keeps his tone calm, friendly even, but his insides tumble about like loose rocks. 

The prick turns to real pain. He feels his skin snap and flesh give. Blood wells. It’s only an inch, but it’s enough to make Mercy’s intent clear. 

“Mister Mercy? Did I say something wrong?”

“Yes.” 

Kasin feels a chill run down his spine. That voice is void of emotion. Near inhuman. Is this man really a killer? 

“Ah. I apologise. I tend to speak without thinking. It’s a terrible habit, really. Can’t seem to shake it. Look, I'll apologise properly, but you'll need to lower your weapon. Can you do that for me, Mister Mercy?”

“No.”

Kasin’s heart sinks. He pulls in a shallow breath. Tries again. “I understand. You wish to protect yourself, but you must know that I mean you no harm–”

There’s a steely grip on his shoulder which tightens and jerks him around. It plants a blow on his chest, sending him staggering back into the wall. The cot cracks and splinters further under his clumsy feet. 

A dagger of beautiful yet simplistic design, pokes a new shallow hole in his stomach. He winces but maintains his smile. Even when he finally lays eyes on Mercy’s face. 

The hood must have fallen away at some point, for the mien before him is exposed to his scrutiny. Mercy’s features are sharp and handsome - his eyes shaped like petals, delicate and soft, if not for the flint-like coldness they hold. Not a flicker of recognisable emotion or thought can be seen in these callous eyes, and unlike his name, they speak of no mercy. 

Black, greasy hair, matted with dirt and perhaps dried blood, gathers upon his shoulders, overgrown and impossibly tangled. But the most striking feature of Mercy’s visage are the heavy scores etched deep into his flesh. 

At first, they appear to be freshly scarred wounds from random slashes of a knife. Reminisce of a clawed attack from a bear. But then, as eyes adjust, one can see a single word taking shape - carved into the entirety of Mercy’s face, from forehead to jaw, in big vicious letters: AMOS. 

Amos. As in, Crown Prince Amos, the Emperor’s eldest son. 

Bile surges up Kasin’s gullet which he swallows with difficulty. As frightened he is of the knife sticking into his gut, he’s also greatly pained by the man’s scars. What kind of torture had Mercy been subjected to? Kasin suspects that there’s more to see beyond those cruel letters. 

A part of him is in disbelief. The Crown Prince is known for his heroic and generous deeds. Many espouse his virtues and compare him to his father, Emperor Midothal who ends wars without ever raising his sword. After all, isn’t Mercy’s exile proof of his forgiving nature? If Mercy is truly a deviant, indulging in his wicked appetite behind the docile mask of Midothal’s loyal Arbiter and Steward, then he by all rights should be sentenced to death. However, His Majesty had instead chosen to spare Mercy’s life and exile him instead. Why would he do such a thing, if he was the type of man to allow this torture?

Kasin licks his dry lips, nervously. Never mind all that, he thinks. There’s a knife pointed at his stomach - that should take first priority. “Mister Mercy,” he begins, slowly, amicably. “I can see that you are not quite yourself. Perhaps a conversation between friends could ease your burdens? How about a shared meal? There's a tavern close by that does a wonderful meat pie. Come, friend. There need be no bloodshed today.”

The taller man simply stares at him, hollow eyed, detached. His shaking has dissipated entirely. And his stance is lean and centered. Kasin knows that whoever this is, it’s not the same man from moments ago. 

There’s no getting out of this. Not with words alone. 

Kasin lets his training kick in. In one fast motion, he simultaneously grabs the blade and Mercy’s wrist, and twists the latter to a painful degree. The knife, he wrenches free and tosses to the side. 

There’s no reaction to the sprained wrist. Mercy whips into action, attacking the guard with a flurry of perfectly executed blows. Kasin meets them with his own, and they fight like this for many minutes, neither tiring or relenting to the other. Not once does Kasin pull his sword. It’s not his intention to kill this man after all - despite Tophel’s warning.

Finally, Mercy sweeps Kasin’s legs from under him and pins him to the ground with his foot, pushing his weight into that single crushing point. His other foot pins down the guard’s right hand, preventing him from going for his sword.

Kasin groans and chokes, agony spreading through his upper trunk like spilled lava. “Mer…cy…!” He’s not sure if he’s asking for mercy or calling his name, but it’s fruitless either way. 

The man simply isn’t here. 

Kasin flails. He strikes. He yanks and pulls and kicks. But Mercy’s like a steel column, unyielding, unmoving. 

With every compounding inch of pressure upon Kasin’s chest, the less air he’s able to suck in. His vision begins to darken around the edges. His ribs are on the verge of snapping. He knows he has only a few precious seconds of consciousness left. If he doesn’t do anything - he will die. 

So as he squints up at the stony, impassive face looming overhead - he takes one final shot in the dark. “A…mos..!”

The pressure stops. A sliver of air seeps through. 

He squeezes the word out again. “Amos–!”

Suddenly, as though struck by a powerful force, Mercy violently recoils. His body crashes into the wall, causing the entire structure to judder. Clawed hands desperately scrabble at his hood, attempting to cover his head - or rather, his face. 

Kasin raises himself upright, clutching his aching chest and gasping for air. He feels the creeping fingers of regret upon seeing Mercy’s powerful reaction, but for now, he’s alive - and regret momentarily takes a backseat. 

-

Amos.

Mercy clutches the side of his head, dragging the hood further down. Darkness sweeps him up into its comforting embrace - but he’s yet to feel at all assured. 

Pants seep through clenched teeth as he slams his head into the wall, trying to knock the scattered fragments of his mind back into place. The swirling, discordant noise knocks him askew. He’s both here and there and nowhere at all, and it takes every shred of his cognisance to keep from falling apart. 

Amos burns. 

It burns like he’s sinking into him again. Like he’s back in that place, that dark and enduring place, and he bites down on his hand to keep from crying out. This pain is real. Grounding. But the burn is soul-deep. Impossible to ignore. 

“Mister Mercy?”

A voice. Firm. Concerned. It reminds him of the dusk. 

“Leave.” He’s enough mind to utter a single word. Not a demand. Not a suggestion. A plea. 

Please. Please leave. Leave so I can stop fighting. Leave so I can rest.

“Please.” Another plea. Not his own. “Please, Mister Mercy. Tell me what ails you. Is there anything I can do? Are you in pain?”

“Leave–!” The word cracks midway. Wavers. Mercy claws at the wall, smashes himself into it like he can phase right through. He’s shaking now, and chilled right to the bone despite the summer heat. He can smell metal. Copper. His face burns. 

Amos burns. 

“Mercy. Tell me what’s wrong.” There’s a hand now, touching his face. Gentle fingers pushing his matted hair to the side. Sunlight sneaks in as his hood’s nudged back. He panics. 

He’s touching him. He’s pulling off his hood. He’s here, he’s here, he’s here–

Mercy scrambles to his feet, holding onto the wall for support. He holds out a trembling hand, ready to shove Kasin away should he venture too close. But the guard keeps his distance. 

Mercy pants through his panic, his eyes wild and face a shock-white. The world spins, lurches, and his legs buckle and bow. The noise reaches an agonising crescendo, drowning out every scattered thought in his brain.

Kasin steps forward, reaching out, alarmed. This time, Mercy relinquishes. He accepts. He exchanges the wall for the guard and collapses into his sturdy arms. All sense of self-preservation dissipates. He’s purely in survival mode. There’s desperation for an end to this suffering, this chaos, like a primal keen. 

Amos burns.

Kasin lowers him to the ground and kneels beside him, keeping a firm grasp of his upper arms. “Keep still. Don’t try to move. Here, have some water.”

A flask’s brought to his lips, but he can’t do more than wet his cracked lips. He’s breathing too hard, too fast, rocking in the guard’s arms like he’s trying to escape his own skin - but he can’t, he’s trapped, so he just rocks. 

And all the while, his face burns. 

Kasin presses his palm against Mercy’s forehead. It’s a light touch but the latter flinches like he’s been scorched. 

“Sorry, sorry–” the guard hastily apologises. “But you’re hot, like you’ve a fever, and you're not sweating. When’s the last time you drank water?”

“Burns…” Mercy rasps, on the edge of delirium. 

“What does?”

“Amos…Amos burns…” 

Somewhere far away, or maybe not far at all, Mercy hears the trickle of water. Murmured words, not quite for his ears. And then a cool, damp cloth pressed gently upon his forehead. The burn lulls. Subsides. The damp cloth dabs across his brow, to his left temple, down his cheek. In the wake of Kasin’s ministrative touch, Mercy - impossibly - finds relief. 

His panicked breath slows, lightens. The noise quietens in his head. Mercy sits there, eyes closed, swaying and trembling, as the young guard, this stranger, dabs his burning wounds. These ugly, jagged scars that laid waste to his flesh. Like a soothing rain dousing the blazing, destructive wildfire, Mercy finds a kind of peace in that touch. 

Another’s touch is never good. But this touch…this touch is good. 

An anomalous event that will never happen again. 

When Mercy finally comes to, Kasin has once more doused the cloth - his handkerchief - with water from his flask. The guard’s propped Mercy against the wall to free his hands, and he’s crouched before him, brows furrowed deeply in concern. 

Kasin raises the handkerchief to Mercy’s temple, and stills. Oaken eyes, swirling with deep, unfathomable emotion, lock onto a hazy coal-black stare. 

“Mercy? Have you returned to your senses?”

Mercy feels drained. Hollowed out like a gutted animal carcass. He wants nothing more than to curl up on his - broken - cot and sleep the day out of existence. 

He grabs Kasin’s wrist and yanks it from his face. The guard loses his balance and falls onto his rear. 

“Don’t touch me,” Mercy croaks. Should this guard return with a platoon to have him hanged, then so be it. He’s tired of fighting. “I need…” Mercy pauses. Shivers. He feels raw. Weak. And in truth, he is. It only took a single touch to draw out the Hollow. And a single word to break him. “I need you to leave.”

For once, the young guard doesn’t protest. He simply nods, climbs to his feet, and brushes himself off. He leaves his flask and handkerchief on the only standing piece of furniture in the shack - a rickety table salvaged from the dumping ground. 

“Try to drink some water,” Kasin says, quietly. “I’ll be outside, keeping watch, so call out if you need anything. I'll...keep your dagger safe. For the moment. A fair exchange, I think, for almost taking my life.” He turns to leave. A pause in the doorway.  “I am sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have...I didn't realise you would--" He bites his tongue. Smiles tightly. "I’ll fix you a new door and bring it by tomorrow.” And then he’s gone, off to take up his usual post under the gnarled black tree, with the dagger tucked securely in his belt. 

Mercy doesn’t move. He just stares at the naked doorway, lost in the memory of another doorless cell, and the utter incomprehension of simply leaving.

.

Part 2

[update-blog-bp9]

How would this sound to you ? (ONE DAY GUYS ! YOU DECIDE !!)

I was sitting here and thinking...I never did a 1k Follower special, I just never had the time for it and now I am almost to 1k and 150 Followers. Only 20 missing at this point and I never even thought I would get this many.

What if I remedy that whole 1k special, i missed to make ?

Now WHAT would that include ? MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FROM HERE !!!

Easy...

I will open requests and you can request what you want. Smut chapters will take me legit forever, but I am not going to say that I won't do any. Just...go easy on me. I am mentally not all that great to do the whole brutal, very perverted stuff at the moment.

I gladly do BDSM, Roleplay kinda smut chapters, some kinky stuff and soft smut though !

You can ask for (Fandoms):

MARVEL HAZBIN HOTEL (I mostly do Alastor there, but you can also request other Characters there !) FNAF (Game and Movie Universe) SCREAM (I only watched 1, 5 and 6, so please have mercy on me) SP AND DR is also allowed.

And anything else that I ever wrote about, all masterlists are on the main one and it is pinned at the top of my blog and linked in my BIO, so take your pick ! You can also ask if I know any other Fandom and if yes, if I could write for them. I don't bite.

What I will write:

ANGST FLUFF WHOLESOMENESS SMUT HURT/COMFORT

What I allow to write as Relationship stuff:

PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS (Friends, friends turning to Family, like Siblings and stuff...Surrogate Brother/Sister if I am not mistaken we call such, tight ?) ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS (Nothing perverted ! Just you know Father - Son ralationship, Brother x Brother Relationship and all that stuff, Family relationships are NOT allowed to be SMUT !!!)

What I will NOT write:

INCEST STEPCEST PEDOPHILIA EXTREME, DARK SMUT (Light dark is okay, but not extreme. I'm just not ready to step back into it yet.)

What I MIGHT not write:

There are some kinks that I am not familiar or comfortable with, but I will let you know when I have a problem with them. I just know that I won't write a feet fetish as an example. I don't feel comfortable to write that.

What you CAN request (Gender like):

HETERO (Man x Woman) GAY (Man x Man) OR (Woman x Woman) INTERSEXUAL (People with BOTH genders) GENDERFLUID (Might be horribly explained, I ain't Genderfluid, but practically that is when you feel like a man one day and in five weeks you feel like a woman and dress and behave as such how you feel) TRANSGENDER (Man in a Woman's body or the other way around, Don't hate me I try to keep this short and simple here !!) ASEXUAL (Repulsed by the bare mention of the S word OR isn't repulsed by it, but isn't really intesrested in it (I think it is called Gray Ace...?) GENDERNEUTRAL (Which mostly means no Gender so They/Them I CAN'T USE THAT IN SMUT THOUGH IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME A SEX ON THE BODY !!! So tell me which they have !)

Character ships I will write for:

Any Character x Reader (Name a Gender though !) Also write Character x Character ( Like...Alastor x Rosie where they just gossip or Charlie and Vaggie with romance or smut)

(I also don't mind to Genderswap. So instead of Charlie being a Female, she is a Male or a different gender. You give me your thoughts and I will try to turn it into a Oneshot !)

Characters I will NOT write for:

The Vees (Hazbin Hotel) Adam (Hazbin Hotel) Lute (Hazbin Hotel) Sera (Hazbin Hotel) They can be mentioned or play a role but I don't do ANY ships with them and the Reader. They can be shipped with each other though, I suppose. And Vox can be friends with Reader, but no romantic shtick.

I am not up to date with Marvel, so I might have to reject some requests, if I get a Character I don't know, so please forgive me, but doing hours of research on any Character just to get a bare grasp on them, could take forever. TvT

The whole Request thing would be OPEN for TWO WEEKS !!! You can ask as ANON too then.

PLEASE GUYS !: Don't just send me smut, because I allowed it. I also wanna see some fluff and other requests. I will let ya'll know how many I would get from each category too, so you can be prepared.

With all of that out of the way....

Be honest with this, because I will only offer it ONCE. ....At least until I have like...2k Followers or something, so...Be bloody honest guys.

(I might repost this list and make it a seperate thing, so innocent eyes can ask for innocent stuff and look everything up, while the dirty dogs *Jokes* get the dirty rules page.)

I'm rambling again !! AAAAGGGHHH !!! Sorry !!!

@innerpiratefun @gayhopefullove @natashaxmarvelmen @buffymore @lovefanfiction01

I thought you might wanna know this and spread the word. ^^

[barclaysangel]

Bath Time (a BarclayPierce oneshot)

What happens when canon scares me so badly to my very core?

I write something fluffy and happy to ignore what the fuck canon is doing.

I absolutely wrote this for @streets-in-paradise because we were both stressing ourselves and making our stomachs sick because of what could happen to Andy in canon. This is how I decided to cope, by writing my very first BarclayPierce oneshot!

This is just a simple and cute little oneshot of Andy and Nica in a bathtub. That’s basically it. Also hints of Final Family and headcanons I came up with with @series-thoughts that are now being used in a oneshot (and Nica has her limbs because I fucking said so, I’d rather die than ever write about the amputation). There’s also a tiny bit of suggestiveness but what can y’all expect, they’re taking a bath together, but there’s just a warning for y’all.

I really hope you guys like this, I still don’t feel super secure about my Andy and Nica writing skills and this is the first time I’ve ever written BarclayPierce, so be gentle on me please! Also, I legit wrote this within 8 hours. It’s a rushed 1.1K word oneshot. But please let me know what you think of this, positive comments fuel my motivation and makes me really happy!

Thank you, enjoy :)

They were both warm for a couple reasons. 

The water was still quite hot, not enough to burn their skin but just enough to make them feel content. 

And their bodies pressed against one another helped radiate warmth between the both of them. 

Nica’s back was pressed firmly against Andy’s bare chest, his arms in a strong yet gentle grasp around her waist. They were finally alone in the cabin for the first time in ages and decided to indulge in some personal time in the bathtub, bubbles covering parts of their bodies and a hint of lavender permeating the air. 

Andy’s eyes never once left Nice, admiring how calm she looked against him. The back of her head rested against his shoulder, fingers trailing over the scars on one of his arms, so soft and light underneath the water. Occasionally, Nica’s blue eyes would close slowly and then open, feeling so peaceful that she was just managing to stay awake in the bathtub. Her curls were damp too, from when they first got in and gently poured water over both of their heads. 

Overall, she looked like a gorgeous sea nymph. 

“This is nice…” Andy mumbled after a long moment of silence, his voice slightly muffled since he said it with his lips to the side of Nica’s head, having just pressed a kiss there. 

“Mhm…” Nica hummed under her breath, tilting her head back so she could look at Andy, “we should do this more often.” 

“I’d love to, if the little shits ever leave the house every now and then.” 

One of Nica’s hands went up and lightly smacked the opposite side of his chest, making him yelp quietly. 

“Don’t be mean!” 

“I meant it affectionately!” Andy chuckled into her ear before another kiss met her temple. 

Nica giggled, knowing that this was true and resumed stroking his arm. “Well, I do agree with you. They don’t let us have an ounce of privacy as it is.” 

“We could always just ship them off to their Aunt Kyle.” He suggested, now absentmindedly tracing random shapes on the sides of Nica’s stomach with the tips of his fingers. 

“If you keep doing that, Kyle’s gonna demand to be paid.”

“That is a literal price I’m willing to make.” Nica giggled again and Andy reveled in the beautiful sound. 

Truly, her laughter was like music to his ears. 

“I love the kids, I really do,” he started, “but fuck, sometimes I could use some quiet and a little time between you and I without Junior shrieking like a banshee in disgust.” 

“He’d be so pissed if we did that to him and Lexy whenever they so much as hold hands.” Nica threw back while rolling her eyes. 

Andy hummed in agreement. “Maybe we should do that, just so he could get a taste of his own medicine.” 

“Tempting, but no. Junior will see it as a personal challenge and get worse.” 

He sighed dramatically before yielding. “Fine. Only because I don’t have the mental strength to battle him on something as stupid as PDA.” 

Nica gave him a mocking pout. “Oh, you poor thing, you sound exhausted.” 

Andy pouted back at her. “Don’t give me that, baby love…” 

She immediately began blushing and then turned her head away from him to try and hide in Andy’s shoulder. “That’s not fair…” 

It absolutely wasn’t, he knew how flustered Nica gets whenever he used that nickname on her. 

It was fucking precious, especially knowing how much she loved it. 

Andy chuckled, smirking as he managed to pull her even closer and plant a kiss on the scar on her forehead. “C’mon, let me see that beautiful face of yours.” 

Nica turned her head after a few more seconds, still pouting at him. “Stop smirking, you jerk.” 

“Sorry, baby love, I have no control over my smirking, you know this.” Andy said in a matter of fact tone, casually shrugging. 

She narrowed her eyes just slightly before wrapping both of her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself higher up to him. This action caused the water to move lower and in a moment of weakness, Andy’s eyes wandered down to her chest that had only a few bubbles still lingering on her bare flesh. 

“My eyes are up here, my darling.” Nica told him and he quickly brought his eyes back up. 

“I was looking at your eyes,” Andy tried to claim, blushing both from getting caught and the nickname, “I was. I was looking at those lovely ocean blue eyes…” 

She obviously didn’t believe him, judging by the eyebrow that was raised, before she smirked as well and leaned in to kiss him. 

He would never get over the feeling of her lips on his. No matter what, it always felt like the first time, an electrifying feeling that made him feel like his heart was stopping and then restarting. It was like a drug that Andy just couldn’t get enough of. 

If this would be how he died, from Nica’s kiss, then it would be a noble death. 

Andy pulled her closer to his body, chest to chest, as he kissed her back. His arms were still around her, his hands now on her lower back before resting his forehead against hers to catch some air. “I love you.” 

Nica smiled, her fingers tracing both of his cheeks and his beard before quickly placing a small kiss on his hips. “I love you too, Andy.” 

Shit, I’ll never get used to hearing that. He thought to himself, his heart pounding so fast that he wondered if she could feel it against her own from how close she was to him. 

Now Nica rested against him, squishing her cheek against his chest this time as Andy’s arms remained firmly around her body. He trailed one hand up and down her back in soothing motions, listening to her breathing. “You’re going to fall asleep here, aren’t you, baby love?”

“No ‘m not,” she denied but her eyes were already closed, “just don’t want to move yet. I’m comfortable here, my darling.” 

His heart raced again and he chuckled lightly, knowing that she indeed was going to fall asleep or at least stay until the water was cold. Then she would burrow further into Andy, desperately wanting more warmth, just like she would do when they were in bed. 

And just like always, he’ll be there to provide her all the body heat he could muster. 

He’d set himself on fire if Nica asked him to, just to keep her warm. 

But for now, Andy will stay in the bathtub, humming under his breath while keeping an eye on the woman he loved and hope they could have more bath time together soon.

[superbcloudbagelbandit-blog]

You’re too Kind | Sam and Colby Drabble

A/N: This is legit a blurb I wrote in one sitting while listening to this specific song on repeat. Brainrot go brr

The rain glistened off the concrete through the glare of streetlights. I could feel the chill around me, yet I couldn’t feel it at all. I felt detached from myself with the anguish coursing through my body. I watched the puddle beneath my feet ripple and dance with the onslaught of fresh raindrops.

How the hell did I end up here? Sulking in my own misery and melancholy outside in the rain? I would laugh at myself if the hole in my heart wasn’t weighing me down.

I had given myself to this woman, laid my heart out on the line and trusted her with everything. And yet, here we are. I stand outside the rundown apartment that I used to call mine, carrying the small amount of clothing I could gather in my teary eyed frenzy.

She couldn’t even look me in the eyes as she whispered how she’d fallen out of love with me.

I should have seen it coming from a while back: the loving glances were few and far between and I wasn’t giving what she wanted. Clearly I was the problem.

No. This isn’t my fault. She should have just told me she was falling out of love before I had to catch her fucking her co-worker in our bed. The rain patters on as I take out my phone and overwhelm my ears with the sounds of music. I get to have my cheesy movie moment without any judgment from the person reading this, I’m ailing.

I drag my feet, trudging along the sidewalk as thunder rolls overhead. How fitting. What the fuck is wrong with me? I knew this was coming, and yet it hurts all the same. Regrets burrowing a hole in my chest as memories flash across my mind.

I had to have been wallowing for hours before even noticing how soaked I had become. Frosted breath escaping my lips into the atmosphere. I could barely bring myself to care until I had bumped into another figure.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s alright,” the figure replied. Their voice muffled by the music in my earbuds.

I thought that would be the end of it; a simple interaction due to my own clumsiness, but I was wrong

“Jesus you must be freezing! How long have you been out here? Where’s your umbrella?” The barrage of questions seemed to never stop from this person.

“Didn’t bring one. Don’t know how long.”

“Why? What could have-”

“Cheated on,” I interrupted, the pang in my heart only worsening with reality setting in. I no longer have the love of my life. The only woman who broke through the apathy I had towards the world. I could feel the cynical nature returning home to my mind as my thoughts continued to run a mile a minute.

“Oh god…Here, I have a spare sweater in my bag, you should find somewhere to stay and warm up before you get sick,” This person is persistent.

I found myself wanting to scoff and roll my eyes; yet a tiny voice reasoned that this stranger had done nothing to hurt me yet, why not trust them? I was hesitant. Trust is what got me into this situation in the first place: Cold, alone, and probably looking like a drowned sewer rat.

“I don’t need a sweater, I’ll be fine.”

“Please, I insist,” refusing to give up.

They hold out their hand and I finally look up to meet their eyes…well I try to. It’s a little hard in the dark night and the streetlight only helps to cast harsh shadows along the contours of their face. In their hand lies a thick knitted sweater.

“It might fit a little awkward, I made it myself so the measurements are off”

I take the sweater and feel the tiniest of smiles break the clouds that hang above my head. Not literally though because it’s still raining. Who did this person think they are? Being kind to a stranger and offering a sweater to keep them warm? How does one have such empathy towards everyone? I paused, staring into the slightly frayed yarn.

“How can I return this to you?” I asked.

“You don’t need to, think of it as a gift from one ailing man to another”

“Thanks…”

“I’m Sam,” the stranger mentions, a soft smile gracing his features.

“Colby,” was all I managed to get out before he started walking again.

“See ya around Colby,” Sam calls with a soft expression before turning and continuing his way.

Looking back down at the sweater I see that he left a small umbrella with me as well. Maybe there are good people still in the world. Or maybe this guy is an idiot to trust people so easily. But I can’t help the warmth I started to feel in my heart. I thought I had found the meaning of kindness when I was with her. I guess I was wrong.

Kindness was found in soft smiles and handmade sweaters.

[tordenvejr]

What do you do to start your day/ put yourself in an okay/ good mood for the day ahead? Do you plan things, or do you just allow them to come natural without over-thinking legit everything like I do? I have to get high just to leave my bedroom, let alone going out in the world around others. How do you deal with difficult feelings, and thoughts? I journal, but that isn't helping as much as it used to anymore lately. I'm trying to find a hobby, but things are so much money. Anyway, I hope that the day ahead sees you well; and you take care. Gosh, I just love yah to pieces; you're so kind.

i have recently made this compilation of things that really uplift and support who i am, and even if it's simple i'm not always able to check off everything - right now it's 4 of the points i do consistently, but i'd like to work myself up to a place where i do all - because all of it is vital to who i am. here's the list:

•  dream journal, write down elements of my dreams for better understanding of the subconscious themes i'm being asked to work on

•  gratitude log, helps me be in a state of looking for things to enjoy and appreciate and value, and just makes everything more light 

•  qi gong, doubles as meditative for me, it's one of the most significant segments of my day at this time, it really helps me be present and feel in tune with my body

•  read, i try to limit the time i use for healing books and value fiction for my spirit, it relaxes me

•  music, and dance ideally, helps me be more expressive, feel more aligned and authentic

•  walk, i try to walk at least 15 min every day, it helps calm my body and nature is a huge healer for me, and the little squirrels and dogs and babies i see always help me connect to my heart

•  create, creativity is closely intertwined with truly being myself for me, so any day i sit down and paint for a few hours with music is sure to make my day amazing

•  meditate or nap, this one i've been checking off as long as i do qi gong, but half an hour or more to just have a break with asmr or a meditation to drift off to wakes me up feeling whole and happy and loose

•  affirmations, listening to the affirmations i wrote and recorded for myself to nourish the thoughts that are supportive and empowering 

i find that these activities help me for difficult feelings, and i feel that expressing, verbally, what i'm feeling helps me see the remedy for them. i ask a hug when i need it, i care for myself, go easy on myself if i need, if i catch it early i do eft, sometimes if it's all feeling disastrous, i'm fortunate to have an agreement with a therapist i studied with that we offer each other free therapy, so i usually email her and ask if we can meet

i have a million hobbies i want to start too, but not the means to make it a priority right now so being open to help from others (i recently got an easel and paint from someone who didn't want it anymore) and pursuing interests in whatever way i can now, even if for some interests that's just being curious where i want to go and explore them when i can make it a priority 

thank you so much! you seem so wonderful, a great day to you too (-:

[acharlescoleman]

I’m still bad at introducing myself. I’m like 98% certain a person who I’m literally a Patreon person of was in my row a couple seats from me and I wasn’t sure what to say so I didn’t say hi lol. Like I knew I could have said that but it felt like a tongue tied thing to say and I don’t have a booming voice but I feel like I still could’ve said hello. I don’t know her, don’t know her but idk why I didn’t just say hello, are you yada yada I’m yada yada, nice to meet you. In theory that’s so simple. Like hours later. Urgh.

Also the guy in the seat in front of me was like 5’5” or 5’7” and I still had a hard time seeing the stage in clear view whenever he stood up. In my defense, he also had a tendency to raise his arms to take his pictures, dare I say photographs at the Ringo show but I felt tiny as hell. Like I legit wondered if I was shrinking in height or if it was just the angle of my seat. (worst thought maybe he was actually 5’3”. Like I’m 4’11.5” with like I guess tiny legs or feet because I had a hard time seeing the show on my tippy toes.)

Anyways the show was fun. The weather was cold which wasn’t fun and I think Ringo got cold a few times. Like I totally saw him trying to cover himself up to warm himself on the drums. But then later on he also did a few jumping jacks and he sounded really good so he was totally a trooper especially for his age, at almost 83.

His band was awesome too. He really minded the material from Hamish Stuart (Average White Guy Band), Edgar Winter (his own band, duh), Steve Lukather (Toto) and freakin’ Colin Hay (Men at Work)! It was really awesome to hear Rosanna, Hold the Line (one of my fave songs), Who Can It Be Now, and Free Ride along with Ringo’s songs.

I was nearly in tears during Photograph, that’s such a heavy beautiful song. And of all the Beatles songs he did, it was most fun to be in a large audience with Ringo singing a long to Yellow Submarine.

He seemed to have a lot of fun doing Johnny B. Goode. If you’re a Beatles fan or a fan of any of those other bands, def go see em live. They did a few jams together like during Edgar’s Frankenstein and Hamish’s Cut the Cake.

OH and I’m disappointed that the crowd initially started to sit down during I’m the Greatest which I think effected Ringo’s performance of that song. I love that song. It’s such a goofy fun rocker. To be fair, when Lennon wrote it for him Ringo it had the line “and now I’m only 32 and all I wanna do is boogaloo” and now he changed the lyrics “I’m only 82..”. Although the lines about being in the “greatest show on Earth for what it was worth” and “Yes, my name is Billy Shears…” got nice pops from the crowd so it wasn’t a total boo the crowd song.

“And now I’m a man, a woman took me by the hand. And you know what she told me, I was great.”

“I looked in the mirror. I saw my wife and kids. And you know what they told me? I was great!”

Such fun lyrics to sing! 😎

Btw hot damn, I can’t stop listening to Overkill, a Men at Work tune.

[girlofgray]

Hi hi, been a while.

Yesterday threw me for a loop so I decided that I’m writing it out and letting it go. I was supposed to be doing this daily anyway and I never did that so fuck it, here it is. We’re starting today because I’m super annoyed that all I do is get worried about dudes and I’m a grown ass bitch and have no business with that shit at this point in my ditzy little life.

I woke up already pissed and I’ve been on a a kind of aggression kick from D&D because omg why is it always DURING my sessions that suddenly I’m the most important person and need to be bothered. But whatever the day yesterday was pretty normal, nothing of note.

Eight period just really ticked me off because like I KNOW it’s almost the end of school, I KNOW that this is the last class keeping you from freedom, but for the love of all that is sacred can you get your nose out of your phone and quit thinking that I can’t tell what you’re doing when you have your giant backpack on the tiny desk to try to block my view or look at your glowing crotch all class as if its a normal occurrence for humans to just stare at their own genitals for an hour. I asked a kid to put their phone up and they didn’t want to. Which, ugh here we go, so I insisted because I have a designated spot, its part of the very few set rules in my class and still nothing, so OBVIOUSLY I got up to just go get the phone that was still super visible and not being ignored. NOW its a confrontation for her, so again “no” and “you can’t tell me what to do” “I don’t wanna get up” “you can’t have my things” so WITHOUT touching this child I just simply dragged the desk closer to the phone pouches and said “there you don’t have to walk now” and they and their teenage audacity had the nerve to STILL ask someone else across the room to do it for them. She eventually did put it back but THEN the little shit said “oh now take me back” like nope, not a taxi. And then fine done, see so simple, but no as they’re completing a task I have a look around the room and god forbid she was in my eye line that she immediately went into the “WHAT?!” Like chill tf out child. I already got what I wanted.

Anyway, it was annoying and uncalled for after all that shit just because she didn’t wanna get up and do the bare minimum for class, so yeah I wrote here up and then called her for the chat outside the class. She made the biggest sigh when she heard me call her like, legit tf you think was gonna happen? And I was at this point getting SO FUCKING PISSED because I can’t tell the kid straight up wtf. So I’m there starting to shake because I have a propensity for violence but I don’t engage because yeah I like my job and having money. So yeah it was sooooo fucking annoying.

Then I get home and immediately my mom lets me know that my grandma almost coded Sunday night (the night before for me when she told me ) and that she’s in the hospital, I was supposed to take my mom to the hospital but it was bad time because I had the biggest migraine ever and Jacob was going through it as well because his mom was dealing with possible appendicitis and the AMBULANCE was saying it was gonna arrive in FOUR HOURS, imagine. The ER actually ended up sending them a taxi and the ER itself said oh it’ll be SEVEN FUCKING HOURS before you get seen. Jacob said “yeah you better not get sick in the UK” and legit fuck that. Here it’ll cost you a mortgage, but at least you’ll get seen.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

My Angel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Disabled!Reader

Word Count: 1395

Warnings: Fluff, Talk of Disability, Emotional Issues,

Summary: Steve is proud to call you his wife even when life throws a curve ball and you fall sick. No matter what anyone says you are his saving grace, his beautiful Angel. He will always be happy to remind you how much you mean to him.

A/N: This is for @gotnofucks​ body positivity challenge. The challenge says “Pick something that may make someone self-conscious or insecure and make them feel better about themselves.” I chose my disability that I deal with every single day. Some know about it. I don’t normally discuss it much but this challenge really spoke to me. So you will see a glimpse into our lives. I read this to my husband and he legit cried. He said, “It’s like you wrote exactly what I feel about you.” He did laugh when I told him I put Steve Rogers in the husband role. LOL!

A/N 2: Italics are a flashback. Also, thank you to @pigwidgeonxo​ & @music-culture-mythology​ for beta reading this.

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal accounts on Tumblr & AO3 then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

The warmth from the sun casts its rays across their shared bed as his wife sleeps peacefully curled up next to him. He smiles knowing that she is his little angel and he feels blessed to have her by his side.

Life hasn’t been easy for them since the diagnosis that she received. Steve had promised her the day they got the news he would be by her side every step of the way. Their journey so far has seen many hospital visits, doctor appointments, and a variety of different tests. All of them saying there is nothing they can do for her except treat the symptoms.

So every morning Steve lets her sleep knowing that her body kept her up late from the pain she was in. Exhaustion had taken over only an hour ago as she softly cried against his chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Steve gets up quietly like most mornings and gets himself showered and dressed. By the time his sweet angel wakes up, he's by her side. His strong hands are soft and careful as he helps her stand up. The risk of fainting is high as she goes from being in bed so long to now suddenly standing, but as she wavers Steve holds her hips tight until the feeling passes.

Steve places her walker in front of her body, her hands holding tight as she takes her first steps of the day. He follows closely behind her as she makes her way to the bathroom. 

Her legs feel like jello as she walks 'pigeon-toed' as the doctor calls it to the bathroom. She can barely get her legs to move but she presses on to get her morning routine over with. Her motto is always a simple one, “get two feet on the ground and it will be a good day.” That’s what she has lived by since her body started to break down. 

Once she has relieved herself, washed her hands, and brushed her teeth she heads back to the bedroom. 

Steve follows again behind her until she reaches the bed. He knows her heart is beating as if she just ran a race, so he guides her to sit down so he can grab her clothes for the day. Many people have told him he should have married someone healthy, who can work and bring something to the marriage. As he slowly dresses her for the day he recalls a conversation that took place last night.

“I don’t know why you are with her. She can’t give you the life you deserve. She is a fragile doll that could break at any minute. How are you supposed to have children when you are taking care of her?” Sharon tried to plead her case but Steve cut her off.

Steve narrowed his eyes at her, his stance widening as his anger simmered to a boil. “What I deserve is to be happy and she makes me feel that every single day. She is so strong getting up every morning with a smile on her face. She doesn’t complain about what she can’t do or how much she suffers. Instead, she conquers the day like a goddess and I’m literally in awe of her. If you could live one day in her shoes I know for a fact you wouldn’t have an ounce of grace like she does.” Steve had stormed off away from Sharon and as soon as his eyes locked with his wife’s he could see the tears in her eyes. He knew that his friend hurt his wife but the tears were not from what Sharon said. Instead, his wife later confessed she couldn’t believe how he once again stood up for her against someone who was supposed to be his friend.

The fact is Steve wouldn’t change a thing about his marriage or the woman he fell in love with. Watching her every day persevering in the face of uncertainty makes him feel proud to call her his wife. Unlike other women in the past, his angel has been by his side in good and bad times. She has never judged his past, has always given him the emotional support he has always craved. Most importantly, she has loved him as no other has ever had in his past. He would go to hell and back for her if he needed to. His angel was his everything.

Gently Steve carried her from the bedroom to the couch in the living room. He places a blanket over her lap and hands his angel a book she’s been reading over the last several days. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead he makes his way into the kitchen and prepares breakfast. Once her meal is made he carries it out to the couch and puts it on the tv tray next to her. 

As she eats her meal in peace Steve brings out the first of many medicines that she has to take that day, placing them on her table. Sipping his coffee he can’t help but smile as her eyes close and she hums in content from eating everything he cooked. She took her pills with the rest of her juice and looked into his blue eyes.

“What are you smiling about?” she asks.

Placing his coffee on the table next to the couch he watches her as she fidgets. “I’m smiling because of you angel. I think you are the only one who likes what I cook.”

“Well I mean it’s either eat this or starve.” She jokes as she side-eyes him.

“Why you little punk.” Steve moves quickly, gently pinning her to the couch, and starts to tickle her sides. She squeals as his fingers lightly move into her more ticklish spots. “Are you saying my cooking is bad?” He playfully mocks as she laughs harder. Steve’s legs are straddling her body, caging her in as he teases her.

“I was joking! I love your cooking. Steve-please!” She chuckles as his fingers finally stop. He knows not to push her too hard as she catches her breath. 

Steve pulls her to sit up as they both smirk at one another. “Are you okay, angel?” His hands rub up and down her arms.

“Of course I am. I’m not a fragile doll despite what others think.” She looks away from him thinking of the night before.

Steve's heart feels like it could break. “Hey doll, look at me.” She hesitates a moment before looking back at him, his hand grasps hers as he kisses the back of each one. “I don’t want you to even let what that woman said last night get to you.”

“But Steve…” she tries to plead her case but he interrupts her.

“Listen, you are my wife. I fell in love with you for who you are. You, my angel, are the strongest woman that I know. You get up every day and fight battles that I could never imagine. On top of that, you never ask for sympathy and legit get mad at people when they try to pity you. You’re brave, positive, resilient, compassionate, and most of all a badass.” 

Steve wipes her tears away as she chuckles. “I don’t know about badass babe.” 

“Are you saying I don’t know a badass when I see one? I mean hell, Nat couldn’t even hold a candle to you and I’ve literally watched her kick ass. You’re my beautiful wife Mrs. Rogers. I don’t want anyone else in this world or, hell, the entire universe.” Steve gently cups her cheek and she nuzzles into it. “Do you remember our vows? We both said, in sickness and in health. I’m always going to be here no matter what. You’re stuck with me angel until the end of the line.”

Leaning towards him she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a passionate kiss. At that moment after hearing him talk all she feels is love and admiration. Every doubt she has melts away as he expunges every negative thought she has about herself. It doesn’t matter what others think or how they saw her. To Steve, she hung the moon high in the night sky and shines bright for all to see. This is true love and true love conquers all.

[danepopfrippery]

Since this isnt the shit hole that is reddit I’d like to muse on that interview Kayvan did. Its strictly my opinion but i spent an hour on it so I have thoughts. And I do want to stress Im white, so my opinion is not remotely a representative for poc fans. Adam the interviewer went right to the heart of it, asking every question Id hoped to hear asked. It struck me as he was kind of embarrassed, and just couldnt get to the simple apology. It did strike me he seems sincere in his intentions, which is exposing racism. But even in acknowledging he can have blind spots he just...couldnt see the obvious one when even asked to his face.

He did seem to state he has no intention of ever doing such dress up again, but he feels free to do accents and such for fone jackers. DW Griffith, the most famous of racists (Birth of a Nation, the first film blockbuster and also revival of the klan) had a similar spot. He really thought he was legit right, that he was telling truth with Birth of a Nation. When called for being the fucking racist he was, he replied by bankrupting himself making a film to call such things out, titled “Intolerance”. Intolerance is ok as a film, no blackface i recall. It was a flop. He seemed to think his intentions were sincere, but couldnt get past his own massive blind spot. Ironically his racism inspired black filmmakers to make their own industry, launching Oscar Michaeux to segregated fame. Tbh Ive never read anything showing Griffith even knew that happened.

Kayvan is no Griffith, hes not relaunching the klan. This interview left me feeling a bit annoyed, still wanting an apology, but not making me go ‘k i cant watch the show anymore.’ I think theres still hope he can see through his own blind spot. And unlike Griffith for the most part I think his intentions are sincere in non black face (trying to find racism against people who cant english good etc). It was a very good podcast and timely to a lot of us Americans seeing this for the first time. But I find it a bit...interesting he never even promoted it. It debuted last week and I had no idea til reddit mentioned it. I hadnt even seen it POSTED on reddit. Its like he doesnt want to put it in the spotlight, thinking it’ll go away.

Someone wrote only black fans have a right to be outraged. I dont know their ethnicity, and I think they meant well. But I cant agree. If the fandom just looks at this, goes meh, and keeps on we’re failing our poc buddies. To be a good ally is to use your power to help those who are overlooked. I think everyone has a right to be outraged. While america was birth of blackface it hasnt been common through the 10s on tv here (Always sunny and the two reality shows are all i can think of). It is shocking because if Id seen it in 2014 Id still have been pissed. BUT the past can not be changed. Its what you do today and tomorrow that matters.

[yuri-alexseygaybitch]

since I’m feeling defensive about it and don’t have anything better to do I’m just gonna go through some common complaints about Cyberpunk 2077 and why they’re wrong, in my (correct obviously) opinion

The game is buggy and unplayable

The game is entirely playable, including on PS4/Xbox One. Obviously it doesn’t perform as well in terms of frame rate and load times on “last” gen consoles but you can 100% still play it. Is it buggy? No more so than The Witcher 3 was and legitimately far less so than your average Bethesda game.

It’s not real cyberpunk because it’s not politically left-leaning enough

The idea that cyberpunk is some inherently radical and leftist genre because its aesthetic (and it IS an aesthetic) is vaguely anti-capitalist and anti-establishment is stupid and you know it. With that said, the game is actually more left-leaning than your average cyberpunk story IMO for dozens of reasons I’m not going to individually list out. Is it still made by a shitty company that did cringe PR stuff with Elon Musk? Yes, but I’m interested in evaluating the game based on what the people who actually designed and wrote it put in it, not marketing/corporate BS.

It’s not real cyberpunk because it’s not queer/punk enough

Once again I have no idea where this idea that cyberpunk is a “queer” genre came from since it’s empirically one of the most aggressively cishet manpain spec fic subgenres to exist. And once again CP2077 actually is queerer than most cyberpunk fiction because it has numerous canonically queer character who play major roles in the story (including Johnny Silverhand and potentially V). There’s trans character customization options and a fairly prominent trans woman character played by a trans actress which is way more than most AAA games can say on a good day. Numerous queer people worked on the game as developers and writers, including the quests director Mateusz Tomaszkiewicz, who is a gay man.

Your choices don’t matter and you can’t roleplay as whoever you want

This is the part where I wonder what the fuck people were smoking (if they played the game at all) because your choices absolutely do matter, they’re just usually not as simple and obvious as “decide which faction/character wins at the end of the quest/game” (although there’s plenty of those too, e.g. deciding who becomes mayor, deciding what happens to Arasaka, deciding what happens to Johnny, etc.). In particular the endings of the game are legitimately some of the most impressively divergent both thematically and gameplay-wise I’ve seen in any game. Depending on your choices the entire last two hours of the game can be completely different. As for roleplaying, V, like Geralt, isn’t a complete blank slate character like a Bethesda or Obsidian protag and was never intended to be. If you don’t like to play as relatively-predefined characters in RPGs that’s fine but it’s not a knock against the game it’s just your preference. Deal.

CDPR lied and the game is way different from what was shown off

Once again I don’t know what the fuck people were looking at pre-release because everything CDPR showed of the game from the E3 2018 demo onwards is like 90% accurate to how the game was on launch. The original 2018 demo is nearly identical to what the first hour of the game is like (after you play through V’s origin story). The 2019 demo is exactly how that mission played out in the final game. Almost all of the gameplay stayed the same except for the removal of wall-running (which was barely shown off anyway) and changing some of the hacking mechanics to make it easier. Does it look as polished and flawless as it did in the trailers and demos? No because those were fucking ads for the game and literally every game has looked and run better in marketing shit than in the final product since the beginning of time.

BONUS: actual legit criticisms of the game I think are valid and it should be knocked for

The fact that the game WAS pretty fucked up on launch, the crunch, the ethnic stereotyping, the occasional queerphobic elements (e.g. Fingers), some of the weird implications regarding the trans CC options (e.g. gender = voice), the orientalism, the wonky AI esp. the police AI, the aforementioned marketing cringe, the crappy mouse/keyboard controls, the lack of post-launch support and add-ons aside from basic patches

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. ���Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

[fvrxdrm]

Last Night (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: Infinite Darkness!Leon x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Implied sex

This is about a dream I had a few nights ago. I added a few things at the end bc the ending in my dream didn’t make sense but I’ll explain it later at the end notes.

*****

“Ugh! She’s a fucking headache!”

The coolness of the air conditioning in the briefing room dried up the remaining sweat on your back and forehead and your hands went disgustingly sticky with the clamminess clinging into your palm. Fatigued and dozy you were, you were sure you were going to pass out right there in your seat.

You, along with your partner, Leon, were tasked to save Ashley Graham again, this time in a more urban part of Italy. When the president told you about her getting kidnapped again, you legit rolled your eyes and Leon nudged your side when he saw the subtle gesture you displayed. Had Leon had the audacity to disrespect people who had higher power than him in his line of work, he would’ve flipped the president off and took the both of you to a nearby bar. He wasn’t like that though, much to your dismay. He still had that “mama’s boy” attitude in him even when he left some of it during his “rookie day” or night or something.

You were close to rioting that time. They were going to send you to that fucking mission again with only the two of you and hand you both shitty-ass pistols with ten fucking bullets. Who the fuck does that? Wouldn’t you send the whole team if you, the president of the United fucking States, had a daughter that’s been kidnapped? Also, why the fuck didn’t they enhance the fucking security level? Hello? Parenting 101?

Leon crashed onto the couch beside you, making you bounce a bit, before shaking his hair from the grease and dampness his locks held. “Agreed. I might’ve lost my ears right there…again,” he grunted as he stretched his arms above his head and managed to pop a few joints in the process. “Wanna grab a few drinks after this?”

With your head leaned against the back of the couch, you turned to look at your friend with jaded eyes and a lazy smile. You nodded in response and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Sure.”

*****

You may or may not have had one too many drinks and danced around like a fucking worm on crack. Leon had one of his arms wrapped around your waist and a glass of whiskey in his free hand as he ground against your skirt-clad ass while you responded back with the same enthusiasm as him. Both of you were drunk, that’s for sure. Not only with pure intoxication, but also with a sinful desire; something you two unknowingly shared on nights where fingers worked their magic to bring you both to a blissful high. You knew they weren’t enough to satisfy your wants, but they were enough to calm your racing thoughts temporarily instead of committing to a one-time thing and bringing awkwardness in the atmosphere, at least you thought it would’ve been a one-time thing.

Leon whispered naughty things into your ear, things he wouldn’t have said had he been conscious enough to stop himself from making a move, and boldly dipped a finger in your skirt and rubbed your pussy through your underwear. He was going to make love to you, he said, and he would make sure that you would be his. You bit your lip as you moaned at his words. He was hot and you would gladly let him fuck you anytime, anywhere. And so, you agreed.

*****

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The provoking sound of your phone pulled you away from your dream. Your fantasy was so close to getting to the good part. Leon was about to fucking kiss you and then somebody decided to fucking wake you up! You sighed. If somebody woke you up this early then you guessed it was really important. So, despite being piqued and groggy from the sudden sound, you picked your phone up from the night stand beside your bed, not even thinking about how different your room looked, and checked the time before answering the call. “Hello?” You spoke, your voice raspy and your throat feeling like a thousand knives were stabbed into it. You also took note of how your head felt like you were banging it against the wall with so much speed and vigor and attempted to ease it down with a simple massage but to no avail.

“Morning, Y/N!”, the voice from the other line boomed, causing your agonizing condition to aggravate even more.

Ashley

You groaned at the contrasting enthusiasm the girl had and you had to slam the phone on the mattress to ground yourself and keep you from dying. “Can you keep your voice down? I have a headache right now and it would be much appreciated if you could calm down,” you said after bringing your device back to your ear.

“Oh, sorry. I was just going to ask if you could meet me in the church later? I wanted to talk to you about something while we get everything set for my wedding tomorrow. I tried calling Leon, but he wouldn’t answer. Can you do me a favor of telling him about it too?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him.”

“Thanks, Y/N! I’ll see you later,” she said. The call ended with a series of beeps and you slammed your phone on the bed again with your eyes shut tight in irritation.

I cannot deal with that girl again. Especially now that I’m hungover… But who am I to deny the president’s fucking daughter…?

You sighed.

Welp, time to call Leon.

You raised your phone up parallel to your face and was about to press Leon’s saved contact name when you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your torso. Your heart pounded. With eyes opened wide and brain waking up from its slumber in an instant, you slowly turned your head towards your left and almost screamed at what you saw…or rather who you saw.

Leon.

His chest was exposed to the warmth of the morning air, hair strands clamped together by oil and sweat that was starting to form on his skin. He was still deep in his slumber and you noticed how the round bulge tucked in his eyelids moved around as if he was exploring something in his dream.

Never had you and Leon shared a bed together. Those times where he would come over to your place for a drink? He would always insist that he could just crash into your couch in order to avoid invading your privacy.

You panicked at the situation you were in. You grabbed the hem of your blanket and yanked it up to check if anything did happen, and surprise, surprise; something did. You were both naked and you felt something drying up down there. You also started taking notice of how your vagina felt sore from probably getting pounded and fucked silly last night-

Oh, right! Last night.

You vaguely remembered how Leon touched your body while you two were getting drunk. You two were getting a bit too flirty and began groping each other here and there, getting more and more suggestive as minutes passed, pie-eyed and unconscious with how you were treating each other as more than friends.

Every corner and every wall your eyes passed was becoming a void of something dark, something you became anxious of. What happened would forever change your friendship and your relationship with him for sure. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he was going to stay by your side starting from when he wakes up in a few minutes. And as much as you wanted to go back and prevent that from happening, you couldn’t, and you had to face the music whether you liked or not.

*****

Sure enough, when you woke Leon up, everything was awkward. No words were exchange from when you prepared for the day, breakfast, and until Leon drove you both to the location Ashley had told you to go to. The silence rose hysteria in both of your minds. You were going fucking crazy. You were fidgety when you sat beside Leon in the passenger seat and the man would bounce his leg up and down when you hit a red light. You both were trying to avoid taking a glance at each other, but those inevitable moments that you did, you would forcefully smile at each other and then gaze back out the window again. That was the cycle you lived on for a few hours and you decided to let it stay like that until one of you broke the atmosphere.

You waited inside the church as you were told. It was only the two of you inside but you acted like a handful of people were sitting beside you with the amount of space that was left unfilled between you. You were biting your lip and focusing on the pillars and stones that made up the building until you couldn’t process anything that was happening anymore and stood up, studying the interior as you roamed. “Hey,” you heard somebody whisper behind you. You looked down to your wrist when you felt something warm and saw a fairly large hand loosely gripping onto it before looking up to see Leon’s eyes gazing into yours. You nearly got lost in them but thankfully, he spoke before you got stuck into your own stupor. “I just wanna say… I’m sorry. I-it’s not gonna change everything that happened but I don’t want to break what we have. I value you and our friendship too much for me to let it go. I don’t think we can forget about last night but if it makes you feel better…I-I-“

“Can we talk about this outside? I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to talk about it here,” you chuckled. Leon nodded in agreement before leading you out to where a garden caught your attention. “Listen Leon, I know we can’t just pretend nothing happened but… I don’t wanna let go of this either. I value this as much as you do and it would be crazy stupid for me just to just hate you for something we weren’t even conscious about or something,” you said. You both laughed in relief as the weight on your shoulders dissipated into thin air before you placed a gentle palm on his cheek. Again, no words were shared but this time, no anxiety was present. Instead, you felt like this was an intimate moment only the two of you shared. Something was being written in the stars and you saw every word the gods wrote in the eyes of the person in front of you both.

As cheesy as it sounded, you two felt like magnets were pulling you towards each other, physically and mentally, and in a matter of seconds, you found your lips being pressed against Leon’s.

It was like you were recreating what happened last night without even knowing the details, except this was slower, more sensual, and certainly more emotional, and you couldn’t help the tears that flowed freely against your cheeks.

“Come on, let’s ditch Ashley. Maybe we could relive what happened last night?”

*****

Okay, so in my dream, Ashley’s not getting married and she didn’t call me. Instead, what happened was after the bar scene, Leon and I got teleported in front of the altar and just fucking talked. And then we walked outside and what happened in the end of this fic happened in my dream. Lol.

I rushed this bc I’m tired.

[chickabee]

SoRRY I JUST WANNA FANGIRL ABOUT THE BLUES REAL QUICK

This ship is my HEART

I love them so much omg. I just wanna talk about them in the mth universe real quick okay? Okay.

I love how SBJ wrote Boomer.

I SINCERELY LOVE THE WAY SHE WROTE HIM.

Oh god. Im going back to my early 2012 days when i was obsessed with fanimations of the Powerpuff girls and i would legit sit around and watch hours of the same animated stuff (im looking at you rrb x ppnkg Katy Perry ET fan music video)

But because we were all pretty young at the time and not really that creatively original, we all sort of just made Boomer some innocent, soft boy in the fanfics who instantly fell for Bubbles and they would just be a couple.

BUT GAH DAMN DID SBJ SUBVERT MY EXPECTATIONS.

Being a kiddo at the time, and assuming that only people around my age were writing ppg fanfics, I was like "TCH, why is everyone on Deviant art obsessing over this More Than Human cRAp. I caN wRiTE a BeTTeR fAnFIc."

But then I read it.

And it was more than grammar/spelling errorless, unlike most fics I read.

the characters had DIMENSION.

I didn't expect to see

Blossom as a dancer

Butch into Blossom (i was a big cry baby over color crack ships, but her fic became the exception.)

Brick being mature and scary

BOOMER AS A GOOFBALL

AND BUBBLES LITERALLY DENYING HIM OF HIS AFFECTION

Talk about a full 180.

And I know, I KNOW THAT DOESN'T SEEM LIKE A BIG DEAL. BUT OMG WHEN I TELL YOU THEIR EARLY INTERACTIONS ARE SO FUCKIN-

AHHHHHHHHH

Its the way Boomer tries to pin her for me.

It's the way he's literally obsessed for me.

It's the Bubbles seeing right through him for me.

IT'S THE "MR. STEAL YO GIRL" ATTITUDE FOR ME.

Boomer has literally worked so MOTHA FUKN hard to get this ONE GIRL'S ATTENTION who , as Brick clearly puts it, "IS THE ENEMY"

And he falls for her over a Mariah Carey song. HE KNEW IF YOU COULD SING LIKE MIMI... BITCH THERE IS NO COMPETITION.

Omg i feel bad for Hailey.

Oh yeah and, he and Hailey... Bruh. This guy gets his ex to agree to play an Avril song with him just so he can serenade BUBBLES.

THAT IS SO

Boomer. Omg that is so Boomer cause it's like his thought process>> "I know we broke up, but your guitar skills are awesome and I really need you blessing.... Yes by your blessings im referring to your guitar playing...Yes this is for another girl"

" ...Yes it's for Bubbles... Please don't hate me."

And just the fact that Bubbles is like, "Hun, I don't care if you're up there singing "I will Always Love you" to me. If the name ain't Will, you can gon' 'head and chill. "

But Boomer is so determined.

Everytime he gets the chance to impress her, he doesn't hesitate. He's sung to her in the rain (sort of). He picked up on joining the school musical just to have the slim opportunity of kissing her. Can you imagine him , up at like 1 a.m on a school night watching a bunch of musicals foR BUBBLES.

And their banter is so cute! Bubbles knows Boomer's game and she likes to play it just enough to keep HERSELF entertained. She is fully aware she's tempering with a ROWDYRUFF BOY. She see's his tricks from a mile away.

So they just go back and forth and back and forth because really, even though Boomer says he doesn't take his shenanigans with Bubbles seriously...

This is the only thing he's had to work for. Like legit, everything else he's got was because of a hand out or advantages.

His musical talent: a handout from HIM

His first girlfriend: The advantages of his good looks

JS Inc: An advantage from being Bricks brother and being a rowdyruff boy

No neck joe: His advantage of playing instruments (and because he was a ruff boy)

Him becoming popular: his advantages of, music, rrb background and good looks BOOM

BUT DON'T NONE OF THAT SHIT IMPRESS BUBBLES ENOUGH TO GIVE HIM THE TIME OF DAY 😭

She doesn't care that he's hot, that he's popular, that he can literally play her anything ahe wants, just how she likes it. She doesn't care that he says "he'll be nice" or "play fair" or whatever, or that he's literally so charming, so smooth, he treats her as if she's the only girl to exist in his world. He's tried to amplify that he cares about her by hurting other people- BUT IT'S IN HER NAME.

No. What Bubbles want is simple...

It's commitment.

If he can't be committed to love her (I mean look at how easily he threw Hailey aside), or be there when she needs him, or simply BE COMMITTED TO BEING A GOOD PERSON.

Then she can not date him.

Because she doesn't just want to date a cute guy, she wants to be in love with someone she trusts...

And at first it seems like Boomer just wants to have her as an accessory to his life, and he DOES. The guy literally expects her to drop her relationship with Will just so they can live out his five minute fantasy.

But slowly he realizes, it's more than that magnificent voice. He likes to see her flustered and he doesn't like seeing her upset because of what people say about her. He doesn't want her to be annoyed by him, or to just brush off his advances.

He starts to really want her.

Like REALLY want her, because whatever they've built, that's the only thing he's had to work for in his life, and he loves her for that. He loves her even more when she implies that he is just as important as his brothers and that it's okay to be just a teenager in love. He loves her and his music, she doesn't ask for more from him. She wants him to be happy, and he wants to just be happy with her.

AHH FUCK I CAN TALK FOREVER ABOUT THESE TWO OKAY??

FOREVER

THEY ARE MY OTP

But dear lord, I've been typing for some time

Anyway, YES. I adore their dynamic. Boomer may be more of a douche than he realizes but he's never had to work for anything. He's never really been challenged. Bubbles is his only challenge EVEN WHEN THEY GET TOGETHER, he begins questioning the longevity of what they have because he's reminded that he's not the first and Bubbles has a heart of her own. No matter what he does, because of who she is (not just to him, but in general) he cannot manipulate that. He can not force Bubbles to love him if she falls out of love with him. And that's so world shattering for him because the girl is literally his WORLD. Like no other person could replace her because Bubbles is literally all of who he is. He feels like, if he loses her, what is he? What's his purpose? This is the only thing he's ever built.

Which is really, incredibly sad because he shouldn't think of their relationship like that, but he's so deeply in love with her, for him there really is no other. You could try to hand him "the girl of his dreams" and he'd just... Sort of laugh and turn right to Bubbles because everyone knows, THAT'S the girl of his dreams. It's the only girl he'd want to be with.

A lot of people probably won't believe me if I said I'm also a big boomercup shipper, because their dynamic just works so well.

Okay, i am done FANGIRLING. Thanks for reading my long ass post.

[nxrthmizu]

| studying for finals with haikyuu!! boys |

a/n | I was stressed. This happened.

/ karasuno. / 

↬ daichi 

before I start let me just say that we all need an emotional support daichi™

legit the best person to study with, he’s very calm and collected, probably has all the notes categorised in date / topic order 

his pep talks are the absolute best, at the end of them you always gain a teensy bit more of self-confidence 

explains everything in simple words that makes the hardest things easy to understand 

↬ sugawara 

the prettiest notes ever, I swear 

colour-coded and with a few sticky notes here and there for extra information 

probably wears those elastic hair bands and would have an extra one for you in your favourite colour in his bag :3 

will share his notes, god bless this man with a happy and successful life 😌

hmm the two of you might’ve been doing daily revision throughout the semester so you’re probably well prepared! (and if you’re not, suga has his stack of flashcards with all the important bits of info ready ;) ) 

↬ nishinoya 

chaos, utter chaos 😬

it’s either (a) you’re just as confused as him or (b) you’re frantically trying to stuff as much info as possible into his brain before the exam date 

ennoshita will look on in pity (and maybe disgust) 

I’m 99.99% sure that this guy right here doesn’t even understand the meaning of filing so please have your notes ready because he sure doesn’t have them 

↬ tsukishima 

library study sessions; tsukki brings earphones so you two can share ;) lo-fi music on loop! 

the study sessions are very quiet :3 the two of you do your own revision and there’s an occasional question every half an hour 

he reluctantly gets up for coffee run... he might act like he doesn’t care but he has memorised what type of coffee you like! 

if the two of you study in his house, tsukki will have the two of you run up into his room to avoid his brother and mom because he doesn’t trust them not to embarrass him 

↬ yamaguchi 

mutual panic 

he has nice notes! they’re not very colourful and they’re all highlighted in only one colour but he’s willing to share 

very good at explaining things too! it helps him remember the stuff as well so its’ all a win-win situation 

oooh and he likes to eat sweet things while he studies so if the two of you are at his house he’ll have a prepared platter of food to munch on,, don’t be shy, ask for some, he’ll share 😉

/ aoba johsai. / 

↬ oikawa 

studying with him can get a little annoying sometimes because he’s the one guy that goes ‘oh my god I didn’t study I’m going to fail’ and scores straight As

but he knows all the stuff and can teach you, so that’s a plus 

he only uses a light blue highlighter, its’ almost the same shade as the volleyball uniform 

also has this aqua-coloured post-its he uses everywhere 

insists on drinking hot chocolate instead of coffee because coffee is bad for you in large amounts 

↬ iwaizumi 

oooo it’ll be nice to study with him 

for some reason I feel like he’d be blaring the godzilla soundtrack if he had his earphones with him 

isn’t ever annoyed if you need help with a question, extremely patient 

he takes breaks every half-an-hour, if the two of you are dating he might want to lie on your lap for a while ;) 

/ shiratorizawa. / 

↬ shirabu 

selfish gremlin that won’t share his notes >:( 

would probably tell you to go away and don’t disturb him because he’s studying 😤

listens to classical music when he’s studying. he hums along to it. and no, he’s not aware that he hums. don’t ever point it out, he’ll get too embarrassed to ever look you in eye again. 

has minuscule handwriting, so if you ask him what working is for a question you need a magnifying glass + excessive squinting to figure out what the hell he wrote 

/ nekoma. / 

↬ kuroo 

he’s the rational one, he’s definitely the prepared one, he’s not the panicking one 

would help you de-stress by getting you food, coffee/tea/hot chocolate/preferred beverage, rubbing your back, and then would calmly work you through what you’re confused about 

the perfect study partner 

will he crack stupid chemistry puns to help relief the tension? absolutely, and we love him for it 

↬ yaku 

he’s not the best student, but he’s pretty chill, I think 

when you’re studying with him don’t ever say ‘oh my god mori I’m going to fail...’ because morisuke will slap sense into you, and you can bet its’ going to hurt 

if you’re confused he’ll try to help you, but if its’ the really complicated shit (chemistry I’m looking at you) he’d just. ‘give me a second I’m calling kuroo, he has one purpose and this is it.’ 

gives aggressively supportive pep talks (and they work) 

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours​ @knmiakira [Send an ask to be added to by general haikyuu!! taglist]