#this is the closest to nudity you will ever see babes

[xxcherrycherixx]

" Blondie believes that she will never fit in. she's no social outcast or anything- but when she compares herself to her friends and classmates she begins to feel like a puzzle piece trying to fit into a jenga tower. so she squeezes and bends and rips herself to fit into any tiny crack she can, she desperately curates a perfect persona hiding everything that doesn't fit the mold she has created for herself.

after a drop in her mental health she starts wandering the forests behind her home at night, she knows its risky to go out so late and especially to a place so dangerous- but that's the point. she would never admit this morbid intention, admitting that's what she's doing is something she never wants to do. shes not that kind of person, she doesn't have those kinds of issues- instead she pretends she just wants to feel the cold breeze on her skin, or admire the peaceful quiet the night brings.

on one of these dark nights she finds a girl, she lay bare and unconscious on the ground, her shallow breathing being the only indication she's even alive. blondie quickly wakes the girl, she's heard the dark news stories of young women who get taken to private locations, assaulted and left for dead by their attackers. when the girl comes to, she looks at blondie with confusion. "can you hear me? are you alright? do you need medical attention?" blondie asks, the girl squints "i can hear you, im fine"

"are you sure? you're laying in the forest naked." the girl looks down at herself and around before letting out a hum " do you know how to get to-" her brows furrow "i need to go back to-" a look of distress washes over her. Blondie raises a brow at the weird behavior "i don't think you're fine, did you bash your head or something?" the girl looks to her with tears in her eyes "i cant remember my home, i don't remember who i am or how i got here" "

During a bout of severe depression, Blondie discovers a strange girl in the forest who claims to have lost her memory. the two team up to try to recover the lost memories and help the lost girl get home, but as they search for any clues, the two grow close. blondie learns to see both life and herself in a different way.

meanwhile as they delve deeper into the mystery things only become more strange, with nonexistent answers and constant dead ends, the lost girl starts to worry she may never know the truth or return home.

[thewheezingwyvern]

Heres a challenge. Pixie/fairy Dabi, or even angel dabi! Something uncharacteristic for his personality xD

Oooh Nons lemme tell you I had a blast with this one. Tickled my brain just write that I was able to just bang this out in a few hours. Gotta give a shout out to @trafalgar-temptress for  helping me brainstorm on this. Really helped me get my creative juices flowing juuuuuuuuust right.

ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪

Yandere!Angel!Dabi x F!Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Noncon (implied and groping), imprisonment, kidnapping, nudity

As you can see by the warnings this is dark adult content. Minors DNI.

The first time you had ever seen him, it was next to Shouto and the most striking thing about him was his eyes. Brilliant hued sapphires that were more vivid than the sky. Ethereal almost. But every time thereafter they seemed to glow a little brighter. A little darker. A little less holy in their shine. They were almost too much to look at, blinding as they were bathed in sacred light. Shouto especially. Even his feathers shone almost like mirrors catching and magnifying the moon’s rays until they were searing.

But Touya, his light was more muted. Still bright but easier for your eyes to handle. That should have been a sign to you, for the easier an angel is to look at, the farther from grace he has become. And Shouto’s older brother became easier and easier to watch with every passing meeting. By the time you learned the truth about him it was already far too late.

The first time he saw you, it was hatred that pulsed through him. Always the favored one, you were just one more pretty thing that his brother got to have. Another way that Shouto was “better” than him. Thoughts of murder curled in the front of his mind, watching your broken mortal body fracture beneath his rage until you were nothing but a splintered wreck for Shouto to see. Until he noticed that you looked at him far more than his perfect sibling. That was the single drop of poison that bloomed in the wine, steeping him in more greed, lust and envy than he had ever tasted before.

In a way, you were the final shove to Touya’s fall.

The crashing sound of tumultuous waves against a rocky face was the first thing to greet you when you woke. Brine and breeze drifted in and wrapped around your prone form huddled under a thin blanket. The air was filled with a moan, a mournful howl that seemed to be crying for you as you stirred. You were no longer at home in the safety of your own bed, that was apparent when you drew more into consciousness and found yourself curled on a pile of thick pillows. But the detail that struck to your heart that you weren’t home was what you saw first.

Golden bars inlaid with pearl. 

They wove intricately into a gorgeous dome, twisting into a cage to keep you confined as the ocean crashed in the background. Beyond the confines of your prison you could see the open mouth of a cave that you had been tucked away into, one that opened out to face the wide open sea. Even from your spot tucked back in the corner you could tell that it was far too high for you to risk jumping even if you did manage to escape your cage. Your prison should have been a dank, dark and wet place but there were braziers placed in various nooks, burning with holy fire to help sheath the cave in a warmth that kept it cozy.

Lanterns were strung into the roof, also flickering with sacred fire to help ward off the damp. There was even some chairs, a plush rug and an exquisite tapestry strung up on the far rocky wall. Had you not been locked up, silver shackles also twisted around your ankles to further trap you, you might have enjoyed this space as a little hide away from the world. There wasn’t much to do since you were alone and the cage was far too strong for you to force open on your own. So all you could do was wait.

When the sun was sinking beyond the line of the horizon, Touya finally appeared. A dark glee curled in his chest when he saw the sheer look of relief that washed over your face when you caught sight of him. Already he could taste the hope bursting from you, a sweet little treat for him to savor before he got to rip it from your grasping hands. You collapsed against the cage, fingers wrapping against the bars as you peered out at him with teary eyes.

“Touya, I’m so happy it’s you! I don’t know how I got here but I’m glad you found me! You have to get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll let you out.”

Hope was also the thing that blinded you from the wicked glow in his eyes, the slow lap of his tongue across his lips at the thought of you realizing far too late that you were trapped by him when he held you against him. Relief was the next thing that blinded you when he unlocked the cage, completely glossing over the detail that he had the key in his pocket. Touya folded you up into his arms when you collapsed against his chest, sobs wracking your body, feathered wings arching to cover you. 

“Shouto must be worried sick!” you muttered into his chest, “How long have I been gone?”

“Two days. He’s losing his mind right now.”

Your face was buried into his chest so you couldn’t see the razor grin that had split across his gorgeous face. For good measure, he cupped a hand to the back of your head, murmuring soft comforting words to you as you quaked in his arms. It was important he savored this. It was going to be the last time for a long while before you would willingly touch him again. 

“Please take me home…”

Touya chuckled darkly, “Awww you don’t like it here?”

He watched you lift your tear stained face up, staring up at him with bewildered eyes. A thumb swiped gently at the stroke of your cheekbones before hooking down to trail along your jaw. Confusion mottled your expression before the first prick of fear flickered in your eyes. The way your mouth hung open made him want to kiss you breathless, crush you to him until you were pounding at his chest to let you go and even then go further.

“No! Why would I want to stay here in a cage?!”

“But you look so pretty in there, Dollface.”

The dark angel captured your wrists in his hands as you started to back away from him, hauling you closer. Fear burst even brighter in your eyes, your whole form quaking in his grasp. The sight made his cock twitch, breath panting ragged from his lips as you squirmed.

“T-Touya? This isn’t funny! Take me home.”

“Sorry babes. This is your home now.” the way all the hope withered in your eyes when you realized he was your captor had his blood running hot, “Poor little Shouto is just going to have to do without.”

Touya dipped his dark head down before he started leaving scorching hot kisses to your exposed neck. You trembled and thrashed but you just did not have the strength to break free of him. Just how he liked it. Roughly he whipped you around and pulled you back to chest against him, hooking his left arm around your arms to imprison them behind your back. A whimper escaped you as his free hand closed over your neck in a warning grip before sliding slowly down towards your collarbones.

“St-stop it! Touya, please!”

“God’s not here, sweetheart. So you don’t have to pretend to be so pure and innocent now. I saw the way you kept your eyes on me more than Shouto. He was too bright. Too pure for you to handle. Fact is, you craved a bit of darkness didn’t you?” he whispered wickedly into your ear, a hand groping at your right breast through the silky shift you were clad in, “My brother doesn’t deserve you and I’ve decided that I’m going to keep you. You’re mine now.”

A finger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silken fabric, pulling a choked cry from your throat. A rock hard cock rutted against the curve of your backside, summoning up his own groan of pleasure. At first he had wanted to steal you away from perfect little Shouto, the shining son, out of spite. To take away one of the things he wanted the most and wreck you. But the more time went on, the more Touya wanted you for himself. Why break such a delicious creature when he could just take you and keep you? It would stroke the wicked green eyed devil that had started to grow within his chest and also lash out the prodigal son.

“Touya please don’t do this!” you begged, a loud moan escaping you when his hand shot down to rub against your clit, “Ah-! Please! I-I won’t tell anyone if you let me go-”

The sounds of your begging unleashed a clash of emotions in him. On the one hand, hearing your voice break and plead him made his dick twitch against the curve of your ass. It was a delicious little sound and he wanted to hear more from you. But it also sparked a deep rage in him. Touya went through all of this trouble, stealing some of Heaven’s prized metal work to fashion a cage for you here. Spent months scoping out the perfect place to keep you so you couldn’t escape and no one could find you. He had even taken the extra steps to try and make it comfortable. 

“Ingrateful whore.” he snarled, tearing open your shift to bare your form to the seaside air. Any trace of gentleness he had shown before evaporated when he shoved you face first against the side of the gilded cage, “Take a good long look at this cage. Because this and me is the closest you’ll ever get to those pearly fucking gates again.”

You wondered where it had all gone wrong. Wondered how he could do something so awful to you and his brother. He was an angel, one of the holy ones, it wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. Shouto made it easy for you to forget that they could fall just like anyone else. That they could be fallible and prone to corruption.

Afterall, every demon is an angel that’s fallen from grace.

((Want to participate in Arcane April? Check out my post here about the event and send in your requests! One day left!))

[barisiscourtroom]

@thejuryisout​ Thanks for the prompt! ♥

Prompt 6 on the prompt list in question is “Doing face masks or other beauty treatments”, and I went with face masks. Kinda. It's mostly just Rafael taking care of a tired Sonny tbh, 2k of fluff. =)

This is also heavily inspired by Sonny's UC at that rapist shelter in 17x19 (Sheltered Outcasts), but I see it as taking place at some vague later time. Sonny is still a detective though, and it all takes place after he’s done.

Not important at all, but I googled “italian restaurants delivery manhattan” for a restaurant name, so that *is* an actual restaurant, but I know absolutely nothing about it more than it's Italian, in Manhattan, and probably delivers.

Big thanks to @novemberhush​ for the beta and all the help with this ♥

I hope you all like it! ♥

To Be Home ao3

2100 words | Gen characters: Sonny Carisi, Rafael Barba tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Rafael takes care of Sonny, Tired Sonny, Soft Rafael, Spoiled Sonny, Non-Sexual Nudity

The first thing Rafael did upon seeing Sonny at the precinct after Sonny had been undercover for two weeks was to cup his face between his hands and say, "Oh, baby, you look like shit."

Sonny rolled his eyes and said, "Thanks, I’ve missed you too."

Olivia and the rest of the squad didn’t give them more time than that to catch up before demanding Sonny’s time, and it was nearly four hours before they got home.

Rafael wasn’t wrong, though, Sonny really did look like shit. The bags under his eyes were big and dark, he hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was greasy and messy, his clothes ill-fitting, worn, and had some unpleasant stains. He also had some bruises after getting jumped for being thought to be a rapist a couple of days earlier, but those were all under his clothes.

Thankfully it was Friday, and they both had the weekend off. Sonny would possibly get calls about the case, but Olivia had promised him he wouldn’t have to come in until Monday morning, and even though he wanted to work the case after spending so much time on it, he was looking forward to a nice, relaxing, and most importantly comfortable weekend at home, just him and Rafael and good food and soft sheets and their wonderful shower.

Rafael asked if he wanted to cook when they got home, he knew how much Sonny liked it and how it could be downright therapeutic for him, but he could obviously also see how tired Sonny was.

"Do you want me to order take out tonight, or do you want to cook?" he asked.

Sonny sighed. "Take out," he said regretfully. "I do want to cook, but not today."

"Okay, you can cook tomorrow," Rafael said. "I’ll even help you."

"Oh boy, you have missed me," Sonny teased.

"I have missed you, my Sunshine," Rafael said, squeezing his hand. "It’s been awfully dark around here without you."

"Rafael," Sonny said, a little choked up. Rafael was very good with words when he wanted to be.

But for someone being so good with words, Rafael could sometimes have a hard time admitting things, like that he had missed Sonny, so it meant a lot to Sonny that he said that. He always showed it in other ways though, by being more tactile than usual mostly, but also by taking care of Sonny.

"Let’s go get you cleaned up and into something more comfortable," Rafael said.

"Yeah," Sonny said.

"Shower or bath?" Rafael asked as he led Sonny to their bedroom.

"Shower," Sonny said. He’d just fall asleep in a bath, and their shower really was wonderful, he had missed it.

"Okay, I’ll put out some things for you," Rafael said, opening drawers to get clothes for him.

Sonny slowly stripped his clothes off and put them in the laundry basket, and Rafael went to the bathroom, then Sonny put his phone to charge on his nightstand before joining Rafael. The clothes were in a neat pile on a shelf, a fresh towel hung outside the shower, and Rafael was fiddling with the bottles in the shower.

He turned to Sonny and looked him over when he entered the bathroom, momentarily frowning at his bruises, but then he looked Sonny in the eyes. "Oh my, there’s a naked man in my bathroom, what ever will I do," he said.

"You could kiss him?" Sonny suggested.

Rafael smiled and walked up to him to slide his arms around his waist. "Great idea," he said and tilted his head up for a kiss that Sonny readily gave him. It didn’t last long, but even those few seconds were enough for Sonny to feel some leftover tension in his body dissipate.

"I’ve missed you," he said against Rafael’s lips, and Rafael tightened his grip on him and kissed him again.

When Rafael pulled back, he frowned and gently touched next to one of Sonny’s bruises. "I don’t like this," he muttered quietly.

"It’s not too bad," Sonny said.

Rafael’s face didn’t change as he met Sonny’s eyes. "I still don’t like it," he said.

Sonny smiled. "I know, and I love you for that," he said, and Rafael’s face softened.

He cupped Sonny’s cheek, brushed his thumb over his scruff. "Straight razor tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Sonny said, nearly groaning. He had planned on shaving that day, but he loved it when Rafael shaved him with the straight razor, and he could stand being scruffy for another day if it meant he got that.

"Good. Go shower, cariño," Rafael said. "I was going to empty your bag while you do that, is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course, thanks," Sonny said. He pressed a kiss to Rafael’s forehead and stepped into the shower, and Rafael caught his hand on his way to give it a quick squeeze before leaving the bathroom.

The shower was divine, but Sonny didn’t linger. He showered carefully, washed himself meticulously, because he felt filthy and he wanted to get everything from that undercover stint off his body, but while he didn’t hurry, he didn’t stay longer than necessary either.

Once he was done and dry enough, he put on the clothes Rafael had picked for him, underwear, pajama pants, and a soft v-neck, and left the bathroom. His bag was gone from the bedroom, and his phone was still charging, so he left it on the bedside table and went to find Rafael.

"Babe?" he said.

"Yes, cariño?" Rafael said, coming from the kitchen.

Sonny smiled and pulled him in for a hug, nuzzling his face against his neck. "I just missed you," he said.

"I’m right here," Rafael said softly, holding onto him. "I was just preparing for dinner, it’ll be here soon."

"What are we having?" Sonny asked.

"Antonucci," Rafael said, and Sonny groaned, he hadn’t had proper Italian food in two weeks, the closest was mediocre pizza that was only Italian in name. "Figured you’d want some comfort food today."

"You figured right," Sonny said. "Thanks."

Rafael pulled back to cup Sonny’s face between his hands. He smiled and leaned in for a peck on the lips, then he trailed gentle fingers over his face, his forehead and under his eyes. "How about we do some face masks tonight?"

"It’s that bad, huh," Sonny said.

"Well, whatever soap you’ve used hasn’t exactly been kind to your skin. It could use a boost." Rafael said. 

"Face masks tonight, a proper bath together tomorrow?" Sonny suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Rafael said. "I’ll shave you after the bath."

"Great," Sonny said.

More than an hour later, after a slow meal with wine and dessert, Rafael dragged Sonny to the bathroom to get their face masks on. He had a couple of small single-use face packs, and he got one of those for Sonny, and his usual one for himself. Sonny rinsed his face, patted it dry-ish, then Rafael gently spread an immediately soothing gel on his face.

"Oh, that feels good," Sonny said.

"Good, I haven’t tried that one before, but it’s supposed to be good," Rafael said.

"Am I your guinea pig?" Sonny asked, smiling.

"Stop smiling so much, relax your face," Rafael said and rolled his eyes. "And no, my mother swears by it and I trust her, I just haven’t gotten around to trying it myself yet."

"Whatever you say, dear," Sonny said, working hard not to grin.

Rafael huffed, but he was smiling as he finished spreading the gel. "There," he said.

Sonny stayed to watch as Rafael rinsed his own face and applied his usual one, because he liked watching Rafael, then they went to sit in the living room to let their masks do their work for 20 minutes.

"I want to cuddle," Sonny said.

"Okay?" Rafael said.

"Like, put my head on your shoulder and tuck my face against your neck, or put my head on your chest to listen to your heart," Sonny said.

"I think you will survive 20 minutes," Rafael said.

Sonny sighed deeply. "Doubtful," he said, and Rafael laughed quietly. "Stop smiling so much, relax your face."

"Oh, shut up," Rafael said, and Sonny closed his eyes as he leaned back against the couch with a smile on his face. "For being the light of my life, you sure are a nuisance."

"You love me," Sonny said, holding out his hand for Rafael to take, which he did.

"And I have no idea why," he said.

"It’s because I’m tall," Sonny said.

"Or it could be because you’re kind," Rafael said.

"Yeah?" Sonny asked.

"I mean, it doesn’t hurt that you’re tall, but I think there’s something about your face that I like more," Rafael said.

"Really?" Sonny asked. He was probably smiling more than Rafael wanted him to in that mask, but he couldn’t be bothered to try and stifle it.

"It’s a good face, congrats on that, by the way," Rafael said. "I also think it might be because you’re so good and that you make me want to be a better man, that you’re sweet and funny and smart. Or that you’re an SVU detective, that you care so much that you just spent 2 weeks being miserable just to help people."

"Rafael," Sonny said. He turned his head to look at Rafael, found him watching him with a soft smile on his lips. "Come on, don’t make me cry, I have a face mask."

Rafael laughed quietly. "I missed you, Sunshine," he said softly, and Sonny rolled his eyes, which were getting too wet. For Rafael to have said that twice in one day, he must have missed him a lot.

"I said don’t make me cry," Sonny said, but then he squeezed Rafael’s hand. "I missed you too, love."

"I know, and we’ll be clingy and annoying this whole weekend to make up for it," Rafael said.

Sonny sighed happily. "Yeah," he said. "You’ll even help me cook."

"I’ll even help you cook," Rafael agreed. It wasn’t as if he never did, it was more that they were both usually very busy and Rafael wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, so he tended to take the opportunity to get other things done while Sonny cooked since he didn’t mind doing it on his own.

"Okay, has this been on for 20 minutes yet?" Sonny asked.

"More like five, if even that," Rafael said.

"Oh, come on," Sonny grumbled. "Why did I agree to this today? I’m too cuddly for this."

"We can watch something, take your mind off it for a while?" Rafael suggested.

"Oh, did that Canadian garage guy post anything fun?" Sonny asked, exaggerating the Canadian accent on garage.

"Let’s see," Rafael said, grabbing his laptop from the table.

He had posted, and they watched one of his videos. Sonny would never understand why it was so fun to watch a guy clean a car, but he loved his videos, and while he didn’t think Rafael liked them quite as much as he did, he knew he liked them enough to indulge Sonny and watch some of them with him.

The videos were half an hour long though, and Sonny was far too needy to sit that long without being able to cuddle properly, so twenty minutes into the video he leaned forward to tap the space bar on the laptop, pausing it.

"It’s been 20 minutes," he said.

Rafael laughed quietly and shook his head, but he followed Sonny to the bathroom, where they rinsed their masks off.

"Moisturizer too," Rafael said, taking a pot of moisturizer from the cabinet. Sonny just smiled at him, and Rafael sighed. "You’re milking this."

"Yeah," Sonny said, then closed his eyes as Rafael gently massaged the moisturizer into his skin.

He cupped his chin when he was done and pressed a kiss to Sonny’s lips. "Okay, let’s go see how that filthy car turned out," he said, putting the moisturizer away.

As soon as Rafael sat down, he held his arms out for Sonny, who immediately tucked himself against his side, his head on Rafael’s shoulder, half of his face pressed against his neck. He could barely see the end of the video, but it was worth it, finally getting some proper cuddles.

Rafael held him tight, carding fingers through his hair and touching his face, and once the video was finished, he turned more towards Sonny and wrapped him in his arms.

"It’s good to have you home," he said quietly against Sonny’s hair.

"It’s good to be home," Sonny said.

[angelisverba]

you’ll break my heart

in which y/n thinks her brother’s best friend might be playing her, and he can’t believe she would think that.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and her brother’s best friend, Jason (from the snl skit)

warnings: mentions of nudity, violence, alcohol, and drug abuse

notes: this one goes to my lovely @floralsatin . thank you, hannah, for all the inspiration, and for bearing with me :)

Y/n couldn’t believe her eyes. 

It was bound to happen. It was the main reason why she didn’t want to show up. 

But here she was, and there he was.

Jason was in the pool, with a topless girl in his lap. Literally topless. Y/n had never seen so many boobs in her life. Every girl in the pool, and a majority of the ones outside weren’t wearing anything to cover the skin above their belly buttons. And the girl on Jason’s lap was no exception. It was hard to tell because the lower half of her body was submerged below the water, but seeing how Jason was pushed up against the one of the corners in the deep end, and she was straddling him, her lower back moving back and forth, her tits pushing into Jason’s face- well, it wasn’t difficult to see why y/n would think that she’s giving him a lap dance.

And well, who doesn’t enjoy a lap dance?

His face was blocked by the girls head, but with the circulated disco-lights from the DJ at the head of the pool, y/n could see that his head was angles up towards hers. Blue, red, and green dots skimmed over the girls skin, making the droplets of water on her skin look like beads of color. 

Y/n lips began to tremble, a small whimpering noise squirming out from the depths of her chest, which felt as if it were being squeezed in someone’s tight fists, nails digging into her lungs. She turned her back to the window, and stared at Jason’s closed door with her lips parted, a vacant, numb, expression on her face. She felt something trickle onto her lips in rapid succession, and when she lifted her fingers up to her cheek, she discovered that she was crying. 

Sometime amidst her heart-broken haze, y/n took her phone out of her pocket, and called her closest friend, Donna, in hopes to somehow alleviate the weight on her chest.

“Hello?” Her friend responded, voice cloaked with a heavy blanket of sleep, most likely due to the fact that she had been asleep moments before. 

“Donna?” called y/n, sniffling and wiping her eyes with hard press of her hand against her eye socket. The inside of her brain an agonizing creak of hurt and disbelief. Jealousy was an angry, rabies-driven animal swinging from her ribcage like a monkey. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” her friend asks. And she’s not. She’s not okay, because it feels as if there is barbed wire wrapped around her throat, sharp metal spikes digging into the soft of her jugular, impaling her vocal chords and causing her to choke on every syllable. 

She shouldn’t have called Andrew to bring her the second, and third margarita because she’s a sobbing mess. “Donna, h-he, he’s with-with, some oth-” she doesn’t even finish her second before a sob rakes through her. 

Poor, y/n. 

Her emotional distress wasn’t at cause of jealousy, or anger. None of that cliche high school vengence type of thing. But rather, a blue sadness that frosted her heart that burning cold because all of her dreams of being held and kissed by Jason were shattering right before her eyes. Her sweet, caramelized day-dreams melting into nothing. Y/n wouldn’t be able to run to Jason after he scored the winning touchdown at his games, and congratulate him with a big kiss while she drowned in his jacket, scrunching her nose because drips of sweat from Jason’s hair were falling on her cheeks like tears. 

Or sneak kisses in the library while they were meant to be studying. Jason sneaking glances at her and maybe tickling the space above her skirt, her cheeks burning because he was only creeping further and further up the milky skin of her thighs. 

None of that would happen, because clearly, jason wasn’t interested. He was busy snarking the face off some girl who was probably on the cheerleading team (y/n couldn’t tell because she couldn’t see her face).

“Y/n, who? Are you talking about Jason?” Donna asked, yawning.

Turning back to the window, hiking her knee up on the ledge, she gazed out at the active scene. It was only getting wilder out there. There was a pig in the pool, happily swimming towards… apples? There were three apples bobbing on the water’s surface, and the people on the outside cheer the pig onward with his pursuit of the red fruit. It was then that y/n saw, as the pig neared the head of the pool, that Snoop Dog was the dj at the turntables; a cigar and scotch glass in his grip, while the other selected tracks off someone’s Mac. Weird.

Jason doesn’t seem to be entranced by the chaotic events occurring in his own backyard, no. 

Because instead of surveying the perimeter of his backyard, and locks eyes with y/n’s teary ones. 

She swears, the world jerks as it stops it’s rotation around the sun, a record screeches in the back of her head; all thoughts in her brain go silent and her lips are moving in response to whatever Donna said on the other end of the phone call, but there’s no cognitive recognition of it going through her ears and leaving her lips because… because all she knows is Jason’s eyes. 

Jason’s eyes and how they widen when they meet with hers, emerald eyes shining; a lighthouse, a glowing effect caused by flashing party lights. 

Frozen with built-up tension, y/n watched as Jason blinked, broke their steady gaze and pushed the girl off of his lap. His lips were moving, addressing the girl without a glance back at her dejected self (her shoulders slumped and her breasts bounced as she lifted, and dropped her arms in protest). He climbed out of the pool, and y/n could see that he was fully dressed in the clothes from earlier. White shirt and blue jeans now clinging to his skin and dripping a path behind him as he walked off into the dancing crowds. 

Still true to her tragic state, y/n snapped out of her misty-mindstate and tuned into what Donna was saying. 

“...analyzed the situation yourself several times and you’ve said that you sense that there’s something there. What was it you called it? Butterflies on steroids?” 

“But Donna, I see it now. Much clearer. Looking at the girls that he’s always with, s’like, am I an idiot?” She’s sniffling and weeping. 

“Oh no, babes, why would you say that?” Her friend continued to question her, her tone of voice as pained as her friend’s, upset that she isn’t physically present to comfort and walk her friend through what she was feeling. 

“Why? Well, isn’t it clear. Donna, he’s constantly surrounded by all these skinny, tall blondes, and I’m not like that. I’m so stupid, really. How could I ever think that Jason could like me?”

Just then, there’s pressure on her wrist, and the heat of someone’s presence behind her. A part of her knows who it is, and that part of her drops with dreadful embarrassment. The other part of her, surprised because the door was locked and she wasn’t expecting anyone, yelps in surprise and turns around to face her visitor. 

It’s Jason. The only one with the key to this room, and the person who that part of her suspected. 

He’s smiling at her all goose-like, his lips twisted at her all silly- like he’s holding in secret. He looked smeared, his hair dripping and shirt pulled down and stuck to him as if it was vacuum sealed. 

“Oh, y/n,” he cooed at her, taking the phone from her hand and hanging up, tossing it somewhere to which y/n didn’t register, because she was focused on being embarrassed, her jaw falling open in mortification. 

“Jason, I-” She tried to explain, back up whatever he might’ve heard. 

“I like you, y/n. More than you know.” He interrupted her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her up to him, flush against his chest; her hands sandwiched between his muscles and her breastbone. Her front quickly grew wet from the water on Jason’s clothing, her cheekbones covered in dollops of water from the strands of his hair; some even collected on her eyelashes, with how close they were to each other. His breath on her lips, warming the tear-cooled skin.

And, 

He kissed her. 

It was the best feeling that had ever taken over her body; the same butterflies that fluttered wildly like they were doped up on drugs stampeded through her body, manifesting in the pit of her belly and spreading like wildfire through her limbs. Licking up her spine and treading to the tips of her toes. She was alive, buzzing, burning. The only thing that mattered was how gentle Jason’s lips pressed against her own, like he was scared of breaking her. Her hands came to rest on his biceps when she felt the tickle of his thumbs on her hips. He’s the first to pull back, and if there wasn’t a steady thrum from the bass of This Is How We Do It, they’d be able to hear the small suction noise their lips make as they pull apart from each other. 

Y/n cranes her neck to chase after his lips, whining from the loss of contact. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that, for so long, you know?” He told her, setting her back down on the ledge and nosing at her cheek as he does, y/n rubbing up against him dreamily.  

“Why didn’t you?” she asked him, her voice light as a sigh. 

“Because Andrew would beat me to a pulp,” Jason said, laughing. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” He starts to take his shirt off because he feels his skin start to wrinkle and it’s bothering him, shirt peeling off his skin at a torturous pace that ignites a fire on y/n’s cheeks.

“Why’s that?” Not totally aware of what she’s asking because her mind is dizzy with him.

“Because I’d rather get beaten to a pulp, than be away from you any longer.” Jason feels as if all the intoxication fluids and substances in his body have been replaced with a high from a drug called y/n. He’s electrified, a renewed sense of freshness coursing through his veins.

At the mention of him getting beaten up, y/n’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. Jason getting beat up? Impossible. But who would try?

“Wait what?” She said, more attentive this time. Had she heard him correctly? Andrew-

“Andrew, is very protective of you. Fends off any boy who tries to go your way. Can’t tell you how many times he’s scrapped in the locker rooms with someone’s who’s said you’d be a good-” Jason’s short confession is cut off by a knock on the door. He drops his shirt off at the foot of his bed, and he makes quick, confused eye contact with y/n before turning to see who’s at the door.

Jason’s back went taught- jaw clenching in hopes that it isn’t who he presume it might be. Because, god, if it’s Andrew…

His fingers wrap around the door knob, and he sucks in a breath before he twists the metal sphere. Stepping to the left slightly so his body blocked the view of his room, he pulled the knob back just enough so he could stick his head outside.  The outside rumble fills in the room, and y/n pinches her face in distaste, the loud noises irritate her already sensitive state. Clutching her arms around herself, she stands up to toe at Jason’s wet shirt absentmindedly.

At the door, Jason’s frame is frigid. His eyes closed, lips pressing tight into a straight line as his friend says,

“Jason, man. Is everything alright? Is my sister okay?” 

Andrew stood with a red solo cup in his hands, shirtless and drenched in water. He was panting, breathless, and his head jerked from side to side as an attempt to peek past Jason’s head and into the room. Inside, y/n is clueless that her brother is at the door, but nonetheless, she turns around with curiosity, glancing up at the same time that Jason opened the door all the way to allow Andrew in. She smiles weakly at her brother, her eyes and lips feeling heavy from the cry she’d had earlier.

There’s a thick silence in which none of them speaks, Andrew’s looking in between the two with accusing eyes. Taking in Jason’s shirtless appearance, and his sisters disheveled look and tear streaked-face, it wasn’t hard to see why he would automatically assume the worst. It takes his intoxicated mind a few seconds longer than normal to form a conclusion, and take action, but after an awkward moment of glancing with furrowed eyebrows, he steps in between his sister and his friend. A dangerous look shadows over his otherwise friendly features. 

“Jason, did you touch my sister?” Andrew took slow steps towards his friend, his body coiled and ready to pounce. Y/n watched this interaction with confusion, wondering what in the world had taken over her brother.

“Andrew, what are you talking about?” She asked, growing slightly worried when her brother took aggravated steps closer to Jason; his aura confrontational.

“Did he touch you, y/n?” He twisted his neck to take a look over his shoulder at her, jabbing a finger towards Jason, who displayed an alarmed expression. He was worrisome and expectant, prepared for whatever awaited him of Andrew’s protective wrath. He stayed with his mouth shut, determined to not dig himself in a hole and let y/n answer for him. 

“He kissed me, that’s a-”

“He KISSED YOU,” he growled, finally turning away from y/n and pushing Jason up against the wall with his palms against his chest. “You fucking kissed my sister?” 

“Andrew, I-” Jason received a punch from Andrew before he could even complete his attempt to explain. This was no wrestling match- an activity both boys participated in, many times against each other for practice- and rather than the physical performance being for pinning and restraining, it was for harming. Andrew meant to hurt his friend, to prove how he felt about the older boy taking advantage of his sister. He was blinded by rage; fueled by his love for his sister. All that was on his mind then was that he had to stand up for his little y/n, his sweet, book-smart sister, whom Jason had kissed. Jason, his best friend since his first chest hair, was the culprit.

And Jason?

 Jason didn’t try to fight back because he knew it would only make the situation worse than it already was. Given that his best friend was neck deep in a drunken stupor, and he (Jason) could see how he placed himself in an incriminating position, he didn’t bounce back on the hard knock against his jaw.

His head whipped in the direction Andrew’s fist flew, his brain going haywire at the introduction on pain, but the athlete part of him stepping in to turn numb, shouting at the area to shut up shut up shut up shut up. There was no way he’d fight back. He couldn’t, not when y/n was standing in the room. Jason was in deep enough shit as it was, with her thinking he didn’t like her at cause of the girls he hung around. He’d have to straighten that out. Set the record clear, and he didn’t want to have to apologize for punching her brother in the face.

Y/n watched in horror, complete shock as the boy her heart skipped beats for let himself be hurt. When she witnessed the way he recoiled from Andrew, further into the wall with his eyes closed in pain, she stepped ran towards the two boys.

 “Andrew, stop! Stop it, you’re hurting him!” The girl placed an urgent hand on her brother’s bare shoulder, preparing to grip and pull him back just as he retracted with force to pummel into Jason again. That force, concentrated into his bent elbow, hit y/n square on her lip, pushing the sensitive flesh into her teeth, and effectively puncturing it.

She stumbled after her head was tipped backwards by her brothers elbow, her hand coming to cup over her mouth, which pulsed in hot agony. At the sound of her aggravated whimper, frustrated that Andrew hadn’t stopped, Jason jumped to try and come to her aide, finally pushing back against his friend’s hits. His forearms came up to his face, and he tried to scoot out of his way to get to y/n. She straightened herself to attempt to get Andrew to stop, feeling as if her lip was twice it’s normal size already.

“Andrew, quit it!” She yelled, her voice straining over the booming music streaming in from the open door. Y/n got closer to her brother again, and he managed to knock her down with how he kept thrashing. Her tailbone hit against the hard floor, causing a loud, injured yelp to exit her lips and finally drawing her brother’s attention.

As soon as Andrew’s focus wasn’t on him, Jason scuffled over to y/n, his pants making a thick shuff shuff noise. He kneeled down next to her, cradling her chin in his palm and applying pressure on her hand to be able to see her swollen lip. Pushing aside all the pain his body was urging him to pay attention too, he took hold of y/n’s face tenderly, holding eye-contact with her as he moved her chin from side to side. 

“Are you badly hurt?” Y/n whispered to him, her eyes flickering between Jason’s startled ones. His verdant eyes held delicate emotion; concern and worry for the girl who laid her cheek in his palm. Though, after he heard the words ‘are you badly hurt’ leave her split lips, they turned soft with affection. She was clearly hurt, her soft, pink skin of her pliant lips that had been on his own not so long ago, now red and purple, dripping blood on his thumb. 

Andrew observed this intimate exchange with a wondrous look playing in his eyes. Had he missed something? This new development ignited a spark of irritation in his chest, and resulted in a sarcastic smile on his lips. 

“Seriously, what the fuck?” His tone was similar to that of a 5-year-old’s when they were denied their favorite cereal at the market.The grandeur of the situation at hand finally hitting him; his sister and best friend had something going behind his back this entire time. Behind his back and he didn’t even know.

It was an infuriating idea, and ironic, really. He was really going around beating up others who spoke of his sisters in any way near sexual, when the real person he should’ve been looking at was, “Jason, how could you do this shit, man?” 

Jason, all to entranced in checking to see if y/n was hurt, didn’t look up at his friend, but let out a rushed breath through his nose and sucked in his lips ruefully. He wasn’t sorry that he’d kissed y/n, not even a little bit. If anything, he regretted not licking against her honeysuckle lips sooner. He was sorry that he’d ruined Andrew’s night. Jason knows how much his friend was looking forward to this night.

Three years of anticipation, to be exact. It was shitty on his part; inconsiderate. But, who could blame him? The girl in front of him was a literal angel. Eyelashes sticking together with remaining tears, eyes twinkling like she’d plucked stars from the sky and stuffed them in her eye sockets.

Gazing dreamily into them, he shook his head and mouthed ‘i’m so sorry, doll’. Y/n quirked the corner of her lip as if to say ‘what can you do?’. At their silent, telepathic action Andrew lunged at Jason from the back, wrapping his hands around his neck and pulling him down, swinging his legs around his torso so he could plant himself down and continue with his assault on Jason’s face. Y/n momentarily drew back as to not get in the way of the two thrashing boys.

It wasn’t a one sided fight this time because Jason reiterated the physical attack. His hands came up to grasp at Andrew’s shoulders, and he pressed himself into the floor to spring back up with enough force to knock Andrew back into the ground. With their positions now reversed, Jason pinned his friend like how they’d taught him to on the sweat stained mats at school.

The side of his face ached, the corner of his eye slowly squeezing shut as it swelled slowly. Andrew wriggled underneath him, but Jason was good at pinning-- he had trophies to prove it. Jason wasn’t going to hit his best friend. He just wanted to hold him long enough to say-

“Stop, that’s enough!” Y/n shouted. “I want to go home.”

Both boys looked up at her from the ground with confusion spread on their facial features.

“What?”

“Right now?”

They both said at the same time, Jason skittering off of Andrew so he could stand and look at y/n properly. Andrew stood up proudly, throwing a nasty glare at the boy next to him. The girl watched, annoyed, as her brother expressed his current dislike towards his friend, and shook her head. She was suddenly overcome with annoyance and an impatient urge to get out of that house; out of that party.  It struck her then that both of them were about as sober as Snoop Dog himself (and it was known that he isn’t exactly clear-minded because he was outside with a blunt in his hand and another tucked behind his ear).

“You know what? I’m leaving. I’m done. Both of you are drunk anyway. Andrew you’re so... you’re so fucking immature,” she spat those last few words out. Her lips jutting out dramatically as the words took shape on her mouth. Turning around and strutting to pick up the few things she had brought with her, y/n’s pouted. This big mess was all because of her, and now she would have to think of ways to fix it.

On her way out, she only stopped long enough to glance at Jason’s face, all sad and forlorn like a scorned puppy. Casting her eyes downwards as to not make eye contact with her brother, she walked passed them both and hurried out the door, while a part of her urged her to go back and ask every single one of the questions erupting in her brain. Alas, asking analytic and interrogational questions to two teenagers, currently heavily under the influence, was bound to end in disaster. With a mouthed ‘goodbye’ she walked out of the room without looking at her brother.

All that was left of muzzy feeling encapsulating her throat was a faint throb on the tips of her fingers. It had dissolved enough that y/n could navigate her way through the hall, down the staircase, and into the massive crowd without being completely disoriented.  Vibrant lights, bodies covered in perspiration, very loud music, it all immersed her at once, overwhelmingly. 

Jason’s home, a place she knew for it’s quiet halls and amazing smells when his mom was home, had turned into a … trap house. There were acts of sexual nature everywhere, which frankly made y/n’s skin crawl in discomfort and vulnerability. Her innocent self felt violated just from watching all these people do these things.  Girls were bare and writhing to the beat of the music, men and women gyrating their hips onto each other with drinks in hands and rolled brow paper between their lips. It was all so much to take in at a single time.

In front of the fireplace, a group of mangy looking teenage boys were huddled around a ceramic pot, looking inside it and then around the living room to see who was watching them. One of them, wearing a red polo too big for him, held a fist out and began counting, maintaining eye contact with his friends the entire time. When he reached three, he lifted the pot over his head. With a cheer, he heaved it onto the ground where it shattered against the marble tiles, orange chips and mushroom shaped stickers splashing on the ground.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and the room stilled as if one’s pressed pause in a movie. 

And then pressed start.

Every single body in the living room and those on the porch entrance rushed towards that one spot, flattening themselves on the ground with squeals and yells. Those residing on the stairs, rushed passed her, her shoulders getting jostled around so much that she ended up taking a few steps in the process. 

It was then that y/n learned, it was, in fact, not a pot full of mushroom stickers, but a pot full of LSD. Girls and boys were placing the tabs on their tongues, doing lewd gestures in the process. Jason’s living room started to look like a warped ball of ants crawling towards an ice cream drip on the sidewalk, and she watched it all happen with a wide-eyed manner of bewilderment. Was this really what all the parties were about? Everything that she’d been ‘missing’ was just a giant circle of drugged-up, sex-driven boys and girls from her school shamelessly stripping on the first cheer.  

Disgusted, she pivoted on the balls of her feet and set out to exit the house, dodging bodied every which way. It was a struggle, fighting her way against the traffic of human enthusiasm, clustered together with adrenaline coursing through their bodies. She clutched her phone and sweater closer to her chest, the metal edge of the device digging itself an uncomfortable spot in her breastbone. Her toes were stepped on more than once, and her ears were subjected to the blaring hum of Mr. Saxobeat mashed up with another trendy hip-hop song she didn’t recognize. 

With one last heave, she emerged on the doormat, panting and grateful that she was no longer surrounded by suffocating body heat. Holding out her hand from her chest so she could peek at her now sweaty phone, she unlocked it to open up the Uber app. 

Andrew and her had taken a trip into down by bus last year during summer, when he didn’t have a car yet. The excursion was in efforts to excuse themselves from the horrific cage they called home where two fighting parents resided. So consumed in their own problems, they didn’t notice their kids sneak out of the house with change and a credit card in their pockets. Y/n thought Andrew planned on going for a walk, and they did… to the bus station, where they hopped on a buss, got off at a train station, and took the metro to Santa Monica, where they ate hot dogs and splashed on the shore until after the sun went down. 

Scared to walk through the dark street and sit on a cold bench and wait for the train that brought them to the pier, Andrew created an Uber account and punched in their dad’s credit card information. They hopped into a stranger’s car, and he put her head on his shoulder, his temple against her skull, and they fell asleep through the hour and a half ride home,

That same account, was the one that y/n was using. She did, after all, watch over Andrew’s shoulder as he punched in all the information. The girl planned on sneaking it for herself, but the day after her brother messaged her the username and password, and her sneak attempts were for nothing. 

She punched in where she wanted to go, home, and selected the cheapest ride; a Honda Civic that was five minutes away. Walking down the cup-littered walkway, staring at her phone in close observation of the slowly creeping car, y/n wrapped her arms snug around her abdomen to preserve some of her heat in the chilly night.

The drive-way and round-about on Jason’s property was too crowded for her ride to even pull up, and she had to walk further down the street to meet the driver, the music still lucid despite the distance she’d placed.

A red car came to a stop at the curb she stood at, the window rolling down with a distinct buzz as a head leaned over the passenger seat to greet her.

“Uber for y/n?” A woman asked. She wore a woolly sweater and had thick spectacle glasses that distorted her eyes, skin the color of fresh coffee without milk, the sultry tone a beautiful contrast against her pearlescent grey eyes. Smile warm and a  gap between her two front teeth made her seem familiar and dear.

“Uhm, yes, that would be me.” The young girl stammered.  The woman, Yamilet the information read, waved her hand for y/n to enter the car through the passenger door. Sucking in her lips, she tugged the door open and sat down on the seat with a small jump. Yamilet’s car smelled like the color pink; strawberries, cotton candy, bubble gum, apricots, peaches, and the list goes one. The source was the can of air freshener perched in the cup-holder, peeled open and invading y/n’s senses, momentarily relieving her of the tormented feeling in her chest to focus on the mouth-watering scent.  Grateful for the distraction, she took a deep breath and held it in her lungs.

“Jeez this is the party that was on the radio isn’t it? Is Snoop Dogg really in there?”

Snapping her eyes open with nostrils flaring, y/n hummed a reluctant mhm. Screw Andrew and his publicity. He’d really done a damn good job at ‘getting the word out’ for this stupid party of his. Yamilet leaned forward against her steering wheeling and squinted in the direction of Jason’s house. Surely, she would’ve creeped forward as a way to turn around and sneak a peek at the commotion, but even at their place three houses down, cars were parked in the middle of the street and it was impossible for them to go in that direction.

Raising her eyebrows and puckering her lips, the woman continued, “Well,” she sucked on her teeth, “someone’s parents are going to be mad when they get home.” Astray from her usual, collected state of mind, y/n somehow deciphered Yamilet’s comment as the funniest thing, and burst out into a stomach-clenching laugh, eyes tearing up and all. A hysterical kind of laugh that in which she knew nothing but seeing out the tickling feeling, letting it out.

One in which, since that tickling feeling was escaping was escaping her, other feelings snuck past too, and before she knew it, she was crying. Y/n was still laughing, a hand coming to cover her mouth, but tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes, her chuckles converting into the hitch of a sob.  The tickle in her chest then became more of a harrowing tumbleweed of prickling hurt. that rolled itself through the expanse of her ribcage, spokes piercing the soft tissue of her lungs. Tormented, because she’s evidently broken apart her brother and her best friend, and ruined the night they waited for, for years.

Yamilet looked over at her, taken aback at her sudden change of mood, and while backing out of the street she asked, 

“Honey, are you alright?”

Her weeping took encouragement from the inquiry, increasing in intensity and movement. Her shoulders shuddering with every wave of tears that lapped on her cheeks. There was no part of her completely comprehending why she was so torn-up; the exact origin of her anguish unknown.

Breathing raggedly, she responded, “What do you do when loving someone may hurt someone else you love?”

Her question prompted the older woman to reach other to the stereo, and press the off button to quiet the soft music playing in the background. With a long exhale, Yamilet began. 

“Loving will always comes easy with those that are willing to return it. It’s a two way street; no way it’ll work if there’s traffic on one side only. See, love, when done the right way, makes everything… easier than breathing. And the person on the receiving end?” She looks over at the girl who’s crying, her eyes softening before returning to view the road. “Makes it easier. There’s no limits, no problems; a rock that never stops skipping on the surface of a calm lake. If they love you, they won’t swallow you into the water. They’ll help you keep skipping. No matter what skipping means, they won’t hold you back from prospering.  Frankly, whoever you’re talking of hurting for loving someone else, doesn’t truly love you if they can’t see that you’d be happy with another person.”

“My brother loves me. Very much. I know that.” Y/n thinks out loud. 

Yamilet gives a relieved laugh. “Oh, hun, this is your brother we’re talking about? Make him understand. He’ll come around eventually.” At her final comment, the car comes to a stop at the front of y/n’s house. “It’ll all turn out fine, you’ll see.”

Looking at her house, and then at Yamilet, y/n gave a sad smile and a shake of her head. Maybe things would turn out okay. Maybe Andrew would come around, even though he’d given Jason a black eye. 

“Thank you, Yamilet. So much.” Sniffing, she opened the door, and stepped outside. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Trust your gut, okay?” The woman gave her a thumbs up, the gap in her teeth showing when she smiled. 

Y/n nodded and waved, giving the door a firm push to shut it closed. 

“Goodbye.” she said, stepping backwards onto the curb and already turning her body to walk up to her house. 

“Bye, bye.”  The woman said before driving into the front houses’ driveway, reversing, and returning the way she came. 

In a defeated manner, strung out and weary from her past endeavours, y/n sighed and dragged her feet up the path to her door of her home. The porchlights lit a golden-yellow circle on the landing when her motion activated the sensors, and a small click* was heard from the security cameras running when she pulled her key out of her pocket. Holding her breath and moving with extreme caution to not wake her possible sleeping parents, y/n slowly slid the key into its slot, and turned her wrist, the knob moving along with her. 

It creeped open smoothly, with no annoying squeaks and incriminating creaks, to a dark house. Her mother liked to leave the bathroom light on because she often woke to use it through the night, and it wasn’t on. Meaning that her parents were not presently in the house. Also meaning, she didn’t need to be careful anymore. Kicking her shoes off, y/n sniffled loudly and rested her hand on the wall to take her other shoe off, the keys still in her hand making clicking sounds against themselves. Hurriedly, she locked the door behind her and walked up the stairs slowly, her lips dipping into an upset frown at how the night had gone. Thoughts of what awaited her on Monday, or even tomorrow, threatened to invade her already cluttered brain, and she willed them away with a huff. 

It was enough. She’d had it with spoiled events. The girl just wanted to go to sleep and worry about everything when she was awake and rested. 

So she did just that. 

Normally, y/n was anal about her nightly routine. Brushing her teeth (her lip hurt too much for that anyway), washing her face, lathering lotion onto her skin, and the likes. But, she was so burnt out, that as soon as she stepped into her room, she locked the room behind her to make sure no one would bother, including Andrew, and in the dark she found her way to the mattress, falling forward and plunging into sleep. 

She was out like a light, as opposed to the usual hour or more that it takes for her to lull asleep; really, it just goes to say how much the nights events had taken a toll on her. Dreams of un-blackened forest eyes chased away the violent images that festered in the crevices of her skull. Taffy pink lips, that she’d come to know that night, whispered to her that it would all be okay, she was safe.

 She was safe.

*                              *                    *                                  *

Y/n was, in fact, not safe from Andrew’s reach. It seemed like the one day of morning silence she received the day before was a one time occurrence because the next morning, the girl woke to  urgent rap of knuckles against her door. Eyes pinching tight in refusal to open, she groaned and rolled over to stuff her face in her pillow, determined to not get up and face her brother- which, was a complete wonder that he was awake because of the amout of drinking he’d done that night before, not the mention the time he got home. Sometime throughout the night, y/n had managed to get underneath her blankets, and the soft covers rested on her shoulders, protecting her from her brother’s intrusive knocking. 

“Open up, sister,” there was slight… spite in his voice, vocals gruff and y/n could just imagine the way he was pinching the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes shut at cause of his pounding head. “We need to talk.”

Tensing under the covers, y/n was quickly reminded of the intensity of what had happened the; the heavy weight of the issue at hand. Jason had kissed her. He’d kissed her. His lips, her lips, pressed against each other in a vigorous moment of elation. A gentle mingle of skin and tongue; an innocent tease of feeling. 

Then Andrew barged in and beat the hell out of Jason for kissing her. And Jason didn’t fight back. He worried more over her well-being when Andrew shoved her out of the way than when he was punched in the face for smooching his best friend’s little sister.

Y/n sat up and rubbed a hand over her face, instantly regretting it when the friction of her palm against her mouth ignited a numbing throb on her bottom lip, the taste of blood invading her mouth. Hissing, she, too, pinched her eyes closed in agony and took a moment to ground herself before mumbling loud enough for her brother to hear, “Go away, I don’t want to talk to you.”

She really didn’t. Not because she was steaming mad at the boy standing just outside her door, but because she had no idea what she would say to him once they were face to face. Or better yet, what she would do to him for acting the way he had the night before. She hadn’t done anything then, but thinking back on it, fury rose in her, witnessing Jason getting hurt. Y/n wanted nothing but to protect him the way he had her when she most needed him. Give Andrew a taste of his own medicine, and pummel her clenched hands into face. Swing on him when he wasn’t expecting it.

“Y/n, can we please talk about this? I know I….” Andrew’s voice being drowned out by the earbuds she places in her ears, pressing shuffle on her classical music playlist and melting back into her bed sheets in rebellion. She just wanted another break before facing whatever this was.

*                              *                    *                                  *

By some miracle performed by the Pope himself, y/n managed to avoid her brother the entire weekend, leading all the way up to a silent Monday morning.

She woke as she usually does, to the sound of her alarm at 6:30am, eyes fluttering open slowly because sleep clung to her like the stickiest glue. Cold was the first feeling introduced to her body every day, with toes and fingers feeling like icicles no matter how many blankets she used; the freezing temperatures of February nights always snuck in through the cracks of her windows. Eventually, the two fluffy blankets would find their reluctant way off her body, and she would find her way into the restroom that was so conveniently placed in her room. There, she brushed her teeth (with extra caution because the water on her lip already stung) and washed her face (with extra care because she’d gone to sleep without a clean face the night before) and gave herself a long look in  the mirror.

To put it...lightly she looked a mess. And not one of those cliche ‘hot’ messes often seen on tv, no. Her under eyes were dark and a sickly, yellow color, the corners of her eyes an irritated pink- borderline red- color that sunk her eyes deep into her skull. Her hair was flat on one side of her head, and fluffled wildly on the other. Her lip was the worst of all. The right corner of her bottom lip was about a grape-size ball of swollen skin that- by then- she’d grown used to the ticking waves of palpitating discomfort.

When her parents had seen her Sunday evening, they questioned her endlessly of how she had attained such an injury, and she’d struggled to come up with a story. Lamely commenting that someone at the party had fallen and bumped into her on accident. They believed her, and gave her pain medication to help; it did. Comforting her as all parents do when they see their kid hurt, and questioning her no further, they asked her if she wanted leftover, given that they decided not to cook because Andrew was spending the night over at a friends house, and wasn’t coming back until the next day. Unaware of the tension present between the two siblings, y/n simply nodded her head and crept back into her room with a plate of food and a bottle of pain medication. She knocked out right after swallowing a thick tablet of ibuprofen and choking down two slices of pepperoni pizza.

The effects of the medication had completely worn off, and the tender ache has turned into a full-on throbbing marching band stomping on her mouth. Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought it didn’t really look as bad as it felt. It was a grotesque and violent image on her usually smiling face, but she could do with keeping her head down and avoiding gazes. Besides, everyone would most likely be congratulating Jason and Andrew on their smashing party. It would do for a good distraction, given that she couldn’t hide it with make up of anything like that. The girl didn’t know the difference from concealer and foundation.

“Y/n, if you want your mother to drop you off on her way to work, you’re gonna have to hurry up.” Her dad said, knocking on the door and the sound of his work shoe clad feet tapping on the wooden floors as he walks away fading as he walks away. He startled y/n, her reflection jumping as she does, too, and exiting the bathroom to put on the clothes she’d thought about before falling asleep (a strategy that then became a habit when she didn’t lay out her clothes.)

Since she wasn’t exactly in the best mood, she would forgo practicality and settled for comfort. Meaning jeans and a really big hoodie she could pull her arms into during lessons. This hoodie, one of the four she owned, was one of those from the school spirit wear line, with her high school emblem printed across the chest area, and it sponged around her upper-body, the zinch band pinching in at her waist at the start of her jeans, a dark washed, flared number that she had to cut because they were too long for her legs; frayed ends where she cut them raw. Slipping her shoes on and tying her laces, y/n picked up the backpack at the foot of her bed- which hadn’t been opened since Friday afternoon- and walked out the door to meet her mom in the kitchen. Her mother was snapping the cap on her coffee mug, the space above it painted with wisps of smoke from the steaming drink. At the sound of her daughter entering the kitchen, the woman looked up, and grimaced mid-smile at the horrible bruising on her mouth. 

“Oh, y/n,” she sighed. “Are you sure you want to go to school like this?” Her mom asked.

Ever the diligent student, she didn’t miss a beat in answering, “I have to.”

“Okay sweetie. If you say so.” Grabbing her lunch bag, purse, and keys off the counter, y/n’s mom nods towards the door in a ‘let’s go’ motion. “Your breakfast is in that bag, honey.”  She pointed a manicured nail to the paper bag on the counter next to her things, her heels clicking on the wooden floor and her burgundy pencil skirt swishing with each step.

Puckering her lips, and whimpering immediately after, y/n grasped the bag in her hand and followed after her mom, closing the door behind her and walking quickly to enter the passenger seat of the car. The car started when her mom turned the key in ignition, the engine rumbling awake with a smooth hum, and the radio turning on with What’s Love Got To Do With It playing through the speakers. Neither of them spoke as they pulled out of the driveway, and made the familiar route to  school.

They didn’t need to. Both mother and daughter were complacent with silence, and didn’t have the need to fill it with sound, talk, or anything of the sort. They made it all the way to the school parking lot with only y/n’s mother’s CD mixtape playing 80’s hits. Summer of 69 was the song playing when y/n murmured a soft bye to her mom with a little twiddle of the fingers holding the brown paper bag. It contained an egg, ham, and cheese sandwich and a tiny baggie with two white pills inside (she’d opened it after she put on her seat belt).

When her feet were planted firmly on the ground, y/n tilted her chin to the ground and gingerly touched her swollen lip, eyes slightly widening when she felt the size difference. God she hoped no one would look at her. Tire against moist road crunched behind her as the car drove away, and she took her first steps toward the school amongst the parked cars. Walking in between cars, y/n’s eyes frantically searched the student flow entering the school gates for Andrew or… Jason.

She wasn’t really sure if she wanted to not see him. Or see him. The possibilities of how their inevitable meeting could go were endless, but the one that scared her the most was rejection. The whole ‘it was a mistake because I was drunk’ excuse that would erase everything that happened. He had said that he’d he liked her more than she knew, and that he had been waiting so long to kiss her, but where was always what if? One could never really know with a drunk high school boy, especially one’s brother’s best friend. 

There was more evidence that proved whatever this was, it was true. That Jason did like her, and things would end well but, fucking hell her mind was going overdrive with possibilities. Like a supercomputer that showed all the numbers to pi. The simple thought of Jason reciprocating any sort of feeling that wasn’t platonic drove her mad. For years she’d suppressed what she dubbed childish fantasies, obscene obsession, but… now there was a possibility that they weren’t fantasies? She swears, this is what it felt like when Thomas Edison’s light bulb light on the 1,001 try.

As she stepped foot into the gates of school, the warning bell rang a shrill reminder for students to get to class that increased the pace of traffic. Some people passed others in fear of being late, groups moved together in a quick fashion, and she made a beeline to get to class, passing the two girls in front of her; head down, eyes flicking upwards every once in a while. The hand that wasn’t holding the brown paper bag reached up to tug hair towards the front of her face, closing in on the sides of her face and hiding attention from her lip. Shouldering her way past students in the halls, she kept her head low, tucked into her shoulders, and her eyes a constant flick from the ground and in front her to make sure she wouldn't bump into anything. Like that, she successfully made her way to World history, where the lights were always off because the teacher gave them worksheets with questions to whatever movie was showing on the projector.

As usual the lights were off upon first walking in, and there was a stack of papers from which she was supposed to grab on her way to her desk. The teacher, Mr. Minks, greeted her with an indirect ‘good morning’ when he sensed another student come in, not even noticing the way she creased the sheet in her rush to grab it, and slammed herself into a seat all the way at the back to avoid being seen by any of the other students that would walk in.

She would’ve tucked her hands into her sweater and sunk low into her seat to watch the movie, but the brown bag her mother had prepared for her was still heavy with food and the teacher allowed eating in class. So, after she set the single sheet of paper on the wooden desk top, she placed the brown bad next to it, and slung her school bag onto the floor to rest against the seat legs, the back of her shoe brushing against it as she took her seat.

Uncurling the edges of the paper bag, y/n reached in and pulled out the aluminum covered sandwich, unwrapping it and taking an angry bite because,

“Dude, did you hear about Jason’s party? Snoop Dogg was there! I know someone who said that…” Two guys that just walked into class were talking animatedly about the very thing y/n was trying to stay away from.

Rolling her eyes to herself, she inwardly groaned at their topic of conversation. She wasn’t going to get away from this was she? That stupid party had become an annoying weed that was impossible to pluck from the ground. Peeved, she took a bite out of her sandwich at the same time her teacher started talking. A few of her classmates turned to look at her at the sound of the foil crinkling, and the faint smell of egg that wafted off of her food, but she didn’t pay them a glance. 

“Good morning guys and gals, I see some of your heads are still stuck on pillows, eh?” The older man who always wore canvas belts and short sleeves- no matter the temperature- chuckled at his subjects. “Well, today we will be watching a film on war strategies during World War 1, and I’ve set out the questions you’ll need to turn in by the end of the period, so if you haven’t got one please, come and get one.” He moved to sit on the rolling chair behind the table at the front of the desk. With a simple click of his mouse, the sound of trumpets and band music filtered through the speakers, and the screen flashed black and white images taken during the war. 

Covering her mouth as she spoke, careful to not press against her swollen lump, y/n leaned to the guy next to her and whispered, “Kev, spot me the answers, yeah?”

Kevin, a quiet boy who was also in her English class, nodded and gave her a thumbs up, his eyes never leaving the screen because- as he’d told y/n before- history was his favorite subject. 

Wolfing down the rest of her food with a hungry rush (she never really realized how hungry she was in the mornings until she was sitting in class with her hand digging into whatever her mom had prepared for her) she let saliva pool underneath her tongue, and placed the pill in her mouth, swallowing twice to get it down since she hadn’t grabbed a water.

The girl wiped her hands on her jeans with pats on the sides of her thighs; opposite hand tugging one of her sleeves forward so she could pull her arm in. Her cool fingers brushed against the bare skin of her stomach, the temperature difference making her suck in a breath to avoid contact as she did the same with the other hand. Accidentally, she did the same with her other hand and rose goosebumps on the sides of her ribs.

She cursed softly at the chilling feeling; her fingers were really cold.

On the screen (which was really just the whiteboard surface mounted on the wall) and old man was talking about his war memories, and how the ground shook with the drop of bombs. Before she could prepare for it, an explicit image of dead bodies piled on the battlefield flashed on the screen, and she took that as the signal to place her head on her desk, cheek flat on the smooth surface with Kevin’s side profile being the only thing she could see. He turned to snicker at her for her careless antics, and returned his gaze to the screen, his smile dropping as his focus was turned on something more serious. He hadn’t seen her lip because everything below her nose was tucked into the head hole of her hoodie, safe from curious stares. 

Her eyes fell closed, but she didn’t succumb to sleep. 

Y/n could never sleep in class. Ever. She could try as hard as she could, but all she managed to do was block out the noise and rest her eyes. No dreams or disorientation when she opened her lids again. Funny enough, she envied those who got into trouble for dozing off in class, wishing that she could be one to just sleep where she wanted to.

Like then, y/n wanted nothing more than to pick up where she left off before her alarm woke her instead of listening to stories about war and detailed descriptions of bloody scenes with limbless bodies. But, there she was, with her eyes closed and brain open, aware of everything happening around her, worried she might get into trouble because it was school, y/n! get up!

It didn’t matter. Mr. Minks didn’t care, and even if he did, he liked her too much to call her out.

Students chattered quietly through the movie and every whisper had to do with the juicy details of the party from Saturday. Jason and Andrew jumped off the roof and into the bouncy house, LSD was stolen from the local dealers and now someone was getting chased after, Maddie from the cheer team left with a pet pic, and Juliet woke up with no hair. At the last bit of information, y/n puffed air out of her nose. Juliet must’ve woken up fuming, she thought. Her hair was so pretty.

Throughout the whole class, she kept her eyes shut tightly, willing herself to go to sleep- but she never did. Eventually, Kevin leaned over and poked her on the forehead with the end of his pencil, slipping his paper on the end of her desk as her eyes opened up again.

“Made them short so he won’t suspect if we copy.” He said, pulling his phone out and leaning back into his seat. “Turn them in when you’re done, yeah? Please?”

“Mhm, thank you. Lemme borrow your pencil,” She reached over and took the pencil he poked her with before he could answer, only because she knew he wouldn’t say no.

True to his word, he’d made his responses in bullet form, start with ‘to get to...’ or ‘a trench...’. She copied them word for word, knowing that the teacher was so caught up behind work that he wouldn’t even read the answers, just check for completion. Her writing became more of a slanted cursive as she rushed to fill inn her paper, not even consuming the words she was writing down (not that she wanted to anyway, she hated war), and as she was writing the last answer down on the paper, the bell signaling that the period was over, rang.

She wrote her name down in a quick scribble, giving Kevin his pencil pack and stacking the two papers on top of each other. Kevin walked away after she gave him his pencil back. She picked up her backpack from the floor and the empty brown bag to chuck in the trash by the door. After slinging one strap over her shoulder, she picked up the two sheets she had set down and walked to the front of the class, where she placed the worksheets on a growing stack next to the teachers desk.

Her next class was a mix of study period and teachers visitant to the librarian. She spent the period in the library, shelving books when it was needed, or doing her homework when she had nothing to. Her to-do list was given to her as o as she walked through the door, as Ms. Wilson had a whiteboard for each class of the day and what their agenda consisted of. The short walk from the history building to the one next over, consisted of y/n fidgeting with the strands of her hair trying to both, block her mouth with her hand and hair. With how fast she was walking, she wasn’t really giving any passing strangers time to focus on her face, so there was no reason to worry, but the girl was paranoid, and she only relaxed after she heard the library doors shut behind her. A note on the doors from Ms. Wilson read that she would be in a meeting during the first and second period, and to not forget to sign in on the attendance sheet.

Once again taking off her backpack and leaving it on the check out counter, she walked through the hip-high swinging doors to the librarians office to get her assignment from the hanging whiteboards. There was a clipboard pinned on the door frame with a pen hanging from a string, where y/n checked off the box next to her name, confirming she was present that day. Running a finger along the wall all the way down to the fourth (2nd to last) mini-whiteboard, she could see it was shelving whatever was in the return carts from Friday. In Ms. Wilson’s curly-cue writing, the board read, ‘shelf any remaining books from the return carts, and begin cataloging any new arrivals!’ Shrugging, y/n walked out of the tiny-nearly empty- room and out to the front of the library, rounding the counter of the counter and being met with two, heavily loaded, shelving carts.

Her eyes widened at the sight. Whoever was in the period before her clearly hadn’t done anything. Y/n thought the shelving carts would be not even half full, empty, and she’d be able to get to cataloging the new books. If she wanted to even grow hope for touching the new book that day, she’d really have to run when shelving books.

Grasping the handles of the first cart, she leaned back,using all of her body weight to get the cart moving. Once the wheel started moving, she moved it so she was pushing it instead of pulling, and walked it to the center of the shelves. When it was still, she grabbed an armful of books, and set of to shelf them. Momentarily, she would stop and pause to look at the cover, acknowledging whether the novel was good read or not. If it looked interesting, she’d make a mental note of the author so she could check it out later.

Y/n always got a little lost in her work- driving herself to the bone to finish whatever task she set out to do. It really took a toll on her pride and work ethic if she didn’t.

So, it wasn’t a surprise that when she was halfway done with the last cart, and the library doors clicked open, she didn’t hear them- too emerged in sliding A Separate Peace onto the shelf.

Or, that when the movement of a body walking in the clear of the library, and down the isle she was in didn’t bother her. The person got close (five steps away to be exact) and it took her a while to take notice.

Until y/n looked up, Jason stood, dumbfounded, watching the girl moved quickly and diligently, the speech he had prepared dead on his dry tongue.  He wasn’t sure how, even though her face was bruised and scratched from the serious of unfortunate events that had happened on Saturday, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She took his breath, and gave him life, all at the same time. 

Especially, god, especially, when she looked up, and her lips parted in shock. Jason doesn’t know why it makes his stomach flip like he’s just been dropped from the tallest building.

“Jason,” she said, his name leaving her lips like gasp.

“Hi,” He smiles at her. He can’t help it. For as much as he was nervous, the sound of his name coming from her always made his heart skip a beat. Jason tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, the pockets of his Letterman jacket not available because he was wearing a red cotton sweater. His curls framed his face messily, and y/n knew just by looking at his hair that he was nervous because they weren’t in their usual, slicked back position, but resting in a parted sea.

“What are you...” Her eyebrows dipped and her head tilted. “...doing here?”

Jason’s mouth opens, and he has to look away from her burning gaze and down at his feet. “I came to speak to you.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. She thinks about walking past him, and going back to the cart to continue shelving books as he speaks, but she can’t get her feet to move. Jason’s head perked up at the sound of her lilted voice, confidence suddenly surging through him because, correct him if he’s wrong, he’d say y/n sounded pleased.

With a deep breath, he said, “Y/n, what happened at the party wasn’t a mistake. I don’t regret anything that happened, only that you got hurt and didn’t stay so we could talk things out.”

“It wasn’t?” She asked, again, surprised and pleased, her eyebrows moving from dipped to lifted, and the tips coming to rest on her upper lip, remembering.

He gives her a disbelieving look. “Of course it wasn’t. Did you think I was kidding you?” He sounds hurt at the fact that she would make an assumption like that.

“Well, Jason you’re seen with all these girls, I-” She stops, suddenly becoming emotional; her throat consumed with the familiar choking that came before tears. She had to take a moment to move her eyes off his, looking at the ground and even then the tears couldn’t be stopped. Embarrassed, she turned her back to him and sniffled, wiping madly underneath her eyes.

“Oh sweetness, no.” Jason cooed, striding over to her and gently grasping her sweater covered biceps to turn her around. She pliantly moved under his direction, ending up with her forearms against his chest as she wiped underneath her eyes. His fingertips nudged her hands away, thumbs replacing her fingers.

“Jason, you have to understand.” She looked up to him with wide eyes, her words coming out in a panicked, wet rant. Her heart was racing and her logic missing. “I don’t think, I could survive, getting my heart broken by you.”

Jason’s heart jumped, and stilled. His mind moved faster than a roadrunner’s legs could. He didn’t know what to say because he wanted to confess so many things at once. She was all he could think about, she was all he wanted, she was all there was for him.

He let his heart speak for him

Eyes shutting, tenderness overcoming him, he said, “Y/n, if anyone here is gonna get hurt,” His eyes open, full of a deep sincerity and sucks y/n in like a Venus flytrap’s honey does a mosquito, “it’s going to be me. Because, I don’t think, I’ll ever be able to stay away from you again.”

“Do you really mean that?” she breathes, her voice cracking and blanking on certain syllables with how light it was.

His hand cradles the side of her face with his thumb tracing softly on the upper portion of her lip, his forehead falling to rest on her own in desperation of not being able to kiss her; he didn’t want to hurt her. “More that I’ve ever meant anything else.”

“Go on a date with me y/n, let me show you how much I want you.” He said, his eyes never leaving hers.  Y/n’s mind became an annoying pop-up ad of yes yes yes.

“Okay.” She stated, titling her head into his palm that continued to rub soothing circles into her cheek.

He laughed; a giddy skip of his voice that showed just how elated he was. “Okay? Is that a yes, baby?”

“Yes, it’s a yes.” she giggled, hiding her face in Jason’s neck. She rubbed the tip of her nose into the side of his throat.

Jason wrapped both of his arms around her waist, and pulled her in tight for a hug, his face pressing into the side of her head and into her hair.

“But, what about Andrew? He hurt you, and he was so angry on Sat-” she started, her voice muffled since it was still partly hidden in Jason’s shoulder.

“He spent the night over at mine’s yesterday, and we talked things out. He hasn’t spoken to you yet?” Jason pulled back to look down at her, confused.

Y/n shook her head and pulled in her lips, yelping at the pain that came with the pressure. Jason’s face drops, his hands moving to immediately cup the sides of her face.

“I’m still so angry at him for hurting you.” He mumbles. “What can I do, baby? Tell me?”

Without missing a beat she said: “Give me a kiss.”

Jason smiles at her, blinking at her in amazement. “Whatever you want.”

He tilts her head back so he can have better access to her mouth, his thumbs gently digging into her jaw as he moves her. Y/n’s eyes flutter closed as his head dips forward with caution, hot air fanning over her mouth the closer his mouth gets. And then, ever so gently, he ghosts a feather light kiss on the upper portion of her lips, scared to touch her bottom one. At the feeling of his skin touching her own, her knees wobble and she’s positive that soon she’d fall into a puddle of love-sick warmth.

A small, desperate whimper sounds deep in her chest, upset that she hadn’t gotten more. Of course, she would never voice her thoughts.

“Sorry, sweetness. I don’t want to hurt you.” He mumbles, his lips moving to rub back and forth on her forehead.

They stand like that for a moment, his hands on her face, her palms on his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the sweater. Both are going crazy in their own minds, finally freed but having no idea how to act without the barriers that were there before. Y/n wants badly to know what’s okay to do now, and Jason wants to know what she’s thinking. He figures all will come with time, that there was so much to learn from each other.

And the first step to that would be their pending date.

“Y/n?”

“Mmm?” Her eyes fluttered open slowly, having closed at their own accord.

“As much as I’d love to stay here with you, I’ve got to get back to class.” He spoke into her hair. His hands moving off her face and down to her waist. “I’ll see you between passing, okay I can take you home...” He added quickly “...if you want.”

“I’d like that.” She pulled her face out of his neck, and quirked her lips, dazed.

“Good,” he smiled, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’d like that, too.”

Jason pressed one last kiss to her temple, and mouthed a goodbye on the corner of her lip, y/n’s stomach tripping over itself at the sensation. Finally separating his body from hers, he reached to tuck her hair behind her ears, and with a wink he walked away.

Y/n watched him walk away, and pass through the doors with only one thought on her mind.

She couldn’t believe Jason had asked her on a date.

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there’s gonna be a part 3!

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@moonchildstyles i tried my best to make this un-horny so you wouldn’t have to pay

[kooala]

싸움

so this is a ‘Yoongi slapping a guy across the face’ request from anon a couple of days back! I’m really not that aquainted with writing things like that so I’m sorry if it’s not to your liking! But I hope you enjoy it! x

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Wordcount: 2k

Genre: college!AU, boyfriend!Yoongi, fighting!Yoongi (not major) & fluff

Warning: Strong language(!), violence, nudity

Yoongi wasn’t the guy to just randomly loose his temper but he was not going to let someone toy around with him, let alone watch them make fun of his friend without doing something about it.

MASTER

Your boyfriend Yoongi was supposed to be here about twenty minutes ago so the two of you could grab some food and he was going to stay over and although this guy always did whatever he felt like doing anyway, he usually always told you when he was going to be late or not going to make it.

Sitting in your dorm you checked your phone a couple of times but after not hearing anything for another twenty minutes, you got mad.

You[8:22pm]: Are you going to come or not??

You[8:47pm]: Yoongi?!

Yoongi had always known that something like tonight was going to happen sooner or later. Jimin may not have been his closest friend, but they had been hanging out a lot recently. Just like himself, Jimin came to America for the same reason - to study arts. They had met when the small group of Korean students from uni had brought him along to make some new friends and the two of you had clicked, talking about music although Jimin was on a dance scholarship.

A lot of people seemed to have a problem with Jimin equally as much as they seemed to be amazed by his talent and frankly, his looks. He had gotten loads of hate for being a dancer which seemed ridiculous considering the school of arts had a dance academy but some people seemed to dislike it.

Both of them had talked about it a couple of times and although Yoongi himself wasn’t a big fan of dancing or expressing his feelings in any shape or form that could be judged, he admired Jimin for his determination.

He waited outside for him after Jimin’s audition, his beanie pulled into his face, hands in his coat pockets and once his friend jumped down the steps he smiled at him.

“You did well in there, kid.”, he congratulated him and Jimin nodded proudly and followed Yoongi walking down the street together. It had meant a lot to Jimin that Yoongi watched his audition and he knew Jimin would’ve done the same if it was him.

“I think you were one of the best, honestly. Would surprise me if you wouldn’t get in.”, Yoongi said while walking back to the dorms on campus, Jimin shrugging it off shyly.

The calls from across the park started getting louder and Yoongi came to a halt, looking over to the guys that seemed to yell over to them.

“Just go, it’s whatever.” Jimin kept walking pulling Yoongi’s sleeve a bit, clearly hearing the insulting yells they were throwing in his direction but he didn’t know it any different. No one had ever taken his wishes to be a dancer seriously and he had always fought for it. Arguing with drunk idiots on a Friday night while walking home from an audition didn’t seem like the way to start the weekend.

“No, no. I want to hear what they’re saying.” Yoongi gestured Jimin to stop walking and turned to the two boys sitting on the benches, mocking ballet dancing towards Jimin.

“Is there a problem?”, Yoongi asked loudly, walking over slowly and both of them seemed to mock his question, acting as if they were scared by his statement but Yoongi didn’t stop, he slowly and calmly kept walking over, ignoring Jimin’s calls to stop.

“Look at you, dickhead.”, the boys started laughing. “ Chinese Ching-Chong.”, he pulled the corners of his eyes out to make them look Asian and Yoongi frowned.

“I’m Korean not Chinese you dumbfuck. Why are you bothering him.”, he nodded over to Jimin after coming to a stop in front of the guys. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business little man?” The taller one stood up off the bank now, looking down to Yoongi in a threatening gesture while Yoongi stayed calm and collected which seemed to annoy them even more.

“Little man?” Yongi started getting really pissed at them. ”I want you to stop bothering him.”, he said again, shrugging casually as if they were having a chill conversation about the weather, trying his hardest to stay calm.

“I said..”, he pushed Yoongi’s chest back, making him stumble back a few steps. “Mind your own business, midget.”

Yoongi took a deep breath and out of the blue, he lifted his fist, smacking the guy that just pushed him right in the jaw making the crunching noise audible for his friend to hear.

His hand started pulsing and hurting immediately but he was not going to be pushed around by a racist. “Stay the fuck away from him and me.”, Yoongi persisted again and although he ducked the first punch from the other douchebag, the second one hit him right on his lip, making him stumble back a couple of steps.

Punching out one more time, hitting him back into his stomach, making him bend over to the point he sounded like he was about to throw up, Yoongi looked at them pissed.

“Stay away or the midget is going to cut your dick off.” He left the threat hanging in the air as he made his way back to Jimin who just stood there shocked and frozen.

“Why would you do that?”, he said shocked and looked at the cut on Yoongi’s lower lip, trying to find a tissue as they started walking back to the dorms in silence.

“I didn’t, he pushed me and I’m not having it.”, he replied, dabbing his lip with the back of his hand as Jimin failed to find something he could put on Yoongi’s lip.

The knock on the door made you get up mad.

“You better have a good fucking reason to leave me waiting for an hou-”, you started nagging but the words got stuck in your throat as soon as you opened the door, seeing your boyfriend’s red chin with the gushing lip.

“What the fuck Yoongi?!”, you asked panicked and looked to Jimin standing behind him.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I’m late.”, he mumbled, bending into kiss your lips gently, making sure he wouldn’t get any blood on you. You closed the door behind both of them as they walked into the dorm and couldn’t help but look at Yoongi still shocked.

“I’m fine babe, I promise. Two assholes started provoking and cursing at us, especially Jimin and I just walked over to tell them to stop and they started pushing me.”, he started to explain as all of you squeezed into the bathroom together and you motioned Yoongi to sit down on the edge of the bathtub.

“You don’t have to box anyone.”, you said quietly, getting a handtowel damp to pat over his cheek and lip slowly.

“Yea I did. They were mocking Jimin and they had been for a while. They also called me a midget and we all know I’m sensitive about that topic.”, he tried to crack a dry joke and you couldn’t help but smirk, looking at him scolding though.

“I’m sorry, won’t do it again.”, he mumbled subdued.

When Jimin returned with some ice in a towel to put on Yoongi’s hand, he announced that he had to leave. “Guys. I’m sorry but I have to head back. Text me okay? I want to know if you’re okay. And... thank you for doing this. I really appreciate you sticking up for me.”, Jimin mumbled and Yoongi nodded, smiling over to him.

“Anytime.”

The dorm turned quiet and you kept trying to get the blood off his chin and neck, rubbing his skin a little bit before getting some frozen peas out of the freezer, wrapping it in a towel and gave it to him to press on his lips.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you for being late I should’ve known you had a good reason.”, you mumbled embarrassed and he shrugged it off.

“You couldn’t have known, I’m sorry for worrying you.” He reached out, stroking his thumb over your lip once and you smiled at him although it hurt to see him this way.

“You look kind of sexy all roughed up.”, you mumbled and he rose an eyebrow.

“Yea? You into tough, bad boy Yoongi?”, he said all dirty, making you feel like you were about to gag.

“Oh my god don’t ever do that again.” Both of you started laughing and you seemed so much more at ease, realizing that he was still able to crack some jokes.

“How about we leave it with the excitement for the weekend and we just stay in, hm? We can watch some Netflix and you can get some rest, babe.” He nodded and both of you stayed in the bathroom quietly for a little longer until he got up to check himself out in the mirror.

“I’ll shower real quick okay? Why don’t you look for a movie and I’ll join you in a moment.” His kiss was careful because his face hurt and you were sure not to press your lips against his too heavily.

“Sounds good.”

Being snuggled up in your blanket you couldn’t focus on the movies, scrolling through the suggestions mindlessly but your head was still trying to grasp what just happened. Yoongi wasn’t the guy to flip his temper like this out of nowhere so they must’ve really pushed him to do that. Thinking about his face and being worried about him getting expelled, your thoughts started running wild.

“I need to leave some shower gel here, I smell like flowers.”, he mumbled as he walked in with a towel around his waist and pulled open one of your drawers to get some briefs out. Watching him drop the towel to get changed you lost your train of thought.

“Nothing wrong with flowers.”, you mumble watching him and he chuckled as he turned around to see your eyes fixated on the spot his butt was two minutes ago.

“It’s not strong it smells like fresh out of the shower, you know I hate gross smelling shower stuff.”, you try to safe yourself from being caught checking out the snack that was Yoongi and he crawled over your sheets, pushing your laptop away before laying on top of you over the blanket.

“Don’t try and safe yourself, lady.”, he mumbled, kissing you softly.

“You’re still all wet... ”, you stated after putting your hands on his back and slipping over the small water drops covering his soft skin. He only chuckled and ruffled his wet wavy hair in your face, forcing you to turn your head to the side.

Giving you one more kiss he got up to leave again to blow dry his hair and when he came back a couple of minutes later, he had put on some sweats and a shirt. He pulled up the covers next to you to snuggle under, laying down although you were almost sitting in bed next to him.

“Tired?”, you mumbled and started running your fingers through his hair slowly, playing with a couple of strands, twisting them around your fingers in thoughts as he nodded, turning to his side and hugging in your hip. He rested his cheek on your stomach and both of you started watching the movie.

Tracing your fingers over his head gently and running your fingers through the soft silky hair over and over again you eventually felt him breathing heavier, falling asleep on your side.

You slid your hand into the collar of his shirt, stroking your hand over the silky, hot skin on his back slowly to feel and touch him. Nights like these were your favorite. Nothing made you happier than just existing with him by your side, just relaxing and knowing he was right there next to you.

You’d have to deal with the consequences of what that fight may have caused tomorrow, but for now, it was only you and him.

leave some love if you enjoyed reading the drabble/oneshot and make sure to check out my master! Thanks guys ✨

[cloudgrazer]

Where the Sea Meets the Land {Keith x fem!Reader}

Chapter 2

Summanry: Summary: A young royal merman if drawn to the surface world. He longs to be able to learn about the unknowns he sees from his sea-rock perch. With his four friends he travels to the surface and sees a young woman that he is drawn to. With the help of a sea witch, the prince may finally meet the young woman and travel into the village he has longed to visit.

Words: 2506

Warnings: Nudity

[Y/N] walked along the sandy beach letting her bare feet mould into the grains. It was pleasantly hot and mixed with the salty breeze [Y/N] was in pure bliss. She paused for a moment and bent over to uncover a partially buried shell. She picked it up and rolled it in between her fingers admiring it. After deeming it worth she placed it into the basket hanging on her arm and continued on her way.

This was a common activity of hers. She enjoyed the softness of the sand between her toes and the sharp bursts in the soles of her feet when she stepped on a sharp rock in the rougher spots of the beach. She had a set path. She began on the beachfront closest to the village, then she wrapped herself around the small bay, in front of her home and around the small piece of land the curled into the back. From here she would wade along the shore until she came upon her own secret place.

Behind the tiny forest of her home, on the other side of the jut of land she inhabited, was a natural lagoon. The sandy beach gave way to a barrier island that calmed the waters between the grouping of trees and the sea. There were only two openings into the lagoon by the sea. They were only wide enough the let a small rowboat through and were sheltered by swooping branches. The barrier island was alive with weeping willows, tall grasses, bushes and flowers of such bright colours. Sometimes [Y/N] would take her small two-person rowboat and sail to the island to have a nap.

The lagoon waters were the colour of lapis lazuli and teal. Lily pads rested on the surface and seaweed tickled her feet on the lagoon floor. Fish of many sizes swam in the gentle current living in harmony with the birds in the trees. Starfish and barnacles stuck to the bottom of the scarce larger rocks found in the lagoon. Crabs and shrimp, ducks and pelicans and so many other forms of wildlife resided in the beautiful spans of water. It was perfect. No one from the village ventured around her home and the land surrounding it. They only took the roads and paths that led away or around so the lagoon remained her secret.

[Y/N] walked casually along the beach, in no hurry. The goods from the village were properly stored and her garden had been attended to. The day was hers to enjoy. She added another shell to her collection. It was an opened oyster, probably dropped by one of the many birds who fed in the bay. She would add it to her garden later. She paused and turned her head to the sky, eyes closed. Inhaling deep she let a smile form across her lips. She was halfway between her home and her starting point. She decided to take a rest and enjoy the sound of the waves lapping against the stones and shore.

[Y/N]’s life was simple. And she enjoyed it. When she was younger she longed for adventure, longed to see the unknown. Her father was a sailor, who was often away fishing for the village when she was younger. When he came home, he would share stories of his adventures on the sea with her mother and her. As a child her eyes would light up with excitement, her mind rapidly building adventure upon adventure she imagined she would do when she was older. That ended the day she was told her father would never returning home from the sea again. She remembered her mother’s weeping, her grandmother consoling her. On that day all her longing for adventure ended as far as travelling to the village and lagoon. That was good enough for her, or so her mother had drilled into her. But now her mother and grandmother had also left her. They followed each other into death during her seventeenth year, three years ago.

[Y/N] rested until the rays of the sun heated her thoroughly. Collecting her skirt and basket into one hand [Y/N] continued her way along the beach, letting memories of the past fade.

The band of merfolk broke the water just as the lone girl sat up from her break. The five stared at the village and let their eyes dart around the many houses and buildings. Smoke drifted into the cloudless sky, the smell of cooking food drifted across the breeze.

“Oh, that smells good.”

“Yeah, that does smell pretty amazing. I wonder what it is? Oh look! There’s that black and white thing!” the mermaid exclaimed.

Keith flipped his tail swimming closer to the shore. Merfolk had better eyesight than those on the land. It allowed them to see in the murky, dark waters and even at a greater distance above the sea in the open air. Keith’s eyes darted around quickly, taking in as much as he could. He could see the villagers moving on their two limbs, feet? He could see some of the strange creatures that moved on four, led by the humans. Woman moved around in colourful clothing that seemed so heavy to the prince. The men laughed and yelled with great vigor. He wanted to know what they were saying.

“Lance, where are you going?”

Shiro’s voice drew the prince away from his observing and towards his blue friend.

“There’s a human girl over there!” Lance waved his arm to his right, pointing at the small figure walking along the beach. He had already begun to swim towards her.

“You can’t go near her! She will see you! She will see us!” Hunk panicked as Lance ignored him and dived under the waves.

“Come on. We have to follow him to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.” The eldest merman dived under, trusting his friends to follow.

Keith hesitated. What was so great about some human girl?

Lance broke through just on the other side of some rocks that rested above the waterline. He was close enough to be able to see her features. A grin planted itself on his face. His friends arrived not long after him and huddled around the rocks. Keith was the last on to join them but instead of turning to look at the girl he kept his eyes on the village.

“Guys she is such a babe!”

Hunk, Pidge and Shiro all craned their necks over or around the rocks to get a look at the human female. She was wearing a long light blue skirt that was tucked into a beige, baggy shirt. On her arm was a basket that she seemed to be filling with shells from the beach. Her skirt was bunched into her hand, allowing the merfolk to be able to see her long lower limbs. She was young, not appearing any older than the friends. Her hair was long, resting in the middle of her back and flowed over her shoulders when she bent over. Her hands were slender but strong, graceful in their movements. Her face was soft but not in a childlike manner. Her lips were full and pouty; her eyes alight in her search. The merfolk admired her. None of them had seen a human so up close before.

They watch as she moved her strange limbs. What did the elder merfolk call them, legs? They bent oddly as she moved and stooped to the beach.

“She is pretty,” Hunk offered following her with his eyes.

Pidge squirmed between her friends, “I wonder how they move with those legs. They look so weird.”

Shiro tilted his head to the side as he observed her. She was quite beautiful. He grabbed Lance’s shoulder before the boy could push his body further out of the water. While he may have allowed them to watch the girl, he wasn’t about to allow any of them to be seen.

“Oh man, I want to get closer!”

“No. We can’t chance it.”

“Do you think she would like me? I mean, of course I am amazing, what with my handsome good looks and charming personality how could she not?”

They all rolled their eyes.

“Why can’t we talk to her?”

“Uhm because she’s dangerous?!”

“She doesn’t look that dangerous Hunk.”

“Either way, it is better safe than sorry. We should be leaving anyways. Keith, come on.”

Shiro pulled Keith away from his daydreaming. He seemed to do that a lot. The prince turned to answer his friend when his eyes landed on the girl for the first time. He paused, words forgotten on his tongue. His eyes were glued to the girl wandering along the beach. She was the most gorgeous female he had ever laid eyes upon. His breath caught in his throat. It felt suddenly so dry. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He wasn’t one to chase after girls. Even at royal gatherings with the eligible ladies of the court surrounding him not one ever drew him in for a second glance. It didn’t help that he never openly expressed his emotions. His friends and mother had learned to read the subtle ways he expressed himself. But why was she so intriguing?

He wanted to watch more of her. Shaking Shiro’s hand off he said, “I want to stay a little bit longer and watch the village. You guys go back without me.”

Shiro raised a dark eyebrow silently questioning Keith.

The prince rolled his eyes, “I just want to stay for a bit. I know how to stay hidden.”

“Okay, but not too long. People will start to question where you are.”

Keith nodded in reply waiting for them to leave.

Shiro turned and ushered the others below the surface. As they descended Keith could hear Lance complaining about why he couldn’t also stay to watch the pretty girl. With them gone, he turned back towards the human girl. He watched as she continued her way along the beach. Her gentle hum reaching his ears. He submerged under the waves until only his eyes rested above the water. He felt odd watching her so closely, but he just couldn’t stop.

She appeared to finish collection shells from the beach and turned towards the lone house that rested on this side of the bay. She placed her basket down before the front door and returned to walking along the shoreline. Keith figured the home must have been hers. He followed as she made her way around the bend in the land. She approached the hanging branches of a large tree, pushed them aside and disappeared from his view.

Keith cautiously moved closer. He wasn’t usually so bold, but he was drawn to her. He saw that there was an opening between two pieces of land. He dived and swam though, hoping he could find her. He emerged inside a large lagoon and quickly found a rock to hide behind. He scolded himself for acting like this. He was a prince. He shouldn’t act in such a way.

Keith stopped his mental berating. He had found her on the mainland side of the lagoon. She pressed her feet into the water, nodded her head and stepped back. Keith watched her with curiosity. This was the closet he had ever been to a human. His mother would have his scales if she knew.

The girl, more like woman in Keith’s opinion, began to fiddle with the fabric knot at her waist. She undid the cloth and let it fall to the grassy ground. Keith quickly drew a breath in. She was undressing! But he didn’t look away as his cheeks flooded with warmth. She then pulled the cloth covering her upper body over her head and dropped it onto the floor. Her upper half did not have shells covering her breasts. They were bare. Her lower half only had a small cloth that she stepped out of. In front of him, walking into the water was a completely nude human woman.

Keith watched as she stopped when the water reached half her legs. He took a deep breath in again and looked away. He should not be watching her in such a state. It was improper. He had never even seen the bare chest of a mermaid let alone her reproductive organs. He chewed his bottom lip and closed his eyes. But he wanted to watch her. Opening his purple eyes, he let them wash upon her body. He started from the bottom and made his way up, ignoring the voice in his head that said to look away.

Her legs were long and curvy. At the center where her legs met was a patch of hair. Keith was unsure as the why it was there, but it wasn’t an unappealing sight. Her stomach wasn’t completely flat but was slightly rounded. Her hips were wide, tapering into a defined waist. His eyes lingered on her breasts. They were large and round. Her nipples were a medium brown and small. They were already hard from the mixture of the warm air and cool water.  In the cleft between her breasts rested a shining piece of gold suspended by a long chain around her neck. Keith knew that human women and mermaids shared the same upper half, but he was unsure of how or where humans reproduced. Did they carry the child in their bodies like mermaids did or did they lay eggs like some sea life?

She quickly submerged under the water and came back up. Her skin glistened from the water. To Keith it seemed like the water amplified her beauty. Her hands ran through her wet hair, pushing it behind her. It clung to the skin of her back. She moved her hands down and cupped water into her palms. She dripped the water above her breasts and Keith watched as she rubbed her hands over them, following the water. She took another step forward and submerged until only her head and neck were above. She began to swim deeper into the lagoon.

Keith felt like he had ventured too close to one of the thermal vents near his kingdom. His body was so hot, even down to the tip of his tail. He decided to leave before he was caught by either the woman or his friends. He didn’t trust them to not come looking for him if he stayed any longer. He most certainly did not want them to find him in his current position. They would never let him live his peeping down, especially Lance.

He took one last look at the woman, memorizing her features and dived under the water. He kicked his crimson tail at a hurrying pace and swam back towards his home.  Already hoping he could avoid his friends’ questions. He would never tell a soul about what he had witnessed.

The woman paused in her swimming, watching a set of ripples meet hers and wondering what had caused them.

[daddygraves]

Inktober Day 15. Intimacy

@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

Softly glowing twin bedside lamps, illuminating the master bedroom's sophisticated coziness. A four-poster bed the centrepiece of the nest, and in it, two pyjama clad figures. One curled around a small fluffy dog, tapping away on the abrasive light of a smartphone, the other opting for the timeless comfort of a good book just before sleep.

A phone is turned off, and a burning flame of curiosity sparks against the flint of calm.

"Harry."

Eggsy says his lover's name both as a question and a statement. The elder man looks up from the novel Eggsy found him in Harrods last week, that he's been utterly devouring, and appraises him with a slight lift of his eyebrows.

"Yes, darling?"

"Was just thinking...." Eggsy scratches tiny Hamish's ears, and the dog wriggles with delight on the  cushioned bedcovers. Harry rests his novel on duvet, and adjusts his position against the grand wooden bedhead.

"D'you ever take your eyepatch off?"

The former Galahad digests Eggsy's question for a silent moment. "Well I take it off in the shower, yes." He gently slips a bookmark between two pages of his novel, clearly conscious of the leather pad strapped upon his face.

"And when I must wear my glasses, for work." Harry's tone carries a lilt that suggests Eggsy knows this already, but is unsure of what his partner is getting at.

"Yeah, I know babe," Eggsy replies, propping himself up on an elbow. His bare chest and arm provide a cosy nook for Hamish, who immediately snuggles his tiny body in. "But d'you ever like, just leave it off? Like no glasses or nothin'."

"Was just curious, s'all," the dirty blond adds as an afterthought. His eyes traverse Harry's features, in an attempt to gauge a reaction.

The taller man replaces his book on the nightstand, folding his hands in his lap. "No. Not really, no."

"Why?"

The question hangs suspended in the mild air, waiting for one of the two men to snatch it up.

When Harry doesn't jump to respond, Eggsy supplements the question with, "Just wondering, I spose. Cos' you've never really taken it off in front of me ever."

Once again, Harry's answer seems carefully measured, as though the man planned it carefully. "Well, until now, you've never expressed any desire for me to. So I just did as I do when in public, and cover it. It makes no difference."

But by the slight tremor in Harry's voice, and the stiffening of his spine against the cold headboard of the bed, imperceptible to the untrained eye, it clearly does. As much as Harry tries to hide it.

"I think it does. Make a difference, I mean, babe."

"Are you implying you're comfortable with me removing the patch?"

"Of course I am." Eggsy's tone is full of feeling compared to his partner's reserved one. Yet the older man studiously refuses to meet his eyes, gazing down at the intricately patterned duvet beneath his hands. Hamish snuffles in his sleep.

"Harry." Definitely a question, this time, though softer in hue. "Will you show me?

Please." Eggsy's words have the weight of a single feather, landing soundlessly upon the mattress. A conflicted expression passes over Harry's face having his young lover reconsider such a heavy request. Yet after some thoughtful, brooding stalling by lamplight, a murmured 'yes' still exhales from close lips.

Gently shifting the sleeping puppy away from his limbs, Eggsy scoots over in bed, so his warm frame presses into Harry's. The mood between them has intrinsically shifted, a crackle of apprehension and intensity between them both.

Sliding down with his hands to meet Eggsy in the bed, Harry rests his head on the same pillow. Inhaling, exhaling, he stares up at the ceiling. With rigid, mechanical movements, trembling hands gently reach behind, into the thick, short waves of chestnut hair, and ease off the sturdy band that keeps the eyepatch in place.

Eggsy waits with bated breath as turning away, Harry deposits the eyepatch on the nightstand with his book, and lays his head back onto the pillow. But the older spy keeps his face toward the ceiling, so only the unmarred side of his profile is visible to Eggsy.

"Are you certain." The waver in Harry's voice is a whisper of anxiety, only those closest to him can detect. Eggsy hears it instantly. The tiniest inkling that the usually unshakeable gentleman, who could kill in a heartbeat, was actually afraid.

A smaller hand slips over to rest soothingly on Harry's sternum, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs. Harry grabs it like a lifeline.

"Absolutely," Eggsy murmurs steadily.

Connection, familiarity, intimacy. It isn't always the art of love-making, of twin nudity, or anything outrightly sexual at all.

It's the lightest of brushes with pinky fingers as lovers walk through their neighbourhood, leashed dog trotting happily in front. Randomly gifting a partner a book theyve never heard of, but are sound in the knowledge they will like, because it sounds like the ones they've read before. Afternoons in the garden in summertime, with a gin and tonic and The Sun, getting utterly drenched by a dog mid-wash, but unable to keep a smile away when a boyfriend swoops in for a kiss that tastes like sweat and dog shampoo.

Communication with but a glance. The twitch of a jaw muscle or setting of eyes that says more than words ever will.

It's Eggsy seeing Harry remove that last, tissue paper barrier between them with methodical, distant hands, even as his eyes swim with intense emotion, jaw set. And then rolling over, to bare all.

Intimacy is letting your lover touch a part of you you barely let yourself go near, with the brush of a single finger over rippled, convoluted flesh.The few inches of skin that are a visual reminder of so much pain, both physical and psychological, of stained glass windows, high white ceilings and splintered pew seats and blood and gore and rage and a single gunshot. Of angry goodbyes that might have been forever, if not for some nanobots, alphagel, and little Hamish, who yipped in his slee, a fluffy croissant unaware of his crucial role in an agonising road to recovery. Everything they had gained, everyone they had lost, all came down to a piece of scar tissue.

The part of you that makes you recoil in disgust at its sight, and hide away with trembling hands. For fear that your lover will react the same way, and shy away, because you are no longer whole.

Eggsy takes Harry's face in a steady hand, and presses the tiniest breath of a kiss to Harry's trembling, ruined eyelid.

Because the truth is, the part of you that turns your stomach is the part they see no difference in. And love, just as unconditionally and endlessly as the rest of you.

"I told you, Harry. I love you, all of you. Always have. One eye or both."

Hamish the sleepy yorkie wiggles over to the two big waterbottles in his bed, both of which seem to be leaking, and curls up between them with a final huff of contentment.

[fuckraperos]

so lets see. dog food. mm look at those feet. thats a real nice broad there you can tell shes classy by those toes and also the length of her skirt and how its prim at the same time as playful. you can definitely turn that into some fetish shit but look out its not sure yet shes going to have enough mind body detachment to see it as choreography as opposed to just an incomprehensible misplacing of attention on her wrong end. o wait what up with the dog. the bowl is just by those toes mm tongue out. if i were that dog id be fucking down to eat there; matterfact…. you can guess i dont need to say it. so ok whats up in general. ok so they just sat down somewhere, the whole time it has seemed to me the guys kitchen but i realise now theres nobody to say table for three to there (it felt just imprecise copywriting) plus that would be a sad fucking kitchen if you have the wherewithal to have those mouldings but your kitchen table is that size. ok so theyre at a restaurant well done i dont have to go into the absurdity of having your dog on a leash at home, which i had originally read as a maladroit but still likely to work widely way of conveying dominance marketing device. i mean it probably still is considering the guy has had enough time to get the wine and is still holding the leash. is he just going to sit there grabbing it the whole time and eat with one hand? mind you with those toes i may want to sneak a cheeky wank under the table if i were that feller. lets put two and two together; the leash, the tongue, the toes. you tell me.

now hey lets talk about something important anyway. so the bro is at the table brilliant i was going to point out that besides the dog he has a glass of water on his table and the girl doesnt, and was going to say something along the lines of thats what i call hedging my bets, but actually if you look as closely as i have by now youll notice she does actually have a glass of her own so its not overtly like the guy is just playing the long game of being less drunk than she is so he can suck on those feet while smugly passing it as exploitative gourmandising rather than while crushed by shame. anyway the whole thing makes me think, considering the dogs bowl is empty — who the fuck is asking for the dog’s food, then? it’s probably the dog himself. this ad it’s legit a stock dog speaking to you. what the fuck is he saying? hes not asking you to think of his kind next time youre being classy and impress the girl by dropping a wad on ethically made chicken and turkey cause thats not what hes fucking doing. what the stock dog is saying is if you were a better man youd have a dog you feed legit fucking food to as opposed to those biscuits shits you feed him that make you sometimes ponder platos cave for a little bit and youd have enough left over to be slammin a broad like that. so i mean you might as well start small and things will fall into place soon. which if you notice, the guy has clearly not done, as the dog as were concerned has not been served yet. so thats an example of adverts speaking to people unlike those they portray / conjure. but anyway, ‘slamming a broad like that’. and what do you know about the broad? the toes. i mean pretty much. you dont really notice the yellow skirt the first minute. consider whats centred whats not. consider where the light is. homie is wearing the most nondescript shoes ever you might as well just paint over that part of the poster. so thats just darkness. ok so you see this at the tube station, your eye goes to the centre, and then ok whats up, where do i go from here, you dont really go to the darkness weve established is the guy, the next closest thing thats light is the feet, which if you miss the boring empty bowl will just direct you straight at, which i thank it for. but i mean that feets is all you need to know about a broad to decide whether its wife zone or not. oh but what if she a ho? youll make it work son. you can articulate a lot of more or less healthy and certainly potentially longevous marital narrative around toes like that.

anyways lately ive been thinking about what the fuck is up with the feet thing and im buying more and more into the vulnerability thing insofar as this guy is more clothed and more covered and in fact an animal pal solicitously further obscures him and his feet, while the toes are attached to a body fundamentally more exposed as well as juxtaposed to an empty receptacle rather than a sentient being that generally reads as of prey. are you thinking what im thinking here? i mean look at the colour of the manicure its perfect goddam those toes are the female equivalent of the amazingly lit foot of the table which is itself so sexed up in post prod that if it were a pair of feets it would be a delicious one like the one on the right of this picture. i mean consider everybodys feet are tantalisingly out the dogs the tables and crucially the babes the sugars the shawtys but the homies aint. you know why dag cos hes in control. cos thats really the thing with the whole feet thing isnt it its a form of nudity that a certain sector of the population subjects to and not the other and it comes with all sorts of added layers like does it hint at a well kempt genital periphery or she couldnt really run very far if she had to. the physicality of it has a social obverse to it about status but not going there now. all of this you could never get from fixating on the average girls knees. and theres this smear campaign saying this shit is freudian or like its about being secretly gay and toes being a substitute for dick presumably specifically ten of them but its ultimately people classing something as abnormal that they still do, just deliberately avoiding sexual frames (because nudity is a relative state that by default draws attention and in this day and age the sort of shoe shes wearing is nudity, and besides everybody is always oglin everything on everybody else all the time so there is no reason toes should be excepted) rather than just saying yes this whole fucking thing we collectively have going on with women collectively is about power and its fucked, which is actually not so bad because once you say it ok fine you have acknowledged and at this point you can just be like oh but i still fux with it doe and move on as actually a better person. anyways lads you know the drill cover up drink water have money generally play it cool youll get places.