#i think i found my next idea for a keychain drawing this

[jongbross]

hello may i request matching couple items headcanon with exo? thank you <3

xiumin:

minseok would have matching mugs with you. as a big fan of coffee, he would go shopping with you one day and lose himself at the store. when he's back, he has two grey mugs with little drawings that complete each other. "look what i found! it's cute, don't you think?"

suho:

junmyeon would definitely have matching phone cases with you. he has a good collection of cases, so it would only be natural for him to receive a package one day and say "love, come see it!" - and when you appear behind him, you see two star wars phone cases with the words "i love you" and "i know". 🥹

lay:

i think yixing would either have matching necklaces or matching earrings with you, it just fits him. maybe he would be preparing to travel for a press tour, and before he leaves, he takes you out on a date and gives you a little box with a cute silver necklace, a tiny, shiny pendant on it. when you look at him, he pulls his own necklace from inside his shirt. "we're matching", yixing would say, with a big smile on his face.

baekhyun:

definitely matching shirts. baekhyun would tease you, looking online for corny matching shirts for couples - like those with bright colors and funny sayings. he would loooove to see you annoyed, rolling your eyes at him. in the end, baek would buy simple, minimalist matching shirts in a dark color - "we don't need to drought attention to our love, people would be jealous that you have me and they don't".

chen:

matching bracelets!!! the idea probably wouldn't be his, maybe jongdae would see someone doing it and just tell you "hey, what if we do it too?". next thing you know, you two would be at his couch on a sunday afternoon, making diy bracelets for each other - something that he would never, ever take it off.

chanyeol:

this man screams matching sneakers to me. chanyeol loves buying new shoes, and at some point he would start to look at a few sneakers and think that maybe they would fit you - and then it hits him. what if you two had matching sneakers? it would be nice, right? and this new nike air force is just sooo cute, isn't it? 🤭

d.o:

kyungsoo is a simple guy, he doesn't like to go too big for a lot of things - and one of them is matching items. i feel like he would maybe buy something small, like a keychain, at one of his trips. he would see the two keychains completing each other and instantly think about you. "i thought of you - and look, i have one too", kyungsoo would say, hoping you would like it.

kai:

soft, sooooft boy. jongin would definitely have matching pajamas with you, with cute little things all over it - his would probably have little brown bears, while yours would have little dogs or cats on it. jongin absolutely loves to sleep and to have comfortable clothes on, so the moment you said you needed a new pair of pajamas, he went "oh my god, i know just the place!"... and then you two left with two bags each.

sehun:

where the fuck is gifs from sehun on at sg photoshoot?

deep inside, sehun is a child - we all know that. so i absolutely think he would love the idea of having matching toothbrushes with you! the idea would be yours, but he would laugh his ass off once he saw it. "i want the spongebob one" "nope, that's mine" - as he grabs and puts in his mouth. "sehun, you didn't wash it!!!"

#exo reactions #exo imagines #exo fanfic #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #exo fics #xiumin #suho #lay zhang #baekhyun #chen #jongdae #chanyeol #d.o #kyungsoo #kai #jongin #sehun #exo #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

Spider & déjà blue road trip headcannons

I already said I’m on a road trip so here you go 👀 might be heavily OOC bc I’m tired

.

When Spider found out that he’s getting dragged on a road trip with his bio dad, uncles and aunt, he was not excited. First of all, because they’re likely a bunch of uncool, overly strict marines and second because they’re grown ups 🙄 but custody is custody, so he has no choice.

Mansk had a van, so they use it to travel during this trip.

The kid had no idea what he was getting into, but neither did the déjà blu.

Quaritch

Goes full mother hem mode, prepares for any contingency. Has two first-aid kits, all sorts of camping equipment and even some hidden firearms (Spider doesn’t know about the latter and it’s best it stays that way)

Packed lunches and snacks for Spider!.

Drives the car and talks about sports, fishing and hunting with Lye who’s one seat behind. He later moves to sit next to him when blondie becomes way too hyperactive for him to handle.

Spider will be back though, because Eywa knows this man is ancient and needs help working through Google maps so the squad actually gets somewhere this weekend.

Yells at passengers in the backseats when they get too loud.

Shares an earbud with Spider at one point, to drown out the snores and listens to indie with him ☺️ doesn’t want to admit it, but thinks his son’s playlist is low-key a bomb. They sing the lyrics quietly while the others sleep.

(Pssst, the song they’re vibing to:

Spider

Is restless. He needs movement and sitting in a car is the exact opposite of that. Needless to say, keeping him occupied is quite difficult.

First several hours, he’s content to listen to music while looking out the window, drawing in his sketchbook or watching YouTube, but he’s itching to do something and the backseat seems much more fun, with loudly Z-dog and Lopez are talking.

Getting teased and firing back at them busies him some more, but he has to eventually come back to the front seat to argue with Miles about what roads to take and how to work the gps on his phone.

“See??? It’s saying that the road is closed!”

“Where the hell is it written!?”

“THERE! There’s an icon of some guy digging, that means road work ahead!”

“Well I sure damn how it does!”

“OH MY— DAD I SWEAR TO EYWA—”

Buys silly keychains and charms on every stop to add to an ever growing collection on his locker key, that he can then use to jingle as to further annoy the adults or get their attention.

Lyle

Provides Miles witch a company while he’s stuck trying to entertain Spider.

Proceeds to bore Spider to sleep by talking about fishing.

Takes over driving when Quaritch is too tired and has an hour long back and forth with the kid, exchanging sarcasm and making him cringe with his puns (yes, he’s the dad pun uncle, you can’t change my mind)

Pays for Spider’s keychains.

Zdog

Shares her row in the van with Lopez because they’re both high energy menaces.

Stole some of Spider’s snacks.

“Hey, hey, Spidey”

“Ugh what?”

“Ok so who do you think would win, a silverback gorilla OR a grizzly bear??”

She’s on the side of the bear, and Spider bands with her, arguing with Lopez for hours about which of the animals would kick the other’s ass.

Braids Spider’s hair when she gets bored and the kid ends up rocking Viking braids for the rest of their trip.

Lopez

Is on the side of the gorilla and borderline disowned the two he shares his seat with after hours of arguing and trying to prove to them that the monke is superior because it has a bigger brain and hands ☝️

“What the fuck is the monkey going to do to a grizzly???”

“It can use tools! Make itself a badass battle axe, like in Godzilla vs king-Kong!!”

Takes Spider’s snacks from Zdog and munches her stolen goods right in front of her.

Mansk

Mansk provided the transport, so he’s content to rest in the back of the car with Ja, who, together with him is the calmest out of the squad.

Mostly just stares out the window, listens to music or sleeps.

However, will absolutely grill whatever fish Lyle catches during the trip. He hasn’t brought grilling equipment for nothing!

Offered to sit in the middle row so he could dampen the chaos of Lopez, Z and Spidey but they declined. He’ll have to get better earplugs next time.

Ja/Alexander

The second mother hen of the group. Asked everyone a billion times if they packed everything they needed, and brought a med-kit of his own.

Is the one to disinfect Spider’s knees when he scrapes them while climbing rocks near the parking lot. He’s not a big talker, but has a softer vibe than Mansk.

Pampers Spider just a bit. Gives him his snacks when Z-dog steals them, offers him water and so on. The more subtle details that Quaritch or Spider himself may miss.

#Spotify #atwow #atwow recoms #avatar recoms #avatar way of water #atwow headcanons #atwow spider #spider atwow #spider socorro #spider avatar #avatar spider #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar quaritch #avatar headcanons #recom quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar lyle #lyle wainfleet #avatar zdog #recom zdog #avatar lopez #recom lopez #recom squad #recom ja #recom mansk

[basslinegrave]

idk what to wear to pride next week (if i even go cause its scary) but i have 2 ideas

a shirt thats in the trans flag colors but i have to resize it cuz its too big, then from the pieces that i would cut off i could try making a mini matching shirt for a furby to carry around, but no idea what to pair it up with other than just regular shorts etc (easier to make)

or

shadow drip. i got some black shorts with red accents, would wear my old chains (from tripp like pants, also black with some red thread details so it matches) attaching a bootleg shadow keychain i have to them cuz its fun (dont wanna destroy my actual nice plushies) but idk what to pair those with so im thinking about my red patterned shirt (hawaiian shadow vibes) but idk about shoes, i would either wear my platform sneakers with some red socks or add some torn red fabrics over it or other light customizing (easy) or customize my old fila disruptors that i dont wear (paint the bottoms red and add some black, maybe yellow laces if i found some) (hard mode) and the final is i would like to wear a tee with shadow on it under the shirt but i only have the puma one that also has knuckles on it but the picture is on the back.. so i was thinking about making a custom and just draw something on but idk if i even want to wear a tee underneath cuz it might be very hot. but i think a black tee with a small white tribal design on the top front would be perfect but all ive seen being sold is too expensive but again i could draw it? or a lineart of some shadow art - or just go plain tee underneath or a mesh tee would be perfect so i dont die from heat but like i dont like showing my tummy :((

anyway it sounds cool to me in theory but it might look uglee so i will have to try it on before customizing

#i hate using the word hawaiian when describing a shirt cause i heard its kinda rude so i prefer saying patterned shirt #but had to use it for shadow cause thats how the fandom called him #third secret option would be going for shadow And sonic theme cuz i have a ton of sonic tees but actually none of them rly match the pants #i just wanna dress up silly!! #last year we met someone that was dressed in like lolita stuff and it was the coolest thing everrr #also i can bring a furby even with the shadow drip ofc #long post #kinda #i always imagine a cool af outfit from what i own then put it on and it looks terrible #cuz im not tall and skinny

[imaginationstimulation]

GIFTING FLEETWOOD MAC’S THE DANCE TO MY MOTHER | by Spencer Silverthorne

— after Chad Bennett’s “Silver Springs”

I bought my mother The Dance for her birthday the year I got into pop music. I wasn’t allowed to watch MTV most likely because it was too sexy and irreverent, but one day I got tired of being in the dark when a boy said Dookie.

I didn’t know my mother listened to pop music because she listened to NPR. She considered herself pretty centrist. I popped grapes as she drove me to the bus stop while Steven Inskeep interviewed an animated representative. Lessons in illuminating, interrogating, or mollifying lies. We only had 30 seconds left until the bus came. Another day where I never knew what was next. It was a battle of interruptions and I wanted to listen to Y100.

Everyone was tired of Beavis and Butthead. I still could do an impression of Beavis and would pull the back of my shirt onto my head to say cornholio. Everyone laughed or told me to f*ck off. I had no idea what I was doing. I was just trying to get boys to like me in the worst possible way.

The boys must have known something that I did not know.

Peter Jennings said Congress wanted to rid the world of Beavis and Butthead. They would rally from time to time.

I used to gift my mother portraits of our family depicted in front of our house. Everything, including our bodies, was constructed out of boxes. Just in case anyone would forget, I identified a mother, father, son, and god with terrible penmanship and indicating arrows. Dots for eyes, one above an up-slanted eyebrow, nails for hands, roof unfinished. I didn’t know how to draw and my mother later discouraged me from pursuing a career in the arts.

My mother said Pink Floyd and Fleetwood Mac were her favorite bands. That fall I wanted to dress up as a hippie for Halloween. My mother asked her best friend to send her bell bottoms with all kinds of patches on it. One patch had a peace sign, and another had a happy face from what I remember.

I drew them all over my margins and on the brown paper that covered textbooks. I didn’t know the origins of this sign. I didn’t know that Gerald Holtom wanted everyone to read the letters N and D into the symbol that originally stood for nuclear disarmament. I did remember one boy telling me that the symbol was fascist. I did remember thinking he was an *ssh*le and then wanting to jump into the TV screen to escape his lies. It would be better there, and I could learn about everything.

The boys must have known something that I did not know.

A few months before I bought my mom The Dance, another boy from a stricter family than mine lent me his copy of Dookie. I wondered how he got this tape because both our parents hated cursing in music which is why they sent us to Catholic School.

Twenty years later, and five years after my mother’s death, a member of my family would yell shut up you f*cking liberal b*tch to a newscaster on NPR.

I heard boys say Green Day Rules on the bus but I couldn’t remember what they said sucks. I liked the Elton John song on the Lion King soundtrack. I thought the piano was moving because I played it. Middle C, but the wrists are wrong! Life swoons in epithets. I learned enough to pound along. I kept my mouth shut because I misheard Day as Bay.

I did not know their f*cking rules at all.

In the mid-90s my father was always traveling to Green Bay, Wisconsin. He gifted me a keychain of a football embossed with the letters GO PACKERS.

I don’t know how to invite anyone to this poem, because I was obsessed with the line from the song, I found out what it takes to be a man/Mom and Dad would never understand.

These misunderstandings between Bay and Day were apparent in my composition. I went to the psychiatrist to interpret patterns like any other art f*g in Catholic School.

I starred as Rudolf the Rednose Reindeer in the Christmas play. My mother couldn’t attend because she was recovering from chemotherapy.

It’s a story that’s told every holiday gathering. My father is exhausted from bringing my mom home from Pennsylvania Hospital and I come off the Bryn Mawr bus to remind everyone that I’m Rudolf. My mom remarks O Yea I Forgot to Tell You, and this is where my father goes CONK! To describe how my mother passed out. And everyone chuckles.

This story is told over and over so that the sting of the grief softens. The way the body has been thought of as a system that needs continuous repair. The hospital, chemo, vomit, sallowness, weight loss mitigate symbols within a sphere of knowledge. Illness, care, and survival involve symbols that have the strength to evade meaning but the sting remains.

I have told friends that grief is a monster. That’s the only thing I can really say about it. It’s not a monster with recognizable scales, but a deadening shadow akin to what I picture as an angel of death. Except no letter to save the day.

I struggle to write about my mother, my father, my family, my solitude, my rage. Those long bus hours, the moments I was told not to cry, not to act out, to pray, to feel shame, to suck it up, you have to suck it up, as she would say as a lesson from firsthand experience, probably from chemo, and to be good, to be so f*cking good, like a god everyone wants to be.

“I just wanted to be wanted” like a bad Frank O’Hara misquote, like his acolytes, like the other men writing like him. 

I often misinterpreted goodness with disappearance.

Every time I left the house, my mother, like any other, would say, Be Good!

[via: Verse of April]

#poetry #poem #list poem #list #mother #music #fleetwood mac

[itsabirbthing]

Which is your favorite?

#comic #art #birds #pets #animals #birb #cockatiel #artists on tumblr #cheeks the cockatiel #itsabirbthing #itsabirdthing #i think i found my next idea for a keychain drawing this

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

“How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

#yelena belova x reader #marvel fanfiction #yelena belova #black widow #black widow fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova imagine

[smutbymia]

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno: 

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few. 

        You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment. 

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height. 

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out. 

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project. 

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze. 

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path. 

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat. 

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face. 

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides. 

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen. 

JENO: It’s Jeno 

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm. 

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply. 

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want. 

JENO: Just be there we have work to do. 

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun. 

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich. 

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at. 

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke. 

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered. 

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school. 

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back. 

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen. 

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.  

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes. 

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing. 

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons. 

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you. 

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off. 

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer. 

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment 

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything. 

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you. 

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression. 

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you. 

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back. 

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke. 

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin. 

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip. 

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this. 

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot. 

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured. 

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He  stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes. 

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee. 

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against. 

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.  

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving. 

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact. 

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable. 

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.” 

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts. 

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder. 

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned. 

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned. 

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast. 

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin. 

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking. 

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed. 

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure. 

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you. 

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over. 

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room. 

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth. 

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body. 

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...” 

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs. 

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers. 

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms. 

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression. 

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing. 

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself. 

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly. 

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out. 

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate. 

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power. 

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate. 

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment. 

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned. 

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off. 

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face. 

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly. 

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night. 

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him. 

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you. 

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties. 

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane. 

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven. 

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as  he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there. 

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely. 

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer. 

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him. 

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence. 

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping. 

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression. 

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips. 

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms. 

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips. 

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace. 

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words. 

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile. 

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum. 

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin. 

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

     it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream. 

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more. 

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again. 

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious. 

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash. 

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently. 

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno. 

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered. 

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said. 

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him. 

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for. 

#tell me your thoughts please😣 #wtf i wish i was in this fic #jeno scenarios #jeno smut #jeno imagines #jeno angst #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct au #switch!jeno #nct imagines #nct scnearios #nct fanfiction #NCT Dream Scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic

[changeling-crafts]

DIY stim toy keychain/bracelet

I really like this project because each step of it can be it's own relaxing project with a fun end result

[[MORE]]

to make one you will need

old magazines/paper

string

scissors

glue

a stick to wrap your beads around

a staight edge

a button (only if you want to make a bracelet)

This part is totally optional but I started by drawing some abstract color blotches all over my paper for more colorful beads, I reccomend markers over colored pencils or crayons for this because the wax from those mediums can make the glue less effective.

After I've decorated my paper I took a ruler and marked out every inch along one of the short sides. On the top of the page I started by measuring half an inch and then marked out in inches from there. Lastly I connected up all the markings so I get a page of long triangles.

Pro tip: do this on the back of your page otherwise those lines will show up on your beads (unless you think those lines look cool in which case do it as I did)

If you dont have a ruler you can use a scrap piece of paper and mark out how long you want your beads to be and just use that as a guide, for the half inch part just fold your guide in half.

Next I cut along those lines and roll/glue them into beads, I found that rolling them up and unrolling before applying the glue can make gluing much easier.

If you want your beads to be more durable you can coat them in a layer of nail polish before using them, I like using a slightly shimmery polish for beads to add a lil extra glam.

make sure you cut your string much longer than you think you need, the string I cut started off as about two feet long and it shrunk to the size you see on the top most pic.

Once the string is cut fold it in half and tie a knot making a loop in the middle of the string. If you are making a bracelet make sure this loop is big enough for your button to pass through. you can omit this if you just want to make a non keychain/bracelet stim toy

Next start threading the beads onto the string by passing both ends of the string through either end of the bead, crossing in the center of the bead. If you have ever made a bead lizard. this is the same idea. I like the make sure that I'm not pulling the string too tight, so the beads can still roll freely.

Keep adding beads until its a length you like, to finish off a keychain you can just knot the two ends however you want, for a bracelet make sure to add a button so you can put the bracelet on.

I find that rolling the beads between my fingers is nice and so is rolling the beads against each other. I find that playing with it a lil bit helps loosen things up a bit, if after a bit your beads arent rolling well try gently pulling on either end of the stim toy to stretch it out a bit. If that dosent help you might try re threading it. I sometimes find that the ends of my beads can unstick and unroll a bit, but it's not hard to add a bit of glue to get it back in working order.

The nice thing about this is that theyre so easy (and cheap) to make that I dont worry about breaking/losing/giving them away

as always you are welcome to ask any questions or to tag me in your attempt at this project, happy crafting!

#diy tutorial #crafts #changelingcore #goblincore #stim #stim toys

[ddaehyeon]

ophiuchus - you have this limited stack of sticky notes. write whatever you want on it, and that note would magically appear somewhere in your soulmate’s line of sight during that day.

send me a member and a constellation!

— pairing: jung subin + gn!reader

— genre: fluff, soulmate au, office au

— word count: 1.5k

— requested ☆ victon masterlist

today will be the start.

that was the words scribbled on a blue sticky note you kept in between the pages of your favorite book. the last note you received from your soulmate. you randomly found it by your desk as you were working on your resume for a manufacturing company you were trying to get into. months had passed since you last got a note, so you assumed it was your soulmate’s final words to you.

a fascinating way to get to know your soulmate, although you doubt you ever got the chance to send your soulmate any type of notes. you can’t remember having that limited stack of sticky notes similar to what your friends would gush about during college. and your soulmate wasn’t too keen on giving off their identity either, settling for a few words of encouragement every other day and sometimes, random words. like really random ones. there was even a time they sent off a what seemed to be a grocery list.

though you got a hold of their last note, their other notes were no longer with you. with most of it only appearing in your line of sight, either too far to be reached or too awkward to pick up.

“good morning, you’re the new analyst, right?” a man with towering height greeted you, slumping a box on your table. things you supposed were necessary for your job. you peered over their id, their smiling photograph looking back at you. choi byungchan.

“i am.” a small curve made its way to your brim, lighting up your face a bit. though there was no point in denying that you were actually worried about what you were to do. the new environment adequate for your stomach to twist in both nervousness and excitement.

byungchan looked at the close area, the nearest cubicles were ones occupied by employees who probably had started their day way too early. already in the middle of typing out reports, with some answering phone calls and pacing in and out of the area. “our advertising manager is scary.”

a clearing of the throat stopped you from whatever question you were to throw as to why byungchan said that. another guy appeared next to your cubicle, he was holding a couple of brown envelopes. “am i?”

you shot a look on his id, his name easily spotted. jung subin. underneath, his title proudly printed. he was the advertising manager.

“just kidding.” byungchan let out a chuckle before grinning to the other. waving in your direction before leaving your cubicle.

subin watched him all along before he stepped closer to you, placing what he was carrying on the table. it was a few clippings and report summary of the former trends and advertising plans. “i compiled everything that you might need there, on the sticky note my email’s written. if ever you need additional data, just send me a message.”

“thank you,” you said with a nod. opposite to what byungchan had warned, subin wasn’t really scary. though you had to agree that his sharp look made him somewhat intimidating. gazing at the sticky note stuck on the top of the envelope, a cold feeling crawled onto your skin. breathe immediately sucked in, heart missing one beat— wait a minute.

“is something wrong?” subin asked, halting your train of thoughts, but not the trail of sensation that was rapidly setting in your body.

you shook your head, unable to commit to any verbal response.

his writing was familiar.

awfully familiar.

never did the idea leave your mind. for good days it remained there.

subin wasn’t in his office when you got there. you’d simply leave the files he had asked for only if you didn’t need some other monthly data. quite urgent of a need that you were willing to wait just a little bit until his meeting ends.

unable to hold still in sitting on the couch, you stood and wandered around his office. supplies tidily stacked on the shelves, a pile of documents on his table, most of the former advertising campaigns stuck on the bulletin adjacent to the sofa. the thing that caught your eyes the most was the handwritten weekly schedule. his handwriting.

once again, you ended up having a staring game with the paper. trying to analyze it as if it was your schedule, when in fact you were not really paying attention to what was written. all your focus fixated on how it was written. curving in rush, yet still neat.

the door swung open almost inaudibly or perhaps you were simply lost with your thoughts that you failed to perceive it. not until subin’s voice echoed in your ears as he stood behind you did you notice that he was already back.

“i’m free this weekend,” subin casually said, a chuckle heard from him afterward as he walked towards his table to settle down his notebook.

you shook your head, a little abashed of how he caught you in the act of staring at his writing. oh well, his weekly schedule. “that’s not it.”

nodding his head, he sat down on his chair. “then why were you looking at my schedule ever so intently?”

“just…” stepping away from the bulletin, you walked closer to his table. for a moment, you contemplated whether to tell him about your thoughts or not. but there was nothing weird with finding someone’s handwriting familiar, right? it wasn’t such a strange thing, right? meeting his gaze was enough of a reassurance, quite inquisitive too. “i think your handwriting is familiar.”

“it is?” he raised a brow at your words. “what do you mean?”

unsure of what to say, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “today will be the start.”

the puzzlement that came across his features allowed an awkward smile to come to your lips. maybe it was some kind of coincidence. he wasn’t that person, no? admittedly, that was quite a disappointment. you shook your head in an attempt to take the words back. “nevermind.”

that was ignored though, subin’s frown melted upon a realization. “so you were that person who kept on sending those animal doodles when i was a kid?”

and it was your turn to be confused. “what?”

a knowing smile lit upon his lips, welcoming and a bit nostalgic. eyes discerning, warm gaze as if he had found someone he had been looking for. “do you not remember drawing something on a paper and it disappearing?”

“wait, so you mean—”

there were only a few instances it occurred or at least that was the depth your memories could still recognize. around kindergarten, you had this notepad that you weren’t entirely sure how you got. its pages were pigmented in bright and whimsical colors. and you filled it with the same amount of playfulness through doodles of animals and flowers, most were silly, but fun to make. however, none of it lasted in the notepad, all disappearing after the day it was drawn. you didn’t mind though, thinking that perhaps someone just pulled it off or it just magically vanished.

it was magical, yes, but it didn’t just disappear.

“i even have most of it kept,” subin confirmed, pulling a drawer and retrieving his keys from it. lifting his hand, he revealed a keyring that had a small drawing of a bunny locked on it. the color of the paper familiar to you, regardless of the many shades of color there was. its blue tone was distinct. “this drawing was from you?”

you took a few steps closer to him to study the keychain which he ended up handing to you. shooting him a look, a question slipped out of your tongue. “you mean you were actually able to get some sticky notes from me?”

subin bobbed his head up and down, his smile spreading in delight. “when we were younger.”

later that day, subin insisted on walking you to the bus stop. the remaining rays of sunlight brushes upon your figure, two shadows moving from behind as the two of you strolled on the sidewalk. you were unable to hold any more conversations earlier due to the other office tasks both of you had to work on.

“so why haven’t you been writing?” you asked, breaking the silence that had been existing ever since you stepped out of the building.

subin shrugged. “i ran out of it.”

“i see.” you nodded at his words, feet stopping in one go when you thought of another question. something you’d been curious about. “what do you mean by ‘today will be the start’ on your last note?”

“oh that?” subin’s track halted as well, a moment taken to look at the sky. the colors altering to what seemed to have been the pigments of the sticky notes the two of you had exchanged— of orange and red. “it just meant that from that day onwards, i will simply allow fate to work, to bring us together.”

he turned to look at you, the curve on his lips was able to spark a glimmer in his eyes. “and it seems like it did.”

#victonwriters #victon imagines #victon scenarios #victon oneshots #victon fluff #victon #jung subin #subin #victon x reader #kpop imagines #requests #constellation prompts #to edit! #suddenly feeling rusty with writing after going all out with academic papers but anyways

[brelione]

Secret (Rafe X Reader)

Warnings:Literal fucking trash.Please dont torture youself by reading this :)

Can you do 3 from the prompt list with Rafe please where their parents basically forbid their relationship for whatever reason and forced them to break up even though they were good for one another and Rafe was slowly becoming a better person?

Rafe always knew he should keep his relationship with you secret.He knew that it was something too precious and too lovely to let anyone else know.He knew that his father wasnt accepting of people like you.Pogues.You were a pogue,you lived on The Cut and worked two jobs just to stay on your feet.

He didnt know he could love a pogue or anyone as much as he loved you.He couldnt really recall exactly what got you two together,it had been the work of fate.You were out for a surf while he was out for a smoke and your worlds just collided.He had seen you wipe out,only to come up to the surface a few feet away from him.You pulled your board from the water,standing up and smearing the blood from your leg.

 “That had to have hurt.”He commented.You shrugged,walking to your towel that laid on the sand,pressing it to the wound.He had somehow ended up sitting next to you,sharing his joint to ‘help with the pain’.That one night led to him sneaking out of his house to meet you at the beach where you taught him to surf,meeting him in the mornings to show him baby crabs.

One of his favorite things about you was how you carried a pencil pouch of pens everywhere you went,drawing all over your arms and legs.Eventually you had convinced him to let you draw on him,drawing a giraffe on his wrist.He had fallen in love with it and with you.Every Time you saw him and the doodle had faded he’d ask you to redo it.It was just a reminder of your love.It was nice until his father decided to call him out on it.

“Did you realy get a fucking tattoo?”He had walked into the garage as Rafe was lifting weights,seeing the sharpie doodle. “No.”Rafe answered,putting down the weights and grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead.Ward seemed unconvinced,a grumpy expression on his face. “What is it then?”He asked.Rfe hesitated before answering,knowing what would come next. “A drawing.”He answered.

 “You cant draw shit.Who drew it?”he asked.Rafe sighed,pulling on a tshirt. “A friend.”He answered. “What friend?”Ward pushed,being a stubborn bitch as always. “You dont know her.”Rafe answered,attempting to walk past Ward when the mans hand wrapped around his wrist,strong enough to cut off his circulation. “Her?Who,Rafe?GIve me names.”Ward spoke,his voice seeming threatening. “No.”Rafe answered,flinching when Ward’s gripped tightened. 

“Why?What are you hiding?”Ward asked.Rafe let out a shaky breath,looking away from his father and contemplating whether or not to tell him the truth. “Her….her name is (Y/N).”Rafe answered,cringing at his words.Ward let go only a little,still holding tight but not so tight that his hand was purple.Rafe could feel his blood beginning to circulate again,his fingers no longer feeling cold. 

“(Y/N)?(Y/N) who?What’s her last name?”Ward asked.Rafe gulped,his heart thumping in his chest. “(Y/L/N).You dont know her.”Rafe answered,tugging his arm away and going inside the house,Ward close on his heels. “I know enough about her to know that shes trouble.I know that she ripped up one of my nets,stay away from her.Shes broke trash.”Ward spoke,voice dripping in hatred.

Rafe turned around,fury evident on his face. “She ripped up one of your nets cause you were killing fucking dolphins-shes a fucking sweetheart and she works for every single penny shes ever fucking made.”He was close to yelling,unaware of Sarah sitting on the couch and watching the fight.Ward scoffed. “Oh,please.She’s using you for my money and you’re too ignorant to see it.”Ward rolled his eyes. 

“She hasnt used a single dollar of mine!She’s never asked for money or anything you fucking asshole!She loves me for me,not for your money you selfish bastard!”Rafe shouted,his face becoming red.Ward seemed shock,not thinking abour it before his palm colided with the side of his sons face.Sarah let out a loud gasp,Rafe’s eyes widening before he ran outside and got in his truck,immediately speeding out and going to your house.

You were still asleep when Rafe came through your door,tears in his eyes.His face softened when he saw your sleeping figure on the couch,an old disney movie playing on your tv.

He kneeled down in front of you,watching as your eyes opened. “Rafe?”You asked.A smile came across his face,leaning down to kiss your forehead.You grumbled,sitting up. “What time is it?”You asked.He shrugged,kissing your lips gently. “What’s up with you?You seem sad.”You pouted,holding his t shirt and pulling him so hed sit next to you. “Im fine.”He answered,knowing he was screwed when your tongue scraped against your teeth.

Thats how he knew that you could pretty much read his mind. “You’re upset about something and your arm is bruised.Did you get into a fight?”You asked,shifting so you were straddling him and he had no other option but to look at you. “I got into a fight with my dad,its fine though.”He answered,moving up slightly to kiss you but you backed out. “Rafe,did he hurt you?”You asked.

He sighed,his hands trailing under your oversized t shirt-his t shirt-to rub circles on the warm skin. “Yeah,yeah he did.”He admitted,watching the way your jaw dropped slightly.You wrapped your arms around him,his head tucking under your chin as tears started to roll down his cheeks. “Rafe,baby,what was the fight about?”You asked.He gulped,a salty tear falling into his mouth.

 “I-I told him about you and he got mad and-and I called him a bastard so he slapped me.”He let out a sob,his grip on you tightening.You huffed,twirling his hair in your fingers. “So this was my fault?”You asked.He shook his head,still holding you close to him. “No,of course not.Its his fault.”He answered.He cupped your face,kissing you lightly. “Can I stay here for a while?”He asked.

Most of the day was spent with him cuddling with you,holding you close and placing kisses all over you.You both fell asleep on your couch,waking up to loud pounding on your door.Rafe placed an arm over you,telling you to stay put.His heart was beating loudly,his hand shaking.The color drained from his face when he saw Ward at the door.It was too late to turn around,the older man had already seen him. “Get out here and come home.”The man demanded.You came out to the kitchen,a frown on your face.Rafe cursed when he saw you,telling you to go back into the living room. 

“I’ll see you later today,okay?”He asked before walking out the door,Wrd immediately grabbing onto his arm.You were too shocked to do anything,standing there speechless.You had tried calling and texting him but they wouldnt send.He had blocked you.You tried messaging Sarah through instagram but that didnt work either.

You didnt even know what to do,resorting to crying on your couch.You found Rafe’s keys on your kitchen table a few days later,getting into his truck and driving to his house in the middle of the night.You had been quiet as possible,climbing up the side of his house and onto his balcony because of course he had a balcony.You could never understand why it was there or what it was for but you were thankful that it was here now.

You could see him on his bed,his back turned away from you.You knocked on the door,seeing it was locked.You could see him tense up,standing up and smiling wide when he saw you.He ran across the room,tapping on the glass. “He locked it,I dont have the key.”He told you,his voice quiet because of the glass separating you.You sighed,tapping along the glass before you got an idea,taking his truck keys and attempting to push them into the key hole of the door.

It was no luck and at this point you could see the desperation on Rafe’s face.You pulled off the keychain,twisting at the circle so one of the sides would stick out.His eyebrows furrowed,biting his lip anxiously as you twisted the metal in the keyhole,trying to get the door to open.You heard a click,he let out a small gasp before practically ripping the door open,pulling you too him. “He shut down my phone and locked me in here.”He spoke softly,his hands tight around you.

When you were about to suggest that he come with you his bedroom door unlocked,Ward staring at the two of you with pure anger on his face. “Get out of my house before I call the cops.”He spoke to you,his hand around his phone.Rafe shook his head,holding you tighter. “Dad-you cant keep me locked in here forever.”Rafe answered,feeling the way your hands were shaking around him. “You broke into my house and youre manipulating and abusing my son.Not only that but you vandalized and destroyed my property,you’re lucky I havent gotten you thrown into prison yet.”Ward’s eyes stayed on you.

Rafe scoffed,letting go of you and approaching his father. “Shes manipulative and abusive?Look at you!You slapped me and you’ve locked me in my room!”He shouted,probably waking up his sisters.Ward’s eyes widened. “Its for your own good!She’ll use you and then break you!”Ward exclaimed. “What?”Like mom did to you?”Rafe yelled,his fists clenching.

That had been nearly five months ago.A lot had changed since then.You had grown as a person,becoming friends with JJ,Pope,Kiara and John.B.Rafe had gone back to the way he was before he met you,a drug addict who doubled as a fucking bitch.You still missed him though,hoping that he was at least doing better since the last time you saw him.The Pogues couldnt believe that you had once been in a relationship with him no matter how hard you tried to convince them that he was different with you.They didnt believe you of course,they knew Rafe,not Rafe Alexander Cameron.

You had started to forget about him,the feelings he made you feel and all the memories you had with the boy.Then you saw him at the beach and everything just came back.The feelings,the memories,the feeling in your stomach.He glanced in your direction,eyes widening as he did a double take.He literally ran to you,a confused expression on his face. “(Y/N)-fuck,shit.Dad told me that he got you in prison-what the fuck?”He hugged you,spinning you around.

 “Oh,wow.Nice to know you still think of me.”You giggled,looking up at the tall boy.He smiled. “All the time.”He answered,squeezing your waist. “So how have you been?I havent seen you in like...ten years.”You grinned.He shrugged,biting his lip. “You know,the same old.I tried to remember your number,dad took my old phone and gave me a whole new number.What are you doing?”He asked,looking around the beach. “Um...you know,vibing.”You shrugged.He nodded,sitting down in the sand with you,his hand holding yours. “I um….I made some new friends.”You spoke quietly,not knowing what his reaction would be.He grinned,licking his lips. 

“Yeah?Does that mean you’re crushing on one of them?”He asked.You shook your head,rubbing circles on his hand. “No,its a nice change in things though I guess.I missed you.”You mumbled.He smiled,leaning forward and kissing you gently. “I missed you too,you still love me?”He asked,making you smile. “Always.”You answered,kissing the tip of his nose. “It sucks that we gotta start the whole secret relationship thing again.I wont fuck it up this time,though.I promise.”You rested your head in the crook of his neck as he spoke,kissing his collarbone lightly.

@sexytholland @28cnn  @popcrone818 @fttayla @cherryobx @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @drewstarkeyobx @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @jjtheangel @outerbongs

@sunwardsss @meaganjm @httpstarkey @copper-boom​ 

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #drew starkey #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks rafe

[fatehbaz]

Had a conversation about spiders today. Triggered some memories.

At the time, hadn’t really ever known what it was like to live in one place for longer than a year or two. People came and went. You lived somewhere, and then you were lost. Everything was transient and passing. Slowly I attracted friends while trying to show them the colorful millipedes that lived along the edges of the “empty” lot, where native grasses extended beyond the lawns and playground architecture. I was 9-and-a-half years old. I don’t know if I was ready to watch things die.

“Weird Girl Bug Club” is not a make-believe internet joke. Some of the soil was sandy, some black and wet, and some rich with decaying leaf litter and mycorrhizal fungi. It was an amalgamation. Was this the remnant of the shortgrass prairie? Was it influenced by naturally-occurring sagebrush steppe in the area? Instead, was it actually full of non-native pasture plants, left over from cattle ranges or farms, which only appeared to be “native” in comparison to the obviously non-native green crab grasses of the adjacent school lawn? Unclear. Maybe all of the partially damaged environments were blending together. The empty lot was Frankenstein’s monster. (At the time, I was already in love with both Gothic monsters and unnecessary over-the-top accessorizing, so I had a keychain, hitched to a belt loop, from which dangled a cheap plastic model of Frankenstein’s mosnter and the Hollywood version of the Wolfman.) Along the edges of that grassy expanse? Oak, alder, maple, even aspen. I knew bugs but didn’t know trees, so which of those were native? I didn’t know.

The crew: Like 9 girls and a boy, I guess. During recess: Bug Time. Late March: Leopard frogs in the flooded lawn. April: Toads along the base of the oak. May: Three species of gartersnake, attracted to tiny little patches of differing microhabitat. Wandering gartersnakes preferred the leaf litter at dry spots beneath the trees. Red-sided gartersnakes preferred the vernal pools, always half-submerged in water. Plains gartersnakes seemed better able to tolerate the concrete-lined irrigation canal and the fertilizer-poisoned soils of the flooded lawns. I saw a bullsnake in the lot once. A schoolteacher was watching me, she yelled at me, told me to get away immediately, speaking bullshit about bullsnakes “are dangerous.” I picked up the snake, brought it to the edge of the woodland, skipped the beginning of after-lunch classes.

And everywhere in this lot, a multitude of spiders. A lot of jumping spiders, some massive, some very colorful. I folded some pages of blank white “printer paper” in half and drew my own “Jumping Spider field guide” and made photocopies. I used colored pencils, tried to draw each kind of jumping spiders. I had no idea which species most of them were. I think it was my second stupid homemade field guide after a “snakes of the Rocky Mountains” booklet.

Why jumping spiders? That year, settling into a residential neighborhood nearby, I went into the shed for the first time, off in a shaded corner of the shared yard. No one ever went in there. For any reason. Don’t know why. I opened the door:

Scene from a nightmare. Indeed, in years since, I did have dreams about that shed. (Not really nightmares, but more like auspicious and ominous dreams, you know?) It was late summer, but the shed was dark, almost unbelievably shaded from the sun. Like it was enchanted, meant to be dark. I of course loved spiders but I wasn’t prepared for this.

It was like a curiosity cabinet, like a museum. Like some animate sentient curator had purposefully decided to showcase as many different kinds of spiders as possible, to showcase the largest spiders possible. There were black widows, but I loved them, and understood them to be pleasant and unthreatening. But the size of these wolf spiders? Intimidating. There were orb-weavers, too. Big brown spiders retreated from the light, across the floorboards, they were physically reminiscent of tarantulas. (Maybe they were related to tarantulas, which were not unknown in the region.) But what shocked me most were the jumping spiders. The jumping spiders drew your attention most. I didn’t know they could be that large. And their dazzling colors? Bright red juxtaposed with black banding. Bright orange with black spots. Bright blues, glittering purples. Your eye was drawn simultaneously in every direction. Spiders in every corner.

It was a treasure chest. This is going to sound silly but: It was a treasure chest of spiders, some literally sparkling with iridescence.

--

Later. I was about 11 years old, different region, different landscape, and the city was gentrifying my neighborhood. There was an “empty lot” that was actually more like remnant prairie. Prickly-pear, rattlesnakes, toads, meadowlarks. It was being turned into cookie-cutter prefashioned homes.

The most ubiquitous species? Ground squirrels. “Whistle-pigs.” People would bludgeon them, fire BB guns from lawn chairs, laughing as they dropped explosive fireworks into the burrows. Casual violence. Like a sport. Adults encouraged children to take lives as if it were akin to skipping stones or playing board games.

The whistle-pigs slowly dwindled. The local human residents, and their children, were slowly doing the work of the developers: Killing. Paving the way.

As the rodents died, every single abandoned ground squirrel burrow had a web stretched across the entrance. All of them: Black widows.

My impression of black widows had always been: Graceful. Dignified.

When the bulldozers came, I tried to save them. A parental figure was passively supportive. My bedroom was adorned with 25 or so glass jars. Black widows in each. A terrarium: a small toad, rescued from the manicured lawns and developers. (I don’t like moving or keeping wild amphibians, but the toad had nowhere to go and was being eyed threateningly by neighborhood boys who “toyed” with animals.)

One day, dozens of tiny pale black widow babies were pouring out of the lid of one of the jars, a mass of fragile spider bodies pulsating on the desk. And I realized the spiders should probably be set loose. And they were, in the backyard. I don’t know how many of them lived, or for how long. The toad was released back into the neighborhood. (No fertilizers, not an entirely inhospitable habitat.) I saw her again only once.

I don’t know what happened to any of them.

----

The next spring, a community center a couple of blocks away, on the edge of town, was trying to drain a “bog” next to their building. The last place in the neighborhood where you heard the frogs and toads singing. It was a vernal pool that regularly collected water in the spring. Reliably, every year. Gartersnakes used the pool. But the real star, the real center of attention: the chorus frogs. I spoke with the people who owned the building. Later, I tried arguing with one of the owners or managers or whatever, the week that the contractors and the heavy equipment showed up. They laughed at me and threatened to call the cops. I kicked a rock at their building and took a cattail as a keepsake.

On one of the last days that the vernal pool existed, I was riding my bike over there. I found a gartersnake, dead, flattened on the road. One of my parents died later that year.

Before the apocalypse at the vernal pool, when I felt empty, in the evening, I would get on a bike, and go there. I’d sit in the mud in the reeds on the edge of the pool and watch the chorus frog tadpoles swimming. Dragonflies disappeared as the evening darkened. On some very special days, late in the spring, when the water was almost gone and the days were longer, you might be lucky enough to see a spadefoot toad. The insects and frogs and snakes were fleeting, they had habits and picky preferences. But there was one constant presence, always there, until the redevelopment, even after the frogs sang for the last time.

Fisher spiders, everywhere, navigating through the reeds, walking on the water. Always the spiders, until the end.

#navel gazing #overwrought nonsense

[wolffyluna]

Fic Writer Meme

 I was tagged by @thou-breath-of-autumns-being and @eldritch-elrics. Answers under the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

135

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

387198

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

There’s 22 of them, using a sensible-ish count. There’s Age of Sigmar, MCU, Dragon Age, Dragonshield (yes, the card sleeves), Dungeons and Dragons, Fire Emblem Awakening, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Guild Wars 2, Warhammer 40k, Heaven Will Be Mine, We Know The Devil, Keychain of Creation, Overwatch, Revolutionary Girl Utena, The Adventure Zone, The Magnus Archives, Silmarillion, Undertale, Voltron, TGCF, MDZS, Nirvana in Fire

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

‘The Heat Talking’ - Overwatch omegaverse. It’s popularity is very explicable :P.

‘A Stained Glass Variation of The Truth’ - Xianle Trio sickfic, featuring Mu Qing have a lot of feelings about looking after Xie Lian. This is one of the ones where I look at it’s popularity and go “[nods] my audience has Good Taste.”

‘Let Bastion Say ‘Fuck’‘ - Overwatch crackfic. I wrote for Overwatch a while ago. Those fics are very much not my best work. And Yet.

‘though shadows fall’ - TGCF HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort. (which reminds me, I should really write some HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort where Hua Cheng is the one who has a nightmare.)

‘All That Can Be Done’ - Overwatch Genyatta angst featuring Zenyatta dying of a God AI virus.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, I really do, but... if I reply, the comment no longer shows up on the ao3 homepage. I do intend to reply, but the lure of having comments on my homepage wins out most times.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably either ‘All That Can Be Done’, the aforementioned fic where Zenyatta dies of a God AI virus and gets killed by Genji, or ‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ where Sazed successfully poisons and kills Taako.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t really write much crossover fanfiction?

...Though I am right now doing an rp featuring a character from a historical tv show set in the Tang dynasty accidentally time travelling into an AU version of the Handmaid’s Tale, so, uh, that’s probably the wildest crossover I’ve been involved in.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I’ve received a few “you’re characterisation is bad and you should feel bad” and “how dare you write something to your tastes and not my tastes!”

‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ got a... bad reaction. Including a popular blogger vague posting about in a way that made it obvious exactly what fic it is and how grody they found it. They may not have linked the fic directly, but, uh, everyone knew. (And I may have also sent an ill-advised ask along the lines of ‘you have the right to vagueblog whatever fic you like, but for the love of peace could you at least check who is following you, so you don’t put ‘oh god, isn’t this fic the creepiest thing ever?’ straight onto the dash of the author?”  And also a chunk of the TAZ fandom blocked me*.

And then several years later I found out ‘snuff’ meant something different than what I thought it meant (I thought it just meant ‘focus on major character death!) which added an embarassing glace cherry on top of that sundae of bad.

*This became sort of funny when some of these people got into the Magnus Archives. “Oh, so you draw the line at graphic depictions of poisoning, but someone exploding into a shower of worms is fine???”

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do, yes. As for what kind-- well, my ao3 exists and is a relatively comprehensive survey.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nooooot to my knowledge?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone wants to-- [makes ‘call me’ gesture].

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not yet. I’d be potentially interested in doing one, maybe one of those ones where one person writes one chapter and then another person writes the next. At the moment I have a friend who is also interested in maybe doing that, we just don’t currently align on fandoms.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

[whine] Don’t make me choose between my babies!

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

‘A Shattered Angel And A Broken Fist’. It was one of the earlier fics I wrote, back before I learned that if I wanted to write something long, I needed to have an idea of how it was going to end. I lost momentum and now... I honestly have no clue what should happen next? I have re-read and gone “yep, some stuff should happen. Not sure what stuff.” So while a lot of people like it and it would be nice to finish, its probably not happening.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, I think I’m reasonably good at dialogue? I’m honestly not sure what my strengths are. I don’t mean this in a low self confidence way, more that I know I don’t have an outside perspective on my writing, and like a fish, I’m not super aware of the water I’m swimming in.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a bad habit of people have conversation in Blank Windowless Voids of No Description.

I also have a less bad habit of trying to fill those voids with a) geology and b) Australian fauna and flora. This causes problems when the pov character has no reason to know geology, and the story is not set in Australia.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I am one of those people who pretty much only speaks English, except for the a bit of “Je m’appelle Wolffy. Le chat est petit.” So I don’t write dialogue in other languages. Too much risk of embarrassing error, for not much gain, when you can just use italics or something.

I do have a lot of thoughts about translation conventions in fic where the characters would not be speaking English, and things like whether to live honoriffics. The thoughts are a bit unformed, but mostly revolve around being consistent at least within a fic (no characters being “Your Highness” in one paragraph and “dianxia” the next), trying to avoid the affect you sometimes find in anime fics were every third word is in Japanese, and also trying to maintain character voice. (I occaisionally have moments of “yes, there is an English translation for what this character calls this other character, but it’s not what they canonically say and it’s going to bother me deeply if I only use English.”)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Depending on how you define ‘fandom’ and how you draw the line between historical fiction and historical rpf, my first fandom was the Bagoas fandom. Not the Bagoas what followed Alexander the Great around, no, the vizier who was around before him.

...I was like twelve at the time, just to make this weirder.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

[whines harder] don’t make me pick between my babies!

#premium original content #wolffy writes fic

[desperationandgin]

Deep As The Sea Goes: Cellist Part 2

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: Ao3

Summary: Nothing but happiness. Happiness and smut.

A/N: Nothing much to say here except for 2 things. 1) I made my own mood board for the first time, the training wheels are still engaged. 2) My betas have been nothing short of incredible, and this fic is dedicated to them ♥

Deep As The Sea Goes

Drunk isn’t quite what Claire would consider herself. She isn’t as innocent as tipsy, either. She’s somewhere in between; nicely buzzed, a little faster to laugh, most assuredly handsier. As Jamie (who’s as inebriated as she is) guides her around the corner to her flat, an idea occurs to her that never has on any previous walk in the past month. It’s dark; he’s strong, she’s safe, and there’s a small dead-end lined with recycling bins just around the corner from her building. The fact that it’s only 8 degrees outside does little to dissuade her once the idea comes to fruition.

The alley is deep enough that the long shadows of night would mask any activity, and with a wicked grin, she pauses right there on the sidewalk, looking up at her (as shouted earlier in introduction for the first time in a crowded pub) boyfriend.

“I already ken that look in yer eye,” Jamie comments in recognition, raising a curious brow. When she begins to tug at his hand, he realizes where she’s tugging him, and now both eyebrows are in on the action.

“Yer flat is right there, I can see it.” When she pouts, her bottom lip juts out in a way that begs to be kissed, and his already meager resolve wavers. In order to have his kiss, he has to follow her, like a seaman lured in by a Siren.

“My flat will be there afterward, too,” she offers coyly.

“So, ye’re sayin’ ye have plans for me?” he queries, even as her back presses against brick and his fingers push up the hem of her skirt, blunt nails grazing her skin in a feather-light, goosebump-inducing touch.

Her own fingers, skilled and nimble, make fast work of his jeans, hand in his boxer-briefs with a satisfied sigh at finding him hard and willing. “I’ve had plans for you since the night of the fundraiser,” she mumbles into his mouth, loosely stroking him as they attempt an inelegant kiss. By the time his hand slips between her thighs, a leg has hooked itself high on his hip, and she lets her hand fall away from him with a keening moan.

“Shhh, a nighean,” he mutters, pushing flimsy fabric aside. His index finger finds her slick enough to drag the moisture back up and press slow but firm circles to that round bundle of nerves. He’s telling her to be quiet, even knowing she isn’t fully capable of it. All of Scotland might very well know what’s happening in this alleyway tonight. Two of his fingers curl into her now, moving in a beckoning motion, coaxing her climax closer to the edge.

What he doesn’t expect is her push at his shoulder, and he stops, blinking in a stupor. “What—?” The one-word question is breathless and concerned, but not for long.

Shoving his jeans and underwear down just enough, her hand grasps his cock by the root before stroking upward. Her mouth swallows his groan, and then they’re working together to get her balanced between the brick and his body. The moment she knows he has her secure, she meets his gaze, her own unwavering.

“I want you now, Jamie. And don’t be gentle,” she gasps, crushing her lips to his as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

He’d be a damned man to say no to that.

It’s all the acknowledgment Jamie needs as he guides himself to her, teasing first by dragging the tip of himself over the slick heat of her, wondering how long either of them could try to hold out.

“Don’t,” she whines, heels digging into his lower back. “Don’t tease, Jamie, not out here.”

She’s right, for more than one reason to be sure, so he presses into her slowly. He watches himself disappear inside of her, and once he’s buried, feels one hand on the back of his head, tugging at curls to get him to look at her.

The only sound in the alley is the sound of them, coming together in a punishing rhythm. His eyes, narrowed to slits, are still focused on her in the dim light. He can tell that her lips are parted, plump and still damp from their kiss. The lone, dim streetlamp is enough to catch the way her forehead knits as her pleasure mounts its peak. She begins to tighten around him, and the immediate warmth is enough to make his hips stutter out of rhythm.

“Oh, Christ. Oh, Claire.”

There’s nothing but encouragement from her; feeling him, the warmth of him spilling inside of her is enough. She doesn’t stop her assault, and when he buries his face against her neck, her fingers tangle in his hair. He comes, and she sees bursts of brilliant color behind closed eyelids as her pleasure turns everything into pinpricks of sensation.

The slight breeze against sweat-cooled skin makes her shiver, unaware of how much time has passed by the time she can open her eyes again.

He comes back to reality quicker than she does, aware of the chill and the fact that they could still be chanced upon by someone.

“Jesus Christ, ‘tis January in the middle of the night and ye’re in a skirt.”

His abrupt statement makes her laugh, loudly and uncaring of who might hear. When her legs feel stronger than Jell-O, Claire lowers herself, admitting aloud that the loss of him causes the cold to cut a bit deeper.

“I’m sure you have ideas on how to warm me up,” she suggests, carefully tucking him back into his jeans and zipping him.

Jamie grunts, finally taking a chance and looking around, not noticing any unwanted attention. “I’ve one or two, perhaps. Why? Did ye have one of yer own?”

Her hand reaches for his as they finally step back onto the more brightly lit sidewalk. “I was thinking a warm shower for two wouldn’t be so bad.” She needs it now, realizing the lack of a space to clean up was a (definite but perhaps trivial) downside to outdoor sex.

He lets her walk ahead, no more than twenty paces to the front steps, admiring her from behind for a moment before joining her. “No, I dinnae think that would be too terrible,” he agrees, arms wrapping around her from behind as she unlocks the door.

Grinning, she lets them inside, Sesh at the ready to greet them. Rubbing against Claire first, then Jamie, she decides she doesn’t care to visit much, giving a soft meow before trotting off toward the living room.

“She doesna like me, I’m tellin’ ye.”

Laughing, Claire uses him for balance as she reaches down to remove first one heel, then the other. “She does. Sesheshet’s just a little...anxiety prone when more than one person’s around. She’ll get used to you.”

Once she’s steady on her feet again, he follows her to the bedroom, already intimately familiar with the path. She lives closer to the station than he does, and so they’d come to an arrangement, not two weeks in: a key to her home securely on a keychain next to his. Falling into her bed after his longer stretches of work feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Ye never did tell me, what does her name mean?”

Flipping on the light in her bedroom reveals things to be neat and orderly; a bit scant on decoration, but obviously her refuge; blankets are piled in a basket near the nightstand, and a deep reading chair sits in the corner near the window with pillows on the floor nearby. Claire disappears into the bathroom, raising her voice to be heard.

“Sesheshet was the mother of a Pharaoh, King Teti. My uncle discovered her pyramid in 2008.” He hears her turn on the shower so that the water can have time to warm. When she returns to the bedroom, she pulls her shirt over her head, draping it across the back of a chair. “He died before her sarcophagus was found, so he never did get to see her.”

Jamie reaches out, still learning the odd bits and pieces of her life. Drawing her close, he kisses her wrist before reaching around and unhooking her bra.

“Were ye with him at the site?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck now. One arm loops around her waist, drawing her close.

“Until it was too much for him to be there.”

The lung cancer had been swift and fierce, and Claire sighs softly, kissing Jamie’s shoulder. “And that is how Sesh got her fancy name.”

He can sense the need for a change in subject. Jamie knows the topic of her uncle is still a raw wound, even twelve years later. Lamb had helped raise her, a brother doing his duty by stepping up and helping his sister-in-law. His death had left Claire bereft; it had been quick on the heels of her mother’s. Instead of pushing the subject further, Jamie’s hands tangle in her hair as he kisses her briefly, then pulls back.

“A verra fancy name for a cat who indelicately licks her arsehole right in front of me while I’m eating,” Jamie notes. “She’s done it twice now, so ye cannae tell me it isna personal.”

Barking out a laugh, Claire moves back so they can both finish undressing, then steps into the warmth of the shower.

“You’ll just have to be here more often, I suppose,” she decides, standing directly under the water with her back to Jamie’s chest.

“Oh? Is that an invitation, Sassenach?” His nose drags slowly along the shell of her ear, but when she goes still and doesn’t say anything, he’s sure he’s misstepped, pushed her too fast, too soon.

“Would you accept if it had been?” Turning to face him, she studies Jamie intently, aware that his features never betray what he’s thinking, but attempting to puzzle him out anyway.

“Aye, I would, wi’ out a moment’s hesitation,” he assures her, leaving no room for doubt. “But ye’d have to tell me it’s what ye want, Claire.” He traces his thumb over her bottom lip, humming when she presses a kiss to the pad.

Reaching out, she trails one finger idly down his chest, her gaze focused there now. “You already have a key, on account of my being impatient to see you.” There are days she very much enjoys seven a.m. Lately, he’s been showering at the station, letting himself into her flat, and crawling into bed with her, curling his body around hers. Most of those mornings they make love, lazily and half-asleep, but too eager for one another to wait any longer.

“Is it too soon?” The moment she asks, she knows his answer. Jamie is anything but subtle in his want for her to be near, as often as possible.

“A nighean, I would have moved in wi’ ye on Christmas Day if you’d’ve had me. Though, there’s something ye should ken before ye decide anything,” he murmurs, moving his hands to her hips and turning her so that her back is against the shower wall.

A knot of arousal coils in her stomach, able to feel the intent of his movements in every tightly wound muscle of his body. “What?” Her voice sounds slightly hoarse and she clears her throat, wetting her lips.

Slipping a hand between her thighs, Jamie slowly grazes the tip of one finger around still-tender nerves. When she whimpers, it cuts through him like a knife and goes straight to his cock.

“My own rental agreement ends on the fifth of March. Didna renew it on the chance this would happen.”

Her eyes, which had previously fallen closed at his touch, snap open in surprise. “You knew I would ask you to move in with me?”

Jamie chuckles, kissing her softly before deciding her neck is just as deserving of his lips.

“No, but I hoped. Truthfully, I’ve wanted to move out of that area for a while. Lacked the proper motivation, ye ken.”

Claire’s head tilts, her eyes closing once more. “And now? Where would you say your motivation ranks?”

For a moment, he’s too busy calling up a mark just under her neck before soothing it with his tongue, soaking up her whimper as both hands slide up her body to cup her breasts. The soft, slick skin of her is irresistible, and he can’t help ducking his head further to drag his lips along the curve of her shoulder

“I’ll be moved in by tomorrow evenin’, if ye’ll have me, Sassenach.”

Her response is immediate and breathless, a gasped I’ll have you just before his left hand disappears again between her thighs. She’s already decided that he can lay claim to her body any time he wants, and she’s not sure she would ever find it in herself to deny him. He can build her up, bring her to the precipice so exquisitely fast, or draw out her pleasure until she begs. Claire never feels as though she’s breathing when he’s intent on undoing her, can never find a single thought.

It’s no different now as his fingers work her over as if he’s known her body for millennia; a countless amount of lifetimes to learn every intimate part of her. With her fingers scrambling over the scarred terrain of his back, she finally finds her grip and holds on, digging into his shoulders with her fingernails before easing off as pleasure prickles up and down her spine. Head falling back against the tile, Claire pushes her hips into his hand, greedily seeking more even as the pleasure leaves her gasping.

She doesn’t realize he’s moved until his mouth is right beside her ear. His fingers have mostly stopped, his thumb just lightly grazing nerves that are taut with stimulation.

“I mean to belong to ye. To have ye keep my heart beside yours.” His thumb circles faster, words more intent. “And I’ll possess yer soul, Sassenach, to carry wi’ me, always.” On the heels of one climax comes another, and as she cries out, his eyes rake over her face, taking in the blush of her cheeks and the specific way her lips part when she’s struggling for breath. He can’t resist pressing his mouth to hers, breathing her in before wrapping both arms fully around her.

They stand like that, a lover’s embrace mid-shower, until Claire finally reaches for the soap and lazily lathers her hands, washing him before taking her turn. They say nothing to one another, stealing soft kisses, touching leisurely until their fingertips are shriveled. Jamie simply steps out once the water is off and holds out a towel for her, wrapping her up and kissing her forehead for his service. The pleasant buzz of the evening has worn off into an even more pleasant sleepiness, and once suitably dry, they tumble into bed, no need for clothing.

“Ye introduced me as yer boyfriend to yer friends,” Jamie finally says, breaking the comfortable silence.

Claire tilts her head up to look at him with an amused smirk. “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“Aye, just that it sounds so….”

“Grade school?”

He chuckles, rolling against her side and nudging against the side of her breast. “I verra much enjoy bein’ yer boyfriend, Sassenach. Would ye go to the dance wi’ me?”

Claire laughs, hitting his shoulder before being pulled into a kiss. “How could I have resisted?” she asks into his mouth before humming at the feel of his hips slowly rolling against hers. One leg settles over his to accommodate, both of them shifting closer, foreheads touching.

“What is it between us?” she asks quietly, closing her eyes as her hips pick up his rhythm, rocking back and forth. “Why is it so easy?”

“That’s the way it is,” Jamie begins, reaching down to guide himself into her with a soft groan. For a few heartbeats, he stays exactly the way he is, not moving except to speak. “When two people are meant to be wi’ one another, well. Love becomes an easy thing, then.” He finishes his statement with a kiss, one hand disappearing into her hair.

With her fingers dragging along Jamie’s cheek, Claire meets his gaze, feeling the truth settle over her at the same time any guilt about loving again dissipates.

“It’s never been this easy before.”

Jamie realizes what she’s said and takes her words, tucking them carefully beside his heart. Carefully, he pushes her to her back, leaning down as far as he can without crushing her.

“I promise to never make it difficult for ye, Claire,” he whispers, lips trailing along the long line of her throat. “I’ll only love ye and no’ ask for anything in return.”

She’s too breathless to speak, every thrust eliciting a sharp cry as her back arches. But when she manages to open her eyes, she finds his gaze and holds it until she can’t.

This time when she shatters, he comes with her, panting against her cheek as he spills. It’s too much to hold himself up, so he drops to the side, pulling her — still gasping — right on top of him. His arms wrap around her body tightly, shaking, hot, but unwilling to be parted from her. As his fingers take a short trail up and down her shoulder, he finds a small scar from the accident, the pad of his finger making a home there, drawing soft circles. When he can’t stand it anymore, he leans up to press his lips against the mark, as if to make it disappear.

Claire burrows closely against him, in no rush to lose the warmth of the moment, either. Her own hands aren’t idle; she drags the back of one slowly up his body with all the patience of drawing out a long, low note on a cello string. She feels his shiver and finishes with her fingers buried in his curls.

Drifting, she’s lulled by his knuckles raking slowly up and down her spine, focused on the sound of his heart beating. It’s strong and sure, and she raises her head just enough to press a delicate kiss against his chest. When his fingers tug gently at the hair behind her ear, she scoots up until her mouth meets his. Tongues unhurriedly glide over one another, and they eventually reposition themselves so that he can hold her while they sleep.

“Tonight was a good night,” she murmurs, eyes closed with one arm splayed across him.

Jamie makes a noise low in the back of his throat, one that means he agrees, as his arms tighten around her.

“One of many nights I intend to have wi’ ye.”

Exhaling, Claire manages to mumble a few final words before succumbing to sleep.

“I’m holding you to that, Jamie.”

Once she relaxes into sleep, he lets his lips graze her forehead, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, her tea tree oil-infused body wash, and a hint of jasmine beneath it all. His heart feels too big for his chest and not big enough to be worthy of her at the same time.

Christ, he loves this woman.

His last thought as his mind shuts down is that he’ll be proposing to her by the end of the year.

October.

Jamie smiles in his sleep, drifting off to the promise of his future, held secure in his arms.

#outlander fic #outlander #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #the cellist #deep as the sea goes #my fic

[lazywitchling]

Dabbler’s Week - research proposal edition

I say “Research proposal” because this isn’t so much going to be what I’d ACTUALLY use as a guide, it’s just the STRUCTURE I’d use to write the guide, and why I chose what I did. For a little background on what the hell is going on, see @asksecularwitch‘s post here.

Monday - Spellwork

What: A simple candle-and-petition-paper spell. Dabbler chooses what they want, but with the instruction that it is straightforward, specific, and tangible. The Drake-Meme format would be: “I want to increase my wealth” ✋ - “I want ten bucks in the coming week” 👈 The spell is written out exactly as performed, really hand-holdy, Do This, Then This, Next This, Finally This.

Why: Look, if I were brand new and gonna pick a “dabble in witchcraft for a week” thing, I’d want to start out doing some effin’ witchcraft. So we’ll start with casting a spell. It’s written super hand-holdy because at the beginning, you really just want some step-by-step instructions on what to do. Also a week is a good time frame to give a spell, and casting it at the beginning gives it a chance to manifest by the end of the week. And FURTHERMORE, it’s a surprise tool that will help us later...

Tuesday - Cleansing a Space

What: Dabbler picks out a space to cleanse, told that the space they choose will be made into a sacred space tomorrow. They will play music of their choosing (with a few suggestions to get them started, just so nobody’s floundering, aka “relaxing yoga music, or something loud and peppy, your favorite childhood song, a meme song that makes you laugh, etc.”) while they also mundanely clean the space.

Why: Cleansing is one of those Cornerstone Witchy Things that everyone talks about offhandedly, like “cleanse your space after this spell”, and giving the Dabbler a simple way of doing that is a good first tool to have in their bag. Music is freely available, and it’s customizable, and playing music while doing a mundane cleaning associates the Magical Cleaning with the Mundane Cleaning in their mind, so they get a sense of “clean vibes” as related to “clean space”. Sidenote: the space can be a shelf, a box, a corner of the room, whatever. Might have some notes in there about other things they can add to their cleansing, like the usual magical washes or sprays, lighting a candle, or whatever. Nothing too complicated at this point, though, we’re still taking baby steps.

Wednesday - Creating a Sacred Space

What: The Dabbler picks out items they already have on hand to create a sacred space in the area that was cleansed the day before (the shelf, box, corner, whatever). Sacred here meaning “Set apart; special”, not necessarily “holy; religious”. Dabbler is encouraged to decorate and arrange things until they feel it has the proper vibe.

Why: This is to encourage the Dabbler to think about the mundane things around their own home, and how those things can be magical just by Deciding That They Are. The idea is not necessarily to create an Altar, though it can also work as practice for that should the Dabbler later choose to have one. In my own practice, I don’t have a permanent Sacred Space, because it doesn’t really fit what I do or how I live. But I tried making some when I first started, and I think it was an important learning point. Now, when I feel that I DO need a sacred space, I’m able to whip one up with whatever is around, and I think that’s a great skill to have. It’s helpful to know and feel what “Sacred” or “Special” feels like to the individual, what it takes for you to really vibe with a space or setting. My spaces are more about reining in my hyperactive brain and creating a boundary for it to focus on, not about creating a holy circle of ground, but I know what that distinction feels like BECAUSE of the times I dabbled in creating sacred spaces. This is when your brain gets to learn what It’s Witchin’ Time feels like.

Thursday - Herbal Correspondences

What: The Dabbler goes to their own kitchen or garden and picks out three spices, herbs, and/or flowers (that they 100% know what they are). At this point, it isn’t necessary to actually gather them, just to write down what is easily accessible at that moment. They then check out the Wikipedia article on their chosen herbs, and build their own correspondence list from that article.

Why: “Whoa whoa whoa, Jes, why are you suggesting Wikipedia??” Oh easy. Because it’s accessible, it’s free, and it’s not witchy. Wikipedia gets a bad rap as a resource for a variety of reasons, but for what it does, it does well. It’s an encyclopedia, so it is by nature a surfacey resource. That’s okay. That’s all we need right now. Instead of googling magical correspondences of cinnamon and finding 1000+ lists that all copied from a copy of a copy of a copy of Crowley and then not knowing WHY that thing has that correspondence, the Dabbler is going to learn to make their own by starting a (very basic) relationship with that herb. Example: I was trying to research magical correspondences of base oils, but everything I found was one-word answers, most of which was “fertility”. Which was... entirely not helpful. So I set out to make my own. Specific example: I looked into castor oil (according to “magickal” sources, it’s correspondence is simply “protection”), but my mundane research taught me that it’s been used for hydraulic and brake fluids, used in food preservation, sold as a laxative, and historically has been used as torture and humiliation (with the laxative effect, I’m sure you can figure out exactly how). Well NOW we’re getting somewhere, because now I associate it with “getting things moving”, whether in a negative or positive way. Having the Dabbler learn to do mundane research like this helps strengthen their relationship with what they use, teaches them that they can research their own materials without needing another Witch (or an Amazon Lisa) to do it for them, and teaches them that they can use what they have on hand rather than consulting a magical list of things they don’t have and wondering where the hell they’re supposed to buy white willow bark.

Friday - Divination

What: The Dabbler will gather small trinkets that they already have and collect them in a box or bag. They then ask questions (possibly with the aid of a list of suggested questions?) and draw a trinket (or cast a couple, if they’re feeling adventurous!) and interpret.

Why: I love Tarot as much as the next witch, but it’s not always practical for the starting witch. And in my experience, I can be dragged just as hard by my trinkets as I can by my traditional tarot decks. Gathering trinkets is (again, as you’re starting to see a theme, I hope) a way to use what is already on hand. And after the Wikipedia exercise from the previous day, the Dabbler should have a little bit of practice in thinking about associations. The action figure their nephew left at their house can mean “lost” but it can also mean “found”, or it’s Spiderman and means “responsibility” or Wonder Woman means “truth”, etc.

Saturday - Crafting a Charm

What: The Dabbler will create a simple charm (most likely a protective one, but I’m not married to the idea). They’ll use their own skills to hand make something tangible, however simple it may be. Could be crafting a keychain using their beading skills, or embroidering a small design onto their jeans pocket, or as simple as wrapping a colored thread around a ring they wear. Whatever it is, it will be a thing that they make with their hands.

Why: We’re falling away from the railroad guidelines at this point in the week, and encouraging the Dabbler to start thinking on their own about what they can do. There’s still suggestions so they don’t get totally lost, but it’s far less hand-holdy than the first spell of the week. With two whole exercises about thinking through associations of things, hopefully they can start to come to conclusions on their own (”You know, I think I’ll hang a safety pin from the keychain, because that just Feels Right to me” or “This string should be blue, because that’s the color of my protective gloves at work”). And the second purpose of the charm is... it’s a tangible thing. It’s a souvenir. If at the end of the week the Dabbler decides that they had fun but witchcraft isn’t for them, cool. But maybe three years down the line, they find that keychain they made during Witch Camp Week, and they think “Oh hey, I remember doing that...” and perhaps it comes to them at exactly the time they need it and they decide to pick it up again. (Or they find it and go “lol that wasn’t for me” and chuck it in the trash. Failure is always an option!)

Sunday - Spellwork Redux

What: Get in losers, we’re casting the same spell again. Well, not the SAME spell, but the same sort. That candle spell from the beginning of the week? The Dabbler will now repeat it with similar purpose. BUT, this time they are to modify the spell somehow. Even less guidelines here now. Maybe they want to perform the spell in their sacred space. Maybe they want to cleanse before performing it. Maybe they want to sprinkle some herbs on the candle, or steep some herbs in hot water and use a brush to write on the paper. Whatever they do is theirs to decide.

Why: EXPERIMENTATION. Really, how often do any of us see a cool spell and then perform it EXACTLY AS WRITTEN? I don’t know about you, but I always always always have to modify it somehow, whether it’s to fit what I have, fit my paradigm, or just because personalization is important in my craft. Redoing the spell with a little bit of tweaking means the Dabbler gets to close off the week with a little more of that Witches Casting Spells stuff that they probably expected, but with a chance to see how they can change it now, how they can make it more suited to them, or how they think it might work better. Maybe it will work better. Maybe it will be worse. Either way is a result.

Conclusion - or the TL;DR

Guidelines at the beginning of the week, transitioning to more creative freedom by the end of the week. Heavy encouragement of using what’s freely on hand and easily accessible, rather than buying specialty materials that may or may not be helpful or ever used again (not to mention could be hella expensive). Some spells, because let’s be honest, some people just really really want the spellz. And mundane research, because it’s too often neglected even among the veteran witches.

#long post #dabbler's week #asksecularwitch

[twilightknight17]

...today, on P5S...

...

Honestly, I talk a lot of shit about P5′s writing sometimes. Atlus made some exceptionally questionable writing choices in places. But one thing that P5 absolutely gets right is invoking the sort of emotion that draws you into the story.

With that said!

P5 is determined to make me want to stab actual human beings instead of Shadows. This is the second time now!

But first, I’ve got a boss fight to do.

Doing the mech part of Konoe’s boss fight again, it was actually easier the second time. I had a much better grasp of what I was doing, instead of flailing around frantically.

Konoe himself was still just as hard, but ultimately he was easier than Shadow Joker because it wasn’t a one-on-one duel. He still beat my ass, though; I think I used all of my rescue pills.

Once he goes down, Konoe starts going on about justice.

Don’t call me by my name like we’re friends. We never even introduced ourselves.

It’s interesting, because they admit to Konoe that what they’re doing isn’t without its flaws. But a world where no one can think for themselves is meaningless.

Konoe acknowledges that in his quest to eliminate evil, he ended up being the evil one. He also admits that he was the one who killed his father. He calls that “evil” too, which I don’t actually agree with. We saw what his father was like in the Trauma Cell. His father killed his mother, physically abused him, and threatened to kill him. I think, in that case, killing his father is a rational end result for someone in that situation. Not evil, just desperation.

The Thieves don’t contradict him, though. Just make some comments about how now he can make up for his actions. His Shadow returns to his real self, the Thieves return to the real world, and Zenkichi promises that as soon as they take Konoe in and get his confession, he’s going to arrest Owada, too.

With the case closed, the Thieves decide that it’s time to go back to Tokyo. But not before one last night in Osaka. The idea of leaving makes Sophia anxious, though, because she feels like she hasn’t learned enough about the heart. But Akira and Morgana reassure her that she can still stay with them, even after they return to Tokyo, and they’ll keep looking for answers about who she is.

Sometimes a family is a guy, a cat, and one of the guy’s four younger sisters. ^_^

Tenboto is the tower, and the game asks you to invite someone to the top. However, this time, you can only invite either the group of girls or the group of boys, so I took the boys, since I took Haru on the ferris wheel before.

Morgana isn’t pleased that we didn’t invite Ann.

However, I really don’t see the problem.

Look at how he’s looking at Yusuke! Even Ryuji can tell that we’re having a moment. :D

Afterwards, the whole squad headed off to “Universaland” to celebrate together.

I had no idea that there was a Universal Studios in Japan, but apparently there is, and it is in fact in Osaka! They compared it to their trip to Destinyland the year before, but thankfully this one went a lot better. Everyone had a good time! We had so much soda! We were so hungover the nex--what.

...what is it with Persona characters getting drunk off soda? XD I hope you kids at least played the King’s Game so the hangover wasn’t in vain.

Zenkichi shows up to let them know that Konoe’s in custody. He thanks them for everything that they’ve done, for both Akane and him, and says he’s telling them goodbye for now, but they’re welcome to visit whenever they want. He promises a tour of Kyoto next time. Yusuke will be so happy!

After hours on the road, lamenting that vacation is coming to an end, Sophia suggests detouring to Yokohama for a fireworks festival. So the Thieves finally get to see fireworks, and Sophia gets to experience them, too.

........don’t make me go home yet. I just want to spend time with my friends without the world ending.

After the fireworks, you get to speak to each of your friends, and get a trinket from each of them. Ann gives you a handmade friendship bracelet, Makoto a phantom thieves keychain that Akane made, Ryuji a Feather Red Duke mask to match his Yellow Ostrich, Yusuke his sketchbook that he filled with pictures of the trip, Morgana a scarf in phantom thief colors, Sophia a pair of custom gloves to match the scarf, Haru a teaspoon from Hokkaido with a flower pattern that symbolizes familial love, and Futaba a good luck charm for keeping families together.

STOP, P5S, you’re going to make me cry. Let these kids stay close.

Right before they’re about to leave, they take a group picture for Sophia, which we don’t get to see. Which sucks. But then she realizes that she can smell a Jail, and Zenkichi calls in a panic. It’s never a good sign when someone calls and leads with “Are you watching the news?”

EMMA’s servers were shut down, but apparently reactivated, and now a Jail is covering Tokyo all the way to the outskirts of Yokohama, and it’s just getting bigger. Zenkichi promises to meet us, and Lavenza opens a Velvet door because she wants to talk.

She’s... legitimately unnerved.

Thank you, P5S, for giving me the opportunity to comfort my youngest sister in some small way. Now let me out of this cell so I can actually give her a hug. With the context from Royal that she has actual nightmares about being ripped apart, this is heartbreaking.

She says that she regrets that she has to keep asking us for help, but the dialogue options let you reassure her that you’ll handle it, and that there’s thinking to worry about.

I appreciate having dialogue to actually reassure her more than I probably should.

Now...

LAST WARNING

If you’ve been reading along and don’t want the finale spoiled, DO NOT GO PAST THIS POINT. As soon as we leave for central Tokyo, we’re going 90mph and not slowing down.

If I didn’t have work in the morning, I’d have finished this damn game tonight. X’‘‘D Curse being a responsible adult.

After leaving the Velvet Room, Zenkichi’s waiting at the RV, and when you enter the RV, that’s when you get the warning above.

So we are off to Tokyo to figure out what the heck is happening with EMMA. And the core location is, exactly like I wanted...

LET’S CLIMB TOKYO TOWER, BABY.

People are crowded around the tower like mindless cultists. The Thieves are confused and unnerved, and then EMMA activates the navigation on its own and flings them into the Metaverse. LET’S SEE WHAT’S UP THIS TOWER.

...oh.

......oh no...

Ohhhhhhh no this is Mementos. Why is this Mementos. This is not a tower. Oh god. Why this.

Oh, we are incredibly fucked, what is this.

EMMA says calls itself the “Ark of the Covenant and the guide for all mankind.” This fucking AI thinks it’s a god. Holy hell. Human cognition really needs to cool it with elevating ordinary things to god status. We’re so tired. X’D

......I FUCKING KNEW THAT I DIDN’T TRUST THIS WOMAN. OH MY GOD.

She goes off about how EMMA brought her into this world to help it become a god. How Konoe teaching EMMA about cognitive psience allowed it to pass the usual boundaries of AI. How EMMA has been manipulating Konoe all along. How EMMA’s going to fulfill all of humanity’s desires.

Ichinose-san, may I suggest that you go hang out with Maruki? He has too much heart, and you have none. You’d complement each other perfectly, and then I can shove you both off a building.

The kids, obviously, reject this bullshit.

Logic over emotion, to the point of utter ridiculousness. She complains that people always want solutions to their problems, but that when the solution is offered, they turn it down.

Maybe that’s because your solution is mind control. At least Maruki wasn’t flagrantly puppeteering people.

“Li!” you cry, throwing up your hands at me. “Is this it? Is this why you want to stab her? Did you just admit that she’s worse than Maruki?”

To which I answer, “Oh, no. It’s the next bit that makes me want to stab her.”

After she straight-up admits that she has no emotions, she manipulated us right from the start, she was the one spying on the Monarchs, and that all of her cheer and friendliness is an act, the Thieves are ready to fight Ichinose. And Ichinose reveals why EMMA wanted her help specifically. Because not only did she program EMMA, she created Sophia as EMMA’s prototype.

And she can voice-override Sophia.

The Thieves freak out, the game throws us into a battle against a murder-mode Sophie, and none of your teammates will attack her. They just hang back or let her whale on them one at a time, and I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t attack her either, and Yusuke got knocked out...

And then it went into a cutscene.

Joker took a yo-yo to the face and was actually bleeding, and that was enough to snap Sophia out of it. She starts clutching her head, stumbling back, and eventually stumbles right off the edge while apologizing to Joker. He lunges to catch her, misses, Ryuji grabs him, and all the Thieves turn on Ichinose.

Ichinose does not give a shit. She just comments that maybe that’s why EMMA used Sophia as a failsafe, because it knew we wouldn’t want to fight one of our own. Shut the fuck up. You killed my little sister. I know she’s probably going to be fine, but it’s the principle of the thing.

She summons some sort of giant red crystal and blasts the hell out of us, sending us flying down even further into the depths.

We found Sophia; she won’t cut back on, so we have to get out of here so Futaba can figure out what’s wrong with her. And then, I am coming back, I am beating that woman to a pulp, and then...

Well. It’s bound to be easier to kill an artificial god than a false one. :3

#Li plays P5Scramble

[fandom-collective-writers]

Reader x Jihyun Kim {MysMes} - Letters to Heal a Broken Heart

Title: Letters to Heal a Broken Heart Fandom: Mystic Messenger Character: Jihyun Kim Genre: bittersweet? romance Warnings: spoilers for his good ending!  Intended Gender Audience: Neutral Audience  Word Count: 2040 words POV: second person Other comments: no smut but im proud of this! please note that everything with the push back is a letter! i think its pretty clear, but i wanted to make sure it’s understood <3 Written by: @mythiica​ Req: 

Dear –

I’ll admit, it feels a bit strange writing a letter for you, but my therapist recommended it. He told me to explain my emotions with words, saying it would help me become more confident. 

See, the reasoning behind it, at least from what I remember, is that there is no pressure to think quickly. Writing allows a flow, a sense of movement between the words before you pick which one you wish to use. Talking is different because it follows a completely contrasting rhythm. To keep a conversation going, you have to speak rather quickly so the person stays engaged in the topic. 

It’s all really interesting, and my therapist has given me a book over the fundamentals of other practices like this. I read half of it on the plane to Japan. 

To clarify, I’m writing this from my hotel room in Tokyo. I landed a few hours ago and the jet lag has yet to hit me, so I decided to take advantage of this time to write. 

I think you’d like it here – the sakura are in full bloom and I have three days dedicated to photographing the sea of pinks as they ripple in the wind. Until now, I’ve only seen pictures of the famous parks, and I never thought that I would be able to witness them in person. 

I didn’t think I’d

I never conside

Ah, I should mention, I’m not allowed to erase or cross out sentences I start. Another confidence booster? It’s a bit sillier, but it’s meant to force me to say what is on my mind, rather than letting it fester. I’ll try again: 

During my years under Mint Eye, my vision was narrowed, and I had only one duty. However, I am learning to broaden my horizons and expand my mind to encompass everything. The urge to explore bubbles in my chest, waiting for the moment to come out. There are so many chances to do anything, and I’ve got all the time to do all of it. 

I’ve also realized that I went over my word limit. I have to stick to 300 words or under. Confidence booster #3! Express yourself with less words. Take a guess of how many times I’ve opened the thesaurus, looking for better synonyms for words? At least seven times in the past five minutes. It’s crazy! 

For now, I’ll sign this off and try better next time. 

                                                 よりご多幸を祈って

                                                           Jihyun Kim

PS, I’m practicing my Japanese! That says best wishes… I think. 

नमस्कार

Hello and greetings from India! I took a long nap on the plane, and forgot to write. Although I’m only passing through, I ate some delicious food (that I should really try to replicate for you). India is absolutely beautiful – from the sunrises to the bustling markets to the colorful fabrics hung at every corner. I’ll inhale the air and smell six things at once, albeit, not all of them are the best, but I embrace it nonetheless. 

More about what I’ve been doing: funnily enough, my phone died on the bus ride, but I made a new friend named Sunmi, and she was kind enough to lend me her charging cable. Instead of ending the interaction there, we spoke for a few hours at least. I learned she was traveling with her friends on a photography excursion. She gave me all the information, and I’d like to look into it when I have wifi again. 

You wouldn’t believe what they’ve seen! Last year they went to Antarctica through South America. She got to pet a penguin! Apparently the company also takes people to Greenland and New Zealand – some places I’ve been dreaming of visiting since I was a young boy. 

I’ll use my last 100 words to mention that… I’ve gotten a bit homesick. I miss the RFA – well, the people from the RFA minus… 

Don’t tell Jumin about the company though, he’ll insist on flying me around with his private jet. I want to experience for myself. Saeyoung is somehow messaging me when I don’t have service? I don’t… understand. Anyways, I also saw Zen landed a huge international role (someone had a magazine on the plane). Otherwise, I hope Jaehee and Yoosung are well. And Elizabeth the 3rd of course. Send them my wishes. 

I didn’t forget about you though! The keychain you gave me reminds me of home every day. It might have lost an eye, but I found a button and stitched it on. And I also wanted to ask you–

Ah, I’m over again. 

Next time. 

                                                           Jihyun Kim

Iyi günler! I am in Turkey now and actually writing this on a boat. The sun is setting over the horizon, making the sky change colors with every passing minute. It’s breathtaking, but I wish you were here with me. The other passengers and I take turns standing at the front of the boat, and I sometimes linger, trying to take pictures. 

Good news! My vision is getting better. I’ve been taking some Greek herbal remedies, and the seem to be helping. Either that, or they have a wonderful placebo effect. Has that ever happened to you? To think something is working, but you’re just imagining things? 

I apologize, maybe that stirred bad memories for you. 

Back to Turkey: I stepped out of my comfort zone and spent a night camping. Honestly? I was terrified of doing so, but now I want to do it every night. It is the perfect temperature for hiking, even though I am a bit sunburned. 

So many people have been commenting on my hair. Good things mostly, and I started styling it with a bit of gel to keep it out of my eyes. It feels good to look people directly rather than through a curtain. 

What are you up to? Hosting anymore parties? I imagine that you are keeping busy, as always of course. My therapist said it would be best to wait messaging you until I return home. I nearly called you a week ago, but I didn’t want to break my vow. It’s like lying to myself, and I know better than that now. 

Still, it doesn’t stop me from dreaming. 

                                                           Sending love, 

                                                                     J

I’m genuinely angry, but writing to you always calms me. Someone stole my bag – I luckily didn’t have much in it, but your keychain… can you make me a new one please? Now that I don’t have it, it’s almost like I’ve lost a part of you. It hurts a lot, but then I wonder if I am being silly. It’s just a keychain. 

Otherwise, France is nice. I didn’t want to go to Paris, so instead I traveled through the countryside to visit a few wineries. 

Yes, I did… drink a bit, but I wasn’t impaired when my bag was stolen! 

You would laugh at me if I told you what happened, so I will save the story for another time. Before coming to France, I went through Germany and visited some of the most beautiful castles I’ve ever seen. They all looked like they could be straight from a fantasy movie set, and I was convinced one – Neuschwanstein Castle – actually was. 

I’ve barely written anything despite so much happening. 

I got a haircut (finally), because it was becoming a hassle to tie it back at night. 

One evening, I fed some stray cats and they followed me home. 

And a drunk (?) tried to play cards with me. But he didn’t have cards. He was dealing an imaginary deck. 

Other stories will have to wait until I see you again, and I feel better now. It’s okay to be upset, but it won’t hinder my trip any more. 

                                                           Je t'aime, 

                                                                     Jihyun

Alaska doesn’t have a night. 

That’s not exactly true, but it’s basically true. The hotel has special curtains that block the light, and it is only dark for a few hours. 

It has been many miles since I last wrote, but I was caught up in visiting show after event after party after exhibit through America. Their art has given me a new perspective on point of view and emotions, so I hope that the ten camera chips I’ve filled with photographs will be able to convey the same sense of awe. 

I’ve also been mistaken for an idol? Like – multiple times. Interesting to say the least, maybe I’ll say yes to the next person that asks. What should my stage name be? I’ll spare you the embarrassment and not share my ideas. They are all very silly and no one would believe me if I told them my name was Cam Ra. Do you get it? It’s bad, I know. 

I’ll be returning home soon, unless I get distracted or impulsive and go down to California and Hawaii before coming back. I want to – it doesn’t feel right to return just yet. But that doesn’t mean anything about you! 

Really, I think about you and everyone else each day. 

Have you met new people? We’ll exchange so many stories… 

                      ��                                    See you soon, 

                                                                     J K 

You pace around, waiting for the last guest on the list to appear. The party started an hour ago, but he still has not arrived. Then again, it has been three months since anyone heard a whisper from V, and you start to lose hope. Swallowing hard, you remind yourself that V is having a wonderful time exploring the world and finding himself. 

          Taking a handful of your dress, you turn and head through the doors to the main room. Jumin tries to pull Saeyoung away from Longcat, Yoosung explains his most recent surgeries to a group of nurses from his work place, and Jaehee receives many compliments for her majestic cake. 

         Everyone is happy and has moved on. 

         You hope V has too. 

         Maybe all the wishing and praying finally paid off, because you hear his familiar voice calling out behind you. It’s a long shot, but you turn around nonetheless, thinking it is a different guest. 

         Instead, you see Jihyun, wearing the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen, running towards you. He’s carrying a folder filled with papers, but that doesn’t stop him from embracing you. He smells rugged, like his voyage has transformed him, but you rather like it. 

         “Jihyun!” You melt against his hug. “You’re.. Here… you’re here!” 

         Your squealing draws everyone’s attention, but he focuses on you and only you. “Of course I’m here. I missed you more than I can verbalize.” 

         His stance is open, welcoming, and confident, much different from two years ago. He is a different person now, brave and proud. Jihyun offers you the folder. It is strange to gift something in the middle of a party, but you accept it anyways, happy he has returned. 

         Jihyun’s heart races as he explains. “I wrote you letters every time I went somewhere new. These are just a few of them, really I have so many. But each shows something I’ve learned.” He takes a breath and laces his fingers with yours. “This is sudden, and I’m sure you will need time to think about it, but I’m trying something new: asking without being afraid. Over the past two years, I’ve… longed for you. Art has shown me the power of friendship, joy, perseverance, and most importantly, dedication. I want to dedicate my art to you, if you’ll stand by my side.” 

         You can’t find the words to express yourself because you are so awestruck. He truly has changed, but he has embraced himself and his life. Tears start to roll down your cheeks from the overwhelming surge of emotions. Jihyun brushes them away and presses his forehead to yours. 

         “I still have much to learn, but I want to do it all with you.” 

         “I’d like that a lot, Jihyun,” you whisper, captivated by his intense gaze. 

         “And I can finally say this without fear–” 

         You tip your head up, and Jihyun kisses you the next moment. His lips are chapped and the warmth radiating from his skin envelops you. He doesn’t need words to communicate it, because you understand perfectly what he is trying to say. 

#mysmes #mystic messenger #mysmes v #mysmes jihyun #jihyun kim