#but i m gonna get to the drafts & things this weekend or sometime after work this week

[sehunniepotwrites]

HAAAAAAAI i'm so glad i could bring a smile to your face in your day through my messages heheheheh ☺️ how was your day today!!!

omg is this telepathy or what! i was just considering and thinking of whether i wanted to pursue a masters after finishing up my undergrad degree studies!! hehe what's your masters in if it's not too private to ask 🫢 i was just thinking of doing masters because of my current timeline!! it's rly rly tuff to find a job here after graduating because the mkt is currently just kinda meh :/ so i was just wondering if perhaps going for masters would put me in a better spot!! but then again masters is something i can decide at a later time so rn im just gathering opinions from ppl who have taken it! wbu!! do u have any thoughts or opinions? :")

OMGGGGGG have i mentioned im a SUCKER for childhood besties concepts cuz that's just so so so cute 🥹🥹 I LOVE IT I CANT WAIT!!!! 😍 and my goodness how r u alw so creative w your ideas??? iM so unimaginative that like stories alw amaze me 🫢 hehehehe and HELLO wdym u have a life like a fic odnfoenfoke THATS SO COOL AND SWEET N LOVELY gosh i'd WISH i had like one thing from a fic ever happen to me 🥰🥰🥰🥰

AHHHH im so glad u could meet your friends and hang out together!! wish u had as much fun as u possibly could!! hehehehe how nice would it be if we could always be hanging out w our besties and just spending time together 🥺 hope you guys r meeting again soon!!! sounds rly rly fun to karaoke together it's been so so long for me to both karaoke and meet my friends cuz literally everyone im close to or care about is on exchange this semester :/

which brings me to my never ending rant of how despresso espresso i am this semester >< it's a rly tuff time in my life rn cuz im trying to navigate and find an internship that matches both my interest and my degree cuz it is a graduation requirement for me 🤡 i guess im at least getting somewhere w the search cuz i did have a pretti good offer lately! and im currently just pending the outcome of another role i interviewed for under the same company before making a decision (if i do get offered by the other role too heh) 😊 but then im just rly rly LONELY this semester and im just sad cuz im attending classes and doing everything by myself :/ and i dont have friends arnd locally rn that i could meet and just unwind after a period of stress so its rly draining me a lot on top of my never ending assignments projects and exams 🥲🥲 and yea ldr is so so tough and its so hard to keep my emotions in check because of how big of an overthinker i am so im always just having sleepless nights, constant nightmares and sometimes even sleep paralysis 🥲 i guess im becoming more independent from this whole experience though! forces me to become a whole even without everyone by my side and to continue living and functioning, doing what i should be doing!

i love coming to talk to u and reading all your responses too!! 🩵 m alw looking forward to your replies and your kind words to me hehehehe keeps me going!!!

love, 🍑

i've spent the weekend in bed becuase i'm sick again! i binged s2 of the summer i turned pretty and i cried a whole bunch. i love how they really took the angsty route this season--really showed how diff people deal with grief! probs gonna call out tomorrow because i've been sneezing like crazy and my voice is lowkey gone ;; i think i'm gonna try to get some writing done and post a teaser for a story that may never be completed but it's too good to just stay in my drafts!!

oh sure, i have my masters in education. i went thru a one year ma program with a teacher's cred tied into it too. my program was unique in that they condensed a two year prog into one accelerated and it was the toughest year of my life tbh. working full time as a teacher and going to school full time for basically two degrees was tough.

i love all my ideas but i haven't been able to finish them!!! i really want to get them out to the world bc theyre too good to sit in my drafts but it's so incomplete!! the one i am thinking about posting can be a standalone because its such an open-ended ending but there's still WAY more planned for it.

if you have time, playing games together online is a good way to keep in contact. we played pictionary on a website and it was super fun during the pandemic a lot!

it looks like youre slowly getting your ducks in a row for the internship despite the stress! but i see how missing your so and friends can affect your mood. feeling alone is never the best feeling and i totally see where you are coming from. but look at you, you're already looking at the positives out of your stressful situation! that's so great! you can only go up from here, you know? and listen, this is something i always tell my students, each person has their own timeline--their own time to make mistakes, to figure out what they want or need, etc. you may take longer than others but you don't need to worry about others. worry about you and focus on the things you can do for yourself to make you better. and if you make a mistake, that's just a lesson you can take. it's all about your growth mindset!

love u lots!!!

#🍑anon #nikki replies

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

#things i wrote #@anon #i hope you are doing well soon #💙 #rhink

[pfft-yikes]

I can't find the anon button so i volunteer as tribute-- top shino vs. bottom shino? Shino trying kinks with s/o? thank you monarch, mighty delicious bones.

I’m back with a request that has been sitting in my drafts for quite sometime now! Sorry about that @boneeating--baastard ;;

Anyways, this will be pretty long: I hope the length helps makes up for my horrendous post gappage ^^;;

*tw!*

- if harder kinks/BDSM aren’t your thing or make you uncomfy, I would skip this particular prompt. Enjoy!

Top!Shino - NSFW

Shino is very quiet mostly because he gets interrupted or ignored all the fucking time, so it made you wonder if things would be like a silent in the streets freaky in the sheets sort of thing

It’s definitely that and then some ♪

When you first started dating, obviously he wasn't gonna flat out go "Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I'm kinky husband material and will make you beg for me to touch you"

In fact, saying such a sentence would be quite embarrassing

He didn't want to push that on you though, or scare you with kinks he likes or wanted to try

However, this changed one night

You were staying over at his place during his off day; you'd already slept together before so it wasn't a big deal or anything

One thing led to another and next thing you know, you're both going at it

Something seemed different though, with both of you. Maybe you never noticed it before, but

..was Shino holding back.?

I mean to be quite honest, you’d gladly do it whenever Shino wanted to, however he wanted to

Y-You just never openly said this

And another thing; you're way too turned on right now, more than usual

Oh n o

✨ Ovulation ✨

You've never done it when you were ovulating!! You really didn't want your inner sluttiness to come out, Jesus ChriST-

..B-But..I want more..

You tried your best to hold back, but all of a sudden you find yourself staring Shino in the eye, wriggling around

"S-Shino.."

??

"..D-Do me more..Fuck me so hard that my pussy memorizes your shape..p-please?"

??!

"..I won't hold back anymore, then."

All of a sudden he slams himself into you, sending jolts down your spine

You can't help but turn into a moaning mess in front of him, scrambling to grab whatever you could on the bed

He grabs your small wrists with one of his big hands and pins them above your head

He lifts one of your legs up and places it on his shoulder, pushing himself deeper inside you

"..Tell me what you want. I know you have ideas in that cute head of yours."

"P-Pull my hair..c-choke me.. I'll do anything you want..I want more.."

He stares at you and caresses your face, running his thumb over your cheek, then your lip

"Is that really what you want?"

You lick his thumb and look up at him;

"Yes, sir."

Shino.exe has stopped working

He moves his hand to your neck, careful to lightly squeeze your arteries and not your throat

He feels your pussy throb and squeeze him harder, making him groan

"You're so eager. Cute."

He flips you over and pins your arms behind your back with one hand while grabbing your hair with the other

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart. I want you to feel everything."

He pounds you deep, making your legs shake

You had to have came at least 4 times now

Shino starts groaning more, and you feel his dick twitch inside you

"P-Please cum inside me..I want it so bad.."

"You really want me to take the condom off and do that? What an interesting request."

"I'm on birth control.. Please..?"

"Please what?"

"P-Please, sir?"

"How naughty."

He kisses your back while he slips himself back into you, raw this time

"Mm, fuck.."

He feels amazing inside; his dick is so warm.. Why didn't you get on birth control sooner?

His thrusts get faster and harder, putting you over the edge once more

He cums inside you, filling your hole up until it spills out

You thought that was it, that it was satisfying enough to stop

But you both sensed it wasn’t.

All of a sudden Shino picks you up off the bed and slams his hands on top of yours against the wall

Without missing a beat, he slowly pushes himself into you while licking your ear

“Let’s see how well your birth control works, darling. Keep your hands on the wall.”

Shino firmly plants one hand on the small of your back and gently reached around and placed his other hand’s fingers in your mouth

He starts picking up the pace, going deeper and deeper

Your head feels so light; it feels so good it’s dizzying

Shino notices how shaky your legs are and mentally captures this moment, chuckling a bit to himself

He turns you around to face him, and lifts you up, tucking his arms under your knees

He kisses you so deeply that the kiss itself could make you cum at any moment

You wrap your arms around him as he slams you down onto his dick, both of you getting close

Shino groans in your ear, pushing you to the edge

He feels your walls convulsing, and releases more hot liquid deep inside you

He carries you to the bed: you lay there shaking, while he holds you and plants small kisses on your hands

"Shino?"

Oh god she hated it

"..Hm?"

"..C-Can we try bondage next time? I-I have other ideas too, i-if you want to try them.."

Heart eyes for yOoOoOuU-

"Of course. Let's help you to the shower for now."

Bottom!Shino - NSFW

You two have been getting more comfortable with each other, both in bed and in general ever since you guys stopped holding back

There’s been a lot of experimenting throughout the last few months, just as promised

In fact, Shino probably knows you better than yourself in some ways now

You learned a lot about him as well in the process too; however

It’s still a bit difficult to read him, he’s very good at keeping a poker face;;

There is..s-something you could try, if he’s okay with it of course..

E-Even if it’s embarrassing for you, it’s for a good cause!! Understanding how to read your significant other is important for a healthy relationship!

The weekend rolls around, and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do on your way to his place

Shino opens the door before you even knock

“Oh, hello Shino! Did I make you wait too long?”

“Of course not, I just knew you would be here soon because of my bugs. Come in.”*

*This is a half truth; in actuality he was simply really excited to see you after that bullshit mission with Naruto and Kiba and couldn’t sit still

You go inside, give Shino a hug and quick peck on the cheek, and say hello to his contained bugs

They were really happy to see you

You spent the afternoon chatting about what’s new, and listening to him vent about being stuck with the two idiots again during his last mission

After helping him in the kitchen with dinner, you decide that now is as good a time as any to prep for spending the night

“Shino, I’m going to go take a quick shower, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll be checking on my beetles.”

...She was acting fidgety when she was grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser.*

Yes, you have your own drawer of clothes at his house uwu*

He glances towards the drawer in question

But..I don’t want to mess with her things. Hm...

The water just stopped, so I’ll just wait until she comes back.

While Shino contemplated why you were acting sus as fuck in the bedroom, you were trying to calm down before you finished drying your hair

Feeling a bit nervous, you walk out of the bathroom sporting a simple oversized t-shirt and some baggy shorts

Shino looks at you, and gives you a kiss on the back of your hand when you sit down on the bed next to him

Oh thank God, he doesn’t suspect anything

“You seem anxious.”

So that was a fucking lie-

“I-I’m not really-..I-I mean, it’s just that-”

...

“I was wondering if..m-maybe we could- you know..d-do it.?”

“..? Of course we can. I wouldn’t refuse.”

Shino gently lifted your chin and gave you a simple kiss, slowly deepening it

You could feel yourself getting dizzy, but remembering what you had planned brought you back to your senses

You gently lean on top of him, pushing him back onto the bed

You look at him, and nervously say

“C-Can..can we try something different.? I kind of want it to be a surprise, so.. I-I guess what I mean to say is, d-do you trust me?”

Shino gives you a small smile and nods

“Of course.”

“O-Okay then; please, t-tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or if you want to stop, alright?”

“Mhm.”

With that, you grab his hands and start kissing him once more, slowly moving his hands above his head

You take his shirt off, and right after his arms get free from his clothes-

-you proceed to tie his hands together with a pre-knotted silk.

.

.

.

“...So..This is why you’ve been anxious.”

“W-Well, that’s..part of it..

What does she mean “part” of it?

You take your baggy clothes off, revealing black lingerie you hid in your bag, then straddle your tied up partner

“Oh. I..didn’t expect that.”

Drats, he’s still composed as hell! Time to start kicking things up a notch

Shino was not, in fact, composed at all

At least not internally; his heart couldn’t handle this sort of pleasant view

He didn’t think you would take this sort of initiative

You proceeded to leave hickeys all over his neck and chest; he’s always so covered up that it’s not like anyone besides you would see them anyways

You kissed your way down his stomach, and felt how hard he was

You pull down his pants and eagerly caress his dick, planting a small kiss on the head

Looking up at him, you drag your tongue up his shaft and swirl it around the head, slowly taking it in your mouth and sucking

She did not just do that-

While I’m tied up.

You noticed how he seemed to want to buck his hips the deeper you took him in your mouth

You looked up and noticed him turning a light shade of pink

You wondered if you could..

All of a sudden, Shino flinches

!? Did she just..s-start deepthroating me.?

He couldn’t help it; Shino brought his tied hands down and grabbed your head, thrusting his hips against your mouth

You heard his breathing get shaky, and all of a sudden you felt his hot load in the back of your throat

“! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Shino looks down to see his girlfriend with tears streaming down her face, staring at him while she swallows what’s left of his cum

“Y-You..”

“Hey, Shino..”

You crawl on top of him, rubbing your pussy on his dick

“..Cum for me more..”

Oh my god, she’s completely turned on. It’s like she’s a totally different person..

You lean back and slip him inside you

You let out a moan, and you feel him throb inside you

Oh..he must like hearing me moan

You started to slowly pump yourself up and down

He started thrusting himself into you, wanting to pick up speed

..but you kind of felt like being a brat ✨

You stopped, then started grinding, swiveling your pelvis in circles

He seemed..irritated?

“So, you decided to tease me..”

All of a sudden you feel yourself fall backwards, and find Shino hunched over on top of you

Looking at the silk around his hands, he seems to have wanted to pry himself free a few times..it’s kind of..c-cute..

He kisses your neck, nipping you here and there out of frustration for not being able to grab you

You turn yourself around, pushing your ass against him in this huddled doggy position you both found yourself in

You can feel how warm he is, and notice how much his dick is twitching; you’re more than positive he wants to stick it back in

You slowly push yourself back onto his dick, mewling at the sensation

You can hear Shino release his breath above you, as if he was holding it

Noticing that his hands are right in front of your face, you grab the silk-

And pull his weight forward while you thrust your hips back

“Hn..! W-What..”

Did he just kinda moan??? ✨

You start quickening your pace, causing the man looming over your body to swell inside you

You slow down, and crawl out from under him, leaving his dick agitated

“Leaning over for so long probably isn’t very comfortable when you’re restrained like that, right?”

Shino sits up, a bit confused about what the fuck you’re talking about; He honestly wasn’t even thinking about it because of how good you felt

“I..suppose.”

You crawl over to him and wiggle yourself between his arms, straddling his lap

“This is better, don’t you think? Now I can kiss you all I want!”

“..marriage..”

“Hm? Did you say something Shino?”

“No. This is nice; I get to look at your cute facial expressions while you’re in my arms. I like it.”

..h-he still finds ways to embarrass me even in these situations;;

Shino chuckles to himself, seeing you turn a bit red

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, progressively making it heavier and hotter

Without even realizing it, you find yourselves grinding on each other, you both getting slicker the longer it goes

You finally lift yourself up, and push yourself onto his throbbing dick

You both pant out of relief, and ease yourselves into a steady pace

You don’t even care about the fact that he’s thrusting himself into you, that you aren’t in as much control anymore

You both just really need to feel each other

“I can’t..resist anymore..Sorry, sweetheart.”

You feel Shino grab hold of your hips; you forgot that the silk hardly made an impact on your size differences

Then without warning, he slams himself deep into you, causing you to dig your nails into his back

You can’t help but cling onto him, grabbing a fist full of his hair

Shino groans into your neck, sucking and biting your skin

He feels you cum, your legs shaking

The sensation of your walls squeezing his dick is too much; his cum is so hot it feels like you’re melting on the inside

He came so much that it’s practically dripping out of you

You untie his hands, and he instantly holds you close to him.

“I’m surprised.”

“About?”

“You taking this sort of initiative. I didn’t expect it.”

“But you found out I was up to something before I even did anything, silly.”

“I didn’t know you’d do this though. But it was cute. I like seeing another side of you.”

With that, you both goof off and cuddle for a while; bath time can wait just a bit longer

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I might put up a poll to see which character out of my requests to do next, I don’t want to put out too many of the same character at once;;

Until next time! ✨

#headcanon #headcanons #x reader #shino aburame headcanons #shino aburame headcanon #shino headcanon #shino headcanons #shino x reader #shino aburame x reader #shino aburame #shino

[slaveformingi]

The Silent Treatment (M)

READER (y/n) X KIM HONGJOONG (Ateez) Genre: Smut, DOM!Hongjoong, Angst, Slight Fluff Word Count: 2503 Words Summary:  Your anniversary was coming up soon and you had so much planned and prepared for the special date but your boyfriend suddenly reveals that he had an unexpected schedule pop up. An argument breaks out between the two of you and you decide to give him the silent treatment. Little did you know it would turn to something more heated. 

(Author’s Note: Fix On! Once again, it’s 4am and I finally finished writing this piece. Hopefully you like it, I have 5 smut drafts (1 Seonghwa, 1 Woosan, 1 Wooyoung, 1 Yeosang and 1 Yunho) right now but I keep on getting sidetracked or writers block. I guess I’ll upload them when I’m finished with them. Till then, I hope you guys enjoy this one C: )

##

You were pissed.

No, wait.

You were beyond pissed.

You miss the times when things were small and simple, before it all turned complicated and messy. Big things had made its way to bother your relationship but something about tonight was just too much.

There had been many times (too many to count on your fingers) where you had planned for a date with your boyfriend only for him to cancel on you last minute due to an unexpected schedule. Sometimes it was a photoshoot, sometimes it was a fan meeting, sometimes it was a variety show shooting. There also had been times where your boyfriend had to fly to another country to perform with his group mates.

You understood the consequences of dating an idol even before you had gotten into this relationship; always needing to expect the unexpected and to keep the relationship a secret from the public, and somehow, you always managed to pull through it.

But today, you really couldn't keep your cool. It was going to be your 5 year anniversary soon. You had been spent months planning for it. Hongjoong didn't know anything about your plans and you had even made sure with his manager that he was free for the weekend.

You had been in the clear for weeks. But suddenly out of nowhere your boyfriend announces that his company made plans for him, his groupmates and Eden to go to Japan to find inspiration for their next album.

You were arguing about how he should find a way to get out of it. You weren't  telling him specifically why he shouldn't  go for the trip and that made him angry cause you were keeping things from him, which triggered you to get angry at the way he was pressuring you to tell him. 

In the end you were screaming at him because the little things were taking a toll on you and everything just blew out of proportion. It eventually boiled down to the fact he was stressed because there was a lot of things on his plate and you were getting out your emotions at how much you actually missed him, and instead of telling him what you really feel, you ended up screaming things you didn't even mean.

And finally he snapped.

“Could you just please shut the fuck up?!” Hongjoong roared.

You watched the fire in his eyes while you were reeling from the shock of his words. You swallowed your words, seething in anger. 

He had crossed the line. 

There had been more than one occasion in your relationship where you had stressed to Hongjoong about how much you hated hearing someone tell you to shut up. 

When you were younger, you were bullied a lot in school and everyone used to tell you to shut up. Hearing Hongjoong telling you to shut up triggered you.

“Fine!” you fired back, your insides were boiling.

You shot him a disappointed look before you stormed into your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you and locking it. If he wanted you to shut up so badly, then you were going to give him exactly what he asked for.

You undressed yourself and put on your pyjamas. You threw yourself onto the bed and slowly sobbed into your pillow. You heard music playing in the living room, it was Hongjoong’s way off cooling down and getting things off his mind.

About an hour passed by, the music turned off. You heard Hongjoong’s footsteps approaching the bedroom door and trying to open it.

“Baby, come on.” you heard his voice from outside the door. “I need to go to sleep.”

You remained quiet.

“Look y/n, I’m sorry but I can't clear up my schedule for our anniversary. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Now please babe, just open the door.”

After trying to open the door a few more times and getting no response from you, he eventually gave up and you heard him collapse again onto the couch with a loud sigh. 

You woke up the next morning feeling like shit and got yourself ready for college in silence. Hongjoong was still asleep on the couch, his mouth slightly open as soft snores came out.

It was really hard to stay mad at someone like Hongjoong, but you were still pissed at him.

You grabbed your keys from the countertop and left your apartment. You didn't bother to make coffee or breakfast for the both of you. You just wanted to make sure he didn't hear from you till you wanted him to.

It was almost 3pm, you were in class when you got a text from him. 

{ Hey, you want to talk about last night? }

You choose to ignore his message. It was around 6pm, when your class was over. “Hey y/n.” said one of you friend, “Me and a few others are gonna go get some drinks. Do you want to join us?” 

You hesitated at first before you remembered Hongjoong’s words; “Could you just please shut the fuck up?!”

“You know what. Sure.” You decided to let Hongjoong pay the price of his words for a little. Plus, drinks were exactly what you needed right now.

A few drinks in and you received a call from Hongjoong but instead of answering, you turned your phone off and ordered another round of shots.  

By the time you got home, it was very late and you were barely sober. You unlocked the door and walk in without even looking at Hongjoong who was on the couch waiting for you.

“Where were you? Why was your phone off? I WAS FUCKING WORRIED Y/N!” he said as he leaped off the couch. He grabbed your wrist and turned you around to face him.

You looked him dead in the eyes, not showing him a hint of emotion. You pulled your hand away from him and walked towards the bedroom, nonchalantly untying your hair and taking off your cardigan as you heard him storming in behind you.

“What the fuck y/n?! Fucking answer me! Where the fuck were you?!”

You didn't bother to turn around to look at him, instead you walk towards the bathroom so you could take a shower but before you could, Hongjoong grabbed you by the arm and turned you around to face him.

“FUCKING SAY SOMETHING!”

He stared at you intensely, searching for something, anything. Anything that would give him an answer. Suddenly he caught a whiff of your s mell, alcohol.

“Did you go to a bar or something? Who were you with?!” 

You could see the anger In his eyes, the veins in his neck were visible. It scared you to see him like this, you’ve never seen him so angry before.

You looked him right in the eyes and kept quiet. Not making a single noise. You could still see the shimmer of concern in his furrowed brows but the burn of his eyes was sticking. 

You suddenly realised that you were getting slightly turned on, Hongjoong looked attractive when he was angry but you were not ready to back down and give him an answer.

He was furious.

His teeth were gritted.

His breathing got heavier.

His fingers dug into your arms.

You looked up into his eyes still not saying a word. The situation was getting too much for Hongjoong to bear.

He let out a growl before smashing his lips into yours, kissing you angrily. Your body instantly burned with desire. He looked so angry and frustrated, you could tell he was hungry for you. He turned and slammed you into the wall.

He ripped off your skirt as if he was angry with it. He pulled down your panties and lifted you up, supporting you using one arm as he slammed his hips into yours.

You could feel the power he had over you. Your lips crashed again, he bit your lower lip and forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp when you felt his two fingers thrust into you, his fingers thrusting in you so forcefully, each thrust sent waves of pleasure to your body.

You could feel yourself getting weak from how amazing it felt. You bit his lip and he pulled his face back with a growl.

“Fucking bitch.” he snarled at you.

Something about the way he said it turned you on even more. He never used that kind of language with you before, cursing wasn't his thing. He only cursed when he was really upset, just like earlier that night. Something about him cursing at you made your pussy throbbed. A loud moan escaped your mouth as his fingers mercilessly pounded into you. 

“You like that don't you?” he said as his thumb started to rub your clit, his two fingers still pounding into you. You gasped as your head snapped back.

You were desperately clinging onto his tensed arms to keep yourself from falling. He ruthlessly crashed his lips onto your exposed neck, leaving hickeys all over your neck. The sensation sending goosebumps all over your body. Another moan escaped your lips.

“What was that babe? You finally want to say something?” he said against your neck as he thrusted another finger into you.

It took you ever single strength into your power not to say a word. You wanted to make him work for it but to your despair, he pulled his fingers out of you, you whimpered at the lost of his fingers. A smirk slowly appearing on his face. 

He lifted you up from the wall and threw you onto the bed. He ripped off your t-shirt and tore off your bra, snapping it free from your arms.

You helped free his hard member from it’s “confinements”. He took off his hoodie and throws it across the room. Once you were both naked, he pulls you by your legs down the bed and into his arms again. He brought you up and lowered you onto his member, thrusting fiercely into you.

You bit your lips to suppress your scream, still not wanting to say a word to him. He kept thrusting into you fiercely and hitting your g-spot every time. Loud groans escape his mouth every time he thrusts into you.

He pushed you onto the bed and spread your legs wide. You gasped as he bit your nipple with his teeth. He proceeded to play with your nipple as his other hand messages your other breast. You ran your fingers through his hair as you came. He lets out a groan as he feels your walls tightened around his member.

“It fells good doesn't it?” he said with a smirk on his face. “Well, we’re not done yet.”

He smirks as he looks down at you, you were helpless under him. You had never seen this side of him before. You could tell that by his face that he really wasn't done with you yet. He still hadn't gotten you to talk to him.

He lifted you once again as if you weighed like nothing, rapidly moving you to the centre of the bed, pushing your pillows out of the way. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you into a kiss. 

“I’m going to make you scream my name. Make every single person in the apartment know who you belong to and who’s making you feel this good.” he growled “I want you to scream my name until you have no voice left.”

Your could see the flames in his eyes. His teeth gritted once again. Your body was so heated and full of pleasure. You felt as if you were going to pass out soon and it looked as if that’’s exactly what he intended to do. 

He position his member in front of your entrance and slammed his member into you again, instantly hitting your g-spot. He brought your hands above your head and pinned them onto the headboard with one of his hands. The other hand massaging your clit as his thrusts into you, his face buried in your neck as he left hickeys all over it. 

At this point, you were already a moaning mess. The pleasure was too much for you to handle, you could feel your climax coming. You started whimpering with each of his thrust. You could see from his face that he was close too. 

His thrust got faster, beads of sweat forming on his face. You could feel yourself loosing your strength to keep yourself quiet.

“Yes baby? You want to tell me something?” He said thrusting into you faster, hitting your g-spot every single time. You were going to come, you were so so close.

“Fu-- Fucking hell, Joong-- Please don’t fucking stop! OHMYGOD!OH--iM GOING TO--CUM!!” You screamed his name as you came undone on him. A few final thrust and he came into your hard. Hongjoong letting out a satisfied moan right into your ear.

He pulled out of you after a few minutes and rolled himself off you. Your body trembled, both of you took time to steady your breathing. A few moments later, Hongjoong pulled you into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry baby. I didn't mean to tell you to shut up. Pleas--Please dont do it again. I was so worried the whole time. I’m -- I’m so sorry baby.” he said choking up on his own words, sounding like he was about to burst into tears.

“No Joong, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have made you suffer. I was being immature and I'm so sorry we had this fight. I guessed I got too caught up in wanting you to be here for our anniversary that I forgot that you don’t really have any control over your schedule. We can wait till your break to celebrate it.” you said as you turned to him and caressed his cheek. He smiled as he pulled you into a sweet and passionate kiss.

“I know our anniversary is this Saturday but I have tomorrow off, we can go for an early anniversary date or something like that.” he said looking into your eyes.

“I would like that, thank you baby.” you said smiling. “Also baby, you look really hot when you’re angry. Maybe I should give you the silent treatment more often.”

He chuckled as he leaves a kiss on your forehead.

“Promise me you won't give me the silent treatment ever again. That really sucked.” 

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez incorrect quotes #ateez reaction #ateez hongjoong #ateez kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez leader #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez answer #ateez hard hours #ateez hala hala #ateez pirate king #ateez wave #ateez say my name #kq entertainment

[therollingstonys]

Fic Recs of the Week!! June 8-12, 2020

Here we go!!! More under the cut!

Puppy Love by @jehbeeeh

One shot: Stony, COMPLETE

Rated: G

Steve gets turned into a puppy by Loki.

12/10 THE MOST FLUFFY 🥰🥰 So cute and soft and fluffy!! So many cute moments that made me just go AWW out loud. Must read!!

The Tutor by @tisfan and @27dragons

Multi chapter: Winteriron, WIP

Rated: E

When a scandal drives Tony Stark from his family and home, he takes a position as tutor to the children of a far-off boyar. He arrives in the country to find the boyar himself absent and the castle staff mistrustful. The children are their own challenge, the elder openly hostile and the younger entirely too clever for her own good. Despite various mishaps such as the appearance of a ghost, the boy getting himself arrested, and Tony getting lost in the woods, the work is satisfying. Tony is beginning to think he might be able to make a place for himself here... And then the boyar comes home. Now, things are really hard.

Listen my love for Jane Eyre style fics knows no bounds. I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT. Tisfan and 27dragons never fail to deliver a HEA, and in this day and age that’s something incredibly comforting to sit down and enjoy.

Blood Will Tell by @thewaythatwerust

Multi chapter: stuckony, winteriron, stony and stucky, WIP

Rated: E

Bucky should have never intervened...

But 'should have' had never been his strong suit. Which is how he finds himself in a cell, with the inexplicable urge to protect the human charged with holding him captive, from the aberrant lycan threat rising up around them. He thinks it can't get worse... until a strangely familiar face is staring at him through the bars, out for his blood. That's when things start to get really interesting.

Vampires and werewolves and drama oh my!! I love this fic so much!! It’s so fun and intractely built—the lore is completely believable and interesting and the characters are so well written it’s amazing!! 11/10 MUST READ!

Blind Side Tackle by @longhornletters

Multi chapter: Stony, WIP

Rated: M

Steve Rogers wants two things - for a team (preferably not Dallas) to draft him and to not make an absolute fool of himself on an NFL field. He's trying to find his own way in a complicated system, but through the ups and downs of transitioning to the pros, he's got more help than he realizes. Tony Stark wants two things also - a face of the franchise-quality quarterback and a bit of that "little life" he's always just kind of ignored up to now. He's trying to find the work-life balance everyone keeps telling him he needs, but the things he wants can sometimes come from unexpected places.

I am American and so I was raised with American football, and combining this love with stony means I’ve found a fic that I just adore. The writing is absolute superb and the characterization is spot on!! Add it to your list folks, you’re gonna love it!!

Cabin Fever by @winterstar95 

Multi chapter: Stony, COMPLETE

Rated: E

After Ultron, the team needed something to pull them back together. A long weekend away at a cabin in the woods sounded like an excellent idea. They could binge watch favorite shows, cook, eat, play games. It would be great. Except it wasn't, because the storm of the century hit and Tony ends up stuck with Steve - alone in the cabin.

Honestly, there were so many cute parts of this I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite, but tbh, the sled riding was just too fucking cute!! I loved watching these two idiots slowly figure out their feels and learn to communicate like they need to. So so good, and so sweet!!

Tryst by @hollyandvice 

One shot: Stony, COMPLETE 

Rated: E

Steve slips a hand into his pocket and rubs his thumb over the remote he’s carrying. The temptation is so close to his heart, something in him wanting to push Tony a little higher, make that perfect mask slip even just a little bit. It's a hell of a temptation and Steve might have given in if not for the slightly desperate look Tony shoots his way.

Steve smiles. A concession. Tony deserves a reward for that.

Tony makes Steve an offer he can't refuse. Steve ups the ante. Everyone gets what the want in the end.

WHOOO BABY was this one HOT. *fans self* First of all, I adore this premise anyway, and then how it was written?? OOF. 100/10 please please read lol 

Silver Fox by @missmoodybear

One shot: stuckony, COMPLETE

Rated: E

Steve nudged Bucky’s arm, “Silver foxes are his type.” He quickly took a sip of his beer before Bucky could hit him. Bucky could feel his heart beat faster.“Hmm…not the first time I’ve been called that, honestly.” Stark sipped his whiskey. He looked at them both, his eyes almost like a physical touch, “So, what’s your type, Blondie?”“Oh! Uhh...well,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.Bucky knew an opportunity for revenge when he saw one. “He is a bossy fuckin’ bottom, and his type is anyone who can put up with that.”“Dammit Buck,” Steve sputtered, his ears turned pink in a flash.“I can handle that. Well, if you two are sober enough to consent, my car is waiting out front.”Steve’s eyes locked with his. It wasn’t their intention to go home with someone when they came out, just to look, but he was the one putting it all out there, and Bucky could see a challenging smirk on Steve’s plush lips, the one he gets when he wants to play. Stark waited for them both to nod, then he drained his glass before pulling out the blue-tinted glasses and settling them back on his face, “Shall we?

*deep breath* y’all....Y’ALL!! THIS FIC!! It’s SO GOOD. So hot! Absolutely amazing, and I adore every word! 😍😍😍😍 This fic is only visible to users who have an AO3 account, so do yourself a favor and sign up so you can read it!!

#mod stella's fic recs of the week #stony #stuckony #winteriron

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Intern (CliffxReader)

Requested by @perawuat​

Let me know if you want me to add you on the OUATIH taglist! :)

"Y/n? You comin' or what?" Your roommates stopped and looked to you for an answer.

You shook your head with a sigh, "Not tonight, sorry guys."

One of your friends, Ziggy, raised her eyebrow, "Oh come on, Y/n. Live a little!"

There was a party on campus. One of the many....many parties you'd bailed out on that month alone.

They just weren't your scene.

You were a bit old fashioned. More of an intellectual.  You liked cafes, ballets, and developing photos. Your friends loved clubs, protests, and being in those photos. Most of your friends were hippies, and whether you liked to admit it or not, they kept you balanced up with the times.

Your other roommate, Rowan, nodded, and nudged you a little with his elbow, "Come on! It's gonna be far out, man!"

Your other friend, Odie, adjusted their collar, "I heard there's gonna be some cats from Berkeley, baby!"

You sighed.... Berkeley kids were known to be on another level of hippy-ness.

Ziggy wrapped her hands around your forearm and bounded up and down with pleading, wide eyes, "USC kids are coming through, come on!"

You studied at UCLA, USC also happened to be a bit of a party school, and was also a rival school. It was  certain there'd be a fight or two added to the expected chaos.

"There's gonna be booze, dudes, and no narcs! C'mon, it'll be groovy, baby!" Odie held their hands in the air, vibing and dancing with the wind, "Live a little, Y/n!"

You shook your head, your arms crossed over your books across your chest "Maybe next time, guys." Rowan groaned, "Aw don't be such a drag, Y/n!"

You smiled a little, "You guys go ahead. Catch you tomorrow?"

You walked to the end of the block together. They'd cross the street to get to the party, you'd keep walking down the block to get to your dorm.

There was a parking lot on the corner. It was empty save for a single trailer.

As you waited for the lights to change you all looked into the lot.

Rowan leaned in, and whispered "I heard it belongs to professor McHarris. Say his wife ditched him and how he lives in a trailer."

Odie shook their head, and rolled their eyes with a sigh, "Ugh boys. Who told you that? I heard..." They leaned into the circle, and muttered in annoyance, "It's. Just. Abandoned. Here."

Rowan frowned in disbelief, "Who'd abandon a perfectly good trailer?!"

Odie shrugged, pulling on a pair of shades as they squinted against the setting sun, "Who wouldn't?"

Ziggy, a theater major, and naturally a lover of storytelling, smirked as she leaned in. "Well...I heard some weird stuff goes on in there. Some cult leader or something crashes there late at night after he goes PSYCHO."  She waved her fist around like Norman Bates and laughed as the rest of you stepped back and shuddered in horror.

The light turned green and your friends waved goodbye.

You turned and walked down the block as they crossed the street.

You sighed as you climbed up the stairs to your apartment and opened the door. You sat down, and stacked your books and projects up, and started working. You didn’t like parties, but you liked fun and adventures. You liked doing your own thing, sometimes. But, right now you had some work to do...  You could have sworn you'd studied the whole night through.

You slammed the books shut. Your eyes were dry and tired from all the reading. You sighed and looked up at the wall. You had strung up photographs you'd developed over the weekend. Some of them were a bit questionable, a little on the avant-garde side of art. But all in all, your work was a masterpiece. The rows of strung up pictures were just a snippet of your impressive portfolio.

Consequently, you'd just gotten an internship in Hollywood on a set.

You were starting the next morning, and looking forward to it, though you were understandably nervous about it.

It was also part of the reason you didn't really want to go to the party..

True, you could have gone just for an hour or two...but acid and protest tunes weren't really up your alley. Maybe a cigarette, gin and tonic, and some Rat Pack records.

Your roommates and friends were probably talking about a protest that would happen on campus next week. But, that also wasn't your thing. You just weren't comfortable with crowds and loud noise. Mysteries.. Now that was where it was at.

At least to you.

You looked at your watch, expecting it to be 3 or 4 am... It was only midnight.

The night was still young.

And you were restless.

You stood up... For once in your life you were going to be impulsive and assertive. You were going to do something crazy.

You were going to find out who the hell really lived in the trailer.

You pulled on your denim jacket, and put on your red go-go boots, rushed out the door, and down the stairs, rushing to the parking lot before you lost your new found sense of curiosity.

You wrapped your fingers against the chain link fence, your eyes zeroing in on the lone trailer in the center of the dark lot.

You sighed, trying to force yourself to do one exciting thing with your life. "Don't be a drag. Don't be a drag, don't be a drag..."

You trudged through the darkness and hovered around the trailer. It was dark and silent. Maybe Odie was right. Maybe it really was just abandoned...

Or maybe...

Maybe Rowan was right. It was rare, but he had his moments.... Maybe that professor really was just trying to get by...

Or...horrifically but also possibly,  what if Ziggy was right?! She always had hear-say and gossip down to a t... Besides...

Serial killers weren't not a thing in big cities.... What if this cult leader rumor was real?!

You were close to the door..  You didn't even knock on the door when you heard a guttural growl and a loud bark.

You fell back in fear, and pushed back on your heels and palms.

You unexpectedly ran into something...

You turned around, feeling cold with fear, "Holy shit it's the serial killer..."

You looked up and he looked down.

He was wearing sunglasses for some reason...

You held your breath, "Definitely a serial killer."

He wore a denim jacket over a black shirt.

He reached down and pulled you up, with a seemingly, and oddly friendly smile. "She doesn't bite." He threw his cigarette onto the ground and put it out with his foot.

"Wh...who are..." He was kinda cute... A bit on the older side. And...also still probably a serial killer.

"My dog. Her name's Brandy." He shrugged matter-of-factly, as he looked through a key ring.

You sighed calming yourself down a bit, reasoning that a serial killer wouldn't be human enough to have a dog. You hoped...

He started to unlock the door as he clicked to calm his dog down. "So any particular reason why a kid like you's fuckin' around here and isn't home and asleep?" "Why wouldn't a kid like me be out?" You thought you had him. He shrugged, "Out in the street alone where there's some real creeps?"

"You're not a creep, are ya?"

He chuckled a little " No. I dont think so at least."

You smiled a little as he sat on his makeshift porch, his dog sitting by his side.

"I'm not a kid anyway. I'm twenty-two."

He chuckled a little. He remembered what it was like to be so young, "So why aren't you at a club or a party or a protest or somethin'?"

You shrugged a little "Not really my scene."

"So you're not a hippy?" He sighed a little, a bit more at ease. Even if they were for peace and all, they made Cliff Booth a little uneasy, which wasn't an easy thing to do itself.

"Not really. And you.... Youre not a m..." You bit your lip. Why would a murderer admit to being a murderer?

"A what?"

"Well... Your trailer popped up out of nowhere and there's been... rumors about you..."

Cliff chuckled a little. He wasn't quite a star in Hollywood but rumors always managed to keep him in the spotlight.

"Yeah? What kinda rumors?" He petted Brandy as she laid her head on his leg.

"The best one was you were either a professor that got divorced and lost everything. Or a culty serial killer."

He laughed, "That's crazy talk."

"Yeah...so...who are you?"

He took his glasses off and you saw his beautiful blue eyes under the moonlight. "My name's Cliff. What about you, intruder?"

"Intruder?!"

He nodded, a little amused by your response, "Pokin' around somebody's home at midnight? Makes you an intruder."

"Student parking lot. You are ...probably not a student right, Cliff?" You smirked a little.

"Touche, kid. So...intruders are strangers. You don't wanna be a stranger, right?"

You laughed, "Guess not." You shrugged, "My name's Y/n. I study photography there." You pointed to a building down two blocks, looming like a castle over the new city lights.

Cliff whistled a little, "UCLA. Nice school. You know what you're gonna do when you're through?"

You nodded, "I graduate in a few months. And I just got an internship on some set in Hollywood. I start tomorrow. I wanna work cameras for movies some day. Guess this is how I'll start."

Cliff smiled, "Sounds like a dream, kiddo. Good luck out there." Cliff knew more than anyone that Hollywood was a cut throat place.

He meant it when he wished you luck.

And something about the way he said it let you know that. "Thanks Cliff," You smiled, until you looked around the parking lot and the dark streets. A few hours from then it would be awake with cops raiding the parties and kids scrambling to get to their dorms.

"You gonna be ok, old timer?"

Cliff laughed a little, "Does get loud around here sometimes. College was never really my thing."

"No?"

He shook his head "Nah. I got drafted."

"Heavy."

"Yeah... So I move around every now and then to keep things fresh. There's an empty lot behind this theater. I've been thinkin' of movin' out there next."

You felt a little sad for him. It felt so lonesome out there at night.

You asked again "You gonna be ok, Cliff?"

He smiled a little, "I get by, kid. Don't worry. You go out there, show em whatchu got tomorrow, ok?"

You nodded, "Thanks again, mister," you smiled as you started walking away. "See you around, Cliff!"

You waved back at him and he waved back with a soft smile and a sigh, "See ya,  kid."

And...he did...

You were an intern on a set that you knew nothing about.

"Alright L/n. When the director says action you're gonna move down here with this camera. When you get to the third line you have to zoom in on Rick."

"Rick?" Your mentor of sorts nodded "Yeah. Rick fucking Dalton."

Your jaw dropped, "Rick Dalton? Like Bounty Law- Rick Dalton?!"

The cameraman nodded understanding you were star struck. You were fairly young so you'd probably grown up watching his shows. "Yeah. And. After lunch were gonna work with his stunt double over on the horses. That guy's crazy. His name's Cliff."

What were the odds...

"Cliff?"

You heard a third, familiar voice. "Yeah?"

The camernan smiled, "Speak of the devil!"

You turned around and sure enough there he was.

Cliff....

He took off his sunglasses, trying to figure out if it was really you. "Y/n?"

You smiled "Hi!"

He laughed "Well I'll be damned! This is where you're working!?"

You smiled and nodded "Yeah!"

Cliff smiled. He wanted to make sure you didn't end up like him. He knew a few names that might come in handy for you. He wanted to make sure you were alright.

Cliff didn't do that for many people...

Frankly...Well, he liked you.

And Cliff Booth didn't like many people.

He wasn't too social. A bit like you...

Somehow Rick convinced you to go to a Hollywood party with them.

Cliff had to go because Rick needed a ride, as always. And you went because you just wanted to spend some time with them.

They were quickly becoming some of your closest friends.

Cliff was becoming a little more than a friend, a little less than a fling.

But you wanted it to be so much more.

Cliff left you and Rick to get some drinks for the three of you.

Rick laughed as you told him the story of how you and Cliff met.  "A serial killer?!" He laughed and wiped away a tear, "Wait till you hear the rumors about him around Hollywood!"

You laughed a little but then Rick noticed something was wrong. You were worrying about something as you looked around at the producers, directors, and actors.

"What's goin' on sweetheart?"

"You think I'll make it?"

He lowered his cigarette and asked, "You shot the Mexican stand-off scene in this week's episode?"

You nodded, "Yeah...? Shit...did someone say something? Fuck did I blow it?!"

Rick shook his head, "Oh, no, no, no! You did great! You're all they talk about in the editing room!  You're gonna make it out here, kid."

Rick realized that couldn't be the only thing in your mind. He followed your eyes over to Cliff at the other side of the party.

Rick smiled a little as he murmured so only you could hear, "You know he really likes you?"

You smiled a little, "Ah, you’re just saying that."

Rick laughed and gestured to Cliff, "You really think he gets that cleaned up for just anybody, Y/n? You've seen him on set."

You giggled "I guess you're right."

Cliff made his way through a crowd and made his way back to you and Rick.

He smiled at you, and you smiled at him.

Something told you Rick might have been right...

You were going to make it.

And you were going to have Cliff by your side.

#ouatih #once upon a time in hollywood #cliff booth #cliff booth x reader #rick dalton

[artificialqueens]

Sweet like Sugar (Branjie) - Delia

AN: Hey lovelies! This is my first time writing fic, so please be gentle but also let me know what you think…a little Branjie sugar mommy for your nerves x ps: if you have any questions, comments or concerns feel free to hit me up on @thvnderfuckz pps: tw for some, very minor, implied daddy kink

BLH

25/F/New York City

I’m a 25 year old dancer from Toronto, working to start my career. I like fashion, nights out, and travelling. Seeking a partner who is fun, adventurous, and willing to support me in pursuit of my dream.

Brooke Lynn read over her bio for what must have been the seventh time in as many minutes and let out a sigh. Each draft that she’d written had sounded more robotic than the last. It’d been a long time since she had to write anything like this, having deleted Tinder, Bumble, and HER off her phone not long after she left Toronto. Since moving to New York, she’d discovered that she much preferred going out and finding women to hook up with in person. With her long blonde hair, dancer’s physique, and innate flirtiness, it was easy enough to find someone willing to take her home for the night. Easier, at least, than talking to a girl on an app for weeks, only to find out that she was interested in a long term commitment, and having to deal with their messy emotions after Brooke told them that she wasn’t interested. If there was one thing that she did not do, it was relationships.

And now, she was trying to get paid to be in one.

She’d be lying if she said that she never thought she’d be in a position like this. From the time Brooke had told her friends and family that she’d wanted to pursue dance as a full time career, she’d been given the “wouldn’t you rather something more secure” speech more times, and by more people than she could be bothered to count. Even her older sister Katya, who’d chosen to make abstract semi-sacrilegious art her vocation in life, had tried to suggest to her that she do something with a future that was less uncertain. But Brooke knew that she was born to dance, no matter what anyone tried to tell her to the contrary. If anything, their doubt fuelled her drive, and made it all the sweeter when she’d been offered a role in ensemble of the Broadway production of Moulin Rouge! upon her graduation from Ryerson. The moment that she’d stepped off the plane at JFK and stepped into the apartment that she would be sharing with another ensemble member from the show, Scarlet, she felt as though she was living her wildest dreams come true.

In all of her excitement at the time, Brooke forgot that the most wonderful dreams often lead to the harshest wake ups.

Four months into her run, the cast began to notice a dwindling number of fans at the stage door after each performance. Five months into her run, cast and crew alike began whispering about finding new jobs soon. Six months into her run, on a particularly humid Sunday in July, the cast and crew were gathered by the production team before everyone left the theatre and were told that the show would be closing at the beginning of September, after the Labour Day weekend. Brooke immediately started panicking at the prospect of being out of a job in one of the most expensive cities in the world. There was nothing she wanted less than to have to move back home to Toronto with her tail between her legs.

It had been two years since Moulin Rouge! closed, and although Brooke had managed to avoid making the move back home, she hadn’t been able to get a job performing since. She was always too tall, or too technical, or didn’t have enough personality. She’d been able to find a job in the meantime, teaching classes at a dance studio in Tribeca, but the money she made from that was barely enough to cover her necessities. It certainly didn’t cover luxuries such as brunch with your ex-roommate, as Brooke found out after her credit card was declined at her and Scarlet’s bi-weekly date. She barely had time to try and form an apology before she witnessed Scarlet reaching into her purse and placing a crisp one hundred dollar bill on the table, telling the waitress to keep the sixty dollars in change. Her embarrassed expression transformed into one of jaw-dropped shock as the redhead pulled her from the restaurant.

On the walk back to the subway, Scarlet revealed to Brooke that she’d been various “mutually beneficial relationships” with different men since she’d first moved to the city when she was 19, and that it had been her main source of income even while she was performing.

“It’s easy money, plus it’s kind of empowering,” explained Scarlet in her low voice, which still held a hint of the drawl indicative of her Southern upbringing. “It’s like, they have the money but I have all the emotional power. Without me generously donating my time to them, all these men have are their frigid marriages, or soul sucking jobs. A lot of the time the only thing standing between these powerful, rich men and a complete nervous break is me. And if that’s not power, I don’t know what is. So if I have to laugh at a few bad jokes and kiss a couple of CEOs to be able to live the kind of life I want, all while knowing that I could end any of these men at any given moment, then so be it.”

Oddly inspired by her friend’s speech, Brooke downloaded the sugar dating app onto her phone later that day.

And now here she was, sitting in front of her laptop at 11:00 pm on a Saturday night, drinking a bottle of wine and stress reading her three sentence bio for at least the tenth time. Fuck it, she thought, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

After clicking the “submit” button, Brooke was redirected to a page showing all of the potential sugar daddies in her area. As she scrolled through pages upon pages of photos of headless torsos, she became increasingly regretful of her decision to not filter out men immediately.

CEToEs

Disgusting.

KinkyExec

Nope.

DominantDaddy

Absolutely not.

Brooke was a lesbian, and had known that since she was 14. However, Scarlet told her that there were far more sugar daddies than sugar mommies in the New York area, and that a lot of the time the men didn’t necessarily even want sex. But as she clocked the usernames of several of the daddies on the app, it was clear that the redhead had either lied to her or was somehow the most blissfully oblivious girl in the city.

The blonde promptly returned to her settings page and deselected men as an interest. When she returned to the home page, she was delighted to see the profiles of fifty-or-so women pop up. She began scrolling again, hoping that someone would catch her eye.

WorldsMostPunkRockMoms

Meh. The two blonde women in the thumbnail picture were definitely beautiful, but Brooke didn’t know how she felt about getting involved with a couple who had a child.

Detoxicant

The woman in this picture looked like she’d had a lot of plastic surgery. Still, she was hot. Brooke tapped the little heart icon next to the photo and continued scrolling.

Toward the bottom of the page there was one profile that had a little green dot next to the thumbnail. Brooke took a little comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only one on this app at this time on a weekend night. She clicked on the profile and two pictures filled her screen. The first was a headless torso shot of a woman wearing an oversized Versace t-shirt as a dress. Although her face was out of frame, Brooke could tell that the woman’s hair was a caramel brown, at least at the tips, and went to just below her collarbone. The second image was another faceless picture, but in this one the woman was wearing a spaghetti strapped red dress, showing off her deeply tanned skin and an, in Brooke’s opinion, weirdly specific chest tattoo of a hairless cat atop a red rose. The bio beneath the pictures read:

V 23/F/New York City

no face pics because i gotta stay lowkey. promise i’m not gonna kill you or anything like that, just lookin for a cute girl i can take out and trEat right.

Brooke rolled her eyes at the innuendo and let out a small huff of a laugh. The girl obviously had some sort of sense of humour, which she supposed was important. And it was pretty impressive that someone so young was in a position where they could support someone else financially.

The green dot was still displayed next to V’s username. She was still online. Brooke took a deep breath and clicked the chat icon at the bottom of the screen, typing out a quick, hopefully flirty-but-without-coming-on-too-strong, message.

BLH: I hate to break it to you, but saying ‘I’m not gonna kill you’ sounds exactly like what someone who would kill me would say ;)

Brooke quickly exited out of the app and opened up Instagram to check and see if Katya or her wife had added any new photos of their cats or dog. Before she could even begin typing her sister’s name into the search bar, her phone dinged, letting her know that V had responded.

V: hate to break it to you babe but saying youre looking for a partner sounds like youre tryna open up a lawyers office

Brooke swore under her breathe. She knew she sounded too robotic.

BLH: Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything

V: lol relax mami, youre cute with all your worrying

She bit down on her lower lip, half in frustration and half trying to suppress a smile. V was already teasing her about her worrying, and they hadn’t even met yet.

BLH: Aren’t you more of the mommy in this situation though ;)

V: i mean i usually prefer daddy ;)

Brooke felt a quick rush of heat to her center at the word “daddy”. She closed her eyes trying to stave away memories of various nights in the alleyways behind various bars with various women.

BLH: I think I can make that work ;)

V: listen, not to be too upfront but youre gorgeous and id love to take you out sometime if youd want?

V: we could meet and figure out an allowance or something if thats what you want! ive done this once before and it was a really good experience for both of us…i gave her around $8000 a month for rent and stuff but we could figure out something specially for you if you need somethin different

Brooke could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop when she read the word “month”. She’d never been with one single person for more than three nights, much less on a month to month basis. But V seemed nice at least. And if not nice, she was at least experienced at this kind of arrangement, and was apparently quite generous to boot. Eight thousand dollars a month would cover her rent and utilities almost four times over. Eight thousand dollars a month would mean that she wouldn’t have to worry about getting her card declined at brunch. Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she wouldn’t have to pick up every possible shift at the studio, and could spend more time going to auditions.

Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she was definitely not turning V down right off the bat.

BLH: I’d love that. Name the time and place, I’m free when you are.

BLH: Daddy ;)

Brooke Lynn Hayhoe doesn’t do relationships — but for eight thousand dollars a month, she was willing to fake it.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #scarlet envy #lesbian au #sugar mommy au #sweet like sugar #delia #concrit welcome #tw daddy kink

[ivyveil]

Love is the Punchline 2

the one where you are drunk and want pizza, but your fingers call Harry instead

A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here)

Your heartbeat demanded to be felt through the entire body, your attention memorized by the motion of right to left from your chest to your fingertips.

They were tapping irregularly on the dining table, as if they instinctively knew the beat of your heart breaking. As it had been all week, truthfully, but since work had ended for the week, your thoughts were dominated by the shadows you had hoped left. Liquor didn’t help, particularly the cup in front of you that sullenly watched you make an idiot of yourself in front of your potted plants.

“The cactus doesn’t care, Mr. Grey Goose,” you reasoned, leaning back on your chair slightly to point at the plant, who seemed generally unimpressed by your antics. “He’s a prick anyways. You care too much what others think, just be you.” You blinked, soulfully, at the cup, trying to mentally send it the emotional strength you were lacking.

The cup said nothing, but you felt the stare go from critical to one of pity, the exact emotion you were drinking alone to avoid. Company would just feel sorry for you, and you didn’t know if you could handle the atmosphere of sympathy. It was your fault, anyway.

If anything, you deserved the harsh disapproval of alcohol. Perhaps you even deserved his silence, though it felt incredibly wrong. You traced a line of dew down the side of a water glass, which hadn’t been depleted after an hour of your Official Weekend Breakdown. It had swooped on you quickly. Your morning had been normal, and at work you even managed to forget about the situation for a few hours. When you got back to your home, you had decided to undergo a quick cleaning.

Your closet was under siege, shoes littering the floor from when you kicked them off without bothering to check they went into proper storage. The Questions You Didn’t Like To Ask had been lurking in the corners of your mind, but you managed to set them off for the most part. Who had the strength to go through all that mental analysis, when the answers couldn’t be properly found? You didn’t know what Harry was feeling, because he didn’t tell you. Nothing more to it.

Then, you saw them. A few shirts folded up in the corner, stacked high and surrounded by a fancy ass designer cologne you had never bought before. You still recognized it, and the bitter pain flooded your senses again. The loopy writing of ‘Styles’ on the pocket confirmed it (as if you need confirmation that the silk Gucci shirts weren’t yours, being stuck in the midst of random 5k shirts you had collected over the years).

The entire situation still confused you, whether it was a proper fall-out or just a miscommunication. How to go about solving it was a mind fuckery, leading down roads of self-criticism you couldn’t deal with at the moment.

Your head swam a bit above the current of drunkness to realize the idea of ordering pizza was remarkably brilliant. However, there were a few flaws that kept you from going straight to your phone.

It involved sitting upright, getting out of your chair, and moving to the front door to then converse with the pizza man, collect the pizza box, hand over the money (which then meant you would need to go get money before reaching the door) before coming back safely inside. Which was a problem, because the ceiling kept becoming the floor, and the floor itself kept swaying.

Your body felt smooth, in a numb, little-bit-over tipsy sort of way. Your day had started the same as they had been for the past week, without any texts from him. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Harry to go a few days without contact, his job being fairly demanding, but the situation at hand made you feel as though it was something more. Something more than not having the time to send a quick text.

Not that you had sent one, either. You had written plenty, enough to possibly draft a book called Regrets and Texts, an Autobiography. But none had made it through the consideration pile to be properly sent.

Sometimes there simply weren’t words to explain yourself. (Which might have been a lie, because you had three perfectly good words, but they did a lousy job at making up for your actions). You groaned, loudly, like an injured cow. Unattractive, and somewhat cathartic, because after you got it out of your system you were able to take another sip from your drink. Your eyes squished together as you got it down, your tongue sticking out in half-disgust and half-instinct.

“Why does it hurt so good?” you groaned, keeping your eyes closed. Your cactus mumbled, “What a mess.” You agreed. Everything echoed of repetition; your daily life was holed by what was missing. You didn’t know what could fill it, you were frustrated by the isolation you had trapped yourself in and the physical borders that kept you from where you wanted to be.

Harry wasn’t everything in your life, not even close. You had a multitude of friends, a caring family, those people at work you talk but never tell anything personal to, and you had a lot of hobbies that typically kept you busy around town. You loved Harry, but you weren’t usually constantly consumed by the thought of him.

Harry wasn’t your air, he never was, but for the past few days you couldn’t fucking breathe.

Essentially, you had only begun to realize that you had collaborated with your demons, your own fears, to keep you away from the possibility of happiness. All for what? The fear of being vulnerable, the fear of opening up and saying, “Come take me as you can find me, Harry, this is all I am and I hope to God it’s enough.”

Instead, all you had to say for yourself was, “Don’t.” All you had to text was, “No.”

All he had to say was that he loved you, and put himself out there. Twice. Which you knew, from having plenty of romance-oriented conversations with him in the past, was a big deal. He wasn’t the type to make a huge move, too wrapped up in having to know it would go perfectly before he even considered making a tiny move. He knew he was phenomenal on stage and with his words, but sometimes as a person, there were doubts.

You shifted in your seat and regretted it immediately. Perhaps it was all in your imagination (who knew, at this point), but the sloshing around in your stomach was enough convincing to make you dead-set on finding some starch to consume, and fast. And honestly, fuck the saltines in your pantry – you needed some good, gooey, cheesy pizza to get through tonight.

Your hands, finally, made their way towards your phone, and you opened up the dial app, your fingers clicking on their own accord.

Sometimes our bodies know how to fix our lives better than we do. After all, that’s how you ended up hanging over the toilet at your senior prom, vomiting for 30 minutes. It had meant you lost your chance at hooking up with the cute guy from your physics course, but later in the year you found out he had been sneaking shady stuff in the boys’ drinks to try and up his chances with some of the girls.

If it hadn’t been for your inability to hold a proper amount of drink, you would’ve most likely victim to that type of absolute, unforgivable douche-baggery. Your body was looking out for you, you reckoned.

Now was a similar moment, it seemed. Your body had leaped at the chance, saw your incapable state and just went with pure instinct to try and straighten out your course.

So, instead of the friendly, middle-aged woman named Andrea at your local pizza shop (who you occasionally went to Thursday Knitting Club with, and who knew more about your emotional life than perhaps even you did) it was a deep, slow, masculine voice.

You froze in your chair, feeling aggressively more sober than moments before.

“Hi, this is Harry. Leave meh a message, I’ll get back to yeh when I can.”

Beep.

Stupefied, you pulled your hand back and looked at the screen. The photo you took of him at a carnival was shining back at you, his face painted like a tiger. It had been a fun few days, especially since a family member of his needed a quick babysitter. Walking around with Harry and a tiny child clasped between the both of you had sent your emotions all over for the next month and a half. You’re pretty sure your friends who had kinda picked up on your thing for Haz had been truly tested by your maternally-driven rants for that portion of your life.

“Noooo,” you groaned, putting your phone back down and propping your elbows on the table. You put your head in your hands, mumbling several profanities. The tiny voice in your mind wondered, simultaneously, why you hadn’t hung up yet. You told the voice to mind its own damn business.

“I’m sorry, Haz, I meant to order Andrea. Or the pizza, not the lady. Like, human trafficking is fucked,” you began, squishing your cheeks between your hands and looking at your fridge. His face was too much to look at, it would be too real. Although his cheeks didn’t have pink, sparkly whiskers in real life, the idea was still prevalent.

You fell silent, toying with various words in your mouth and wondering if you would be able to properly speak this time.

“I’ve been thinking, a lot. Questions I don’t want to ask, about myself. They’re conversations with myself I’ve tried to avoid, at all costs, for years now.” A pause. Then, furthered confession.

“I don’t imagine you’re super interested in them, I don’t think I would be if I were you. I think I just hope you hear this and regret not texting me back. Which sounds super elementary once I’ve said it out loud, I mean, I guess I could’ve texted too. But what was I gonna say?” you drawled, gesturing outwards with an open palm to signify that no, you had nothing to say.

Which was a lie, but you hadn’t had much success in telling the truth as of late.

“You wanna know what’s really funny, Haz?” you stared out into nothing, as if you were truly speaking to him and had a momentary revelation. Completely fabricated, but in the haze of your mind it felt like a brand new concept all over again.

Your cactus was suffering from very deep, very tragic second-hand embarrassment in the corner.

“I wanna capture all your words. They’re so beautiful, you’re like a masterpiece and I just want to be there all the time. I wanna see you at like, 1:42 pm and see how the light goes differently ‘cross your face, as the day goes on. Am I making sense? Like, I want to see your morning hair and your afternoon stubble and how quiet you get at night. I’ve gotten pieces of it, but not in full.”

A moment’s pause, a quiet reflection.

“But that’s not what’s funny,” you admitted, sullenly. Your nails grew more interesting as the confession grew deeper, and you picked at them as you spoke. Your apartment was starkly silent, compared to the rush of noise you felt in your head.

“It’s funny how much I love you, that I love you so much my heart hurts and my eyes can’t help but cry because it’s overwhelming.  I don’t think it’s strange, though, but it’s not like I’m well-equipped with this. So I end up pushing you away. That’s fucked up.”

You hiccuped, a sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“Really fucked,” you agreed with yourself, your fingers twirling around a loose piece of your hair again and again. Your phone didn’t have much to say back, so you pushed onward.

“I love you, so I’m trying to let go. I truly am, Haz, swear it, for you and I guess a little for me? You don’t deserve this, you know,” you gestured at yourself, eyes widening to emphasize your point. 

You two had equally seen each other at some of the lowest times, in the worst situations. It was nothing new to have Harry see you breaking apart, and likewise vice versa. Yet, the idea of needing to be put-together in order to jump into something serious was engraved on your skull, the necessity of not needing someone else before having someone else.

“I can’t ignore my fear forever, that I have some secret I didn’t even know about. I don’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes, like I do in theirs. It would break me, Haz.

“It happens every time, I start off going steady with some guy and it’s great, I’m so happy. And I think maybe I’ve got it wrong, that love is possible for me. That it’s not just for our rom-coms and Ryan Goslings of the world.

“But then I start seeing it. And it’s the worst, you know? ‘Cause I can’t stop it, it’s just a byproduct of being with me. The disillusionment starts in their eyes, it’s when they find me. It’s like a curtain’s been lifted and the guy started tearing down my walls because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do.

“And it turned out, what was behind it wasn’t what he was looking for. Which has me freaked, because how is my true self different from what I’m aware of - I’m not projecting a false image of myself out there, right? I’m just altogether too much, and not enough. And I don’t know how to fix me.”

You traced the condensation of your water, tears glassing up your vision. This was a portion of insecurity you hadn’t fully shown Harry before, mostly because it felt like a massive pity-fest and you knew he would listen with large, puppy eyes and hold you until your chest didn’t feel so tight. Nothing would be solved, though, so it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

“And I don’t want that for us,” you confessed, choking back the urge to properly cry, “I like it when you look at me and I don’t notice any change in your eyes. It’s just you and it’s just me.”

You sniffled, the tears escaping nonetheless and rolling down your cheeks. You smudged them off with hurried hands before they went much further, wanting to fully focus on the task at hand.

“For me, I don’t know if I could’ve, if I could’ve survived seeing us break apart, like that. Dramatic, yeah, but I’m just tryin’ to be honest,” you took a deep breath.

“Yeah, honest. But I suppose we have, now, haven’t we? Because I couldn’t say the right words when it mattered.”

You laughed, a feeling of foolishness washing over your soul and delighting you in the most tragic of ways. How sad, drunkenly calling the boy you loved when you had told him, only a week ago, that he wasn’t worth the risk of going for it? A mess of hypocrisy, you knew you had called your friends’ exes horrible names for doing a lot less.

What was most frustrating, was you clearly could see how unproductive your mind-set was. You knew the proper tips and training for taking care of yourself (the amount of bubbles that had been born in your bathroom the past two days alone could fill the entire sky, you swear) and you recognized your self-worth. It wasn’t a situation of having a devastating wreckage of insecurity to battle, but more like when it was called into question, your ego hesitated a bit too much to claim the title as Worthy.

Letting out a bitter sigh, you put your head on the counter, next to the phone that was recording one of your lowest lows and transferring it in waves to the man who used to help you back up. And all he would do is realize how fortunate he was, to have escaped the mess you felt colliding against your rib cage and into your throat.

Kissing him had felt like you had never kissed anyone, before. He felt assured, comfortable. It had taken a lot to help ease you into ‘romantic’ situations before, but with Haz it felt more like an expression than a deed. More like a physical manifestation of how he made you feel, how you wanted to share that love through your lips. How you wanted to draw his feelings out from his. It was a symphony of simplicity, which was mind-blowing because you had never imagined it could be that good without the nervous laughter and self-conscious puddle of anxiety beforehand.

“I heard you crying,” you murmured, half-unaware you were speaking out loud.

“I heard it, and I didn’t know what to do. And that scared me, maybe even more than how I feel for you in general. Because I always thought I would be able to go and fix things, situations, people...but all I did was listen. All I did was listen,” a lump in your throat began to obstruct the passage of your voice, you knew he could hear the tears coming now, faster “and I hate myself for that. I hate that I couldn’t have been there for you, when I’m trying do to right for the both of us. I just can’t tell anymore, where the lines are. Where I love you as a friend and love you as something more.”

Your voice cracked by the end, a breakage of both spirit and will. Your chest felt tight, your heart had given up long ago, sitting in its cage and chain-smoking until the doomsday. Nothing could be salvaged from this, speaking to him in that state would only prolong the suffering between you both.

“I gotta go, Haz,” you apologized softly. “I need my pizza, and you need to stop listening to me word-vomit everything when it’s frankly too late in the game.”

Your finger hesitated over the red ‘end’ button, unable to bring itself to do it before you could plead for a sober chance to discuss everything.

“Just text me, okay? I don’t want this to change things between us, I want us to look at each other.”

With that, a singular beep signaled the end of your Next Big Regret. Or what would be, when you remembered in the morning.

You groaned again, moving to properly call the pizza shop, being very conscious of the buttons you pressed along the way. Maybe you’d make it a deep crust, you deserved it.

“Thanks, have a nice night,” you grunted, accepting the box and handing over what was most likely an absurd tip for the 10-minutes-late delivery. You didn’t particularly care, half-hoping the karma would impact your life in the future and maybe you would win the lottery. There’s no harm in trying, after all.

When you shuffled back to your dining room, your phone screen had just turned to black again. Racing over, dumping the box on the table, you reached out and snatched up the device quickly, feeling your heart beat back to life and pittering up your throat.

When wouldn’t nerves be the absolute death of you?

One missed call from “H”.

You stared at the notification for a long time, allowing it to register in your psyche before unlocking your phone. Calling him back meant the continuation of a conversation you were, at the time, very pleased to be having one-sided. It took away the possibility of hearing his response in real life, in hearing his breath and knowing the thoughts in the intricate patterns of his sighs and groans.

The drunk part of you urged your fingers to hit ‘call back’ so that any fuck ups could be blamed on the vodka, as opposed to your sober self who would have no where to hide behind. It was quite the conundrum.

Another notification.

This time, Voice Mail from “H”.

You hit “Listen.”

He sounded tired. Really tired.

“Hey. I, I just got a message from yeh. Dunno if you’re awake still and just didn’t wanna answer. Or if yeh fell asleep. Or got pizza, I don’t know, fuck.”

Silence.

An exhausted laugh.

“I truly...God, Y/N, I truly don’t know what to say. Those men were properly insane, to not love every bit of you. I wish I could say y’ could have all of me, but I...”

A lump rose in your throat, eyes filling up quickly with tears. You sat down as he was speaking, covering your eyes with a hand and shaking your head. Hearing his voice again, was just too real. Everything felt overly saturated and dramatic, but that little voice in your head reminded you this was what love was, sometimes. Just on another level from all else, the craziness is just a slice of the experience.

“When you said we wouldn’t be worth it, that shattered me, love. Not love, sorry. Didn’t mean to, slipped.”

He groaned, and you could practically see him in a hotel room somewhere, sitting at the business desk over his phone, rubbing his hands down his face. The desk lamp would be glowing, the only light source in the room.

“Yeh can’t say we’re friends and just friends, and call me with this. Isn’t fair. Not when I’m tryin’ to...to get over you.”

You knew, you knew that. The guilt was already creeping up your lungs.

“I still love yeh. But I can’t love y’ouand know you love me, and not...it’s just….I can’t. ‘M sorry. I also don’t think it’s best we talk over phone, yeah? Just complicates things.”

The message ended.

Your apartment was cloaked in silence, a deep depression. Harry had been so rational, when you were the one fighting for the title. You were utterly confused as to what you were supposed to do now, after such emotional turmoil. Your drunken mind was bitter, mostly at yourself.

Why wasn’t Harry worth fighting for, to you? A day ago, you had realized how much you would’ve sacrificed for him, if given the proper chance, and then it had occurred to you that the chance had come and gone. And for some odd reason, you hadn’t recognized the flashing neon lights until it was too late.

“He still loves me,” you whispered, curling up in the seat and blinking at the wall.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, mind racing a million miles a second. Eventually, an idea came to mind. One you felt would solve everything, would change the tragedy to something salvageable.

Maybe the flashing lights were still there, ‘late’ was better than ‘never.’ You had previously only wanted Harry to see you for your strengths, for him to see you in radiant light and want nothing but your positives. Perhaps to show more of your weaknesses, it could make the situation more fucking realistic. You huffed, silently telling yourself off for not registering how insufferable the idea of giving up loving Harry was. This was worth it, it moved your soul into something more aligned, closer to the emotion of feeling ‘okay.’ And maybe that’s all you could do, fight to feel more okay. Do the actions that made your heart feel lighter and true, and let the outcomes fall as they may.

The next morning, your bank account had a flight ticket to America charged. The price was an absolute joke, but if that’s what it took to get to Harry, love was going to be the punchline.

----------------------------------------------------

  A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!  

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

[pickeringawd]

TITLE — your gift of nonchalance (part 1). WARNINGS — some swearing. WORD COUNT — 2,970 words. AUTHOR’S NOTE — this was requested some time ago (try months ago) but i found it in my drafts and suddenly got motivated to finish it. it ended up running a bit long so i’ll be breaking it into two parts. i hate that i don’t post as much as i want to but i suffer from writer’s block all year round, 24/7, and it’s sometimes hard for me to fight through it. anyway, hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading !

You can always tell. Or, at least, you have a hunch. He’d waltz into the room and you’d notice a red tint to his cheeks, or a sudden pep in his steps, or a dazed-like glimmer in the depths of his eyes, as if he’s just come down from a high. It’s a body language you, his best friend, have come to comprehend.

The tabloids do nothing to appease your suspicions—a quick Google search, a bad and addictive habit, and those suspicions are intensified. It’s a stupid thing to do, even downright masochistic, but you still tap on the small search icon and skim the articles, eyes rimmed with tears by the time you reach the last sentence.

This time, however, it’s different; you smell her on him.

Blessed with a short hiatus and fortunate to have it fall on a weekend, Shawn can barely contain his excitement at the prospect of spending time with you. You object at first, because you’d rather he visit his family or hang out with friends, but he assures you that he sees them plenty, and delighted to see him—physically and not digitally—at last, it’s all the convincing you need.

The door to his condo in downtown Toronto opens, revealing an exhausted-looking 19-year-old boy. He greets you with a lopsided smile and outstretched arms, hands motioning you forward. “Reunited and it feels so good,” he sings, voice all raspy.

Giggling and adding an off-key “reunited ‘cause we understood,” you step into his embrace and relish the familiar warmth of his hold, his body seamlessly moulding onto yours. Burying your face in the crook of Shawn’s neck, all snug and soft, you sigh contentedly, deliriously happy to see him.

You run your hands up and down his hoodie-clad back and inhale, the scent wafting into your nose overpowering all other senses, your hands freezing in place.

The smell is distinct but foreign—a potent scent of vanilla extract, sweet. Puzzled, you try to place a face to the fragrance but come up short. Who could have managed to brand themselves all over Shawn? Aaliyah doesn't wear perfume. You feel a tightness deep in your gut and blind jealousy cloud your judgment. Your arms have gone slack, grip loosened.

It’s become somewhat of a tradition but after his return from touring, or a particularly long studio session, that first embrace would last several minutes. (And sometimes he’d pick you up and you’d round your legs around him, chest flush against his, and he’d sit the both of you down, hands grabbing at you—your hips, hair, waist—as you straddled his thighs, trapping him in a vice-like grip, afraid he’d disappear with a gust of the wind.)

So when he misinterprets your reaction and prematurely pulls back from the hug, a weight pulls on your heart. He’s too tired to notice the break in tradition.

Crossing your arms over your chest, an attempt to seem composed, cool, you stare at the hardwood floor, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip in order to avoid spilling whatever question resides at the tip of your tongue.

Yet, the questions have birthed a storm in your mind. You wanna ask him about the fragrance and the potential woman it belongs to. You wanna question him about the 25-year-old woman he mentioned in an interview last year, about Hailey Baldwin, about the accidental 2 AM text messages meant for prospective hookups.

You also wanna curse him for being so stupidly oblivious to your feelings and for being able to elicit such juvenile schoolgirl-crush feelings out of you in the first place.

“’M so happy you’re here.” His voice pulls you out of your short reverie. You study his face, the usual indications absent; no tint in his cheeks or glimmer dancing in those brown eyes. Yet, without a doubt, you’re certain he’s just hooked up with someone.

“It was either here or Drake’s. Turns out Aubrey—that's right, we’re on a first name basis—had a thing.” You’re good at masking the heartache, though. You have to. You’ve been doing this for almost a decade. Pathetic, silent pining.

He deadpans, “and all the happiness has been sucked out. I’m all dry. You can go home now.”

“Pickering is a long way.” Closing the door behind you, you reach for his hand and entwine your fingers with his, a gesture of peace. “Besides, Drake doesn’t look nearly as cute with a bedhead.”

His free hand flies to his hair and as he flattens it, his curls peek between his fingers. “Took a quick nap. Fuckin’ jet-lagged.”

“No kidding. You look like hell, Mendes. How long was your nap?”

“Long enough, mom.”

You knit your brows, “clearly not. Go back to bed.”

“Y/N, it’s cool. I’m not gonna ditch you.”

“It wouldn't be the first time I had to keep myself company in your home. Your condo and I know each other well enough. Besides, I’ll still be here when you wake up. Now go because I will pick you up and carry you myself.”

“Only if you come with.” He starts pulling on your hand, coaxing you forward, but you remain resilient.

After several minutes of pestering, he gives in and trudges back to his bedroom. You hear the faint click of his door. Suddenly lightheaded, you lean against the nearest wall for support. The Everything-Is-Fine facade melts away, leaving nothing but nausea and pain in its wake. You're overreacting, you think. This could all very well be a misunderstanding. Nevertheless, you feel an itching need to get some fresh air and bake. Yes, baking will make everything better.

You’re bent over the counter, spreading chocolate frosting onto freshly-made cupcakes, when Shawn comes padding into the kitchen. Fingers combing through his curls in a futile attempt to tame them, he lets out a yawn and joins you. He slides a hand down the length of your back, a silent request, and pauses long enough for you to put the butter knife down and pivot into his awaiting embrace.

“I’m the world’s worst host.” He mumbles into your hair.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the worst. In the top fifty, perhaps.” You correct.

A considerable weight lifts off your shoulders as he pulls you flush against him and tightens his arms around you, prolonging the hug. He's all warm and soft from his nap.

“I better place fifty, then.”

“You’re number fourty-three.”

“I’ll take it.” He says, tilting his head back a little and lifting a finger to your chin, nudging it up so he can stare at you. “What’s the matter?”

Your heartbeat quickens at his question. And almost like a switch, all the questions and the confusion regarding that one scent—a scent that still lingers on him—come flooding back into your mind. Cupcakes be damned.

Maybe you can bake a cake.

You shrug. “Nothing. Why would anything be the matter?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between both of yours, studying the expression hidden in the specks of your irises. “You bake when you’re upset.”

After a beat, you break the eye contact. “No, I don’t. I had some time on my hands, that’s all.” Another shrug.

“Okay.” He’s unconvinced but doesn’t push the subject.

“Okay.”

"Okay.” He echoes, playful brown eyes rolling to the back of his head in mock annoyance.

Pushing on his stomach, you pull away from his embrace and go back to your cupcakes, flipping him the bird.

Laughing, he grabs a cupcake and dips his finger into the icing before wrapping his lips around the chocolate-covered digit. He pulls a bar stool closer to you and sits down, body facing yours. Eyes skittering to your profile, he touches your elbow to get your attention, and smiles when you make eye contact. “This is really good.”

“Don’t look so surprised.” You stifle a smile. “I’m quite the baker.”

His smile widens and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies at the sight. Subtle eyes skim over the soft curls ontop his head before gliding down to those big doe-like brown eyes once more. Drawn back by some sort of invisible magnetic pull.

Feeling overly sappy, and low-key embarrassed, you scoop a small amount of frosting from the bowl and smear it on the tip of Shawn's nose. A distraction. Startled, mouth agape, he fails to react fast enough a second time as you scoop another load and mark his cheek. But within the next second, he's up and has you pinned against the counter. He's got one hand firmly pressing you against the counter and the other dancing around the frosting bowl's rim, his gaze mischievous.

“Shawn.” You warn.

“Where was my mercy?” He tuts.

Several fruitless attempts to wiggle free from his grasp later, you slacken beneath his hold. You bat your eyelashes innocently his way and singsong, “I'm begging you for mercy.”

He snorts. “Using my lyrics against me won't work.” But he pulls his hand back from the bowl anyway. “I'll spare you. On one condition.”

“I'm listening.” But you're not. Not really. Not when the weight of his hand is burning a hole through your T-shirt. Not when you're wondering how it'd feel to have his fingers splayed across your bare stomach.

“Lick it off.”

And just like that, the thought dissipates. Though not uncommon Shawn behaviour, (you saw this coming a mile away), there's an unfamiliarity to the words, to the moment. A moment that has your stomach tightening with anticipation. My fucking pleasure, you think. Feigning nonchalance, you grab both sides of his neck and lower his head so you can catch the tip of his nose with your tongue. The taste is sweet, the consistency rich, but you're much more focused on the rapid pulsing of Shawn's heart beneath your fingers. Gently maneuvering his head to the side, you press your tongue flat against his cheek and lick off the last bit of chocolate icing.

“Gross,” he whispers.

You pull back slightly, just enough to stare at his face, but not enough to create any significant distance. “Like you didn't just tell me to do that.” You wipe the remaining moisture from his cheek with your thumb, and let your hands trail down his shoulders before loosely encircling his waist.

“Yeah, to lick the icing off, not eat me like a fuckin' sundae.”

“Same difference.”

“Yeah?” With his free hand, he grabs your chin, tilts your head to the side, and very dramatically licks your cheek, tongue swirling and all.

“Shawn!” Squirming under his hold, you untangle your arms from around him, and attempt to pull his hand from your face. An unsuccessful endeavor.

“Same difference,” he shrugs.

“Fine,” you giggle as his hand, the one pressing against your stomach, shifts to your side, fingers prodding a very ticklish area. “You win.” Giggling some more. “They're two different things!”

He ceases all movement and steps back. Much to your dismay. “All I wanted to hear.”

“Fuckin' asshole.” You mutter, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Reclaiming your spot near the tray of cooling cupcakes and bowl full of thick frosting, you glance back at him. “Anyway, how was your nap?”

“Much needed. Was so jet-lagged.” Creeping up behind you, he runs his thumb over your cheek to rid of the wetness and plants a quick kiss there in apology.

You ponder your next move, rationale and desperation tugging you every which way, you’re dizzy from it.

Finally, you just blurt it out. “Was someone here?”

“Yeah. A friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “What’s with the question?”

“Nothing. Just—it would’ve been nice to meet her.”

You glance in his direction. His stare is fixed on you and you wish you could read his mind and find out exactly what’s going on in there. But you can't. And you wonder if he's shutting you out on purpose.

“Some other time, perhaps.”

His reaffirmation of her gender drives a sword through your aching heart. You didn’t expect him to be so candid about it. Not that he sleeps with all of his girl friends. On the contrary, he has a lot of platonic female friends, whom you are quite close to. You just know this one, in particular, with her unfamiliar scent, might have been more than just a friend.

“Sure.”

You can’t help the images that overflow each corner of your imagination. All you can see is Shawn’s large hands in her hair, gripping her waist, coasting down her bare back. All you can hear are her moans and Shawn’s sighs of pleasure and it fucking hurts. It hurts so much you have to will your mind to focus on something else.

“You know what?” You start to grab the butter knife and whisk off the counter. “I actually have a lot of homework this weekend.” Quickly washing the utensils in the sink, your attention then shifts to the pastries. Wanting to store them away, you begin sifting through Shawn's cabinets for an airtight container. “I should get going soon.”

“Get going? I thought we were spending the weekend together. Can’t you do it here?”

“No, it’s not a good idea. I need to focus.”

“You can focus here. I won’t be in your way, I promise.” When you don't respond, he continues. “You can stay in the guest bedroom. I won't bother you when you're doing schoolwork.”

There is no homework. You're simply trying to make the slideshow of images running through your mind stop. And you can't do that in the presence of the perpetrator. A foolproof excuse would've been ideal. One he couldn't poke holes into. But you've made up your mind. “Where do you keep your plastic containers again?”

Sighing, he pulls open the right cabinet. “Geoff reorganized my kitchen while I was away.” You share a look. “Don't ask.”

Container in hand, you walk over to the pastries and begin storing them. You figure you'll bag two to-go and leave the rest for him. Securing the lid, you grab the container and move towards the fridge, where Shawn is standing, unmoving, his wide frame blocking the door handle.

“Shawn, I need access to the fridge.”

He doesn't budge. “You're avoiding me,” he says. “Why?”

“I was licking your face two seconds ago. Clearly, I'm not.” You mumble.

“Look at me, then.”

But you can't. Just standing so close to him has your heart beating a mile a minute. You can't imagine what staring into those beautiful eyes will do. You curse him again. And you curse your heart for choosing today of all days, and this moment of all moments, to claim permanent residency on your sleeve.

“Y/N.” He tries. No answer. Sighing once more, he grabs the container from your hands and places it inside the fridge. He then proceeds to grab you by the waist, pick you up, and gently sit you down on the counter. He positions his hands on either side of your frame, trapping you. You run a hand through your hair, frustration boiling deep within you.

“Is it something I said?”

He tries to follow your gaze but you persist. The persistence proves difficult, though, because of the forced point of view; he has you almost at eye level. Yet, you manage to elude his gaze.

“Is it because of the licking?” The silence doesn't faze him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I thought we were playing around.” He reaches for your hand and entwines your fingers. “Hey, talk to me. Please.”

He's being overly apologetic. And for no good reason. You feel bad. You hate that you're causing him so much anguish but you can't very well come out and disclose the real issue. So you lie. “I have a lot of homework.”

He doesn't buy it. “And I said you could do it here.”

Finally meeting his eyes, “I'll never get it done here. You know that.”

He stares at you for a second, eyebrows drawn. He's contemplating the severity of the moment and whether to prod or not. You've seen him do that on multiple occasions. He's nothing if not sensible. You lower your gaze, the intensity of his stare too powerful. But he doesn't allow it. Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head up. “Is this really about homework? Did something happen while I was napping?”

“Yes, it's about homework. And no, nothing happened,” you lie.

“Swear?”

“Okay, Shawn, I have to go. I don't have time to sit here and have this pointless back and forth with you.” You try to pull your hand back from his grasp but he only tightens his hold.

“You're upset about something, I'm not a fucking idiot. And as much as I wanted, no, needed, to spend time with you this weekend, I'll give you your space. I just thought we told each other everything, Y/N. It's not fair of you to be mad at me and not give me a chance to atone for what I did.”

Your heart breaks. It completely shatters at his words. And you have to summon divine strength to keep from wrapping your arms around him and kissing away those pouty lips. You conclude that it's best he never finds out. That this friendship is too important to ruin over juvenile feelings. “I'll swing by tomorrow, okay? I have to go.”

He steps back and helps you down the counter, though you could've managed just fine by yourself. He lets go of your hand once you get to the door and slips it into the pocket of his sweatpants, instead.

“Come back to me, okay?”

You open the door and walk out into the hallway. “I will,” and after a beat. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

Somehow, you have a hard time believing that.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes au #type: angst #title: your gift of nonchalance

[apocvlypsed]

( wiz khalifa vc )  yeah... uh huh, u know what it is -- linc is addicted 2 bringing new muses !

hello hello my loves, i present to you my socal sweetheart, shiloh correia! tap the clickity click to read more about this chill dude !!

reece king. — oh, have you met shiloh correia? he is a twenty two year old cis male that is feeling phlegmatic about the planet’s imminent doom. a gym receptionist, this leo is known around town as the viscerotonic, because he is bona fide & mellow, as well as distrait & extemporaneous. hopefully, loh will survive. 

alright here we go: a very rushed, disorganized draft of his background because i have to leave for a doc’s appointment soon!! ( tw for illness, mentions of possible death, mentions of hospitals, mentions of homophobia )

backstory:

his name is shiloh, he's 22, and he works as a receptionist at the local boujee gym!! he moved to hawley when he was 19ish because he was in pittsburgh for testing and like... decided he might as well stay in the area a while to escape his smothering family? 

born & raised in los angeles, so he's got one of those very chill, relaxed personalities. like... someone spills coffee on him? 'it's cool, man, really. good fashion statement.' survive a 5-year battle with leukemia? 'awesome, great, thanks doc.' just... very easy-breezy, chill vibes. he can often be misinterpreted as caring too little, but he’s just a very serene soul.

he kinda didn't have much of a real childhood after he got diagnosed with leukemia when he was 13. he was in and out of the hospital for a couple years before things got to be too taxing on his parents, and they sent him to a live-in treatment center shortly after his 15th birthday. they couldn’t handle Seeing Him Like That when things took a turn, but they said the real reason was the transit bills. going back and forth added up so much, and with not a lot of money to spare, it was too much for them to shoulder. shiloh didn’t question it because like... he knew how hard this was on his parents and younger sisters, he could see it. it saddened him to go to this treatment center though, because every shred of normalcy was ripped away. he could no longer go to school when he felt up for it -- his parents suggested getting lessons at the center, but shiloh insisted on staying enrolled at his high school. he learned mainly through emails and work brought to him by his friend elijah.

his younger sisters ( twins, sara & mackenzie, about 8 at the time ) would visit him in the center because they missed him? shiloh was very ill, but his siblings would take the bus across thecity and bring books for him to read to them like how he did at home. so this 15-16 y/o kid would be hooked up to chemo, literally reading harry potter quietly to his little sisters, making sure to do every single silly character voice, and look at them to gasp at the scary parts. admittedly he was quite low energy, but he put considerable effort into seeming 100% for them, so they wouldn’t worry. ( one time sarah asked him if he was going to come home sometime soon, and saying he didn’t know literally broke shiloh’s heart. after they left, he cried a lot. )

that’s kind of shiloh in a nutshell too. going above and beyond for others, not quite at what he would call his expense because it doesn’t bother him... but it kind of is at his expense in instances where he was ill and he pushed himself to extremes to quell peoples’ worries. he’s always been a charitable soul. 

he returned home when he was 17, successfully in remission, and he would spend every waking moment with his sisters when he wasn’t at school. but remission was short-lived. he was at a party with his best friend elijah when the nausea and nosebleeds hit, and his classmate delayed calling an ambulance until all the alcohol was hidden. during that delay, shiloh lost consciousness. elijah fought his way into the ambulance. he held shiloh’s hand all the way there, right until the moment he woke up.

treatment gradually picked up again. some chemo visits turned into constant returns to the hospital. shiloh picked up pneumonia at one point, and school was just out of the question. elijah visited him on weekdays and his parents on weekends, so it worked for a bit, keeping their relationship masked. linking fingers in the stupid hospital hallway, taking slow walks along the terrace. but then shiloh’s family surprised him on his birthday. so did elijah. and it was a mess.

after elijah left, his parents were basically like, ‘we love you, but no. no. you can’t be This and That. you can’t be both.’ meaning sick and gay. his mother spent an extra hour there lecturing shiloh and crying about how the doctors said his prognosis wasn’t looking good, why would he do this to himself if he knew he could be passing soon? why would her boy purposefully deny himself entry to heaven? shiloh should have been angry, livid. but he... wasn’t. his natural disposition wasn’t conducive to getting defensive and he just didn’t have that kind of energy in him. so he just sat in his hospital bed and listened to his mother crying and cursing him, cursing their situation, praying to god for forgiveness on his behalf. when she finished, he offered her a tiny, tired smile. he squeezed her hand and murmured, “thanks ma.”  after she left, shiloh had to sit with that. all of what she’d said. and it kind of changed his attitude about the leukemia. his test results came back worse, and things took another, more drastic hit. things really got bad for the subsequent six months. it was a rapid decline, probably the worst he’d ever experienced over the course of his illness. he couldn’t be as sociable, or as vibrant. smiles of ease became grimaces because no amount of painkillers could keep him comfortable. one time, when his sisters came to visit, he stood up to bring them to the cafeteria for ice cream and fainted in front of them. he slept for days, but the bags under his eyes never ceased. he got thinner. his hands shook when he held elijah’s hand. and for the first time in all of this, shiloh realized he truly might not make it.

elijah kept things normal. well. as normal as they could be. aside from a quiet “how’s it going?” and a couple minutes of leukemia-talk, they’d indulge in other things. watching netflix curled up in shiloh’s bed. sneaking peanut m&ms in for shiloh. bringing homework because shiloh insisted he was going to graduate that year, with elijah, with their friends. sometimes elijah’s visits consisted of watching shiloh sleep. and that was fine. every time that happened, he’d leave a note, so shiloh knew he’d stopped by.

if asked now, shiloh wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the day when things stopped getting worse and started getting better. maybe it had something to do with elijah asking him to their own prom and getting the nursing staff in on it. maybe it had something to do with being able to leave the care center, just for the night, and forget that his own body was the enemy.

on his 18th birthday, shiloh no longer looked like a shadow of himself. he looked healthier -- not 100%, but certainly not as terrible as before. “you look hot,” was elijah’s response when he came in after a week of not visiting -- training for soccer, he’d said -- and shiloh greeted him with a smile that was, for the last few months, unusually void of pain. 

on a warm, golden march day, shiloh got results of his blood test saying he was officially in remission for a second time. and god, it felt so good. so freeing. he pushed through the last of his graduation requirement and was able to walk with his class to receive an honorary diploma -- his real one came two months later, after completing some online courses.)

naturally, he and elijah broke up so they could venture off and do their own things. shiloh didn’t want to be a burden. elijah went to school abroad. they still talk sometimes.

the correia’s, however, are worriers. they weren’t convinced that shiloh was alright, that he could go off somewhere far away and come back in one piece. so they spoke to his aunt and uncle in pittsburgh, pa and worked out a deal -- he could go stay with them for the summer working for their law firm. the east coast had better treatment if he ever needed it during that timeframe. but at the end of the summer, they expected shiloh back in la with them.

there were a few scares in pittsburgh, but the bloodwork never showed any dangerous levels that couldn’t be fixed by some isolated treatment, or rest. by his 19th birthday, shiloh had been steadily in remission for half a year. aside from some long-term side effects from treatments, he experienced no lingering discomfort. 

while browsing the welcome center at the airport, waiting for his flight home, shiloh stumbled upon a brochure for a small town called hawley and just... fell in love with the way snow dusted the small streets in the cover photo? the freshness of the air, or how the pamphlet described it, at least. so he called his parents and spoke through their protests. “ma, dad... i’m gonna stay out here a while.” and then when his mother attempted to power scold her way into getting her son home, he hung up the phone. 

he moved into a small studio apartment and landed a job as the receptionist at the local upscale gym! he honestly adores his job. sometimes dealing with stella from yoga is a bit much, but the contact and the stories he hears... it’s worth it. plus, the gym is super awesome and there might be a cute boy there he’s kinda into, on the down-low. ;)

shiloh’s just very easygoing and can converse with anyone. he’s agreeable and it takes a lot for him to get offended because honestly, everything kind of pales in comparison when you’ve barely survived your own body attacking itself.

he lives paycheck to paycheck most of the time. gladly. he’s enjoying his simple life, his normal life, existing without being tethered to wires and tubes and hospital cleaning smells. he probably always burns sweet-smelling candles because the scent of those hospital rooms is kind of ingrained in his memory. he just... he loves absorbing it all. the mid-afternoon sun, the silly coffee shop people, the way the panels of hawley sidewalks don’t always align just right. he’s thriving here, just breathing minute to minute.

headcanons

all in all, he’s very unbothered by the asteroid because he just... feels so lucky to be here? and he can’t change anything about a big rock careening toward the planet. so he’ll enjoy his time and not worry about it. because worrying is forfeiting valuable time he can just be spending having a laugh or enjoying the fresh air.

he’ll say he doesn’t care about snapchat streaks but then bombard you if your streak is in danger.

he sings! he’ll like, loop piano chords and a mellow beat and make up some r&b song about the pasta he’s making for dinner. he sounds like... a mix between daniel caesar and kevin garrett. just v chill and like warm honey. he can also lowkey rap really well but... shh... it’s a secret.

he kinda dresses very stereotypically la despite being in pennsylvania now? a lot of basics with loud details. he also really likes painting his nails in those cool holographic colors? yee

the first thing he did when he moved to pittsburgh was teach himself how to cook super well because he needed to make up for all the Shit he ate while in treatment. so get ready... ya boy’s gonna make you a masterpiece for dinner !

definitely doesn’t mention his illness a lot. his parents are constantly calling worried about the status of his remission so like... if someone acts really worried he’ll be like, “i’m fine, no symptoms, chill” and not even realize he didn’t tell them about his past. he’s just... all about living in the moment so things get lost in the shuffle.

he shamelessly plays words with friends while at the reception desk. pls tell him a good 4-letter word he can make with Z, K, I, and N bc he is struggling.

his footsteps are straight up silent. he moves so gracefully like.... he could sneak up on even the most alert people, and it’s mostly always by accident. he’s just got that calm air about him where he commands attention but in a subtle way. so people won’t notice him enter the room, but they will be locked in by his intrigue once he’s inside.

“pls remember to hydrate today xo” -- an actual text from shiloh correia.

he wears a LOT of hoodies layered with denim jackets. don’t judge him, it’s COLD here !!! (he says when it’s like... literally 60 degrees out... yikessss.

refuses to buy snow boots. his combats will suffice. and tbh buying snow boots feels like admitting defeat? even tho he chose to live here? he doesn’t want to seem like that wimp cali boy that can’t handle the northeast. *cue shiloh buying yet another heated blanket*

never learned how to drive?? so that’s super fun ! someone try to teach him, i’ll cry

as for connections, like.. anything? he’s been here for a solid 3 years, so there’s def potential for lots of stuff! aight i gotta run but i will be on mobile/discord !!  pls come love me, i love u xoxo

#hawley:intro #҉ greetings & salutations ! intro. #҉ tell me pretty lies ! shiloh. #illness tw #homophobia tw

[flavorednarry]

i was tagged by @blazinginbus1 a very very long time ago and tonight i have decided to finally get over with the procrastination and clear up my drafts ! And oh! by the way.. thank you Emily :D

Rules: Write 92 truths about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged.

what was your…

last drink: water

last phone call: I called the customer care support of a travel agency who sent me an email stating i have been their loyal member for so long that they want to offer me a highly discounted vacation trip to the Bahamas. LOL ! dont judge me, i was intrigued and bored this afternoon.

last text message: “and the cruise insurance cost is $25” to a friend who was as bored as me and had expressed her wish to fly to the east coast and meet sometime this year..

last song you listened to: Counting Stars by One Republic

last time you cried: It was late january this year.. i re-read @narryhadalittleliam ’s DtRH verse

have you ever…

dated someone twice: nope

been cheated on: nope

kissed someone and regretted it: nope

lost someone special: yes.. dont wanna talk about it.. :(

been depressed: yes.. the quarter-life-crisis got me and suddenly all my school and college friends got estranged.. i started spending more time on the internet on weekends (cooped up indoors listening to music, looking for new tunes because old ones were reminiscent of so many things that had happened in the past) instead of hanging out with friends like i normally used to.. During one such weekend, i was thinking of all the overnight adventures we had had together and that lead me to search for a song with keywords “midnight memories” on youtube.. and that is how i discovered One Direction ! The song although, was not relatable to my phase of depression, it turned out to be a happiness-filled-spirit-uplifting one! Then one video lead to another and I became a full-fledged 1D stan.

in the past year have you…

made a new friend: yes, i flew to west coast to meet the friend i mentioned in the text message QnA above and she introduced me to her other friend who is sadly now just a name in my FB friends-list

fallen out of love: ehhh.. yeah, sure.. i’d like to think so.

laughed until you cried: yes.. courtesy POTUS, the late night shows have been hilarious !

met someone who changed you: eww.. the first person that comes to my mind as an answer to this question is my mom.. she visited me in the US and stayed for 2 months and did not fail to have a sob-fest over how she fears i’ll forever be lonely because i refuse to get married in my twenties.. after she went back to India, i realised how much more happier i was before her arrival and now it feels like i was attacked by a dementor and all the happiness has been sucked out of me and that reminds of remus lupin who had offered harry potter a chocolate bar as cure.. so i now ensure i always have chocolate bars on me.. just in case another dementor swoops in..

found out who your true friends are: yes, sadly there arent many, sigh.. maybe just one.. or two.. or none.. idk.. i believe if i cant be a true friend to anyone, neither can i have any.. and since i have lost touch with all my friends.. i no longer believe any of them care about me enough.. sh*t! this is so sad! m gonna resort to stating Niall as my true friend henceforth! he’s been there throughout last year.. throughout the hiatus.. is still around, keeps in constant touch and i love him back for all of this and more! so yeah, no one’s better than Niall!

kissed anyone on your followers/following: i honestly did not understand this question.. i am gonna just say ‘no’ to this. Lol

how many people on your tumblr do you know irl: none

do you want to change your name: nope

what time did you wake up today: 7 AM

what were you doing at midnight last night: developing a software program.. :P it was a busy week at work.. had the itch to finish off atleast 20% of the pending items before resuming on monday

name something you can’t wait for: niall’s second single

what is the one thing you wish you could change about your life: i wish i had friends belonging to my demographic here in Florida to hangout with.. everyone i know here in person is a work-colleague in thier 40s and 50s..

what are you listening to right now: john mayer.. stevie nicks and maren morris

whats getting on your nerves right now: right now? like ‘right now’ right now? well… its this never ending questionnaire! what else could it be? Lol

about me…

nicknames: as a kid, i was a huge fan of shah rukh khan.. his most popular character ‘Raj’ addresses/teases his lady love 'Simran’ with nickname 'Senorita’.. and idk why that caught on with my elder cousins who since then address me as 'Senorita’.. and ever since i landed in florida.. the locals seem to think that i look spanish, so they too address me as 'Senorita’.. i know its not exactly a nick name but it’s a wild experience to have.. like- life coming full circle? or like- i was probably destined to live among spanish-speaking community and i just had no idea during my childhood? like- some unspoken prophecy coming true? idk man.. its 1am now and this is the calibre of thinking i have at such odd hours.. pardon me if i sound stupid..

relationship: content to remain single.. but who knows what shape will that status take under parental pressure these days..

zodiac sign: Pisces

pronouns: she/her

favourite TV shows: friends, the big bang theory, castle, the good wife and all the late night talk shows..

school: information technology engineering

hair colour: Brown

long or short hair: medium

do I have a crush on someone: nope

what do you like about yourself: truly speaking, i like the fact that i am financially independant as i always wanted to be

firsts…

first surgery ever: removal of blood-clot from bottom lip at age of 16 i think..

first piercing: dont remember.. i am indian.. most indian babies get their ears pierced before they turn 1..

first sport you joined: CRICKET!

first vacation: north-india (delhi-agra-shimla-kulu-manali) with family, at age of 14 :)

first pair of trainers/sneakers: bata.. white..

right now…

eating: its 1:31am.. not eating

drinking: its 1:31am.. not drinking

listening to: its 1:32am.. not listening

waiting for: this questionaire to end

wanting kids: yes

career: software engineer

romantic stuff…

lips or eyes: eyes

hugs or kisses: hugs

shorter or taller: taller

older or younger: younger with a mature head?

romantic or spontaneous: spontaneous

sensitive or loud: sensitive

hookup or relationship: relationship

troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker

have you ever…

kissed a stranger: no

drank hard liquor: yes

lost glasses or contacts: Don’t need them.. but i lost my sunglasses inside a lifesize model of spaceship Atlantis at NASA Kennedy.. does that count?

been arrested: nope

turned someone down: yes

cried when someone died: yes

fallen for a friend: yes :(

do you believe…

in yourself: yes

miracles: no

love at first sight: yes

santa claus: no

kiss on the first date: that’s an immediate and definite NO !

25 more folks to tag… hmmm…. @iamcupcakebcz @missy14us @12trees @narrents @narrytheyfit @tiine63 @galeaya067 @levyrroni-world @myaimlessuniverse @wantniallie @justnarryaf @narrys-town @1dfourinfinity @golfdadhoran @narry-bomb @pizziallhut @liamlovelyx @superrichlads @niallpeach @niallandharrymakemestrong @1989rosesxx @doitlikenialler @sweetgamber @kirrylovesnarry @arguendo

#its 2 am now #for the ones tagged.. remember its not an obligation #cheers #about me #:)