#had to read a script yesterday that reminded me of them and its been eating at my mind

[cowbeaus]

the ransom and holster effect: everything you see that comes in pairs automatically reminds you of two fictional characters

#had to read a script yesterday that reminded me of them and its been eating at my mind #i love them though dont worry ! #check please #kieran says things

[straighttohellbuddy]

how the light gets in {Corpse Husband}

2. you’ve gone way too fast for way too long.

Summary: Supernatural Creatures AU. Them/Them Reader. After the success of your first stream, you find yourself wanting to get back to your YouTube roots, and what better way to do that than with a cover by one of the bands who holds a special place in your heart? And maybe you’re using it to distract yourself from thinking about how coming back to YouTube means coming back to the things - the people - you’d left behind. 

Maybe it’s selfish, but Corpse kind of wishes you hadn’t come back to YouTube; honestly, if anyone else had taken the world by storm, he wouldn’t complain half as much, except it’s you and he’s still mostly convinced that you might be an angel like him... Except better. Because of course you would be a better angel, you’re talented and driven and personable and essentially everything an angel should be, and - bar the talented bit, Corpse at least knows some of his worth - you’re everything he’s pretty sure he’s not. Except it seems like everyone loves you, and he doesn’t exactly have a good enough reason to be bothered by you the way he is, so he has to act like he isn’t. Which is a lot easier said than done, when you barely say a word to him and it feels like all of his suspicions are confirmed. 

A/N: 8471 words. Reader in the fic is stated to be 24. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SUPERNATURAL THE TV SERIES. me, trying to walk the line between 3rd person omniscient narrator and trying to make the narration feel like its somewhat coming from the POV character?? it’s more likely than you think! as always, i really appreciate feedback.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

Taglist: @nanasort @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @theboywhocriedlupin @taikalinna @jaychirps @bingusmode @divine-artemis @realmejay @lovemelikepercy @balla-deer @miniritzcrackers @loraleiix @ppopty @easygoingtheatre @insanedeathwish @siriuslystupid @losvertown @janiathecat @wineandionysus @moonlightsimp @allylyew @chokingonflxwers @sicnesa @xxniksxx @mishisamess @preciousskye @yashinosakura @meleekabenjamin @whatamievendoinghere01 @lxurxn-02 @liljennyx3 @the-fusionist @benjaminka @lilysdaydreams @a-lonely-bic @letsloveimagines @melmachh @tama-chan-suneater @shio-yuki @fairywriter-oracle @easygoingtheatre @pixelbxtch @dreammoutlouddd @abysshaven @mediocrearistophanes @tsukishimawh0re @inkbyajm @jordiee95 @honkcorpse @kaiihaan @takenbyheartstrings @mrtony-stank1 @dangeroustreebread @xibrokensunriseix @corpseglider @artsyally @ellsbells2143 @machine-gun-casie @marvelsmurphy @bigmac-papi @danielle143 @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @starstruckllamapuppy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @fee-btheweeb @parkerpeanuts @fanfictionenthusiast @evans-dejong @pancakebinnie @minbunbun @sabrinarahaman @thefangirl05 @jades-bullshit @fo-love @roses-and-grasses @thirstyfangirl @lovelysmp @325575 @wrongcielo @lukathecrime @lunariasilver @delicrieux @rebloogggs @kookiesandtae7 @mizxkii @effielumiere @happyyyandcrazyyy @teenageguitarist @prettylittlealiengirl @aroyalharknessblr @kylie-writes-stuff @annshit @haunteddeputymugpersona 

taglist is always open! message me if you’d like to be added xx

----

The day after your song drops, it’s on Spotify’s Top 50 Viral playlist, it’s charting on iTunes, it’s splattered across the internet, according to your manager, who sees fit to text you, congratulating you on what she assumed to be a masterful marketing tactic; releasing the song and immediately streaming alongside huge YouTube creators who have a wide and diverse fanbase, all plugging your music. She thinks it was a carefully calculated move, which makes you feel all kinds of scummy, like you were using your new friends. Thankfully, when you fire a somewhat defensive response about how you had no ulterior motive, that all you wanted to do was have fun and make friends, your tone apparently reads loud and clear, as you receive an apology a few moments later. Backtracking, she simply mentions that, even unintentionally, you had great timing, and she’s glad you had a good time, which is better, and you try not to dwell on your initial assumption. Years of your life had been spent worrying that the people you were close to just thought you were using them for views or fame; her words did little to quell that worry, so instead you tried to distract yourself, or at the very least, focus on the good that yesterday had brought about.

The best, of course, was Sykkuno, the hellhound who’d endeared himself to you almost immediately. Something about him makes you feel safe, though perhaps it’s that you’re unused to someone feeling so familiar; you like to think you’re a good judge of character, so for now, you’re trusting in your instincts, trusting in Sykkuno. The next best thing was a tie, between friends and freedom. Yesterday you’d been doing what you wanted to do, not what you thought you should be doing, not what was on brand, or carefully scripted; you were messy, stumbled over your words, and you laughed and deceived your friends as was the aim of the game, it was so freeing to be unfiltered. People kept saying it was nice to see you smile, to hear you laugh again. Huh. Part of you really doesn’t like that you know exactly what they mean, and more importantly, why people are saying that at all. But things are different now, are freer now; your brand was built on you, it’s nice to get back to that.

By mid-morning, you’d been sprawled out on your sofa for almost an hour, glad to be alone, to not have to worry about being seen, as you’ve phased your tail back into reality, and have it holding up your phone as you scroll through Twitter with one hand and fidget idly with the other. More and more you’re seeing supportive comments from people gushing about the few bars you’d sung of 5 Seconds of Summer’s Youngblood on stream yesterday. First your chat had loved it, now it seems the general consensus was that people would love for you to cover more than a few bars. While you tried not to listen too much to what other people wanted, you couldn’t help but admit that it was something you definitely wanted too.    

When you text your manager, new idea already taking hold of your focus, your earlier unsavoury text conversation seemingly forgotten, your manager reminds you that you should be working on your new album, putting together the tracklist for your EP. Ugh. 

It’s not that you didn’t have ideas, quite the opposite; you’re exploding with ideas, brimming, overflowing with them, for songs you wants to write and feelings you can’t express any other way, but the songs and collaborations you’ve already completed, their mp4 files sitting neatly on your desktop, you wanted to save them for the full album, like it was some sort of penance for getting to collaborate, getting to become friends with people you looked up to, people who inspired you. To you, their contribution was worthy of your full album. 

Well, that was part of the reason, the other part was that the songs you had designated for the album had a different vibe to your EP songs; albumtouralbumtour and imposter syndrome had both been written in lockdown, about very specific concerns you were having at the time. The EP was shaping up to capture a very specific moment in time, while the album was so much more than that. You couldn’t put read at five am on the EP, the collaboration you’d done with Troye, a lyrical-lament with a dissonant, upbeat melody, an apology for when you’re the one who cuts off contact with someone you’re close to and don’t know how to say why, and don’t know how to come back; yes, the fact that you and Ethan are talking again means that the song is technically relevant to this period of time, but it’s three years of regret and indirect apology compressed into in three minutes. It’s going on the album. 

But being stuck at home all day for months had made you all nostalgic for your roots, for when you’d started uploading all the way back in 2012, at 16, with no idea what a few videos would lead to. You missed covering songs you loved, the songs other people had written and that you had still connected with, the songs that made you want to write your own. Yes, you loved your own content, obviously, but from idea to video publishing, you knew a low-effort cover would take you maximum a day and a half if you were particularly inspired, which you clearly were. By now, you’d been doing this for so long that you knew the legality of it all like the back of your hand, and were in a stable enough place to be more than happy to pay royalties to the band you’d co-headlined alongside for your first international tour.

“What if I call the boys and ask them?” You decided to just call your manager directly, tail curled securely around your phone where you’d put her on speaker, pottering around your kitchen trying to find something to eat. Alison, on the other end of the line, sighed deeply, having been fielding these sorts of calls from you about once a fortnight since lockdown had started.

“Have you finished moment before impact yet?” She countered, and you wrinkle your nose; its as if she can hear the expression through the phone with the way she continues on, not giving you a moment to cut in, “listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but you need to make a decision about your EP tracklist soon, okay? The label’s breathing down my neck, you know you have more than enough songs for it.”

“Alison, the vibes -”

“The vibes, Y/N, I know,” she sighed deeply, but you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“I promise I’m working on my own stuff; I think moment before impact is gonna be a collab, but I’m not sure who with yet, but if it makes you happy, once I record this 5SOS thing, I’ll work on a demo of moment for the EP,” you concede, and you hear her hum in approval, “I promise I have all the songs in my head, I just gotta make sense of which ones are the right ones for now, you know?”

“I really don’t,” you could hear her actually smiling now, so you let yourself relax for a moment, hands braced on your kitchen counter as you looked to your phone, “but I suppose that’s why you’re the musical one and I’m the manager.”

“My favourite manager,” you told her sweetly, and her answering laugh is more of a snort. 

"Call the band, maybe they can work something out for you regarding royalties, if you plan to monetise it," she suggested, and you hummed, "keep me updated, okay? Make sure you're still working on your own stuff though."

"Alison you're a national treasure," you tell her feelingly; you don't even have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

But you take her advice, sending 'what if I covered Youngblood and posted it to YT? I'll pay you royalties' to the mostly dormant WhatsApp group you have with 5 Seconds of Summer, despite it being about six in the morning in Australia. Callum sends back a thumbs up almost immediately. Its all the confirmation you need to get started.

As you’re hunting through your house for a pick, turning over cushions, looking through junk drawers, you hear your phone go off, and you take a moment to check, surprised by what you see. A message from Sean. Huh.

[I see you’ve finally decided to join us in the gaming community, took you long enough 😊 If you ever wanna play something, just gimme a yell, you know Id be glad to have ya on my team.]

Considering the fact that it had been three years since you and Sean had properly been in contact, you find the message both surprising, and strangely heartwarming. There were a few people you’d purposefully fallen out of contact with, plagued by your own fears and self doubts. The people who you’d seen in person almost daily were the ones who you’d felt the absence of the most, but Sean, just by his close association with those people, along with a few other international friends, had been regretfully left behind also. Here and now, you can feel just how much you’ve missed him, how guilty you feel for giving in to your own anxieties and the negativity spewed by others. 

But you know you can’t dwell on the past, on your mistakes, all you can do is be grateful for the opportunity to reconnect, and take it.

[ID: A tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter and @goldeny/n, followed by a single tweet by @ZeRoyalViking, and a tweet and reply conversation between @yourtwitter, and @5SOS.

@yourtwitter: someone yell at me for doing another cover instead of my original stuff. quarantine got me feeling 17 again. might do the cinnamon challenge next. or finally do that Roast Yourself trend 4 years too late. | @golden_y/n: BRUH YOU BEST NOT BE PULLING OUR LEGS | @golden_y/n: I would empty my bank account to see you roast yourself. | @yourtwitter: Please Don't Do That YouTube Is Free | @golden_y/n: 😳💀💖

@ZeRoyalViking: stream today with some familiar and not so familiar faces!!

@yourtwitter posted an image of Griffin McElroy from the My Brother My Brother & Me TV show. Griffin is a Caucasian man wearing glasses and a blue checked shirt. He is visible from the chest up and is sitting behind a desk with one arm in front of him, with his thumb out, as if counting. The image’s subtitles have been edited, now reading ‘My friends are very much into the following: Bullying me on TikTok.’ | @yourtwitter: @luke5SOS is just mad im gonna sing his song better than him. he doesn’t use twitter anymore so i have the upper hand here. | @5SOS replies with a gif of Jason Momoa, who is incredibly muscular, with dark hair down to his shoulders, a black tank top, and sunglasses on, holding a microphone, standing in a confrontational manner, captioned ‘No, no, no. By all means, speak your mind. You got a problem with my boy?’ | @yourtwitter: HE WENT LIVE UNPROMPTED TO TELL PEOPLE ABOUT HOW I WROTE NOTIMETOSLEEP IN THREE DAYS WITH NO ACTUAL SLEEP, OPENED FOR THEM IN ARIZONA, AND IMMEDIATELY PASSED OUT FOR 16 HOURS AFTER WALKING OFF STAGE | @5SOS: we just miss you tho... and it is kind of funny. | @yourtwitter: the minute im allowed to safely leave lockdown im coming to australia to german supplex the lot of you. ❤️

End ID.]

Corpse’s whole ‘not thinking about you’ plan goes down a lot smoother when you’re not actively stealing his friends- what kind of Angel goes around stealing another person - another Angel’s, no less - friends?! Except, right, he doesn't actually have proof that you're an angel, just a hunch he’s apparently committed to... and, okay, you don't know you're stealing them... Sykkuno and Rae are allowed to have more than one friend. Obviously.

"Honestly, I'm still kind of riding the high from yesterday's stream," Sykkuno’s all kinds of elated in the voice chat, and Rae's quick to chime in, matching his tone, his energy, as she agrees.

"I cannot believe Y/N played with us! I’m sorry you missed it, Corpse, I think you'd love them," Rae is adamant, to which Corpse, from behind the safety of his monitor, makes a face.

"What makes you say that?” Even as he says it, as he tries to keep the negativity from his voice, his nose wrinkles, the expression shifting his eyepatch just a little.

“I don’t know, just something about...” Rae’s voice turns thoughtful as she considers, though Sykkuno takes the chance to pipe up, voice brimming with his trademark sincerity.

“You guys have weirdly similar vibes, like kind of a similar energy?” He tries to explain before a faintly embarrassed laugh escaping him, even with Rae humming in agreement, “not the exact same, obviously, but like, I don’t know, I think you’d really like them.” The problem with having Sykkuno for a friend is that he’s almost always trying to be genuinely kind or helpful. The problem is that Corpse can tell he believes what he’s saying. 

An angelic ability that often goes overlooked, even by angels themselves, is the innate ability to tell whether or not someone’s lying. It’s like a faint buzzing, low grade tinnitus, at the sound of a lie, something that can actually be pretty effectively ignored and forgotten, but right now, the lack of buzzing with Sykkuno’s words is frankly irritating. Not that Corpse can say that, he has no real reason to be jealous of your fast forming friendships with his friends, well, not any reason he can admit to on stream.

"You know what,” Sean muses, finally joining the conversation, “It’s been a while since I properly spoke to them, but I totally get what you mean,” fucking great; of course he agrees, “did anyone invite them to play; would love to have them here if they’re up for it.” 

"I think they're working on a thing today, but I can message and ask?" It’s Sykkuno who speaks up, the barest hesitation in his voice, and to that Rae makes a proud little noise in the back of her throat. 

"You met yesterday on the stream that I organised, and suddenly you're all best buddies? Gonna be honest, I’m a little jealous,” she admits, to which Sykkuno huffs a soft laugh, uncertain of what to say, though Rae’s tone is fond and she continues on, “seriously though, good for you, dude, finally getting the recognition you deserve -"

And on the one hand, yes, Corpse would agree that Sykkuno deserved infinitely more recognition and praise than he currently received, but on the other, the speed at which you two had aparently become close - a day! It had been a day! - sets Corpse’s teeth on edge. It was all he could do to keep quiet as the others chimed in, all their sentiments mirroring Rae’s.

All this frustration and resentment was almost definitely unhealthy, he was more than aware, but something about you had fixed in his mind; if it had been anyone else, anyone less talented or personable or productive, he could have probably handled it, but you...

All he gets is two games worth of peace before Sykkuno announces that he’s gotten a reply. Aparently you’re in the middle of recording a cover. Something about knowing that fills Corpse with discomfort, with envy, like he should be working on his music instead of being here. 

"But they say they're gonna take a break in an hour or say, so they might join us for a few games," Sykkuno’s tone betrayed his bright smile, and suddenly the voice chat was flooded with excitement from almost all in attendance. 

"Wait, really? Just like that, we'll be playing with Y/N?" Leslie sounds disbelievingly hopeful, but thankfully it’s only a few moments until the next game beings. While none of the others had picked up on Corpse’s silence, his chat seemed confused. Purposefully ignoring their questions and comments on the matter, he instead gives a few comments on the game, trying to come off lighter than he was feeling. 

He’s not quite sure what he’s going to do if you join the stream, he’d never actually considered that he might one day talk to you, have to confront the person whose very existence got under his skin, who might very well be the only other person like him on this side of the world. Unsurprisingly, his head’s not in the game.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?” Rae feels the need to ask when whatever response he’d given in a meeting had just come out as an incoherent mumble. Of course he straight up laughs at her question, which is answer enough, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “you’re impossible.”

“Have you drunk any water today -?”

“Sykkuno you’re dead,” Sean interrupts Sykkuno, who had broken one of the main rules of the game simply to question Corpse about his health; he’s far too caring for his own good, but moments like this make for good entertainment, “dead people can’t talk,” Corpse is grateful for all of five seconds before Sean turns on him, reiterating Sykkuno’s question like a traitor; “Corpse, have you drunk water today?” In lieu of a proper response, Corpse groans, playing at being annoyed.

“I say we vote him out because if he is the imposter, we win, and if he isn’t, he has time to go drink a glass of water,” Rae proposes matter-of-factly, which just leaves Corpse spluttering with disbelief.

“That’s fucking stupid; I’m not the imposter, you’re basically throwing the game -” but the votes are already popping up, and unfortunately, for the first time all stream, everyone seems to be in agreement.

“Drink water, Corpse,” Rae, clearly the leader of this mutiny, orders, as Corpse watches his character get flung into lava, and very begrudgingly heeds her words. He takes his sweet time drinking a full glass of water and refilling it to take back with him, intermittently glaring from his kitchen at his computer, despite the game still going on; he’s got several tasks left, if they don’t catch the imposters, they’re doomed, and honestly he doesn’t care. Once the game ends, with the crewmates’ loss, as he’d suspected, they all find themselves back in the lobby. Maybe they’re waiting for him. They can wait longer.

As he settles himself back into his office chair, he pulls on his headphones in time to hear -

“- earlier than I thought because of a whole thing on TikTok and then Twitter, and then my manager texted me telling me-” It’s like he’s turned twenty again at the sound of your voice; you, bright, earnest, rambling to probably Sykkuno or Sean or Rae, probably not even aware of him, but he’s never been more aware of you. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but your second EP, hyperfocus, had been in heavy rotation on his Spotify since he’d discovered it, since he���d listened to the crack in your voice, the exhaustion with which you spoke on i’m going through some stuff when Lofi had just been taking off as a genre. He’s... conflicted, going through an internal crisis while you keep talking, blissfully unaware, “- anyways, I think she’s just worried that I’ll end up threatening to German Supplex Harry Styles, or the late, great, Prince, and I’ll end up cancelled.”

“Y/N,” your name sounds equal parts amused and concerned as Sykkuno says it, with the air of someone who’s been privy to you and your antics far longer than just one day. The response you give is just as bright and cheery as your rambling had been, assuring him that you wouldn’t threaten to German Supplex Prince.

“You sure about that?” Sean was obviously grinning, judging by his fond tone, “sounds like something you’d try -”

“I’ve changed, Jack- Sean- fuck,” your muttered swear undercuts your attempt at earnestness after you correct yourself, clearly not used to calling him by his actual name. To that, Sean gives a fond chuckle, before going right back to ribbing you.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still video evidence of you trying to square up with Mark in person,” Sean points out, to which you grow huffy and defensive, playing up your frustration. 

“Well, that was for a completely reasonable reason!”

“Which was?”

“I thought it would be funny,” tone flipping completely, the words come out so sincere and bright it’s almost tooth rotting; if he didn’t know any better, Corpse would probably find himself being endeared by it, “and it was! Plus,” though here you give pause, and something about the tone of the conversation shifts as you chew on the words you’d almost said without thinking, “it was funny,” you said, softer this time. Sean, sensing the shift, does his best to pick the mood back up, reminding you that both you and Mark lost the competition you’d been taking part in anyways, and asking if you really had changed.

Before you had time to answer, however, Rae spots Corpse’s avatar moving ever so slightly, and immediately jumps on him.

“Corpse! Did you drink water?” She asks. He unmutes so they can all hear his deep, beleaguered sigh. “I can and will bully you into taking care of yourself,” her heart’s in the right place, and it is mostly a bit, so he can’t be too put out by the fact that she cares.

“I can’t believe you all voted me out because of it,” he chooses to respond instead, and Rae’s cackle echoes through the voice call.

“She also was the imposter, so...” Ze trailed off, a little sheepishly, to which Corpse rolled his eyes, not that anyone can see. Of course she was. But he’s not even given a moments before -

“You must be Corpse!” The moment the words leave your lips, every single goddamn nerve in Corpse’s body feels like it’s alight; everything overwhelming, unfamiliar,. white-hot, he’s suddenly desperately trying to keep his various abilities in check, since he really doesn’t want to short out his whole system, end the stream early, and probably cause his building to go into a blackout, just because of whatever this is. The whole world has changed with four words; better and worse and more more than anything. It’s... it’s a confirmation of some kind, and he tries to hold onto that vindictive feeling in his chest. You are familiar, you are something he recognises like no-one else he’s ever met before; you are like him. Is it better or worse now he knows it’s the truth?

“Must I be?” He manages to respond, keeping his voice as level as he’s able, shooting for vaguely amused and trying not to let any of the past few seconds sudden overwhelming panic and triumph bleed into his voice. But the moment you hear him, there’s a sharp gasp; that same something, understanding, recognition he’d felt, you feel it too.

“Y/N, you okay?” Ze had asked, and you made a vaguely muffled noise of unconvincing confirmation. Out of sheer, idle curiosity, Corpse opened a new tab and searched up your YouTube channel where you were streaming.

“Maybe we should have warned ya’,” Sean offers with a light laugh, before lowering his voice, immitating and announcer as best as he could, “warning! Corpse is about to speak!” Which at the very least got Corpse to laugh, though he refused to give anything away as your stream loaded, and the banter continued in his ears.

“Har har,” you muttered sarcastically into the voice chat, right as the stream finished loading, and - you. Well dressed, face in your hands, heels of your palms pressed against your closed eyes; honestly, he doesn’t exactly have any prominent initial thoughts about you, watching you scrunch your face up in your hands, dealing with the same thing he had to, though your face was live to thousands. Beside you, the text chat for your stream was going almost too fast to read, but he managed to follow a few threads of thought here and there.

[an eye thing! they’ve got an eye thing!] [someone @ y/n_creature_spec on twt!!] [who has an eye thing??] [lmao love that they were so shocked hearing corpse that it set off their eye thing] [hello!! vampire here!! we have eye things!!] [u cant be a vampire it’s the middle of the day] [THERE ARE COUNTRIES OTHER THAN AMERICA YOU KNOW] [i am willing to put MONEY on the idea of them being fae of some kind.] [^^yeah they just didnt want us to see their eyes sparkling like an anime character.] [that feels like smthn corpse could bring out in people]

And then you’re blinking back to reality, bringing him from his thoughts as for one terrifying moment, it’s as if his gaze locks with yours. Expression so bright and inviting, despite the way your eyes were watering just a little, you hold eye contact with your camera for a moment before looking at your screen, mumbling something about an eyelash in your eye; Corpse lets out a shaky breath. Chat seems unconvinced, but at least the other streams take you on your word. For a few more moments, he quietly watches you, watches the way your eyes roam your screen as you order your thoughts, and for all that he’s thought of you, he’s never properly looked at you. It’s taken him until now to acknowledge that there was definitely a reason for your success beyond just your talent; certainly you could have become successful from your music alone, but your career certainly wasn’t hindered by the fact that you’re actually quite- suddenly, Corpse is overcome by the sense that he’s intruding, exiting out of the window immediately, even going so far as to push back from his desk, fingers spread wide, braced against the edge, trying not to think too hard about... any of it. If he thought too hard about what it meant to have another angel in LA, he would drive himself mad.

“Well, Corpse, it’s good to meet ya, been told great things,” to him and him alone it’s so clear you’re trying so hard to play it cool, though Corpse couldn’t fault you for that, doing the exact same thing; again, when you speak to him, it’s like his whole being is hit with a rush of warmth; it’s less overwhelming this time, somehow scalding but bearable now.

“I see Sykkuno’s been spreading lies about me,” Corpse fires off instinctually, to which Sykkuno splutters protests at the implication, despite your bright laughter, and Sean’s shout to the contrary.

“Don’t be mean, Corpse, Sykkuno would never lie about you,” Sean is adamant, and Corpse can tell he’s being honest, just as the tell-tale ringing in his ears knows the next words from Sean’s mouth are utter lies; “me on the other hand? Y/N whatever you do, do not listen to Corpse’s music, it’s just the worst.” Before the implication, the reality of what he’s saying sinks in, for just a moment, Corpse feels a rush of affection for Sean, so clearly and earnestly plugging his music, right before your voice re-joins the chat and Corpse remembers exactly who Sean is plugging his music to.

“Fuck you, J- Sean, I do what I want,” while you played along, amused and light, Corpse himself was at a loss for words. You ask him - him specifically, he knows, he knows with absolute certainty you’re asking him - if he’s a musician, and everyone else chimes in before he can even think about finding his voice.

“Don’t search him on Spotify! Don’t do it!” Sean, on the verge of laughter, seems delighted by the turn this conversation has taken as the sound of aggressive typing fills the chat from your end. What the fuck. What the fuck?! No matter his thoughts and opinions about you and your possible supernatural origins, you were still Y/N, literal Grammy winner and Golden Child from the Golden Age of YouTube, playing along as Sean used the world’s worst reverse psychology on you to get you to listen to his music. Oh fuck, this is not how today was meant to go.

“I don’t wanna hold up the game, I’ll listen as I play,” you tell them, almost painfully polite, though Ze agrees to start the next game. If Corpse’s mind wasn’t in the game before, there’s no way in hell it was now.

Three minutes into the first round and he’s failing miserably at card swipe when he chances a look at his chat; people were spamming lyrics from Miss YOU! and Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life! which was sweet but nerve wracking, since he’s pretty sure it means you’ve already listened to one and moved on to the next. If you’re an angel, and you know he’s an angel, what in the hell would you think of his music? Honestly, even if you weren’t an angel, you’re still you, and his music was... well...

When the first meeting is called, and it’s discovered that you’ve been murdered, there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with it, even as he’s being accused of your murder. He’s got a solid alibi, so they end up voting out Sean, and the game continues. Despite the brief reprieve from your possible judgement, his heart still feels as though it’s skittering erratically around his ribcage. 

Rae comes along when he’s doing Simon Says, and shoots his little avatar. The moment he becomes a ghost, he lets out a long breath, giving himself a moment to relax, to collect his thoughts, catching back up with some questions with chat  he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding, and chances a look at his chat again.

“Of course I’m tense,” he finds himself musing quietly to his chat while the remaining players were arguing over the top of each other in a meeting, “pretty sure most of hyperfocus has been in my Spotify wrapped every year since it was released,” for a few moments, it doesn’t even occur to him what he’s said, or that he’s said it out loud, but when it hits him- oh, oh no, it feels like too much to admit, and he has no idea what to say next, how to backtrack, how to at least pretend like he doesn’t think about you or your music any more than any other person would. However much he may resent certain aspects of it, he still knows he has a reputation to uphold, and panic and denial have never been a part of his reputation.

So he keeps his mouth shut, bites down on the half-hearted excuses and explanations that keep springing to mind, keep pressing against his teeth. He does his tasks quietly, thanks the people donating, and pretend it never happened until the round ends, heart in his throat. He knows, the same way a human survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie knows, that he’s just putting off the inevitable, and that someone’s definitely already clipped it and is probably uploading it to Twitter or Tumblr faster than he could protest.

“Y/N I’m so sorry!” Sean’s the first one to talk when they’re back in the lobby, which leads to your laughter filling the voice chat, telling him it’s okay.

“I didn’t even care, honestly I was just vibing,” the smile in your voice is almost enough to distract from the strained edge to your words, something not quite right, but so faint Corpse isn’t sure if it was really there, and he’s not quite sure anyone else heard it either. Except -

“Y/N?” Sykkuno says your name like it means something that no-one but you and him can decipher, something concerned, almost a question, checking in without being too obvious. 

“Yeah?” There’s that strained tone, just a little more audible this time, before you process who’s talking, how he’d said your name, and - “yeah,” firmer, calmer, a reassurance. 

“Vibing?” And he says it like that was his question all along, like the two of you hadn’t had a full conversation in three words. When the others started asking about what you thought of the music, it’s clear none of them have picked up on the hint of strangeness that had been in your tone, and you deliberate before answering.

“Am I- is it- it’s weird if I quote it, isn’t it -?”

“Jacksepdicy how I whip that!” Sean practically yells into his microphone, cutting you off and somehow making the line sounding even more Irish than he himself did naturally, which startles a laugh from Corpse, “it’s my name in a song, I think about it daily,” he announces, voice oozing pride, and despite the situation and headspace he found himself in, Corpse feels his heart grow warm knowing that even a line like that had brought Sean joy.

“I thought,” you pause for a moment, presumably to double check which song you were about to reference, “I thought Miss YOU was a whole mood,” you admit, the faintest smile in your voice, and something tightens in Corpse’s chest at that.

“You not gonna quote it?” Rae teased.

“Too nervous to follow Sean,” you fired back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there one day, Y/N,” Sean laughs fondly, and you all joke around, playing up the bit, while Corpse’s mind is stuck on the fact that you never once addressed him when talking about his music. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it meant he didn’t have to deal with the sudden, fiery sensation your voice brought with it, so not bothered, persay, if anything he’s glad to know you liked it... But it’s weird that he knows so acutely -

“Hey,” and you don’t even say his name, but there’s that feeling again. Each time it grows less intense, like he’s been inoculated, and no instead of his nerves being ablaze, it’s as if he’s suddenly sitting beside a bonfire, each and every time you speak to him. The others voice their confusion at your sudden vaguness, but Corpse answers without even thinking, because of course he knows.

“Yeah?” 

A few moments pass, while the others carry on amongst themselves for the moment. The two of you sit in this one moment together, neither quite sure how to feel about it.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you point out, though there was only the barest him of the earlier strangeness in your voice, now overpowered by something that made it almost sound like you were pleased. At this, however, even more confusion arises when the others figure out that Corpse had ‘guessed’ correctly, that you’d been talking to him. But he can’t really hear them, or, well, he finds himself tuning them out, swallowing hard before he pushes to talk.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the moment?” He asked, trying to ignore the weirdness of it all, keeping his tone light.

“I’m just surprised; it’s your music after all.” 

“You like hearing my voice?” Despite the surprisingly cocky way with which he speaks, he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, wincing internally. Of all the people he could have said that to...  

“I never said that,” and though your own tone matched his, something teasing, something that could almost be misconstrued as flirty in the right circumstances, he’d heard the faint thread of discomfort, feeling it all too much himself. But your words, and thankfully your tone, was overshadowed by both Sykkuno and Sean jumping in to assure Corpse that they enjoyed hearing his voice.

“If you and Y/N ever collaborated, you know it’d break the internet, right?” Rae interjects, all kinds of smug and knowing, followed by a chorus of approving voices all broke out in unison as the rest of the lobby considered the possibility.

“Rae, you know our Twitter mentions are going to be going off for the next month now, don’t you?” You groaned.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Rae exclaimed, delighted, before her tone turns teasing and fond, “and besides, aren’t your mentions always going off?”

[ID: The first four posts on Y/N’s Tumblr dashboard.

blueheart-anon hearing y/n and sean interact again after like 3 years unlocked memories like im a fucking sleeper agent. having war flashbacks to 2017′s ‘y/n is septiplier’s kid’ phase. how do i lock the memories up again im going to die of embarrassment why were we like that [tagged: #y/n #y/n y/l/n #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #i WILL NOT add the ship tag i mentioned #blue talks] [7 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

fangloriousbastard  ↪️fangloriousbastard fangloriousbastard Rae: Y/N & Corpse Collab When? Y/N: 🔪 - fangloriousbastard Y/N IMMEDIATELY MURDERING RAE AND THEN CORPSE I- - fangloriousbastard Y/N MUTTERING THE JACKSEPDICY LYRIC WHILE MURDERING HIM WTF IS HAPPENING?? - fangloriousbastard SYKKUNO NO BBY IM SO WORRIED - fangloriousbastard Y/N IM BEGGING U TO STOP SAYING CORPSE LYRICS BEFORE U KILL UR FRIENDS - fangloriousbastard WAIT WHAT Y/N AND SYKKUNO BOTH VOTING FOR THEMSELVES INSTEAD OF EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard “ride or die guess im gonna die” y/N PLEASE U MET HIM YESTERDAY - fangloriousbastard y/n’s still listening to corpse’s music we love to see it - fangloriousbastard WAIT NO ZE KILLED SYKKUNO IN FRONT OF THEM AND THEY WON OMG SO MUCH IS HAPPENING DID THESE MOTHERFUCKERS QUOTE AN ACTUAL THE OFFICE MEME AT EACH OTHER - fangloriousbastard Y/N: YOU KILLED MY BOY Ze: you’ve known him A Day! Y/N: you don’t have all the facts Ze: which are? Y/N: I love him. Y/N: Not in a weird, shippy way tho, but like, come on, man, look at him! Sykkuno’s avatar: 🌱                          👁👄👁 Sykkuno irl: 🥰 - fangloriousbastard ahem anyways corpse & y/n collab when? - y/n 🔪❤️ - fangloriousbastard 👁👄👁 - fangloriousbastard aren’t you supposed to be streaming?? [tagged: #HEWWO??? #among us lb #why do i only remember they’re following me when i post outrageously stupid content #btw y/n if u kill sean again i’ll cry] [43 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

fyahproof-y/n  ↪️ selkiey/n selkiey/n y/n’s explicit ‘i love him but not in a weird shippy way’ is the LOUDEST fandom vague i’ve ever heard in my life [286 notes] [▶️🗩↪️❤️]

crpshsbnd  ↪️ 221b-theres-a-bee crpshsbnd hope corpse is feeling okay he’s been kinda quiet this stream - 221b-theres-a-bee if someone suggested i make music with a grammy award winning artist i might be kind of quiet too - crpshsbnd asjdskldfjkdsf u right, still, hope that’s the reason. [tagged: #how do i always forget they won a grammy #actually i know why i keep forgetting #because every time i remember they won a grammy i remember the video where they jousted corndogs with joe sugg #and the winner had to deepthroat theirs for the camera #and y/n won but felt like an asshole for making joe deepthroat his corndog alone #and they ended up almost throwing up because they went too far with it #so hot #so talented #so very stupid sometimes] [3 notes] [▶️🗩↪️🖤]

Twitter is kind of a hellscape, Corpse decides, scrolling through his notifications as the stream’s winding down, seeing about a thousand different people tagging both you and him, asking for a collab, or seeing fit to show you both every single time one of you had mentioned the other in stream. Or had simply interacted. He’s not quite sure how to feel about hearing you mutter ‘make it rain, leave her wet, like a snowflake’. Unsurprisingly, a considerable few people had thought to clip the interaction where he’d apparently instinctively known you were talking to him, which he thoroughly regrets. There’s enough speculation about him online already, he doesn’t need people cluing into the fact that he might not be entirely human as well.

So now, he’s sitting idle in the lobby of the game as everyone’s thanking each other, discussing when they might get together to stream again; he’s quiet, disconnected from it all even though he knows he’s still live, he can’t help but stare at his phone, frown at your Twitter profile. You’re not following each other. A lot of his friends follow you, are mutuals with you, but you and he are not following each other, and he’s not sure if he’d like to change that. But it would make sense, right? It’s what’s expected.

Your pinned tweet is the single you released yesterday, which he still hasn’t listened to. The cover is cute; you’re - fuck. He refreshes the page. In the few moments since he’d clicked on your profile and now, you’d tweeted, thanking everyone for joining the stream, while you’re still in his ear, alongside everyone else, distinctly not addressing him. Maybe he should DM you, be upfront, ask about what you are, if his suspicions are true.

He hits the back button and goes back to scrolling through his mentions. 

“Hey.” Your voice, soft and earnest despite that warmth that crackles through him; he’s half distracted, hand moving instinctively to push-to-talk, and -

“Yeah?” God fucking damn it. Not again. He’s really gotta stop answering on instinct just because he knows you’re talking to him. He hates that he knows.

“Good to meet you, Corpse,” and there was a strange sincerity in your voice, and he responds in kind, but his heart’s not in it. There’s too much on his mind, too conflicted in his heart to tell the truth; his own words makes his ears ring. He can’t even lie to himself.

So he says his goodbyes, waits for the lobby to clear out and chatters away to his stream about when he might be on next. Upon ending the stream, he immediately opens the latest email from his producer, his latest project glaring back at him from the screen. 

Yes, his various ailments have his body aching, but the interactions he’s had with you are giving him a headache when he thinks too hard about them, and he feels woefully unproductive. Never Satisfied stares back at him, so close to being finished, mocking him. Scowling harder, he listens to what he has so far, making tweaks and notes, glad for the distraction, glad that his producer had as chaotic of a sleep schedule as he did. This was the home stretch; one more all-nighter and it would finally be done.

He texts Heartful that he’s getting to work.

It’s four in the morning when he finally stops for a break, his good eye starting to itch from staring at a screen for so long. With a yawn, he leans forward, out of his chair, groaning as he straightens up to a mostly standing position. Hands braced against the edge of his desk, he lets out a resigned sigh and wills his wings into existence. The weight of them curled up tight against his back, as was customary for them to be when non-corporeal, has him leaning a little further forward. Another yawn and he lets them uncurl, lets them stretch out behind him, knocking over an empty microphone stand as they went. He’d get that later. A grateful groan escapes him, it’s been far too long since he’d even had a half-assed stretch like this, wings helping to stretch all the aching muscles in his back that were simply impossible to stretch otherwise, no matter how much he’d twist. Even so, his studio wasn’t big enough to properly stretch them, and he really didn’t feel like laying on his living room floor right now; he’s kind of concerned he’d just fall asleep there. Instead, he kicks his chair to the side and hits shuffle on one of his Spotify playlists, doing what he can for himself in the limited space, and finally going to forage through his cupboards for something resembling a meal. Maybe drink water, Rae’s damn voice in his head.

At least with his wings around he didn’t need to bother turning on any lights; he’s gotta find joy in the little things.

Today, or well, the past twenty-four hours, was a series of cruel jokes, he decides, all leading to the moment he curls up his wings and sits back down at his desk. The moment he puts his headphones back on, he’s greeted by your voice, and he almost jumps a foot in the air, concerned that you’d called him.

"- who I became, dreading when the music stops, what if I just fade away?” In the split second he’s realised that it was just a song, just your voice, crooning, gentle and sad against a soft beat and the sound of rain, as i’m going through some stuff playing in his ears, it’s too late. Already his aura had gone off, and his computer cuts out, as his monitor cuts to darkness, so suddenly all he can see is his own, exhausted reflection in the monitor, backlit by his own wings... Not exactly flattering. 

Thankfully, it was only his computer that was affected, as he can still hear his refrigerator humming in the other room, so he wedges himself beneath his desk to reset the breaker for the power board that his whole system was connected to, grumbling to himself the whole time. 

If he was being honest, however, he was glad he didn’t have to hear more than a few seconds of your song. For a long time it had been one of his favourites, though at this point he’d rather die than admit that. Yes, it’s a good song, but it’s the last thing he needs to hear right now. If he listened to you voice half the fears he still tried to ignore, well right now it may kill him, and he was so close to being finished with Never Satisfied. So close.

Instead, he gives himself the moment in which his system is rebooting to scroll through Twitter and Instagram on his phone, checking his mentions for good fanart to appreciate, only to stumble across one of your stan accounts tagging both you and him in a clip that he hadn’t seen earlier. He’s not sure what possesses him to click it.

“Don’t follow me baby, swear I’m going to hell,” Corpse’s own words leave your lips as you’re focused on the game, on being imposter, leading Sykkuno into electrical to fix lights, and something about it sounds wrong and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’d heard other lines of his leave your mouth, clips from the stream he’d been tagged in, and it always manages to surprise him. When you sing his songs, even just a little bit, something in the back of his mind, something that had appreciated you as an artist all this time, it’s grateful, it’s excited, it’s overwhelmed. He wouldn’t deny that part of himself, he couldn’t, it didn’t feel right, but upon hearing this line, that grateful part was overshadowed by a visceral bitterness.

The line had been a moment of self deprecation, the only Angel he knew of who, granted it was by some of his own choices, was almost certainly going to Hell, if you believe in that sort of thing of course. But you? Every single part of you seemed to be the exact antithesis to him; you’re what an Angel should be, and him? Well, the line said it all really. It’s just... it feels like you’re mocking him at every turn now that he knows, or well, strongly suspects. With evidence. Which you’re probably not; if you’re an Angel, you wouldn’t go out of your way to mock another angel, so now he’s all in his head, frustrated at himself for being frustrated at you for just... liking his song? 

He really should message you about earlier, clear things up, get out of his own mind and stop jumping to conclusions. Finding another angel was big, no matter his personal reservations, he should try and take this opportunity, right? Except that you hadn’t reached out to him either.

Damn it; he knows he needs to stop thinking about you and focus on his own shit. He turns off his phone and gently tosses it to the floor, out of sight out of mind. 

Maybe he’ll feel better when he finishes his song, feel more productive, feel... complete for just a few moments. Maybe he’d stop comparing himself to you. Maybe.

[ID: Two tweets, one from @sp00kybihh, and one from @yourtwitter, followed by a retweet and reply conversation between @ashton5sos, @yourtwitter, and @y/nirwin.

@sp00kybihh: why did y/n’s smile every time corpse just knew they were talking to him without them having to say anythign make me feel things?? u no we love day 1 ride-or-die y/nkunno, but corpse & y/n just seem to get each other wtf 🥺🥺

@yourtwitter: australians are asleep post forbidden youngblood cover

(Thumbnail of Y/N sitting in front of the camera, dressed casually, visible from the chest up. There is a black microphone on a stand in front of them that they’re holding. Their mouth is open, as if halfway through singing, their eyes are closed, their background is a simple, white wall. Above Y/N, in black, VCR font, is the word ‘youngblood’. There is a large play button in blue and white in the middle of the thumbnail, to indicate that it is a link to a video.

Link: youngblood - 5 seconds of summer | y/n y/l/n cover i miss my boys. i miss people. thank you 5sos for being cool about me covering this <3</i> twitter: @yourtwitter 🔗youtube.com)

@ashton5sos retweeted the link and commented: Y/N you said it was gonna be low effort, this is killer! All it’s missing is some drums. Reminds me, I’m still sad we never got to record that thing we wrote in New York. | @yourtwitter: ASHTON IT IS 8AM I HAVE HAD NO SLEEP AND WAS NOT EXPECTING SUCH A QUICK RESPONSE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU | @yourtwitter: also lmfao i forgot about that ny thing that was good, from what i remember. do u still have that recording of us?? i may or may not have forgotten everything about that night apart from it being a blast #bringbacknewyork | @ashton5sos: Calum has it but also its 2am and he’s asleep, which you should also do. You know the boys are gonna love this... #bringbacknewyork | @y/nirwin: thank u both i have decided to pass away effective immediately #bringbacknewyork

End ID.]

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #sykkuno #jacksepticeye #valkyrae #how the light gets in #shut ur pretty mouth #cyltlanp

[angelisverba]

ambrosia

in which y/n hopes to find a loving new home, and faeking!h has a lot of love to give. 

word count: 12k-

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: descriptions of a sheep birth (for all the queasy readers, it’s brief)

author’s notes: this was made possible by @moonchildstyles wonder work “athens” (had it not been for that and her I would not have been inspired to write this, and it wouldn’t have come until months from now). i love u linds <333

Y/n woke to the sound of cooing doves startling near her ears,  and the warm feel of sunlight on her bare skin accompanied with a wet snout prodding at her elbow. 

Eyelashes fluttering open, the girl could see beams of sun streaming in through the arching window, motes littering the light that splayed over the stone floors and on the bed where she lay. The branches extending from the tree in the corner of the room had blossomed into a dainty pink flower that oozed a calming scent throughout, and the calming trickle of the stream surrounding the castle soothed her greatly, stroking her eardrums in a therapeutic caressed that stretched all the way down to her thighs, dissolving the sore knots that had formed there from her long walks in the forest. 

She could work with three days, especially if they all started this way. In a dreamy, etheral morning daze that was sure to carry on through the rest of the day.

Beside her was Angus, squealing excitedly now that she rose up from her position, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. 

“Good morning, Angus,” she cooed at the animal, giggling when he sniffed playfully at her chin. He plopped himself on his hind legs, and lifted his chin up to the sky so y/n could see the rolled up parchment that had been strapped on his neck with a thin, flowery vine. “What’s this?” She asked him, and he only tapped her with his hoof. “This is for me?”

The pig only squealed in response and, y/n gently stroked his warm back before untucking the paper from its place, and breaking the vine with her finger-nail so it wasn’t wrapped uncomfortably around his neck. It fell on the bed, and Angus happily bent to eat it. 

She unrolled the paper, and was stunned by the intricate cursive that was embedded into the rich material. Swooping lines of dark ink taking the shape of old-fashioned script. Y/n could imagine that whoever had written it had sat with a cork-topped pot of ink, and a long, sharp quill. 

It read, 

My lady, I’ll be awaiting your presence in the Courts. Agnus will lead the way.

A small giggle bubbled on her tongue and the king’s formal language. She hadn’t quite realized the different timelines their universes’ lived on. Not to mention, it was also a reminder of the ruling government. Harry was a king, and to have him waiting on her was a… very pleasurable feeling. 

Angus nibbled on her thigh again, impatiently urging her as they had somewhere to be. 

“Alright, I’m going! You don’t have to bite me.” Y/n patted the pig’s head once more, and hopped out of the bed, the soft material of her dress feeling like cool water against her skin. Now standing in the morning light, the shape of her calves could be seen through the material, the soft curves of her hips and swell of her breasts a hidden image; teasing in the most innocent way possible.

Agnus leads her out, his head turning to make sure that she was still following him. He led her down the same path the king took her when he showed her to her room, and even though she had seen it all already, the novelty of such a grand castle still hadn’t worn off. The brightness of the new day showered the stone walls with an enchanting gleam. Flowers had blossomed in the cracks, and tendrils of swirling leaves twisted through the arched windows. 

Harry hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night. 

He was overcome with a strange feeling of… deja vu. Even that didn’t begin to cover what he was experiencing. The moment that his eyes had landed on the female mortal that had so foolishly begged for entrance into the Faerie realm, the intense torment of loneliness he had endured for eons had just...sated, almost... relaxing with a sigh of relief. Something inside of him had… shifted. It was something that could only be compared to the righteousness that came with the correct alignment of stars; the balance of nature restored. 

One would think that he’d sleep like a baby because everything that had once felt so wrong was now feeling so right, but no. Not Harry. Harry was amazed and confused and… tentative. All of the many overwhelming emotions barreling in on his immortal body made it impossible to sleep. Instead, he did what he always did when he could not sleep.

He went to the library. 

From dusk till dawn Harry worked himself in the library, sifting through the eons of information that had accumulated to see if he could find anything that explained what in the worlds he was feeling. What had happened. Why a mortal girl had so easily, so pleasantly, been granted access to the fae realm. Why the wings of the newly hatched butterflies had fluttered and gained flight solely for the reason of covering her modesty. Why there was a sudden drop of… warmth* in the people that were known to be so cold. 

Alas, the king found nothing in the volumes he searched through that night. If* there was an answer, he wouldn’t find it that night. Not with the amount there was to search through. His search would simply have to continue after-

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” said y/n. 

His back was turned to her, as he was knelt over a bush of forget-me-nots. “Ah, didn’t I say you were to call me something else?” 

He was dressed in similar robes as the ones from yesterday, except that they were in a lilac shade, and the sleeves cascaded all the way down to his wrists, ending with a white trim. Although his look was more roman god-esque, y/n felt a very 70’s roller rink chic-ness to it. 

“Oh!” Her lips formed a surprised ‘o’, “right. Sorry, Harry.” He then stood up and turned to face her, a soft smile playing on his lips. A cinnamon curl swirled between his eyebrows. 

“That’s right. Good morning to you as well, my lady.” He folded a hand over his abdomen, and bent over in a bow. A king, bowing to her. 

Before she even had time to fluster over his unnecessary actions, he was barreled into by Angus, who had trotted off somewhere to eat his breakfast after leaving her in the tall arch that led to the gardens. 

“And hello to you as well, old friend,” Harry chuckled, and happily scratched behind the pig’s ears, crinkled forming at the corners of his eyes from all the smiling. Y/n noticed that he has a very, very* nice smile and his eyes looked a little less lonely when he allowed himself to grin. Angus snorted happily in his arms, nipping underneath his chin with the same tenderness that he’d used to wake y/n that morning. “Thank you so much for getting our guest to me this morning, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast?” Angus seemed through reply with excessive squirming and licks to his friend’s face. 

Y/n giggled at the interaction. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” She asked him, smiling warmly. 

“I would surely hope so. Raised him since he was a little piglet, and he’s been my loyal companion since.” He placed a tender kiss on the furry animal’s head. “Angus, my friend, I do believe that is enough love for this morning, do you agree? I have to show our guest around.” With a final scratch, Harry placed Angus on the floor, and clapped his hands together. “Shall we?”

“I would love to.”

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

They walked away from the castle and deeper into the gardens. Rows of thornless flowers on an endless field of soft grass that was a similar shade of the king’s irises. In the near distance, a river flowed and curved in a circle around the castle, separating the grounds where the people dwelled from Harry’s residence. Y/n found it odd for the king to live in isolation from his people, and she wondered if perhaps there might be conflict in the seemingly peaceful community. 

Side by side, they strolled in silence, Harry stopping every once in a while when his guest became intrigued by the constantly blooming flowers. He wanted her to take everything in at her own pace, and in that moment, silence seemed appropriate. Between the two of them, no interaction, no conversation, was present- because it was not needed. A comfortable, warm quiet atmosphere disrupted only by the soft swish of her dress and his robes against the blades of grass, the distant trickle of water, and the leisurely chirp of birds in the trees that littered the grounds. 

Eventually, they reached the halfway distance from the river and the castle grounds, where a single stone bench resided amongst a circle of sunflowers that were taller than Harry.  

Y/n gasped, “Those sunflowers are so tall!” She ran to the bench and climbed it so both her feet were planted on the smooth surface instead of her bum. 

Harry was still standing just a few steps behind the circle, hands behind his back as he watched her gawk with an amused smile on his taffy lips. He didn’t tell her that he grew those sunflowers, and tended them without the use of his fae powers, to create a private circle where he came to talk to the moon on the nights where he was most lonely. Sometimes, he would close off the open ends- then using his powers- like curtains, so none of the animals or fae people could watch him as silent tears of anguish slipped from his eyes like liquid silver. 

It was indeed, amusing, that she found joy in something that was used in acts of sadness. 

“I’ve never seen such tall sunflowers before,” she whispered, an awestruck look on her face. “They’re amazing.”

The sunflowers grew an inch at her praise, their heads tilting in her direction, like she was the sun. Their leaves stretched out to tickle her cheeks, and she giggled and squirmed at their actions. She didn’t question that it went against all laws of nature, how everything now had a touch of magic. She didn’t know that the flowers had a special connection with their birthgiver, their planter, and shared the same feelings he did. She didn’t know that they reacted because Harry saw her as his own personal source of light, as his happiness. 

Hells, the king himself didn’t know. But, the bond between the planter and his plants ran deep, and they knew the secrets that ran deep in his heart for they were nature, and Harry and y/n were natural.

“Thank you,” He mused, “I planted them myself. Though, they will grow a mighty ego at your praise.” 

Y/n giggled once more, and the leaves retreated back into the circle, and the sunflowers resumed their previous position. “I love it here,” she said to him. She was careful with her words, and her tone remained soft, dreamy. She didn’t know the king that well yet, and although he looked like the absolute gentleman, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and test him. 

Harry sensed this, sensed her slight fear, and walked into the circle of sunflowers. He took a seat next to where she stood, and patted the place besides the hem of her robes, signaling for her to sit with him. “Take a seat besides me, m’lady,” he murmured.

Y/n pouted like a child at his formal words, and placed a hand on his shoulder as she sat herself down. She didn’t notice the way he straightened. “If I can’t say Your Majesty, then you can’t call me that, either.” 

No one beyond his mother and the water wraiths he sometimes took to bed had taken the liberty to touch him the way she did. A casual gesture, very nonchalant, and it held no underlying motive to it. She didn’t want to get into bed with him with provoking touches, and she didn’t want to get into a king’s good graces with friendly gestures either. She simply wanted to get down and not topple over. 

“Do you not like the term?” He wants to caress the side of her face, brush that single strand of hair off of her shoulder so it lays on her back. Everything and anything tender, and it is strange. Instead, he settled for placing his hands in his lap. Awkwardly. He was all around rigid and tense. 

Y/n, however, does not see to notice this, and she bumps her shoulder against his playfully. “Do you not like when I call you Your Majesty?”

All too quickly, he said, “No, I do not.”

The light air around her goes stale, and she goes stiff like him, too. A crimson shade blooms on her neck. “Oh… well… I just… didn’t want you to call me something formal if I couldn’t call you something formal.” That’s what she gets for trying to play with a king. 

“Very well. Then I shall not repeat it.” He cleared his throat. “I digress. Love, the fae realm is not what it seems.”

She tilted her head, confused. Harry continued, “Every living being residing in these lands will attempt to trick you into turning your life over to them, and my-”

“Harry, are you trying to change my mind?”

“No. I am simply trying to warn you of the dangers you will have to face every day if you decide to live here.” He was scared for her, and anxious over… something that he couldn’t put a finger on yet. The thought of her in danger roused an emotion in him that he could not name. 

“I know the dangers. Frankly, I would rather face them than going back…” There is a moment of hesitation. She is unsure what to name where she came from. It certainly was not home. 

“Was the human realm really so terrible to you?” Harry asked. He himself had only been there once, during a time when a woman by the name of Stevie Nicks had accidentally summoned him during a wiccan ritual. Had it been any other creature, Harry imagined it might have been much worse. But the woman was young, beautiful and kind. She offered Harry hospitality and apologized profusely for her mistake. She had a lovely voice, too. 

“Yes. And I really do not want to go back. When I said that by going back I would die, I meant it. Whether it’s the world that gets to me or…”

“Or what?” The king swallowed. He had a feeling that he knew what she was getting at, and the thought of her doing such a thing...

“Or my own hand.” She stared down at the dewy blades of grass, kicking up her feet so her toes slid from underneath the draping white fabric of her dress. 

Silence and nature yelled. Harry was at a loss for words at her admission. Could she possibly be in so much pain? Would she bring that fate onto herself? He was heartbroken that y/n- who had been nothing but smiles and admiration- could do something so dark and evil to an energy he saw as bright and innocent. He couldn’t- wouldn’t let her do that, whether she went back to the human realm or not. 

“I promise you, you will not meet such an end, dearest y/n.” And if there was one thing the Fae honoured, it was a promise; a bargain. 

Y/n only smiled at him sadly, as if she was merely humoring his attempts at keeping her from herself. Though, she admired the way he was so sure of himself, how he was so quickly willing to help her. It was remarkable how she had found friends in such little time; Angus and Harry. 

“Now,” he clapped his hands together rather abruptly, startling her and causing her to jolt upright from her sad slump. “Let’s bring an end to this somber talk, yes? How about I start showing you around, rather than just sit here?” 

“I’d like that.” She said. “Where will you take me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up and extended his hand to her; an open palm, an invitation. The sunflowers around them shivered and grew another inch when she finally took his hand, and new stems shrouded from the dirt when the two shared a look. It was almost like… like an entire universe bloomed when their irises locked together, a supernova exploding in their chests in unity.

Neither of them reacted with more than a happy exhale. 

Harry led them out the other end of the sunflower ring, directly towards the river and all the while they still held hands. For Harry, it was the most intimate kind of touch he has ever experienced in the centuries that he’s been alive. He’s never had a serious platonic or non-platonic relationship with anyone other than… well, no one. The male and female beings he often took to bed to experience warmth never gave back the pleasure he offered; never stayed the night, and never caressed him back; never reciprocated the… love. It was highly embarrassing that no one respected him enough to even pretend to care or reflect his emotions in the most intimate setting, but that’s just the way it was (not to mention the fact that Harry started bedding others at the ripe age of one hundred because he wanted to learn how to be an adept lover, and the creatures that would be closely titles 'prostitutes’ in the human realm taught him well. For their own pleasure.)

For y/n, it was the most intimate kind of touch she had ever received from anyone of the opposite since ever. She’d been a neglected child, and the boys at school never felt she was adequate enough for their standards. Sure, there had been catcalls in the streets or in the bars she frequented, but those weren’t the kind of affections she wanted to give back. 

It was safe to say that the experience was electrifying for the both of them. Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a giddy school girl that had just received her first love note in her locker, and Harry wondered what kind of magic this human girl could possibly have that made tingles spread from where their palms connected all the way to his shoulder blade. Maybe, she was throwing a glamour over herself so that she appeared more beautiful than she looked, and was practicing wiccan love spells like that Nicks girl a few decades back… no. Who was he kidding. She was an innocent human girl. A beautiful human girl who had no idea of the effect she had on his ethereal existence. 

The closer they got to the river the taller the grass became and the easier it was to see the creatures that lived within it. A swan and her ducklings meandered down the stream, tadpoles and sparkling fish swam in the crystalline water. On the other side of the moving water, deer, rabbits, and squirrels scurried amongst the various shrubs and trees. It was like something out of a fairy tale book, but even then that comparison was weak. 

She slowed her steps as they reached the edge of the bank, just before her toes dipped into the water because… well, they weren’t prepared to go into the water. Harry seemed to have other plans; he only tugged her further, and did not pause like she did. 

His feet, however, did not dip into the water because the grass and dirt extended beneath their feet, lurching forward in an arch over the water to create a bridge for them to walk across. 

Astonished, she gasped, “Did you do that?” She held onto the large hand that was warm against hers and relied on it to guide her because she was too busy looking down at the bridge. 

“No, I didn’t. The ground did that itself,” he said. And it was true. The ground and nature loved him, and the amount of his magic he spent on it was minimal. 

Y/n was too surprised to say anything else. The bridge dispersed once they stepped back onto firm ground, and y/n let Harry lead their stroll on the other side. She realized that they were now in the non-isolated part of the Fae realm, which meant that any creature could pounce at them like how she experienced when she first arrived. That made her nervous. 

“The ground is- oh, hello!” 

She was about to make a comment regarding the earth’s self awareness, but something nipped at the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s. Looking down, she sees a lamb licking and sniffing at the tips of her fingers. It was shaky on its legs, and it’s nose was a tiny pink triangle on the snow white wool of its face. The lamb jumped back when she opened her palm towards the sky so it could continue smelling. 

“It is not very nice to bite our guests, lovie.” Still holding onto her hand, he crouched down to meet the lamb and reached out to caress it’s back. “Where is your mother, little one?” 

“It’s not scared of you,” y/n noted. In fact, the lamb leaned into his touch, and similar to the upturning of Angus’ mouth, this lamb’s own lips seemed to smile. 

He shaked his head, “no, I would think not since I aided her mother during her delivery,” he gently squeezed her hand in reassurance that her actions weren’t harmful. “However, they are naturally skittish creatures.” 

The lamb’s mother skips out from behind a brush, preening for her kid to come back from any danger she might be in, until she notices that the only danger is Harry, and really he isn’t any danger. So, she quiets and scurries to his side to receive tender caresses. 

“Well, hello,” he said to her. “It’s been a long time since I have last come to see you, isn’t it? I have brought someone to meet the rest of you today,” the sheep bleated, “Oh she is no harm, I assure you.”

They seemed to understand each other, almost like they were having a conversation. It was intriguing, “You understand her?”

“Yes. As Fae King I am given certain abilities upon crowning day. One of those being the understating of all languages, and this includes all living creatures.” 

“I see.” A shiver runs through her when his thumb strokes the back of her hand. Her toes curl in the glass. It was an intimate touch.

Harry licks his bottom lick. “Would you like to meet the rest of them?”

She’s assuming that he meant the rest of the lambs and sheeps, but the sun-lit glitter of green in his eyes hypnotized her. He was a drink of spring on the last winter night. “I’d love to.” 

The mother then licked at the ear of her kid, and they trotted off into the same bush. Y/n could see that there was an archway in the brush, and through this they disappeared, even though there was no tunnel following beyond the opening. Like a portal. 

“You’ll have to crawl through m’l- love,” his eyes bounce from hers to their hands, and almost as if it saddens him to do so, he lets go of her hand. “After you.” 

She bends down and follows after the creatures through the tunneled arch. It’s a tight fit, but her size made it manageable. Harry had it worse.

His height and broad shoulders made it uncomfortable for him to get through; he nearly had to get on his forearms so his forehead didn’t smear all over the greenery. The lilac of his robes made it hard for him to move, but if he dragged them- and that meant grass stains on his knees- he could get by just as fast. Y/n, too, was experiencing the same issue but she had paused momentarily to tie to fabric in a knot above her thighs, and Harry… well, Harry was trying really hard not to look because he knew it’d be disrespectful. 

The passage twisted and turned, and it was unclear where they were going because the turns were sharp. The only thing visible ahead was the curved wall of greenery beyond the quaint trotting of the sheep and her child. Eventually, they turned one last time and a series of ‘baa’s greeted them behind a circle of opening light. 

Behind her, Harry chuckled. The heat of his breath spanned across her ankles and the soles of her feet like a blanket. She had not realized he was that close to her. 

Y/n and Harry hadn’t been in the tunnel for more than two minutes, but it was amusing to see him arch his back in a stretch and pointless try and wipe away at the dirt and grass stain on the lilac fabric covering his knees. 

Instantly he was surrounded by a flurry of white clouds that bleated and licked at him. 

“Oh my. Hello- Ladies, please! Ow, Ruby we talked about tha- okay okay,” He was protesting, sure, but he was also laughing. It was the widest Y/n had seen him smile. He was… happy.

There was an sense of home and right to the picture he presented. A gleeful king surrounded by creatures that adored him (there was no doubt why the way they licked at him, and the Angus-like smiles on their faces as they looked up at him). Harry was not isolated here. 

Here. Wherever this here was. 

It was different from the Fae realm. The ground was softer than the dirt that occupied the space between her toes before, and it was a lighter shade of green. The color of Harry’s eyes when the sunlight cut through the iris from the side. It sloped up and down like the valleys of the Fae village, but there were no homes, and it centered around a heart shaped pool of crystalline water. The sky was the closest thing to strange- out all things, this is what y/n found strange- about it all. It was a cotton candy pink color; a solid shade that didn’t suggest a fading of the sun even though there was a white spherical object in the 5’oclock position. 

They- Harry, y/n, and the few lambs that had come to greet him- stood atop one of the crests around the heart-shaped pool. 

“Welcome to the Land of Nurture.” He said, breaking her out of her dream. He held the tiniest- tinier than the one that had nipped at her palm- of the lambs she had seen yet in his arms, and it was asleep. “This is where the woodland creatures come to birth and nurture their young. I spend quite a lot of time here, helping with the births.” 

At the sound of Harry’s voice and it not being directed towards them in praise, the lambs turn to see what- or who is the object of his attention. Many of them are curious to greet the human woman, but a few stick to his side, rubbing back into his loving hands. 

Through that magical bond, Harry caught onto an unusual request. The sheep, they wanted… they wanted y/n to oversee a birth. The ‘midwife’ of the lands spoke to him,

Harry, we’ve never had a woman here before. Let her femininity bless a birth? One will birth tonight, and her hands as much as yours are needed. 

“H-harry?” Harry looks up from the wise sheep at his feet to the anxious voice that calls him name. 

The lambs at y/n’s feet had gotten a hold of the cotton at the hem of her dress with their mouths, and were tugging her, leading her to a place that she didn’t know. The fact that they were leading her away to some unknown destination wasn’t what made her nervous, no. What made her nervous was the fact that they were leading her away and Harry wasn’t with her. She was unprotected. 

She had taken a few steps with the pull of animals. “Harry?”

He was at her side in seconds, the fluffy creatures parting like the sea to allow him to get closer to y/n. “They want to take you to the birthing grounds. There is a lamb that will go into labor soon, and the rest wish for you to be there during the birth. They say they would like your… blessing.”

The lambs, like the sunflowers, knew more than the Fae King did about his feelings. 

Her jaw drops in surprise and her eyebrows furrow. “Wha- me? But what can I do?”  At her hesitation, the lambs still and wait, looking up at their king for his jurisdiction.

The lamb in Harry’s arms nuzzles into the crook of his elbow, and he saddens at the fact that he cannot take y/n’s hand without waking him up (it was the son of one of the feistiest sheep). “Your presence is all they require.” They lock eyes, and immediately her unease is dissolved. There was Harry, and with Harry everything felt… right. He smiles softly at her, his features melting because he felt it, too. 

Remembering that he had a job to do, he looks back down at the awaiting creatures, and says, “Let’s be gentle, yeah, lovies? We’re not going anywhere,” he cooed. 

A chorus of bleats responded, and the babes let go of y/n’s cotton dress. They trot away, their tails flicking and heads turning back to make sure they’re being followed by Harry and his guest, who looks around, amazed at the change of scenery. Slowly, the rosy tone of the sky was melting into a serene shade of red, and the white orb of light was dimming, it’s positions growing smaller, like a light slowly going out. 

“Is that the sun?” She asked. 

Harry laughed, “No. It acts more like a heating lamp, and it fades away to replicate the night, so the animals huddle together for warmth until it… turns back on again. The color of the sky is connected towards menstruation and placenta; blood, a symbol of females and fertility.”

“That’s a beautiful meaning,” she mumbled. The ground on which the lambs walked on was so fresh and healthy-looking, a bright shade of green, that almost looked artificial. “So, is this another… realm?” 

He had to bite on his lip to keep from shouting endearments at her. She was smart, bright, curious, and Harry loved the way that she was right on track, a few steps behind, but she understood. “I suppose you could call it that. Although, it is more like a pocket in the Fae realm, a singular realm on itself entirely. It is a space where mother’s can come to have their children safely. This pocket belongs to the sheep. There are others for other animals, and even one for the Fae.”

“Do… Do other Fae come here?”

He shook his head. “No. No, they are not trusted.” Even he, at first try, was not trusted. It took him three days of sitting underneath a large oak tree, watching and letting the sheep sniff him, in order to let him pet them. Another two months for them to let him through. Why Harry wanted to become a part of their society, Harry himself could not tell you, but in reality, he yearned for their tenderness. He watched the way the animals loved each other, and deep down, he wanted their affection, too, because it wasn't something he was getting from his people. 

“And they trust you?” They were beginning to descend the hill, when two large rectangular rocks spaced about ten-feet away from each other sprouted from the ground without so much as a rumble. The animals thought nothing of this, and walked right through the space between the rocks, the image of the grassy land rippling as if a drop of water had just hit a pond’s surface. Another portal.

Y/n is only slightly fazed, and the halt in her step lasts a second. If Harry is going through it, then she would, too.

“Yes. It took me months to get them to trust me, but I would do it all over again for their company.” 

Their company? Harry was a king and he was looking for company among animals? 

“Prepare for warmth when we pass those stones,” he said, “The cave replicates the coziness of a womb to make it easier for a newborn to transition to the world.” At this point the lamb in his arms stirred and began to bleat in his arms, to which Harry shushed quietly and patted to silence. 

Y/n subtly crept closer to Harry, the head of the lamb that laid on the bend of his elbow brushed against her arm. Walking between the stone walls was similar to the time she walked through the portal; the similar consuming sensation, only it was accompanied by immense heat, almost suffocating. Not the type that made you sweat, but the kind that put you to sleep. A blanket of warmth, just like he had described. A dull, but concentrated, heat rolled over her skin like a fitted membrane. It was comforting and hazy.

Upon first walking in she was more focused on the feeling than her surroundings. She shut her eyes and took a waking breather before opening them and noticing that, again, just like Harry said, they were in a cave. The walls were a vein-y, papery texture- like when you shine a flashlight through a chicken’s egg and can see the embryo in a shadowy red silhouette. Lambs were sleeping in curled piles on top of each other so they looked like tufts of cotton clouds. There was a crackling fire in the middle of the large cavern that added to the source of heat, and the brightness of the papery walls suggested that there was a light source coming from the outside. 

A nervous ‘baa’ called out to Harry. In the far corner there was an isolated circle of space where a sheep lay on her side, her legs stiff in pain. The only ram present was next to her, nudging his horns against her womb (not in aggression, but in concern). He must’ve been her mate.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re almost there,” Harry cooed. He put down the lamb he held in his arms into the pile of nestled clouds. “Go, on. Keep pushing, you can do it.” He’s quick to kneel at the sheep’s side, and rub down her belly in encouraging strokes. The female gives another strangled cry when Harry looks up at a horrified y/n. “Come, my dear. It’s all right.” He said, summoning her with an outstretched hand. 

“I know I’m supposed to be helping, b-but it really looks like she’s in pain,” her voice is wobbly, and she’s fidgety, not knowing what to do with herself. It’s a relief when Harry offers physical touch, almost like he knew that it put out whatever fire of anxiety burned in her heart. She took his hand and knelt besides him. 

He nodded. “She is experiencing labor, and with that comes the pain.” The sheep’s lower half contracted, and her legs stiffened, a pained bleat escaping her. “Being a mother is not an easy task, from the start.” With a soothing hand, Harry patted her belly softly. A sheen of sweat settled on his forehead, his eyes darting, assessing the animal’s pain. 

“What can I do to help?” Her hand grew sweaty in Harry’s grip, and she was worried that he would grow repulsed and let go, but he only squeezed reassuringly. There was a moment of silence, even the mother sheep took a break from labor pains and took deep breaths. 

“Nothing, yet. Your presence itself is calming. If there are issues during the labor, then we step in. Otherwise, we are only to oversee and let nature take its course.” 

Y/n nodded, and that was it for speaking until the sheep began to cry out again. Harry didn’t say anything either. He was too busy trying to comfort, trying to soothe, not at all surprised or disconcerted by the scene playing before him. She wasn’t disgusted or repulsed, but definitely in shock, having never seen such life-altering events. 

“Will she be in pain much longer?” She squeaked out. The ram besides the sheep was growing restless, huffing through his nose and stomping his hoof. The mother’s legs curled forward again, and something- the lamb or the placenta- became visible. 

“Your baby is almost here, love, keep going- not much longer. She is a brave being. Her last birth did not even last a three hours, but this one seems to be going by quick. Her time between contract- oh, I know it hurts, c’mon, keep pushing,” Harry looked up at y/n and smiled, “Her time between contractions is short.”

Y/n bobbed her jumbled head. It was safe to say that the girl was very confused. Confused and shocked, and at a loss because she knew absolutely nothing about what to do in this situation. So, she sat still with her hand in Harry’s and stayed quiet, listening to Harry murmur to the mammal in labor.  For how long she sat there, who knew, but everything past her ankles lost feeling, and the back of her neck grew damp. Although Harry told her that the mother sheep would be fierce through this experience, she was slightly hopeless in the fact that she couldn't further help the animal. Her mate- the sheep’s- was too. 

It wasn’t until there was the sound of water spilling, and the thump of something hitting the floor accompanied by several rounds of excited bleats from not just the ram, but the surrounding animals as well. They were celebrating the birth of-

“Look at you, you did it!” Harry joined in on their celebration, and y/n- still very… still very out of it- looked up to catch the most breathtaking expression on his face. Awestruck, amazed, bewildered, did not even begin to cover what was playing out on his features. There were crinkles on the edges of his gleaming, green eyes, and a breathless smile on his lips. He was so absorbed in the act of new life, that he didn’t notice the extra attention he was receiving from the person sitting next to him. Her expression nearly mirrored his, captivated by the complete consumption of himself he allowed. It was not hard to tell that every bit of his soul was consumed by what’s playing out. 

Harry extended his unoccupied hand towards the yelping baby lamb, a golden drop of light appearing on his palm and it floated towards the damp head of the newborn, spreading all over it’s- the lamb hadn’t been sexed yet- body like a sheet. The mother stopped her licking to allow this to happen. 

“What- what is that?” y/n asked. She knew that whatever was happening was not a bad thing because the source was Harry himself, but she wanted to know. 

He looked at her then, the bewilderment and drop of his guard slowly disappearing. “It is my gift. A drop of good luck.” The glow of the fire licked his jaw a warm shade.

“A gift?” Again, she was at a loss. 

“Yes.” He said it like it was obvious, and she became slightly embarrassed. Should she have.. brought something to this? She didn’t have anything to give, but still. “As a token of my gratitude.”

Gratitude… gratitude…

Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she thought of the one way she could give.

Y/n got up from her knees and leaned across Harry’s bent thighs, reaching out to smooth over damp ears (much to Harry’s loss, this mean that she had to let go of his hand). The lamb arched into her touch, and she pressed forward to kiss the place where the golden drop made contact on it’s head. 

Harry watched this, amazed that his guest had taken such initiative, and flustered because in the process, the white cotton fabric of the cloth that he had so tenderly manifested around her body had crawled up the skin of her thighs. Resting just below the curve of her bum, on top of tempting skin that Harry wished- gods, he wished they could reach that mutual understanding, that mutual agreement that didn’t require hesitation on his part if he wanted to caress her. Or, even though they were present in front of only delicate and graceful creatures, adjust her clothing to protect her modesty. What was wrong with him?

“Aren’t you a cutie?” She cooed. After a few more pats, she leaned back with a content sigh, using Harry’s thigh to push herself upright. “I’ve given my gift as well.”

“He’ll never forget it.”

“He? He’s a he?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, he is his father’s first male descendant, and the future leader of the herd.” 

“Does he have a name?” 

“No. The sheep do not identify themselves in that sort of way. The call out to their souls.” He said. The ram walked in to harry, and bowed his head without aggression. A thank you. Harry did the same, and touched his forehead onto the ram’s horns. 

Y/n realized that it wasn’t a thank you. It was a...a moment of communication. What went on, what occurred, that was unknown to her. But the gesture between leader to leader was clear.

Harry’s knuckles supported his weight, and his biceps flexed as he leaned forward. Chocolate curls flopped over morrocan sand horns. It was a touching view. 

When the ram retreated, Harry looked on in silence at the budding family for a moment before he said, “I believe that now is the time we must go.” 

Y/n nodded. “Okay,” she said. Harry stood up, and again he offered her his hand. He did not let go when she stood up on her two feet and was steady, and neither did she. The two were content to hold the other’s hand as they sidestepped sleeping piles of sheep and lambs to eventually reach the egg-shell wall. The king knew the stop which to walk through, and led them right through.

Outside, the light had dimmed noticeably, and the sky was a deep, blood-red. 

“Is it nighttime?” asked y/n.

“For the lambs, yes. In my realm,” a smile quirked on his lips, “no.”

Y/n looked for the shrub tunnel at the top of the hill which they came through, but it was gone. The only thing visible in their ascend to the crest was the grass clearing in harsh contrast with the bloody sky. All of the sheep were gone into the cave, and an eerie silence misted across the grounds. Not even the lapping of the heart-shaped pool; the water was still. 

“Where’s the portal?” she said. 

Amused at her labeling for the entryway, Harry chuckled quietly. “It is not a portal, love. Merely a door that chooses to show itself only sometimes. Besides, I have other means of travel.” He pulled her close from an ounce of courage that had rooted in his ribcage. A strong arm around her waist; iron security. 

Y/n let out a surprised yelp, and stabilized herself with a hand on his bicep. To a human it would look like they were getting ready to dance. With their faces millimeters apart, she wanted nothing but for him to kiss her. Hold her like he was already doing, and never let her go. He was absolutely delicious. From how close she was to him- her front lining up with his side- she could see the pointed tips of his ears for the first time. The one characteristic that set him apart from being human. 

She was unable to help it. The urge to touch was too strong. In fact, there was a lot she wanted to touch so technically she was holding off on a lot. He was looking at her as she slid her hand up his bicep, leaving goosebumps behind, and delicately reached out a single finger towards the tip of his ear. 

Harry held his breath, a scalding heat trailing the path her skin left. In that moment, when every inch of his celestial self was hyper focused on her, he was convinced that there was more to the situation than he was aware of. It simply was not possible that she held no magic in her arsenal, and that she was not possessing him. 

“I’d never seen these before.” Her voice was a whisper, because she knew that it would crack under extreme stress if she tried to speak at a normal level. Being that close to him, touching him, and the way that he looked at her… it made her weak in the knees. 

“Do you like them?” Harry’s tone of voice imitated hers, his chin dipped. The tip of his nose ghosted over her forehead. His breath smelled like mint leaves. 

A shiver raked down y/n’s spine at the same pace that his breath smoked over her face. She nodded. She did like them. Very much. 

“Good.” He nodded his head, as if convincing himself that she did like them. His voice dropped again, and the only reason why she could hear what he was saying was because they were standing so close to one another. “Close your eyes for me, darling.”

 This was it. He’s going to kiss me, she thought to herself. Her eyes fluttered closed upon his instruction, and her head tipped back just the slightest bit. Taught, likes the strings on a violin is what she was, waiting to be plucked and played by Harry and his fingers.

But… that kiss never came. 

Y/n’s lips parted and her body came to rest completely onto Harry’s side, but she never felt her lips on his. Instead, the ground disappeared beneath her feet and her hair lifted from her back. She kept her eyes closed, waiting, until-

“You can open them now,” he said. He watched y/n’s eyebrows furrow, and her lips dip downwards. Her dissatisfaction was clear on her face, and even though she knew exactly what she yearned for because it was the exact same thing that he wished for as well, he didn’t make any advances. Instead, he took his thumb and smoothed over the center of her eyebrows to make the wrinkles go away.  “Don’t look so distraught, beloved. Come, come, open your eyes.”

Embarrassment, anger, sadness, disappointment, all wrapped up in one and presented to her in a box with a pretty red bow; deception. She really thought that he was going to kiss her. 

Dejected, y/n opened her eyes and immediately turned to look towards the side to avoid meeting his gaze. She wasn’t sure she wanted to attempt to read further into the situation and receive incorrect signals. They were back in the ring of tall sunflowers, besides the stone bench, though this time their petals were closed as if they were still budding blossoms, arching high towards the glittering stars in the night sky.  

She stepped away from him, and for a moment they stood there awkwardly. Y/n toed the ground, and Harry stood still. The only thing moving on his figure was the soft lilac ripples in the wind. Eons of life had taught him how to be still at times of boredom. 

He cleared his throat, and tried to strike a conversation again. “Time travels differently in the Land of Nurture, which is why I was unsure to say whether it was nightfall here.” He cleared his throat once more, “I suppose that-”

“I’m tired.” A cricket chirped somewhere in the grass. Y/n had no remorse for interrupting him. She needed to remove herself from the situation. Sleep on it, maybe. 

Had she been looking at him, she would’ve immediately kicked herself for cursing the fallen look on his face. “Of course. I’ll walk you back inside.” 

The night call of nature serenaded their stale parade through the garden. And through the halls of the castle. The bottom of her feet grew cold for the first time in the entirety of her visit in the Fae realm. When he stopped at the arch of her doorway, y/n wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers, but she knew it would be rude to bolt for a bed the king provided for her while he was standing right there, no matter her feelings. 

“I would… uhm,” he swallowed, and the harsh rasp of his voice diminished. “I would sleep soundly if I knew that you were going to bed with fresh clothing. I know that you cannot eat, and there are no bathing quarters in this room, so let me… uhm,” a pink tint blossoms on the apples of his cheeks. “Will you allow me to provide new clothes for you?”

Y/n was stunned. There was underlying symbolism to his request, this she knew. How, despite everything he was willing to make sure that she was comfortable. How he cared for a stranger he could obliterate with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to. 

He was getting flustered. His hands were behind his back, but by the way that his biceps moved it was clear that he was nervously fiddling his fingers. “I’ll take you somewhere to wash up tomorrow, but for now, clean clothes is the best I can-” 

“I’d like that,” she nodded slowly, sucking her lips into her mouth. It was her turn to feel awkward, as she stood there silently with her eyes bouncing from his, to the floor, to him, to the ceiling, to him... and he did the same.

“Stand on the pedestal for me?” He asked. 

“Okay.” She moved further into the room, and climbed up to the step. The coldness of her skin was eradicated by a heat eminating from the wood. It made her shoulders sag and her eyes shut in pleasure. It was a good feeling. 

Y/n didn’t question whether Harry would bare her naked by stripping her at the first go, but a tickling feeling of lace wrapping around and underneath her breasts told her that he would place pretty little underthings before manifesting new fabric onto her body. She was staring down at the floor, flustered because it felt as if his fingers were the one’s dressing her. 

And she was right. Soon after the feeling of feathers on her skin stopped, the white milkmaid’s dress with grass stains vanished into thin air, leaving her only in lacy pink underwear that so delicately wrapped around the curves of her breasts and the swell of her mound. They were just barely transparent, and the swirl of her areolas were a ghosting tease underneath the material. 

In a brief second, she realized she was exposed to Harry, and her head snapped up to meet his. A strange, lonely king that was looking at her- a human in a land of immortals- expectantly. “Would you like something different?”

Dazedly, she shook her head, “no. These are pretty.”

Harry’s mouth went dry, but he kept his eyes on hers. He wouldn’t look down. Not yet. He dressed her in a dress that was in similar fashion to the one before. Light, airy, and loose on her body, and in a light blue shade. The straps were thin strings on her shoulders, and pooled on the floor so her feet disappeared.

Y/n stepped down from the stump, her feet on the cold floor again. “I am most appreciative,” she whispered. Her eyes nervously dropped from his again, and he sighed in defeat.

Harry shook his head. “You can say, thank you, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

“Thank you. They’ve lovely.” A yawn ate up the last bit of her sentence.

“You should rest. We have a short walk tomorrow.” He started to walk back out the doorway, but stopped just before he turned the corner. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

She went to sleep that night thinking of the warmth that emitted from his hand against her palm, of the way his lips curled into a smile, of the way that he allowed himself to become so wholly absorbed by what was going on around him. The sticky feeling of embarrassment tried to snake in on the picture she was trying to paint to lull herself to sleep, but y/n pushed it away. 

She went to sleep that night thinking of the Fae king. 

The area where her feet lay at the end of the bed was particularly warm all through the night. 

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

The next morning was equally as glorious as the one from before, only that this time her stomach and foul mood stained the innocent sunbeams that casted across her sheets. 

After nearly a day and a half of not eating, her stomach was beginning to ache. During times when money was tight, y/n wouldn’t eat and drink only water. This was similar to that, but… she had no water. She couldn’t eat or drink because Harry wouldn’t let her. If it was up to her, she would’ve helped herself to a full course meal at breakfast because she loved food, but alas, the king wouldn’t budge. 

Angus was there again, with another note. He smelled like corn. It read,

Good morning, beloved. I will be waiting with the sunflowers for you when you are ready. 

Beloved. Y/n smiled down at the piece of paper, the swirls of ink on paper enticing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Never having ever experienced it herself, she heard of the exhilarating feeling that came with the drop of a roller coaster. The tightening of her abdomen was strikingly the same to the description of what that felt like. 

Angus tentatively poked her thigh with his hoof, and the reminder of his presence, y/n dropped the note and scooped the animal into her arms. He squealed and wriggled with happiness. 

“Why hello, handsome. It’s been a while since I last saw you,” She pressed kisses behind his ears, and when she lifted her mouth, Angus rested his head on her shoulder. “Where’d you run off to, hmm?”  

He snorted and lifted his head, his back legs shifting on her thighs and pressing into her skin. It hurt, but she didn’t have it in her heart to say anything. “Should we go see the king now?” 

Another squeal. 

“Yeah, I think so, too. Let’s go.” Y/n set him down on the floor and placed her feet down next to him. The warmth of her soles and the cold floor was a contrast that made her hiss and lift her feet up momentarily. The piglet stopped to look back at her as if concerned, and y/n smiled. “It’s just a little cold, Angus.”

He bobbed his head, understanding, and waiting for her to get back on her feet to continue walking. The cerulean blue of her dress swished around her ankles as she followed him out and through the castle. Vines and flowers bloomed and sprouted as they passed, bees and butterflies fluttered in through the flowers. 

The curtain of foxgloves parted as she approached and she was momentarily blinded by the morning sunlight. After her eyes cleared, she could see the walkway through the garden, and in a short distance, the opening of the tall circle of sunflowers that encased a bench, where a pale yellow figure sat. It was Harry, and y/n was frozen in place when she spotted him. 

The movement caught Harry’s eyes, and he stood from the bench. Both of them watched each other, frozen in their spots like they were scared movement would blow the other away. Y/n’s lips parted and her chest twisted, the flowers around Harry shivered. 

Angus, bless his soul, bumped his head, annoyed, on y/n’s calf as if to say ‘what are you waiting for? go talk to him!’

“Alright, geez,” she said, rolling her eyes at her friend before she started walking towards Harry. He waited for her at the edge of a stone bench, and toyed with the edge of what he was wearing; a veil-like material over his chest the color of wine, and a snow-white pair of flared pants. The most non-greek outfit of his that y/n has seen. Though his shirt was still extravagant and elegant, flowing bell-caps that reached the middle of his thighs, and an open, unbuttoned collar with ruffles around his neck that exposed his smooth, taught chest. 

“Hello,” she said once she reached him. Up close she could see that there was a wreath of stained purple leaves and fuschia colored flowers with white bulbs in the middle. To her, they were just flowers. Harry knew they were horny goat weeds. He had no control over them, and they usually reflected his mood. At a certain point of his adolescence, his elders noticed that he had a knack for herbs and gardening. It was part of his magick, part of who he was and what he felt. 

One careful look at the draping white cloth of his pants, and she’d see the tenting fabric at his crotch. He was having trouble… containing his thoughts late at night. “Good morning,” his words cut off in a way that suggested there was more to come after, but nothing did.  He shot a quick glance down at Angus, who had plopped down besides his feet. 

The sunflowers around them tilted towards y/n as she dug her toes into the grass and watched Harry, blushing and trying her hardest to hold back a cheesy smile that wanted to spread on her face from just seeing him.

“Are we going swimming today?” She whispered. Whatever tenderness had settled over them, she didn’t want to disturb it with a loud voice. 

Harry understood this, but chose to poke fun at her anyways, “Why are you whispering, darling?” He was whispering, too. Angus watched, his head turning back and forth like it was a tennis match.

She couldn’t hold the smile back anymore, and the blush spread to a warmth on her ears. “I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Yes, we will go swimming today. Angus will be joining us. I believe he may have been a fish in a past life, he loves the water so much.”  He placed a kiss on the creature’s head, and nodded his head towards the river. 

Y/n laughed, and began walking with Harry, the sunflowers following her way out of the ring, and then tilting back up towards the sun when she was out of reach. They moved in silence, their strides in sync so they looked like one. 

“How did you meet him?” She threw out a question just to hear him speak.

He tilted his head to the side to see her, the ruffles of his collar tickling his chin. “Who? Angus?” 

“Mhm.” She hummed. 

“Well,” he sighed, “It was on a rainy spring day, about three years ago, I reckon. Maybe more, this fella does not like to age. He was a victim of a foul trick, and lost his mother.” Angus whined, and Harry covered his ear so he couldn’t listen, the other side of his head pressed against Harry’s chest. “To what extent ‘lost’ goes, it is knowledge I am not privy to.” He removed his hand, and Angus looked up at him. “ But he found me, and we have been friends since. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s lucky that you found each other,” she said, smiling sadly.

“Will you be leaving any friends if you decide to stay?” His interest was heavy in his question, as was the hope that maybe she might stay. That maybe they might reach that mutual understanding. 

Y/n shook her head slowly, “No, I wasn’t much of a social butterfly, and not many people take the time to get to know me. And I think you mean when.” They were beginning to reach the bank, the sound of flowing water louder as they got closer. 

“I- I don’t understand,” his eyebrows furrowed, “were they mean to you?” Right before they dipped into water, Harry wrapped an arm around her bicep to gently redirect her so that they walked alongside the stream. In his arms, Angus was looking to be sleeping. 

“When I was in school, yes. I guess that I just didn’t fit in, because everyone else turned against me, and sometimes girls would make fun of me. Once I got older, I was the outcast at work. And I didn’t go out much because I didn’t, you know, have any friends to hang out with,” she said. 

“What?” Y/n looks over at him, surprised at his outburst. His brows are deeply furrowed and his voice is heavy with hurt. “You did nothing to them and they decided to be foul over nothing? That is completely unfair.’

 Y/n shook her head. “It’s alrigh-”

“No, it is not alright, and it is not fine!” He was getting agitated, and Agnus was waking up. A vein on his neck protruded from his neck. He was shaking his head as he spoke, his distaste showing through his rigid body language; the curls that were pushed back with the flowers in his head fell out with his movements, framing his face in a chaotic way. “It should not have to be this way. It’s the same reason why my* kingdom is in ruins. I just do not understand why-”

With a comforting hand on his bicep, y/n stopped him in his tracks. “Harry, it’s okay. There’s nothing we can do about it now. That’s why-”

She stepped in front of him so that she could place her other hand on his biceps, holding him. When she came into clear view of his eyesight, Harry tilted his head to Angus, who had settled back in the crook of his arm when he noticed that y/n took initiative to comfort him. His pink lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyelashes fluttering every time he blinked. Blinked back tears. 

“I’m sorry. I know that that feels like.” He sniffled and y/n cupped his cheek with her hand, swiping away the first tear that fell. Her heart cracked in two at the wavering of his voice. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“I do, too,” Her own voice was watery. She was always the one to cry when she saw someone else do so as well, “but if it wasn’t that way, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have met you.” 

His gaze lifted at her words, and a weepy frown found its way onto his lips, “as much as I want you to stay, I fear the troubles you might face. The people here do not listen to me, and their treacherous ways are not something that I endorse.” 

Her hand dropped again, to his bicep, and she tilted her head to the side playfully, like she was thinking. “I’ll stick by your side, and-”

He smirked. “I stick by yours, yes.” He took a hand out from underneath Agnus, and bopped her on the nose. “But, that is only after the three days.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, and stepped away to take her place besides him. “Again with the three days? Why are you so hung up on them?”

He shrugged, proud and smug. “I stick by my word, honeybaby.” 

Y/n’s jaw dropped, and her eyes shut for a moment, “H-honeybaby?” Harry’s lips puckered like he was taking joy in her flustered state. He waited for her hands to unclench. A bird chirped in the distance.

He licked his bottom lip, “Do you like it?”

Y/n brushed it off, and cleared her throat. “Come on, I wanna go swimming,” She tried to tug on his delicate sleeve, but he wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her close, looking down at her with fierce domination. Y/n’s eyes widened and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She was, what you could say, intimidated.

He tutted his tongue, his head cocking, “You didn’t answer me, honeybaby. Did you like the name, or no? I wouldn’t want to displease you by calling you something you don’t like.” Y/n shut her eyes, her left foot hooking around her right ankle so she could press her thigh together where a heat was building up. “So, I’ll ask you again, do you like the name, honeybaby?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, opened her eyes, and nodded. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she was frozen. He was a different person then, his eyes a darker shade of green, the smile on his lips borderline malicious with all the subliminal filth it held. “Yes, I like it.” The tent in his crotch was more noticeable then, and if he shifted his hips forward just a hair, the tip of his dick would’ve brushed her silk covering her stomach. He almost shivered at the thought. 

In a blink, he was back to the ‘regular’ Harry she knew. Bright and cheerful. “Come along now, honeybaby, we’re almost there.” An inconspicuous brush down the front of his pants fixed his dilemma. 

They walked for a few more minutes, following the river up-stream, curving around the back of the castle where it trailed off into the horizon, leaving a strip of land wide enough for five people to walk through in between the river that went, and the river that came. A loop; a fence, around Harry’s castle. Down this strip they went, encased by water and a canopy of willow trees, until they came across a fork in the river. Stepping stones rose just above the water level to their right, leading to a lake-like retention of water. A pool, if you will. 

Harry slowed just before the rocks, and y/n got close enough that the first was a step away, “is this it?” She asked. 

He nodded, and set down Angus, who shook off the last of his sleep and hopped through the rocks. Y/n followed after him and jumped right into the sparkling pool of blue water, the same color of her dress; a crystalline aquamarine. She did not care if her clothes got wet, or if she had to walk back to the castle with wet clothes. The distraction was what she needed. 

It felt good, a nice cleanse from the two days of travel and sleeping in dirt, and yesterday, when sweat from the warmth of the Land of Nurture collected and dried on her skin. A heavenly feeling. She hated going to the pool at recreational centers because she hated the smell of bleach, and she didn’t have the guts to go out into the lake by herself. y/n had learned how to swim when she was little, and this? This felt like a rebirth.

When she resurfaced, she pushed her dripping wet hair back and cheered. “Come into the water, Harry!” He was sitting on one of the stepping stones, only his feet and an inch of his pants dipping into the water. “It feels so good!” He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Come in! It’s not even cold!” It wasn’t, it was actually warm. 

She pleaded once more, and he finally gave in. He said, “oh alright,” and jumped into the water, a swift and graceful dive she only ever saw on TV, in the olympics.

He dove deep, just where the water got murky- though it wasn’t even that, the water just got too, too blue*- enough that she couldn’t see him. 

“Harry? Harry, where did you go?” She fumbled around the water, looking around her circle of space for his lithe body. “Harry, it’s not funn- AH!” Her kicking foot brushed against something sleek that moved away, and she shrieked. 

Harry came up in a splash besides her, shaking his wet hair in his face. “Here!” 

Y/n shrieked again, her fright so big that she swallowed a gulp of water and lost her equilibrium, her head dipping underneath the water. Immediately, Harry lunged to grab her by the waist so her head was above water. She coughed up the water that was in his lungs, and breathed raggedly. “Woah, woah, honeybaby,” Harry stroked her hair back, “tt’s alright, I’ve got you. It’s just me, ‘was-” He was breathless, “‘was playing.”

He watched her as her breathing returned to normal. Her hands were gripping his biceps fiercely, and her legs had somehow wrapped around his waist.

When she felt him clear his throat, her eyes focused on his, and her breath hitched. The look in his eyes, the stroke of heathen… it was there again. Though his lips were curled upwards, and he was watching her carefully to make sure that she was okay, there was a sliver of space from control and loss of it. 

Y/n felt it. She felt it every time his legs moved, kicking to make sure they both stayed afloat.

“Can I ask you something?” She was quivering with anticipation in his arms. Although she had faced rejection just the day before, the warmth she felt in that moment was enough for her courage to build up again. 

“Anything, my darling,” he rasped. The octave of her voice rumbled down her spine. My darling.

“Will you… will you kiss me?”

   *                                                *              *

                                                 *                                **

The third and final part has already been completed, I just wanted a clean break between the two :) It’ll be posted after a mafia!h blurb. 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut blurbs #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine

[purpleyellow]

When my love blooms

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Sunny's expeciences during When Our Love Blooms”

a/n: JUST FYI, Jinyoung plays a dude named Jaehyun and Sunny plays the character named Jisoo.  Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open

DAY 1

Looking at herself in the mirror, Sunny fixed her now brown hair and snapped a quick picture. Sending it to the BTS group chat with an “I should have bangs more often :p” she quickly locked her phone and put it away, leaving the small changing trailer the stylists had led her to.

“Sunny, let’s go this way so you can do a table reading before we start shooting” One of the producers called her to one big room where most of the staff were already seated in a big table.

Looking for her name tag, she saw her empty spot next to Got7’s Jinyoung, who was already seated playing on his phone. The few times Sunny had met him before, they never really interacted that much, since she usually stuck to talking to Bambam because they’ve known each other since trainees. Bowing respectfully, she sat down next to him trying not to stay too close.

“Excited to start shooting?” Jinyoung tried to make the atmosphere less awkward, turning towards her as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, a little nervous as well” Sunny nodded, suddenly trying to remember all of the acting classes she had taken the week prior.

“You’ll be fine, table readings are a great way to get used to the storyline and build confidence in your character” he smiled sweetly at her.

Smiling a thanks to him, she paid attention as the director and producers started giving out tips to the actors and fully explaining the storyline to every little detail. “It’s important all of you get in sync with the ages you’ll be interpreting” was a sentence heavily repeated, since the story would be set in two different times.

After about two hours, when the meeting ended, the two idols stood up and grabbed their stuff from the table. “Your character is really in love with mine” Jinyoung nudged her with his elbow smirking.

“He’ll be just as whipped for her in less than two episodes” Rolling her eyes, Sunny joked back and started walking side by side. 

Looking around to see if anyone was paying attention, she decided to share one of her worries with him. “I know this might seem out of nowhere, but I’m dating Sehun from EXO. And by what they said a few minutes ago there will be a lot of kissing involved. Do you think I should tell him about it?” 

With wide eyes at the sudden confession, Jinyoung assessed the situation before speaking “Does he know you’re acting and I’m the love interest?” After Sunny confirmed he shrug his shoulder, face back to its relaxed state “Then it’s implied. Mentioning it to him would only make it look like it’s a bigger deal than it actually is”

Still a bit unsure about it, Sunny tried to assure herself it would be fine, Sehun had never been the jealous type and he looked very excited when she told him about the project. Sensing her uncertainty, Jinyoung placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, seventy percent of the shots will be manipulating camera angles and lighting, we’ll just need to stand very close to each other” She rose an eyebrow at the last part and he sighed “I swear everything will be strictly platonic, just try to look like you’re in love with me when the cameras are rolling” With a breathy laugh, Sunny calmed down a little.

DAY4

Stepping out of the fake bedroom, the girl grabbed a tissue handed by a staff member and started to dry a few tears. Waiting for the director to tell her what to do next, she looked around and found a very excited boy jumping and waving her way. 

“Okay everyone, that’s enough for today” The middle-aged man shouted and Sunny took off towards J-Hope. 

Engulfing her in a hug, he patted the top of her head and smiled brightly “I missed you so much. You’ve been working a lot lately, we barely see each other on the dorms since you always leave way too early and come home very late”

“It’ll only be for a couple of weeks. Here let’s go to catering, I haven’t eaten yet” Sunny grabbed his arm and took him to a bunch of trailers parked. 

After she got her lunch, they sat down in a table and she started eating with him stealing a couple of bites here and there. “Jungkook said he will pay you a visit as well, he’s trying to set a date with Yugyeom so they can come together”

“He’s really tight with his 97 friends huh? I wonder if he would come at all if Jinyoung wasn’t in this” Sunny rolled her eyes remembering the many times she had to repeat what she had said because Jungkook was too absorbed in his group chat to pay attention.

“Let’s just be happy he’s making friends” Hobi smiled and Sunny laughed “I’m being serious, you were very quick to befriend other idols and do your thing, I thought Kookie would never leave our side” 

“But he did talk to other people” Sunny tried to reason with him.

“Yeah, only when V or Jimin was around, the boy took introverted to another level” he looked around and reverted his gaze to her. “And you, have you made more friends here?”

“I talk with a few actors and the staff are nice I guess” Sunny shrug her shoulders “You just said I made friends easily, why so worried out of nowhere?”

“Because I know you” Hobi smiled gently at her “You probably spend most of your day worrying about doing a good job and studying the script. Not trying to break this to you, but I don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to do this again, do you really  want to let the experience pass instead of making connections and having the time of your life?”

Sighing, Sunny placed her arms on the table and looked around as well “It’s just, people here are always working. I know that seems like heaven for me, but it gets tiring only talking about techniques and obsessing over the storyline. Also, I don’t think other people are interested in talking with an idol. I’m like a choir kid who wanted to try out the drama club”

J Hope laughed at her comparison “I’m glad you’re not leaving Bangtan to become an actress then” He smirked and she rolled her eyes with a small smile “How about the other actors? I guess Jinyoung’s on the same boat as you”

“I guess so. We talk in between shots sometimes, he’s probably the closest I have to a friend” as she said that the boy raised his arms in victory.

DAY6 (yes, it was on purpose)

“Okay, cut” The director yelled and Jinyoung retreated his lips from the corner of Sunny’s mouth “Please don’t leave the phonebooth, I’m going to check if we need to do that once again”

With the amount of space restricted, Sunny rested her back on the glass and the Got7 member tried to back away as much as possible, but it wasn’t enough to be a respectable space. 

“I’m sorry if this is awkward,”  Jinyoung said looking everywhere but at her. Not that Sunny knew because she was literally doing the same. “I’d open the door, but I’m sure he’d yell at me for doing so”

The girl didn’t have time to respond back, as someone yelled they were done for the day. Finally breathing properly, she stepped out of the small place and saw Yugyeom and Jungkook on the back watching the staff work. 

Looking at Sunny with wide eyes, her groupmate walked very fast towards her and dragged her somewhere more secluded. “Do you know how intimate that looked?” he said like he was scared making the girl laugh.

“Well, it is a romantic drama. I’m sure it was supposed to look like that” she said shrugging her shoulders and leaving to get out of her costume.

Grabbing her arm again, Jungkook prevented her from moving “Still, it’s awkward. Aren’t you uncomfortable with it? We can talk to your manager and get them to change the script or something”

“Are you crazy?” Sunny put her hands on his shoulders and shook him a little, getting him out of his shock “They signed me to play their character, I’m sure they would straight up fire me if I did anything even remotely close to changing the scenes”

“Well… I-I’m uncomfortable with it” He stuttered a bit but ended up crossing his arms and fixing his posture as if he was some kind of authority, all Sunny did was raise an eyebrow at him “Sehun Hyung won’t like this either. Plus you’re like a child, isn’t this like, illegal?”

“I’m literally a year younger than you” she reminded him,

“Well, it’s legal then” He nodded “But, Sehun? Does he know this?”

“Of course, I’m not going to lie to him about where I spend most of my day”

“I’m not talking about that” it was Jungkook’s turn to raise an eyebrow, making Sunny sigh.

“I haven’t told him about the kisses, if that’s even what they are, but he does know I have a love interest” She linked arms with him and started walking towards a trailer, she desperately wanted to get out of those clothes and go home “I’m scared if I talk too much about it it’s going to seem like I care too much about what’s going on”

“But if you don’t it might seem like you’re trying to hide something” Jungkook pointed out being led by her “If it were me I’d want to know. I would probably become petty though”

“Yeah, you would” Sunny smiled at his personality.

“What do you mean by those not being kisses by the way?”

“Oh. Fake kisses are so boring, like, lips aren’t even fully touching. Plus, the real feeling of-”

“That’s enough” He cut her off flustered “ I already know that I don’t know why I needed for you to say it. Please forget I even asked”

DAY 7

“So, that’s what has been going on” Sunny said to her phone. Pacing from one side to the other on the empty makeup trailer.

“Okay” She heard Sehun’s muffled laugh on the other side “I already know you would be doing stuff like that. It does worry me a little that something made you feel like you had to tell me this now”

“I had talked with Jinyoung about this and he told me it wasn’t a big deal, but Jungkook came yesterday and said it would be better if you were aware”

“Oh, so you asked your fake boyfriend what to do about your real boyfriend?” Sunny could feel him smirking through the phone and unconsciously rolled her eyes.

“This really isn’t going to become a problem right?” She stopped pacing and faced her brunette figure in the mirror.

“Trust me it isn’t. You’re going to give me double the kisses to make up though” Sunny smiled at his silliness “I have to go right now. I love you”

“I love you too” she blew a kiss and he hung up.

Leaving the trailer, she saw Jinyoung also walking towards the set she was going to. “Hey, settled everything with the boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, and he said he already expected it” Sunny started walking with him, the space between them enough to fit another person.

“I told you, you should have trusted Sunbae” Jinyoung smiled at her, using his nickname from the drama, and Sunny rolled her eyes once again.

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to start calling you Jaehyun” she spoke with a mischievous grin and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Aah Jisoo, your friendship means the world to me”

2 Months later

Sunny was laying on her bed while scrolling through social media and checking out people’s reviews on the latest episode when her notification bar rolled down showing a new message from Sehun 

“Come to my place, we need to talk”

(please don’t kill me, pt 2 will be coming soon)

#bts 8th member #bts fanfic #bts female addition #bts female member #bts female oc #bts oc #bts au #bts addition #bts additional member #kpop addition #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop female oc #k pop oc #k pop au #k pop addition #female!addition #female!oc #female!kpop #female!koc #koc #Sunny

[rockhoochie]

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader -  Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you!  Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting  😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67​ - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss?  Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading!  Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close.  We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday,  planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions. 

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.  

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me.  There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves.  It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite... 

I catch myself before I start to fall too far.  I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again. 

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”. 

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.  

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies  - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her.  I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight. 

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours. 

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply.  But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that. 

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a  room upstairs,  a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain. 

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?” 

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine. 

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me. 

Is she? 

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.  

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...  

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay, 

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay, 

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word.  The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you 

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer. 

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight. 

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead. 

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over.  I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin. 

I never want to stop kissing him. 

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…” 

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to. 

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent  ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up.  I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then  I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing. 

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life. 

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece. 

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy.  But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled. 

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum. 

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss. 

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional. 

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him. 

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move. 

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her. 

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms. 

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life. 

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together. 

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.  

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow.  I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.  

I set a kettle on the stove to boil. 

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.” 

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.” 

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!” 

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic,  sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between: 

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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playing with a heart

title: playing with a heart pairing: lee jooheon/reader genre: office!au/friends with benefits!au/unrequited love!au summary: whenever any of them goes through a heartbreak, the other is there to make them feel better—physically, emotionally, in the verge of desire. as time passes, heartbreak becomes more bearable, romance is more understood and the two office coworkers grow apart. jooheon may never become a memory, she believes, pondering if she wants to go back to his arms simply because he would never break her heart or because she wants to give it to him after all those years. type: angst/fluff/suggestive/romance/humor word count: 17,178 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The folders are not uneven. Not when the colors are matched. Purple, indicators of the creative processes of the newest infomercial, goes with purple. The blue ones include casting for the next image of their product, sufficiently prominent in their own stack, edges lined with edges, dust moved by pats of her palm against the surface. The brown ones, however, boring beyond repairment, are the ones with the most information—needed for the camera-people, the crew of editors, the investors, sponsors…all of which should be studied by her.

Though, organization does make it easier. There is this prickly feeling in the back of her eyelids, accompanied by the frenzy of hand movements when she sees mismatched colors or disorganized matters. Her desk, pristine and clean, is a place that is often used by her and still, not a single speckle of dust dares to rest on the surface. Everything has to be perfect, like the timeline of an infomercial. If it develops its idea too soon, people will feel lost. If the idea takes too long to approach the watcher, someone will get bored.

Being the head of a department in an infomercial company is its own responsibility. Being so while also being way under forty is the tight feeling of pressure that she never dares voice out. But what does she voice out? If anything, her words are always glued to the back of her tongue, thinking that actions speak louder than words…and practically eating down her worries when her boss had insisted on having another head on the department. They want to expand, way beyond what they had already constructed, and while her ideas have been significantly developmental for the growth of their company—her boss’ words, not hers—, there needs to be something else.

Someone who doesn’t mind about the colors of the folders, or organizing the coffees for the meetings that the team take part of every Friday.

A person whose innovation was creative, more than logical.

The drink he ordered from the coffee girl should give her a glimpse of who he is. The swirling of the ice cubes inside the cup drop water on its surface, sweating down until it rests on the ebony colored long table, perfect for meetings. Her fingers ache to press a cloth down under that surface, to wipe and wipe the reminder of someone being in her line of job, sharing her office, making her the second in charge—uncontrolled, in a way. Before she could do so, the weight of the clear glassed door of the meeting room is pushed open, the air conditioner from outside freezing the place and doing wonders for that iced coffee, droplets becoming less rapid on their downfall.

The first person to get inside is not a worker of her team. None of the editors, none of the planners, no one that she could recognize—that doesn’t make him any less fitting. Some people can fit somewhere even when they are clearly not part of such a spot, and he’s the sponsor for such a concept.

It only takes some thinking for her to guess who he is. If he’s not from her team, he must go by the name her boss had uttered into the quickened air of the morning yesterday. Lee Jooheon. Whose black hair is perfectly styled back, as if the world bent at his will, sharp and complicated eyes not quite matching the dimples that appear on his features once he lets the door close under its own movements, catching sight of her.

“Oh, I didn’t know someone would be here.” He says, moving. “Good morning.”

Jooheon is a rampant tornado from the moment he meets her. From his casual style when he tugs at his perfectly snug tie, leaving it dangling just a little bit. From the way he takes a seat in front of another person’s iced coffee, instead of sitting in front of his seat. From the way his legs part for a second before crossing over each other and reaching towards the sets of folders. He inspects one, leaves it there, crooked.

Had it been anyone else, she’d be annoyed. Her blood would boil, rise in the way of a volcano before realizing the gates of her mouth will never open, will never utter a single word. She doesn’t, however. Something about him exudes beauty, knowledge, in the way he can be so chaotic yet so sweetly so at the same time. Unknowing, he is, much more when she exchanges the iced coffees before he can set his lips around the straw.

“This is yours.” She breathes out, voice too unused, coming in a whisper that is not expected of the head of a team. Jooheon lifts his gaze at that, raising his eyebrows slightly before wrapping his fingers around the cup of iced coffee. “Uh, I organize everything before the meetings. This is not your seat, but if you’d prefer to be here, I could re-arrange everything.”

“Where is my seat?” He asks, inspecting her features as if he’s surprised at such…professionalism. Coming invited, he still was too forward, and she had no issue with it. The depths of his dark eyes speak of ignorance; maybe, that’s what Jooheon is—crooking things without knowledge, all because he thinks the world works just like his mind does.

Her fingers extend, pointing at the two seats at the edge of the table. “The one on the left, right beside mine.”

Jooheon stands up, though not quite taking his gaze away from her as he speaks. “So, that would make you the head of the department.” A curt nod, she gives, earning a narrowed-eyed glance from him before his lips finally take the first sip of the iced coffee. “You’re pretty soft-spoken for being one of the bosses here.”

“I guess,” She says, now taking a good glimpse at him when he is a bit farther away. His eyes, those that she had seen from up close, are bathed in shadows when he is away. Lips that look too chapped, body that seems fragile with each breath he takes and a pulsating mannerism on the side of his cheek, tightening and tightening, as if about to explode.

She may not be good with words, keeping them dead on her mind, but Jooheon is the contrary and whatever he is caging in—troubles that he, obviously, wouldn’t tell a person that he has known for five minutes—, he can’t seem to stand.

“That’s why you’re here.” She adds. “…My boss would like for me to be like you.”

The newest transfer of the department—and at a good position, at that—finds comedy in her voice. So much so that his rounded cheeks show the depths of heaven in his dimples, slowly but surely growing in the tiniest of grins when he says: “Ah, come on, no one should want to be like me.” And the weight of those words does not go unnoticed by her, heard and felt when she realizes that Jooheon’s day must have creaked under his own weight, compilations of memories marking him as useless. “But…whatever. Ah, nice to meet you.” His smile becomes brighter, eyes twinkling, a mask for him. Beautiful, yet not…how he’s feeling. “Care to explain to me what today’s meeting is about? I was not informed further about the information.”

Taking a seat beside Jooheon, the expanse of his body heating her side, should have felt like him protecting her, but for that one time…this strange feeling that looked to have him belonging, instead of simply fitting in, overtook her. Glazed her over to the point that the chaotic nature of his existence, of him, would be an invitation for her. For, there needs to be disorder for her to organize. There needs to be chaos for the world to rearrange itself.

###

The first time he got his heart broken in front of everyone, it didn’t even show.

Every morning of the past month has consisted of watching Jooheon crumble to himself. The smile is there, but it’s too bright to be real. The crispiness of his button down shows the wrinkles of tossing the fabrics aside and picking them up for the next day. Talking to him comes in spurts of knowledge, in random conversations while he is seated by the mess that is his desk and she is in her own world of immaculateness. She’d watch him, how his fingers work on the keyboard and sometimes, he ignores calls as long as they come from one number. One number that may be the cause of Jooheon’s somber expression. A set of numbers that she wishes she could erase, all for the sake of not watching him hunch to himself, as if broken.

Her observational skills make her oversensitive—she knows this. Guessing and putting pieces together works for puzzles, but it doesn’t work for people. Jooheon, still, goes out with his new coworkers. He’s on time for meetings and for the dinners that follow after, and maybe the conversations that mostly consist of listening to him may be the cause of her romanticism towards him. Of seeing him as an attractive person, sharing a tight space with her, and yet knowing little to nothing about him and hence, not letting him get to know her, no matter how hard he tries.

His hair falls on top of his forehead, the ashy strands glistening with his usual gel when he leans over her shoulder, trying to look at what she’s typing on her laptop. “Is that the one terrible script that we denied last week?”

The thought of such an atrocity being aired on TV is enough to have her sighing, leaning back on her chair, almost a little bit on him, if her shoulder caressing the expanse of his broad chest is enough leverage. Jooheon doesn’t move, comfortable in his position, his knee pressing to the back of her seat. “Yes,” She initiates, going over the first few paragraphs again. “I’ve been fixing it for the past hour but the idea is just so bad. Condom commercials are already difficult, even worse when they make them corny like this.”

When she turns to look at him, his eyes are already on her. Glistening, reddened lips wrapping into a smile when he juts his chin forward. “Leave that for tomorrow. The team have already left for dinner and they’re asking if we’re going to join them.”

The document blinks back at her, calling her to stay. To rearrange the letters, make sure the punctuation is perfect, or scratch it entirely and ask her team of writers to start anew. How can one say no to the shape of his lips, the mole on his eyelid, the briefly lasting happiness of him that she wants to embrace and get to know? The answer remains unknown for her, but she knows what she would usually do had she been asked for anyone else.

“I don’t know…I think I should stay behind.” After all, talkative is not one of her traits and sitting down while having dinner with everyone not uttering a single word is awkward for her. No amount of pushing could ever make her be part of that group, even someone as Jooheon had fit in entirely.

His fingers hook around the edge of her seat, moving her entirely until he is hovering over her. Smiling. Jooheon smiles but he never does it with the heart, and it takes all in her to avoid the attraction that tells her that, maybe, in her silent pleas she can get to sneak a grin away from him. Genuine. “You shouldn’t. Firstly, because I’d pay for you if you went.” Jooheon begins with a good reckoning. “And secondly…because it’s not fun if you’re not there.”

“How so?”

“You’re the only person that makes me feel at ease here.” He comments, pushing his hand against her wrist before wrapping his fingers idly around it, bringing her up to stand face to face with him.

“I rarely speak, Jooheon.” She conquers, her free hand reaching for her laptop and saving the last few bits of the document before turning it off. Who is she to say no to the storm that promises to sweep her away?

Laughter rises on his tired features, unspoken threads of problems snatched away from his head at the sight of her. “That’s the fun part. I’ll have to take the words out of you. I’ll make myself so interesting, you will never stop talking to me.”

This determination of his will only be the cause of their doom—their imminent closeness that could either end badly or perfectly fine. This could strengthen their job together, just like how it could become their weakest link. Yet, with the warmth of him and that enigma that wraps around his every being, she plays with her fingers, wrist still held in between his own when she smiles at him. “…I guess you got lucky with the fact that you’re already interesting.”

A quirk of his eyebrow should be enough, a reaction that does not match the drag of his feet when he gets to the office early in the morning. “Oh, is that so?” He asks, fingers moving downwards, playing with the bracelet that dangles from her skin. A smile, that’s all she can give him when the tips of her ears turn red and she has to pull away. For her sanity, or perhaps because nothing good ever comes from playing with fire. “I guess I’ll have to find out what it is that makes me so interesting.”

While he trails right behind her as they get out of the office, continuing with the conversation easily, her mind wanders on the possibilities of nearing fire so much that she burns herself, but aches are still existing beings. Maybe, this danger that she sees raking from him is just part of her imagination. Sixth senses don’t have to be right all the time.

###

The sour taste of the coffee rests heavily on her throat. Silent, like she normally is—how she was bound to be the moment her opinions were pushed in disbelief when she was younger. Not a word could be heard from her as she inspects the office; not a lot of people were there, to start with, some of the security guards, a few of the cleaning team and some assistants. Someone lacks in there, the importance of his seat captured by the faux lights in the room, ones that she should turn off to replace for the natural lights that passes through the curtains, but the neither-nor morning leaves her paralyzed, almost too lazy to move.

On the back of her eyelids, she can make out the figure of him. That daydream in the form of a coworker, the culprit of her wildest dreams, the taste of sweetness that she longs to feel after a long sip of caffeine. Jooheon is an energizer—the more he heals, the more he beams, but coloring a picture will never be enough to cover the small glimpse of color that passed the lines, or crossed it rather. No matter how much she speaks to Jooheon, he still doesn’t know her and hence, she doesn’t know him. Acquaintances, they are, but that doesn’t take away his power.

The strength he has of making her feel as if her clothes are constricting against the soft breaths or sighs, he takes out of her with his dreamy presence.

But some matters will remain silent. Some flirtations cannot be anything more than. The thought passes her head when she looks at her reflection when opening the curtains, the polished windows showing the expanse of her. Mug of heated coffee on hand, gray skirt matched with dark tights, white shirt with an unkempt collar. She’s controlled, which is why her fingers feel the fabric of the collar until the center is perfectly aligned with her axis. The fall-out is simply not her style.

Happiness floods the otherwise silent office when Jooheon comes barging in with someone from her designing team. Tsubasa. The shorter male is holding a cat in between his fingers, its green eyes widened in surprise at the amount of attention. Jooheon, instead, stands in front of it with a smile, weaving index finger caressing the cat’s neck, soon after calling out her name,

“…We found this cat on the way to the office.” He calls out, though her body is already folding over itself softly, trying to run away from the smaller animal—still, in a way, terrifying for her. Perhaps, it’d be the fine beige hairs it’d leave on her clothing if she got too close, or it’s the fact that animals had never been too pleased when around her. “Are you scared of cats?” He asks, only to have Tsubasa scoffing.

“Boss, lighten up. This baby could be the office’s pet.” The worker brings the animal up to his face, gentle paws pushing his glasses down until the material falls on the floor. That is enough to have Jooheon laughing, and the woman reaching forward when Jooheon nears her.

The warmth of his arm wrapped around her shoulder is comforting, much more when he continues speaking: “See? That’s a good guy. He even hates Tsubasa as much as everyone else.”

“Hey!”

“What?” Jooheon tilts his head to the side, beaming down at her while her eyes inspect his features. When will he resolve every question inside her head? As to why her hands only seem to find leverage when he is around and how she wouldn’t mind messing her life up for once as long as he’s there to support her through it. “So…maybe, I could help you pet it.”

“I’d love to. Animals hate me.” His fingers slot in between hers, hand reaching forward when moving along with his. His body is pressed to her side, speaking softly—a habit he may have learned with her.

“No one could hate you.” Tsubasa holds the cat out for her to pet its fur around the neck, only lasting a few seconds before the cat closes its bright eyes to relax. “See? He’s nice. Animals are nice.”

“You prefer dogs, though.” She comments, one of the many things they have shared on their conversations together, only to hear Jooheon chuckling.

“Don’t say that in front of the kitten.”

“Ah, he doesn’t understand.” Tutting him, she takes the kitten’s paw in between her fingers, rolling the fur softly in between her fingers and sharing one smile with Tsubasa before the moment switches immediately.

Rugged claws cling to her thighs, passing the material that covers them and ripping them in the process of running away. Perhaps, a little bit overwhelmed or still not used to the people around him, the cat attacked her quickly, in the blink of an eye, only capturing her attention when a hiss leaves her lips, hand letting go of Jooheon’s to reach for her thighs. The tights are broken, ripped apart to show glimpses of her skin with blotches of red, scratches showing the tiniest bit of blood.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Tsubasa voices out her thoughts, because she shall not speak her worries out, but the pain and embarrassment is enough to have blood flooding her head. Tsubasa is the first one to act, already looking for the cat around the office. “I’m going to get it out of this office. I think he really doesn’t like the boss.”

Jooheon’s eyes are concentrated on something else, on inspecting her features for any source of pain when even as she is kneeling down to look at the scratches on her legs, Jooheon’s face appears underneath her eyesight. “Damn it, how am I even going to be able to go around the office looking like I got ran over?”

“You won’t, take your tights off and—” Her coworker rushes to open the door for her, taking off his blazer in the process of covering the front of her thighs. “I don’t know, if you want me to buy you a pair of pants or another pair of tights, I can do it. We just need to clean those scratches up, just in case.”

The quick movement of his steps in front of her shelter her as they move away from the main office, their pathway leading to the closest bathroom. “I think I can deal without a pair of tights. But fuck, these scratches really hurt.”

The door is opened in front of her, Jooheon’s hands delicately leading her inside while he stands outside. “I’ll clean them up for you,” He says, eyes trailing over her features before he licks his bottom lip into his mouth. “But be quick, I don’t want them to get infected.”

The position she finds herself in only ten minutes later is a loud picture. Jooheon, kneeling in front of her, while at their office. Door locked, curtains drawn closed, a cotton pad dabbing onto the newly freed skin that has her tossing her head back and closing her eyes tightly. Animals still hate her, but life may not. The concentration on his features is unlike anything she has seen; eyebrows drawn together in a front, lips pressed together and letting his dimples be seen for reasons other than being utterly happy, only parting from time to time to blow on the healing skin.

His phone rings from the other edge of the room, blinking in that natural way it does, but Jooheon doesn’t seem to move at all. He never does.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

His index and thumb roll the cotton pad onto itself, dusting it on the deeper scratches by her knees. For a cat so small, it surely did some damage. “Let it ring. I don’t want to pick up.”

For the first time, her throat aches to ask, her mind desires to know and she has the bravery, when looking at the top of Jooheon’s head, to say something to the man that has worked its way into her deepest questions. Unanswered. “You never get it whenever that ringtone goes off. I know it’s someone that’s bothering you, but…” Her whisper trails off, caught off guard when Jooheon looks at her, before returning to the task at hand. “If you want to talk about it, we can.”

His mouth remains shut for a few seconds, leaving her at the edge of her seat the more the silence drags on. “It’s…it’s a girl I was seeing a few months back. No matter how many times I tell her it’s over, she keeps bothering me.” Jooheon replies and while the words may have seemed harsh, something in his tone wavers.

“How does she bother you?”

Jooheon trashes the cotton pad then, blowing on the skin of her thigh with a shuddering breath. The tingle that goes down her spine should have not been electrified by his actions; hands spread on top of his own legs. “We hooked up; she had a boyfriend. I got beaten up by said boyfriend and she keeps calling me.” He retorts, her lips parting after wetting them, releasing a soft sigh once he does so much as try to stand up. Her fingers hook on his wrist, however, like how he normally does when he tries to tag her along.

“…Wait, why did you get beaten up?”

“Ah, I was all talk.” Jooheon cusses himself, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. Not anymore, a few strands let loose at that and even then, she can’t bring herself to care. “I thought that fighting for it was the right decision. She said she loved me, after all, it didn’t matter if she suddenly had a boyfriend because—huh, I really thought love was enough.”

The image of him fighting, fists bawled to protect his utmost desires, is almost something she can’t imagine. “Don’t worry, it happens.” She replies, standing up just in time to look into his eyes. “I knew something was bothering you from the moment I met you.”

“Why?”

“When you’re not smiling, your sulkiness shows immensely. It’s not a bad thing, but you should…let those feelings flow.” She replies, hands going up towards his forearms, speaking to him in a delicate manner. “I’m here for anything. I know it’s difficult to get over someone—”

“I’ll get over her.” Jooheon speaks over her, looking around her features before his eyelids become heavier, fluttering closed for a second before he opens them again, looking down at her lips. “I’m on the way there.”

She smiles at that, almost ironically. “How so?”

“With you.” The bravery of his voice comes from the chase. Jooheon is the kind of man that loves going straight for the brightest diamond, not to taint it but to cherish it. His smile widens at that, looking into her eyes once again. “You may not notice it, but talking to you has been the only way I can seem to feel less stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Her voice touches his skin softly, breath ghosting over his lips from the proximity in between the two. “Being brave is an act not a lot of people can recognize, but I do. You were brave, not stupid.”

Her coworker hovers one hand on her shoulder, as if afraid to touch her, but with all the intention in the world to ask for permission in one simple glance. “I’m sure you’re the only one that sees it that way.”

She quirks an eyebrow at that, eyes roaming over his features and those pair of lips that are just calling her to heal him. To see that smile in its biggest expansion. “And I may be the only one to help you forget.”

The sky swirls in all kind of colors when Jooheon takes up on her promise, body reaching forward until his hands are splayed on the back of her neck, lips meeting in a less-than-brief reunion. There is something tragic in the way his lips seemed to be perfectly made to kiss hers, as if the slope of his nose and the cupid’s bow on his lips was meant to caress every fiber of her skin. He’s dangerous in the way he moves, abdomen leaning forward, hands relaxing until they are resting on her waist and for the first time, she can’t find control in her. No longer can her voice get caught in her throat, not when her back is pressed to the dark wood of her desk, when Jooheon whispers all his secrets in one kiss, a few swipes of his tongue against hers, in the way he lets go of her skin to say.

“And I’ll help you forget, if you need me, too.”

###

The world intertwines in feelings, in connections past the oceans and the lands, crossing the bonds of a million people in between to unite two. Two souls, who even from afar, could love each other so strongly that the gates will be opening, slowly, until a hug will remain engraved in their brains—the reunion, she’d call it.

But that is not her situation. The gates towards her love, if anything, close tighter the most she tries to talk to him. Her boyfriend of eight months, the one man after Jooheon that had been powerful enough to sweep her off her feet, to have her forgetting the existence of heartbreak and simply let go to the simple caress of the fleeting kisses he left before he had to depart. The plane going suffocated her, but she kept going—against all odds, she is a believer. A believer that seriousness in a relationship will always end in a happy ending, that what she pours in her texts will be able to reach Jaehwan, the man whom she promised her utmost love to before he left.

It was her fault. A meeting with her old friends had been enough to unite them; that one man that she had not seen since high school, the one person that she had never even looked at twice but had suddenly grown into handsome features. Wide nose, rounded lips, and a swipe of his hair that almost made him look comical. Jaehwan, whose translator ways had interested her, is flying away with the passing of time. Less texts than at the initiation of their relationship, hence less calls. If someone asked her now, she would not be able to describe the timbre of his voice.

Someone she does recognize is the man that enters the office with utmost glee, weight off his shoulder, whistling a song under his breath. Jooheon is recognizable; from top to bottom, from the finest hair on his face to the sole of his feet, a man that she had gotten to know in more ways than one before her relationship with Jaehwan started. She needed a companion, to think irrationally for once, and Jooheon needed to forget—to feel like love was meaningless if not physical, to feel like himself again.

Not a single word had been uttered by him when she started this relationship, other than the fact that Jaehwan, to him, is as flavorful as a speckle of salt on boiling water, there to create pasta. Meaning, lacking spice, or lacking whatever it is that would make him interesting. The moment they met, by some kind of occasion in which Jaehwan had picked her up, Jooheon’s smile had been so tight and fake that she almost thought he’d pass out from the pressure on his cheeks, but…the matter became less meaningful when more people in her life claimed that whatever she saw in Jaehwan, no one else sees.

Her fingers hover over her lock-screen, touching it slightly to keep the image there. The last picture Jaehwan and herself took before he departed, his smile bright when her lips press down on his cheek. Immaculate, unlike Jooheon, the man dresses so preppily he could very much come out from a movie of the 90’s.

“Jooheon,” She calls out, well aware that she has spent a little bit more than she should looking at her phone screen. The man doesn’t stop his motions, pouring two cups of coffee to start the day nicely for the two of them. “Why do men cheat?”

“Ask someone who has cheated,” Jooheon replies, taking the mugs in between his fingers before moving towards her. Confident and relaxed strides and the dimples that never leave his face whenever he sees her, that’s what she looks at when Jooheon takes a seat across from her, the chair dragging obnoxiously against the floor. “And not all men. Don’t generalize.”

“Ah, I’m speaking about majorities.” She swats her hand, taking a sip of her coffee before letting out a raged sigh. Jooheon may have been a sexual escapade, some kind of romantic relief, but beyond that…he’s a friend. He may know what to say in this situation. “I have another question.”

“You always have questions.”

“I’m a curious lady.”

Jooheon quirks an eyebrow at that, bags forming under his eyes when he sneakily adds: “Oh, I know.” He conquers, her eyes searching around the room in case anyone has heard them, for the tone of his voice must have crossed any kind of boundaries with a taken woman. “But ask me, since I already know where this is going…”

Of course, he’d know. Intelligence is not something people expect from Jooheon, but it is very much a term that belongs to him. “Okay, do you think…Jaehwan would cheat on me?”

Honest, he is, when he says, “There is no way for me to judge that.” He breathes into the dense air, making her groan lightly while she throws her head back. “Like, that’s a complicated question. There are people like Tsubasa—assholes of assholes—that never cheat. There are angels that cheat all the time. It’s a matter of values, and how much they respect the person they’re with.”

That doesn’t help her, because she needs a vision into Jaehwan’s brain. She craves for the feeling of being wanted, or perhaps some words from him that could secure his return—for her to feel like she is not in the sidelines of his life. “I guess…” She lets her voice trail, only to have Jooheon sighing.

“You want to talk about it?”

In any other occasion, she would. Jooheon is the type of man to keep secrets treasured, but the more she thinks about it, the less she wants to voice it out. Perhaps, if she lets the air know about the intentions inside her head, something would switch—something would change. Instead, she shakes her head, watching as Jooheon stands up from his seat and moves towards the door, perhaps to start on one of his informercial projects.

His fingers rest against the doorknob before he opens it, looking at her from afar. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you, okay?” He says, though the words are not meant to be as weight as her head make it out to seem. “…Not just in the way we used to be before, but as a friend.”

“I know.” She says, though there is nothing more than she’d want that for Jaehwan to kiss her like Jooheon did. Like he wanted to exchange his soul with hers and let the two coexist.

Though, once the door closes and she looks at her phone, she can think of someone who is not always there. Suffocated, she feels, when she tosses her phone on her purse and prays for something to happen to the two of them. A happy ending, she wishes for, but at this point…do those even exist?

###

This bench she is seated on is the worst place to be at. Not because it is miniscule, or because it is so crooked and torn that it may as well fall under her own weight, but because this is the place in which the smokers of the building rest when on their lunch break. The aches of cigarettes cling to her clothing, dusting it, falling on top of the black fabric and creating patterns around it. The wind in this part, right behind the building, is brash, moving her hair out and about with its strength. This can only push into her nostrils the stench of the trashcan nearby, but with her knees pushed to her chest and her lips trembling at the ache of her heart, eyes already dropping silent tears, she can’t bring herself to care.

Because for the past eight months, she has been nothing but trash. Jaehwan had seen her as some badge of pride, another woman to have under his belt, and suddenly forgot about her. The pictures in her screen scalded her fingertips the moment she had to get in a friend’s account to see what her boyfriend had posted, for he had blocked her, only to be met by pictures she had never seen. With another woman, at that, far longer than she had ever been him with. Months that transcended into years, a love that happened before she even existed, before she even got the title of a girlfriend.

More like a fucking mistress.

And someone as organized as her, that shook out of exasperation whenever she saw something out of place, had suddenly been torn into pieces, rearranged, a puzzle that may never fit, because her heart is broken way beyond relief. Sometimes, she’d catch herself looking forward—imagining all the kisses she had given him, all the hugs she had shared, all the promises that he whispered into her skin before fleeting away. Jaehwan may not have been the best of lovers, but when has love been about that? It’s a feeling that pries itself into her life, condescends her, treats her as if she’s worthless and makes her the cause of it all. For trusting. For loving.

Who even loves anymore?

The weighty metal door that leads to the back of the building creaks so loudly that it takes her out of her trance, but she only presses her face harder into her knees to stop anyone from seeing her face. The scrap of someone’s feet against the pavement floor is loud, and said person does so much as take the small seat on the uncomfortable bench by her side. This person clearly doesn’t care about their office attire getting fucked over, smelling like cigarettes, bathed in ashes, pointlessly existing.

A hand settles on her back, and she works her way around taking her blazer’s sides and using them as a curtain for her features, but her name is called—so softly, tutting, that it almost feels like she is back into being the person that she used to be. Before eight months ago, when she had given herself to the hands of the devil, sporting a sense of comfort.

This is the kind of person that has heard her, even through her silence. Jooheon is the one man that had touched her skin and while not trying to reach for her soul, had done so. Softly, in that matter of his that screams danger but translates into dulcetness. Once she lifts her gaze, still keeping most of her face covered by her blazer, Jooheon is, indeed, there, but not in the way that she expected him to be: lips pursed in a soft smile, eyes gleaming under the light of the sun with worry.

“What is that?”

A rap of his knuckles against the material of the helmet, he answers: “A motorcycle helmet. I took it from Tsubasa in case you wanted to let your anger out and threw something at me.”

Shoulders shaking thanks to her sniffles and her hands rubbing at her face to stop the tears, she scoffs at his words. “Jooheon, I’m not going to throw anything at you. I’m angry at someone, just not you.”

What she doesn’t expect is for his hand to reach forward, patting her skin away from its dampness when the helmet muffles his voice. “Let’s talk about it. You need to tell me what is going on.”

A deep sigh leaves her lips, though a brief smile is given to him. “Only if you take off that helmet. You look hideous.”

Jooheon does indeed wrap his hands around the helmet, putting it down on the floor. “Thank God, I was starting to feel like that one racer—Lee Hoseok.”

The wind blows on his dusted pink cheeks, eyes inspecting her face like they always do, as if he wants to search her purpose in just her gaze or know her like the palm of his hand. Memorize her, he has done a couple of times, in which she’d hide her face in his neck and try to take the attention away from her features. On times in which Jooheon would be a close looker, as if hunting for that glimpse of her heart—her intentions, even.

Her fingertips reach for his, not a hold of lovers but one of leverage, his thumb rubbing against the back of her palm when she says: “Jaehwan cheated on me. Or more like, he cheated on someone with me and I didn’t even know about it.” Before Jooheon could reply, however, she surprises herself by speaking more. “What is it about me, Jooheon?” She asks. “Am I that undesirable? Am I not enough to change someone’s life? I have done nothing but love him, respect him for the past eight months…and he didn’t even feel guilty. He cut me off in the blink of an eye.”

“From my point of view, and I am sure there are other people that think like this, you’re not undesirable.” Jooheon speaks, patting her hair to make sure it doesn’t look as untamed as it is, thanks to the breeze. “And Jaehwan is just an ass. Since he couldn’t get anyone to suck his dick when he was younger, now he’s out here trying to play the cards of a womanizer because he’s got some good looks, if you squint.” That is enough to bring a smile to her face, chuckling at his words. Jooheon is way better at voicing out his thoughts than she is. “I really don’t know what you saw in him.”

Brought together by this bound that exists around them, as if one of them is oxygen and th other one needs to breathe, she rests her head against his shoulder. “A future.” She answers, voice vacant the more she thinks about it. “You did look like you couldn’t stand him when I introduced him to you.”

Jooheon chuckles, his eyes half-closing from the harsh light of the sun. When she looks at him, his dimples are present and unlike the last time they were this close, she is the one heartbroken and he simply exudes peace. Gotten over it, he seems to have done. “I just couldn’t understand why you would go for someone like him.”

“What does that even mean? Jooheon, he was not bad looking—”

“I know,” He answers. “But something didn’t click. I don’t know the dude, but now I realize I must’ve realized something, deep down.”

“That’s right.” Though, betrayal still clings to her, making her feel dirty. The hands of a man whose heart was devoted to another woman had caressed her skin, and it felt oddly fitting for her. Jooheon had gotten over someone with her help, Jaehwan had used her for the pleasure of feeling more like a man and now…she’s left wondering what that makes her. Perhaps, not worthy of a fulfilling relationship. “Jooheon?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you think I’ll ever find someone who loves me?”

Jooheon’s smile widens at that, looking down for a millisecond before resting his hand on the skin of her thigh, pulling down her skirt to cover up more of her. “I’m sure of it,” He replies, looking at her before giving a nice pat to her leg. “…And until then, I’m here for you to remind you the kind of woman that you are.”

“Too quiet to ever have someone interested in me?” Her insecurity pops out, pulling away slightly just before she hears Jooheon correct her.

“Too thoughtful to not have someone wanting to know the depth of that brain of yours.” Jooheon presses his finger against her temple, face hovering over hers before he sighs. “Stop being insecure. He doesn’t deserve to have you thinking about yourself in this light.”

She shudders at the reality of it all, at the reception of such a situation that always brings her to his arms—because, with him, her heart seems to be protected, body worshipped, mind caressed with the gentles of memories. Jooheon, though just a friend with benefits, had promised to be there for her through every heartbreak, every moment in which she’d feel down, in the shape of a friend or a lover. In this case, however, now freed from the restraints of a relationship and seeking for revenge, to prove to herself that someone else could definitely desire her, she speaks.

“Thank you, Jooheon, for being here with me.”

“I did say I’d help you get through your heartbreaks, just like you did with mine.” Jooheon replies, lips pressing down on her cheek before the dangerous treat trails down to her ear. “I’ll do anything you want.”

She chuckles at his words, hand connecting to his shoulder to push him away softly. “Then, let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“That sounds great.”

It takes less than she would have imagined to get up from such a bench and dust off the remaining pieces of her broken heart along with the aches on her skirt.

Jooheon will always be there to help her forget.

###  

“Are those groceries?”

“I don’t know, Jooheon, do these look like anything but groceries to you?”

Anyone would think that their relationship is weird. Well, lack of one thereof. Their friendship indeed does fall into a sense of normality that would, otherwise, be seen as romance. As she unloads the recently bought groceries, the eerily calm Sunday morning playing in the background along with the faint sound of the early news speaking into the soft air, Jooheon lays his body against the doorframe of her kitchen. One glance at him is enough to confirm that his shirt is still tossed somewhere on the flooring of her bedroom, taking mental notes to pick up on the way there, but that is much too bothersome when she gets to see the glory of Jooheon early in the morning.

You see, it always falls back into this. The two of them, together, calling it simply sex—relief, in a way—before spending more and more time together. His name always touches the tip of her tongue when she meets her high school friends and she surprises herself talking about him from time to time, only hoping that he does, too. Jooheon, even when he could leave once the skin of his neck becomes painted in the shade of her lipstick and his body is sedated by absolute bliss, decides to stay. Especially when it’s a Sunday morning.

His pants are on, thankfully, his long torso coming into view when he goes to stand by her side, helping her unload the vegetables that she had bought—in her attempt of having more salads and less instant food, she had make it a necessity in her household. That, along with fruits, one that Jooheon takes out to smack her head with.

“Who would have thought you had an attitude to you?” Jooheon questions, face void of that professionalism he has around the office, hair done a mess and all thanks to her. She, the most organized person in this world, can become carefree when around him.

Opening the doors of her refrigerator, leaning her weight against the ceramic decorations on the wall, she starts to stack the device up with some of Jooheon’s help. “You’ve known me for over a year. You should know I aim to surprise.”

The joking manner is there, much more when Jooheon wraps his arms around her waist, body leaning forward when the warmth of him almost burns her, skin clinging to the uncovered parts of her forearms. “Aim to surprise me with some breakfast, then, because I’m hungry.”

She gasps at his words, though the smile on her face screams that she knows he doesn’t mean it. Jooheon does have some bite to him, back to his teasing self, a little bit out there. “Make some for yourself!” The whine in her tone is present, feeling his wide cupid’s bow trail down her cheeks until he captures her lips in a short kiss. “Help me out put the groceries inside the fridge instead of talking nonsense.”

Listening, Jooheon moves towards the grocery bags, taking some out and giving them to her. “I just think that it’s funny when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” She replies, looking up from the refrigerator’s door to see Jooheon running his fingertips through his hair. His face breaks into a smile, cheeks becoming prominent under the weight of his happiness.

“I’m halfway there, just give me time.” Jooheon answers, her lips bursting into giggles when he comes over to her with the last few bits of the groceries, looking at her with interest.

“You’re not going to get me mad.”

“Oh, word? You think I won’t?” The challenge is there, some dramatic tone in his voice the more he teases, and she nods her head, snatching two apples away from her batch before tossing one at Jooheon.

“I know you won’t.” Because, there is no way that she can truly get mad at Jooheon. The man has inspected every crevice of her soul, studied every bit of her body and made it his, made every man poor in comparison to what he could do to her. Not only when his hands are pushing her clothing away, but even when they’re merely talking—when he’s the first person she sees almost every morning, or how he never forgets to share one or two meals outside of the work with her. Definitely not when his fingers trail on the edge of the high neck of her top, rubbing the fabric with the tip of his index finger.

“Ooh, this fabric is thick. What are you hiding under there?” Jooheon pretended to peak, only to have his hand taken in between her fingers, staring at his eyes with a weak smile on her features.

“Nothing.”

“You never wear that turtleneck. First, the sleeves are too short. Secondly, you don’t like it.” Truthfully, Jooheon is equally as observational as her. Without counting, of course, that she had never been one used to the attention. Only someone like him would know what type of clothing she likes, one of their many conversations, some useless, some not. Only Jooheon would realize that the weather is too hot for a turtleneck, but there is still something to hide.

“You’re talking as if you don’t know.”

“Oh, I know,” Jooheon says, leaning forward until he is mere centimeters away. “Isn’t it annoying? That I know but I still ask.”

“No,” She utters, voice sending a kiss his way with the tremors behind it. “You’re talking to someone who dealt with Tsubasa after his break up, day and night. I think I can deal with you being annoying for once.”

His fingers, splayed on top of her arms, bring her closer until she stumbles forward, arms grasping at his waist. “Well, looks like I lost.”

“And what do I win?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow before Jooheon leans forward, pecking her lips.

“A kiss.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Somewhere, she had once read that when something is meant to be—it will be felt at the depth of her heart. This moment, in which she is trying to snatch a kiss away from the man that puts his face away, feels like it is fitted for forever. Only, that it just isn’t the case. Jooheon will fall in love once again in the future, or so will she, and when something goes wrong, they’ll get back into each other’s arms. Perhaps, a duller feeling, like a bad day or the need to get off. All matters that connected them, and it’s best to keep it that way, but the domestic look on his features spoke about more, just when he hangs out with her, making her feel like someone is willing to stay.

For her.

Until one of them decides that they need to move on, that is. Only friends that help each other feel less lonely, less heartbroken, always thirsting for the attention of a lover.

He stays because he’s lonely, and so is she. Is there anything else to it? She wants to think there isn’t, that the warmth on her chest comes from the familiarity of his touch.

###

To this day, an anniversary, it makes two years and seven months since the last time she kissed Jooheon. Two years and five months since he started his relationship and three years since she realized that, if he broke up with his girlfriend, she’d probably be back in his arms in the blink of an eye.

Is it Jooheon’s anniversary, or her anniversary of longing for him—lonely, not sedated for this amount of missing him? Not as a friend, but as a lover instead.

The thought first came to her imagination when Jooheon first called it quits on their rendezvouses. His voice had been so lifted, so beautiful, prompting about a date that had gone so well—his rant had been everything any person would like to hear. From the shape of this woman’s smile, to how conjoined he felt to her career as an odontologist, to how he couldn’t simply get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. At the time, she shrugged it off; it was not the first time Jooheon ended their beneficial relationship for something somewhat serious, but the more time passed, the less she saw of him. Even as a friend. As a coworker. All that left Jooheon’s lips is that one name, the dreaded name of the too-perfect woman.

Sora.

Sora, whose smile is too bright, too beautiful. Whose talkative persona matched Jooheon’s better than hers could ever, and the few times she has seen her in the dinner getaways with the team at her office, she knows Sora is even more affective than she has ever been with Jooheon. Just, better, that’s what Jooheon seemed to be aiming for. Hair pushed back, the swirl on her short hair reaching her earlobe at its lowest point. Small lips that welcome a bright smile, her job is not one to disappoint.

Her spot is too cramped, elbows trying not to bump into anyone as she fetches another piece of the stirred vegetables on her plate. The restaurant is far more filled with people—children of some of the workers, the boyfriends, girlfriends, fiancés, mothers, fathers, all in the name of a pre-Christmas celebration. Alone, as she always is, always meant to be, she sits by the middle, having no one to talk to but the perfect view from the tray of sauces she’d snatch away, if her hand was not too far away and if she could actually voice her concerns out, for once.

Or maybe, she’s mortified. Jealous, for some reason, clinging to her in the obnoxiously boring attire that clads her. Gray skirt, white button down, and the same hairstyle ever since she got out of college. Mundane, monotone, the type of woman no one would stick around for too much because…there is nothing special about her. Sora, on the other hand, is a laughing track on feet—or even the show itself. Watching an episode of FRIENDS would definitely include less laughter than the one she receives for merely opening her mouth.

It doesn’t help that Jooheon and Sora are right across from her, his eyes beaming at the mere sight of her. He’s in love, and yet, the little demon at the depths of her heart screams for her to do something. To take him back.

But she couldn’t, that’s not the type of woman she is.

And that is, also, not the type of man Jooheon is.

He doesn’t even look at her. Over two years of not seeing her in that light takes away any hopes—extremely bad ones, at that—that he would ever go back to his arms. So, for the umpteenth time in her life, she shuts her mouth and stands up, reaching forward for the stacks of sauces before connecting her gaze with Sora. The woman sends her a small wave, and she can simply nod her head with a faux smile. The least she could do is get along well with her, and the few times they have talked, Sora was nice. A bit over the top with her jokes, but some people thought they were comedians.

Sliding the utensils in between her fingers and dipping some of her vegetables on the sauce that she had poured on her plate, the moment is cut short when Jooheon’s chair is pulled away from the table, talking in between his girlfriend and himself before the moment deems itself too dense. If the oxygen was lacking before, it seems to disappear the moment she realizes the position he is in—smiling, because he is on one knee, dropped to Sora’s side who is holding her mouth in both hands, the table now quiet when he asks:

“Sora, will you marry me?”

And of course, this is meant to happen. The day in which Jooheon, as innocently as possible, stomps on every possibility of them ever being something more than. More than what? She doesn’t know, perhaps more than sex toys for each other, or partner replacements for when things get too tough. His eyes shine with uncertainty, people whooping at the mere sight of him. Jooheon, in there, proclaiming his love for the one person that had seemed to capture him.

…It’s not her.

Sora tucks a strand of her extremely short hair away from her face, taking Jooheon’s wrist as she speaks to him softly. Though, anyone could make out the words she said. “Jooheon, stand up.”

His smile falters, and even though she has always wanted him for herself, this is clearly not what she wanted. His heart practically rips through his shirt, wanting to reach for the woman who hisses at the sound of his: “What?”

“I—I need some time to think about my decision. I think I’m not ready.” Sora mumbles, having Jooheon smiling uncomfortably, the velvet black box on his hand closed when he takes a seat once again.

“That’s okay,” He turns to the group of people, smiling when he moves his hand. “We’ll have to wait, then. There’s no rush.”

But that ring seems to be thought out, in Sora’s favorite shade—gold—and from the little glimpses she had gotten of it, it was definitely expensive. Sora’s chair is pulled away from the table, excusing herself after saying. “I don’t think I can do this.”

But Jooheon follows, a fighter over everything and anything. Seated on her spot, she waits for them to come back, plays with the cabbage on her plate until it could become part of the ceramic, but after some time, she stands up from her seat, not even giving much of an excuse as she moves through the open restaurant. People don’t look at her, invisible, much less interesting than the couple that had practically fallen in front of everyone’s eyes, but she doesn’t care, much less when she pushes the door open and she sees him.

His back is hunched, fingers holding onto that one box that is in between his fingers, and if she could hear his thoughts, she would know if he’s pondering on throwing it in the middle of the avenue for some car to step over it or keep it to himself. Sora is gone, like her purse by the table, like the smile on Jooheon’s face. When her hand rests on top of his back, his muscles stiffen and just when his eyes connect with hers, he sighs.

“It’s you.”

“Who else would it be?” She asks, and maybe his face showed clear signs of wanting it to be Sora, but she tried to push it away. Instead, there are more important questions to answer. “What happened?”

“She said we needed some time off,” He explains briefly, the wind caressing his features, the much more casual clothing on his body in shades of blue and black. “…Apparently, she needs to be free for a while before actually settling down. She said she needed time, and if she wanted to come back, she would.”

And she wants to scoff, but it is not her position to do so. After all, no one had surprised her with a proposal. “So, it’s a break?”

“A break-up.” Jooheon corrects, pushing the box away in his pocket before bitterly laughing at himself. “Because the one day I decided to take someone seriously, I get fucked over.”

“Jooheon—”

“No, it’s okay.” The man shakes his head, letting out a ragged sigh before crossing his arms over his torso. “Could’ve been worse.”

“You need to let yourself feel, Jooheon.” She tells him, taking his forearms in between her fingers before breathing his name softly. “Look at me.” He doesn’t, and she calls again. “Look at me, please.”

He finally does, speaking in a delicate tone. “What?” There’s a pout on his features, deep and rooted sadness in his eyes. Crushed hope.

“If she loves you, she’ll come back.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

The black night eats her alive, perhaps in sin, in lusting over someone who is clearly in love with someone. The two of them had made it clear that nothing would ever cross their lines of coworkers, friends, and benefits. There is no seriousness to think about, no depth, no backstory, no heart to play at his mercy. Nothing.

But what she feels is not nothing, and this may be the devil speaking within her, or perhaps that one sense of security that looks for him—desires to have him feeling just as protected.

“…You’ll forget eventually, if she doesn’t.” The weight of those words even has Jooheon sighing, knowing fully well what forgetting has always meant for them. Running away, never facing the consequences of love in solitude, leaning on the other to feel…loved. “But she’ll come back, you’ll see.”

Those words may bite her in the future, and the bullet of life, betrayal, loyalty and purity is stuck in between her lips when Jooheon says: “How do you know?”

“I don’t,” She answers. “But if she sees what I see in you, she won’t be able to let go.”

He laughs, not sincerely at all, because he thinks of it as what a friend would say. What he doesn’t realize, however, is that letting go of him will always be difficult. Who’d let go of the curtain that shields them from the Sun every morning? Who, in their right mind, would let go of the hand that has kept them from falling into the depths of the ocean?

Who could stop wanting to have him when getting all of him, but none at the same time?

“Want to go back?”

“I’d like to go back home.”

“Text me, then.”

Jooheon smiles at that, sneaking his hands inside his pockets to get his keys out. “I will. Good night.”

“Go home safely!”

This is the best behavior that could come from whatever turmoil goes inside her heart, wanting to trash everything away, disorganized, so unlike herself. Maybe, a part of her wished to be who she is when around him, or she simply feels the most honest to herself with Jooheon.

The night might be the only one to know this deeply rooted secret of hers.

###

One night. What can happen in one night?

Lips spread on top of her neck. Danger. That can happen. Just like the sense of comfort that comes from feeling his breathing by her side, deep and tranquil at some points, rapid and seeking for release in the other. Stupidity can come as well, with the constant reminder of how much of a second option she is. When he took a taste of her lips that night, it felt as though she was taken a bite of a prohibited fruit—as if, for some sense of glory, she got to feel him, coexist in the same wavelength as him, but never have him. Because, even now, when Jooheon is once again free and trying to liberate himself in the way that he used to before his relationship with Sora, that one night had been enough for him to prove that it was either her, or no one at all. Her, being that one odontologist he can’t get out of his brain.

One night, three months ago, is enough to have her dizzy to this day, and the blame falls on the jet-black night they shared together, in the comfort of his home, breathing each other’s names in hopes of engraving it in their souls. It never happened, but right now, the memory comes in full force with each trip to the bathroom, each twist of her gut, the sweat that pools at the roots of her hair and the excuse that she comes up with to leave the office early. One night is enough to have her in the hospital, hands wrenched together, heart going to fast it could lead her into cardiac arrest at some point—guilt, fear, all of the like settling on her stomach, making the nausea even worse.

This has been going on for days. Four, to be exact. Woken up by the sense of needing to throw up and doing so, as well. One look in the mirror may be deceiving, there seems to be nothing different, but everything seems to be out of place at the same time. One night can do so many things, just like it can bring someone new into the picture. The image of the possibility is a punch to her chest when she is reminded of where she is. In a hospital, lying to her own boss, in front of a gynecologist’s consulting room, waiting for her turn with other women around her. Some alone, some accompanied.

Most of them definitely not worrying about being pregnant with the child of a man who doesn’t love her at all. Desires her? Possibly, as far as physical connection can go. Appreciates her as a friend? Certainly, but could that be the case if she calls Jooheon?

The metal chair is too cold when she leans back, looking at that contact that starts to blur under her gaze. Small eyes, wide smile, rooted dimples and a glint in his eyes that is mischievous. Jooheon is gentle, in a way, in the depth of his soul, and had it been Sora, he may have rushed in there…but what about her?

A coworker.

The head of the department along with her.

A friend who helps him forget he feels.

Her fingers wrap around the device, not caring about nothing more than the possibility of a little human being growing inside of her, with his eyes or his nose, her sentimentalism or his strength. None of the latter mattered when her phone is brought up to her ear, taking a few rings until he calls her name and she speaks softly.

“Jooheon, I’m at the hospital…and I’d like for you to come here. Can I send you the address?”

The chatter in the background stops, the sound of footsteps following his next statement. He must have moved somewhere quiet. “W—What happened? What? Are you alright?”

Alright? Alright, she would have been, if years ago she had not gotten oversensitive about Jooheon’s smile not being entirely pronounced, or if she had just gotten over her own heartbreak with Jaehwan by not tangling herself up with Jooheon. Or, rather, if she had given him time to grieve the rejection of a possible marriage. Instead, she finds herself to be the antonym of alright. “…No,” She answers. “I’m scared.”

“Did something happen to you?”

She can imagine his next reaction when she says: “I think I may be pregnant. I’m about to get checked, but I feel so scared in here. Can you come over?”

Jooheon could have easily hung up on her. He could have screamed at her, telling her why the fuck her pills did not work, and for how long she has felt like this. He could have told her that, no matter the results, that child will never be his. Hell, he could even say it could have been anyone’s, but a shuddering breath is what Jooheon gives her. “…Are you sure?” A hum is all she can muster, before Jooheon clears his throat. “Sure, send me the address, I’ll be there.”

Her eyes close tightly, aware that people may look at her pathetic worried figure when she breathes out a tiny: “Thank you.”

The image of him when he pushes the doors just fifteen minutes later, rushing through the hallways until he is in front of her, will forever be engrained in her brain. His hair, always pushed back, is now messed up on top of his head, fingers hooking around his tie to loosen it when he sees her. His smile is tiny, panic settling in his eyes the more she inspects him.

Once he takes a seat beside her, his hand hooks around her, tightening it softly—reassurance. In that point, she really starts to see something else. If they were to have a child…who would they look like the most? Would they grow up wondering why their parents are not together? Would they not care? Would they be held tight by Jooheon, as if they meant the world, or would they live with a bitter father that never wanted them to begin with? The questions clouded her brain—always a curious woman with too little answers—but the moment is cut short when another woman enters the consulting room and there are about two people before she has to go inside.

“H—How did you know?” Jooheon asks, voice uncertain, looking at her for the briefest second.

She connects gazes with him, tightening her hold around his fingers to feel safer. How could she end up having a child when her life feels so…perfectly put together that it doesn’t exist? “I—I didn’t get my period this month. Not yet, at least. And…I’ve been throwing up too much these past four days, I can’t even get in my car without getting sick.” She whispers, moving her hair to one side of her face, cradling it softly. “Jooheon, trust me when I tell you that I don’t want to ruin your life with this. I don’t want you to hate our child, if they even exist inside of me, because of our wrongdoings. It’s all my fault for sleeping with you when you’re so caught up with Sora—”

“It takes two to tango. Don’t blame yourself entirely.” Jooheon tries to play around, but a smile can’t even phantom to even appear on her face. “I’ll tell you the truth: if we have a child, I’m taking care of them.”

“But…” She trails her voice, leaning back on her seat and resting her hand against her forehead. “Jooheon, you don’t love me.”

“I love you as a friend. I owe whoever may be growing inside of you that much.” As always, he takes responsibility, making her close her eyes tightly, tears wielding up at the corner of her eyes, unnoticed by the nurses that pass by her, the people that go from one corner of the hospital to the other, equally as mortified as her—some even happy with the outcomes. “Don’t cry.” He tells her, knowing what her silence means, the sleeve of his blazer already coming up to rub at her eyes.

“What…what if there is a baby growing there? What will the people at our job say?” She asks, breathing deeply when her lungs feel too inflated, like she can’t even let an ounce of oxygen in. “They’ll think I’m some slut, and I may be at this point. What if I am not a great mother? Some people are not built for this, it has never been in my plans to get pregnant, much less like this—”

“Hey, no rushing.” Jooheon brings her hand up to his mouth, plump lips settling on the harsh skin of her knuckles, not minding the sturdiness of the bone. “From what we know, it could be something else. You’re constant with your pills—”

“What if it isn’t?” Uncertain, she questions. Never had she worried about such a thing, always running on luck, or maybe just being mindful—like she is with anyone, but Jooheon. The ignition to her loss of control.

“Then, we’ll have to start thinking…” Jooheon prompts, letting out a soft breath when he sits with his back straight, one leg crossed over the other. “Do you think they’d have your eyes?”

This baby, that possibly doesn’t even exist, is in Jooheon’s imagination. If they do exist, he wants to know about them—to raise them and love them, something unexpected from him, and while she may be equally as lost…she finds herself opening her eyes and sighing. “I hope that, if they do exist, they have your eyes.”

“Why?”

“They’re prettier.”

Jooheon, for the first time since being there, actually laughs. “They’re not, come on—”

“You’ve never seen yourself when you smile, clearly.”

And this is the part where it downs on her, that daydreaming about a child with Jooheon, out of all people, is exactly what she shouldn’t be doing. She can already imagine it—the people at her job speaking, talking about how she snatched Jooheon away the moment he separated from his possible fiancé. Her job, for instance, could be taken away from her or put in a lower position from her lack of professionalism, to sleep with her coworker—and her closest one, at that—just as absentmindedly is so unlike her. That, along with the cries that woke her up late at night, that awkward moment that may come when this child asks how their parents met. Not only that, the changes on her body—on her soul, on the life she lives, on the days she gets for herself, on this rooted insecurity she feels for even speaking out whatever bothers her.

…She hasn’t even voiced out what she feels for Jooheon, much less is she able to lead a household to bring a child into this world.

By the time she is inside the consulting room, examined but so far from it, looking up at the ceiling and hoping that the dents in the ceiling can be counted by her pupils, she feels even more scared. The place is too cold, just like the substance spread on her lower abdomen, and the contrast is immense when Jooheon holds her hand. When, in the eyes of this doctor, they are just a scared couple. A couple, not two friends who happened to have sex a few times and then, ran off to someone else. This is no way to bring someone into this world—

How can she welcome a baby when she had not loved herself enough to not fall into Jooheon’s arms again, no matter how nice they were as people when alone?

The doctor, Mr. Hong, wipes off the gooey liquid from her abdomen when he speaks softly, levelled. “You’re not pregnant.”

It doesn’t make her happy, just like how it doesn’t make her feel sad. If anything, her muscles loosen, her lungs can feel liberated again and she lets go of Jooheon’s hand, sighing in relief when she throws her head back. Whatever imagine they had thought out in the waiting room—his eyes, her lips, that mole on his eyelid, all vanished away behind her eyes, into the depths of the memories she doesn’t need to come back to for a while.

“What do you think her stomachaches and vomiting are, though?” Jooheon asks, helping her up the bed when the doctor clicks his pen and places it inside the pocket of his lab coat.

“I’m going to ask for some examinations. It could be food poisoning just like how it could be bacteria of some sort. There’s no knowing if we don’t check.” The doctor answers, already slipping a piece of paper in between her digits, signed by him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, too. Keep trying.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Always at your service. Have a nice day.”

Once out the door with Jooheon, the look of relief in his face is enough to match the smile on her face, but one good look at his features lets her know that, even when he would have taken care of his image as a father, he may have preferred this outcome with someone else. Sora. To hold her hand through it all, to kiss her knuckles instead, to pout at the reminder that they are not going to have a baby. Sora and Jooheon. Jooheon and Sora. In love. Or maybe possibly wanting to build a future together, one in which someone like her would be forgotten, because if she had once served him as a source of forgetfulness, she is now entirely erased from his brain at the presence of Sora.

This is the moment in which she realizes that her future with Jooheon is not written, but oh, how badly is her desire to have him. Not carnally, but as someone that loves her. The one man that would help her out in the mornings after their meetings, the same guy that knows her like the palm of her hand, the one that understands her silences, her hums, makes them into music and connects them as thoughts. But…

What is she to him?

Curiousness killed the cat, but who is she to him?

He said it earlier—

I love you as friends.

I love you.

As friends.

Friends that love each other—no.

Because enough is shown mere weeks later, when laughter comes from Jooheon’s mouth as he nears the office, talking to Sora—and she hears the nicknames that spill from his lips, the way he seems to be entranced on her speech about her day. He may understand her silences, but he doesn’t understand the longest one, the one that screams for him to love her instead, just like how she loves him. Instead, her pregnancy scare had been a push, something to remind him to stop trying to forget with some other woman, but go back to his normal life instead.

A life in which she will always be in the sidelines, that one silent watcher, radio silence in a way. Jooheon will always go back to someone else—be it Sora, be it anyone who captures him, but never her. Had she been too easy, too organized, too…mundane? Had she been too quiet, too reserved, too unreachable? But he loved to chase—

And she liked to be chased by him, until the road was empty, dust falling on her eyelids until she swears she can see the image of him.

But he fleets away.

###

The screen plays the same video over and over again. An infomercial that she can’t quite wrap her fingers around. The background, too dull. The actor, too overexcited. The concept, broken. This perfectionism of hers has only heighted with the passage of years and has only pushed her for more opportunities. Over a year ago, the fear of losing her job to an unplanned pregnancy had been enough to take into consideration her future—think that, for once, she needed to have her voice be heard, to make a name for herself over everything and anything. Hence, the hardest work ever put into her projects comes from her.

Her pen clicks once she halters the video, the screen perfectly displaying the ending of the video. With the pointy tip of the pen, she points towards the video. “I don’t like the hues in the back. It looks cheap. That color of purple is not appealing to the eyes. If anything, it’ll hurt the viewer’s eyesight.” She comments to her partner in the office, the one person that has accompanied her for the past few years—once a transfer, now a necessity. “I know we can’t keep spending money on remakes, but someone in the designing team is giving us information that is not being portrayed on the screen. We were never told they’d use such a background, and I don’t remember hiring this guy as an actor.”

The man’s tongue peaks on the side of his cheek, nodding his head at her words. “We may have to ask about it, because…” His fingers trail over the organized piles of folders, opening one before showing it to her. “Someone told us they’d be using a house as a background, not a green screen, and the actor had not yet been decided upon because the company said they’d look for someone else.”

She writes down on her notes, sighing at the utter irrationality of it all. “The newbies must have done it,” She says. “They don’t have enough patience to wait on a project. I don’t know what is going on with them at this point.”

“We should have a talk with them. I think it’s already enough that we give them several chances when—” Jooheon adds, though his voice is cut short when he tries to speak again. His eyes lift up at that, looking to her side to see the man seated beside her, Jooheon’s hair shorter than it was in the past, eyebrows drawn together before an amused smile appears on his lips, fingers pointing towards her collarbone. “That is new, when did you get that?”

Such notice comes to her with heat up her face when her chin folds slightly to look at her collarbone, catching a glimpse of her new tattoo appearing from underneath the small slit of the opened buttons of her shirt. The rose is delicate, thin, small and yet so painful, a reminder of a nice time just a month ago. “It’s a tattoo.”

“Oh yes, Sherlock. Of course, it’s a tattoo!” Jooheon points out, leaning forward until he is squinting at it and she hooks her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, pulling it to the side the slightest bit to let him see. “That wasn’t there before.”

“I got it a month ago.”

The black haired man looks up at her, taking the pen from her fingertips and pointing it at her accusingly, though the smile on his features speaks wonders. “…So, the rumors are true.”

Confused, she asks: “What rumors?”

“That you’re out and about with the tattoo artist that participated in that one commercial we did.” Her shamefulness can’t hide on her face, cheeks puffed out even when she tries to hollow them to push the grin down. Taeoh, she knows who the person Jooheon talking about is—the one man that had actually waited for her long enough, that took it upon patience and clear charisma to take up on her heart after her last relationship. Without counting Jooheon, Jaehwan had been her latest boyfriend…and that ended up well. Now, with a new title to take care of, she decided to keep it a secret. What is hidden can’t be hurt. “What was his name? Taeoh, right?” She hums, taking her pen from his fingertips just when Jooheon smiles. “Oh, Taeoh. Are you dating him?”

May as well move on, from Jooheon, from the heartbreaks caused in the past and how he tried to heal them, and stay with someone who tried. For her, for a future, to love her through and through. She pulls her shirt straight, buttoning it up while she speaks. “What is it with you? Why are you so curious?” She tuts, only to have Jooheon clasping his hands together. The ring on his finger beams, Sora’s and Jooheon’s marriage still not taking place…but definitely closer than it had ever been.

“Because, after Jaehwan, you were not willing to be with anyone.”

Anyone but you, she wants to correct.

The day in which everything blossomed into something else may have come in the exact time in which she didn’t have them. In those years spent in Sora’s arms, when her solitude mixed with envy and jealousy. Jooheon was the only man clouding her thoughts, and it’d eat her alive until the day she died, but…moving on was important. It was the only thing that could help her grow into her skin, to a better person.

“…Jaehwan was over four years ago, Jooheon.”

The man gasps at that, eyes widening, lips parted. “For real?”

She chuckles, leaning back on her seat and nodding her head. “For real.” She answers, because Jaehwan may have been a timeline in her life, but her ambition with Jooheon had lasted for years. At some point, letting go of him came as second nature—as necessary, for her health, for her vision in the future. “…It was so long ago, I’m over Jaehwan. Besides, Taeoh had proved to be a great guy.”

Jooheon’s face softens. “By giving you a tattoo?”

“Ah, I wanted a tattoo either way.” She swats her hand, looking ahead before thinking of all the reasons as to why there is a flutter in her chest of hope, a glimmer that tells her that people may have used her—Jooheon, himself, without noticing—, and she may have used them back, but there is always a point of changing. Growing up, some call them. “…He just eased into conversation. Made me feel more at ease…welcomed me into his life. He’s…the type of man that never pushes you, never lets go you either…he holds you, cradles you in his hands and—” Understands the mess that she had always been, helping her rearrange the pieces of her by herself, with some help of his own. “He’s…amazing.”

For a moment, she thinks she sees a flicker of fire in Jooheon’s eyes—lips puckered up, Jooheon gives her a smile. “I’d like to get to know him.”

Looking at the commercial one again, now with the volume lower, she shakes her head. “Jooheon, you know what happened when you met Jaehwan. You couldn’t even look at the guy without getting angry.”

“And he ended up cheating on you.”

“Cheating on someone with me without my knowledge, actually.”

“…Cheating on you and his other girl. Point of the story.”

“Do you really want to get to know him?”

The plea in his eyes answers an unspoken question in between the two, one that she had never been loud enough to voice out—did you even love me as more than a friend? The thought crosses her head from time to time, when she learns and studies the complexity of their case. Not trying, or perhaps, never giving themselves a chance to try, because she’s too quiet and Jooheon was always reaching for something else. Now that he is an impossibility, too close yet too far away, too…reckless to reach out for, she wonders more. The question ponders on her head…what had been about her that never convinced him to try for something more?

This bites her as guilt, freezes her bones like a taste of ice-cream while diving in with teeth. She has a boyfriend—Taeoh, who has done nothing but try to get her to learn herself as much as he does, but her mind still comes back to Jooheon. Whose hands had seemed to be carved for her, whose dangerous ways in the sheets may have coincidentally engraved themselves as the best she’s had.

But this is not about sex.

It had…never been about sex.

It had been about her curiousness, the type that had her finding herself at his door—questioning herself why she is there if not for him, as a soul, as a body, as an existing being at the same time as her. This warmth he radiates when he smiles at her and nods his head excitedly at the idea of meeting Taeoh breaks her heart the slightest bit, because this means that there was no past.

Whatever she had to discover went back and choked her, got the words away from her mouth when she almost confessed her feelings to him, and now it comes back in waves. In soft reminders that kiss her skin, a tingle that leaves her buzzing, that imagines her with him in a time in which he’d open his heart. A time that never happened.

“I can make it happen, then.” She answers, because this may have not been how it should have ended, but it’s more about how it should have begun. Him and her, being distant yet close in the shape of friendship, accepting each other’s hardships, not leaving the taste of their lips on the other’s skin.

“I’d love for Sora and Taeoh to meet.” He says, and of course there needs to be one for each. One for him. One for her. Another story for both, one that did not connect with their past friend with benefit’s. After all this time…it was never about them.

It was Jooheon and her. Perhaps, there needed to be a comma there—a separation, a double-spacing spot for them to just exist at the same time, but never unite. His breaths could no longer be felt against her back while he slept by her side, much less would she get to kiss those lips again…and it haunts her, it really does, in a way that has her frowning at her own thoughts, though briefly.

She’s falling in love with someone else, and yet, she is reminiscent of all that could have been. Stories that never completed themselves, ones that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

“I’d love for him to meet you.”

Taeoh meeting Jooheon, worlds colliding, perhaps a vision for her to see how much better she had it now. Destiny knows what it is doing, but greed needs more—

Or perhaps, rejection had burned her far stronger than she ever imagined.

###

Why is it different now, if she has lived like this before?

It is not the same time she wakes up to an arm wrapped around her waist, where all the little hairs on the person’s body could poke through the shirt and bring a sense of warmth. If anything, it’s a bit sticky—or stuffy, is more of the word, whereas it would be different if she was alone, but the warmth in her chest tells her that she would not mind staying a few minutes in that position. Cutting through the windows is the light, seeking for a reaction out of her, wishing to wash away the remaining bits of the red wine that simmered in the back of her throat the more she conversed with Jooheon the previous night. Laughter growing louder, conversation growing fonder.

And maybe, this is why it was never pure and entire physical attraction with Jooheon, because there is too much to talk about—music tastes, shows, embarrassing stories, so on and so forth, pushing her closer, but still holding onto that one delicate hand that rests on her knee. Taeoh was present, so was the woman with the glistening engagement ring that matches Jooheon’s, and the wine became more necessary from them on. Sleepy, she wanted to feel, like it’d take a flutter of her lips to go off dreamland and make shapes of the man she loves: Taeoh, to not live this reality that always asks her for more.

Her perfectionism must have gotten the best of her, shaped her to be hurt when she was not the type of person Jooheon would have settled down with, but that is far away from her brain when she feels a pair of lips pressed to her nape. Different from Jooheon’s—thinner, making her open her eyes to watch the organized room. Had the former man been there, there would be clothes scattered somewhere or his phone blinking from the bedside table, but silence fills the cold room, her freezing nose resting against the covers, smelling the scent of Taeoh, like that one orange-based soap he uses during his showers before every night of sleep.

When she was younger, much younger than today, a first choice was never what she had considered herself to be. Experimentation had been there, in shapes of people who kissed her and told, or simply dismissed her as someone monotone. At the time, she promised herself she’d work her hardest to earn the heart of the person she loved—that even silently, she’d always reach for them and have them as hers.

The thing is…love shouldn’t be about fighting. Love is based in promises, in sweet nature, in feeling content even through every hardship, to want the other to belong and improve, to simply coexist—even sometimes, silently.

Deep in her soul, she probably wants to reach for what is most known: to be someone’s second option, to never be good enough. Her eyes suddenly feel weightier when her fingers graze the skin of Taeoh’s tattooed arm, wrapped around her with such tenderness, bringing her closer until he can fully feel the expanse of her. This man is an exception, like he truly loves her, enough to put his art on her body but also to make art out of her, her heart liberated from that sense of insecurity that always has littered beneath her.

Never good enough.

Never the first choice.

But she’s on the way to believing that she may be Taeoh’s.

The man breathes deeply, grasping at the side of her body when he says: “When were you going to tell me you had something with Jooheon?”

Her body stiffens, eyes staring at the city outside the curtains, this same position once held with another man—and she’d never be able to forget the man that clouded her brain with so much irresponsibility that she felt free. Though, nothing was more freeing than finding peace with the pieces of her that linger in her thoughts. All feelings are valid, whether they are saddening or angering. “I—I—Uh, I—”

“He looks at you certain way, you know?” Taeoh asks, turning around until his arm slips away from her, extending his own behind his head to support the weight of it. “Like, I don’t know how to explain it. It reminds me a bit of when I go back to my hometown.”

She turns around at that, not knowing what to say, instead tracing the outlines of his face when his eyes flutter close. “Taeoh, I—”

His brown eyes settle upon her, the slit on top of his eyebrow touched by her fingertips, finally looking back at her. “Whenever I go back…I know I’ll leave again,” He says. “But I try to cling onto it as much as I can. I try to make myself believe that there will always be somewhere better, but there is no place like home. I feel like…I’ll fall back there one day, probably in the far future, because you can never be too far away from home.”

Could she ever be too far away from Jooheon? Love may not last, but it also may not exist. Proven by Taeoh, though, there seems to be something—something that she has never gotten to know in her life, and she plans to discover it. “We didn’t have anything special,” She tries to convince herself, reminiscent of the times her heart felt as if it did not belong to her when around him. Isn’t that love? “Well, it was more of an agreement.” She breathes out, resting her cold nose against his neck, trying to hide her face and press a fleeting kiss to the skin. “If I got my heart broken, I’d try to find comfort in having sex with him. If his did, it’d be the same thing. We were ignorant…” She replies, pulling away until she grasps Taeoh’s face in between her hands, looking into his eyes. “And no matter what happened then, I can tell you one thing.”

“What happened? You said you didn’t have anything special.” Taeoh no longer keeps a comfortable distance, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, eyes pleading for her to love him.

She could be content with loneliness.

She could be content with Jooheon, if he was hers.

She could have had a million stories to tell, but none that felt as fitting as Taeoh—none that could be as loving as him.

Flowers may come with thorns, specially roses, but this is the last time she fears prickling herself. Honesty may lead him closer to her, all roads steps into their forever. Or perhaps, a love that could last as long as it needs to. “I…felt connected to him, I don’t think he did. I’d say it was infatuation, it all came crashing down on him when we had a pregnancy scare.” She confesses, voice soft to let out that one secret that had been captured in between Jooheon and herself. “…I’m not perfect, I can tell you that much, but I am certain that whoever was part of my past cannot compare to you.” She mumbles, pulling away to look into his eyes, watching the uncertainty in them. “P—Please, trust me…”

Taeoh takes her by the neck at that point, kissing her with the fervor that he lacks—almost powerless, he mumbles: “I want to trust you.”

“You want to or you will?” She ponders, lips captured into another kiss when, once again, she is proven just how much he cares about her.

“I will.”

###

The letters blink back at her, gray background and black ink fastening the headlines of the newspaper into her brain. Just like all those times before, the smell of coffee lingers in the air, the door to Jooheon’s and hers shared office right in front of her eyes. Many years of memories—some alone, some accompanied, all blend into nostalgia.

People cling to nostalgia for some damned reason. It is as though in fear of living the future, we cling to the past. We look for excuses, for a push, for that one grain of insecurity that keeps us tied to the floor. For some reason, the paper in between her other hand is sufficient proof of the out-and-out fear that beholds her body. It owns her, it always has, because settling for this company—though, excellent at the beginning, now simply falling into normality—had seemed like what she needed to do. Being chosen, for once, had always been the brightest moment of her life.

For some time now, a month even, she has built the possibilities of the past—crafted the memories back to realize that, in her own way, part of her personality had been shaped in fear. Of being judged. Of speaking up. Of being anything but a hundred percent invisible. Reason as to why she has kept the same job for years. Another reason as to why desiring Jooheon was an impossibility for her—until, he was truly an unreachable person and it broke her. The hopes she had were crushed by her fear of rejection, of being loud and confident.

This is not the part in which she changes herself, but it is the part in which she improves.

The newspaper almost slips out from her fingertips when she enters the office, Jooheon’s back resting against his seat, legs propped up on top of his desk, inspecting the folders that she had left for him to revise the previous day. The coffee is ready and by his side, there is a single cup for her to drink from. He knows she’ll always be there on time, but he doesn’t know her change of mind, much less does he expect to look up at her and see her in a different attire after years.

His smile widens, and it would be a lie for her to say that, after all those years, Jooheon does not do wonders to her soul. That, in a way, she’ll always be fond of the depth of his grin and that look that he throws her way that shows appreciation. Maybe, she should have known the difference between that and love.

This time around, her tattoo is on full display—small, tiny, but she doesn’t cover it. Doesn’t cover herself up anymore. Her blazer is long forgotten, the elegant and posh thin strapped shirt serving her as coverage for today, paired with loose and straight pants, perfect for her last day at the job.

“Morning,” Jooheon says, eyes scanning her body before the twinkle with happiness. “First time I see you wearing something different for the office.”

“Mhm,” She hums, shrugging her shoulders as she slides the piece of paper in between her hands on top of Jooheon’s desk. “I thought I had to leave this place and close this period of my life with something different.”

Almost in a rush, Jooheon sits up, the folders falling on the floor obnoxiously, papers messily scrambled when he takes her resignation letter in between shaky fingers. His beam disappears, eyes scanning the printed words before speaking out: “W—Why? No, you can’t leave.”

And he looks at her as if he’s pleading, begging, as if for one last time he wants to take her heart in between his hands and play with it to his will, like an instrument that plays beauty for him, but rakes in sadness for her. A tune that they will never get to match to. “Taeoh and I have been thinking about moving to his hometown to live together for the past month and so…” After the realization of importance entered her brain as knowledge. Who is important for her? Herself—and Taeoh, too, the only man that had heard her speak; had loved her silence, but had loved her voice even more. “I got accepted. Here’s my resignation letter.”

Jooheon blinks softly, thinks for a moment before throwing his head back. His gaze is blank, looking up at the ceiling as if there is a land far-away in there. His train of thought is loud, even when in silence. “You’re leaving?” He asks, a whine to his tone when she nods her head.

“Yes.”

“What about all those years together?”

As coworkers, he should clarify, but when he looks at her once again, she thinks he may be talking about something else. “I—I’ll cherish them.”

“And what about me?”

“I’ll remember you.”

But if she had to choose, she’d turn back time. If she had a choice, she’d be louder about her words—try to get him and clear her head of any lingering questions with the enigma that is Jooheon. Had she fixed his broken heart for him to love someone else? Probably, and he must have done the same for her, this is further shown when Jooheon stands up from his seat rather quickly, letting the resignation letter rest on the desk when he opens his arms widely.

“Give me one last hug to remember, too, then.”

Her movements are quick when she finds herself in his arms again, hands sprawled around his waist, arms tugging him harsher against her body, as if to breathe at the same tempo as him and turn back time to the first time she held him. She’d want to tell her past self to never get to know him, to never cross that line of professionalism, and maybe this wouldn’t have been the ending for the wildest ride of her life. Instead, however, she gets to feel his breath fanning on top of her shoulder, that one that has the tattoo made by Taeoh.

The person she is today may not be perfect, but it learned something from the mistakes she made with Jooheon. If he hurt her, he did it at the hands of life, destiny knowing what it is doing.

But she’ll leave him with one last heartbreak, one last memory of who they are today—two lines that never connected, two worlds that collided and created a explosion instead.

Two hearts that had played a game together, and didn’t win.

#jooheon scenarios #monsta x scenarios #jooheon #monsta x #kpop scenarios #writing #jooheon au #jooheon angst #jooheon fluff #monsta x au #monsta x angst #monsta x fluff #the anti-love club #office worker!au #unrequited love!au

[bakug0stw1nk]

Hello, everyone! This is the LONGEST TEXT EVER! I was inspired by the various other "longest texts ever" on the internet, and I wanted to make my own. So here it is! This is going to be a WORLD RECORD! This is actually my third attempt at doing this. The first time, I didn't save it. The second time, the Neocities editor crashed. Now I'm writing this in Notepad, then copying it into the Neocities editor instead of typing it directly in the Neocities editor to avoid crashing. It sucks that my past two attempts are gone now. Those actually got pretty long. Not the longest, but still pretty long. I hope this one won't get lost somehow. Anyways, let's talk about WAFFLES! I like waffles. Waffles are cool. Waffles is a funny word. There's a Teen Titans Go episode called "Waffles" where the word "Waffles" is said a hundred-something times. It's pretty annoying. There's also a Teen Titans Go episode about Pig Latin. Don't know what Pig Latin is? It's a language where you take all the consonants before the first vowel, move them to the end, and add '-ay' to the end. If the word begins with a vowel, you just add '-way' to the end. For example, "Waffles" becomes "Afflesway". I've been speaking Pig Latin fluently since the fourth grade, so it surprised me when I saw the episode for the first time. I speak Pig Latin with my sister sometimes. It's pretty fun. I like speaking it in public so that everyone around us gets confused. That's never actually happened before, but if it ever does, 'twill be pretty funny. By the way, "'twill" is a word I invented recently, and it's a contraction of "it will". I really hope it gains popularity in the near future, because "'twill" is WAY more fun than saying "it'll". "It'll" is too boring. Nobody likes boring. This is nowhere near being the longest text ever, but eventually it will be! I might still be writing this a decade later, who knows? But right now, it's not very long. But I'll just keep writing until it is the longest! Have you ever heard the song "Dau Dau" by Awesome Scampis? It's an amazing song. Look it up on YouTube! I play that song all the time around my sister! It drives her crazy, and I love it. Another way I like driving my sister crazy is by speaking my own made up language to her. She hates the languages I make! The only language that we both speak besides English is Pig Latin. I think you already knew that. Whatever. I think I'm gonna go for now. Bye! Hi, I'm back now. I'm gonna contribute more to this soon-to-be giant wall of text. I just realised I have a giant stuffed frog on my bed. I forgot his name. I'm pretty sure it was something stupid though. I think it was "FROG" in Morse Code or something. Morse Code is cool. I know a bit of it, but I'm not very good at it. I'm also not very good at French. I barely know anything in French, and my pronunciation probably sucks. But I'm learning it, at least. I'm also learning Esperanto. It's this language that was made up by some guy a long time ago to be the "universal language". A lot of people speak it. I am such a language nerd. Half of this text is probably gonna be about languages. But hey, as long as it's long! Ha, get it? As LONG as it's LONG? I'm so funny, right? No, I'm not. I should probably get some sleep. Goodnight! Hello, I'm back again. I basically have only two interests nowadays: languages and furries. What? Oh, sorry, I thought you knew I was a furry. Haha, oops. Anyway, yeah, I'm a furry, but since I'm a young furry, I can't really do as much as I would like to do in the fandom. When I'm older, I would like to have a fursuit, go to furry conventions, all that stuff. But for now I can only dream of that. Sorry you had to deal with me talking about furries, but I'm honestly very desperate for this to be the longest text ever. Last night I was watching nothing but fursuit unboxings. I think I need help. This one time, me and my mom were going to go to a furry Christmas party, but we didn't end up going because of the fact that there was alcohol on the premises, and that she didn't wanna have to be a mom dragging her son through a crowd of furries. Both of those reasons were understandable. Okay, hopefully I won't have to talk about furries anymore. I don't care if you're a furry reading this right now, I just don't wanna have to torture everyone else. I will no longer say the F word throughout the rest of this entire text. Of course, by the F word, I mean the one that I just used six times, not the one that you're probably thinking of which I have not used throughout this entire text. I just realised that next year will be 2020. That's crazy! It just feels so futuristic! It's also crazy that the 2010s decade is almost over. That decade brought be a lot of memories. In fact, it brought be almost all of my memories. It'll be sad to see it go. I'm gonna work on a series of video lessons for Toki Pona. I'll expain what Toki Pona is after I come back. Bye! 'm back now, and I decided not to do it on Toki Pona, since many other people have done Toki Pona video lessons already. I decided to do it on Viesa, my English code. Now, I shall explain what Toki Pona is. Toki Pona is a minimalist constructed language that has only ~120 words! That means you can learn it very quickly. I reccomend you learn it! It's pretty fun and easy! Anyway, yeah, I might finish my video about Viesa later. But for now, I'm gonna add more to this giant wall of text, because I want it to be the longest! It would be pretty cool to have a world record for the longest text ever. Not sure how famous I'll get from it, but it'll be cool nonetheless. Nonetheless. That's an interesting word. It's a combination of three entire words. That's pretty neat. Also, remember when I said that I said the F word six times throughout this text? I actually messed up there. I actually said it ten times (including the plural form). I'm such a liar! I struggled to spell the word "liar" there. I tried spelling it "lyer", then "lier". Then I remembered that it's "liar". At least I'm better at spelling than my sister. She's younger than me, so I guess it's understandable. "Understandable" is a pretty long word. Hey, I wonder what the most common word I've used so far in this text is. I checked, and appearantly it's "I", with 59 uses! The word "I" makes up 5% of the words this text! I would've thought "the" would be the most common, but "the" is only the second most used word, with 43 uses. "It" is the third most common, followed by "a" and "to". Congrats to those five words! If you're wondering what the least common word is, well, it's actually a tie between a bunch of words that are only used once, and I don't wanna have to list them all here. Remember when I talked about waffles near the beginning of this text? Well, I just put some waffles in the toaster, and I got reminded of the very beginnings of this longest text ever. Okay, that was literally yesterday, but I don't care. You can't see me right now, but I'm typing with my nose! Okay, I was not able to type the exclamation point with just my nose. I had to use my finger. But still, I typed all of that sentence with my nose! I'm not typing with my nose right now, because it takes too long, and I wanna get this text as long as possible quickly. I'm gonna take a break for now! Bye! Hi, I'm back again. My sister is beside me, watching me write in this endless wall of text. My sister has a new thing where she just says the word "poop" nonstop. I don't really like it. She also eats her own boogers. I'm not joking. She's gross like that. Also, remember when I said I put waffles in the toaster? Well, I forgot about those and I only ate them just now. Now my sister is just saying random numbers. Now she's saying that they're not random, they're the numbers being displayed on the microwave. Still, I don't know why she's doing that. Now she's making annoying clicking noises. Now she's saying that she's gonna watch Friends on three different devices. Why!?!?! Hi its me his sister. I'd like to say that all of that is not true. Max wants to make his own video but i wont let him because i need my phone for my alarm.POOP POOP POOP POOP LOL IM FUNNY. kjnbhhisdnhidfhdfhjsdjksdnjhdfhdfghdfghdfbhdfbcbhnidjsduhchyduhyduhdhcduhduhdcdhcdhjdnjdnhjsdjxnj Hey, I'm back. Sorry about my sister. I had to seize control of the LTE from her because she was doing keymash. Keymash is just effortless. She just went back to school. She comes home from school for her lunch break. I think I'm gonna go again. Bye! Hello, I'm back. Let's compare LTE's. This one is only 8593 characters long so far. Kenneth Iman's LTE is 21425 characters long. The Flaming-Chicken LTE (the original) is a whopping 203941 characters long! I think I'll be able to surpass Kenneth Iman's not long from now. But my goal is to surpass the Flaming-Chicken LTE. Actually, I just figured out that there's an LTE longer than the Flaming-Chicken LTE. It's Hermnerps LTE, which is only slightly longer than the Flaming-Chicken LTE, at 230634 characters. My goal is to surpass THAT. Then I'll be the world record holder, I think. But I'll still be writing this even after I achieve the world record, of course. One time, I printed an entire copy of the Bee Movie script for no reason. I heard someone else say they had three copies of the Bee Movie script in their backpack, and I got inspired. But I only made one copy because I didn't want to waste THAT much paper. I still wasted quite a bit of paper, though. Now I wanna see how this LTE compares to the Bee Movie script. Okay, I checked, and the Bee Movie script is 50753 characters long. Not as long as some of the LTEs I mentioned, but still longer than mine and Kenneth Iman's combined. This LTE is getting close to 10000 characters! That means it'll be half the length of Kenneth Iman's LTE. That's pretty exciting. Also, going back to the topic of the Bee Movie Script, I tried to write the entire thing out by hand once. But I never finished it, especially since I'm focusing on this thing now. Maybe I should write this LTE out by hand. Nah, I don't think I will. Yay, we're at 10000 characters! Let's celebrate by talking about MUSIC! Music is cool. That concludes our celebratory discussion about music. Thank you, and have a good rest of your day. Hi, I'm back now, and I got a book! It's a dictionary for a language called Elefen. It's like Esperanto, but better. Now I can learn Elefen even without internet! That's pretty cool. I will now write something in Elefen. See if you can understand it! Here goes: Si tu pote leje esta, tu es merveliosa! Elefen es un lingua multe fresca! Did you understand that? Maybe you can't speak Elefen, but you still understood that because of your knowledge of other languages. Elefen is cool because it's an actual language, not an English code like Pig Latin or Viesa. Oh, I forgot to mention that my sister is back from school. She's blasting Rhett and Link songs right now. Have you seen that picture of Rhett and Link standing with a bunch of *******? Sorry, I almost said the F word there. That would've broken my rule of not saying the F word. I wrote something in Elefen, so I will also write something in Toki Pona. See if you can understand it now! sina sona e toki mi la sina pona mute a! I can speak Toki Pona fluently, by the way. It's also a pretty cool language. My sister is still playing annoying songs. It's hindering my focus right now. But it's fiiiiine. Okay, luckily she's run out of songs to play. At least for now. She's trying to think of another annoying song to play. Now she's playing a song by Green Day. Not NEARLY as bad as the other songs she just played. I should go for now. Goodbye! Hello, I'm back once again. I don't know why I feel obligated to say that every time I come back. But I'll keep doing it anyway. My sister stopped blasting annoying songs, so that's good. She's cooking something in the microwave. I'll go check to see what it is right now. Nevermind, it's already done cooking. Right, I remember! It's mac and cheese! Now she just started singing "I have a tongue, you don't, because I cut it off yesterday". I don't know what goes on in her mind when she does stuff like that. I've been messing around with my Elefen dictionary for a while, looking up whatever random words I can think of. By the way, the whole reason I'm doing this longest text ever is because of pointlesssites.com. That's how I found the Flaming-Chicken LTE, which inspired me to start writing this LTE. So thanks, pointlesssites.com! I check that website every day to see what new pointless websites they add. You know, I could double every letter I type so that this text would be twice as long as it normally would be. But nah, that's kinda cheating. So I won't. Also, SUBSCRIBE TO PEWDIEPIE! There, I did my part. Not that anyone will read this, but still. 'Twould be nice if you subscribed to PewDiePie. That's another word I invented. Actually, I looked it up, and I didn't invent it. Someone came up with it before I did. That's pretty sad. Also, LEARN VIESA TODAY! IT WILL CURE YOUR DEPRESSION! Seriously though, learn Viesa. It won't actually cure your depression, but I'm desperate for speakers. I only have one other person to speak it with. I should go now. Goodbye. Hi, I’m back. I just came up with an idea: SIMPLIFIED ENGLISH! Or, in Simplified Engish: Simifid Enis. It’s where every group of consonant letters is reduced to the first consonant in that group of consonants, and same goes with the vowels. If a word ends up being just a single consonant with no vowel, put ‘a’ at the end. So “I like eating my waffles” becomes “I like etin ma wafes”. Isn’t it the most amazing thing ever? Nah, it’s not quite as amazing as Viesa. Actually, Viesa isn’t a real language, so it’s less amazing then Elefen and Toki Pona, both of which are cool languages. I kinda figured that half of this text would be about languages. Oh well. I just really want this to be the longest text ever, without using copy and paste, keymash, etc. If you remember, my sister did a little bit of keymash in this text a while ago. I would’ve deleted it, but nah, I didn’t feel like it. And besides, it’s not like it took up half this text. I have an estimate for how long it’ll take me to be the world record holder: about one month. I think I can manage one month of writing this. You know what? I’m just gonna break my rule of not saying the word “furry”. There, I said it. Now I’m allowing myself to write “furry” whenever I want. So with that out of the way, let’s talk about how I first became a furry. For some reason, I have the exact date when I became a furry memorized. It’s May 4, 2018. At that time, I discovered that I was a furry by watching some furry YouTube videos. I knew about the existence of furries years before this, but I didn’t know much about it until this time. I said to myself, “You know what? I’m a furry now,” and that’s what started it all. And I’ve been slowly learning more about the fandom ever since. I would like to participate more in the fandom when I’m older, but I’m too young for most of it right now. Guess I’ll just have to wait. But in the meantime, I can write about it in this text. I should sleep now. Goodnight. Hello, I'm back once again. Happy Pi Day! I memorized a bunch of digits of Pi once, not sure how many I still remember... I have literally nothing to write about now. I've been trying to come up with something for the past 10 minutes, and I still have no idea. Literally nothing is happening right now. It's pretty boring. My sister is watching Friends, as usual. Okay, since there's nothing for me to write about, I should go now. Bye! Wow, it has been a while since I last added to this. It is now July 10, 2019. Last time I edited this page was Pi Day, which was March 14. Those 4 months of this thing being untouched end today! Wait... 4 months? That means I was supposed to get this past the world record three months ago. Oh well. I have put many things into this text. A lot of them were cringy, like how I keep mentioning furry-related things. You know, I should stop putting things in here when I know I'm gonna cringe at them later. I'll try not to do that from here on out. I just know I'll fail though. I'd hate to be aware of someone reading this entire thing... like, if I had to sit and watch a family member or something read this entire text, I would cringe so hard. I would not want that to happen. I am currently pasting the entirety of the FlamingChicken LTE onto a page on OurWorldOfText. The frustrating thing about pasting stuff there is that it pastes one letter at a time, so it takes forever to paste long text. And when the tab isn't open, I'm pretty sure it just stops pasting, so you have to keep the tab open if you want it to continue. Why am I even doing this? No idea. I might not even paste the whole thing. I probably won't. Hey, I just had a thought. What if, in the future, students are reading this for a class assignment? What if this LTE becomes part of the school curriculum? If so, hi future student! I hope you're enjoying reading my CRINGE. What is my life coming to? That's enough writing for now. Goodbye. Hey again. Might as well continue writing in here for a bit. Hey, have you ever heard of 3D Movie Maker? It's a program from the 90s (that still works on modern computers) where you can make 3D animated movies. It's pretty cool. I've made a few movies with it myself, and many other people use it to make interesting stuff. In case you want to try it for yourself, I'm sure if you google "3dmm download" or something like that, it will take you somewhere where you can download the program. It's kinda aimed at younger children, but hopefully that doesn't stop you from making absolute masterpieces with this program. I have a keyboard in my room (the musical kind, not the one you type words on), and I don't really know how to play it properly, but I do it anyways. I can play a few songs on the piano (albeit with weird fingering because like I just said, I have no idea what I'm doing), including HOME - Resonance and PilotRedSun - Bodybuilder. You might not know one or both of those songs. If you don't know one of them, why not google it? You will have discovered some new music, and it will all be because of me. Why are you reading this, anyways? How did you even find it? Were you like me, and you were browsing pointlesssites.com, eventually finding the FlamingChicken LTE and going down a rabbit hole of discovering random LTEs? Literally the only reason I'm writing this right now is because that happened. I just discovered a new LTE: the RainbowFluffySheep LTE. I'm gonna see how many characters long it is. 75,957 characters. Pretty long, but not as long as the top two LTEs (FlamingChicken and Hermnerps, both with around 200,000 characters). I wanna write as much as possible into this text today. I'm gonna see how much LTE-writing I can do in one day. Hopefully it's a lot, because I wanna hold a world record! Imagine having a world record. Well, would it really be a world record? Because I don't know of any world record books that have "Longest Text Ever" as a record. Oh well, I just hope this LTE passes exactly 230,634 characters. That's all my goal is. I'm not even a tenth of the way there yet, but give it a month and I'm sure I'll get there. Hey, remember last time I said it would only take a month? That was four months ago. I should just stop promising things all together at this point. Forget I said anything about that. Did you know my sister has an LTE? That's right! It's not very long, though, and you can't read it because it's on her phone. She made it while bored at the library. That library was where I used to have web design classes. Those were fun, but I don't do them anymore. Now all I do it sit at home and write stuff in here. Well, I'm exaggerating. I go to the convenience store with my sister sometimes. But that's pretty much it outside of being bored on a computer. I should be a less boring human being. One day, I should translate this entire LTE into Viesa. That would be a big waste of time, even bigger than writing the LTE itself. But I could still do it. I don't think I ever will. This text is simply too long, and it'll be even longer than that by the time I pass 230,634 characters. By the way, if you think I'm gonna stop writing this once I pass 230,634 characters, you're wrong! Because I'll keep writing this even after I pass that point. It'll feel nice to be way ahead the record. My sister's alarm clock has been going off for half an hour and I haven't turned it off. Why? Because LAZYNESS! Actually, I really should turn it off now. There, I turned it off. First when I tried to turn it off, it started playing the radio. Then I tried again, and it turned off completely. Then I hurt myself on the door while walking out. So that was quite the adventure. I'm gonna go sleep now. Goodnight! Hey, I'm back again. My computer BSOD'd while writing this, so I have to start this section over again. That's why you save your work, kids! Before I had to start over again, I was talking about languages. Yes, I decided to bring that topic back after a while. But I no longer want to talk about it. Why? Because it'll probably bore you to death. That is assuming you're reading this at all. Who knows, maybe absolutely zero people will read this within the span of the universe's existence. But I doubt that. There's gotta be someone who'll find this text and dedicate their time to reading it, even if it takes thousands of years for that to happen. What will happen to this LTE in a thousand years? Will the entire internet dissapear within that time? In that case, will this text dissapear with it? Or will it, along with the rest of what used to be the internet, be preserved somewhere? I'm thinking out loud right now. Well, not really "out loud" because I'm typing this, and you can't technically be loud through text. THE CLOSEST THING IS TYPING IN ALL CAPS. Imagine if I typed this entire text like that. That would be painful. I decided to actually save my work this time, in case of another crash. I already had my two past attempts at an LTE vanish from existance. I mean, most of this LTE is already stored on Neocities, so I probably won't need to worry about anything. I think I might change the LTE page a little. I want the actual text area to be larger. I'm gonna make it a very basic HTML page with just a header and text. Maybe with some CSS coloring. I don't know. Screw it, I'm gonna do it. There, now the text area is larger. It really does show how small this LTE is so far compared to FlamingChicken or Hermnerps. But at least I made the background a nice Alice Blue. That's the name of the CSS color I used. It's pretty light. We're getting pretty close to the 1/10 mark! That's the point where we're one tenth of the way to making this the longest text ever, meaning all I have to do is write the equivalent of everything I've already written so far nine more times! Not gonna make any promises, though. How come every time I try to type "though", it comes out as "thought"? Why do I always type the extra T? It's so annoying that I have to delete the T every time. Okay, only mildly annoying. Not as annoying as I previously described. I apologize for my exaggeration of the annoyance level of me typing "thought" instead of "though". I just realized that most of the games I play are games that I've been playing for at least six years. I started playing Garry's Mod in 2013, Minecraft in whatever year version 1.2.3 came out. Now I have to look that up. March 2, 2012. So I started playing Minecraft approximately during that time. Wow, seven years ago! Coincidentally, I was also seven years old then. I remember the days of 2012-13. That was when I still played Roblox and made terrible YouTube videos. I was called "Infinite Budgets" back then. I also remember the days of 2016. A lot of people thought that was a terrible year, but for me personally, it brings me a lot of nostalgia because I talked a lot with my online friend at the time, and I did livestreams on YouTube and stuff. It was fun. 2016 was also when I got the phone that I still have to this day. Yup, my phone is three years old. My life was completely different when I got this phone: I was 11 years old, my YouTube channel actually had activity, and I wasn’t writing this text. I’m currently writing this in the car. We are on out way to the dollar store. And since I’m writing this on my phone, I’m making a lot more typos than usual. Some of them might make it through, so be prepared for that. Anyways, we appear to be getting close to the dollar store. I have a gift card for that place. I think so anyways, it might be for a different store... Yup, this dollar store is different. Oh well. My sister has an obsession with sponges. I’m sure she’s gonna find the sponges and go crazy over them. Why does she like sponges so much? No idea. She just found a bag of tiny baby dolls, and she wants to put them in ice cubes and call it “Ice Ice Baby”. She is truly a strange human being. My sister also has an obsession with stuffies. She has such an addiction, that she’s banned from them. Now she found the wigs and she’s considering buying one. She’s been looking at them for quite a while now. We’re out of the dollar store, and now we’re going to the computer store. I have no idea why we’re here. I guess we just are. Now we’re going home. Welp, that was a fun adventure. Stay tuned for more fun adventures as you read through this LTE. I should go now. Bye! Hello again. I made a private world on OurWorldOfText for my sister and I, but she doesn't want to join it. She doesn't think it'll be fun. Now I'm just editing it alone. How sad. But oh well. Now I’m here adding more to this text. I once made a Discord server specifically for a language called “Bo”, where the only word is “bo”. I made it almost four months ago, and somehow, it’s still going. People are still spamming nothing but “bo” there. It’s great. I also once made a server where you’re not allowed to use any vowels. It was a very strange server. I deleted it after some time though, so all that insanity is no more. I also used to own a Pig Latin server, but it got inactive so I deleted that too. We had some good memories in that server though. Now there’s a new Pig Latin server, but it’s not owned by me. Dang, my YouTube channel has been dead for so long. I haven’t posted a video in a year. I want to revive it, but I don’t know what to post there. I’ll figure it out. I doubt my channel will ever go back to it’s 2016 legacy, but I’m sure I’ll post something eventually. Random fact of the day: there are thirty-nine question marks so far in this text. Am I about to make it forty? Yes, I just did. Now the fact I initially stated is no longer true. Or is it? Because I said “so far” in the fact, that implies that we’re talking about the moment that fact was said, disregarding any future events. Now I’m pretty sure that fact is still technically true. Welp, I guess I should just accept that I’m editing that world of text alone for the rest of my life. I originally put a bunch of complaining in there, but I deleted it all. The thing is, now that world will never be same without all of that complaining about my sister not being here. But that’s fine. Hey, I just had a cool realization. Basically, there’s this conlang (constructed language, for those not in the know) server where we have a Sentence of the Week activity. In this activity, someone posts a text with a maximum of nine sentences, then people translate it into their own conlangs. My realization is this: if we take nine sentences from this LTE every week, there would be a whole year of sentences for people to translate. There are approximantly 523 sentences in this LTE. Divide that by 9 sentences each week, and you get 58 weeks worth of sentences, which is approximantly the number of weeks in a year. Quick maths. I actually suck at math, but that’s besides the point. I should go now. Goodbye! Hello, I’m back again. I really need to come up with different hello and goodbye messages, because I’ve already said “Hello, I’m back again” once before. Same with the “I should go now. Goodbye!” I said at the end of the previous section. I was going to explain what a “section” is, but I’m terrible at explaining things, so I’m not going to anymore. I guess you’ll just have to figure it out yourself. It’s probably not very hard to figure out, anyways. I guess I can just say that a section starts with me saying hello, and ends with me saying goodbye. That should be enough explaination, now that I think about it. Hey, do you ever feel like you never have any idea what you’re talking about? That’s my entire life. I just summarized it all in one sentence. On an unrelated note, I feel like half this LTE is just me talking about the LTE itself. I mean, press CTRL+F on this webpage, then type “LTE”. Look at all the times I use it in this text! Not counting the ‘lte’ in the word ‘multe’, of course. Dang, now the search results will include that, too. Anyways, half of this text is just me talking about how I’m trying to get this text to be the longest. Well, the longest LTE, anyways. I still have a long way to go. I’m only 12.7% of the way there. I mean, minus the four month gap, my estimation is that I’ve only been writing this for not even two weeks. So it makes sense that this LTE isn’t very long yet. Whenever I look at this webpage, it looks long at first glance, but the longer I look at it, the more I realize how short it actually is. It’s something that I can’t explain. For real this time. I just realized that none of this is helping the fact that half this LTE is about the LTE itself. I should bring up a new topic, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about much else. Why? Because, like I said, I never have any idea what I’m talking about. Most of this LTE is just me talking about LTEs or languages. Sometimes furries, but I don’t wanna go back into that territory at this point. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m still gonna write this LTE for as long as possible, even if it means talking about the same things half the time. Also, LEARN VIESA! Haven’t said that in a while, so I might as well bring it back. The documentation for Viesa is on this very website, so go ahead and read it! You might need to know some linguistic knowledge to understand it, though. In fact, you probably won’t understand most of it unless you know some amount about lingusitics, so you have been warned. If Viesa is too much for you, Pig Latin will probably be better for you. If it's so easy that kids can learn it, you can too! It's a language you can learn in probably five minutes, so why not give it a try? You may also enjoy Ubbi Dubbi, where you place 'ub' before every vowel sound. It's also a very easy language to learn, although not quite as popular. The thing is, none of these are even real languages. They're just codes, and very simple codes at that. You could probably crask Pig Latin or Ubbi Dubbi rather easily. Viesa too, actually. But I still enjoy them occasionally, even if Pig Latin and Ubbi Dubbi are inefficient and easy to crack, and Viesa is easy to crack yet unneccesarily difficult. I do make real languages, but I never put in the effort to learn them to fluency. At least I make them at all. Here’s a fun game: I will open up a random page from a book, and tell you the first word I see. English. That’s the word. Stay tuned for more fun games as you read through this LTE. We’re back, and we’re gonna play the same game as before. Ready? Subject. Now we’re gonna do it again. Reading. And again. Itself. Constituent. Grammar. Colloquial. Black. Outline. Add. About four of those words were language related. You’ll never guess why! (Spoiler alert: it’s a conlanging book). I’m running out of ideas now. I’m just gonna generate a random word and try to talk about it. Forbid. That’s the opposite of “allow”, I’m pretty sure. I don’t really know what else to say. Well, I guess I failed at generating a topic I could talk about. You know what's weird? My favorite word hasn't been used once in this entire text. I'm about to change that forever. Epic. Yup, my favorite word is "epic". I use it on a regular basis. I say "That's epic" all the time. It's a word I can't live without. Hey, I've now written more of this text after the 4 month gap than before it! Just thought I'd share that fact. Also, I'm gonna try and write as much as possible in this LTE today. I've already written more today than the day I first said I was gonna write as much as possible, so that's a good sign. The thing is, I don't know what to write about. I need to write about something, otherwise I won't write at all and I won't accomplish my goal. Wait, what goal should I set? How many characters should I write today? I'm gonna try and get 10,000 characters. I've already written almost 5,000 today, so from here I just have to write the equivellant of everything I've already written today. I'm just gonna try it and see if I make it. Maybe sometime in the future I'll do a bigger goal, like 15,000 or even 20,000 in one day. Actually, I don't know if 20,000 would even be possible for me. It might be, but it sounds like somewhat of a stretch for me to write that much in a single day. We'll see how long 10,000 takes, though. I'm already doing a bad job at this. I haven't typed anything here in several minutes. I need a topic. Um, Vabungula, I guess? Basically, it's a conlang created by Bill Price in 1965. It amazes me how one can work on a single conlang for that long. Most of the conlangs I start making die after 15 minutes. Anyways, I really like it because... um, I don't know, actually. There's not really anything about it that's super interesting (other than how long it's existed), it's just his personal conlang. Maybe it's the amount of development that went into it. It has over 5,000 dictionary entries and several texts written in the language. I'm sure most people reading this don't care about my language related talk, but I gotta make this long. I'm desperate to reach my 10,000 character goal. I've got 4,000 to go. I just found a website that generates random art from a seed. I just put this entire text as the seed, and it generated something quite nice. I would put the picture here, but I want this LTE to be nothing but text, so I won't do that. I've been playing with this for a while now. Many of the seeds produce boring pictures, but some of them are nice. For example, I just used "e" as the seed and it produced a nice looking picture. "a" looks nice too, arguably nicer. I've been using nothing but the word "nice" to describe these pictures. Maybe it's time to get a bigger vocabulary? "b" looks, um, good? I don't have the right vocabulary for this. I also don't feel like doing every single letter, because the pictures take some time to generate. But if you want to do it for yourself, just go to random-art.org and try it out! By the way, this is another website I found through pointlesssites.com. You know, the same website that lead me to the FlamingChicken LTE, which lead me to begin writing this whole thing. But what made me discover pointlesssites.com? Vsauce mentioned it. But what made me discover Vsauce? YouTube Reccomendations, probably. But what made me discover YouTube? As far as I remember, my dad showed it to me when I was 6. So I would like to thank my dad for being the reason I started writing this. He's the one who showed me YouTube, which reccomended me Vsauce, which mentioned pointlesssites.com, which brought me to the FlamingChicken LTE, which inspired me to start my own LTE. If he had never shown me YouTube, I wouldn't be here writing this text, and you wouldn't be reading it. Well, that's probably not true, because I probably would have discovered YouTube by other means, thus leading me to Vsauce, leading me to Vsauce, leading me to pointlesssites.com, leading me to the FlamingChicken LTE, leading me to... okay, I really need to stop now. I've gone too far. But you know what I haven't gone too far with? This LTE. I don't think I even can go too far with writing this text. Unless this text gets so long that it surpasses the 1GB storage limit of Neocities. In which case, I'll need to upgrade to Supporter in order to get a 50GB storage limit. But what if the text gets so long that is surpasses that? I don't think I'll ever make it there. I mean, 50GB is about 50 trillion characters. So I think we're good. I still need to get to 10,000 by the end of today. I've got 1,500 to go. Currently watching a livestream. It's reminding me of when I used to livestream back in 2016. I still kinda miss those days. But at the same time, I was quite awkward and had zero social skills, so I'm not sure if I'd want to go back. At this point, everything I've written today is longer than what can fit on the screen at once. At least on my computer screen. It probably changes with different screen resolutions and devices. But anyways, it's pretty unusual for that much of the LTE to be written in a single day. I don't want to pressure myself into writing this much every day, though. Last time I forced myself to complete a certain amount of something every day, it was overwhelming and I ended up losing motivation, thus letting down all my fans who were anticipating the August 30th, 2016 release date. Okay, the amount of eager fans was probably a number you could count on one hand, but still. By the way, if you're wondering what this "something" was, it was GoAnimated Garbage: The Movie, which was supposed to be an hour long episode of a series I made to make fun of random GoAnimate videos. In case you're not the type of person who knows what GoAnimate is... hoo boy. Basically, it's a drag-and-drop animation website infamous for the "grounded videos" that people made with it, among other types of videos. It's this whole community that I neither can explain nor want to explain. But I had somewhat of an association with that community back in the day. On my YouTube channel, I used to make a genre of GoAnimate video known as the "OS video". Typically an OS video is where some sort of hated character within the GoAnimate community forcefully installs their operating system onto a user's computer, and the user has to deal with this OS until they eventually find a way to "destroy" it. I made five of these videos. In chronological order: Caillou OS, Boots OS, Franklin OS, Little Bill OS, and Crap OS X. Caillou OS is the most viewed video on my main channel, which is unsurprising since Caillou is pretty much THE character associated with the GoAnimate community. When I made that video, it was a big transition for my channel. The channel's name was changed from Infinite Budgets, which had been my name since 2013 when I made crappy Roblox videos, to Allisima. All of my old videos were deleted, with the exception of my "Barney Errors", which was yet another genre of GoAnimate video. Basically, a Barney error is when a user's computer/console/whatever session is interrupted by a "Barney Error", a message informing the user that Barney has been killed, and the device must not be turned off because it's an "important message". There's also a bomb that's placed in Barney's "lair", the timer for which is displayed in the error. The user gets some amount of "chances", and every time the device is turned off, the user looses a chance and the time until the bomb explodes decreases. Eventually, the user turns off the computer enough times that there are no more chances left, the bomb explodes, and some sort of punishment happens. These punishments can range from having to downgrade your operating system, to having your computer destroyed, and in extreme cases, even to death. I once made a whole channel for Barney Errors, where I made about twenty of them before quitting. After that, I eventually quit GoAnimate all together, but I still made Crap OS X, an OS video made with Powerpoint. I also made an interactive OS parody called Windows Poop Editon, again with Powerpoint. Before that, I also made one called "Atch OS" using my old Windows XP netbook. I just checked to see if my old Weebly website still exists, since there's an Atch OS download on there and I wanted to see if it dissapeared from existence or not. Appearantly it does! I'm getting so much nostalgia from this website. It's like a window into 2016, when I had fun making these videos on a regular basis. I'm way past my 10,000 character goal now. I'm kinda glad I set this goal, but again, I'm not gonna force myself to do it everyday. I think I'm gonna stop writing for today. Bye! Hey, I'm back. Yes, that hello wasn't original either, since I already said it once. Specifically, after my sister seized the LTE and started spamming. You remember that, right? I hope you read through this whole thing instead of just picking a random part (which just happened to be this part) and reading only a tiny bit. Nah, I'm just kidding. Read this text however you want to, it doesn't matter if you read this entire text from start to finish or not. I mean, I did put some cringy stuff in here, as I keep mentioning. But it's on the Internet, and since recently, on my homepage, so I know people are gonna read it. Really the only reason I'm making this is because I have a weird obsession for writing giant walls of text. Guess what? I just added translations of this LTE into various conlangs on my website! But they're all very incomplete, and I probably won't finish them ever... I mean, if I'm gonna finish any of them, 'twill probably be the Viesa translation since it's the easiest to do. Hey, 'twill's back! I remember the very beginnings of this LTE, when I first mentioned 'twill. That was 40,000 characters ago. Appearantly I'm measuring time with characters now. Hey, what's the average amount of text I write per day in this LTE? The four month gap probably significantly drops that amount. Let's see! The trouble is finding out when I started writing this LTE, because I don't know the exact date. I'm just gonna estimate that it was March 12, based on the amount of times I said goodnight before I said "Happy Pi Day". It's not a very accurate measurement, though, because sometimes I stop writing for the day without saying goodnight. But anyways, from March 12 to today, July 16, is 127 days. As of that previous sentence, there are 42,549 characters in this LTE. 42,549 characters divided by 127 days equals about 335 characters per day. That's not very much at all. To get an idea of how short that is, the first 335 characters of this LTE consist of about 64 words and 8 sentences. As I predicted, the four months of no activity had a big impact on this number. But what if we ignore the 4 month gap, which was from March 15 to July 9, I've only been working on this LTE for ten days. 42,549 characters divided by 10 days is about 4254 characters. That's much better. It might be that big because of the 12,600 characters I wrote yesterday. I said I wouldn't do it every day, but honestly, I'm feeling like doing a goal again today. I think I might even go a bit higher than yesterday. Let's do 15,000 characters! I have zero life outside of this LTE, anyways, so I think I'll make it. As long as I keep typing about random stuff for the entire day, I'll probably get past 15,000 easily. I think I'm insane. Literally all I do anymore is write this LTE. My mom is almost certainly concered for me, because I was in my room pretty much all of yesterday and my sister told her about how I'm trying to write the longest text ever. But enough about my descent into insanity for now. Let's get this LTE to over 55,000 characters today! This is probably the most meta LTE in existence. Like I've said, I talk about the LTE itself as much, if not more than anything else. By the way, if I were to write as much as I did yesterday every day, I would reach my goal in just 15 days. Now I'm tempted to do that, even though I said I wouldn't set a goal like that every day. I think I might end up doing it subconciously. I kinda wanna convince some other people I know online to start their own LTE. Wouldn't it be fun if we all had our own LTEs? They would probably all die within a day, but at least I wouldn't be the only one writing an LTE in 2019... The most recently updated LTE I've seen is the RainbowFluffySheep LTE, which I believe was last updated in late 2018. That wasn't really that long ago, but still, I don't think it's being updated anymore. Now let's do an LTE Timeline! The original FlamingChickens LTE was probably started sometime in 2004, and Hermnerps was started the same year. The FlamingChickens LTE stopped in 2005, while the Hermnerps LTE actually lived on until 2009, although edits after the end of 2004 were rather sparce. The Kenneth Iman LTE was started in 2013 and was last updated in 2015. The RainbowFluffySheep LTE both started and was last updated in March 2018. And of course, the WhileTrue LTE was started in March 2019 and is still being updated today. Wow, 15 years of LTEs! I think my LTE is the only one still being updated. It would be nice if someone else was writing their own LTE along with me. But 'twill be hard to convince other people to waste their lives writing a useless wall of text. You never know, maybe an LTE that stopped being edited years ago will come back from the dead. That seems kind of unlikely though. Very strange fact incoming. A certain word has not been used since the very beginning of this text. Ready to learn what it is? I shouldn't tell you, actually. Of course, that would ruin it. Unless you want me to ruin a really cool fact. Surely you wouldn't want that to happen. Okay, I'll just tell you, because I'm probably gonna end up using it again someday or another. The word is "various". If you search for "various" in this LTE, you'll only find it at the very beginning as well as here. And I was gonna keep this a secret, but just now I did this thing where if you take the first letter of each sentence, it spells out "VARIOUS". Kinda clever... I guess? Anyways, for those who are insane enough to be reading this entire thing from the start Wow, you have quite the dedication. My LTE isn't even the longest yet, but perhaps in the future, when it is the longest, people will be challenging themselves to read the entire thing. And maybe you're one of them! Perhaps you're reading this long after I've passed my goal, in which case you still have quite a bit to go. So I wish you luck on your Longest Text Ever reading adventure! I've been talking about LTEs all day. For the past 6,000 characters, in fact. I need to find something different to talk about. But first, I just had an idea pertaining LTEs. I should compare this LTE to the longest joke in the world! The longest joke in the world is 56,554 characters long, which is about how long I'm trying to get this LTE by the end of today. So if I reach my goal today, this text will be longer than the longest joke in the world! That's pretty cool. I would also be a quarter of the way to my goal. But let's get back to finding something different to talk about. I can't think of anything. My sister is singing a song about wanting Subway. I will never understand her. What goes through her brain that makes her decide "Yeah, I think it would be a good idea to sing about how I really want Subway"? I don't get how her brain works. She also likes eating paper. I asked her and appearantly she was perfectly okay with me writing that in here. She probably thinks nobody's ever gonna read this. But she's gonna be wrong! Eventually. Now she's asking me to write about how she likes yogurt. "Because I didn't used to", she says. She's eating mango yogurt, and she has water in a Gatorade bottle. Now I'm asking her what else I should put in this text. She says I should write about how there's wild sage where we live. Now she's having hot chocolate. She didn't ask me to write that, but I told her I was going to write it and she said okay. My sister might start her own Longest Text Ever, again. She says it will have only one word repeated throughout the entire text. But I told her that it defeats the purpose of an LTE. In the original FlamingChickens LTE, one of the very first things that is written is "I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste". Okay, I just made a webpage for her LTE (it's gonna be an actual LTE this time). Stay tuned for "The Best Longest Text Ever", as she calls it. I think it should have just been called "KKs Longest Text Ever" or something, but whatever. She types really slow, but I hope her LTE will be successful nonetheless. Warning: if you do go and read her LTE, she spoils Spiderman: Far From Home at the very beginning, so be careful about that. In fact, she's basically typing the entire plot of the movie. Well, that's one way to increase your LTE's length, I guess. My sister is listening to her terrible songs instead of writing her LTE. Well, she has her LTE page open, but she's not writing anything and is singing instead. Actually, she's writing stuff now, so ignore everything I said previously. She's still writing the entire plot. Her LTE is now 2,000 characters, which isn't very long, but she's only been working on it for an hour. Plus she's a slow typer. She types everything with one hand. It might take a while for her LTE to get to this level. But assuming she keeps writing it and doesn't forget about it after today, it'll get pretty long eventually. I still need to write 7,000 characters today. My sister is watching a cringy video made by our old elementary school. They became a French immersion school after I left. She found one of the videos I was in... oh god, I can't stand to look at that video. It hurts me to think about those days. My sister's LTE webpage has text now! Maybe I should create a page linking to all the LTEs I know about. I think I'll do that. Boom, it is done. I think I'm gonna also put a link to it on this page. There, that's done as well. Guys, I'm not sure if I'm gonna make it to 15,000. I still have 5,000 characters to go (I was completely off earlier, I don't have 7,000 left to go), and there's not much left of the day. In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to make a goal for the day in the first place. After all, LTE writing is supposed to be fun! Sort of. There's zero need to make unneccesary deadlines. I think it just reduces the fun, as well as the part of my life that isn't just writing huge walls of text. From here on out, I declare character-per-day goals abolished. I will no longer make attempts to write a certain amount in a single day. I should have listened to my past self, who said not to do goals every day. But I didn't, and now I regret it. But anyways, here's a fun fact about this LTE: excluding my upcoming usage, the pronoun "he" is only used twice in this LTE, and they both refer to my dad. On the other hand, the pronoun "she" is used forty times! Almost all of these refer to my sister. Only one refers to my mom. I guess I just really like talking about the weird stuff my sister does. But not as much as being meta and talking about my own LTE. Here's another fun fact: "LTE" is the fourteenth most common word in this text! That's insane. It's more common than words you'd expect to be common, like "you", "I'm", "for", "be", "about", "was", and so on. I really need to talk about other things once in a while. But since I have zero creativity, I always resort to talking about the same topics. From what I've seen, most other LTEs are pretty diverse, but mine isn't at all. Honestly, this is likely the most boring LTE to read. But my absolute lack of creativity means it's probably gonna stay that way for a long time. I'm tired, so I'm gonna go to sleep. Maybe I'll be more creative by tomorrow. Probably not. Anyways, goodnight. Hey, I'm back, and I don't feel any more creative. But I did have a dream last night, so I'm gonna talk about that. Last night, I dreamt that I was in one of our old houses, and I saw that someone made a video roasting Viesa. They talked about how you shouldn't say "dog" in Viesa, because appearantly "deeg" is bad or something? I don't know. Then they said the rule where W becomes V is weird, but I don't remember the reason they said it. I didn't really care about how they roasted my language. Then I watched a Minecraft video for whatever reason, and then the dream ended. How do other LTE writers have so many topics to talk about? All I ever talk about is either LTEs themselves, or the fact that all I ever talk about is LTEs. There's no diversity. I very rarely talk about anything else. And when I do, it's usually about languages and lasts only a few sentences. There, I deleted it. Oh, you don't have any context. Basically I wrote a bunch of depressing stuff, then I decided to delete it all. I knew I was going to regret it later, in the same way I regret writing all that stuff about furries. Not that I think there's anything wrong with being a furry, it's just that it personally makes me uncomfortable looking back on it. I'm not even into that stuff as much anymore. I don't watch furry YouTube, and I don't talk about how much I want a fursuit/go to a convention. That's a part of me that's slowly disappearing. Okay, I'm gonna stop talking about that, because I literally just said how I regret talking about it in this text. You know, I've been feeling kind of down about this LTE lately, because as I just mentioned, all I ever talk about is this LTE itself, there's no diversity, blah blah blah. It's especially been like that ever since the four month gap. In fact, I barely talked about LTEs before that gap. It's like I lost all my creativity after four months. You know what? I'm officially gonna say this: If, for some reason, you are reading this before you decide you want to start reading this entire text, READ EVERYTHING FROM "WOW, IT HAS BEEN A WHILE" TO HERE AT YOUR OWN RISK, BECAUSE YOU WILL LIKELY DIE OF BOREDOM DUE TO THE MONOTONOUS TOPICS! There, now I'm gonna try and forget that half this LTE is the same exact boring topic. I will also try to avoid writing about the same exact boring topic for the rest of this text. Let's celebrate the End of Monotonous Topics (EMT) by talking about how we (my sister and I) had lunch and did various other things with our grandpa! So grandpa asked if we wanted to have lunch and spend an afternoon with him, and we said yes. Then he picked us up, and we went to a nearby town where we had lunch, went to a museum which was a house built in 1909 as well as the town's first hospital, and got ice cream from what is appearently one of the best ice cream places in the country, according to grandpa. So today was a fun day. I'm gonna go now. Bye! Hey, I'm back. That's the fifth time I've said that. I need to come up with more original... nah, whatever. Anyways, I had a dream last night which was basically a whole movie I don't remember most of. All I remember is playing a keyboard at the store for some reason, and that the dream ended with a random car horn. Oh, and there was Minecraft involved in the beginning, which I'm pretty sure is becoming a recurring theme in my dreams. I don't know why that happened, because I rarely play Minecraft anymore. Do any of y'all remember the DVD screensaver meme? That was one of my favorite memes. For those who don't know what I'm talking about, many DVD players had this screensaver where it was a DVD logo bouncing around the screen. The big moment that everyone anticipates is when the logo hits the corner of the screen perfectly, because, well, it's just so SATISFYING! I used to watch a livestream that was literally just this screensaver running endlessly. And when it hit the corner, it was a huge celebration for both me and everyone else watching. I got so excited when the logo hit the corner. My computer's screensaver is even still a DVD screensaver. But nowadays when I see it hit the corner, I don't have as much enthusiasm as I used to. I've just seen it too many times for it to be exciting anymore. Plus, the meme isn't even a thing anymore. I doubt that livestream is even still running. But you never know, so I'm gonna check to see if it's still going. Oh wow, it is! That was the last thing I expected to see in July 2019. But only four people are watching it, which makes sense. The title now says "DVD Logo Screensaver For 1 Year", even though it hasn't quite been going on for a year. But when it hits that point, perhaps that's when it will finally end? It should have ended months ago, if you ask me. Yup, I was right. There's a countdown on the livestream to when it ends, and it says 181 days, 9 hours, 12 minutes, and 3 seconds. Wow, the corner hit and wall hit numbers are much bigger now. The most corner hits I'd seen is around 1400 or so, but now it's at 4776! The wall hits used to be in the hundred-thousands, now it's at over two and a half million! Hello, I have returned. There, I came up with something original to say! Anyways, I just combined every single LTE I know of (including this one) and put it onto one single page on a Wikia wiki called "No Rules Wiki". That wiki exactly as you would expect from the title. I found it a while ago, and I thought it was about time I made a contribution, even if pasting over half a million characters into a single article is breaking some rule... I've been wanting to make Viesa an actual conlang for so long now. I think it's long overdue at this point. Hey, I'm back again. These sections are getting shorter and shorter each day. But oh well. I just discovered how much I like the word "number". I don't know why, but it's just so fun to say! I think I've liked that word ever since I was a toddler learning my numbers! I remember thinking it was a fun word even back then. At that time I had two little electronic toys: one was orange and for numbers, and one was purple and for letters. I'm pretty sure those were the colors. I also vaguely remember having a fan that lit up and displayed custom messages. I haven't seen anything like that since then. All I hear right now is Baby Shark being blasted upstairs. You know that song, right? I don't know who doesn't know it at this point. I can't think of a single person I've seen that doesn't know what that song is. Dang, ever since the EMT I haven't been writing as much in this text. Looks like LTEs were all I could talk about. Oh well. How many times have I said "oh well"? Probably a lot. About eight times, in fact. I'm back again. I went a full day without writing anything into this LTE yesterday! There were a lot of things happening that day, so I didn't feel like writing. I could've written at least a little bit, but I didn't. Time for me to use this LTE as my dream journal yet again! I had a dream where my domain was "exin" (or something like that) instead of "whiletrue", so that was a thing. I also had a dream where there was this game that I thought existed in the real world, but it didn't. Dreams do that sometimes. I don't remember much about the game, but it involved the Simpsons, I guess? Also, I was in a weird store where they had an... iCarly laptop? And a bunch of gift cards. That's all I remember. For now, at least. My sister does not like synthwave. She says "it's repetitive", "the sounds they use don't sound like music", and she doesn't like how it doesn't have lyrics. First of all, she's hypocritical because she always listens to the same songs on repeat. And why does it matter that it doesn't have words? Why does she think every single piece of music in existence has to have words? YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR OPINIONS THERE! (That was a reference to a cringy GoAnimator that no one reading this will get, unless you came to this website from my YouTube channel which you subscribed to during my OS video days). Anyways, synthwave is objectively the best genre of music. I remember hearing HOME - Resonance for the first time in a Discord voice chat, and it was magical. I wish I could listen to that song for the first time again. That was how I got into synthwave. You know what my favorite color combination is? Yellow text on a magenta background. Oh, and don't forget the Comic Sans. That is just pure beauty right there. In fact, it's used in the first frame (well, close enough) of "history of the entire world, i guess", which makes me love that video even more. We're at 60,000 characters, 1,000 sentences, and 12,000 words! Weird how all those counts hit such round numbers in one day, huh? I need to stick to the EMT, so I should stop talking about that. My sister is attempting to build a Lego city. Her goal is to have three buildings, since she doesn't have THAT much Lego. Have you noticed how quickly I've been switching topics in this text? That's because I can't talk about anything for a long time. That is, unless that thing is languages or LTEs. I am currently trying to revive a language my sister and I started making a while back. Sometimes my sister has days when she doesn't hate languages for some reason, then she ends up starting one. But of course, she regained her hate and abandoned it. Now I'm the only one working on the language. By the way, the language is called Lazay, which was the successor to Zula, the first language we made together which is now deleted. We started writing the language on paper, but then I started a Google Doc. I'm sure the papers are still here somewhere. I'm just too lazy to find them. I’m back again. I haven’t been ending these sections with goodbyes recently. But whatever. We’re on our way to IKEA to get a dresser for my room. We’re listening to Queens of the Stone Age right now, and I’m just waiting for “Fortress” to come on. I sing that song in Viesa, but I make up half of the lyrics. It goes: Ванавар јак фиртрас кува, ма башег ђара, ја сок. Try and translate that! The song is playing now. I like this song. We’re back from IKEA now. Actually, we’ve been home for hours now, and we’ve already built the dresser. My computer crashed (but don’t worry, I started writing this in Google Docs on my phone), and now Google Chrome won’t open. So I have to use Microsoft Edge for now. I’m gonna sleep now. Goodnight! Hello, I'm back. My sister is brushing my back with a hairbrush, and I don't know why. I asked her what I should write about (because I have zero creativity), and she said I should write about that. I'm gonna type whatever comes to my head now. Hi, I'm a boring human being who has zero creativity whatsoever and still happens to be writing an LTE. Isn't that insane? How could this be? Nobody knows, and nobody will ever know. It is a strange mystery that has yet to be solved. Hmm, I wonder if I should go and eat pancakes now? I'm so random right now. In fact, there's an entire subreddit for that: r/iamsorandom. You should check it out! I mean, you don't really have to, but it would be nice if you did. I use Reddit a lot, but I only use it for language-related stuff. Well, I make posts in language-related subreddits, but the non-language subs that I look at are ones that I don't post anything to, because I know nothing about literally anything that isn't languages. And heck, I don't even know much about languages! I only make English codes and call them "conlangs". Sort of. I usually don't actually call them conlangs, but I use them for such purposes. I speak Viesa as if it were a real language, but it simply is not. Why did I make Viesa in the first place? Well, you see, it all started out as a joke for April Fools' Day. I called it "the new universal language", despite it literally being a cipher of English. What!? A cipher of English being a universal language? How silly! What a funny joke, right? Maybe? Somewhat? Anyways, I then made a SECOND VERSION! DUN DUN DUN! This second version had CLICKY SOUNDS which, spoiler alert, dissapear in the next version of Viesa. Sad, right? RIP CLICKS 2018-2018 NEVER FORGET! I also added WACKY GRAMMAR STUFF and PRONOUNS! WOAH! How crazy! Then I made the next version: VERSION 3.0! This version added CYRILLIC! (you know, that alphabet the Russians use, as well as the Serbs, whose version of the Cyrillic alphabet I stole for Viesa. Hehehe!) And that's the entire history of Viesa, explained in a Zany way! Do you like how I capitalized "Zany" there? Aren't capital letters so cool? They let you YELL AND SCREAM AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS! They add EXCITEMENT! And most of all, they let you capitalize words like This. lowercase letters are also cool. without them, we'd all be yelling and screaming all the time. That would be pretty tiring, wouldn't it? I see two water bottles. One is empty, while the other still has some water in it. The empty one is blue, and the one with the water is pink. I should also mention that the blue one is mine, while the pink one is my sister's. I got that water bottle because I lost my other one at school. But GUESS WHAT? I FOUND IT IN THE LOST AND FOUND! Wow! Now I had two water bottles. How Wacky and Crazy and Zany and Bizzare and all those adjectives that perfectly describe this epic moment! Wow, writing your mind is a great way to increase your LTEs length! Before I was actually THINKING about what I was writing. But now I barely do, and it's greatly improving my LTE! Except the overuse of capital letters might throw the reader off guard a little because of how sparingly I've used them in the past, but oh well. I could fix it, but I don't feel like it. I want to continue writing, but I need to sleep now. Goodnight! Hi, I'm back again. My computer crashed AGAIN, and I was ignorant enough to not save my work, so that means I have to start this part of the text all over again. That's quite unfortunate. But did I mention that my Google Chrome is working again? That's the good news. It's good news because Google Chrome has all my logins, websites, and stuff like that. Hopefully you know what I mean when I say that. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. I don't even know what I mean right now! I'm probably insane right now. Especially since I'm writing this right now, as I have been for about 18 days minus the four month gap... I think. I hope I did that right. As I've said before, I'm bad at math. My sister just read the entirety of what I've written today for some reason. My sister just sang "I want your computer to crash again because I'm evil". She IS evil if she wants my computer to crash. At least I'll have this section saved. In fact, right now I'm pressing Ctrl+S after every sentence! Including this one. And this one. Also this one. I think you get the point now. My sister keeps typing into this LTE without my consent, and I keep having to delete it all. It's pretty annoying. Hey, flashback to when I said that way at the beginning of this text! You know, the part where I talk about the Teen Titans Go episode called "Waffles" where the word "Waffles" is said a hundred-something times. You know what else is said a hundred something times (in this LTE)? The letter J. So far it's been used 115 times in this LTE. That's your Interesting LTE Fact of the Day! Well, not really "daily", but whatever. Here's a story: Once upon a time, people got tired of starting off their stories with "Once upon a time", so they stopped doing that. But one person decided not to stop using "Once upon a time", and used it at the beginning of this story. And that person is ME! The end. Wasn't that a lovely story? You're probably not thinking that. Again, I'm not creative in any way whatsoever. That's why I don't usually write stories and instead write giant walls of text full of meaningless information, like the one and only WhileTrue's Longest Text Ever that you're reading right now. Hopefully nobody died of boredom from reading between "Wow, it has been a while" and the EMT. That's the most boring part of the LTE! 90% of it is just me talking about LTEs themselves. How uninteresting is that? Very uninteresting. Penguins. What are they? I don't know. What am I even writing right now? I haven't a clue. Isn't it weird that I said "haven't a clue" like that? Normally "haven't" isn't used if it's alone as a verb, as in "I haven't my keys". Who says that? Nobody, that's who. And yet "I haven't a clue" is an actual thing I've heard people say. Anyways, AFRICA! That was random, but let's discuss it anyway. Africa is a well-known song by Toto. It's a good song. I can kinda sorta play it on piano? Maybe? I don't know. Another song I can play on the piano is All Star by Smash Mouth. You know, the Shrek song? Anyways, I once made a video called "All Star but it's played on a Sesame Street piano" and it got almost a million views. It's been stuck at 900,000 for what seems like forever now. I'm gonna check to see if it's at a million now. I doubt it, though. Nope, still at 926,000 views. And I doubt it's gonna get any more, to be honest. It had a good run though. My sister is chugging applesauce. She thinks she's epic because of it. I don't know anymore. I seem to keep saying that after everything I type at this point. It's strange. Hello, I have returned after yet another long absence. When was the last time I added to this? I think it was somewhere in July. So yeah, it’s been three months, as it is now October 17, 2019. The end of the decade is approaching fast. I’m a bit excited, because I’ll have significant memories from more than just one decade! My earliest significant memories started in Kindergarden, which was in 2010. This means that I only really remember one decade. But now that an entirely new decade is coming up, I’ll be able to remember another! Part of me feels like I shouldn’t be excited over this, since the boundaries between years is arbitrary, and a decade is 10 years only because we count in base 10, so if we counted in base 12 or something, a decade would be 12 years long. That was kind of a run-on sentence, but I don’t really feel like making this text perfect, anyway. Have you heard of the Library of Babel? libraryofbabel.info is a website containing every possible combination of the lowercase letters a-z, space, comma, and period. The library is divided into hexagonal chambers. Each hex contains four walls. Each wall contains three shelves. Each shelf contains 32 volumes. Each volume contains 410 pages of 3200 characters each. Everything you could ever say or write is on this website. Even this LTE! See for yourself: https://libraryofbabel.info/bookmark.cgi?lte. Okay, that’s only the first bit of it, but every other bit of this LTE is somewhere in the library! In fact, here’s the next bit: https://libraryofbabel.info/bookmark.cgi?lte:1. It’s split up into about 20 different pages. I don’t feel like putting links to all of them here. It also removes punctuation that the library doesn’t use, like the exclamation point, question mark, colon, and so on. But it’s pretty mind-blowing stuff, if you ask me. If you try and browse the library yourself though, you probably won’t find much more than total gibberish. It’s crazy to think that everything we could ever possibly say or write is massively outweighed by meaningless strings of letters and punctuation.

#Lol i tried also im not a furry ignore the furry part #nor am i young

[ryuukia]

[Translation] Tsukihana Kagura Message Cards

If you’re one of the lucky people who got to buy this pamphlet, you probably got some message cards with it. I only got Hajime and Arata, but with Ruby’s help I managed to gather all the messages (thanks again).

I translated Tsukiuta, SQ and Alive, Ryota translated the Vazzrock and infinit0 messages. Enjoy~

Please don’t repost/retranslate/reuse my translations. Likes and reblogs are appreciated.

Six Gravity

Shiwasu Kakeru:

“Kou-kun’s refreshments are so, so, so delicious……. I’m always the first one to take my share! I-it’s not like I’m waiting in front of the desk!“

Mutsuki Hajime: 

“I ended up taking a nap while waiting, and when I woke up in front of my eyes was Issa-san’s sleeping face. I was ready to get up due to astonishment, but then I realized Shun was glued to my back in his sleep. I had to ask Haru to help me out. Stop laughing.”

Kisaragi Koi:

“The costumes are once again so cool! They’re so cool I can’t help but get excited! When I’m so excited I feel the strongest! Tsukihana Kagura, Kisaragi Koi, ready to dance!“

Yayoi Haru:

“Random Tsukipro miscellaneous knowledge: Among all our idols, those who can memorize the script fast are Hajime, Tsubasa-san from SolidS, Ryo-san from Growth, Takaaki-san from VAZZY and Ruka from ROCK DOWN. I guess I should get to work too.“

Uduki Arata:

“Why can we have team muscle training, but we can’t have team strawberry milk? Because it’ll make us more thirsty? That’s not true. Would you like to have some, Ouka-san?“

Satsuki Aoi:

“Rikka-san and I engaged in this blissful discussion about herbariums while we were waiting. We promised to go to a course about it together as soon as we’re done with Tsukihana Kagura. I can’t wait.“

Procellarum

Minaduki Rui:

“I made Russian pudding for the first time in a long while. Roa got the ‘bullet’ and I got a nice reaction from him. Rei laughed.”

Fuduki Kai:

“Kensuke and I got so pumped up after talking about ramen that we started visiting shop after shop together! The others told us to stop because we’ve already eaten too much! All these rehearsals are making me hungry!”

Haduki You:

“This scent coming from ROCK DOWN’s Reiji…… is it, by any chance…… First Love & Rose?“

Nagatsuki Yoru:

“Eichi from QUELL taught me the recipe for his Horimiya-style dry curry. I’m looking forward to giving it a try after we’re done with this.”

Kannaduki Iku:

“When I talked to Ren-kun about how Rui's been teaching me to play the piano, he said "Let's perform together someday!"... I gotta practice more!”

Shimotsuki Shun:

“Each dance reflects its unit’s personality and charm, I guess that goes without saying. …...But among them! Hajime’s! Kagura is!! Bewitching!! Amazing!!! The best OF the best!!!! That sleeve you see waving in the air is mine!!!!“

SOARA

Ohara Sora:

“Who’s been waiting for it? The day when this guy will be performing the ‘kagura’ is coming……!! I’ll dance!! With elegance! And beauty! Achoo!“

Arihara Morihito:

“Hearing Sou during the reading practice reminded me of our school days. When we talk to each other across the desk, it feels like nothing has changed since then. “

Kagurazaka Soshi:

“While we were practicing the kagura, Sora sent his folding fan flying. “Nice catch!’ my hat. From now on we’re under intensive training. Look at Ayumu-san and Haruto-san, that’s the kind of dancing posture you should have.”

Munakata Ren:

“Talking with Sou-nii and Eichi-san about training clothes got me really excited. With their build, they’d really look good in that. I wish my shoulders were as broad as theirs. “ 

Nanase Nozomu:

“It seems in this play we have traditional Japanese instruments! I want to try playing the shamisen too~! The charismatic shamisen player (?) is here!“

Growth

Etou Kouki:

“It's really fun talking to the other units’ members whenever the refreshments I bring catch their attention. The first one to notice when I bring refreshments is…… I’ll keep that a secret (laughs).“

Yaegashi Kensuke:

“This odd group consisting of Kakeru, Koi, Iku, Naosuke, Takaaki-san and I went yesterday to a shop that sells Sichuanese food~! It was so spicy I think it made me sweat more than the rehearsals did (laughs)?“

Sakuraba Ryota:

“It’s better for you to stretch properly, Mamoru. If your body is not warmed up enough, you might end up injuring yourself.“

Fujimura Mamoru:

“Ryo-kun is a demon when it comes to stretching! But I think he’s so strict with me because he cares about me! In other words, all I have to do is give my best!”

SolidS

Takamura Shiki:

“With my other jobs’ deadlines and the stage play rehearsals overlapping each other, I’m slowly starting to feel like I’m caught on a battlefield. After I get past this mountain, I think I’ll be able to dance naturally.“

Okui Tsubasa:

“Whenever we have to wait, Dai-chan and Kai from Procella always work on their muscles, but at one point the number of members increased so much that now it feels more like a club activity~ (laughs). Kai is the head and Dai-chan is his assistant!“

Sera Rikka:

“Lately, Shiki’s been in high spirits. But considering his current work situation, that excitement came to surface because this play gives him the chance to escape from reality. Whenever he’s in a tight spot during rehearsals, he ends up resorting to ad-libs.  Right now he’s in need of a lot of attention (smiles bitterly).”

Murase Dai:

“The number of people joining us in muscle training during rehearsals has been increasing. Futaba from VAZZY and Gaku from ROCK DOWN are in really good shape.  Seeing them makes me want to practice sports.“

QUELL

Izumi Shu:

“Seeing familiar faces in the training hall made it very fun. I guess it was also a good boost for Issei and Ichiru.“

Horimiya Eichi:

“The apple pie I baked together with Aoi-kun from Gravi was a delicacy! The stewed refreshments brought by Yoru-kun from Procella were also really tasty, so…… won’t you tell me the recipe after this?“

Kuga Issei:

“Since Haru-san and Morihito-san were reading something during break, I asked them to recommend some books. I want to give them a try after this. Both of them are thirsty for knowledge.“

Kuga Ichiru:

“With You, Nozomu, Issa and me part of the red team, our colour team’s dance skills level is high! I have to keep up with them!  Alright! I’ll do my best“

VAZZY

Mamiya Takaaki:

“I went out to drink with a few of my old colleagues ♪ We talked a lot about so many interesting things like what parts of us have changed and what parts haven’t.“

Kira Ouka:

“I’m still in the middle of learning how to be an actor, so I observe a lot of things in the practice hall. Arata and Aoi seem to have stage experience, so I consult with them about how to conduct myself on stage.“

Kiduku Issa:

“I’m looking for a place to sleep in, y’know? They’re practically people I’m already familiar with. Sho, Hajime, Arata, etc. They won’t mind even if I sleep next to them.“

Kiduku Futaba:

“I’m training extra hard with Nao-kun and Yuma-kun for the kagura! It’s pretty difficult dancing in a kimono, isn’t it? I’m trying hard to make sure not to have my sleeves hit me in the face… (bitter smile) “

Oyama Naosuke:

“It’s so fun talking with the other units during the joint stage! I was talking about cats with Procella’s Rui-san the other day! Yay!“

Shirase Yuma:

“I’ve gotten along with Issei-kun and Ichiru-kun after we went out to eat one day. I managed to give them their birthday present, too!“

ROCK DOWN

Onoda Sho:

“What I was looking forward to during rehearsals was tea time with Shun. We’ve been told that the ‘atmosphere feels weirdly white’ when we talk, you know?“

Kujikawa Haruto:

“Since the traditional costumes are very heavy, it can become taxing both physically and mentally. But since the back is not tied up, it feels a bit more loose. I'll try to do this with dignity.“

Amaha Reiji:

“Just watching the other units in their costume is fun. Koi and You and… Oh, Tsubasa, too. It seems like they were interested in other units too, because they ended up approaching me the other day (laughs).“

Tachibana Ayumu:

“The Japanese sweets I was given yesterday were so delicious they moved me. Like that one I got from Growth’s Kouki-kun. I’ll ask him where he bought that next time.“

Oguro Gaku:

“I stretch and do muscle training at our rehearsal hall. I’m next to Procella’s Ikkun a lot, so we’ve become friends ♪“

Nadumi Ruka:

“Signing the promo posters turned into a competition against Gravi’s Arata! I won’t lose~ ☆“

infinit0

Sukigawa Rei

“I was expecting the design of Mamoru’s costume to be a pachira, but I was wrong. Guess that’s obvious (laughs). I was really interested in hearing about your song-writing, so let’s talk more next time, okay?“

Mikaze Roa

“This is my first time putting on a costume like this! I’m so excited ☆ But Taka-chan, please stop tickling my sides~! If you do it to me, I’ll fight back! There!”

If you want to support Ryota and her work, you can buy her a ko-fi right [here]. I also have my own [ko-fi] page and [commission page] linked here.

#tsukino production #tsukiuta #tsukipro #tsukihana kagura #english translation #agf 2019 #tokuten translation #six gravity #procellarum #alive #soara #growth #sq #solids #quell #vazzrock #vazzy #rock down #infinit0 #my translation #translation by ryota

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Blood, tears and sea breeze

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

First Previous Next

Chapter 11: Deja Vu

Danny Latimer's cliff, as the locals start calling it even when they already knew he was never tossed from there, was covered by a thick mist and the sea breeze coming from the ocean ahead of him was forcing Alec to lower his head and look at his feet.

For some reason he had listened to her and he was barefoot in the middle of that cold, however the soft hand pulling him to the edge was warm enough to make him ignore everything else.

She was dancing barefoot in the grass, in a floral dress that flew in the wind but was starting to get damp, and he was about to give her his jacket before she could catch a cold.

"Is beautiful isn't it?" Y/N said standing dangerously close to the edge and looking down to the sand hundreds of feet below. "It kind of makes you wanna jump"

"Why would you do that?" He said trying to pull her back to him, once she rise one leg in the air, taking an imaginary step.

"I don't, that's the point detective, also I wouldn't drag you down with me" Y/N said turning aside and rising her hand along with his, now being held by tight and big handcuffs. "Even when you put me here"

Her dress was gone and instead there was the prison white onesie on her, and her eyes were darkened by big bags underneath them, and he took a step away from her backwards crashing to something, he turned around to face Jonathan Norbury with a sad smile on his face.

"She did this" he said and bloodied spots were now visible on his clothes. "You know she did this" he repeated and then his legs finally responded and he tried to run...

Hardy wake up covered in sweat, disoriented since he was not in bed, but then he remembered, and his heart slowly went back to its normal rhythm. He look at clock on the wall 3:00 a.m. so he went to his office to try and get some work done before sunrise, he paced around the floor and finally decided to unlock her door, and cursed himself for getting sentimental about a simple dream.

Doctor Florence had sent him her medical records now under the proper police protocol, much to her dismay and he was reading it throughly, on a note in the margin she had written "Previously treated by a bawbag" he wondered who her previous physician was that make that educated woman talk, or write, like that.

Her actual diagnosis were Dissociative Amnesia, and General Anxiety Disorders, wich meant she sometimes have fugue states where she could do or say things she would later won't remember and also have panic attacks.

That only gave him more questions than answers but he kept reading. Apparently apart from those separate events the one at the bar and the one at school there was no recollection of other episodes in the last five years, at the time she meet Jonathan, and the lowest point of her condition, as he suspected, had been when her parents died.

There was a long list of medication she had been prescribed since she was 7 years old, among wich highlighted in green was Rohypnol, next to another pencil note "Numpty bastard" and he knew enough about the drug to understand the psychiatrist anger. She had removed every medication when she started treating her with good results until last Saturday, where she was completely absent for about forty minutes, according to her friend Ashley.

He made a mental note to ask her about that incident again since he haven't meet her personally, but that event kept coming back, and maybe there was something else to that night worth following.

He was completely absorbed in his reading that he didn't notice the sun rising on the shore, and only realized it was a new day when a loud noise came from somewhere in the house.

With all his senses in alert he took the gun he kept in a safe in his bottom drawer and walk outside his home office. The living room was empty, and he knocked on his bedroom without and answer, he opened the door and the room was empty with the bed well made.

He rushed to the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee and fried sausages took him by surprise. She was in front of his stove, wearing the same floral dress from his dream when he get there, and when she turned around for a brief moment he feared she would give him that sad haunted look that had waked him up, but she just had a surprise concerned look, and put the pan with the sausages down, rising her hands defeated.

"I'm sorry, that's a bit excessive isn't it?" She said pointing at his gun, and he embarrassed put it back on his pants.

"I heard a noise" He explained himself nervous "What are you doing?"

"Breakfast, or something like breakfast, you don't have much on your fridge, I mean broadchurch justice system can't survive if you go buy groceries?" She asked, and he didn't respond and only gave her the same look he give Miller when she showed at his house with food "Cups?" She asked and he pointed at a cabinet, although he was sure she already knew where everything was. "Coffee or tea?"

"I'm fine... thank you" he said and she ignored him and served him a cup anyway.

"I didn't poisoned it" she said once two plates were served and he kept staring at her.

"Where did you get those clothes?" He asked finally siting across the table from her.

"In London, it was a gift" She said and he raised an eyebrow "Beth went to my place after they gathered all the evidence and they gave her permission to bring me some clothes, I was getting tired of the donations, but don't tell Paul"

She ate his breakfast and barely look at him, so he did the same, finding completely odd that since Daze left he haven't use the kitchen island to have breakfast, spending most of his time at Miller's place or the Latimer's.

"So what time are we going to the station?" Y/N asked trying to sound casual, but he could note the fear in her voice.

"Miller is coming in a few minutes" he said looking at the clock, 7:45 am "But we are not going to the station"

"But I thought I'll have to get another evaluation" she said with some relief in her voice.

"You do, but since we don't have someone capable at the station, and that it is a very distressing environment we are going to paid a visit to doctor Florence" he said and she nodded, she stand up to pick the dishes. He saw his reflection on the metal napkin holder, and realized he needed to change his clothes so he excuse himself.

"You are not concerned I might runaway?" She asked playful while she opened the kitchen faucet, and he stop cold on his steps. "I'm kidding" she said and he kept walking.

By the time he was out of the shower and properly dressed he was taken by surprise since she was comfortably curled on his couch, reading a book, and an unfamiliar feeling form in his stomach, he coughed to call her attention and she looked guilty and flustered at him.

"Oh I'm sorry, you have a very interesting collection" She said putting the book aside, it was the script from a play Look Back in Anger "John Osborne, quite cynical" she said, and he tried to remind what that one was about.

"My..." he clear his throat "ex wife gave it to me"

"Why she thought you were Jimmy?" She said, and he almost blush remembering that the protagonist abandons and cheats on his wife Allison with her best friend.

"More like Allison" he said after a while.

"Oh that's worse" She said with a grin, and before he could answer with something clever, his mouth had gone dry when he saw her smile, Miller knocked on the door.

"Morning" she said giving a polite nod to Y/N and an inquisitive look at Hardy. "Are we ready sir?"

They walked outside his house with the teacher in the back seat, in almost complete silence, interrupted by Miller and Y/N's comments on the weather. By the time they arrived at the doctor's office it was empty and Alec wondered if she had made that on purpose for them. She greeted them and she looked very carefully at Miller making him anxious, he sited down while she filled the legal formalities before the test.

"Bit of a deja vu" Y/N said, and he didn't understand her "The first time I saw you, I mean you had a sweater not a suit, but I have this dress, so is kind of the same" She smiled and his mind was partially calmed since now he knew why it looked so familiar. "Wish me luck" she said once she passed next to him to get inside the office, he only gave her a nod, and she rolled her eyes at him with a smile.

"She is going to be there a while, have you eat?" Miller said after fifteen minutes.

"Yeah, I had breakfast earlier" He said, not giving much attention.

"Really? When?" She said since it was not his regular behavior.

"At home, Y/N..." Miller eyes went wide and he was not sure of what to say "Miss Y/L/N cooked some sausages and coffee" again that unfamiliar sensation in his stomach.

"That's interesting" She said and he knew she wanted to say something else but he was not in the mood to listen.

The doctor emerged after a while, and talk to them while the woman was still in her office.

"Well, your initial evaluation was more or less accurate" she said, looking at the paper the psychologist of the station had redacted. "She is non violent, and her mental state is basically stable, however yesterday event appears to be induced by the extreme emotional pressure she is enduring"She said and gave them a written report with more or less the same information.

"And? What about the man she said she saw at the bar, or the person driving her fiance's car?" Alec asked, but Miller already had anticipated the doctor's answer.

"There are technics to recover memories" she started calmly "But they are of no use in court for how easily the information can be contaminated with the examiner biases, also she would be in a very vulnerable mental state" she said concerned first and foremost by her patient mental health.

"So you can't do it?" Miller said, knowing now how easily evidence could turn against them in court.

"I can, but I will strongly recommend Miss Y/L/N contact her lawyer first, and have a proper discussion before she decides to do such a thing."

"I'll do it" Her voice surprised them, she was standing in front of the doctor's office. "I don't want a lawyer, so far I don't think I need one, and if I did something bad, I think I need to know, can we do it today?"

"Y/N, this is not an easy procedure, and much of the things you'll see won't be real, you should really think about it" the doctor said concerned, and Ellie thought she was right and was hoping the teacher would listen, maybe with a lawyer present she would no longer had that unsettling feeling about her staying at Hardy's house.

"I have think about it, and you don't know how bad it is to have a piece of your life in complete darkness, I need to know, and the detectives can be in the interrogation, if this brings some light to Jonathan's case, I have to do it" She said, and Hardy tried his best to look away from her.

"Fine, if that is your choice is fine" the doctor said.

"Can she do it today then?" Alec said finally.

"Sure, wait here for a moment and we can do it" she said and call her assistant to get her equipment ready.

Y/N sitted on the waiting room while Hardy looked at Miller with one of those understanding glances they used to share before, she was worried about him being too involved, and he was worried about Y/N's well being, and even when this was a necessary step in the investigation it also was concerning.

Half an hour later Dr. Florence called them in, and the three of them went inside, feeling that something was definitely about to change.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi

#broadchurch #broadchurch fanfiction #alec hardy imagine #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy fanfiction #alec hardy x ellie miller #alec hardy #di hardy #ds miller #ellie miller #paul coates #beth latimer #crime drama #mental health #amnesia #murder mystery

[taromilkmagic]

Notes: Cursed Child NY 27 November 2019

My first time watching CC was in Melbourne during previews, and I had an amazing time. A few months later I absorbed myself in the cc fandom here and on twitter and I became more and more obsessed with the incredible casts and crew that are a part of this amazing production all over the world. So yesterday, I finally treated myself to a second viewing of HPCC, but this time with NY Cast 2. I was taking frantic notes in between parts because I wanted to unpack and reflect over it, but when I first saw the play I wasn’t as absorbed into the fandom, so there may be things that are obvious that I’m finding new. Anyway if you’re interested in reading my thoughts on this cast/performance and how I found it different to Melbourne I’ve dumped a rant below...

Part One

Act 1

Nick Albus looking at his family and smiling, so excitedly, when they are about to enter platform 9 3/4, is everything I need in my life. But it really is heartbreaking to watching Albus’s progression from excited and hopeful to isolated and resentful.

Everyone in the background at the station is captivated by Matt Ron’s trick. This time around, I noticed that they are all incredibly grossed out when Ron plucks Lily’s ‘nose’ from his behind (accompanied by a loud fart noise), simultaneously leaning away from the Potters and Granger-Weasleys. It’s these little extra details that really lift the comedy in the show for me.

Bubba Scorpius is anxious and tense, but in a quiet/soft way. While I remember Will having very frantic nervous energy, Bubba is much more reserved and closed in on himself—both emotionally, but also physically. He is permanently hunched over and withdrawn, and his movements are smaller—not as wild— and stiffer than Will McKenna’s (James Snyder does a good approximation of this in the Polyjuice scene). When Scorpius is being sorted, he clenches and unclenches his hands. Then, when the sorting hat declares SLYTHERIN! he slowly closes his eyes. Rather than going ‘oh, as expected!’ like Will does with his head tilt and eye-roll, Bubba Scorp seems a combination of relieved and resigned.

As a sidenote, Bubba was staring emptily in my direction at the start of third year while taking to Albus. So I was a crying mess, but I also felt extremely uncomfortable because it felt like he was looking directly at me with his sad eyes 😂

Something that struck me about Nadia’s and Jenny’s Rose and Hermione: the similarities in how they carry themselves and the way they speak. They both radiate fast-paced Type A energy and you can tell that Rose is every bit like Hermione by her brisk mannerisms and alert eyes.

Jenny’s Hermione has a mischievous streak that isn’t as obvious in Paula’s drier, authoritative Hermione (disclaimer: I love them both). In Harry’s office, the toffee line is sung in an enticing tone. Tof-fee? Translation: Are you sure you don’t want one? Apparently, Jenny was quieter than usual during this performance, but I have to say that I didn’t notice this at all. As my first introduction to her Hermione she was both vibrant and funny. 

Nick Albus and Bubba Scorp are much more tactile than Will and Sean (at least compared to when I saw the Melbourne cast in previews). Some moments that stood out — Nick touches Bubba’s shoulders and back a LOT, including on the train at the start of their third year, and then at the start of fourth year when he escapes Rose’s efforts to (re) befriend him and plunges into Scorpius’ train compartment.

Another instance of cute Bubba-Nick Scorbusness in the visit to St Oswald’s. Scorpius stands directly behind Albus, turned toward the audience and away from Amos, for most of the conversation. He flinches away several times when Amos is talking, essentially sheltering behind Albus. Have I talked enough about how Bubba’s Scorpius really is adorably awkward? When Albus earnestly assures Amos that they know about the danger they’re about to embark on, Scorpius leans in to Albus and says “Do weee?” Albus turns around, and Scorpius immediately spins around and peers at the wall details—he even squeaks Oh LoOk!! (*in small twitter font). Overall, Bubba Scorp feels vulnerable—more vulnerable than Will!Scorp, who is a bit of a drama queen at times—and must be protected at all costs.

Right before drinking his Polyjuice, Bubba did his trademark forehead shzzzzap, and it was art.

Act 2

When Albus and Scorpius decide that Delphi should not travel back to the first task with them, and Delphi is storming off after kissing Albus, Sara and Bubba do that thing where they both almost run into each other and block each other, then feint/dodge in the same direction as each other twice. Bubba Scorp says “OHkay!” in an exasperated voice before going around her. It was an incredibly awkward and funny moment and you could feel the tension between Scorpius and Delphi.

The Edge of the Forest scene was beautiful, as always. I didn’t notice this but at stage-door Nick told me that he stuttered and struggled to say “Look-L-look its-look it’s Hogwarts.” And then he said that Bubba was side-eyeing him like >_> the whole time. Bubba definitely seems like the sort of person who would passive-aggressively judge you at your worst moments, but I love him anyway.

Interestingly, the lighting is different here compared to the Melbourne production. The theatre is lit up with soft golden lights which make it sort of look like golden hour, casting everything in a comforting glow. In the Princess theatre, they go for a more literal Hogwarts-through-the-trees, with gorgeous dappled shadows on vibrant blue and orange stained glass windows. Both of these work wonderfully.

In Dragons, James Romney’s Slytherin student being in the wrong House section and having to squish through everyone was very funny. Kevin Reyes as [Craig Bowker Sr?] was doing something funny in the crowd during the first task as well but I can’t remember it for the life of me sadly. But it made me realise how amazing and constantly on point every single member of the cast is, even when the spotlight isn’t on them. Sitting in row D was a massive change from being in the balcony in Melbourne, and it made me realise and appreciate the actors who are carrying out their own stories in the background. 

Nick’s Albus looks both a little put out and surprised when Hogwarts’ audience has a mixed response to Harry in the first task. 

Interestingly, James Brown III’s Bane is more human than horse here than Melbourne Bane (MelBane?), who would neigh and snort every few sentences. The only horse noise he makes is a loud snort as he backed away into the shadows. 

Albus was having nightmares in the hospital wing during Harry’s conversation with Dumbledore. Several times, he mumbles “Dad?” in his sleep as he tosses and turns. It’s actually kind of heartbreaking. 

James Synder and Nick Podany both pretend to eat the chocolate. The chocolate itself is fake and a Lie. I just thought everyone should know that. 

There is a noticeable difference between Paula’s Hermione and Jenny’s Hermione in the first AU, particularly the DADA classroom. Jenny is much more aggressive and explosive, getting in Ravenclaw girl’s face with a loud nOOO??!!? Her soft, dangerously cold voice was terrifying and a different take to Paula’s terse, irritated, authoritative tone. This AU Hermione seems angry and vindictive, rather than just disillusioned and bitter. In Melbourne, Paula presented her AU Hermione as a possible version of the same person—someone who could grow more and more unhappy with the world over the years. Jenny’s AU Hermione was different; her energy simply felt so wrong and at odds with her usual character, and I think this performance emphasised how unnatural and completely off the new timeline itself is. It definitely made me empathise with how shocked and bewildered Albus would have been, and it reminded me of my experience reading the script for the first time as it gradually dawned on me how messed up the timeline had actually become.

Staircase Ballet in New York made me just as emotional as it did in Melbourne. I don’t think that scene will ever get old for me. Bubba did some incredible face-acting that I was glad to be able to see from my seat. His Scorpius really looks completely broken and despondent as he stares downwards and then, later, at Albus.

Sara’s Delphi is soft (wait what?? I know...) when she speaks to Scorpius about him and Albus. Madeleine Jones had more of a “silly billy, of course you should just talk to him, he’s your best friend!!” big sister vibe when I saw her in Melbourne—gentle, but talking down a little bit (still in a friendly way). This Delphi is much softer, which only makes the reveal more shocking and upsetting when she later reveals her real motives.

Bubba Scorp blowing Polly Chapman a kiss twice in a row to distract her from Delphi under his cloak was so LOUD and breathy and cringe that I may have died from second-hand embarrassment.

The library confrontation! Incredible! @lumoshyperion observed something about Melbourne’s Louis!Scorp in her (incredibly detailed and poetic) review/recap, where he falters and holds himself back at the end of each sentence or phrase during the library confrontation. This was definitely true of Bubba as well! He would sort of trail off and fade away as he spoke, rather than crescendoing continuously to a shout.

When McGonagall came into the library and the two boys were hiding, Nick SKIDDED across the stage and FELL flat on his face, knocking a chair over. It looked really painful and I was like 😶. I asked him about this at SD after, and he said he was okay but that he and Bubba immediately started laughing while they were hiding under the invisibility cloak. After McGonagall left, Bubba casually put the chair back up right before he sat down.

The two boys were both vigorously wiping their eyes during the library confrontation. When Nick hugged Bubba, Bubba made a 😬 and stuck his arms out straight.

When Draco said “The girls’ bathroom on the third floo...ooorwhat on earth would they be doing there.......”, it was so ridiculously deadpan and disappointed and exasperated all at once. I haven’t written many notes on him but Jonno truly is an amazing Draco.

Being from a close seat this time, I was able to see the second task. It definitely didn’t look like a projection this time and that made it feel much more dynamic and engaging.

Bubba Scorp gets immediately self-conscious after the “Consider me engorg-impressed” joke and steps quickly back from Albus and the sink (where he was casually leaning), wrapping his robes around him tightly.

Lauren Myrtle was hilarious as I assume is usual. Lauren’s Myrtle did that thing where she poked at Harry with her foot with every word she said. He flinched back every time, it was hilarious. Diane did a full flinch and staggered back four feet from Myrtle’s hISSSS. 

Lauren looked upside down—DIRECTLY at Albus—when she said the “....and BOYS” line, and Albus immediately started fidgeting with his hair, with his hands behind his head. HE KNOWS THAT SHE KNOWS. In general, Lauren’s Myrtle was just as hilarious as Gillian, although a lot growlier. There was, as there was in Melbourne, a large round of applause as the second task began, presumably for Myrtle! 

I realise I have zero notes about any of the 'adult’ characters but they are just all-around excellence anyway so there’s not that much to say. Matt Mueller is a fantastic Ron, but very different to Gyton. He’s just as cheesy and cheerful, but not as jolly and laidback (if that makes sense...it’s a little hard to describe). Diane Davis as Ginny is Soft™, and very clearly understanding and caring. It’s easy to see that Harry depends on her as a source of advice, wisdom and emotional support. She generally doesn’t “roar” like Lucy Goleby’s Ginny does, so when she shouts it tends to come out in one angry punch—i.e. “My son is missing!” “SO is MINE!” (as opposed to SO!!! IS!!! MINE!!!!). As for James Snyder’s Harry, his anger and frustration in the alternate timeline is scarily believable, and it’s upsetting to see how it affects Albus and Ginny. It made me think of Angery Harry in Order of the Phoenix (I’m not @ing the people who say Cursed Child Harry is OOC, but...maybe I am). His American accent popped in a few times, but I barely noticed it and he was such an incredible Harry that I did not care in the slightest. The woman next to me was marvelling at how much he resembled Daniel Radcliffe, but to me this wasn’t even a fraction of why he felt like an authentic and well portrayed Harry.

Part Two

I have much less notes for Part 2. Part of this is because I was too much of a weepy mess being swept up by the art of Bubba and Nick’s Scorbus and part of it is because my phone died. I hope you enjoy what I DO have though!

Act 3

After being assigned this investigation, I can report that I am pretty sure I saw Bubba drool (?????) in the Dark AU office scene and I don’t know why or how or what... I didn’t even know this was a thing that happened on the daily but yes, yes it did. If anyone can provide more information on this... And yes, Bubba did look amazing in the Dark AU outfit. Thank you for the warning. I was still unprepared.

Spinella Snape was great! He has the deep voice down, and the dryness was Dry. Something interesting that happened in the Snape classroom scene is after he opens the secret passage in the chalkboard, Snape takes Scorp by the shoulders and gently guides him toward it. It’s a surprisingly protective and ~mentorly~ action and it reminded me a little of Snape getting in front of the Golden Trio in the PoA movie. ~Obviously~, Snape is a terrible person. But I guess he’s also capable of looking out for others! Stephen Spinella did an incredible job at actually endearing his character to me.

Ron fumbling with the wand for ages before pointing it at Scorp in the Dark AU. Unlike Gyton (and the script), Matt didn’t point it at himself this time. But he fumbled with his jacket a ridiculous amount before finding his wand and it got a lot of laughs, including from me!

Bubba was so out of breath after getting out of the pool that he had to take a long pause between the first “Harry!!!!” And “HARRRYYY POTTERRRR!”

Fiona Reid’s Petunia, in the graveyard scene, was visibly emotional. You could hear her voice getting choked up as she thought about Lily. I didn’t pick this up the first time I watched the show, but here I got it and I even teared up a little.

The jump scare GOT ME.

During the Slytherin Dorm scene, Bubba Scorp leaned over the top of Albus’ bed and yelled directly over his face to wake him up. This was both hilarious and adorable. And Malfoy the Unanxious: this whole scene was pure gold. Bubba doing weird hip-swaying dances in the air on tippy toes. Bubba waving his hands in weird and wild gesticulations (a contrast accentuated by how stiff and closed up he was prior to this). Aaah. He must be protected at all costs. 

Bubba said the ‘It’s time that time turning became a thing of the past” line very solemnly, and leaning in very close to Albus’s face (!) rather than standing (sitting?) next to him and gesturing proudly, which is what I remember from Melbourne. It’s an interesting take and a more serious one. It’s also more Scorbusy, so I’m not complaining. 

When Harry and Ginny and Draco walk in on Ron and Hermione kissing, Diane Ginny said OH! really loudly and, without a pause in her stride, immediately circled around and started to leave 😂

Jonno Draco acted so disgruntled when Specialis Revelio didn’t work. It was hilarious how grumpy he sounded when he said it was worth a try

Sara’s Delphini was much more menacing than I remember from Melbourne. I think what Madeleine did great in Melbourne is make Delphini seem like Ralph Fiennes’s Voldemort — powerful, ambitious, confident, a little bit dramatic. She DECLARED her lines: it was very Shakespearean. Sara was more sneaky and sinister. You get a sense of how she easily tricked Albus and Scorpius. Also, when she was mocking Albus for being naive, she did the little leg-kick dance that she did when she was saying he was becoming quite some wizard. I don’t remember if this is something that always happens with her or with other casts, but this is the first time I was paying close enough attention to notice it and I got CHILLS at the return. Sara’s Delphini is just that sinister and bone-chillingly terrifying.

Act 4

I have a lot of Feelings about Part 4, but not many details, sadly. Mostly because I was too absorbed by the incredible acting by everyone on stage.

James Snyder jumped around a lot when he said “Clever boy left me a message!” and it was such a pure and adorable move compared to his previous Angst that the audience laughed and cheered.

Jonno was wiping his eyes a LOT in the scene in Harry’s office. Several times, as Draco spoke about Astoria and her death, he got so choked up that he had to pause and take a breath before going on. It was a teary scene for all involved and a great testament to Jonno’s acting ability. 

Since we’re on Jonno, his delivery of “Look at the thatched roofs.......and......is that a farmer’s market?” SENT ME. He genuinely sounded kind of intrigued, interested and hopeful. I guess Joward Draco isn’t the only one who loves a good farmer’s market.

When Draco and Scorpius hugged in Godric’s Hollow, they hugged for a long time. He held onto Scorpius for a long time after, repeatedly craning his neck to be closer and holding him close as if afraid to let go again. Throughout subsequent scenes, Jonno kept his hand firmly on Bubba’s arm/inner elbow. You can see how shaken Draco was at losing Scorpius, and how fiercely protective he is now that he has his son back.

When Nick hugged Diane from her side, sitting on the bench in St Jerome’s, he knocked her down a little and she said oH! as she lost her balance. It was such a spontaneous moment and showcased the bond between Albus and his mum.

In the second to last scene, and perhaps most importantly in this entire recap...When Nick Albus says: “You better ask Rose if that’s the right thing to do!” (in response to “this new version of us”), Bubba keeps his hands firmly gripped on Nick’s arms, and stares at his face for a full three seconds before going “oh-ahaha...yeah!” and laughing awkwardly. Then, when he goes off and the stairs start spinning to bring Nick into the Nice Day scene, Nick keeps his head facing to the side where Bubba had exited—Albus’ gaze lingering distantly on Scorpius. Not saying Scorbus is canon (I really am), but Bubba Scorp’s last scene presented him as a very believable Confused Bisexual.

Finally: Nick and James rushing into a hug right as the lights went down.

“We almost broke like four times” — Nicholas Podany, 2019, on his scenes with Bubba. We are so blessed to have them.

#ccsquad #harry potter and the cursed child #cursed child #cursedchildnyc #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #scorbus #nick podany #bubba weiler #jonno roberts #draco the penguin #nadia brown #cursed child review #broadway #jenny jules

[cutepresea]

XD0-4 Gjallarhorn Prologue: Miku’s Battle

Sorry again for the spam.

If you want to blacklist these, you can use either the tag #gjallarhorn prologue or #xdu scripts

Reminder that these are copied straight from XD Unlimited itself, so any grammatical weirdness, mistranslations, and/or mischaracterizations are not my doing.

Miku Kohinata: "Aww..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "What's wrong, Miku?"

Miku Kohinata: "I'm just worried about everyone."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Oh really? You don't need to worry!"

Miku Kohinata: "But nobody came back yesterday..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "It was a Gjallarhorn alert. That stuff usually takes longer than a day to take care of."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Don't worry, I know everyone's going to be just fine!"

Miku Kohinata: "Yeah... You're right."

Hibiki Tachibana: (Yeah, they're all...)

Miku Kohinata: "What's wrong? Is something on your mind, too, Hibiki?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh? M-Me? It's nothing. Ahahaha..."

Miku Kohinata: "Liar."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Um... Well..."

Miku Kohinata: "Is it something you don't want to tell me?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "I'm sorry, Miku."

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's... Well, I'm actually worried about you."

Miku Kohinata: "About me?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Yeah, what with you starting to fight with us and all."

Miku Kohinata: "It's okay. I can fight too, you know?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "With Shenshoujing..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "But it's just that you aren't used to fighting, so I'm a little worried."

Miku Kohinata: "You're such a worrywart, Hibiki. Nobody has ever gotten used to anything by not doing it, right?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Well... I mean, that's true, but..."

Miku Kohinata: "And what about all the training I've done?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Yeah, of course, I know that."

Hibiki Tachibana: "But..."

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki... To be honest, I'm really happy."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh?"

Miku Kohinata: "Before, I always had to stay behind and wait, but now I get to go fight by your side."

Miku Kohianta: "It was always you protecting me, and you always getting hurt."

Miku Kohinata: "It was hard not being able to do anything."

Miku Kohinata: "So for once, can you let me protect you a little?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "But... Uh..."

Hibiki Tachibana: (I'm really happy she's thinking of me, but I just can't accept this. I just can't.)

Miku Kohinata: "Everyone's contributing in their own way. Plus, I even have a Gear now."

Miku Kohinata: "So from now on, I want you to let me protect you."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Then, I'll protect you--"

Miku Kohinata: "No. That's not how this is going to work."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku?"

Miku Kohinata: "I want you to protect everyone."

Miku Kohinata: "Not just me, but everyone else you want to keep safe."

Miku Kohinata: "I'm bound to have my hands full just protecting you."

Miku Kohinata: "But you, Hibiki, you'll be able to protect so many more people."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku..."

Miku Kohinata: "Being able to be right there helping you while you're doing that is like a dream come true for me."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Okay, I understand."

Hibiki Tachibana: "We'll make a good team."

Miku Kohinata: "Yeah. Thanks, Hibiki."

Miku Kohinata: "Oh, a call from S.O.N.G."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Hello, this is Hibiki."

Genjuro Kazanari: "I've got some bad news. Another Karma Noise has appeared in this world."

Hibiki Tachibana: "So there were more of them."

Genjuro Kazanari: "I hate to admit it, but that appears to be the case. Anyway, we need you on site immediately!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Roger that!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Okay, Miku! I'll be back later!"

Miku Kohinata: "I'm going too, remember?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Oh, right."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Okay, Miku! Let's go!"

Miku Kohinata: "Yeah!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Take it slow, Miku."

Miku Kohinata: "I'll be fine as long as you're with me."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Okay! Then I'm moving in!"

Miku Kohinata: "I'll cover you!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Hyaaah!"

Miku Kohinata: "A counterattack? Not on my watch!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Now!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Raaaaaaaagh!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku!"

Miku Kohinata: "Yeah!"

Miku Kohinata: "I'll stop its regeneration!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "The Karma Noise signal is decaying rapidly!"

Elfnein: "Incredible. Miku-san is performing far better than expected relative to her battle experience."

Aoi Tomosato: "Their compatibility rivals that of Shul Shagana and Igalima!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "Their faith in each other makes them the perfect team."

Hibiki Tachibana: (What is this? Just having Miku by my side makes me feel stronger!"

Miku Kohinata: (I'm doing so much better than I did in training. Is it because Hibiki is here with me?)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku, I'm going in!"

Miku Kohinata: "Okay, I got your back!"

Hibiki & Miku: "Hyaaaaah!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "The Karma Noise signal... It vanished completely!"

Aoi Tomosato: "So this is what they can do together?"

Genjuro Kazanari: "It's not that I was expecting them to lose, but this is just unreal!"

Elfnein: "Yes, they really do make a great team."

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's all thanks to you, Miku!"

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki, you were incredible!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Ehehehe... You're making me blush!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "The sky. It's..."

Miku Kohinata: "H-Hibiki, look at that!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh? Is that... a crack in the sky?!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "What happened?!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "G-Gjallarhorn has sounded an alert of unprecedented scale!"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "These energy readings are off the charts!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "What?! Where the hell is it coming from?"

Elfnein: "Please give me a moment. The current Coordinates are--"

Elfnein: "Wh-What?! It's coming from our world!"

Aoi Tomosato: "Commander! Look!"

Genjuro Kazanari: "What is that?! Is it a crack in the sky?"

Sakuya Fujitaka: "We're getting massive energy signals!"

Elfnein: "Something's coming."

Hibiki Tachibana: "What... is that?"

Miku Kohinata: "It's like a huge shadow blocking out the sun."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Is it a giant monster?"

Miku Kohinata: "Is it a dragon? No, it's more like a snake..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's descending really slowly."

Miku Kohinata: "What's that? It looks like it's releasing some kind of black smoke."

Hibiki Tachibana: "That black smoke... It's miasma! And lots of it!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's gathering up into... No way!"

Miku Kohinata: "This can't be real! Two more Karma Noise?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Could that thing be creating the Karma Noise?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "We need to do something!"

Miku Kohinata: "But what can we do against something that big?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "All we can do is try! We need to act fast before it makes more Karma Noise!"

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki, wait!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "If we take that one down, we can take our time with the others!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Get out of my way!"

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki, watch out!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Thanks, Miku!"

Miku Kohinata: "Wait, Hibiki! There's one more behind you!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Aaagh!"

Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Sorry, I got a little careless..."

Hibiki Tachibana: "I guess fighting two Karma Noise at once would be a little too much for us."

Miku Kohinata: "Wouldn't it be safer if we took one the Karma Noise one at a time?"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Yeah, you're right."

Miku Kohinata: "Huh?! Look! The monster is releasing more miasma!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "What? More Karma Noise?! We have to stop it before it's too late!"

Miku Kohinata: "I should be able to do some damage from afar with Shenshoujing."

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku?!"

Miku Kohinata: "Graaah!"

Miku Kohinata: "I hit it!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku! The Karma Noise!"

Miku Kohinata: "Aaaack!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Miku?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: (The miasma is gathering in its mouth.)

Miku Kohinata: "Huh..."

Hibiki Tachibana: (It's aiming at Miku?!)

Hibiki Tachibana: "Look out!"

Miku Kohinata: "Huh?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "Aaaaah!"

Miku Kohinata: "H-Hibiki?!"

Hibiki Tachibana: "M-Miku... Are you okay?"

Miku Kohinata: "I-I'm fine. But you're--"

Hibiki Tachibana: "It's nothing... Everything's gonna be... just fine..."

Miku Kohinata: "Hibikiii!"

Miku Kohinata: "No, Hibiki, wake up!"

Miku Kohinata: (I promised I would protect her.)

Miku Kohinata: (So why am I the one being protected?!)

Miku Kohinata: "The Karma Noise..."

Miku Kohinata: (I said I'd help her...)

Miku Kohinata: (But I'm too scared to move... Why?)

Miku Kohinata: (I'm sorry, Hibiki.)

???: "Eat this!"

Chris Yukine: "You two all right?!"

Miku Kohinata: "Chris?!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Sorry we're late!"

Miku Kohinata: "I'm okay, but Hibiki..."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Don't worry, she's just been knocked out. If we can get out of here and get her treated, she'll be fine."

Maria: "Now, then..."

Maria: "Karma Noise are one thing, but what on earth is that?"

Kirika Akatsuki: "It looks like some kind of monster."

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "It's so big, maybe even bigger than Nephilim."

Miku Kohinata: "It suddenly appeared in the sky after Hibiki and I defeated the first Karma Noise."

Miku Kohinata: "These new Karma Noise came out of the miasma it released." Tsubasa Kazanari: "What?! Are you serious?"

Maria: "So that thing is giving birth to Karma Noise?"

Chris Yukine: "Then it's simple. All we have to do is beat that thing!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Wait, Yukine! It's reckless rushing the castle first!"

Maria: "She's right. If you want to take down the general, you first shoot his horse, right?"

Miku Kohinata: "That was the mistake me and Hibiki made."

Chris Yukine: "That's so lame! What if it just keeps making Karma Noise in the meantime?"

Kirika Akatsuki: "That's fine! If we work together, two, three, even four Karma Noise won't be a problem!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Kiri-chan, we need to be careful."

Chris Yukine: "So we basically have to get rid of the Karma Noise first, yeah?"

Maria: "Yaaaah!"

Maria: "It can't move now! Finish it!"

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Leave it to us!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "Prepare to be torn to shreds!"

Chris Yukine: "We'll attack one after the other!"

Miku Kohinata: "Y-Yeah!"

Chris Yukine: "Let's make mincemeat of this thing!"

Miku Kohinata: (We missed?!)

Chris Yukine: "We're not done yet! It's wide open!"

Tsubasa Kazanari: "I've got it now!"

Chris Yukine: "Yes! That's the last of the Karma Noise!"

Maria: "It seems we managed to finish them off before any more appeared."

Tsubasa Kazanari: "Yeah. All that's left now is to storm the castle."

Miku Kohinata: (They're amazing... They took down two Karma Noise in the blink of an eye.)

Miku Kohinata: (And look at me, I didn't help at all...)

Chris Yukine: "Don't space out in the middle of the fight! Stay focused!"

Miku Kohinata: "Oh... Sorry."

Miku Kohinata: (She's right. I need to stay focused.)

Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Watch out!"

Kirika Akatsuki: "It's coming this way!"

Miku Kohinata: (I promised Hibiki. I promised that I was going to protect  her!)

#senki zesshou symphogear xd unlimited #symphogear xd unlimited #senki zesshou symphogear #symphogear #gjallarhorn prologue #xdu scripts

[quarantingz]

oop mind dump(!), half-baked thoughts (!), usual confusion(!), being busy(!), efficiency(!), procrastination(!) & none of the above(!)

enjoy :))

[written on] 7 april, tuesday

[intended to post on] 7 april, tuesday

[intended to post 2.0 on] 8 april, wednesday

[finally posted, after much procrastination and probably just laziness, on] 9 april, thursday

Hi there!

With a lack of a profound statement to start off this entry, I’ll just say this…my mind is as scattered and non-sensical as ever! What’s new?

Second coffee in, I’m thinking about, as the title suggests, a lot of things (with as much caffeinated enthusiasm as it suggests)! I definitely didn’t think I was going to be writing a post today because I thought yesterday’s entry [monday’s] was heavy enough that I could simmer and ponder over it for a while longer. But I guess, as things go, and because I naturally must write things down, I need to write everything that’s going on in my head right now - before I forget, but also so I can pRoCeSs it :)

I will definitely not get through everything I think I want to write about in this one post, and for the sake of keeping it short and still somewhat legible and engaging, I will try my best. Maybe I will do a part two (??). Hmmm maybe I won’t haha. We’ll see how this goes.

Here we go…enjoy…

So as I was swinging my arms and getting a good stretch of the legs on our family “night” walk yesterday, Tali asked me, “did you have a good day today?”. It was a simple question and one I always answer with a “yeah kinda, did a few things, wish I did more, but tomorrow will be better!”. I like looking on the bright side, but it really got me thinking about what it means to be busy and how society has placed a lot of emphasis on it currently.

I recently read an article on It’s Nice That called, “You are More than Your Output”, which was an interesting read on this idea of “busyness”, the pressures on what we do for a living, self-definition from this and our relationship with work. Oosh, it was confronting and I definitely needed to discuss this with someone further. So of course I decided to send it to Gwen, Cullz and Paulz (there’s something so comforting and encouraging to know that I have people in my life who creatively challenge and most importantly, understand my journey as a creative, post-graduation).

Twas good discussions and what they said was so so good (got my brain juices flowing for sure), but I want to briefly touch on this topic and my thoughts about this…I love being busy, in fact, as I’ve mentioned before, I thrive off being busy. As bizarre as it sounds, I’m almost like an adrenaline junkie who gets off of busy schedules and long lists of TO-DOs. I like to ambitiously jam-pack my day with the most things I can do and “tick off” in ONE day. Sounds overwhelming and you’re probably thinking I’ll burn out eventually and I won’t always like this once I have a full-time job. But for now, I like that feeling. It makes me be and feel productive. And although I regularly remind my friends to take a break and relax in order to rejuvenate, I can’t seem to take this advice myself. I constantly feel like I’ve drunk five cups of coffee within 20 minutes, so my heart usually feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest, and my mind is so full, it’s almost incomprehensible and confusing.

Anyway, back to productivity…this feeling is probably the reason why I struggle with self-love a lot - if I’m not achieving everything on my list, I’m not being productive enough, it is not a “good day” and I’m not…“succeeding” in life. Which again, is all about MINDSET, people!

Yes, everything does comes with balance, prioritising and re-evaluating what’s the most important things in life at any given time. Sorry, but I feel like this entry will just raise more questions and half-baked thoughts (ha, managed to tick that off the list!), than actually solving anything.

I guess what I want to touch on here, is not so much on the debate about whether you should be busy or not, it’s more about dismantling these personal-constructs that we have in our minds…

Ahhh, another topic to elaborate on (solely) for another time I guess (…??).

*** SIDE-NOTE (COZ WE LOVE A SIDE-NOTE) ***

Right now [tuesday, 2.40pm], my eldest sister sits on the La-Z-Boy, rocking back and forth trying to write a new idea for a new script. My dad too, sits facing the same way as her towards the ranch slider and garden, bowl of sweet mung bean soup in hand, relaxing in a foldable picnic chair for his “break”. I can’t help but smile at this scene and feel very happy and content in where I am right now. It also makes me chuckle at the contrast of their peaceful reflections with my scattered mind and furious typing. My frantic fingers almost echo in the quiet space that is my living room. I like this. I had only wanted to write one word down for this entry before I forgot it (then finish this piece tomorrow, when I felt like it), but here I am having written over one page long. I’m also not listening to music, which is rare for me as I like dwelling in the emotions and vibe of the music while I write - it helps me as you know by now. But in this moment, it’s just Tema, my dad, me, my typing and my silent scattered thoughts.

*** END OF SIDE-NOTE (ACTUALLY A SMALL APPRECIATIVE-NOTE) ***

Back to the point…the mere act of typing furiously on my keyboard (ooh links!) actually makes me feel busy and definitely makes me look busy. When someone says, “oh Alyssa, you’re always so busy” or “bro, when are YOU free?”, it kind of makes me feel good - that I’m somehow “succeeding” in life because I actually have things to do. But isn’t it all superficial and just an appearance? Because in my mind, I’m not achieving as much as I want to do within a day or week. Anyway, maybe that’s why a lot of people, even myself, give into this idea of busyness - because we’re fed this belief that to be “successful”, means that we not only occupy ourselves to the max, but we look the part too. That’s apparent in any bustling city, like Auckland, or London and Paris. People are constantly moving and doing things. These cities never sleep and apparently that idea means those cities and people are thriving and being “successful”.

I guess another aspect I want to discuss is the idea of efficiency. For some reason, that word is so mockable, but maybe that’s just because my boyfriend uses that word excessively and I like to laugh at him (because he’s silly, not because I’m a bully, woah, CHILL). So to be busy, and therefore “successful” is also associated with being efficient. Which also relates to B, who applies lip balm VERY STRANGELY, but efficiently…he applies it by swiping the stick across his top and bottom lip at the same time, followed by a giddy “EFFICIENCY G!” EVERY. TIME. This is quite like the idea of “killing two birds with one stone”. The idea of doing the most you can and preferably at the same time in order to optimise time. It also links with the saying, “time is of the essence”. Because we have such a limited time on Earth, people feel like they have to fill everyday and every waking hour doing something - or else we feel unproductive and ultimately a “failure”. I’m not saying everyone feels like this (I do), or that efficiency is stupid and entirely negative. I think it’s entirely individual and lies within our perceptions of the things we actually do and hope to do. Everything is relative (??).

Which brings me to the subject of procrastination. For example, in the span it has taken me to write this blog post, I’ve made myself a bowl of plain porridge for my late 2pm lunch (oop photo reference - twas really nice actually), a toastie with salami, sweet thai chilli sauce, harissa sauce and a lot of pepper (odd mix I know), which I had at 4pm, but now consider as my dinner coz now I’m stuffeddddd. I’ve also made hummus (which I think I want to write about next - there’s a metaphor in there that I want to exploit lol) for the fam, folded all of the whites and made the cinnamon apple filling for Tema and I’s mini pies. Talk about procrastination…see here, maybe this isn’t “procrastination”!

The issue lies in how we prioritise and give importance to certain things in our life. And in this case, I’m still being “busy”, but my perception of what I’ve done is that these are menial tasks - they are of lesser importance and priority compared to other things on my to-do list. Again, it is all relative. This comparison between certain things we do is what makes us fall into this trap of self-punishment and “failure” (again, maybe it’s just me). So when we do the thing that seems less important, we consequently feel unproductive . But I had been meaning to make hummus since last week, and I intended to eat lunch at 12.30pm, but got too busy looking through some design concepts for my friend, AND I was meant to fold the whites so my dad could have a clean set of singlets for this week. And lol, I wanted to make pie filling because we all craved something sweet (can’t we just do things just coz?). Looking over these, all of them are important! But why do we prioritise our jobs as so and essentially, degrade our life choices??!

Okay, I think I’m going to wrap this up because there’s no point to this entry anymore. But it was interesting to type out all these random thoughts and somehow try to weave them together. But as always, this is just a ramble. You're confused, I’m confused, we’re ALL confused.

(Or maybe I wanted to see whether you could keep up with my 100 mph train of thoughts hehe)

So to tie everything up in a big, definitely-not-an-indecisive-red-or-maybe-blue-nah-feelin-green-now-BOW…be busy, don’t be busy. Procrastinate, don’t procrastinate. BUT, be kinder to yourself. You don’t have to be busy nor productive - give yourself some slack, you’re doing the best you can! So practice SeLf-LoVe.

You owe yourself thatttt much :)

p.s. I think this post was more me procrastinating about writing and posting, because clearly, I took my time procrastinating and eventually posting three days later than when I first wrote this.

Anyway, have a great day y’all (productive or busy or none of the above)!

- a

[hopelessromantic1352]

Kissing Prompt #63 - Routine Kisses

This is a prompt requested by @lxaah11 and @alj4890. I hope it works for the prompt and you like it 😊 Word count is around 1,100

Tags: @alleksa16 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @choicesfactor @choicesmakemychoices @pb-boeboe @marycarrillo21 @kuladekiwi @ajayismybae @zeniamiii @choices-dan

I sit in my chair, which I placed purposefully next to Thomas' director's chair, and poured over my lines.

"Steph! You want some breakfast? These bagels are amazing!" Matt proceeded to take a bite of his cream cheese covered bagel, smiling as he chews.

"I'm good, thank you though."

I focus back on my script, attempting to make sure I'm fully prepared for the day when Addison calls my name.

"You're crazy! I'm even eating one and you know that I avoid carbs like the plague."

I clench my hands around the script tighter.

Holly rolls her eyes, "You two need to leave Stephanie alone, she's actually being a professional and you two are acting like children."

"Thank you Holly." I clear my throat and shift in my seat.

My gaze focuses back on the script sitting in my lap.

"Someone's been spending too much time with our director." Addison smirks, causing me to roll my eyes.

I feel a presence to my left, opposite of Thomas' chair, and I see Chris settling in his chair with a script and two binders.

"Morning," his voice is full of exhaustion. His hair is mussed, and does not even have an attempt at a style.

"Morning, you uh, got a little baby throw up on your shirt." I point out a spot on his shoulder and he groans.

"Damn, I thought I actually stayed clean." He rubs his hands over his face. "Our baby hasn't slept through the night in weeks, meaning my wife and I haven't slept well in weeks and it's really starting to take it's toll on us."

"Sorry." I really had no words for him.

What am I supposed to say?

That sucks, maybe you should wear earplugs at night.

Don't have kids.

I turn my focus back to my script as Chris and I fall into a comfortable silence. Or maybe he just fell asleep. Either way, I can focus on my lines again.

"Get the green screens set up over there." Thomas sounded snippy as he waltzed onto the set, looking as handsome as always. And dressed to a tee as always.

Great. Snippy Thomas is even grumpier Thomas.

"Morning Thomas. Can we go over something real quick?" I see Holly out of the corner of my eye holding out a binder, but Thomas just brushes her off.

I think he's in a worse mood than I am. I read through a few more lines when I feel strong hands on my shoulders massaging them gently.

I tilt my head slightly, relaxing under his touch. Out of the corner of my eye I see his lips nearing my face, so subtly, I present my cheek to him. I keep my eyes trained on the script, but my focus was all on Thomas.

Is he really doing what I think he's going to do? He's never affectionate in public.  

His lips land on my cheek first, then move to my temple, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss before pulling back.

"I missed you yesterday." His voice is hushed enough that only I can hear.

Addi and Holly have lovestruck looks on their faces as Thomas presses another kiss to my cheek.

Matt coughs, repeatedly, before he takes a drink of water. His eyes are wide as he looks back at my direction.

"Well, maybe we should spend more time apart. I like you being clingy in front of other people."

He chuckles quietly. "Being away from you for a day feels like an eternity."

He leaves my shoulders and sits in his chair on my right. His left hand finds my right, interlacing his fingers with mine.

My heart races as he continues his public display of affection.

I lean over to his ear, "I missed you too."

I smile at the sight of his neck breaking out in goosebumps and the slight shiver that runs through his body as my breath touches his skin.

"Good." He smirks at me before turning to the staring faces.

I see him scowl and his hand tightens its grip slightly.

"What? Go on with yourselves." He makes a shooing motion with his free hand, waving them away.

They quickly look away, pretending to be going over something in Holly's binder.

"We are going to dinner. Tonight." He pulls out his phone, opening the reminder app. "At six thirty."

I smile, "Oh, I actually already have plans. A date actually."

He scowls at me.

"Yeah. He's this grumpy, rough-around-the-edges guy, but he's got a soft side. Plus, he's probably the most attractive man that I've ever seen." I poke Thomas' side, "For some reason, even though he scowls all the time, I am still crazy about him."

His scowl drops and he smirks.

"I had you going huh?" I giggle.

He shakes his head and chuckles. "You are incorrigible."

Before I can react he presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

He pulls back, but I'm still frozen in place.

What just happened?

Did he just?

No way.

I open my eyes, feeling a blush on my cheeks, I look down and away from everyone.

"Wow, I think this is the most awkward I have ever felt in my entire life." I forgot Chris was sitting right next to me. "I feel like a teenager who just walked in on his parents making out on the couch."

I break out laughing, as do the rest of the cast gathered in the studio.

I double over into Thomas' lap, crying from laughing so hard.

"I believe he just insulted us, why are you laughing?" Thomas' voice was stern, as if he were scolding me.

I can't say anything. My sides hurt so bad, but I can't stop laughing.

"Why was that so funny?"

I finally collect myself and look up to see Thomas looking down at me. His face has it's usual serious lines, but his eyes are full of amusement.

"You should just laugh, Thomas." I poke his cheek and let out a few more giggles before I completely compose myself.

He smiles, but contains his laughter. "I absolutely will not. I have already shown too much emotion in front of these people."

I lean over to him. "I don't think you have." I press my lips to his again, smiling into the kiss.

"That's it, I'm out of here." Chris stands up, "I can't take you two anymore. I'm way too tired for this."

Thomas and I pull apart, both laughing.

"I love you." I whisper quietly in his ear before brushing a soft kiss on his cheek.

He smirks as Chris walks away, "I love you too."

#thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #professor hunt #thomas hunt fanfiction #red carper diaries #choices rcd #hunt x mc #mc x thomas hunt #rcd #playchoices #choices

[clubdolan]

& They Were Roommates ... | NC

When long time friends become housemates and everyone sees it but them.

“Whoaaaa-kay, Noah. Who is that, why is she here and why haven’t I met her?” Erik stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into Noah’s kitchen.

“My name is Brooke, I’m staying here for a while and.. you’re meeting me now.”

Noah nodded at Erik as she had answered all his questions. “We were friends in high school, lived in the same neighborhood and our moms are good friends…. and our sisters are the same age.” 

“So you just moved your girl-next-door in without telling me? Or anyone?” 

“I lived across the street and down a few houses.” She corrected him, “not next door”; grabbing her plate of food and heading to the room that she had been given. 

Noah lowered his voice, “It was super last minute, she got a job out here and needed to move. We’ve kept in touch and I saw she needed a place so until she finds one by herself, I said she could stay here.”

“And I ask one more time, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know you needed to know who was living at my house.” He shrugged, grabbing a drink from the fridge. 

“I needed to know, because she’s… gorgeous.” 

“Yeah, she’s cute.” Noah said, “She’s a dancer too, I know you’ve got a thing for—

“Ughhh, fuck yeah. Hook me up, bro. Give me the digits, introduce me, let’s all go get—

“Not gunna happen.” He laughed, “She’s on the ‘independent I don’t need a man’ train right now.”

“She didn’t know she needed a man until she met me.” Erik brushed off his shirt, “I’ll go introduce myself—

“Duuuude, you’ll see her here sometimes. Talk to her then. I don’t want my friends annoying her, I said you all would be normal…”

Two months in and Brooke’s schedule was never the same as his. She would leave at six in the morning and arrive back home to a living room full of boys yelling at video games. Noah would be gone for three days in New York and she invited her friend Shanna over who just gushed that ‘everything smelled like Peter Kavinsky’. They went to eat with groups of friends, went shopping with people, her mom and sister visited for a few days and he invited her to the movies with Jack and him.

One day their schedules collided, both heading to work out at the same time. “Come with me to Unbreakable, do some boxing.” 

“I’m more of a hot yoga type.”

“C’mon, try something new.” He nudged her shoulder as she grabbed a banana off the counter. “It’s fun, you’ll get muscles and cardio at once.”

“Fine. You want a banana?” She asked, tossing one to him as he nodded and following him out to his car. 

Two hours later they were both laying on the floor of Unbreakable Performance Gym, out of breath from the trainer doing fast sets with them.

Brooke held her hands over her face, trying to catch her breath and gain feeling back in her legs. “Told you it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, loads of fun.” She felt someone sit next to her and water dripped on her chest.

Her eyes opened quickly to see Noah holding a cup of water over her, “Drink.”

“I can’t even sit up.”

Noah groaned and sat the cups down, grabbing her hands and pulling her to sit up. “Hot yoga must not be much of a workout?”

“It’s more of a relaxing work out.”

“Punching things isn’t relaxing?”

“Two different types of relaxing.” She agreed.

“Big workout with Noah Cent today!” The trainer videoed them, walking in a circle. “It hit Brooke a little hard or I might have just gone a little tough on her for her first day.”

“Not fair!” She pointed right at the camera before drinking her water in one gulp. “Totally not fair.”

They headed home, grabbing food on the way. Brooke tried to stay awake and get some work done but as she did some internet research in the living room while watching Noah play video games, she fell asleep.

She woke up on the same couch. Her computer was on the table next to her and a blanket was draped over her body. 

“Bout time.” Noah laughed, “It’s almost four.”

Brooke fidgeted with her phone, “What are you doing?”

“Scripts.” He pointed to the pile next to him, “I need to read through them all and see what I’m interested in.”

“Got any for a girl that can’t feel her legs or arms… orrrr whole body?” She groaned sitting up, “I’m going to get a hot shower.”

“If you want to take a bath there’s a tub in my bathroom. Tay left some bath bombs or something in the cabinet that I will never use.”

Brooke didn’t object his offer knowing his bath tub was loaded with jets and could fit about four people at one time. Hot water ran, bubbles piled up, bath bomb fizzed under the water leaving glitter in its path as she tried to relax her sore muscles.

-

“Hey B, did you fill the fridge?” Noah asked, staring at the contents, “I swear there wasn’t any milk, yogurt or fruit here yesterday.”

She paused on her way out the door, “You said yesterday, I wish we had yogurt and fruit and so when I went to get a few things I grabbed yogurt and fruit.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her.

-

“I thought tonight was video game night or something?” Brooke asked, passing Noah on his way out the door. “Usually there’s a bunch of dudes here—

“Oh, you said you had some friends coming over for the finale of that show you watch, so I told Jackson we needed to play at his house.”

The door closed before she saw a perfectly clean living room, no video game controllers in sight. The fridge not only had her bottle of wine but a few more plus her favorite snack, strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Brooke: Did you really supply the wine and snacks for The Bachelorette finale?

Noah: I figure we’ve ruined enough of your girl’s nights yelling at Fortnite so I thought I’d be nice.

Brooke: You didn’t have to! But thank you! We’re all enjoying it. :)

-

“Wait, don’t come in!” Brooke yelled as she heard the front door open. Noah froze mid way, “Just, stand by the door and don’t come any further!”

She hustled around the kitchen, finishing icing on the cake and checking the clock, “You said you wouldn’t be home for another two hours!”

“They cut my last scene for the day, so I’m early. Do I need to leave? Do you have someone here? I ca—

“No, just give me one second!” She lit a candle and pushed the pan to the edge of the counter. She caught her reflection in the glare of her iPhone before looking down at her outfit; icing on her cheek, her hair tied up out of the way from baking, barely any makeup on, an old t-shirt she found and a pair of leggings.

Brooke had planned to look a little better as she threw a ‘mini red carpet’ for Noah since his movie came out on iTunes that he filmed two years ago. She had remembered hearing all about it and saw it never released until now. 

The cake was white with a red square across it, a toothpick with a picture of Noah’s head was poked in the top of it, ‘SWIPED’ written in black icing, below it ‘#2 on iTunes all day’ was written in chicken scratch of leftover red icing.

“Okay, you can come in.” 

Noah turned the corner slowly and a party popper went off in the air, “Happy movie release day!”

“Oh yeah, it came out today.” He reminded himself, laughing at the cake. “This is awesome, thank you.”

“I was going to make it fancier in here, I had a whole red carpet planned but you came home and you don’t have a red carpet.” She kicked the rolled up red rug that set on the floor.

“No, no, this is fine. This is amazing. The last time anyone did this was… the Austin and Ally episode.” They both laughed, “You and your sister’s made that horrible cake and you all threw it at me before we all watched it.”

“I promise this cake is much better.” Brooke pointed to the box of ready made mix that sat on the counter, “And I wanted to make this like the Austin and Ally party. Every movie needs a red carpet.”

“I mean they’re fun but Swiped was such a small budget. I didn’t even think it was going to come out after that long of waiting.”

Brooke looked in the reflection of the microwave and tried to fix the messy bun on top of her head, but there was no hope for it. “I look like complete shit.” She wiped under her eyes, remnants of mascara were smudged below her lashes. “I should have—

“You look fine.”

“Huh?” She turned around, picking a piece of dry icing off the back of her hand. 

“You said you look like shit and I was saying, you look fine.” He leaned on the counter near the cake, “You always do.”

“I look like I have slaved over this damn—

“Shut up, Brooke. You’re beautiful. You never look like shit.” She finally looked up from her red stained hands and made eye contact with him, “What?”

“I mean... I just... thanks?” She awkwardly leaned on the counter opposite of him, “Even though like my hair—

“No, no, no, stop. You look fine.” He stood up and gestured to the cake. “This is more than you needed to do. Thank you.” 

He opened his arms for a hug but Brooke barely looked at him, “Oh, sorry...” She stopped herself from rambling and quickly hugged him. Her stomach flipped and her face went hot as his arms wrapped around her, they hadn’t hugged in a long time. Since he left to move to California; when they were sixteen.

“You even smell like cake.” He mumbled into the top of her messy hair. “You need to stop being so negative about yourself.”

“Huh?” Brooke asked, pushing herself back from him. 

“You constantly put yourself down, I hate it.”

“I don’t realize I’m doing it. I’m my biggest critic, I guess.” She tried to laugh it off, “Speaking of, I suck at alphabetizing and need to get a whole box done before work tomorrow, so I’m gunna…” She pointed behind her, “Enjoy the cake.”

“Do you—“ He paused, hearing her door close, “Want a piece?” Noah mumbled to himself, sticking his finger in the top of the icing and licking it off.

-

“Wow a house party, is this the LA life style?” Brooke joked, walking in after work. People flooded their kitchen and living room, “Excuse me…. excuse me… oh hey, Kyle… where did that ping pong table come from?”

“We bought it today!” Noah yelled, trying to shoot a ping pong ball backwards into a red cup. “You better not hide in your room.”

“I’m just going to put my stuff down.”

After forty minutes of ‘putting her stuff down’ and two interruptions from Kyle and Jack she finally made her way to the living room.

Brooke recognized a few girls and chatted with them while she downed a few glasses of wine. Kyle got her to open a cabinet which he ‘iced’ her with and she got him back by hiding one behind the radio and asking him to change the song.

“Everyone in here! Game time!” Jack yelled, standing on the ping pong table. Chairs pulled up around it, the couch was drug towards it and a few people stood. 

“It’s an easy game just read the card you pick out loud and do whatever it says, kapeesh?”

Brooke walked in as piles of cards were being sat around the table. Two guys did rock, paper, scissors to decide who would go first.

“Brooke! Over here!” Noah waved from their couch which was parked at one end of the table. She balanced a beer and a hard cider in one hand while she weaved in and out of the people waiting their turn. 

“Scoot over!” She yelled at the company on the couch, “Guys! Move over, I’m sitting here.” She pointed next to Noah and watched Jack yell at the person drawing a card. “I’ll go get a chair out of my room—

“Just sit.” Noah opened his arms and looked at his lap.

Brooke did a bit of thinking, taking time to watch a girl chug the rest of her beer before she sat down on his legs. “On a scale of one to Jack, how drunk are you?” 

Noah closed his eyes and thought, “Six? You?”

“On a scale of one to Jack, I’m about a four.” 

“BROOKE!” She turned and looked at the table, everyone was looking back. “Brooke I nominated you to drink.” 

She tipped her cup back and finished the beer, tossing the empty cup on the table before drawing her own card. “Person to my right has to chug.”

“Noah!” Kyle yelled.

“Kyle!” Noah yelled.

She looked at the both of them before Noah spoke, “Technically, I’m underneath her.” 

Without an argument Kyle chugged his drink and picked his card. 

The pile of cards was endless. People were dancing, singing, drinking, making other people drink and some had left as it was already around one in the morning.

“There’s no fucking way I’m getting into an uber and riding somewhere when my bed is fifteen feet away from me.” Brooke groaned, leaning back on Noah. “Please tell me you’re not because I don’t want to get up—

“I’m starving so I am.” He laughed, wrapping his arms around her and standing up, “The diner is right down the road, are you sure?”

“My bed is right there.” She pointed to a door across the room. 

An hour and a half later Noah, Jack and Kyle came back in the apartment, begging for a bed, couch, or “literally anywhere with a blanket”.

“Couch!” Noah pointed to the living room, choosing to ignore the mess in the kitchen and just turn the lights off. “I’ll be in my—

“If she’s sleeping here I am one hundred percent taking her bed.” Kyle pointed to Brooke asleep on the couch that still sat at the end of the ping pong table. 

“She will kill you.” Noah laughed, making his way towards them, “B, come on, go to your bed before Kyle gets in it.”

“Don’t fucking touch my bed.”

“Then get up!”

“C’mon..” Noah grabbed her hands and pulled her up. Brooke stumbled and fell into the ping pong table, blaming Noah. “Ten feet away.” He wrapped his arms around her and guided her to her room, “Do you want to—

Brooke groaned and tugged her shirt off, tossing it across the room. “Ohhhh kay, Brooke. I will see—

“Take my shoes off.” She demanded from the edge of the bed, holding her boot up in the air.

Noah cautiously tugged at the black leather before grabbing the other one, sitting both of them beside her bed. 

“Can you get the red sweatshirt from my closet?” She yawned, pushing her covers back. Noah walked to the closet, pulling the red sweatshirt from a shelf. 

By the time he turned around her pants were off and she was under the covers, “Do you still want this?”

Her hand stuck out and she grabbed the fabric, pulling it towards her, “Thanks babe.” “You’re welcome?” He laughed, “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning.” 

-

“Happy birthday, Noelle!” A group of girls yelled, snapping pictures, boomerangs and video of their friend blowing out candles on a cake. 

They all shuffled around taking selfies, posting before they went out, eating cupcakes and continuing their drinking from the dinner they had just gotten home from.

Brooke left the girls to chat and ventured down the hall, “Hey No…” She knocked on his bedroom door, “Noah?” She opened it when he told her to come in, “We’re about to leave, can you take a group picture of us?”

“For sure.” He tossed his book on his bed and followed her down the hall. 

“Noah!!” They all screamed as he walked in.

He laughed and said hi, “I’m just here to take a picture.” He held up Brooke’s phone. The girls all moved around, getting into a row of six, “Smile!”

“Okay but we need a serious one too.” He took a few more.

“And a funny one!” He took three or four.

“Try a candid!” Another suggested. They all moved and talked while he continued taking pictures. 

“Bus is here!” One yelled, looking at her phone. “Get your birthday sash on, Nora!”

In no time they all had gone out the door and down the drive way, “Thanks.” Brooke smiled, taking her phone from Noah. “Be honest with me. Do I look like a slut or just like.... an average LA girl?”

He took a few steps back and looked her up and down, “You look better than an average LA girl but a little on the provocative side.” He saw her face change, “It’s not a bad side, it’s good. You deserve to show off your lil boxing abs.” 

Brooke glanced down at her flat stomach, a few abs finally poking through from weeks of early morning boxing. 

“And I like your hair up.”

She looked back at him, the ponytail swinging behind her. “Thanks. I trusted Jen with my hair and makeup.”

She kept glancing in the reflection of the fridge next to her, fidgeting with lipstick and mascara. Noah kept looking at her, taking her in head to toe, “Are you going to go?”

“Oh yeah.” She tossed her lipstick in her clutch, “Everyone’s going to their own houses when we’re done so it’ll only be me coming home.”

“Why do you keep pulling at your outfit?” 

Brooke caught herself tugging at the cleavage of her shirt, “I just.. I’m not used to the top or bottom.. or shoes. I feel like everything is hanging out.” She laughed, pulling at the bottom of her skirt. “Is my butt hanging out?”

Noah laughed, watching her spin around, “Not at all.”

“It’s dark in the club too, no one will even see anything.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll just stand in the middle of everyone.”

“Good plan.”

“How are they so comfortable in like no cloth—

“Brooke, they’re all waiting on you. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Oh shoot, yes. Bye!” She tried her best to walk fast in her heels, slamming the door behind her. 

Different pictures were posted all night on each girl’s profile. 

@brookeitsme: Happy Birthday @NO_L !

—@ncentineo: photo cred: ME

A picture of Brooke and Jen hugging in the girl’s bathroom.

@brookeitsme: MY H&MUA BABE @jennyfaye

—@ncentineo: team ponytail

A picture of Brooke behind the DJ booth with his head phones on.

@brookeitsme: How did I end up at the DJ booth?

—@ncentineo: 😍

“Brooookieeee I’m going home with you so I can go find Noah.” Her friend Steph mumbled in her ear, holding onto her arm. “Let him take more pics of me if you know what I mean.”

“Nice try but Noah’s after Brooke.” Jen laughed, helping steady Steph. 

Brooke almost spat out her drink, “What? No he’s not. Oh my god.”

“Are you oblivious? To the both of you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah..” Steph got closer to them, “What are you talking about? Because I want th—

“Have you been on instagram? Seen the notifications?” Jen grabbed her phone out and began typing and searching. Brooke had her notifications off since people realized she lived with Noah. Her instagram was non-stop so every notification was annoying.

“He commented on all three pictures you posted. The one of you has a HEART EYE EMOJI.” Jen put the phone in her face, “And he likes your ponytail.”

“Yeah he told me that earlier.”

“Did you see the look on his face when he looks at you? Do you pay attention?” Jen laughed, “You too! You get the melty look when he’s around. I’ve only seen you like that one other time and it’s when we saw Zac Efron at The Grove.”

“And he’s always complimenting you.” Steph added, “I get SO jealous. Like isn’t my outfit hot enough for Mr. Noah Centineo??”

“Ask any of us, we’ve all noticed it.” She pointed to their table of friends, “Right, Meg? Noah and Brooke?”

“Oh their constant oblivious flirting?”

“Are you all joking? You planned this. I told you all I didn’t like him that way—

“You didn’t. Past tense.” Steph pointed out, still leaning on Jen for balance. “What about now?”

“We’ve been friends forever, there’s nothing more than that—

“She didn’t say no.” Jen smirked, “Have you even been looking at apartments to move out?”

“We went a few times but…”

“But what?”

“Noah didn’t like the ‘area’ I had picked out.” Brooke looked down at her heels, “It was sketchy or something.”

“What about the other time?”

“It was too far from his place.”

“What did he say before you left?”

“To call him if I needed a ride.” 

“BROOKE!” It seemed like they all yelled her name at her, “COME ON!”

“What? It’s what friends do…”

“When we went to eat the other day he was allllll about you.” Meg said, “He drove us, paid for your food, drove an extra like forty minutes to get you your favorite tea and then carried your to-go food in the house.” 

“Well when you point it all out…”

“And you told me about the day he said you were beautiful.” Another friend spoke up, “That you always look beautiful.”

“It was because—

“He said he loved your laugh at that party one night. He let you sit on his lap. He kept wrapping his arm around you. You almost fell asleep on him. He helped you change before you went to bed….”

“He calls you B all the time, even to his friends. Ster told me.”

“You always talk about him too.” Jen laughed, wrapping her arm around Brooke’s shoulder, “You always see movies with him and go eat with him and sit at home and watch shows with him and you’d rather order pizza in than go meet me for lunch and then I find out Noah’s home. When he’s not there you always ask to stay with one of us…."

“Why are you all just telling me this now?!” Brooke asked, overwhelmed.

“We thought you would catch on at some point.” Meg laughed, “Apparently not.”

“First of all, rude. Second, where is Noelle?”

“She left with that youtube guy she’s been seeing.” Steph downed a glass of water, “I’ve been waiting to go home with you but now I won’t be inviting myself.”

“Meg was trying to get the attention of homeboy over there but his friend keeps winking at her.”

“I’m here for moral support of everyone and their decisions.” Jen said, “And to make sure we all get a ride home.”

“Can we drink a little more, not you Steph, and dance a little more before I have to go home realizing everything you’ve all just thrown at me?”

Two hours and two bottles later they were all on their phones ordering rides, “No, don’t get an uber.” Meg covered Brooke’s phone, “I asked Noah to come get you.”

“MEG!” She whined.

“BROOOOOKE!” She mimicked her, “You live in the hills and fares are tripled right now. All of us live downtown except for Steph who’s going with me tonight. He’ll be here in like ten minutes.”

Brooke flipped to her texts with Noah and clicked the info button, a map popped up of where he was at that exact moment.

“You’re tracking him?”

“We both share locations in case I get stolen and sent over seas to be sold as a sex.” Brooke explained, “It’s a big fear of mine... He’s right down the road.”

“My car is almost here, I’ll get Steph and we can go wait outside with you.”

The little breeze was welcomed on their skin as they exited the muggy, hot club. They ignored the random guys who shouted at them and stood down from the door, watching for their rides. 

“Really, man?” Meg asked, rolling her eyes at the guy who kept looking at them. “We’re probably half your age, leave us alone.”

“I’m always looking for Sugar Babies.”

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Just an offer for—

“We’re not interested, please leave us al—

“But the three of you can—

“Please, leave us alone.” Meg tried to look around him for the specific car picking them up.

“I was just—

“Oh my fucking god, stop it!” She screamed, grabbing Broke and Steph’s hands. “Please move so we can cross the street.”

The man didn’t move, he kept looking at all three of them; up and down, up and down.

“Excuse me, sir. Please move so the ladies can get through.” Brooke looked up at the familiar voice and Noah stood there with his hand out. She grabbed it and stepped aside the guy; pulling her friends with her. 

“Oh my god, thank you, thank you.” Meg sighed, “I was losing all will power not to punch him in the face.”

“I parked across the street and saw you all with him. Figured it wasn’t going well. Do you guys have a ride?”

“Yeah” Meg looked at her phone, “Black Ford Escape, license plate Y35— right there.” She pointed up a few cars. “Thanks, Noah.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Steph grinned, following Meg to the car.

Brooke grabbbed onto Noah’s arm and rest her head on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m on a boat.”

“You’re a little wobbly but I’ve seen you worse.” He joked. “Seems like you guys had a fun time?”

“Yeah, even though Noelle left with some dude early on. We kept the party going.” She laughed.

“I saw the DJ booth picture, did you have a good set? Play some jams?”

“Killed it. Got a job offer immediately. I even did the one head phone on and one off, felt like a real DJ.”

The car ride home they chatted. She told funny stories of the night, he asked about certain instagram stories, she played a new song she heard and he even stopped by McDonalds so she could have french friends and a Coke.

Her phone started firing away, their group message was blowing up. “Oh fuck off.” She mumbled, shoving it back in her bag, hearing dings continue to go off.

Meg: Snuck a picture of our favorites. *picture*

Jen: SHUT UP I DID TOO *picture*

Meg: Great minds think alike.

Steph: I told her it was creepy, she made the uber driver slow down.

Noelle: BROOKIE that’s so cute.

Steph: He was so hot in sweatpants and a hoodie. 

Jen: Are you alive, Brooke?

Noelle: Is she finally getting the D?

Steph: He deserves it from someone tonight.

Meg: NOELLE! lolololol but really

Jen: She’s going to kill all of you.

Steph: Not if she gets good enough D.

Steph: She’ll be a happy B.

Meg: Happy B because of the D

Noelle: HAPPY B BC OF D OF NOAH C

Meg: Shut up Noelle I hate us.

Jen: I truly wonder what’s happening. Maybe she’s just ignoring us?

Steph: Maybe she fell asleep?

Meg: Maybe she’s finally getting the french fries she’s begged for all night.

Noelle: I still think she’s getting it onnnnn.

Noelle: And then she’s gotta tell us every detail.

Steph: Literally every detail. I need to know these things.

Brooke pulled up the photos and swiped back and forth. Meg’s was a view from behind of her leaning on Noah’s arm as they walked to his car. Jen’s was from across the street as he let her in his passenger door. 

Brooke: You all are sneaky little bitches. I finally got my french fries and Coke. We aren’t even home yet you freaks. Of course I could tell you some details if THAT EVER HAPPENED but he’s just driving me home. I could fall asleep at any moment though.

She recorded a video with random alternative music playing as she ate french fries, her lipstick was half off her lips as she sipped her drink and put it back in the middle console. As she bopped her head to the beat a random hand snuck into her french fry bag and stole some. She followed him with the camera and Noah smiled as he snuck them all in his mouth, looking at the road.

Meg: Brooke you are living the dream.

Jen: I want a guy that gets me french fries.

Steph: I just want a guy.

Noelle: His little smirk he does at you!! I can’t take it!! 

Jen: Do you see it now, B? Are you noticing things?

Brooke: I’m noticing that he carried my shoes inside and made sure I didn’t fall up the stairs.

Brooke: He offered to make me a BATH but I’m too lazy so I’m just laying on the couch resembling a dead body.

Noelle: GET. IN. THE. BATH.

Meg: Fuck youuuu, B. I’ll come take a bubble bath.

Jen: It’s funny because I know exactly what you look like right now without even seeing it.

Brooke: Oh you can see. Noah took this picture of me. *picture*

One leg hung off the couch, one was up on a pillow, her bag of french fries on her chest and her ponytail was let down, giving her a major bad hair moment. 

Steph: Brooke you’re a dream girl.

Jen: I like your smudged lipstick.

Brooke: IT’S FROM EATING.

Meg: You do kind of look dead. Dead but enjoying fries.

Noelle: Can I use this as album cover art? I’m not even joking.

Noelle: 100% would use this for a single. Black and white. 

Brooke: I give you my drunk permission to use it as an album cover but don’t forget to thank me when you win album of the year.

Jen: The party girl song, Noelle! The one you played a clip of on our way to Brooke’s.

Noelle: SHUT UP YOU’RE RIGHT

Meg: Wait, why did he take that picture of you? To prove you’re a mess? lol

Brooke: Because I told him not to speak of how messy I look right now so he CAPTURED IT FOREVER.

Jen: Can’t wait to frame it at your wedding.

Brooke: TOO FAR JEN

Brooke: I’m going to throw my phone in the toilet so there’s no chance that Noah ever sees these messages.

Brooke: He could easily look right now because he’s right next to me.

Meg: Feet or head?

Noelle: Head or feet?!?!???

Jen: Both of you can stop being twins.

Brooke: ………

Brooke: …….

Brooke …… I may be resting my head on his lap. 

Brooke: He wanted more fries and thankfully I ordered two larges.

Meg: Stop texting us and talk to him.

Steph: Just turn your head over and go to wooooork!!

Jen: He put you on his instagram story. I’M DYING.

A black and white picture of Brooke from the neck down with the caption: “Two large fries and a coke, please.” You couldn’t even tell she was laying on his lap, but all of her friends knew.

“Oh fuck youuuuu.” She groaned, looking up at him, “I look so stupid and drunk.”

“No one even knows it’s you.”

“Jen did.”

“Okay well your outfit may give it away.” He shrugged, “It’s just funny you’re so content eating french fries right now.”

“I love french fries.”

“I know.” He smiled, continuing to look at her. Without a word he wiped his finger along her face, trying to remove the stain of lip stick she had smeared while eating. 

“It’s a lip stain.” She laughed.

He tried to wipe it again, pushing harder. “They don’t joke when they say stain.”

“It’s three in the morning.” Brooke groaned, “I need to get up and wash my face and change and probably brush my hair and probably go to bed.”

“You definitely need to go to bed.” He pushed a hair from her face, “And wash your face or you’ll be angry when you wake up. Do you want to go to brunch whenever you wake up?”

“If there’s bacon involved, yes.” 

-

“Those are like.. front row…”

“It’s called court side, but yes.” Noah laughed, “Please go?”

“Doesn’t Jack or like.. any of your guy friends want to go?” Brooke asked, sitting cross legged on the kitchen counter, eating a bag of pretzels. “Not that I don’t want to but I’m sure they’d be willing.”

“But I want you to go.” He leaned on the counter next to hear, flipping the two tickets in his hands. “Please?”

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

He glanced at the clock on the microwave, “Two hours.” He smiled up at her, shaking the gold and purple tickets. “We can go eat anywhere afterwards.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere…” He sighed, tilting his head on her leg, “Please just tell me you’ll go. Because I really want to go.”

“Awwww..” She messed with his hair, “He really wants to go.” She frowned, “If he gives me forty-five minutes I can be ready for a Laker game and In and Out.”

Brooke filmed the outside of the arena as they walked in their ‘private’ door before Noah put his face right in front of the camera and yelled, “GO LAKERS”.

Paparazzi caught them as they entered, Noah guided Brooke with his hand on her back, not answering any of the questions they were yelling.

As they entered the building they ran into someone Noah knew immediately, “Noah Centineo…” James Cordon shook his hand, his other held onto his son who was sporting a bright gold Laker’s jersey.

“Nice to see you again, James.” He waved down at the boy, “Hey little man.”

“This is my son, Max. He loves basketball games.” Max looked up at the both of them, “He has no idea what’s going on.” 

“This is my friend, Brooke.” He put his hand on her back as she shook James’ hand. “It’s her first Laker’s game. She also loves basketball.”

James took a picture of the four of them and shared it on his instagram. Both Brooke and Noah shared it to their stories as they sat down. A few fans noticed Noah and yelled at him across the court before the game started.

Brooke’s friends were texting her that she was on TV a lot and she had to laugh at some of the screen shots she got sent to her. But one caught her eye, it zoomed in on Noah and had a title on the TV screen, “Movie Star Noah Centineo” to inform all that were watching that he was there.

But Brooke didn’t notice that. Neither did her friends. They noticed his hand on her thigh, sitting there nonchalantly as they watched the game and didn’t see the camera zooming in across the court.

People caught pictures of them laughing together, Brooke whispering something in his ear, him stealing her popcorn, her resting her head on his shoulder for a selfie and of course, the internet went wild.

They were a trending topic, every news outlet had them on the front page, her instagram ‘tagged’ page kept continuously changing as his fan accounts posted images. 

Neither of them spoke a word. They smirked at each other as they left their seats after the game, she grabbed his arm and followed him through the crowded halls till they were outside. They needed to make it to the parking lot next to the stadium which required leaving the gated space and entering the public.

It seemed like hours but Brooke finally got her hands on In and Out, snacking on it as they made their way home and onto the kitchen counter where they ate most of their meals late at night.

“All of these pictures of us. Endless instagram opportunities. Good thing I wore a good outfit.” She scrolled through her instagram tags and saved a few, sipping the end of her milkshake.

Her feet dangled off the side of the counter as she answered back her million texts from friends. Normally she would hate the attention but for some reason she didn’t even care.

“Oh, this one’s cute.” She showed Noah her phone, a shot of them exiting the venue, holding hands, both smiling; until her phone started ringing ‘MOM’.

“Don’t tell anyone that I’m muting her call right now, I don’t want to talk anymore. She’s called me three times today.” 

“What about?”

“She said since it’s been six months I need to move out so she’s going to come out here to look for apartments with me since I can’t ‘do it on my own like an adult’.” She rolled her eyes, “My mom has no idea about apartments or neighborhoods around here.”

“So she wants you to move out?”

“It’s been six whole months.” She mimicked her mom, shaking her head. “Like I get it, but I really don’t want her to come help. She’ll be checking crime reports and make me get a place somewhere expensive so I’m not in danger.”

“You’re in danger everywhere in LA, does she know that?” He laughed, tossing their empty bags away before standing in front of her. “You’ll be in a cardboard box in Calabasas if she bases it off safety.”

“I’ve told her that so many times.” Brooke groaned, pushing her phone to the side as her mom texted her. 

“How about you tell her something else?”

“What? Tell her I’m moving home? Tell her I’m moving to the neighborhood full of gangs? Tell her I’m movi—

“Tell her I don’t want you to move out.” He rested his hands on her knees. “I want you here… with me…”

Brooke tried to hide her smile, “I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“It’s safer than living alone, right?” His hands moved up the side of her legs, “Security system, good neighborhood, you’ve been here for six months already so why move?”

Brooke grabbed his cheeks, “Because it’s been six whole months.” She mimicked her mom again, watching him laugh and push his face against her hands. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m very serious.” He moved closer, his hands went around her bottom and he rested his body between her legs, “I don’t want you to move out. I want you to stay here.”

“Wouldn’t it be… tricky… to continue…. this…. and for me to live with you?”

“It would be opposite of tricky, it’d be easier.” He winked, “Not that I would tell your mom that.”

“Oh now you’re going to talk to my mom about it?” She laughed, “Go ahead.”

“Hi, I don’t want Brooke to move out… I promise she’s not a pain…” He faked being on the phone, “No, no, I’m not just being nice…. yes I’m talking about the same Brooke…..” He fake laughed as her hands fell around his neck, “No she’s not annoying… opposite actually…” Brooke laughed, “….my friends get along with her fine, I promise… it’s just that…. I don’t want her to move out.. I think I’ve realized in the past…” he checked a fake watch, “...six years. That I really like Brooke… like reallllly like her.”

Brooke’s eyebrows rose up at the statement before she whispered back to him, “And I realllllly like you, Noah.”

He hung up his fake phone and stood up in front of her. He bit his lip and held back a laugh, looking down at her. His hand went up to her neck as he brought his face down to hers and they kissed. 

For the first time in six years, they kissed. 

“So you’ll tell your mom…?” He asked, his thumb rubbing along her jaw.

“That I’m not moving.” 

“Perrrrfect.” He smiled, picking her up and carrying her down the hall, kicking his door open, “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in here tonight.”

“Every night.” She quickly said back, tightening her grip on the curls at the top of his neck.

It made Noah stop in the middle of his room and smile before dropping her on to his bed and falling on top of her before repeating, “Every night.”

#me #mine #fanfic #noah #noah centineo #tatbilb #peter kavinsky #imagine #writing #write #Sierra Burgess is a Loser #jamey #charlies angels #the stand in #swiped #valet #fanfiction

[maya-tl]

Slice of Life

Author's Note: This fic is inspired by @altruistic-skittles and their Slice of Life Sanders Sides AU, which can be found here. All worldbuilding credit goes to them, I only stitched the ideas together in writing.

Author's Note #2: Due to Tumblr restrictions, the story was split into three chapters. Next chapter will be posted on Sunday.

Honorary mentions: Keep your eyes peeled for @themicrosoftnerd and @crofters-jam , who make an appearance in this chapter!

Shoutout to Toby, who is part of the AU but sadly doesn't get a mention in the story.

This work will also be posted to Ao3 in the near future.

Link to my Ao3 profile will be at the end! Tag list will be in the replies! Enjoy!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

***

"Virgil~"

It's barely above a whisper, but he groans anyway and sinks into the pillow like dead weight. He swears he hears someone giggle just above him and he feels warmth through his chest.

"Virgil, honey," he feels a hand on his shoulder that gives it more of a gentle nudge than a shake, "get up. You'll miss breakfast."

The prospect of waking up just makes him settle down even deeper under the comfy blankets.

Truth be told his brain had probably kicked into gear a good while ago, but once the dreaded feeling of expectation that his alarm would be blaring into his ears any minute had passed without coming to fruition, he hadn't questioned any of it and simply gone back to sleep.

He doesn't know if he's actually gotten any rest since, but the fact that his mind is a foggy blank space probably alludes to a yes.

The mattress dips beside him and the hand on his shoulder resumes its shaking—definitely a shake this time.

"Viiirgiiil~" they say, stretching the word like it's a song lyric, and he can hear the smile in their voice even through his sleep clouded mind. "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead~"

He groans again—though it comes out more like a whine—and tries to wiggle out of the hand's reach. There's another giggle, and this time he grudgingly opens his eyes just enough to muster a glare, but even that's half-hearted and reduced useless when the offending figure leans down and plants a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He laughs softly, reaches up to rub at his eyes, and the steady warmth in his chest flares when the source of said warmth laughs back, beautiful and genuine and music to his ears even after nearly two decades of hearing it every day.

"Five more minutes?" he tries, raspy with morning voice, but even as he's saying it he's already sitting up and stretching his stiff muscles.

His answer is a peck on the cheek this time, and he can see Patton's entire face break into a smile out the corner of his eye when he leans into the touch.

That reminds him, their anniversary's coming up. He makes a mental note to get something ready in advance, even if that won't be for a few months now.

"What time is it...?" he mumbles and reaches for his phone, effectively draping himself across the bed.

"Kids are already up and about." Patton offers as he rises from the bed and goes to open the curtains.

"Wow, I outlasted Roman's beauty sleep? That's a first." he squints through the sudden flood of light and gapes at his phone screen until he's sure his eyes might roll out of their sockets. "Breakfast?? Pat, it's nearly noon."

Patton gives him a sheepish look, though his smile doesn't falter. "Brunch then? We've all had breakfast except for you and Ro—Lolo and I already had pancakes. Roman thought I batter go wake you before you turned into Sleeping Beauty—"

He snorts, both at the pun and the implication; sounds like his eldest alright.

"—and he wanted to make his own breakfast. I'll go get some leftovers ready for you, yeah?"

"If there are any leftovers..." he mumbles under his breath, before it's silenced by another kiss.

"You know Roman is too worried about his physique for that and Logan doesn't approve of pancakes in the morning. I barely got him to eat his share." Patton smiles, and it's crooked and beautiful and the sunlight beaming through the windows brings out his freckles and Virgil gets this inexplicable urge to kiss every single one of them. "Take your time getting ready, you haven't been sleeping much for the past week and I don't want you falling asleep at the table again."

He chuckles, standing up and stretching some more; he can hear the birds chirping downstairs when Patton opens the door on his way out.

Someone that sounds suspiciously like his son is talking more loudly than is necessary on the phone and he swears it's a habit he only picked up after they moved; he must've stayed up late and gotten friendly with that Remy kid at some point, because Virgil knows his 'beauty sleep' is more of an excuse to sleep in rather than an actual concern with beauty.

On second thought, knowing Roman, it's probably both.

"Oh! I almost forgot," he hears his husband, who sounds like he's halfway down the stairs, "Thomas told me yesterday that his car broke down!"

Again? He should probably ask Emile for some lucky crystals or whatever he's into these days, their soft-hearted neighbour could sure use it. That man has such a knack for trouble that sometimes Virgil finds himself wondering how he hasn't burned down his house yet.

Would be a shame too, apparently it's been in the family for generations.

"Do you mind if I drive them to the theatre today? Ro agreed to extra practice hours and his whole group of friends wants to come see how the big play's coming along!!"

Of course he did, and of course they do.

"Nah, I'll do it." he says, even though that's the last thing he wants to do today. Not that his other options are much more exciting; he mostly just feels like sleeping the whole day through. "I've got a shift in about three hours anyway, might as well waste a bit of gas."

"You're working? I thought you had weekends free??"

He pulls out some sweats and a simple black T and heads to the bathroom to turn on the shower. His work clothes are already laid out for once, look at him being productive.

"It's just a small shift, Pat, I took it up so I could have less overtime, it's a compromise."

He can hear the underlying tone beneath the innocent question, the silent implication that if his boss is screwing him over Patton can and will physically fight them, because for all his fun loving self he's also dreadfully overprotective.

He knows Patton's not convinced, but he's also learned that Patton still puts a lot more trust in him than he ever expects to receive, and just like that Virgil suddenly feels an overwhelming sense of belonging.

He loves this kind, beautiful, incredible, perfect man that he shares his life with so much he vaguely wonders if he's legally, ethically and morally allowed to marry him again.

Patton laughs again, and so does Virgil when he realizes he's spoken out loud.

How did he ever get so lucky?

***

Patton walks in on the sight of his eldest son pacing a hole into the kitchen floor, a piece of toast in one hand and a bunch of disorderly papers in the other, with his phone squished between his shoulder and his ear.

"Right?! I would make for a brilliant prince!!" he tries to get out between a mouthful of toast and jam, flailing the papers around like they were the ones who didn't give him the part. "Thomas is totally underestimating my incredible acting skills, the audition I gave was practically flawless!!"

"Or perhaps your ego has finally rendered all your other brain functions useless and you are living under the misguided assumption that you are better than anyone at everything you do."

"Nobody asked you to speak, Microsoft Nerd!"

Logan doesn't even lift his eyes from the book he's reading. As a matter of fact he flips the page over, looking utterly and purposefully disinterested in the tantrum of his older brother, who is currently at risk of choking on his food if the fact that his entire face looks like it's gotten sunburn is any indication.

"No, but you are yelling rather loudly and I am trying to enioy a quiet morning lecture." he adds, manoeuvring his cup from its place on the table to take a sip of tea without breaking the narrative he's currently engrossed in. "Not that anyone ever gets any peace and quiet in this household when you're home."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Play nice, kiddos." Patton chides as he walks in, opening the fridge to take out a rather large stack of pancakes and some orange juice. "And Roman, quit talking with your mouth full."

Roman quietly mutters something like 'gimme a sec Val' before dropping the papers—which Patton assumes are pages of his current script if the neon highlighter marks he catches a glimpse of are anything to go by—into a messy pile on the counter, a tactful distance from the sink.

He even makes a show of swallowing to prove that he's not in any life threatening situation before propping the phone right back to his ear.

"Sorry, my dumb brother interrupted me—"

"I'm not the one actively trying to fail math after the semester's hardly begun." there's suddenly a definite edge to Logan's tone and he's giving his brother a stare so cold it's a wonder his head doesn't turn into a block of ice.

Patton knows that tone; if there's anything his little Lolo is insecure about it's his intelligence, no matter how many times he or Virgil assure him that he's not only the smartest one in the family but also one of the smartest in his school. A work friend of Virgil's they invited over once even called him a prodigy, and that must mean something coming from a therapist.

Unfortunately, Roman's impulse of speaking with absolutely no filter is just as immovable, which means their children have raised the term of sibling rivalry to a whole new level.

Patton decides to stop the argument before it's begun.

"Boys." they clamp their mouths shut immediately, as he knew they would, but he places his hands on his hips just for a little more authority. "What did I just say?"

'Play nice?' Roman more asks than answers at the same time that Logan lets out a tight 'Play nice.'

"Now, what's the right thing to do?"

They sigh in tandem and speak together. "Sorry dad." When he gives them a pointed look they share a glance and give in, both their shoulders dropping the tension simultaneously.

"I'm sorry I called you dumb, I didn't actually mean it..." there's genuine emotion in most of his eldest's apologies, because most of the time he really does blurt out his first thought without considering it and realizes it when his head's in the clear.

"I didn't mean to undermine your creative skills or make you feel inadequate in any way." his youngest is not the most in touch with emotions, but he is smart enough to know when an apology is in order and to differ between a sincere and insincere one.

He gives them a nod of approval and goes back to putting together a late breakfast, plopping the pancakes into the microwave and reaching into a cupboard for a clean glass. Logan likewise resumes his reading as if nothing had happened; Roman is the only one who settles down, picking up his conversation at a more acceptable volume.

As the pancakes are heating up he opens another cupboard door and frowns.

"Have any of you seen the honey?"

"Mhm?" Roman glances over as he chews around another mouthful of toast with too much jam on it. "Oh, it's over there."

Patton turns to the area he'd vaguely gestured to and spots the bee shaped bottle peeking out from behind a very familiar jar of jelly, both items that have long become staples in the kitchen due to Logan's surprising demands. The cap of the jar is undone, and as he swiftly puts it back on his dad reflexes kick in before he can think better of it.

"Who left the jar open?"

The microwave decides to beep at the same moment that Roman abruptly freezes, sticky fingers in his mouth, and he immediately turns to his brother. Logan puts it together in a matter of nanoseconds and practically leaps out of his seat, book tumbling off his lap.

"Is that my Crofter's?!?"

Seeing that not even his acting skills can provide an escape, Roman spreads his arms in a shrug. "Uh, do you own the company?"

It's difficult to get Logan truly riled up, but Roman does have a habit of biting off more than he can chew. Literally this time.

"You know it's family owned—that's not the point, Roman, it's my food!!"

"Oh come on, you have like fifty jars, you can share."

"You didn't even ask me if I'm willing to share!!"

"I was hungry!!!"

"Dad!!!"

Patton manages to suppress a sigh, but only just. He shoves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose for the briefest moments.

Honestly, he loves his children unconditionally, but sometimes, on occasion—and he would never in a million years ever admit this to anyone except maybe Virgil—sometimes he loves them a lot more when they're in separate rooms.

On separate floors.

With their doors closed.

***

My Ao3 profile.

#my_writing #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #logic sanders #creativity sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #moxiety #romantic moxiety #platonic lamp #familial lamp #slice of life au #emile picani

[theliterateape]

Voting Feels Like Date Rape

By Elizabeth Harper

I

“You showed up, so you were asking for it.”

But I didn’t know that was what he was going to do. I thought we were going to have a nice time, get dinner and a movie. He genuinely seemed interested in me, said all the right things. We shared the same views and interests.

“You should have known he was a liar and a manipulator. How stupid are you? Can’t you tell a liar and a manipulator and a charmer when you see one?”

But I so wanted to have a nice time, to believe that someone would actually like me and care about me, listen to me and try to understand my point of view.

“Stupid cow. Dumb bitch.”

I thought he might be someone who would take care of me. Don’t I deserve to be taken care of?

“No one is going to take care of you. Don’t you get that? Slut. Skank. Whore.”

Wait a minute. I’m the wronged party here. I believed what I was told. It didn’t even occur to me that he would do something so awful.

“What? Were you born yesterday? Just off the boat? Didn’t your parents, and the schools, and the church, and daytime television teach you that everything that happens to you is your fault? Don’t you get that?”

But who am I supposed to go with? How am I supposed to tell the truly awful from the somewhat tolerable when everyone is lying and everyone has their own agenda and nobody tells the truth and it’s all just spectacle and manipulation and performance art and a reality that is really unreal because it’s scripted to appeal to the lowest common denominator or some stereotyped demographic, some media consultant’s view of who I am, which doesn't have anything to do with who I am at all? What am I supposed to do when there is no way for me to know the whole truth because everyone is lying and pandering?

“Your questions are above my pay grade, bitch. All I can tell you is, this is democracy. This is freedom. And this is the best you can get.”

Really? This is the best I can get? Well, all I can say is, a girl can dream.

 II

It’s being set up to fail again and again. By clowns in makeup and expensive suits wanting the camera to get their best angle, like creeps who pay for professional headshots to put on their online dating profiles. Lure you in. Don’t they look nice. So clean and well-groomed. But really they’re grooming you…for abuse. Psychopaths testing out how much you’ll put up with, what lies you’ll believe.

It’s your choice, they say. It’s all up to you. You can have what you want as long as you do what I say. Vote for me. Go out with me. I’m everything you want. I’m everything you need. I’m what you’ve been waiting for. Don’t be afraid to reach for what you want, reach for the stars. Vote for me. Pick me. Choose me.

But really you’re the one who is being chosen, like cattle for slaughter, to be ground down into pink slime. A means to their ends. Fodder for the fortunate. Trinkets for terrorists. Notches on a bed post keeping track of all who’ve been screwed. Tally marks on a scorecard for a game you never could win.

III

Extramarital affairs, locker-room talk, trysts in bathroom stalls, stolen kisses, egregious gropes.

Who cares?

Ask me what I want to do to politicians who try to pass laws restricting reproductive rights. I guarantee it’s more brutal and sadistic than any of these dolts could ever imagine. They don’t care about life or the rights of the unborn. Their real agenda is to keep women poor and desperate so they’ll give blowjobs on their arthritic knees for grocery money and work unpaid overtime at Walmart to take care of the children they were raped, guilted, or coerced into having.

 The politicians who force their decisions down women’s throats know which side their toast is buttered on, how to get their joysticks licked, but instead of getting their way by flattery they get it by derision, mansplaining, economic exploitation, forced breeding.

I’d like to chop off their penises and jam them up their assholes while they’re tied to chairs. I would mock them and deride them. Gouge out their eyeballs. Piss in their eye sockets. Hold their noses so they couldn’t breathe while I jammed penises that had been in their assholes in their mouths, down their throats. I want them to know how angry I am. I want them to know my hatred and fear it. I want them to imagine me brutally raping them every time they even think about imposing legislation that affects women.

I hate them all and I want them to die I hate them all and I want them to die

How can I vote for them when I want them to die? How can I vote for them when I know that they lie?

IV

Voting makes me feel so dirty, as if I’m a collaborator in my own abuse. As if I’ve been touched by something unclean, as if I am unclean.

Sometimes there are no good choices.

I understand why Sartre’s existentialist novel is called Nausea. Makes perfect sense. But my favorite story by Sartre that I’ll always remember   because I actually felt nauseated the first time I read it is “The Wall.”

Life will make you dirty. That’s not news. Neither is the fact that government protects its own interests and the interests of money and property. That’s what it’s for. That   is    what    it   has    always   been   for.   “Government by and for the people” is garbage they tell to school children. To inure them to the status quo; to make them grateful for their crappy lives. The people don’t choose the government. The people are scapegoats.

They tell us, “You asked for it. This is what you deserve.”

This is what we tell the victims of abuse and crime. This is what we tell those who are ill and dying.

How we like to pretend we have choices and control. Fucking deluded liars.

 V

Interesting how some will tell you to “hold your nose and vote.” For whom? The lesser of two evils, the best strategy, the best spectacle, the one who will protect your interests, fight your enemies, save the planet. Who is that person? How can we possibly know with the barrage of ideology and propaganda, outright falsehoods, not knowing what’s going on behind the scenes, not fully understanding all the issues and moving parts, an absence of facts and evidence and logical, reasoned, studied points of view, only crap and more crap and lies and crap.

 Your rapist/ abuser will hold your nose so your mouth will open wider as you’re trying to breathe as he crams his cock into your face.

Now we get the political advice to do it to ourselves. Hold your nose and vote. Hold your nose and vote.

Constrict your own air passages. Make it harder for yourself to breathe. Do what you’re told. Help them control you. You will be stuck in scarcity and survival mode.

We berate others on Facebook We get into irritating debates with our friends. Again, an absence of facts of evidence of reason. Name-calling and threats. Yelling in all CAPS. Sharing memes, complicit in the propaganda machine.

These shitheads aren’t worth losing friends over. The spectacle distracts us from our own power. Why are we emotionally invested in the bread and circuses rigged competitions of liars?

 VI

I wonder, if nobody showed up to vote, if the politicians would take the hint, go home and leave us all alone.

VII

Election day is coming up. It makes me sick just thinking about it. My friends on Facebook think it’s important to vote. Or they think there’s something important going on with these pandering psychotic fools.

I don’t have to vote. I could just go to Starbucks and read a book instead.

But my voting place is right next door, at the synagogue. I’m registered to vote because many years ago my husband (now ex) said he would slap me if I didn’t vote in the big presidential election. He wouldn’t really slap me. He isn’t like that. But when you’re married you make your best effort to get along even if that means compromise. He’s socialist vegetarian. I’m anarchist omnivore. We’re still friends. We meet at the Starbucks near his office. Talk for hours. He probably still thinks I should vote.

So I don’t have to vote, as other good friends have reminded me. “If it feels like having an unwanted dick forced into you, you don’t have to do it.”

 But I can’t deny that it’s a choice, to show up or not.

 My father thought people should vote. He’d ask, “Did you vote?”

In the end, everything about this country broke his heart: the government, the “free-enterprise system,” Ronald Reagan. During the Iran-Contra hearings, he’d talk to the TV. “White man speak with forked tongue.” “The problem is you’re speaking out of both sides of your mouth.”

He’d worry if I wasn’t eating. I’m not eating.

I’m drinking. We have that in common. Also, now, high blood pressure. I’m worried I’m also pre-diabetes.

And about what I’m going to do about health insurance.

The other day I called and vented to a friend that I spent the day trying to stretch out my vagina with dildos and sex toys and on the phone trying to figure out what I’m going to do for health insurance.

I’m trying to stretch out my vagina because it’s too small.

I want sex that doesn’t feel like rape.

I want a government that’s not on the take.

Or no government at all. But I know the world isn’t ready. People aren’t ready for that. They don’t know how to be responsible and cooperate all the time without rules and bosses telling them what to do.

I could give up on sex too. But I’m not sure I want to.

If I vote, I will be stretching myself, forcing myself to do something I don’t want to do, don’t believe in, would never choose.

Always the internal debate. To force myself or not. Some things are hard but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn't do them. Sometimes things are hard at first and then the more you do them the easier they get.  

You can get used to all sorts of things, but should you?

#voting #date rape #elections #politicians #asking for it #hold your nose and vote #don't vote #it only encourages them