#one day i'll have the space and the money for better screens and maybe i'll change my approach to these then

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Boundless Breeding

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon

Length: 2344 words

Tags: the definition of breeding, various positions, Master play, dom/sub dynamic, rough sex with impregnation, teasing, spanking, begging, riding, doggy, mating press, multi orgasm, overstimulation, a lot of insults and degradation, Daddy kink, preggo!Hyewon

TW: Breeding kink, but with consequences, degradation, allusions to Master/Slave dynamic / Hyewon being owned

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies and I mentioned this in "Torrential Takeover" and now... we made it come true. I think OC made sure that Hyewon is REALLY pregnant lmao

Credit: @sooyadelicacies ofc, my co-writer for the series!

(A/N: This takes place right after "Punitive Punishment", and this time, we wanted to make sure that it's not overboard in terms of length lol. Enjoy!)

"Hey! Daddy where are you—"

Yujin's whine is cut off by you slamming the apartment door shut. No time to deal with her now. In all honesty, she hasn't earned it yet. A night of no sex will show her that you are able to enforce a punishment. 

The elevator doors open and close. To stand in this tiny space, not being able to speed up the process or do something meaningful in between, it feels like a real-life loading screen. You roll your eyes. Doors open and close.

The car is not that much different. Sure, you are in full control and need to drive it yourself, but with all the experience you have and empty roads ahead, it's just more or less the same. A waste of time, something to groan over. Money can't buy a teleporter if it doesn't exist. A helicopter though, you think with a sigh.

It will be worth it though. Jump out of the car and sprint over to the tall apartment complex. It will be worth it soon. Another elevator ride, but this time you are too distracted by the tightness in your dress pants. It'll be so worth it. Loosen your tie and knock on the apartment door. So worth it.

"Master! I'm so happy you came!"

What a surprise. A surprise that was definitely worth it. 

Hyewon, powerful idol, business woman, CEO—her rise has been steep and it was always evident in her new clothes. From the unique idol costumes, to more expensive dresses and lastly, the suits with ridiculous price tags. She probably wore a new, hand tailored one every day.

But now, for you, it's all different. Hyewon wears a gray hoodie, at least a size too big for her slender frame, as well as a pair of dolphin shorts. Her hair is in a simple ponytail, messy but not completely out of control. Excitedly, she sways from one leg to the other and plays with the hem of her hoodie. 

"I did not expect my slut to look this... casual," you murmur after catching your breath. With every step you take into the apartment, Hyewon backs off more and more. She is diligent to keep a respectful distance between herself and her master. 

"Master, you don't like it? I'm so sorry! I will immediately change into—"

"I didn't say that," you laugh and take a quick step to close the distance. A glass door right behind Hyewon prevents her from keeping the distance, so you relish in her fearful, begging, needy eyes as you caress her tender cheek. She is smaller than you, but like this, she is downright tiny, miniscule, nothing. A hole, she admitted it herself. 

"Hm, but maybe a costume would be better. How about a cow or some bunny ears. That would be more fitting," you whisper and pinch her cheek. 

"Anything for Master, I'll get right to it," Hyewon says with fake enthusiasm that can't hide her uncertainty and mind-controlling, desperate desire. This otherworldly feeling of power over her, to control everything, down to the one final thing she wants, keeps you from taking her on the spot.

"No, too late. Get on your knees and crawl, bitch. I won't lie, I'm a bit disappointed thus far."

Hyewon is obedient. Her bare knees touch the cold floor and her hands follow suit. You open the class door and she gets the point. In a hurry she moves deeper into her open space apartment. 

"This place looks quite impressive. Who owns it?" you ask.

"Master does," Hyewon responds and continues to crawl closer to the couch area. 

You reach for your bitches shorts and yank them down. A firm, quick smack on her bare buttocks makes Hyewon squirm and wince. Literally nothing of her former power remains when you’re around. Hit her ass again just for that cute, submissive voice to return.

"M-Master..."

"This ass is not bad either. Who owns it?"

"My Master does. He owns all of me."

"Oh~" you hum with a smirk and sit down on one of the many couches you didn't even know you own. A snap of your fingers later, Hyewon wiggles herself in between your parted legs. The shorts around her thighs make every move difficult. 

"Hyewon," you say calmly, your smirk fading into a much more wholesome smile, "you can stand up and take them off. You are so tense, God, it's painful to watch. And not the sexy kind of pain."

"Th-thank you, Master."

Hyewon gets up and pulls off the black shorts from her gorgeous legs. You reach for her thighs and pull her closer. Her perfectly smooth, already moist pussy touches your knee, then your thigh. The fabric of your trousers rubs over her core and a pent-up moan comes from Hyewon's mouth. 

"My slut likes that, huh?" you say teasingly and softly nibble on her earlobe. Hyewon has not been touched since the fateful meeting that changed both your lives. Soon, you'll be one of the richest people in the country, from a millionaire CEO to a billionaire with a monopoly.

Meanwhile Hyewon went a very different path, from a prodigy of the business world to a toy that just wants to be filled with cum. Your cum, the stuffing you did not pump into her the last time. She wants it so badly.

"Hm, Master. It f-feels good."

"Good, then I'll make you cum."

A second of silence. Surprise and disappointment are in Hyewon's eyes, but she hesitates to open her mouth to speak up, instead she moans at your touch. You grab her waist gently and drag her body up and down your thigh. The friction on her pussy makes Hyewon whine.

"B-but I thought M-Master wanted—"

"No, you wanted it. You begged for it back then, but it looks like you've changed your mind."

Hyewon cups her mouth as her moans get louder. She certainly enjoys this already, probably even more so because of her deprivation for sex. Only when you feel for her tummy and tits beneath the hoodie does she respond.

"N-no, I—your bitch still wants to be bre-bred. Please, Master, p-put your semen in me."

Slap her ass once, twice, then move to the other cheek. You repeat the process and tug at her messy ponytail. Before you roughly bite her delicious looking, luscious lips. You growl straight into her anxious face:

"Beg, you dumb whore. Beg for it, beg for me."

Hyewon screams. Your teeth dig into her fragile flesh and your fingers attack every inch of her fuckable body. She is so sensitive, the flurry of feelings makes her mind go haywire. Your bites move down her chin to her collarbone, when Hyewon's voice becomes louder than ever before:

"Master, I'm your toy, your cow. I'm nothing without your cock, please fill me so I can be something!"

"More!"

"I need to smell like your seed and gush it all over the place. I need you to fuck me, Master, fuck your heir into me. Breed Hyewon, please!"

You open up the tight prison that are your pants. At the same time, Hyewon gets rid of the hoodie that has left her upper body all sweaty. She is in heat, physically incapable of anything else before your manhood spears her open. Luckily, you set your cock free and immediately place it on Hyewon's needy pink lips. A flick on her labia, and she begins to cry.

"Please, Master, I'm your sex toy, your bitch. Fuck me—ah!"

You push upwards, into Hyewon, while guiding her down onto you at the same time. Before you are even fully inside, she wants to bounce on it, but you keep her waist in place with rough hands on her smooth skin. Give her a pissed look and she falters. Hyewon remains still as your cock goes deeper and deeper. Before you reach her cervix, you give her tits a hard slap and her cry is a double high note.

"What should you say, bitch?" you ask, unimpressed by her writhes and sways on your lap or the way her hands hold onto your knees for dear life. There is enough evidence for you to believe that Hyewon is in fact already close to an overstimulating orgasm. Good.

"Th-thank you, Master."

The tight grip of her lingers on you for a bit. You've only fucked her once, which means that she still feels unique, exceptionally suffocating to your already well-used cock. Combined with her fabulous body and stunning face that has already melted to your will, it helps you enter a stage where there is nothing but fucking, nothing but breeding on your mind.

Pound upwards. Hyewon begins to bounce as well. Your voices combine in a duet of unintelligible sounds of pure bliss. Wet pussy juice and pre-cum leak fast, you're basically forcing it out. You need to pump into her, need her to ride as long as she can. It won't be long and she will be limp. You put one of Hyewon's bouncing tits in your mouth. The other gets twisted gently, roughly, somehow. All for her to go faster, become tighter.

“Ah, Master, s-so good," Hyewon babbles and tries to go faster. It's funny to think that she is simultaneously giving it her all to ride you, while her walls suck you in so hard that she can barely move past the friction.

"Hm, you like to be bred so hard," you say, your voice failing to formulate it as a question, but they way her entire body perfectly milks you, it might as well be fact. 

The well-known knot in your stomach is under your full control, just like the bitch on your lap. Yes, this power is incredible, control absolutely superb, but if you're honest to yourself, you don't mind cumming uncontrollably, all the time, deep inside. You let go.

"Fuck, Hyewon, I'm gonna—"

"Yes, Master, fill me! Breed me!"

You reach for her shoulders and press her down. Hyewon screams next to your ear when your nibble at her jaw is a sudden bite. Her heavy gushing cannot stop your first filling of her child-bearing organs. A sticky, wet sensation engulfs you, engulfs her mind. Hyewon went limp too fast.

Limp or not, you go for more. This is not enough to be certain, hell, it's basically like you're just about to start. Remove Hyewon from your lap, ignore the way she twitches in the aftermath of her orgasm. You bend her over the living room table. It's a bit too small to recreate the view from when you first fucked her in "her" office, but perfect to see her ass high up. She looks so fuckable, even from behind.

You insert yourself again and fuck not only your cock, but also all the cum deep, deep, deeper into Hyewon. After a shriek, she stays breathless at first, but after a minute of unrelenting drilling, she begins to cry. The overstimulation got to her.

"M-Master too-too much!"

"Are you sure you want me to stop—" you hiss viciously while pulling at her hair, "—while I give you this gift of a child?"

"Ah, n-no," Hyewon shouts through her tears. You let go of her hair and spank her rippling ass.

"I thought so."

You reach in between her legs and through your pistoning find her sensitive nub. You rub it with all the wetness of Hyewon's juices and she orgasms again. Involuntairly, her body rocks back and forth to make your fucking even faster. Her cunt once again grips for dear life, it even heats up—okay that might just be your second load, which you dump into her at that moment. 

Usually your mind gets dazed after this much sex with a rollercoaster of climaxes, but just like in a bad Wattpad-Smut, you go for one more round. You wish it would be as big as in those stories, but it's more or less just an excuse to push seed into Hyewon's womb and fall into a delirium of overstimulation.

You spin Hyewon around and place her back onto the couch. She is drooling, whimpering, her marvelous face just a mess of contortions and sweat. With no regards to her flexibility or consequences to potential aches all over her legs, you put Hyewon in a mating press and continue to fuck her. It hurts your spent cock, but her pussy is a perfect pool of warmth and tightness you won't leave yet.

"Master, Master!" Hyewon cries out, her voice crooked. 

"Soon, when you finally fulfill your purpose, you can call me Daddy, cow!"

Your hips work significantly slower, but with more intent. The penetration does not end at random spots. Your cockhead deliberately hits deep, and Hyewon's body jerks with each hard, stimulating attack. Her hands bounce the same way her voluptuous bosom does. Wet noises, mostly queefs from her pussy dominate this song of mating. Moans and groans have been replaced by elaborate breaths and the occasional peek when you hit Hyewon's cavern hard enough.

It's all over soon. Things will be set in motion that cannot be undone. The world-famous, wildly beloved ex-idol is now bound to become pregnant. Her glorious, flat tummy will become concave. Your companies are about to merge, and in the midst of this massive, complicated process with lawyers and data and all the other boring bullshit, something wonderful happens. Sure, it's dirty and seems loveless, but Hyewon's glistening orbs tell a different story.

Tears stream down her face as she pulls you into a hug. Her cunt sucks the last droplets of fertile baby batter out of your balls. You are empty, but she is overflowing.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," she coos and wails as you collapse. Exhaustion hits you like a train, a hydrogen bomb, a fucking meteor. You crawl onto the couch and fall into a dream, a dream where Hyewon is happy, grateful, with a child in her arms.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I surely lost my mind.

#kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #hyewon smut #izone smut #kang hyewon smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #male reader

[farmergilesofham]

The Vanguard Swimsuit Fic, part 2

"Guardian! What brings you here so early?"

Saint-14's slightly tinny voice echoed across the mostly-empty hangar, causing one or two people to turn and look for a moment, before drearily getting back to their own 4 a.m. work.

"Well..."

"Something is wrong?"

"Not... exactly. I'm- hmmm..." the Guardian mumbled, so quietly that Saint leaned in a little nearer.

"Alright, enough stalling," The Guardian finally managed, stepping conspiratorially even closer, hoping the vast metal space would not pick up enough of what followed to embarrass them, "I'd like to ask if you'd... like to..."

"Anything you need for help, I can do." Saint cut in, voice just barely lowered, placing a reassuring hand on the Guardian's shoulder. The Guardian wrung their hands, staring at the ground for a few more agonising moments before finally asking:

"Would you like to be... in a calendar...?"

There was a moment's pause. The Guardian's breath caught.

They looked up. A pigeon had flown up and landed on Saint's shoulder, and the towering Titan was now stroking its head with a single finger, thinking.

"What calendar is this, Guardian?"

"Um. Well, uh. Y'see, the uh... the Eliskni Quarter rather needs some more funding, but without the handy presence of space pirates, the Vanguard's been a bit shot on how exactly they can drum up any money."

The Guardian paused, but Saint gave no comment, so they went on.

"So uh, I had the idea that perhaps if we made something as desirable as pirate... ahem, uh, 'booty', then maybe we could fleece-- I mean, convince other guardians to spend their hard-earned glimmer on it, then send all the proceeds to building up the Eliskni Quarter?"

Saint looked down at the Guardian, contemplating for just a moment before bursting into raucous laughter.

"Huh- what-"

"Guardian! Goodness, I thought you were here to suggest something dangerous! I will gladly do anything to help Misraaks and our Eliskni friends!"

"Now tell me, what exactly do you want me to do for this calendar?"

--

About thirty paces away, Juan José Partinax was typing up some work emails, looking studiously at his screen while straining his ears to hear what The Guardian (Crota's bane!) was saying to Saint-14, as they stood conspicuously huddled together. The enormous, smooth metal hangar was usually too loud to hear anything, but this early in the morning, the sound travelled undisturbed for long enough to just about make out what they were saying.

What he heard soon brought a reddening heat to Juan's cheeks, and it took a few seconds for him to realise he had already sent the final email, though his hands still tapped absent-mindedly at the holographic keys. A heavy clang signalled the docking of an early courier, right as the Hangar-worker took a furtive look at the two legendary figures.

Saint was laughing again, and this time was joined by the Guardian until both lightbearers' knees grew shaky, the Guardian even stumbling before calming down.

"HEY, JUAN! YOU SAID YOU HAD A PACKAGE FOR ME?"

The familiar voice cut through the near-silence of the Hangar, leaving Juan with just one more second of staring, before he turned somewhat reluctantly to shout back at Go Sangbu, the lovely - if very loud - jumpship clamp operator.

--

"Oh, and, Saint?"

"Yes, Guardian?" the Titan boomed, voice still on the very edge of a chuckle.

"Let's have that bet. Ten thousand Glimmer says you can't manage it."

"Ha! You will lose your money, Guardian - I do not wish to part you from your hard-earned Glimmer so easily!"

"Yeah yeah, we'll see. The day anyone manages to convince him to wear so much as a pair of shorts, I'll eat my hat."

And with that, the fellow guardians shook hands, said their farewells, and waved goodbye. Feeling a good deal better about themselves, the Slayer of Gods practically skipped back up the stairs to the main Tower courtyard, barely containing their glee at managing to get the big ole pigeon-lover's support in this silly endeavour.

Saint, meanwhile, was beginning to seriously wonder how he was going to convince Osiris to wear a bikini.

xxxxx

End of Chapter 2! The silliness continues

Next time, on The Vanguard Swimsuit Fic:

Will Lord Shaxx be as easy to convince as the bird-loving Saint? Find out next episode in: "Shaxx's Claymore"!

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 guardian #saint 14 #destiny 2 fanfiction #the vanguard swimsuit fic #part 2 #destiny the game #destiny titan #destiny exo #destiny fanfiction #very silly #lord shaxx #the drifter #and more to come #lightfall #destiny osiris #o14 #the big bad destiny calendar fic

[cleoselene]

All The Concerts!

my mom wrote down every concert she's ever been to and it's a LOT, like in the triple digits

and it got me thinking if I could name every concert I've ever been to? I am fearful I might forget some tho my MS memory sucks but here goes:

New Kids on the Block

Boyz II Men/MC Hammer

Tori Amos (x7)

Switchblade Symphony

KMFDM with Nivek Ogre

VNV Nation (x2)

Air Supply (x2)

Terri Clark (lol I hated country when my family dragged me to this one, I was in my peak Snob Goth era)

Garth Brooks (happened much later when I had learned to embrace country)

Peter Cetera

Sarah McLachlan

The Editors

Radiohead (i hated this hahah, it was so fucking boring like their music. My friend bought the tickets and I had hoped seeing them live would make it click. It did not. I was bored and cold because it was raining in Seattle)

Coldplay (was so much better than Radiohead, seethe snobby indie rock fans)

Regina Spektor

The Decemberists (literally the worst concert I've ever seen. Again I did not buy the tickets but my friend who liked going to indie rock shows always bought two tickets in hopes of getting a date and I was her backup if she didn't. To be clear even though this and Radiohead sucked, I did have a great time with my friend both times)

Cake

George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic

Puscifer

Barry Manilow

ummm now I'm drawing a blank but I KNOW I've been to more shows and the stupid brain damage is making me forget. I've always been to see a fuck ton of tribute bands at this supper club, and tbh they were almost all really good. The Pink Floyd one especially. Also lol in middle school once this club I was in had a band come perform and they were like... a hair metal Christian band that took mainstream rock songs like "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi and changed the lyrics to like... "LIVING 'CAUSE I PRAAYYYY" and it was fucking hilarious. It's driving me crazy tho because I know there are more actual real concerts I am forgetting -_-

so i guess if you count all the artists I saw multiple times, it comes to... *maths* 28 concerts? Which tbh does not feel like nearly enough.

on the bucket list:

Vienna Teng

Brandi Carlile

Portishead (lol this will never happen but a girl can dream)

Beyoncé

Taylor Swift

TOOL

A Perfect Circle

The Amazing Devil (which is somehow even less likely than Portishead)

SO I'LL MAKE THIS A MEME. Tell me which concerts you've been to, and tell me which concerts you feel like you MUST see before you die. @deathinthesun @an-ivy-covered-summer @swiftzeldas @sylvieons and whoever else wants to do it~

I did get Taylor tickets last year HOWEVER they were... beyond atrocious, the seats. Like, upper upper deck, BEHIND the stage with like no visibility, not even of the screens, because again: BEHIND. I had like three people trying to get tickets that day and 2/3 of us failed but my friend succeeded and she was like "do you want me to buy these? they're upper deck" and I was like yeah yeah that's okay! We can look at the screens! And then I saw the "OBSTRUCTED VISIBILITY" thing and looked at the layout and I was like...kind of devastated, honestly? It's really hard for me to do an outing like that physically, it was outdoors in April (which translates to HOT in Florida) and I just didn't see myself able to endure 5 or 6 hours at minimum in the heat without like, passing out and dying. Not to mention I'm still really scared of being in a large space with that many people because my disease-modifying drug destroys most of my immune system. I ended up selling them, and... buying my vinyl collection lol. Taylor got a lot of that money again because I bought a lot of her records. I'm kind of bummed that maybe I missed my chance forever, but again, I don't think I could have physically swung it. Plus, of the three nights she did Tampa, the show I was supposed to go to had meh surprise songs while the other 2 nights had AMAZING ones, so I know I would have been salty about that too. ONE DAY THO.

#music #meme

[seemingmusic]

WHERE WERE YOU (parts 1 & 2)

New single tomorrow morning on Bandcamp. It's about the way now becomes then, the people we lose in the process, and the compromises made.

Election day is coming up. Please vote.

______________________________

WHERE WERE YOU (parts 1 & 2)

[part 1]

Where were you in ’22? The end of the honeymoon The mask is off and the creature is coming through Out of the void that cuts between the eye and the screen

What does she see, young futurist, 1913 Crystal ball, looking down on me— Who damns them all among the fallen— She who fell in with the yelling shiny metal boys? Yes they knew there’s an art to noise That now’s where the time ahead destroys the ashen past But they left their caskets wide Half of them turned fascists while the other half died

Why’s it that a ticket out Is always a Faustian deal with the devil? The field’s not level; whatever— Give me the lever, just give me the lever Just give me a lever and a place to stand I can move the world, I can move the world Give me a lever and a place to stand And I'll move the world, and I'll move the world

But where am I? And why’s this mirror here? Why does it shine with the disappeared? World War One and all to come The spiral swallows up a hundred years Is it wrong that I long for correction? Some invective retrospective court To flex a hand around the necks of Bush, Thatcher, Musk Bastards all who stacked the decks

So who is next? Not Benedetta Cappa, or the table-rapping Foxes yet Tried to escape from their boxes Without a say in their age or their sex Besides, who can test whether the perception I got is correct? Whether I’m inventing a special effect? Am I a lone tall tree in the woods unwrecked unchecked from dusk to sunset?

Where were you in ’22? The death of solitude The end of your tolerance for the call of a prophet Who fed you dreams or the fear of a bloody coup But how did you get here? What did they do to you? And when is now? I mean really, what in hell is now? A junkie who, caught between the memory of flight and terror of the night Begs: what can my money do?

That’s what I get for having two eyes to read with, see with Maybe size up the summer roughness From above this burning forest, California’s poorest, smoke on all horizons Who let all the flies into this version of my life? Am I dying? Where were you in ’22? Go get your alibi, son Make it a good lie

Where were you in ’22? Where were you in ’22? Got one more window to look through Where were you?

[part 2]

The Angel of History turns an eye to the graveyard Growing and churning without a border or safeguard But blown back by the force of the past, The tyrannical gnashing of teeth and the panicking death screech, The Angel of history is paralyzed by a shock to the spine called progress Trinity bomb test, 1945 Everybody ever alive, when you rise, I’ll fall and apologize

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I dreamed of Kemdi Amadiume, where I could see the future And I’m sorry was I all I could tell her Creation is sorry; you deserved better I’m so sorry, sorry The words echo wide to the first ever suicide in the Kalahari And everything tumbling after Hell of a way to conclude the first chapter

So where were you in 22? Who am I talking to? The slaughterhouse animals in the cages all going blue Illegal to film but they’re killed for you to chew And the angel is crying at the Bronx Zoo Are you talking to the meteor in space You’re hoping will break through, come and erase Cut the Gordian knot, plot dissolves, columns fall All our problems going small?

Or are you talking to your parents whom you even still make excuses for 'cause you’re in the will? Executor, testatrix, execution in the matrix Am I talking to entitled generational wealth? The feedback loop spins a Fabergé shell Gilded with rubies and amber gels Waiting to be smashed, cast a spell

Hell, I guess what I mean is take yourself back to fourteen The first and only evening you could see with clarity right and wrong And share with me: do you owe that kid a song? Or were you killed by the age-fifteen version And the guilt that made age sixteen worse And seventeen, eighteen like dominoes And when they come, can you tell where the kid goes?

Are you swallowing the previous minute down? Does this verse chew the last and spit it out? Animal to animal, cannibal to cannibal Man ate the neanderthal What claim do you have at all? Don’t blame the black hole’s gravity well Don’t blame the crocodile eating itself But where you in '22 when the curtain finally finally finally fell?

[mofffun]

Kingohger 25 misc theories / reaction to Big Announcement

EDIT: Erica IG live confrimed Kingoh S2 is happening together with Gotchard i.e. ep27/Sept 3

wait a minute... they have not confirmed 27 would immediately be the time skip, but if so, God's fury is still unsolved. Takamina said he wrote 25 "as if" the series finale, but that does not contradict 30 being a chapter finale. but if time skip only happens in 31 it's a bit early?? why else would they need to announce it at the mid-way point?

Yeah no, "September" is 27. Yuzuki cut her hair ~1/8 which fits with the broadcast schedule.

---

Racules is dead for 2 years????? He's not coming back the same day Yano-san host a baseball opening?

Then again, we never knew what Racules and Deathnarok discussed in their "negotiations" in ep16 🤔

but pessimistically what if 26 is Racules last appearance!? Yuzuki mentioned Yano-san is on set in the madigi trio interview, so that's, by the latest, late July. 🤔

---

the latest TTFC extras call is for an original Sakamoto work. I didn't think it was KO because usually they are more specific with costume details. Now the "Big Announcement" is out is more for sure this is not kingohger-related. still praying for kagu spinpff ToT

---

my first thought was, they simplified everyone's costume so it's easier to move around in ?? but that's not quite true. Himeno and Rita's skirts are, but Kagu is still in that getup and Gira heavier costume so ease for action is not the priority here.

Does "Space" means there'll be more on-location filming? Not that I'm against it of course, just that it doesn't make sense for Toei to spend the time and money they saved by using virtual production, and when the CG is a selling point of the show. For now, the door is open, the question is whether new planets would be shown in CG or kyu-style locations. I lean towards the former in consistence with the fantasy style of the show, but at least they left a backdoor for interacting with previous teams.

To think they'd travel planet-to-planet kyuranger style is probably not what's happening, it's more a general term for the second season phase's boss coming from space and being who caused the divide between humans and buganroks 2000 years ago.

But I'm so down for a kyuranger crossover though 🤣 if this is Sakamoto's new work...

---

Costumes

I didn't notice Gira wearing Racules's clothes the forth, the fifth time. Gotta admit I was very distracted by his hair that makes him look even more like a local comedian XD I like his braids and was waiting for Taisei to cut his hair lol. conspriacy zenkai with that Racules charm being long hair too/jk

Blond Yanma needs some time getting used to. I couldn't be sure at the beginning of the week but I rationalize it as Aoto himself turning blond for a day or two, but that color is really saturate on Yanma haha. I think in general Aoto's hair look darker on-screen? oh wait... that's why his hair on 24/7 is brown instad of black... he's already bleaching it... anyway, 金髪ヤンマ総長めっちゃヤンキーぽい！looks older too. kinda want to throw an ikura-loving daughter with superpowers onto him haha.

Himeno-sama!! I love Himeno's look??! I LOOOOVE the new shoes! I love her dress. You can see her dress more clearly on Erica's twitter. The new dress compensated for where I felt v1 is under-designed/too Belle like. the construction looks like it can do better but it's unfair to say so from just one pic :p the poster ver. looks like a petticost is still included so maybe that was just an offshot. Hair: i wonder if it's Erica's own. It'd be less hot to wear a wig (circles back to location filming speculation). The colour matches and the volume sure is more tamed than before.

Ah. Rita-sama. what can i say. they barely changed. i mean toei wouldn't show us a proper angle of their face huh (or be grateful for their mercy because the fandom would collectively become the avatar foaming mouth guy - wait we already were with the ritamoru scene). i'll tell you what, my knees were on the floor and i was hammeraing it murmuring 'GENDER' at 10 in the morning when i saw they had the guts to cut Rita's hair AND SKIRT short. 💔RIP Rita's coat.

Then I asked if Rita's having a lighter oufit becaus they go out too much/don't stay in Gokkan as often anymore lol.

Kaguragi 😳 I said Kaku-san isn't my type but I appreciate him as a specimen. The long hair startled me. Just when I thought everyone is going in the 'simplified' direction he looks 'more'?, which, very Kaguragi style. He looks like a chinese period drama character!! He looks like the kings in MY history books??!?

Jera... I didn't noticed what happened with Jera before and frankly there's not much visible. He got short sleeves/more exposed forearm + sideswept hair. (and that bug arm glove is looks kinda bare upper the arm) I would be more curious if more of his age is showing…

If Gira is sticking with the crown is it the first sentai without a "red"...

#mon mon #ko25 #kingohger

[bigshot]

[[Event Info]]!!

I'm finally home from Hell work, so here's the rundown on how I'm gonna handle Spammy for the event!

I'm gonna consider this post a tentative-maybe-plotting-ad, I'm not sure if I'll cap it or not. I know I still havent gotten around to hitting ppl up on the main perma plotter but I'm gonna be better about that this time around because the event sounds pretty rad. Usually I wing it, but I'm game to plan stuff out too.

More ideas + some info under the cut!

Spamton has absolutely no fucking clue what's going on or who the girl on the screen was, but she had him at "rewards." He loves those!!

Also; Be warned that if he sees a treasure chest he's gonna wanna open it.

BIOMES

Fantasy ~ While he's not much of a tank (his defense stat in game is literally zero) he can hold his own in a fight if he gets some distance and he can heal allies, but only once. I'm not sure how this place would go down...

Space ~ He's got great vision in the dark and he's a real pro at hiding from danger but, again, he can't take many hits and his main damage dealing attack would more than likely break a window by mistake. At the very least, he might be useful for creating distractions with his minitons. Also, he can fit in vents!

Sea ~ This one sounds super fun!!!!!! He'd be a classic merman with a toy/robotic fish lower half and the attention span of a gnat. Look how fast he can swim!! I don't think the minitons can swim, though.

Jungle ~ He's fast and reactive enough to avoid a lot of traps, but I can't see him and his stubby legs navigating very well at all in a jungle. To say he'd need some help would be an understatement, whether he gets that through somebody else making a path or them outright carrying him when things get rough. But! He can set off some traps from a distance...

Speaking of,

ABILITIES They're already listed in full on his app, but here's how I see them potentially playing out in the event;

Money Vacuum ~ Not very useful here at all, unfortunately. Most monsters dont have pockets to pull money out of...

Word Bullets ~ His go-to attack for dealing sure damage, but not wise to use indoors since the words have to go somewhere.

Minitons ~ I actually see this as being the most useful, or the second most useful, of his abilities here. The little minitons run around aimlessly for the most part, but can be directed to cause a distraction or set off traps and can deal little amounts of damage on their own.

[Press F1 For] HELP ~ The healing I was talking about! The little angel miniton he summons can heal a party member for 50% of their hp! He can only do this once per day.

Head Expansion ~ Why would you want him to do this??

I think that about does it? Spamton's already been through his main plot in game and has zero access to his NEO form, so tough luck for him, but also he's more likely to help other people out than he used to be.

I'll hit up the couple people that already showed interest in a little bit!

#isola rp ad #isola event #man im tired but im so game

[dearserenesoul]

Space, Spacious, Headspace

Last night i slept dekat rumah Biing. Quarters for government servant. Quite spacious; 3 rooms, 2 bathrooms, 1 store. Ya Allah, one day if i get to buy a property like this, i'll be bersyukur sangat dah. I dream to have my own personal space like this too, under my name, with my own money <3

Comel je newlywed, baby is otw, duduk rumah cecomel sederhana macam ni. I wont demand much kalau dah jumpa jodoh and awal-awal kahwin macam ni. To have our small home we can decorate together, live together, mula bina hidup sesama dah bahagia sangat dah. A place of our own. Our little home for our little family. InshaAllah, one fine day.

. . .

Sebagai seorang yang masih grieving dan tak tahu dekat stage mana (i think im going back and forth between the stages), today i got new realization & reflection. I had a perception that he sees me as soft spoken manipulator. At first i was like...ehh. Takde lah marah tapi cam..whatt. But now i have new perspective as to what was going on back then. Both from my pov and his.

Before pergi rumah Biing, Kak Long belanja dinner dekat luar. As simple as dinner dekat luar ni made me reflect differently, because of the space around me.

I think i was so much in my head that my narrative, perception & attitude byk sgt problematic. Betul lah, i was so isolated, so indoor, my world mostly was just my bedroom and my screens, my space was too small, i was in worst place for my thesis too, and it affected my experience of us. Codependent big time. Our dynamic was the largest part of my life. While for him, seorang yang berkerja corporate everyday, even sometimes he gets busy sampai lewat malam, battling his mental health issue lagi, definitely his perception was 180° beza from me. I was careless to understand his place properly. We were really on different page, both in life and in our dynamic.

I was so wrong, so codependent and i wasnt aware that i executed misbehaviours that most probably can be perceived as manipulative. I was clingy and expressive. I thought i was being genuine and honest when in fact it can came across as love bombing. I was the one who has crush on him so i operated from this place of lovey dovey, while he was still in the getting to know me phase; who's this girl, what about herself and her life. Our attachment and investment were not the same.

I remember he said to me many times, "kita take it slow okay, temper expectation okay". What i filter thru my ears was: he's not serious, he's unsure, this is one sided, he plays me yada yada. I got mad at him a lot too. For him, having partner is just the last missing piece because he has other commitments and struggles. He used to be so heart broken, he must had wanted to be careful, while i was so anxious and moved too fast.

I dont want to make any conclusion about who he is as a person. Im sure, the way he didnt get to see the version of me with others and he only got to see my worst, i believe its vice versa. So because of this blank spaces, im still hopeful. Betul lah, we can be angel in some stories, but villain in others because every dynamic brings out different version of us. And i still want to give him the benefit of the doubt & cut him some slack. As far as i've dealt with him, i see his good sides as well as his weakness, just like i have both too.

Idk, as my perspective and reflection get wider, internally i can no longer be so sure as to what should i feel and think. Things rarely black and white. But im more clear. Maybe my hope comes from the place where i choose to see the good side and am still curious about what could have become, given i do better for what is in my control. And also, sebab memang takde rasa nak do this thing dengan orang lain lagi. Like, ada orang dia try je with new people kalau ada lil bit interest tu. But for me, it takes more to start again. I need to have spark of feeling for the other party. I'm not doing this thing just because. Even before i made a proper move on him, i took approximately six months to observe him and had few casual conversations to get the rough idea.

I'm still grieving and still taking my time to reflect things, and the most important thing is to focus on myself. In this state of mind and heart, it's very easy to fall into 'damsel in distress' mode and just want to quickly have someone new to 'save' me from this misery. As romantic as it sounds, it's not healthy for myself, as well as unfair for anyone to get involve with me. If i were to start again and i hope it to permanently last, i need to be well prepared and in my good enough shape.

. . .

Although people say that condominium has its own drawbacks, i really appreciate having this wide far view from above. Rasa luas dunia, terasa lapang dada dan headspace. My house is typical housing area. Pandang ke luar tingkap, nampak rumah orang and the view is so limited. Reason why dulu masa undergrad dekat UIA, tiga tahun tu i picked bilik level atas. Rezeki mata dan eye sight.

. . .

Or maybe i just need some time to be redha to let go and utilize every lesson from the past mess to be and do better in the future with someone else.

#grief journal

[xodiumdotnet]

Those $20 Onn TV boxes

I've been slowly working on building out a workspace/chill space in the garage, after finally reclaiming a lot of the space out there over the last few months by getting rid of a bunch of projects and retro stuff I was honestly never getting around to.

One of the things I ended up wanting in there was a TV, because while I was working on some projects, I had SGDQ 2023 up on my laptop and trying to keep track on such a small screen kinda far away was not the business. Thankfully due to being in a community with people who are just itching to give stuff to a good home rather than sending it to ewaste, I had a TV (a 47" Vizio from 2011 running some esoteric early smart TV platform made by Yahoo) thrown at me. Got it mounted up, and realized that because the garage is the way it is, controlling my laptop to get content up on the screen wasn't going to be the most intuitive.

I could have done the sane thing and bought another Logitech K400+ for like, $25, but then I was reminded of the existence of these cool little onn boxes that go for just a hair cheaper. Figuring it should be just fine even if it can't handle 4K all that well (TV it was going on is only 1080p), I took the plunge.

One quick curbside pickup later (like hell am I going into a Walmart these days) I had the thing unboxed and installing updates.

This brings me to the first thing I like about it: It sips power. The power adapter that comes with it is rated for 5v 1A, so most USB ports can drive this thing, and likely the ones on your TV can too (if it's modern enough to have them). I tried to connect it to one of the three USB ports on the Vizio (seriously, three? That's a LOT for a TV) and it was happy as a clam.

By comparison, my Chromecast Ultra would whine if you tried to do this. And that poor thing seems to struggle with pushing 4K video, anyway. It's just hard to keep in mind this is from a $20 box.

On the flip, there's a bad side here: the power is delivered via micro USB. The sooner that port dies off, the better. But I suppose I can't complain for all of twenty dollars. It does reportedly support USB OTG if you want to expand the lackluster storage, but that kinda gets outside the scope of this device for me. (And you'll need a Y-cable. Because micro USB. Yay.)

While we're on ports: there is no ethernet port. Wireless is your lot. For me that works well enough, also because I don't yet have hardwired ethernet to the garage. Didn't notice any stuttering or buffering. The onn box tops out at Wi-Fi 5, but again: $20.

Setup was typical of a Google TV device. You're likely going to be making a trip to settings to uninstall a load of apps if you're like me and only using this for a few services (for me, that's YouTube, Twitch, Plex, and maybe something else). You also get dumped onto the ad-filled home screen, which...some might be okay with it, and in the context of this device? I'm certainly okay with it: Again: twenty. dollars.

Where I absolutely, vehemently abhorred this was on significantly more pricey devices like my old Shield TV Pro. I paid out the arse for that thing, keep your damn ads out of my face. For $20 though? Sure, I'll stomach it. I'm sure I can swap the launcher but that's whatever for me at the moment.

Once I ran through and deleted everything I had zero intent on using and installed the apps I did plan on using (YouTube/Twitch/Plex), I was left with about 5.1GB of onboard storage to play with. For the light use this box is going to see that's good enough, but if you plan on really getting your money's worth from it, you may want to expand that. (Or get something a bit more fit for purpose.)

Updates run, apps deleted, the last thing to do was to give it a benchmark to see how well it performs, and I usually do that by way of tossing this gorgeous video of Costa Rica at it. It's very easy to spot any frame drops or stutters.

Pleased to report the onn box didn't drop a single frame or buffer at all. It played straight through, smooth as butter. Even my 4K Roku TV's inbuilt hardware struggles hard with this video, so seeing this little box of wonder absolutely spank it is awesome (and has me considering grabbing one to replace my power-hungry HTPC...)

Performance-wise, the only iffy thing I noticed is bouncing around the home screen can be a bit stuttery. Once I'm in an app though, this thing performs VERY well for what it is. No video issues as far as I can see. Twitch streams play perfectly, no buffering there either.

I suppose that would bring me to the conclusion: Do I recommend this thing? If you just need a basic, no frills streaming box that does that task VERY well? Yes. Absolutely yes.

The only way I'd not recommend this is if you want to do things that kinda start to go outside the scope of what the onn box is meant to do. Want to run, say, emulators for retro games? Or other things that are going to require more storage? Sure, you can slap a Y-cable and get USB OTG with the onn box, but past a certain point you have to wonder if you're spending so much that you might as well get the Chromecast w/ Google TV (since it has a USB-C port and is arguably more friendly to external devices because of it).

There's also the case to be made for the Shield TV Pro if you can find one used for a good price, but on the flip, that hardware isn't getting any younger and far as I know, Nvidia's got no plans to introduce a new one.

But if all you plan to do is consume video content? This box is great. $20 well spent.

#onn #4k streaming #tv #set top box #review

[hxneyfaerie]

The Peachfield Chronicles Chapter Two

Settling In

Arabella leans forward and snatches another slice of pizza from the greasy box splayed over the coffee table, pointing the tip at Layla as she speaks. "I wasn't that bad!"

Layla giggles. "You would scream if we put you in anything other than pink! Little did we know we had a budding fashion designer on our hands."

Arabella feels her cheeks flush. "Actually, I'm even better now" - she pulls out her phone - "look, I run a fashion blog on Trendi."

Layla's eyes widen as she takes her phone and scrolls through the profile. "Oh, wow! Your pictures are great! But where did you get the money for all those outfits?"

"I get sponsored," Arabella says. "Companies pay me to promote their clothes. And I also sell outfits on Trendi, I put them together from the Thrift store and people just buy the entire fit."

A small line forms down the centre of Layla's otherwise smooth forehead. "Shouldn't you be focusing on school, not making money?"

Arabella bristles. Actually, I've made a business plan. Complete with a breakdown of estimated bills and a payment plan for the house."

Layla blinks at Arabella in bewilderment. "Geez, sis. You need to remember to be a kid as well."

"I haven't really been given the chance," Arabella snaps.

Layla flinches. Arabella softens instantly, regretting her words. "I'm sorry. Do you - uh - want to see the plan?"

It may not be the most comforting offer, but Layla can see that Arabella, too, is trying. So she buries the hurt, smiles in agreement and follows her younger sister to her newly decorated bedroom.

Before they settled in for a pizza night, Arabella spent the afternoon unpacking her clothes and belongings. But mostly her clothes. She'd had to store her clothes folded under her bed as there's absolutely no space for a dresser of any kind. She's covered the walls with artsy, pastel posters that Sofia had helped her choose to move in with. Her large desk is covered with pen pots, beauty supplies, and most importantly, her baby pink and blue custom-built PC.

Layla runs a finger delicately along the length of its screen. "This is... impressive. Where did you get it?"

Arabella stiffens slightly. "Ah. Clara and Bjorn bought it for me, for my sixteenth."

Layla can't quite recall where she was for Arabella's sixteenth. "Of course they did. How nice."

No doubt, the couple will lord this over Layla at their next gallery opening. Everything they've done for Arabella over the last two years. Not that Layla isn't incredibly grateful, she'd just rather not be reminded of her failures every waking moment.

"Look, Bells," she sighs, reaching out to her sister.

Arabella tenses at first, but after a moments thought she allows Layla to pull her towards the bed. They sit together, Layla's arm wrapped tight around her younger sister.

"I'm not going to do it again," Layla continues, almost choking on her words. "I'm in a better place now. And I'm selling my art. It pays the bills. Maybe one day I'll even show in a gallery."

"Maybe," Arabella mumbles.

"Hey," Layla says, pulling her closer. "It will be better this time, I promise."

"You don't have to promise anything."

"Stop protecting me from myself, Bells. I want to make this promise. Let's just take this one day at a time." She pulls back to look Arabella in the face. "Tonight, we can just finish that pizza and watch a shitty horror movie. Sound good?"

Arabella grins. "Ice cream for dessert?"

"Now you're talking!"

They race back to the lounge in a desperate fight to claim the biggest slice of pizza, and as she settles into the warm sofa, Arabella thinks that maybe this move was the right decision after all.

#sims #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 simblr #simblr #the sims community #ts4 #thesims #the sims4 #sims 4 story #the sims 4 #the peachfield chronicles #the kings legacy

[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 27

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Masterlist

Word Count: 8ish k

Warnings: OKAY YALL LISTEN. THIS CHAPTER TALKS MORE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED W CHRISTIAN AND IT GETS KIND OF HEAVY SO PLEASE SKIP THIS ONE IF THAT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU. THE NEXT ONE WILL BE OUT TOMORROW, SO PLEASE HOLD OFF IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE READING ABOUT THAT.

Summary: You are a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with your complicated feelings for your best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with the flashbacks.

A/N: Hey besties. The plan is to have a few back to back chapters the next few days as long as everything goes to plan. As always- please lmk what you think. xx

Song Inspo for this chapter:

Last First Kiss by One Direction

I'll Still Have Me by Cyn.

Chapter 27

I broke my back 'cause

I knew you would too.

I'd run in circles-

I know you did too.

Maybe in another life,

Everything worked out alright

And things that made this harder passed us by.

But there's no bad dream to wake up from,

Know I got it bad when it's the morning

And you're all that's on my mind

If I don't have you,

At least I'll still have me.

And if I don't have you…

At least I'll still have me.

I never thought twice

'Cause you were my number one

I put you first 'cause

You were my only thought

No more calling out my name,

No more whispers at the party,

Now my secrets only stay with me.

Everybody knows I'm upset.

They don't even have to ask it.

They know I believed in us last week.

There's no reason to speak badly,

We just reached our end.

I will see you in parts of me,

In who I was back then.

If I don't have you,

At least I'll still have me.

And if I don't have you…

At least I'll still have me, me, me.

///

Tail end of August, 2018.

A little over One Year Ago.

Rose-colored glasses didn’t even begin to cover it.

“When do I get to see you again?” Harry asked through the phone. Your cheeks lit up hot pink, the question illuminating the space around you so that every detail was seared into your memory. (More than a year later you would remember this moment down to the last blade of perfectly trimmed grass). You sat on Bethany’s back porch and you were homesick and scared and more than anything, tired. You were in LA, a city that had no charm to you and was too big and too noisy. You had two entire weeks off of tour, which meant that you were free from the shackles of that painstaking routine just long enough to catch up on sleep before jumping right back in.

Bethany had you stay with her this time around, deciding it would make more sense than staying in a hotel. You weren’t opposed, swearing to everyone that by this time next year you would have your own house in the City of Angels (which meant you had to save some money). So, a free place to crash wasn’t something you considered passing up.

An entire month had gone by since you’d first met Harry, and he was so much better than they said.

After your lunch out with him, you figured you might never hear from him again. And that was fine. You saved the paparazzi pictures of you together on your phone, your own private reminder that he was real and it happened and that was you under his arm. You were a hypocrite in that way, always hating having your privacy invaded like that but unable to stop yourself from scrolling through the photos in the back of your tour bus for days after you’d left LA. You looked short next to him. There was one photo, Harry leaning down into your ear, and you knew what he was whispering and no one else in the entire world did. No one. There wasn’t another soul on Earth who could look at that picture and know what was happening. It was something between the two of you, something small and inconsequential but also life-altering and special and private. It was yours. He probably didn’t even remember what he’d said. But you did. You set the picture as your home screen on your phone.

Harry texted you here or there, asking you about your day or what you were doing or if you were resting enough between performances. He texted you knock knock jokes. He sent you screenshots of memes he saw that he said reminded him of you. Eventually the texts turned into phone calls, and the phone calls into long and pointless conversations. Which brought you back here, to this moment.

“When do I get to see you again?”

“When are you free?” You responded.

And so it began. And before you could even notice it happening, all of the infatuation and anonymous longing you’d felt for him faded away into something you’d never be able to shake. You were head over heels, his words and his face and the memory of his hands on your arm sticking to you everywhere like tree sap, clinging to your skin no matter how hard you tried to wash it away. You were caught in his web, unable to think of anything or anyone else. You knew even then that nothing would ever be the same for you.

So, no. Rose-colored glasses didn’t even begin to cover it.

///

September, 2018

“You know, there’s something about you.”

You turned to face Harry next to you from the passenger’s side, unsticking your thighs from the seat. You smiled, the same shy, stupid smile you always did when you were with him. He looked away from the road for a minute, long enough to throw you a crooked grin. He was dazzling. The sun shone on him the way it only ever did in September, making his hair shine amber and caramel and bronze.

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking away so that you could force the smile off your face. You watched the white lines painted on the road move past you both. Harry spoke to you like everything he said was a secret, like he was confiding in you the things that no one else would ever know. Only you, and him, and the hills that waved alongside you. You were driving away from the sunset with no particular destination in mind, racing the sun as it was falling.

“Dunno.” He said. He couldn’t explain any further than that. “There’s just something about you. It feels different being around you.”

“Different in a good way?”

“A really good way.”

You pressed your forehead against the window. The glass wasn’t cool, instead warming your skin as what was left of the sun bored through it.

“You know how sometimes it just feels…” Harry paused, itching the tip of his nose. “Sometimes it just feels like you’re not even yourself. It’s like I don’t even know who I am sometimes.”

“I know what you mean.” You answered.

You felt yourself tense. You and Harry had grown close since you’d met not too long ago, but you weren’t sure what to do in moments like this. Moments where he spoke seriously to you about the things that were on his mind. It made you want to open up to him, too, but you couldn't bring yourself to. You were afraid that once you did you would scare him away and you'd never see him again. And you couldn't imagine a world that didn't have him in it.

But it felt good to be that person he confided in, and you wondered if he ever had these conversations with anyone else. Did he save all those things that kept him up at night for your ears only? He smiled, noticing your discomfort.

“Sorry.” He said, chuckling to himself. His knuckles turned white, his hands tightening around the leather of the steering wheel. “I just mean that it doesn’t feel like that with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin’.”

“What did you say?”

“I just like how it feels with you.”

You couldn’t help the goofy laugh this time, coming out to take up all the space in the small car around you. You chanced a glance in his direction, Harry’s eyes still trained on the road ahead of him but a shy smile visible in his profile.

“Was that weird to say?” He asked. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him no, no, no. It wasn’t weird. You wanted to hear him say it again to you. You wanted it in writing. You wanted him to say it again and again until the words started to sound funny. You could only giggle, still not used to the way it felt to be in his presence. Everything was a daydream. The sunset around you painted everything light pink. It was a rose-tinted evening.

Harry laughed along with you, scoffing at you for your lack of response. “Forget I said it!” He squeaked. You both only laughed harder.

“No!” You were able to shout out eventually, wiping the tears out of the corner of your eyes. “No. It wasn’t weird. I feel the same way.”

“You always laugh when you’re nervous.” Harry pointed out.

“Sorry.”

“No, I like it.”

Harry’s hand reached over, tucking the hair tickling your cheek behind your ear.

///

Early December, 2018

One Year Ago

You and Harry had tucked yourself away upstairs like an old box of hand-me-down clothes. You stayed there so long that you forgot there were even other people in the house, the noises of the party below you not nearly enough of a distraction to tear your attention away from the way Harry looked tonight.

You were so in love with him.

You were infatuated and silly and soft for him and all of the other things that you never wanted to be for a man. You tried not to be, but it was impossible. Especially when he looked at you the way he was right now, like you were the only person alive that he had any interest in talking to.

You hadn’t seen Harry in a month or two, strictly because of a conflict of your busy schedules, and you had been literally counting down the days for this moment right here for weeks now. It was better than you dreamed, seeing him again. (And you had dreamt about it). Being in the same room as him somehow made you feel peaceful and nervous and dizzy and calm and everything else all at one time. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. Seeing him now made your fingers tremble when you tried to pluck at the guitar he’d set in your lap.

“It’s not much yet, but I feel pretty good about it so far.” You told him, cheeks burning with all the adoration and embarrassment like that of some giddy school-girl crush. He was laid out on his stomach, head propped up on his hands. He just nodded, giving you a reassuring smile the way he always did. You didn’t want to play anything for him, let alone sing, but he had insisted on it. “You have such a nice voice.” He’d hummed, eyes closed. You were only telling him a story about tour, about how you had seen one girl pass out right in the front row. You furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you talking about?” You’d asked him, laughing but only to cover the fact that you were stumbling over your words.

“I just like listening to you talk, s’all.” He explained. You both were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, the lamp on his night stand making it so every surface in the room looked warm and freshly baked. You were facing each other in a criss-cross, his knees nearly touching yours every time he bent over in a laugh. He made you feel like you were actually funny, always giggling at the things you said even when you weren’t trying to make a joke.

You hadn’t known what to say to that, so you just squeaked out a “Thanks?” before continuing in your story. Once you were done Harry leaned forward again, this time his knees fully pressing into yours.

“Will you sing for me?” He asked you. Instantly you started blushing, thanking the low light of his bedroom for doing what it could to hide that fact. You had tried for a while now to forget about the crush you’d had on Harry since you were a preteen, and it worked for the most part. But nights like this, nights when he snuck you away at his own party and whispered to you about all the gossip he’d heard recently and asked you to sing to him in that voice… It was impossible to ignore it.

“Noooooo…” You told him, shaking your head quickly. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m shy!”

“I’ve been to like three of your shows! I’ve heard you sing before!”

“That’s different…”

He rolled his eyes, leaning away so that his knees pulled away from yours. You could still feel, even just through his knees caps that had barely kissed yours, his body heat seeping into you. It made your heart flutter and your eyes will to close, just so you could enjoy it.

“Well, I like it when you sing.” He huffed, pulling his knees up to his chest now. “And anyway, I think you’re cute when you’re shy. So it won’t bother me at all.”

“I’m gonna mess up.” You further reasoned, leaning back onto the palms of your clammy hands. You could see headlights flashing through his bedroom window on your right, probably people leaving. The soft light lit up Harry's profile, making him look like some kind of angel on Earth. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed since you’d both come up here but you guessed it had been long enough now that people were starting to head home for the night. Tires crunched outside like white noise. Harry had missed almost the entire party, upstairs here with you.

You couldn’t even really feel bad for taking up so much of his time, because he was sitting here in front of you looking the way he did and calling you cute. He always did that, but you knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He called Logan’s new clothes “cute”, too, when she’d show off a new outfit. He called your handwriting “cute” when he’d snuck a glance into one of your songwriting journals. He always said stuff like that, but only because he was trying to be nice. That didn't make it tingle any less, though.

“You mean to say you can sing for thousands of people every night but you can’t sing for me? There’s not even anyone else here!” Harry begged, throwing his hands around in his debate. “Just one song and then I’ll leave you alone about it.”

“It’s different singing for you.” You admitted, cheeks pained by how hard you were blushing.

“Why?”

“Because I get nervous around you.”

“Why would I make you nervous, Y/N?”

You knew why, but you couldn’t say that. Because he was him. Because you were totally knee-deep in love with him and he had no idea. Because he said your name that way he did.

You just shook your head, not wanting to answer. He raised an eyebrow which forced you to grumble a short “Because!”, which did very little to satisfy him. He leaned forward, gesturing for you to give him your hand. You did so without hesitating, discreetly wiping your sweaty palm on the carpet behind you. He held you by your fingers in the way you do when you’re about to kiss someone’s knuckles.

“Why would I make you nervous?” He asked again. For the foggiest second it seemed like he knew why, and just wanted to hear you say it. But that was insane and you knew it. You were imagining things, pining after him so badly that you were looking for any and all indications that he might actually feel the same way. You knew he didn’t, but it still crossed your lovestruck mind.

“Because you’e Harry Fucking Styles, that’s why.” You decided on saying, knowing how much he hated it when you called him that. You got the reaction you wanted out of him, a low, rattling groan coming straight through his chest as he threw his head back in exasperation. He pinched his eyes closed as he dropped your hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I wish you would stop calling me that already.” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re one of my best friends and it makes me feel weird when you say that. It’s just me, okay? Just Harry, without the rest.”

But that was exactly the problem. He was just Harry. He was Harry, who let you paint his toenails pink when he sat backstage with you before your show in Memphis. He was just Harry, who ordered you your favorite drink at restaurants without even having to ask what you wanted. He was Harry, who every once in a while would touch your arm or your hand or your waist in passing and make your entire body heat up. He was Harry, who made you want to turn yourself completely inside out and back again whenever he made eye contact with you. That was the problem.

“Okay, fine.” You moaned, pulling at the bags under your eyes as you ran your now unheld hands down your face. “But just one!”

That was when he flipped himself around onto this stomach, eyes looking up at you as if he was seeing stars for the first time. Your bones felt hollow and light, and you wanted him so badly to reach out and touch you again just so you wouldn’t float away. Your day-dream head was filled with all of the little things you liked so much about Harry, and you worried genuinely as you looked at him that you might lift off of the ground and bump your brain into the ceiling.

You fiddled with the strings, plucking random notes here and there before subconsciously stumbling across an old, familiar melody. It must have been locked somewhere in your brain and dragged out by sitting here with him. You tried not to smirk at yourself, knowing Harry wanted you to sing one of the songs he always bugged you about that you scribbled into the off-yellow pages of your notebook. You couldn’t let him pull them out of you that easily, though.

“It’s not much yet, but I feel pretty good about it so far.” You said, taking a deep breath in as if you were nervous. (You were nervous, but not because you were singing some song no one had ever heard before). You started strumming, noticing right away when Harry’s brows scrunched with recognition.

“Baby I, I wanna know

What you think when you’re alone.

Is it me, yeah?

Are you thinking of me, yeah?”

Harry, who had been propped up on his hands in childlike excitement, rolled over onto his back as soon as the first line came out of your mouth. He kicked his feet in a tantrum, but you acted as if you didn’t notice. (It was funny, because in some weird way, that night had been the first time you would ever call Harry “baby”. If you counted that…)

“We’ve been friends,

Now for a while.

Wanna know that when you smile,

Is it me, yeah?

Are you thinking of me, yeah?”

Harry’s hands flopped onto the ground, his chin tipping towards the ceiling so that he could barely see you through his brows.

“You’re teasing me.” He moped, though you could see a small lop-sided grin forming across his face. But how could you not tease him right now, especially when it made him smile like that? Singing one of his old One Direction songs to him was something you had always wanted to do but never had the chance to, and the opportunity was simply too good to pass up. “Last First Kiss” just so happened to be the first song that came to mind, for some weird reason…

“Girl what would you do?

Would you wanna stay?

If I were to sayyyyy….”

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head at you. You got to the chorus, triumphantly strumming the chords you had ingrained in your very bones since adolescence. Harry gave up on being grumpy, realizing he wouldn’t be getting what he wanted today, letting his eyes fall shut as he started singing with you.

You weren’t sure why, but he looked so different when his eyes were closed. Maybe it was because you had the chance to appreciate all the other parts of his face when you weren’t so distracted by his gaze. You watched him sing a song he had probably long forgotten, his eye brows pinching and his mouth opening sideways the way it always did when he really sang with his chest. He almost looked like he was remembering something, something he hadn’t thought about in a long, long time.

Eventually you stopped singing without realizing it, letting Harry take it away like only he could.

“And if yoooou

only kneeeeew…”

Once the chorus was over you stopped strumming, setting the guitar down next to Harry laid out on the floor. His legs were bent at just the right angle so that the headlights outside flashed just the tops of his knees.

“So what do you think?” You asked him then, a teasing smile on your face. “Do you think it should go on my new album? I worked really hard on that one.”

“It’s decent, I guess.” He smirked, “Sounds kind of familiar, though.”

“Sampled some of it from this old band…” You carried on, crossing your arms. “They’re, like, super underground though, so you’ve probably never heard of them.”

Harry let out a soft chuckle, the sound like an earthquake that was threatening to bring your entire foundations to its knees. He flipped himself back over onto his stomach, moving himself even closer to you in the process surely without meaning to. He looked up at you, his hands flat on the floor as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“What made you think to play that song?” He asked, his face soft and expectant. His eyes blinked up at you. It wasn’t exactly the reaction you were going for so you just shrugged your shoulders.

“Dunno.” You croaked, heartbeat tightening your throat. His fingertips were barely touching your criss-crossed leg, but that didn’t seem intentional. Even still, it made you want to take flight and sail away. “I just thought of it, I guess.”

He just stared at you for a second, looking back and forth between both of your irises as if he wanted to say something else.

“I haven’t listened to that one in a long time…” He finally breathed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. It was almost like he was steering you somewhere else with this line of questioning, but you weren’t sure where to follow it.

“It was the first song I ever learned to play on the guitar.” You admitted, Harry finally cracking a smile then.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I watched this girl on Youtube play it like a million times. I practiced it every day after school until my mom made me stop.” You shared, feeling that same release of tension you always did when you shared something about yourself with Harry. You had always been so worried to do that before, but now it seemed easy. Whenever you did, he gave you this wide, starry-eyed gaze like he really cared about what you had to say. He was doing in right now, actually.

“That’s adorable.” He said through a smirk. You could tell he wanted to tease you about it, but he stopped himself. “What’s your mom got against good music?”

You lit up, a giggle traveling up your spine and making your nose wrinkle. “Nothing! She loves One Direction. She’s probably your biggest fan.”

It was embarrassing, but it was true. She knew just as much about Harry as you did, always buying you any magazine she saw on her weekly trips to Target that had their faces on them just because she knew it would make you smile.

“I think she just got tired of listening to the same song every night. And I wasn’t very good at it, either, so that didn’t help” You added with a grin. Harry shook his head.

“I wish I could’ve heard you sing it then.” He smiled.

You snickered at that, shaking your head. “No, I promise you don’t. Even my mom didn’t like it and she’s supposed to like everything I do. Think I ruined the song for her.”

“You might have ruined it for me, too.” Harry sighed, moving to sit up again to resume your previous positions. “But in a good way.”

You smiled, even if you weren’t sure what he meant by that. Probably that now he would always listen to it and remember you poking fun at him, not that it sounded like he listened to it very often. You weren’t sure what else he could have been implying.

“You know my mom cried when Zayn left the band.” You carried on, wanting to keep the conversation going so Harry didn’t have a chance to gauge your shaken-up reactions to what he was saying. “I came home from school and told her the news and she was so upset my dad had to send her upstairs to go calm down.”

You left out the detail that you cried that day, too, walking out of your science class.

“She sounds like someone I would like to meet.” Harry laughed. “She seems lovely.”

“You’d like her, I think.” You smiled, imagining a scenario where Harry would actually come home to meet you parents. Not that he ever would. Still, you wondered if he would like them. You knew your mom would embarrass you somehow, and you couldn’t even imagine Harry’s reaction to walking into your old bedroom and finding his face still plastered across your walls. “She’d be over the moon about it.” You told him, meaning it so genuinely.

You couldn’t wait to go home and call her, just to tell her about this conversation. “All the hours of practice finally paid off,” you imagined saying to her about the song you’d sang just now that she’d been forced to listen to for hours on end. “And Harry Styles thinks you sound lovely.”

“I’m sure I would.” Harry agreed. “I look forward to it.”

The door swung open, drowning out all of the butterflies and heated cheeks and heart palpitations that had filled the space around you. Logan was standing there, hair frizzing and eyes wide. She was practically panting, an open-mouth smile on her face.

“Best. Party. Ever!” She exclaimed, rushing into the room with sloppy feet. She plopped herself down, kicking out her legs to form a literal boundary in the space between you and Harry. “You guys missed everything!”

She collapsed back onto the floor, arms outstretched to her sides as if she was sacrificing herself to the intensity of the night. LA suited her well. Harry smiled at her appreciatively but threw one glance over to you that held something unspoken in it as Logan recounted the evening’s events in great detail.

“What were you guys even doing up here, anyway?” She suddenly questioned, you and Harry literally not getting a word in edgewise since she’d barged into your moment. “Hm?” She raised both her eyebrows in suggestion toward you, making no effort to hide the gesture from Harry. He let out a little, boyish giggle.

“She was singing!” Harry answered for you, pointing to the guitar still on the floor.

Logan stuck out her lower lip. “Oh.” She huffed, unimpressed. "Sounds boring."

///

December 9, 2019.

Two days after Margot’s party.

Harry was spotted walking around downtown, his hands shoved into his pockets with his chin shoved down into his chest to avoid the camera’s lens. He was wearing a black baseball hat and track pants, bundled up in a puffy yellow coat.

You hadn’t seen the pictures on purpose, you swear. You hadn’t allowed yourself to search his name in that inviting little bar at the top of the screen, stopping yourself every time you opened Twitter as it had become somewhat of a habit.

This time, you just happened to see the pictures by some rotten stroke of bad luck. It was your choice, though, that you stopped to look at them.

The past two days had been spent primarily in bed or at Bethany’s office. You woke up, went to work, and then came back and sat in the same space. Your bedside table was stacked with dirty dishes and a pack of Logan’s cigarettes you’d taken to smoking the last few days just to give you something to do. If you could just go to Anders’s house then at least you would have something to rearrange or organize or clean. Cleaning your own house just didn’t hit the same, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it anyway once your bed had set its sights on you.

You scrolled through the pictures, brain and body numb as you took in what you had seen a million times in a million different ways. The same cheekbones. The same chin. The same ears.

You zoomed in and out around different features. You looked into the background, trying to figure out what store he was coming out of or what restaurant he was on his way to. You looked at the seams of his jacket, even. You looked at what little you could see of his face.

The last picture was the only one where you could see his entire face clearly. He was looking up at something, his eyebrows furrowed with his mouth opened in a half-formed word. You could see his little bunny rabbit teeth. You wondered who he was talking to…

You zoomed in on all the details. The creases on the back of his fingers. The hairs that stuck out and flipped over the edge of his hat, just above his temple. And it was as you were staring at this particular photo that you spotted the phone in his hand, screen lit up either by notification or maybe an accidental touch.

You zoomed in, recognizing the moment immediately that was immortalized via his lock screen. You knew that picture. It wasn’t that long ago that the photo had been taken, but it felt like ages and decades and miles and galaxies had passed since then. It was that day you’d spent in bed all morning and into the afternoon and into the next day, wrapped up in comforters and talking about everything and nothing. You talked about planting flowers. About running away.

It was the morning he said he wanted to marry you. The morning you talked about the farm.

It was you, sat up amongst the crisp white of your comforter, wrinkles memorized into the fabric from hours and hours of doing nothing but laying around. You had thrown on one of Harry’s shirts because you’d gotten cold…

You knew the picture because he showed it to you after he’d taken it. You pulled the shirt over your head, one eye squinted half shut and hair sticking up at every angle around your sleepy, love drunk head. You had a half grin on your face when he’d surprised you by taking that picture. He’d flipped his phone around, giggling proudly. You grumbled to him, something about not taking a picture when you hadn’t showered yet, but he didn’t care.

“Jus’ want to remember this.” He’d told you, mouth forming a half-baked, tired grin.

“I’d rather you forget.” You groaned back at him, tossing a pillow into his shoulder. “Delete it.”

“If you insist.” He sighed. He threw his phone down onto the bed, leaning forward so that his hands cupped your cheeks. “You seem kind of grumpy for someone who just had sex twice.”

You blushed, trying not to smile.

“I’m not grumpy…” You swore, your words cut off when Harry’s lips melted against yours. It was lazy and it was soft and it was beautiful. You didn’t remember why you were in a bad mood, maybe because you were thinking about leaving Harry to go on tour, but nonetheless all the grumpiness went away once he was on you again. You remembered it so clearly, every detail and sound of fabric rubbing against fabric as you fell into the bed with Harry tucked between your patted legs.

“Forever, sunflower.” Harry moaned against you, repeating what he’d sworn to you just that morning. You didn’t respond, wrapping your arms tighter around the back of his neck. “No matter what.”

You blinked hard, forcing yourself back into the present moment. In the same bed. The same sheets. The same amount of sunlight seeping in.

It was that picture of you, from that morning, set as his lock screen. No one else would be able to tell, probably, it just looked like any other girl. But you knew it was you.

You closed your phone, laying onto your back because you weren’t even going to try to stop the tears anymore. You surrendered to them as fully as you had surrendered to him once upon a time. Some amount of time passed before it stopped and you rolled onto your side as if nothing had even happened at all, cheek against moist pillow case.

Cry, roll over, sleep, cry again, look at your phone. You didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. You could force yourself to eat, but you weren’t hungry. You could go take a shower, but that seemed like a lot of effort. All there was to do was scroll through Instagram to watch everyone’s lives unfurl into perfect scenarios that seemed so much better than yours. All there was to do was scroll or sleep or cry or masturbate, and even that seemed like too much work. You’d just end up thinking about him if you tried to do that, anyway.

You gave up, realizing the day had come and gone just like the last one and every day before that. Oh well. You flipped onto your stomach and closed your eyes, face smushed into the mattress so hard your nose hurt. If you could just make yourself fall asleep again you could finally take a break for a few hours and try again tomorrow. Tomorrow you would feel better. You’d even take a shower.

///

You stood on a front porch, a soft orange glow over your head. It looked familiar, but you couldn’t place it. You looked down at your feet, watching them literally melt into the concrete of the front step. You tried to lift them, but you couldn’t.

Someone came out to stand in front of you. You didn’t feel scared, you felt… peaceful. You looked up to find Harry looking down at you smiling the way he always did.

“Where have you been?” You asked him, though you didn’t know why. He put his hands on your face, brushing your eyelids and cheekbones and nose. Soft touches everywhere.

“I was waiting for you.” He answered calmly. You tried to reach out and touch him, only to realize your hands were melted into the brick wall behind you the same way your feet were.

Harry leaned into you, placing a soft kiss onto your upper lip. You smiled against him. Finally, you thought.

He kissed you deeper, but it didn’t taste like him. You tasted… cigarettes? You opened your eyes, pulling up to look at Harry in front of you.

But it was him. In horror, you realized it was Christian you were kissing. You tried to scream but you had no voice. Christian noticed your fear even through your silence.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

He kissed you again, and you couldn’t stop it. This had happened before, you could sense that strange feeling of deja-vu. You tried to push him away but now your entire back was fused to the wall of the house you were in front of. His house.

You kept trying to speak, but nothing came out. It happened exactly like it had before, his hand gripping your face harshly when you tried to look away.

But this time he moved his grip to your sides, moving his hands into your shirt. His hands lifted the fabric, molding to your skin. He gripped your stomach, your hips, your breasts. You couldn’t stop him.

This has happened before, too. It was a memory. He kept kissing you even though you didn’t move your lips along with his. He pressed his hips into you and you could feel all of him against you. He continued palming your breasts and you swore this had happened before.

Finally you ripped your hands from the bricks behind you, shoving them hard against his chest. He barely flinched.

“Harry!” You screamed. You tried to look around but everything beyond the gray front step was pitch black. “Harry!”

No one came.

“Please, Christian. You’re scaring me.” You whined. He took a step back, leaning on the wall opposite you.

“Why, Sunflower? You asked for this.”

///

You shot up in bed, a cold sweat encompassing your body. You threw the covers off, as if worried there were still hands on you somewhere. You panted breathlessly, rubbing your sleepy eyes. Your head was pounding.

What the actual fuck was that?

You collapsed back onto the pillow behind you, gasping for breath. It wasn’t real. You were fine.

But it was all too familiar. It was like you were remembering something. You wired your eyes shut.

“Stop it.” You said out loud, only for you and your ceiling to hear. “No, stop it.”

It wasn’t just a dream. It was real. It happened. It was real.

Wait. Stop. It was only a kiss, that was it. He kissed you and you pushed him away. You’re mind was playing tricks on you. But you could see it so clearly now, you were remembering everything. His hands on you, his hips pressing into yours. The air was cold on your stomach, because your shirt was lifted a little in the front.

“Stop it!” You spoke again, gasping for air. You rubbed your eyes. That part didn’t happen.

But it did, didn’t it? He kissed you and then… and then..

You played back the sequence of events, trying to take in steady breaths through your nose. You remembered him kissing you, you turning your head to get away…

Christian grabbed your face, turning your chin back to him and kissing you again. You regained control over your body, pushing him hard. He stumbled away, barely able to keep from falling to the ground.

That was it.

But it wasn't, was it? You thought harder.

Christian grabbed your face, turning your chin back to him and kissing you again. You regained control over your body, pushing him hard…

No, something happened before that. You knew it did.

Christian grabbed your face, turning your chin back to him and kissing you again.

And you froze, didn’t you? You froze when he grabbed you like that, and you let him kiss you. You let it happen.

And you didn’t pull away. He released his grip on your face, because you didn’t stop him this time, and he moved his hands to your sides. He touched your stomach under your shirt. The air was cold…

His hands moved up your shirt. They started paying at your chest, your back, your ass. And he was still kissing you. He pressed his hips into yours. He was hard against you.

You regained control over your body, pushing him hard. He stumbled away, barely able to keep from falling to the ground.

“What the FUCK?” He yelled.

Oh god. Oh god. No. No, this wasn’t happening. Everything started swirling around your head, faster and faster and faster. Like flashes of light, moving so quickly they eventually made one moving picture.

“I might try it again with her now that she’s good and drunk… all alone with nowhere to go.”

Oh god.

You fumbled for your phone, the light blasting you right in your eyes. You pulled up Safari.

Christian and Y/N, you typed.

Nothing.

Christian and Y/N kiss.

Nothing.

You closed your eyes, trying to think clearly. Bethany and Tom had the images scrubbed from the internet, you’d never find them. You pulled up the contact on your phone before you could stop it, knowing what you had to do.

“Hello?” You heard a sleepy voice. You tried to speak but couldn’t. You took a deep breath, forcing your eyes closed.

“The pictures.” You managed to choke out. “Do you have the pictures?”

There was a silence.

“What pictures, peach?” Bethany answered finally. She yawned loudly in your ear.

“Of me and Christian. You and T-Tom, you scrubbed them didn’t you? You guys still have the pictures somewhere, right?”

You thought you were having a heart attack. Your chest felt so tight you honestly felt scared, like you were about to die.

“I’m sure we have them somewhere, sweet pea. Why do you ask?”

She didn’t seem mad that you woke her up. That was good. You swallowed.

“I need them. P-Please, I need you to find them and send them t-to me. Please.”

She was quiet.

“I don’t understand why I should do that.”

“I need them, Bethany. Now, please.”

You were desperate, so much so that your voice was shaking. Your entire body was shaking, actually.

“I’ll be in the office tomorrow-“

“Bethany I need them now.”

You were sobbing now, harder than you could remember crying in a long time. You choked and sputtered and continued begging, Bethany whispering gently in an attempt to calm you.

“Hey, hey… it’s alright.” She hushed you. “I’ll find them, okay? Give me ten minutes.”

You nodded, not thinking clearly enough to realize she couldn’t see you. Once she hung up you sat up in your bed waiting. You were almost screaming, you were crying so hard.

Logan came tumbling in, flipping on the lights. Her hair was like a halo around her head as you looked at her with wide eyes. She was panicking, jumping into the covers quickly and pressing you into her chest.

“What’s going on?” She gasped, stroking your sweaty hair. You could hear her heart pounding in her chest, you must have scared her. You couldn’t speak, so she just kept making shushing sounds against your hair.

“Is it Harry?” She asked, not pulling away. You shook your head. Not Harry. Harry was safe. Harry was always safe.

“Ch-Christian.” You coughed against her.

“What are you talking about?” You prodded, finally releasing you enough to hold you out in front of her. Her eyes scanned your face. “Please just tell me what happened?”

You shook your head, forcing your eyes shut. Your phone suddenly dinged and you snatched it quickly, the movement making Logan jump in surprise. You unlocked your phone, opening up the pictures. The images filled your screen as you scrolled through them.

“What are you doing?” Logan continued, sounding increasingly more afraid as time went on. You didn’t answer, scrolling to a picture that caught your eye. They were small, and grainy. They were barely visible as it was, but still you zoomed in as far as you could.

“Look!” You said, turning the grainy image around to Logan. “My stomach! You can see it, look!”

She squinted at the screen, then back at you. It was hard to tell with the angle, but it was there. A sliver of your abdomen showing, your shirt lifted in the front. No one would have noticed it if they weren’t looking for it.

“I don’t know what-“ Logan began, confused still.

“My shirt!” You yelled, letting out a heartbroken sob. “My shirt!”

She looked again then locked the phone and set it down. You didn’t fight her, you’d seen enough already. She held you back to her chest.

“My shirt…” You continued blubbering into her. “His hands were in my shirt. He was touching me…”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She tried promising, but it was empty. It wasn’t okay.

“It’s my fault.” You whimpered, your lips feeling numb. Your whole body felt numb. “I let him, it was my fault.. I-I didn’t stop him.”

She kept talking, but you couldn’t hear her. You just shook violently in her hold.

“Do you want me to call Harry?” She asked. She didn’t know what to do, you weren’t calming down. She must have been resorting to desperate measures if she’d ask you that. “Hey, do you want me to call him?”

“No!” You managed to shout, pulling away so you could see her eyes. You needed her to listen. “No! He can’t know about this, he can’t.”

“Y/N, you know he’ll come if I ask him…”

“He can’t know!” You yelled again. She nodded, looking small and afraid. Her bottom lip started to quiver. She wrapped you up again, laying down so that she was holding you against her chest. She stroked the top of your head, whispering soft things to you. You thought you heard her start to sing, but you couldn’t really tell.

You wanted to throw up. You cried so hard it nearly made you gag, air barely makings its way into your lungs. You wanted to claw at your skin, to tear it away in chunks until it all came off. You felt dirty.

You let him do it. He kissed you and you didn't want him to but for some reason you just... froze. You let him kiss you, and then touch you. You let him press his hips into yours. And he was hard.

Harry could never know about this. The one thing that had caused him so much guilt- it was your fault. You let Christian do that to you, and you threw it back in Harry’s face. He could never know.

It was your fault.

///

Sounds of cars driving by. Sounds of the wind in the trees. Sound of Logan playing Christmas music while she made another batch of cookies you wouldn’t eat. Sound of your phone ringing.

Smoking cigarettes was a little too easy now. Who knew it would only take a few days for it to become such an easy habit? Logan didn’t seem to mind that you’d blown through most of her stash, and if she did she didn’t say anything.

Feeling of cold air on your left cheek. Feeling of thick fuzzy socks and that same pink throw blanket thrown over your shoulders. Feeling of the soft outdoor couch underneath you.

Logan had tried to talk to you about what happened a few times the last few days, but you weren’t in the mood. In fact, you hardly spoke at all unless it was declining another baked good she’d brought up to your room. Bethany must have known something was up with you after the other night because even she left you alone.

Taste of nicotine. Taste of toothpaste still in the back of your throat. Taste of things you wanted to say and couldn’t. Taste of shame.

Everything was strangely calm now. It was quiet. All of the things you were feeling kept coming in waves and the tide was pulled away from your shore for now. You didn’t feel anything at all. It was like you were tapped out completely. On the bright side, you weren’t thinking about Harry. You weren’t thinking about anything at all.

Scent of cigarette smoke. Scent of brownies or cookies or maybe muffins inside. Scent of December. Scent of missing home. Scent of the shampoo you couldn’t use anymore, still somehow clinging to your unwashed hair.

You looked around, having gone through all of the other senses. Smell, taste, hearing, touch. It was supposed to make you feel better when you were anxious to list all of those things, to “ground yourself”. It hadn’t done what it was supposed to yet, but you still had one sense left to try out.

You could see the concrete of your back porch. You pinched your eyes shut looking down at it, worried that if you focused too hard on it the cement might swallow you whole the way it had been almost every night while you slept. You tried again, looking out in the distance this time.

You saw trees, leaves rustling so that they looked like tiny pixels flickering on and off. You looked at the sky, how the sun was just starting to set and turn everything that same shape of light pink. It was a rose-tinted evening. You saw one singular bird in the distance.

You roll the end of your finished cigarette between your pointer and thumb, flicking it off to the side. You padded across the small space without looking at your feet to avoid the concrete and slid in like a ghost through the back door. Logan had her hair down in long, golden braids.

“Your hair’s getting so long. It looks so pretty.” You commented, going to sit on a stool seated next to the kitchen island. She smiled but she still just looked sorry for you, oven mitts on her hands as she playfully flicked the braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, me?” She sung, doing a little twirl. You laughed because you knew you were supposed to and leaned onto the counter so that your cheek rested in your bent arm. “I made you snickerdoodles.”

“I’m okay.” You declined.

“But they’re shaped like Christmas trees.”

“I’m really okay, thank you though.”

She sighed, throwing the mitts over to the side with enough force that they almost slid into the cluttered kitchen sink. She crossed her arms.

“I am going to say this to you as a friend. Because I love you.” She began, turning her chin up to the ceiling ever so slightly. She breathed harshly through her nose a few times before blowing the air out of her mouth. “I know that this is a lot to handle right now, and I know that I have no idea what this feels like for you. But if you don’t eat one of these fucking cookies then I’m calling Bethany and your mom and Harry and telling all of them that you’re starving yourself.”

“Logan, stop it-“

“Eat a fucking cookie!” Logan screamed. You jumped, instinctively pushing yourself off of the counter to sit upright again. Logan’s chest heaved up and down, a shaking finger gesturing to the pan on the oven. She started crying no matter how much she tried not to, her body shaking as she tried to be stern with you.

There was nothing else Logan could do to help you right now and she knew that. All she could do was put on Christmas music and put braids in her hair and bake sweet things and try to get you to fucking eat something.

You nodded, standing up and walking over to the tray. You picked up one of the trees that was particularly well tree-shaped, taking one big bite. You smiled at her, because you knew you should, Logan wiping her eyes with the back of her bent wrist. You finished that cookie and then another one, just to make her happy.

///

Harry Styles Tells All: Fine Line, Having Sex, and Being Sad

Article By Chance Carter. December 10, 2019.

Carter: So what can you tell us about the album? It’s only a few days out now, I’m sure you’re pretty excited.

Styles: I am, I am. For sure. Um, yeah. The album is something I’m really proud of and I’ve been looking forward to having everyone hear it for a long time now.

Carter: So what can you tell us about it so far? From what we’ve heard, it seems to be a bit of a breakup album. Would you say so?

Styles: Erm, no. Not really. I mean, I think we all write from personal experience, so obviously I’m going to talk about the things I’ve been through. But I wouldn’t call it a break up album, no.

Carter: Well is that something you’ve gone through recently? A breakup?

Styles pauses, contemplation set on his face.

Styles: No. Not recently.

Carter: Allow me to ask about Y/N, then, because there’s been a lot of speculation about the two of you in recent months. Care to set the record straight?

Styles: Set it straight about what, exactly?

Carter: About the two of you. Were you a couple?

Styles shakes his head, eyes angling down to his lap for a split second before recovering.

Styles: No, we weren’t.

Carter: I see. There just seems to be a lot of conversation surrounding your friendship. Fans think she wrote her song “Carnival” about you, have you heard that?

Styles: I have, yeah. (He clears his throat, scratching the tip of his nose.) But I can’t be the one to say if there’s any truth to that. She’s an amazing songwriter and I… uh, I admire her immensely. If she was going to write a song about me I’m sure it would be incredible. But we were never a couple, so it wouldn’t really make sense for that song to be about me. (He pauses again, shrugging his shoulders. His face flashes with a rehearsed, superstar smile.) Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, though. It’s an incredible song. But we’re only friends.

Carter: Feels like the two of you have been saying that for quite a while now, haven’t you?

Styles: A long time. Yeah.

Carter: And there’s no chance that she might have feelings for you that you don't know about? You are Harry Styles, after all, I’m sure you have no short supply of admirers.

Styles: I’m not going to speak on her in that way. She is a human being. (Harry shakes his head, visibly upset by the question.) Y/N is lovely and she is talented and smart and she is really, really kind. Whoever she is writing her songs about would be lucky to know her. Anyone would be lucky to know her. (Out of the collar of Styles’ shirt falls a thin, silver necklace. His hands come up as he continues to speak, ringed fingers tracing along the flower-shaped pendant.) But I’m not going to entertain whatever you’re implying the same way we haven’t entertained anyone else’s implications. She could, I’m sure, provide a wonderful interview for you and she could share as much insight into her album as she’s comfortable with. It isn’t my place to do that.

Carter: I understand what you mean. What else can you tell us about the album, then?

#blacking out and breaking hearts #bobh #harry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles au #fine line #love on tour #Harry styles self insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles series #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction fic #one direction au #hslot #hs2 #hs1

[egg-on-the-run]

Massage

The turtle's s/o is exhausted, they help make things better with a massage.

(she/her pronouns used)

Leonardo

She's already asleep in his bed when he comes home from patrol. Usually she waits for him on the couch, even when she was tired, but Splinter had specifically told him she was already asleep, warned him to do his best not to wake her up.

She must be exhausted.

He tiptoes in as quietly as he could after his shower, spots her lying flat on his bed: not tucked in, just lying atop his blankets on her stomach. She had been too tired to lift the sheets.

He can see how tense she is, can see the way how even in her sleep her shoulders still rise to her ears, how her finger twitches with an anxious need to keep moving. Her face scrunched up slightly, adorable, but he would rather it be relaxed and soft.

He's careful and slow moving her onto the bed properly, still not setting her under the covers just yet. He's even more careful when he straddles her legs, keeps his weight off them almost entirely. His hands start at her lower back, kneading into her very softly.

She jolts and eyes snap open, "What are you doing?"

"I uh, I was giving you a massage, you look tense, even in your sleep."

"Oh," She relaxes, "You're an angel, just scared me a little." Her head hits the pillow again, already drifting off.

He tries once more, hands softly pressing into her lower back. She lets out a breath of air, sinking further into the mattress. He continues, travelling further up her spine. Usually he hates the sound of bones cracking (all of his brothers teased him constantly about it), but tonight he was quite happy to hear little pops coming from her spine. He especially didn't mind when she gave a little moan afterwards.

His hands travel further up towards her shoulders, kneading and rolling his wrists into the dozens of knots in her back. Her shoulders were so tense that she whined whenever he was too rough. He had to be gentle, working them out slowly.

By the time he was finished, she was sleepily trying to reach his hand with her eyes closed.

"Cuddle me," She mumbled as she found his hand, "Pretty please? I've got tomorrow off."

"Of course," He replied, moving to help her under the sheets, "That was the plan anyway."

He pulled her tight against his chest, hearing her bones crack once more as she melted like putty in his hands. He kissed her forehead.

"Thank god you've got tomorrow off, I'll let you sleep in as long as you want." He sighed, relaxing himself, "I'll make sure the lair is quiet."

She didn't hear a word of what he said, she was already fast asleep.

Raphael

Raphael was the king of tension. He wasn't like Michelangelo where little bothered him, or like Donatello who had those random self care days, or even like Leonardo who learned to de-stress through meditation. Oh no, Raphael carried tension like a mother with a clingy child: pulling on his shoulders, weighing him down and making him irritated.

It came with the whole anger thing.

So there have been countless times where she has used her knuckles to work the knots out of his shoulders. It was no easy task, especially when she had to use most of her body weight to actually get through each and every knot.

But she'd do it a hundred times more if he needed her to, and Raphael knew that, knew it all to well.

So when he sees her already grumbling to herself at the latest email that just came through to her laptop, when he see her shoulders rising to her ears in frustration and hands balling into fists, he knew he had to do the same thing for her as she had done countless times for him.

She jumps when he first puts his hands on her shoulders, but recognises the warm touch shortly after.

"What are you doing?" She asked, one hand reaching up to rest on top of his, she kept her attention glued to her screen, "I have a lot of work to do, Raphie."

"I know," He said, beginning to knead into her shoulders, "Just a massage, you look stressed."

"Oh with that lovely email, I am more than stressed."

She's always had a sharp tongue, never directed it to him (never intentionally) but he knows her patience is wearing thin and work certainly wasn't helping. He thought about taking his hands away entirely, not wanting to pester her; but she ran her thumb across his hand, typed with only one set of fingers, and Raphael remembered how often she did this for him when his patience was thinner than a piece of paper.

He pressed his hands into her shoulders again, watched as her head leaned back and body moved with his hands. He knew the feeling, when the knots were so tight they just hurt. He continued to work his hands into her shoulders, and slowly it seemed to stop hurting and the tension started to melt away. She closed her eyes, pushed her laptop away from her and just let herself be for a moment.

"Those big ol' hands of yours," She said, voice more like a breath, "So gentle with me."

"Not like you, using your damn elbows to get the knots out."

"But does it work?" She laughed.

He chuckled, "Of course it works, you're the best at this."

"Oh I dunno, you might give me a run for my money, this feels like heaven right now." Her head rolled to the side, turning slightly to kiss his hand, "Take me to bed Raphie, please."

With one final squeeze he let go, moving his arms to wrap around her waist and carry her to bed. Work wasn't important, this was.

Donatello

The lair was far too noisy, Donatello's lab was far too bright. Everything was just too much, all at once. Even as she sat on his desk, the reflection of his computer in his glasses from behind her was glaring into her eyes. He sat between her legs, arms around her waist and rambling about — god, she didn't even know at this point. She'd spaced out long ago, too overwhelmed to even try and catch up.

He moved his head at he spoke, Donatello was always an expressive fellow, and the light bounced off his glasses right into her eyes. She squinted, scrunched her entire face up and groaned.

"You have a migraine," He said plainly, "I have some painkillers in my drawer—"

"I took some earlier, they just haven't kicked in yet." She frowned.

She looked in pain, Donatello hated to see her like this, hated when there wasn't anything he could do.

He reached up and cupped her face, "Have you had enough water today?"

"Yeah," She mumbled, "Been using that new water bottle I got."

"When did you last eat?"

"Went out for dinner with some coworkers."

Donnie hummed, not knowing what else could cause her such a migraine. They usually had a reason behind them, she didn't usually just get them randomly. He wondered if she'd be on her phone too much, not to sound like Splinter, but she's been talking to him for the past hour or so, her eyes should have rested by now.

She pushed her cheek into his hand, letting his hand squish the chub on her face. Donatello squeezed gently, rubbing her cheeks in a circular motion.

"What are you doing?" She asked, voice muffled by his hands.

"Massaging your face," He replied, moving to knead her cheekbones with his thumbs, "Maybe it's tension that's brought this on."

"Maybe..."

He moved his thumbs over the bridge of her nose and followed the shape of her eyebrows, he repeated the action a few times before gently rubbing her temples.

"You're really good at this..." She murmured, eyes closed and jaw slack. Her face was no long scrunched up, but instead so completely relaxed she looked as though she was already asleep. Donatello persisted, using his thumbs to move the tension away from her face. His hands moved to her hair, grasping tightly and then releasing, he tickled his fingers through her locks: slowly so as not to pull on any tangles.

By the time he'd moved back to her jaw, he was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep where she sat. He smiled softly at her, kissed her forehead, and carried her off to bed.

He needed an early night as well.

Michelangelo

She had been on her feet all day, running errands for a coworker who had recently hurt their leg. Said coworker was fine, and would be perfectly capable of putting of such errands until their leg was better (really, Mikey huffed, using his girlfriend like a servant). But she could never just say no, and even after she'd ran around the city collecting bits and bops, dropping off items and buying groceries, her coworker hadn't even offered her so much as a sit down before he not-so-subtly led her out of his apartment.

So she came stumbling to the lair, exhausted and drained beyond compare and ready to collapse but still so eager to see her darling Mikey. He was in the shower when she arrived, she knew because Raphael told her, and because she could hear his singing before she'd even arrived.

She dragged herself to his bed, kicking her shoes off and not even caring where she left them. She collapsed to her knees before she could crawl under the blankets, lying surprisingly comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, hey angel! What are you doing down here?" Mikey's cheerful voice woke her up, along with a little shake of her shoulder. "We snoozing on the floor now?"

"So tired..." She mumbled, eyes fluttering closed, "Carry me to bed."

"No problem, the whole five feet distance it is." Mikey chuckled. He picked her up, sliding her onto his bed, careful not to bump her head on Raphael's top bunk. "All those errands huh? Guy owes you a thanks at least."

"Jackass kicked me out before I could even sit down at his place," She glared at the mattress above her, "So rude."

"Uh, totes rude? My girl did all that for him and he doesn't even let you sit down? Jackass is a very nice way to describe him." Mikey smiled at her, "Your poor little feet must be sore after all that running around."

"I think my ankles are swollen."

"Just a little." He teased, moving to sit between her legs. He took one of her legs and squeezed firmly along her calves. His hands slid down to her ankles and he frowned: they were slightly swollen, he had only been joking but turns out he was right. He rolled her ankle for her, moved her foot so that it pointed and then helped stretch her heel. He squeezed her calf one more time before moving on to her other leg.

"You're so sweet," She babbled, "Thank you for taking care of me."

"No problem babe, somebody has to," He laughed, "And it's not hard work."

She smiled at him, eyes struggling to stay open. He smiled back at her, not that she could see him, and softly told her to go to sleep; he'd take care of her.

#this post was made by: someone who wants to be held #this post was also made by: someone who hates proof reading sorry #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt x female reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse x reader #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt 2k16 #female reader #title: massage

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥

Hi everyone! As promised, here’s one of the two most voted fic continuations. There will be more chapters to this story though I'm not sure how many yet. Thank you for reading!

warnings: sugar daddy jae, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv

Sugar rush m.list.

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the quiet hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

The machine monitoring your father’s heartbeat was the only sound filling the hospital room, where your once healthy father laid unconscious, his perfect, chiseled cheeks adorned with cuts and bruises. Would they leave a mark?

Where did everything go wrong?

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

Your string of thoughts was cut off by a call from your aunt.

“Hello?” Your voice was raspy from not using it. There was no one to talk to in the quiet, hospital room but the nurses, who weren't especially keen on chatting.

“How’s your dad, sweetie?”

“They let him out of ICU, but he doesn't look good to me.” Your fingers traced the cuts in his chiseled cheeks that would soon turn into scars, ruining his perfect skin. Your eyes then diverted to his head, thoroughly covered in bandages to protect his damaged skull.

“Honey, I've got bad news...”

“They rejected the case, didn't they?”

“Not precisely.” She deeply inhaled before continuing. “It’s a tough case, almost impossible to win, nonetheless, they're willing to take it. But their fee is a little...”

“Expensive.”

“Yes.”

As expected from the best firm in town, they wouldn't take less than $8,000. Your bank account didn't have enough money to even cover half of it, and with your job at the convenience store, you'd only earn so much to cover your expenses.

“We can take the lawyer that the government provides us with, it would be free.”

“But then I'm sure we’d lose.” You groaned in frustration, using your free hand to rub your forehead. “Don’t worry, I'll find a way to get the money.”

“Why don't we just accept the compensation they're offering? It could pay for the hospital bills and you'd still have some left to pay for your tuition.”

“That would be like putting a price on my father's life. I don't want their money, I want them to make themselves responsible for what they've caused.” The sound of wheels approached the door of your father's room, signaling the nurse was outside with his meds. “It’s okay, Auntie, I'll take care of everything. You can go back home, I know my uncle isn't doing so well.”

“Are you sure, darling?” It was undeniable that she wanted to head back to her little ranch fat away from the hectic city life to take care of her sick husband, but still, her brother was laying down on a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

“Yes, I'm an adult, I'll find a way.”

“Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to call me if you're having any difficulties. I'll be there in the blink of an eye.” She said before sending a kiss into the speaker, proceeding to hang up.

You sighed. It was never usual for you to ask for help, as you were an extremely prideful and independent person, and you doubted this time would be different.

“Don’t worry, dad. Everything will be alright.”

Three failed job interviews and one more to go. Your feet were killing you, the high heels covering them already worn out from walking to avoid taking the bus. Every penny counted, and as long as your legs worked, you weren't spending any more money than what was necessary.

You sat down in the waiting room of the company, massaging your neck to relieve some tension. College was becoming a burden. Maybe you'd take a semester off to focus on working, that is if someone wanted to hire an inexperienced student.

“Y/n, Y/l/n?”

“Here.” You darted up, gathering your belongings to enter the room on which your life almost literally depended.

You gave all the right answers, earning a polite ‘we’ll contact you’ in return. But you could see that they weren't convinced with your lack of experience, no company in their right mind would be.

As soon as you arrived at your apartment, you slid out of the uncomfortable pencil skirt, tucking yourself under the covers with your phone screen almost hitting your nose.

To take your mind off things, you decided to watch some videos. Halfway in, an ad popped up, interrupting the interior deco video you were watching.

A picture of a girl about your age hugging an older man was right in the middle of your screen. Written with fancy letters, the words ‘make your life simpler’ could be read, followed by what you guessed was the title of the app. Sugar rush.

Out of pure curiosity, your finger tapped at the small icon that led to the app store, absentmindedly clicking the download button. A few seconds later, an icon with the letters ‘SR’ was added to your home screen.

“Log in?” You murmured out loud, squinting your eyes to adjust your eyes to the bright, white homepage.

Just as you were about to click out, the phrase from the ad reappeared, stopping your finger from moving any further.

You could always delete your account if something went wrong, right? Nonetheless, you decided to use a false name, and that's how Melanie Kim’s profile was created. You left the circle of your profile picture empty for now, only filling the spaces that asked about your likes, dislikes, age, and all that stuff that people care about so much.

You knew what the app was for, but that didn't stop you from being surprised when a list of men and women of different ages greeted you. Right then, a small rectangle obstructed your sight, two buttons offering opposite things.

‘Pick the role you'd like to develop.’

Sugar daddy/mommy / Sugar baby.

Clearly, you didn’t have nor the money or the years to be the first, so you clicked the opposite button without giving it more thought.

‘Welcome. You've been registered as a sugar baby at Sugar rush. Meet thousands of men and women willing to finance you for free!’

You hummed.

‘As we're always looking to make our users’ experience better, we've developed Sugar Rush premium, a membership to meet the richest and hottest people in your surroundings. Get the premium version for only $5.95 a month. Click here to get Sugar Rush premium.’

Your finger pad was dangerously close to the blue button, almost grazing the screen of the phone. It was then when you were pulled out of your trance, blinking as if just then you'd realized what you were doing.

“I must be crazy.” You turned off your phone, not bothering to turn on an alarm for the next day. You had no interviews left. You had nowhere to go.

Waking up was getting harder with every passing day. Not being able to call your dad to go out for breakfast or even sending a simple good morning message hurt you deeply. You missed him. But seeing him laying down on a hospital bed, unable to do anything by himself, was even worse.

Ding

A notification filled the silence in your room.

‘Come back, you haven't finished setting up your account yet!’

You scoffed at your past self. What were you even thinking when you downloaded the app?

You simply turned off the phone before standing up to take a relaxing shower. As the water soaked up your tense body, your mind started wandering off back to the app. A million what-ifs filled your head, nonetheless, there was one that remained the most persistent.

‘What if this can pay for a lawyer?’

Your part-time job surely couldn't, and you had no one to assist you financially speaking. The whole idea of paying that ridiculous membership seemed more tempting as your fingers started getting wrinkly under the showerhead.

You decided to take some time to consider it, after all, you still had a week to give the lawyers an answer.

Hot soup seemed like a good option to comfort you, and thankfully, there was a store right in front of your place that claimed to sell the best soups in town.

It wasn't bad, but not nearly as good as the one your dad cooked when you were a kid. You sighed, wondering if you'd ever be able to eat it again. Just then, a woman about your age came into the shop, carrying a couple of bags where names of popular brands could be read. A pinch of jealousy made your heart stir as you glanced at yourself through the reflection in the glass at your side. You looked devastated, your skin pale and your cheekbones slightly sunken, a sign of the lack of rest and food you'd been getting.

Out of pure impulse, you pulled out your phone, clicked on the app you'd recently downloaded, and finally accepted the charges for a premium membership.

‘Welcome, new member of our wide community, click ok to get started!’

Well, no turning back now.

Right after pressing the blue letters with your thumb, you were presented with a list of potential prospects, some of them including pictures, some of them only including name and a brief description of what they were looking for. The minority included their ages, but most left the space blank.

A bunch of old men looking for a youthful, pretty woman to be by their sides, some of them even went as far as writing the weight and height their ideal partner should have. Of course, there were also some women in the look for young meat, but the number of men overpassed them.

About to exit the app in defeat, a profile caught your eye. His pale pink hair was parted, allowing his thick eyebrows to stand out. His high cheekbones made him look like a statue, the details in his face almost too perfect for a mere human. He must be the incarnation of a Greek God, you thought.

‘Jung Yoonoh. 41 years old. Owner of N & C.’

“Should I...?” You asked yourself in a voice lower than a whisper.

He has probably gotten hundreds of messages, so what would be the point of sending one yourself? Your eyes scanned the picture over and over again as the remains of your soup started getting cold.

He was probably the only acceptable man in the whole app, so why not give it a try?

You already spent five whole dollars on it, might as well make it worth the money.

‘Hi.’ Sent.

“Holy crap.” You breathed out, regretting every single action that led you to take such a stupid decision. “Ah!” You squeaked as three small dots appeared beside his profile picture, signaling he was writing a reply.

What if he rejected you right from the beginning? God, that would be so humiliating. His message stopped your train of thought.

‘Hi!’

Followed by:

‘How are you?’

Sweating like a pig, thank you for asking.

‘Fine. You?’ Read.

‘Thrilled. No one had messaged me since I created my account two weeks ago.’

‘How is that possible?’ You imprinted your thoughts on a message.

‘It’s hard to trust people nowadays. I guess people might think either my picture is photoshopped or I'm lying about my job.’

‘Their loss, ig.’ Read.

He was taking some time to answer. Had you said something inappropriate?

‘Hahaha.’

The conversation stopped there, as you didn't know how exactly to answer his message. But a few minutes later, another text from him popped up at your chat.

‘If you're okay with it, we can start talking about a possible arrangement.’

Already? You've known each other for like five minutes. But then again, arrangements were the whole purpose of the app.

‘Sure.’

‘May I ask your reasons for joining the app?’

‘I need urgent money, but my job doesn't pay nearly enough.’ You omitted the part of your agonizing father, he didn't need to know that. ‘And you?’

‘I need someone to be my partner at public spaces.’

‘Alright.’ Read.

‘Do you happen to have some free time tomorrow at lunchtime? I think it’d be better to meet first before making any decisions.’

‘Yeah, I'm free.’

‘Great, I’ll send you the address.’

You thought a day would be enough to prepare yourself, but time passed by quicker than usual, and soon enough, it was time to get ready for your meeting with Mr. Jung. He was only a few years younger than your father, and calling him by his first name wouldn't feel right.

Unsure if you should wear something formal, you threw on a beige (the color you'd agreed on wearing so it’d be easier to recognize each other) summer dress, pairing it with the gold hoops you'd inherited from your grandma to make it look more elegant.

The hardest part of your routine was makeup. Your sunken cheeks couldn't be covered, and only after a few layers of blush and highlighter, you could bring your skin back to life.

On your way to the cafe, you went through the things you'd say when you met him. It was your chance to get your father what he needed.

You stood at the entrance with wide, scared eyes, shyly scanning through the place to look for your date.

“Melanie?” A hand on your shoulder had you jolting. “I’m Jung Yoonoh, nice to meet you.”

What you saw after turning around was breathtaking. A handsome, healthy man, with the most beautiful pair of dimples.

“Nice to meet you.” You managed to blurt out without stuttering, extending your hand to make the greeting more formal. The fake name didn’t seem necessary anymore. “It’s actually y/n, I didn't want to use my real name.”

“I understand. Let’s take a seat.” He offered with a kind smile.

He left you seating at the terrace while he made your order, a latte, and a chocolate cookie. Your fingers played with your hoops anxiously, trying to regulate your breath.

“They’ll bring our food in just a sec.” He offered a warm smile. “Your dress is pretty.” Yoonoh said out of nowhere.

“Thank you.”

“I see you're not a chatty person.” You were about to object, but he started speaking again. “It's not a bad thing! I usually talk a lot, so it’s a nice way to balance things.”

You nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with the man sitting in front of you.

“So, uhm, this is my first time doing this, so I'm not really sure where to begin.” He pulled out a folded paper from the front pocket of his dressing pants. “It’s a bit creased, but I can always print another one. I brought it so you could take a look and let me know if you wanted to change anything. I don't mean to pressure you, but you said it was urgent, so...”

You read the paper under his attentive gaze, making sure not to miss a single word. Everything seemed correct, except...

“Six months?”

“Is that too much?” A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, a sign of deep concentration. “Okay, so let's do this instead.”

He took back the contract, pulling out a pen from the pocket in his dressing shirt to correct the original stipulations.

“Four months, and if by the end of them you don't absolutely hate me, we can extend the time. Deal?”

“Just one more thing.”

You cleared your throat, conscious that your following words might jeopardize the whole arrangement.

“Are you sure you want to make it official already?” You had to stop for a moment as the waiter left your orders on top of the wooden table. “I mean, it's not that I have a problem with it, but it's your money and maybe you'd like to give it a better thought.” You resumed.

“The fact that you're concerned about me proves I'm making the right choice. Now, tell me, how much would you like to receive as a weekly allowance?”

Would it be too reckless to ask him straight up for the $8,000?

“H-how much are you willing to give me?” You felt dirty, accepting a stranger’s money like that.

“Whatever you need.” His hand suddenly reached forward to yours, causing every ounce of blood in your body to rush to your face. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, I'm here to help you.” His voice tone dropped, acquiring an almost soothing feeling.

“I need eight thousand by Thursday, next week.” His eyes were wide open, mouth having difficulties remaining closed. “I-I know it's too much, but...”

“I can find a way to give you that money, but I'd like to know the reason why you need it. Just to make sure it's nothing illegal.”

You puffed your cheeks, trying to find an excuse good enough to justify the amount of money you were asking for.

“It isn’t illegal, is it?”

“No!” You retrieved your hand from below his, now embarrassed at the possibility of him having a bad image of you. “I need it for my father.”

“I suppose you don't want to talk about it.” He started at his palm, lips pressed in a thin life. “But when it comes to arrangements like this, we need to trust each other, alright?” You barely knew each other, yet, he demanded to know a very personal detail of your life. Not that he didn't have a good reason for wanting to know, it wasn't a particularly small amount of money.

“He had an accident at work...” You started, fearful of looking up to find pity in his eyes. “I need a lawyer to make his company legally responsible. They intend to throw it under the rug and pay a somewhat decent amount of money to make it go away. The firm I intend to hire is supposedly the best in town, probably my only chance of getting justice.”

“And why don't you just accept it? There's no guarantee that your lawyer will win the case.” You fisted the delicate fabric of your dress, eyes watering as you tried to hold back your anger.

“My father’s life is priceless, and if you think what I'm doing is a waste of money, then fine, we can both look for someone else to help us.” It sounded more aggressive than you'd first intended, but you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Before you could even stand up, his slim fingers had already wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“I never said that.” He whispered with an almost sad tone. “Come on, sit down.”

He tugged at your arm the slightest, showing off his charming dimples once again.

“I’ll give you the money on one condition...” He raised one of his thick eyebrows. “I’ll go with you to see the lawyer.”

“Why...?”

“That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

“Okay.”

The days before your meeting with your potential lawyer were nerve-wracking. You'd seen Yoonoh another time to sign the contract, which finally made your arrangement official.

You’d visit your father every day, always hoping he'd be sitting with his arms wide open, ready to hug you. But nothing had changed ever since he first came into that room.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kim.” The secretary's gaze lingered on Jaehyun a few seconds before he finally snapped out of it. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Just a second.” He opened his agenda and quickly found your appointment. With a warm smile, he guided you through the corridors of the building, all the way to the elevator. “It’s the only office on the last floor, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Once again, he shot Jae an uneasy glance before the metal doors slid close.

“What was all that?” To be honest, you couldn't care less. But a small chat might calm your nerves and prevent you from throwing up all over the place.

“What do you mean?” He grinned, pressing the button to the top floor.

“You know what I mean.” You scoffed, annoyed at his evasive behavior.

“We just happen to know each other, nothing special.” Before the conversation could continue, a loud ding resonated through the metal cubicle. “Let’s go.” His hand found its place at the small of your back, pushing you towards the glass door. Through it, you could see a black-haired man reading a pile of documents, occasionally raising a photo to examine it with his gold-rimmed glasses supported at the bridge of his elegant nose.

Jaehyun extended his arm over your shoulder to knock on the door, earning an almost annoyed ‘come in’ from the man inside.

“Let’s go.” Once again invading your personal space, he reached for the doorknob with you trapped between his arms.

As soon as the door opened, the man raised his eyes from the documents he was checking.

“What are you doing here, Jung?”

“I knew something was off...” You murmured, loud enough for the man at your side to chuckle.

“I brought you a client, you should be happy.”

“Miss y/n, I suppose. Have a seat.” His demeanor completely changed while speaking directly to you. “I spoke with your aunt last week, she explained the details of the lawsuit, but I must say, it isn't an easy case.”

“I know that, but I've been told you're the best firm in town, I know I'll have more possibilities of winning if you're my lawyer.”

“Best firm in town my ass.”

“Be silent or I’ll kick you out of the building.”

That was enough for Yoonoh to zip his mouth. For a while at least.

“I suppose she also told you about our fee.” He pushed his glasses up using his thumb. “We’d also keep 25% of the lawsuit money assuming we win the case, is that okay with you?”

“Yes-”

“Okay, stop.”

“I’ll call security, Jung.”

“Look at me, y/n.” He squeezed your arms. “This clown is trying to scam you...” He pointed his finger at the lawyer without breaking eye contact. “You’d be spending loads of money for someone who isn't even confident in his abilities. It isn't worth it.”

“And I suppose you'd do better than me, then.” The black-haired man scoffed. “If that's the case, then you can both leave. I'm quite busy at the moment.” With a turn of his wrist, he signaled you to leave the room.

You were fuming, stomping out of the building with Jaehyun right behind you.

“I found a great restaurant nearby, we can go there and-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you just fucked up my only chance to give those bastards what they deserve.” The sun was starting to set, yellow light casting shadows over his tender cheeks.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Are you laughing right now?” You bit your lip, hard, trying to hold back the tsunami of tears threatening to come out of your eyes. “Asshole.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his eyebrows mockingly. Oh, how close you were to punch that pretty face of his. “Can I explain now?”

You remained silent, staring at the ground with the smallest frown between your eyebrows.

“How do you think I know Kim Doyoung?” Before even giving you a chance to answer, he continued. “That son of a bitch has been stealing my clients for ages.”

“Your clients...?”

“He isn't even that good of a lawyer compared to me.” He scoffed with fake arrogance.

“You're a lawyer?!” You slammed your palms into your face, whining at the newly acquired information. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?”

“Just wanted to swing by and annoy him a bit. Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let you accept his deal.” He winked playfully.

The sun was now hidden, the sky darkening as the moon rose to take its shift.

“Though I gotta say, I'm kinda offended I wasn't even an option. I'm a pretty great lawyer, you know?”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you join me for dinner. What do you say?”

As you walked into the darkness of the streets, his shoulder occasionally bumping yours, you wondered if meeting him was a casualty. Maybe the world was finally smiling at you.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun

[stevenbasic]

“Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit.

——

Earlier that day, I’d been told at the front desk that there was a lady from Evolution Pharmaceuticals on the line, and that she’d like to speak with me. Aubrey had always been good about screening out the sales pitches, the irate patients, the people with whom I really never needed to actually talk. So that she was pulling me aside for this call told me that this one might be something I should probably take...

But - ugh. No. I didn’t want to. This had been a long day, a long week so far - and it was only Tuesday! God, the past few months had been more and more exhausting, humiliating and emasculating with each passing hour. And the more I learned, the more it seemed that this company was at the heart of my troubles. Yes, it offered the opportunities of great financial rewards for the practice with this clinical study trial in which we were going to be participating. Since Jeanette, my previous Office Manager, had left, the mismanagement of the business had us in dire straits. Without the money from Evolution’s study and the “Lean In” grant from the women’s advancement group, I’m not sure we’d still be afloat. So, yeah, maybe I should have taken the call.

“I’ll call them later,” I told Aubrey, and grabbed the films I needed for my next patient.

That had been three hours ago, before my little hallway meeting with Melissa. Since then Gianna - some woman who’d wanted to speak to me about the trial - had called two more times. Left messages. Really wanted just fifteen minutes of my afternoon. Needed to speak with me. I refused each call.

Finally done with patients, sitting in my office at the end of the day as darkness crept in from outside, I sighed as Brittni from the desk buzzed me. She said that Gianna was on the line again. “Can I transfer her?”

“No,” I replied on the intercom, noticing that a little green light had blinked to life on the camera I had clipped to my monitor. I hadn’t seen it before, this light. In fact...when did I get a camera on this computer?

“Tell her I'll call tomorrow...” I finished.

I had set back to finishing some patient notes on my desktop when, suddenly, my screen flashed to black. For a quick moment I thought - oh no, a crash - but then a new, unfamiliar window appeared, and my mouse pointer began moving on its own accord. What the…? The window went full screen and next thing I knew I was in a video chat with-

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were avoiding my calls…” the woman onscreen spoke, laughing casually as she tossed her hair...

“oh, uh…” I was immediately agape. This was who’d been trying to call me all day??

“Anyway...Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit. This girl was gorgeous. Look at those tits.

As I stared, still shell-shocked and speechless from having my computer hijacked out from under me by a bosomy corporate careerist, she went on to introduce herself as Gianna Albertini, from the clinical trials department at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She explained how excited she and her team was to get the study off the ground at the practice. Things had been fast tracked at the FDA, they were just waiting for some rubber stamps, and everything looked very promising for their product. She apologized for not being able to meet in person, at least for a while. “I’m on some new retroviral treatment, and they have me quarantined at home,” she explained with surprising nonchalance, “yadda yadda yadda…”

Finally, after a good several minutes of watching her talk - and she held my attention easily, her rack possibly rivaling Melissa’s - she let me get a word in edgewise. I was still confused by how in one moment I was working on my patient charts, and then in the next I was in a video chat. “H-how did you…?”

“Sorry,” Gianna laughed, casually waving away any privacy concerns I was currently about to voice, “I had to remote in, take over your desktop. I really needed to speak with you.” Beyond the blatant intrusions tactics she was obviously willing to employ, there was something in this woman’s eyes, her demeanor, that was making me more and more concerned as the conversation - such as it was - continued. She may have been acting relaxed and friendly, decidedly informal, but there was a seriousness just below the surface that even I could see, even through the screen, and even in the face of those enormous tits. “Plus, maybe it’s actually better we do it this way, rather than on the phone,” she said, as she sat up nice and straight, “So we can see one another’s...smiling faces.”

Gahh...

As she got down to brass tacks, this young woman went on to describe to me some of the details of the new wings in our building into which the office would be expanding, how much more space we and Evolution be acquiring to fulfill the needs of the trial, and when it would all be ready. “Construction is ultra-fast tracked,” she said, “should be done within a few weeks.”

Weeks?? I marveled, silently incredulous. I’d seen the plans; it was a huge project. I’d figured months, if it ever really got done at all. But, the teams did seem motivated, and there were a lot of them, working day-in and day-out, all through the night. Maybe, perhaps? Could they pull it off in weeks?

We also talked about the structure of the trial, what it would involve day-to-day, and the long-term forecast. Evolution seemed ready to set up permanent shop with a clinic in the building, by taking over much of the lease of the new space, with the study just the first step in the door.

“You’ll be listed as the lead investigator,” Gianna explained, continuing on to detail the ins-and-outs of the trial, “but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of people in place. You really won’t have to do too much, or deal with anyone at the main office. You’ll be reporting just to me...”

“r-reporting to you?” I asked, trying to ignore the impressive bosom which filled the screen, cowed me. That had taken me back a bit...'reporting to her'? I had noticed something in this young woman’s tone, through our chat, that led me to believe that she and I possibly had different views as to the, uh, hierarchy of this whole thing. I was the doctor around this place, and had gotten used to expecting a little respect, being top of the food chain. She, on the other hand, maybe had other ideas.

“That's right,” she said, “we’ll do these chats once a week, more if I feel like we need it. I’ll expect a report from you every day, but again don’t worry. It’s basically something you just have to sign, the girls will do it all. Our other providers will be handling most of the work with the patients in the study, entering data, keeping the FDA happy, blah blah blah. Maybe we’ll ask you to go in and talk to, examine a few of the subjects, just to keep things interesting for you.”

If I hadn’t felt totally emasculated and marginalized, my authority crippled by the horde of women who’d apparently taken over my practice recently, this was the clincher. It would appear that for this study I was going to be not much more than a coddled figurehead, a token man of straw, expected to satisfy the whims of some half-rate pharm company and this woman, at her beck and call. No way!

“I’m going to have to insist on directing care for, uh, the trial subjects,” I asserted, finally getting a moment to exert my will, “they will, technically, be my patients.”

“Oh, of course!” Gianna replied, smiling and throwing her hair over her shoulder, “Allowing for some oversight from the other providers we’ll have in place, you’ll have lots of medical-decision-making to keep yourself busy!”

What did she mean, ‘oversight’?

“They’ll be different than your usual patients, the subjects that we’ll be bringing in for the study, but I think you’ll like them,” she continued, trying to reassure me, “maybe a younger crowd, and of course all female. But in general all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch the money coming in.” She sat, looked into the screen for a moment, in thought. “Though I guess we have some people there handling that for you, too, hm?”

That gave me pause, made me rethink the litany of arguments that were beginning to boil up in my throat. I’d seen some of the paperwork, quickly, as it had moved past my desk for my signatures. It involved a lot of money for the practice. Like, a lot of money. I thought of my bills, my expenses, what I still somehow owed on my student loans. If Sheryl wasn’t going to be there to provide for me, help me pay these things…

If any of it remained, there was obviously some pride I was going to need to swallow.

“S-speaking of money,” I began, “what's my compensation going to look like?“

Something about my question, something about how I was holding myself, made Gianna smile again and then sigh, a sigh that told me she knew something I didn’t, I couldn’t help but think. With that she leaned in, her eyes locked on mine through the camera, and a shiver went up my spine. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. J,” she spoke, “you’ll be well taken care of...“

===================================

Muchos Gracias to long-time friend, supporter of the story and behind-the-scenes ninja Antares for helping me assemble these clips.

Newer posts and other goodies at my Patreon

#growing into the job

[vyri]

Matt/Mail Jeevas x Gorillaz

thank you @jeepersjeevas for all the ideas and the patience! i owe you forever.

here it is on Spotify:

Intro

Machine bitez #11

Yeah, man, you got such an accent, bruh, wack, bruh. Super deep, deep, London accent. Like, "I don't even have a passport" London accent. Like you never left your block in London accent, it sounds super, super strong.

Noodle said to us when you heard the track, you could hear psychedelics. Yeah, man, as soon as I heard it, you know, like. You can taste the colours, but I just taste like sherbet ice cream, on moms.

Wammy's House

Kids with guns

Now they're turning us into monsters

Turning us into fire

Turning us into monsters

It's all desire

Andromeda

Caught in your eyes

Stacks of lights

Come streaming back

Make it for the best times

Growing pains, good times

DARE

Jump with them all and move it

Jump back and forth

It feels like you were there yourself, work it out

Mello's departure

Don't get lost in heaven

Put me in a cab to suburbia

I just took a line but I wasn't with you

There was more of it there, when I got back home

But you had left me, you don't know my soul

You're a whole bad mistake, yeah, you're a whole one

Matt's departure

19-2000

The world is spinning too fast

I'm buying lead nike shoes

To keep myself tethered

To the days I've tried to lose

My mama said to slow down

You must make your own shoes

Out there

Humility

I'm the lonely twin, the left hand

Reset myself and get back on track

I don't want this isolation

See the state I'm in now?

Callin' the hunter with a rifle

'Cause right now that's the ball where we be chained

Shoot it true

I want you in the picture

That's why I'm calling you

Pac-man

I’m a mad pac-man

Livin' in a levelled world

Everywhere I go I don't know where I am

You can call me crack, you can call me mad and cyborg

You can load my head, and sell me into bathing light

Everybody knows, when I was sad, I fell for you

Everywhere I go, no stressin' out, no stressin' out

Feel good inc.

City's breaking down on a camel's back

They just have to go 'cause they don't know whack

So while you fill the streets, it's appealing to see

You won't get undercounted 'cause you're damned and free

You got a new horizon, it's ephemeral style

A melancholy town where we never smile

And all I wanna hear is the message beep

My dreams, they got her kissing, 'cause I don't get sleep, no

Momentary bliss

The truth, the bills, they must be paid

And what is left, is salt and cake, typical

All you need to change your face

You're gettin' sold, it's such a waste

You know, we could do so much better than this

Swimmin' in pools of momentary bliss

Where you gotta find a family 'cause everybody taken

They worry you keep on adding

I think you gotta crawl

Dirty harry

I need a gun to keep myself among

The poor people are burning in the sun

No, they ain't got a chance

They ain't got a chance

I need a gun

'Cause all I do is dance

'Cause all I do is dance

Working for an old friend

Interlude: new world

She gave me a call

That brought me back

Back, back, back

The elevator

The new world

I just wanted to be close to you

The new world

I'm tired

Seems like I was alright again

That brought me back

I just wanted to be close to you

Strobelite

Slide the light off you

You may find some peace

All will come to you

If you come with me

Are we just too far to be as one again?

Are we obsidian?

Is this how it ends?

She's my collar

I'm yellow, he was blue

It's nothing that he could hide

We made agreement though

Whenever we were so alive

I died a thousand times

I did what I had to do

Hey, that's just how it goes

I'm still coming back to you

Sex murder party

You always said

I was out of control

Teach me hatred

Then let me go

You didn't care, no truth and no dare

In the bathroom, blow everywhere

Now you're so high, kiss all the guys

Making me jealous, I wonder why

Every planet we reach is dead

Dreams aren't bad, I had turned back

I love the girl

But God only knows it's

Getting hard to see the sun coming through

I love you

But what are we going to do?

Rock bottom (or something similar)

Sleeping powder

I get dropped from where I belong

I take my pills and I get in the mood and I

Take five to get it to load in

Even in the place

And I get my jeans on right

And sit in the rows and

Inside I live in a cage and I

Peek out and summon the code and I

Enter the lake to face what I'm cagin'

Souk eye

Why you rolling waves over me now, that's all I need, dreaming

Waiting on a lady, come find me, be forgiven

I'll be a regular guy for you, I never said I'd do that

Why you looking so beautiful to me now when you're so sad?

Broken

It's by the light

Of the plasma screens

We keep switched on

All through the night while we sleep

There's nothing you can do for them

They are the force between

When the sunlight is arising

El mañana

I saw that day

Lost my mind

Lord, I'll find

Maybe in time

You'll want to be mine

Busted and blue

Where do they come from?

The wires that connect to us

Weightless and fall on your body

'Till we're invisible

I'm with you throughout it, choose

Busted and blue

Climbing up (or something like that)

Melancholy hill

Well you can't get what you want

But you can get me

So let's set out to sea

'Cause you are my medicine

When you're close to me

When you're close to me

Empire ants

Oh joy's arise

The sun has come again to hold you

Sailing out the doldrums of the whole week

The polyphonic prairies here, it's all around you

It's all around you, out here

And if the whole world is crashing down

Fall through space out of mind again

Where the emptiness we leave behind on warm air rising

Blows all the shadows far away

Demon days

Well these demon days are so cold inside

It's so hard to live, and so to survive

You can't even trust the air you breathe

'Cause Mother Earth has a soul to leave

When lies become reality

You love yourself because it's easy

Pick yourself up it's a brand new day

So turn yourself round

Don't burn yourself, turn yourself

Turn yourself around to the soul

Hallelujah money

Don't worry, my friend

If this be the end, then so shall it be

Until we say so, nothing will move

Ah, don't worry

It's not against our morals

It's legally tender

Touch my friend

While the whole world

And whole beasts of nations desire

Power

When the morning comes

We are still human

How will we know?

How will we dream?

How will we love?

How will we know?

#thank you senkasenkisenkaroo so much i know ive been spamming u w ideas loö #honestly the self indulgence here is off the charts #mail jeevas? is this how you tag #death note #i guess? #mello #matt #do people TAG THINGS?

[getitinbusan]

Chapter 3: Liability

Y/N doesn't want a relationship, especially not with an idol. Jaebeom only wants her.

Love after heartbreak and all the things that fall in between.

Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Smut

A new series inspired by lyrics, each chapter has a specific song that goes with it.

Chapter 1 : Nice to Meet Ya

Chapter 2 : Blood in the Cut

Chapter 3 : Liability

Chapter 4 : That's just the way you make me feel

Liability - Lorde

The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy

'Til all of the tricks don't work anymore

And then they are bored of me

I know that it's exciting

Running through the night, but

Every perfect summer's

Eating me alive until you're gone

Better on my own

It had been four days and you were still on his mind. He couldn't figure it out; it's not like you'd even given him a flicker of hope.

"Fuck," he said aloud as his fingers sent the text.

JB: You've got to find out about Y/N for me. I can't stop thinking about her.

Yug: Why her JB? She's 100% negative press. Name somebody, anybody else and I'll hook it up.

JB: I never ask you for anything. Can't you just fucking call Jungkook and get me her details.

………......................

Yug: She owns a small bookstore in Ikseon-dong called Serendipity. Listen, Jungkook wasn't happy about you asking. He said she's been through enough, and you'd better not fuck her over.

JB: Thanks, I owe you one.

Yug: I hope this doesn't bite you in the ass.

A bookstore, he grinned, well that was just fate or...serendipity. He could just pretend running into you was a coincidence, everybody knew he loved books.

He pulled it up on Google.

Serendipity, a Bookstore/Cafe located in the heart of Ikseon. A charming Old Hanok hidden amongst the Dongs tiny alleyways

While he scribbled down the address, the reviews caught his eye.

⭐ I don't know who this whore thinks she is, but I hope her store goes out of business.

⭐ This store is trash just like the owner.

⭐ Stupid bitch deserved to get dumped. I can't believe Yoongi would find her attractive.

⭐ Poverty ass gold digger. You'd better stay away from our boys.

His heart broke for you, he knew fans could be possessive, but these were just cruel. What terrible things for you to have to read, and for what? False ownership of their idol.

..................................

Opening the door, the smell of coffee and books filtered through his nostrils, if he could create his own signature fragrance, this would be it. His eyes scanned the shop until he found you, glasses on sitting behind a computer screen at the checkout.

Browsing around he'd glance up every now and again taking you in. He noted how comfortable you looked in your own environment. Unlike at the bar your face was relaxed, soft, even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled at the customer you were serving, and he knew he was a goner.

He went back to perusing the shelves, his heart was beating quickly. How was he going to approach you?

"Can I help you find anything," came from behind him.

He scanned the books quickly, and turned with a smile, "I'm just looking for I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki."

You gave no reaction

"Well that's pretty convenient Jaebeom, because you're standing right beside it."

Starting to walk away he caught your hand, "Hey, come on, I'm just trying to know you."

"Funny, I think you already know all about me, you found me easily enough." You pulled your hand away.

"Listen JB, I'm a real career killer and it seems like you're doing pretty well for yourself. Why would you want this kind of drama?"

He knew the words were going to come out wrong but he was trying to say them before you could leave.

"I feel bad for how you've been treated, you deserve better. I think that I could make you better, fuck, not that there's anything wrong with you.. I mean that we could be better....together, not separate."

"I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me Jaebeom, last call for the pity party ended a while ago. I'm doing just fine putting myself back together."

"I'm sorry, I promise I'm not usually like this. I don't know why I can't talk to you without sounding like an idiot."

He sighed deeply, "I'm just...is it okay if I stay? I promise I'll just have a coffee and read, I really like it here."

"It's bad business for me to chase away customers, stay as long as you want "

You felt kind of bad, maybe you were being to harsh on him. Bringing his coffee to the table you set it down placing a slice of cheesecake next to it. "It's on me."

"Thanks," he smiled shyly.

"Can I ask why you chose Serendipity? It's kind of a romantic notion for someone who's so cynical."

Cocking a brow you asked, "Are you really interested, or is this you hitting on me?"

He laughed, "I'm not going to stop hitting on you, but yeah, I really want to know."

You walked away and grabbed a book off the shelf. Sitting beside him, you slid it across the table.

"Have you heard of The Three Princes of Serendip?" He shook his head no.

"It's a fairy tale. The heroes were always discovering things they weren't in quest of."

He thumbed through the pages while he listened to your explanation.

"That day a few months ago," you interrupted yourself, "I'm assuming you know what day I mean?"

He pursed his lips and nodded.

"Well, I quit the job I hated, I lost my boyfriend and the whole world treated me like I'd done something wrong."

You shrugged, still not understanding how it all happened.

"I was lost, I had nothing but myself and a handful of hush money from Big Hit. I came here to hideout but instead I found this place for sale. If that's not a Serendipitous string of events, I don't know what is."

He smiled and closed the book, "I think I'll take this one today."

Pretending to be shocked you questioned him, "What? You didn't really want I Want to Die, But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki? "

"I think I'll leave that one as an excuse to come back."

His deep chocolate brown eyes were heavy on you, you know because you made the mistake of looking into them.

"This is a public space, you don't need to make excuses to come." You tried to sound flippant.

"And JB...I wasn't always this cynical, life just hasn't given me a chance to be anything but."

................................

He laid in bed reading, or trying to at least. He'd been over the same sentence about four times unable to stop thinking about you. 

................................

You were laying in bed when you heard the ping. You knew it was a stupid idea, but after he left you stalked his accounts, and turned on his post notifications.

...............................

The Vlive began, he wanted to tell everyone about a great book he was reading that he'd found in a cool little shop in Ikseon-dong. 

📖 Lady: I'm glad you like it.

Reading your comment he smiled, he really was a beautiful man. You examined his features and expressions but they suddenly changed. He tried to quickly sign off but it was too late.

😭Is he talking about y/n?

😱Are you kidding JB? 

🤮I can't believe he's going after Yoongi's sloppy seconds.

Part 3 for @persephones-seoul 💜

#lim jaebeom #jaebum smut #jaebeom #got 7 #jaebum #im jaeboem #got 7 jaebeom

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

*Ignore if you've already read this I just wanted to tag

Part 20: Recovery

My shit busted, Erik frowned frustrated as he sat looking through the rearview mirror in the Wawa parking lot. He hated this part of the job. Though he could take a hit and it wasn't his first, second, or third time getting shot, he didn't like the feeling of being dependent on someone else for help, even with a wound. Getting severely injured was always a risk but he preferred dealing with things on his own. Aside from that, he didn't trust hospitals. He probably needed surgery again but definitely not in Texas. Sighing, he decided to swallow his pride for the umpteenth time to go ahead and call the man he always went to when he got shot, stabbed, or had something bad happen to him that he couldn't completely fix in his own with a needle, some Tylenol, and time.

Dr. Charles. He had the equipment and resources and made private trips. He also knew Erik personally from his military days. On top of that, he was a proud Nigerian and didn't ask for specifics of Erik's dealings, deciding that it was best for him not to know so that he stayed out of it. Erik trusted him more because of it.

"Yellow," Charles answered on the first ring. Erik's eyes rolled. The man was in his sixties and it showed.

"Sup Chief. My leg's busted again. I'm a fly to you-"

"No no," he spoke forcefully. "If you're bleeding you must contain it. You will stay down and rest! Keep your leg elevated. Have you wrap-"

"Yea yea... it's in a tourniquet," Erik sighed. He felt like a child being fussed at by an elder.

"Where are you?! Drive to the nearest hospital and give them my information! I'll take care of it. We will bring you in and I will take a look."

"Or I could just-"

"No!" It was absolute. Erik's mouth set in a straight line. Charles reminded him a lot of his father. No one else could talk to him like that. "You pay me too much to be abandoned! Eh? Let us help," he insists kissing his teeth. Erik had no retort. He stared through the mirrors silently biting his thumbnail.

"Bet."

---

"Alřiiight," you sing listening to Erik's 'Necessary' playlist in the background. Moving around has warmed you up despite the fact that his A/C is pumping. Shake the Room with Pop Smoke and Quavo plays, the vocalizations in the background sounding like a lowkey creepy chant a secretly possessed Tebetian monk would do. You switch to some song called Kalifornia and climb the stairs to toss the cleaning rag into laundry taking your phone from its charger. "Downstairs is officially spotless... and sanitizzzed," you gasp to the walls as you stretch backwards feeling that sweet pull and release of tension in your back and shoulders. When you head back down, the entire bottom level smells like coconut mango, lysol, and tea tree oil mixed. "Mmm," you sigh having inhaled deep to smell the goodness. It was fresh. "That good shit," you chuckle.

Again, it feels so, so good to be in this house in the clear brightness of daytime. It's calm, spacious, and beautiful like a retreat or vacation home. You can go completely nude and feel at ease, alone with no one peeping at you in a private space. You can look outside and not feel as nervous in stepping out to the driveway. So you do just that.. proudly in the nude to feel the heat on your skin. It's still hot and muggy with the sun beating down so you head back into the A/C deciding to hit the hot tub instead.

"Oh my God," you nearly cry with a homemade smoothie in hand as you chill in heated water, the bottom of your fro soaked and hanging on your shoulders as you sit butt naked and slumped. "I'm never leaving this house... this is officially MY house now..."

It's an entire hour later when you dry off, as relaxed as Katt Williams' hair on a good day. You head through the lower level again before going back upstairs. You can't help but to be nosey looking again through his rooms and belongings. Where is the kink? This is ridiculous! It's all too simplistic... minimalistic. It's just weird... For someone who lives as boldly as Erik does to have no evidence of it anywhere. It seems sneaky and bizarre. You wonder why he hasn't accumulated a house of unique knickknacks. Maybe a toy drawer? Even you have a toy drawer. Alas, the craziest things you find are six different bongs, an ugly tie dyed pair of shorts that are way too short, a keyboard piano, and boxers printed with Obama's face. He's really good at hiding his deviance. "I bet it's all in that lil room," you mutter heading to the locked door. You try the knob again thinking of using a credit card to get in. Whether it actually works you're not sure.. and you don't want to mess up your card. You'd bet good money that everything you wonder about is behind that door.

"Anyway."

---

"Fuck this shit," Erik gritted through his teeth as he hunched over the outdoor freezer of the Wawa. Goddamn kid, cracker ass bitch, shooting don't know what the fuck.. He definitely needed fixing on his leg before he bleed out slowly in the Wawa parking lot. He was convinced he looked absolutely insane with a busted leg held tightly by his handmade tourniquet. It hurt like hell and he knew he had to do something. He hid the injury. No one could see it unless they really paid attention, he'd overlapped it with bandana and draped a jacket around his waist. He pulled the ice bag out of the freezer and sat it on the ground, not needing to look up to spot the camera above. In fact, he wouldn't look up because of it. Erik looked to a hefty ginger kid in a camo cap, beige shorts, and sandals. He couldn't be more than thirteen and he was hanging onto the glass door with a plastic bag of snacks dangling from his wrist as two rednecks entered through the door he held.

"Hey kid," Erik nodded watching the boy's eyes drift to his injury in question. He was observant causing Erik to shift the leg. "...Faulty machinery. Hence the ice.. but could you do me a big favor and save me some walking?" He held out a twenty and the boy took it. "And a strawberry milkshake," Erik called behind the boy who went back inside to pay for the ice as Erik limped back to the stolen vehicle. The kid was back and at his window quickly.

"Here's your change." The kid held it out, ready to drop it regardless of Erik's hand not being out to receive it.

"Keep it," Erik muttered.

"Nah, you look like you need it a lot more than me," the kid muttered scooting off. Erik stared after him. Little bastards. He scoffed starting the engine.

He pulled up to the hospital as instructed sending the info to Dr. Charles and as promised, Dr. Charles came through, calling on Erik's behalf. Erik initially refused the treatment learning that they intended on treating him right there in that hospital. "Treat me yourself," he'd fussed on the line with the trusted doctor. In the end he was swayed. He ended up in a hospital bed in Texas getting x-rayed despite his protests. Turned out they did need to operate to repair the fractured bone and tend to his vascular injury. The operation took three hours. When he woke, he was in recovery aka lockdown. His head was a little cloudy from their drugs. He decided to call the one person who he could count on to be truly excited to hear from him. He thought about how he'd start the conversation to keep her from asking too much. He just wanted to feel that warm glow she always gave him.. feel that she was with him without giving too much away.  

Thinking bout you.. Just wanted to hear your voice..

What you doing.. how'd you sleep?

Y/N. Can you talk to me for a bit while I listen? I'm tired...

Hey forehead...

---

Brrrrr.

That's your pocket buzzing. Pulling out your phone you do a double take at the screen and a streak of irritation surfaces, plucking your nerve. Perfect time to ask about that so called colleague he's probably hitting and he'd better fess up to whatever it is he's hiding.

Erik: You alive?

Instead of texting nonsense back, you dial his number and he picks up on the first ring.

"Angel... I miss you already girl."

"Well then you know where to find me," you snap hearing his soft chuckle. "And what the hell is so funny?"

"You... with all this bass. You hungry?"

"Don't ask me nothing dumb like that."

"Yeaah.... you need your tummy full. When's the last time you ate?"

"Erik?.. Shut up. You know what I wanna talk about," your voice lowers. "Tell me why that girl felt comfortable waltzing into your house last night and getting into my face like she belonged there.. Last I checked you don't have any friends."

"Well last I checked...," he kisses his teeth. "Nah, I ain't call you for all that..," his voice calms. "Just know we ain't close like you thinking. She happened to pop up. Ain't like I invited her."

"But if she's close enough to you to perform pop-ups then I feel like you should've mentioned her to me like you mentioned your other three."

"It's like I said, wasn't nothing to mention." Silence stretches as you wait for him to explain. "We work together. Work is all I have. Work is all she has. We just understand that about each other, that's all it is."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"You starting to piss me off. Yes."

"Don't get smart.. I'm choosing to believe you."

"Uh huh. Eat something."

"I am," you squint fixing your face when the waitress brings your drink and smiles. "I'm at PF Changs now."

"Oh? What you order?"

"Potstickers... lettuce wraps.... Thinking of getting some spring rolls... but also kinda wanna wait to see how I feel first. I don't wanna order it and have all these plates on the table at the same time and I'm the only one sitting here... you know?"

He chuckles and it's a light breath of amusement. "You know what?... I'm proud of you, kid. You survived the night alone in that big scary house. Such a big girl."

"Erik, don't patronize me," you flush, glad he's not there to see it. Your tone gives nothing away. "I live alone. You forget that."

"But that's different.. were you scared?"

"Not at all!" You sip your ginger beer. "What are you doing now?"

"Mm. Resting before I head out. I'll see you soon though.. before you know it."

"No rush actually. I'm enjoying the house, you can stay where you at."

"Here are your potstickers.. lettuce wraps..," the waitress hums setting the white plates on the wooden square table. "Anything else for you?"

"Not yet, I'll have to see how this goes." The food looks delicious so you talk to it instead of her.

"Understood," she smiles warmly dashing off to the kitchen as you pray silently to yourself. You almost forget Erik's on the phone as you eat until he speaks up a minute later.

"Y/N.. Do you miss me?"

"Nope." You take another few sips of ginger beer as he's silent. "..I'm kidding."

"Are you though?"

"Shut up. I told you come home."

"Shame we couldn't finish that little exercise when we were out together. I wonder how you'd have fared if we had."

"You were gonna have me do something ridiculous, I already know it." Sauce drips down your finger from the lettuce wrap and you catch it with the paper napkin from under your glass.

"Mm.. It's only ridiculous if you're easily embarrassed.. which means you care too much how you're viewed by others. It's holding you back."

"We all care about how we're presenting ourselves in society." With another sip of ginger beer you pick up a potsticker and dip it. "It's called self-awareness it's how we maneuver.. and as much as we don't like it, image is important especially when you're black working against people's pre-judgements."

"Yes and awareness is crucial but avoidance is a fear-based response that you specifically utilize as a self-imposed barrier. You could go.. so much further.. if you wouldn't avoid the situations that could cause others to view you in a way you don't particularly like.. also keeping in mind you're not a psychic to know what others are thinking."

"It doesn't take a psychic to read the room."

Silence.

"You know.. I'd love to see you be yourself.."

"I'm already myself."

"With others and not just with me. Although I love having part of you to myself," he pauses. "If I'm ever.. not with you for some reason, I want you to take that with you. Keep that same energy wherever you go. 'Cause you don't and your interactions suffer for it."

"I'm out at P.F. Chang's eating lunch.. Why? Why do we always go to therapy when I'm eating?"

"Watchu mean? That's the best time to talk to you, when your mouth is full. As a matter of fact, ballpark. How many people in the restaurant?"

"NO." You bite another potsticker.

"YES. What we just talk about? Tell me how many."

"Too many."

He chuckles again, breathily. "More than 10?"

"Yes! More than 10!"

"So here's the thing. You do it and I'll do something you want when I get back, don't matter what it is."

"And if I don't?"

"Then your punkass don't get shit. Easily put. This what I want you to do.."

"No, wait," you frown and chew on your straw. "Let's wait until you get back. It'll give you incentive to come back quicker." The waitress brings your refill. "I'll take those spring rolls," you tell her.

"You think you slick," Erik laughs. He sounds dead tired. "Okay. When I get back."

"You okay? You don't sound too good." Listening more closely, you hope he's not coming down with anything.

"Yeah I'm good. Did a lil workout, you know.. nigga a lil.. tired," he exhales.

"Oh. Intense exercise. Can't relate.. Okay, hurry back. Bye!"

"Don't hang up, I like hearing you talk!"

"Negro this food ain't gonna eat itself."

"Aight," he chuckles. "Enjoy."

Hanging up, you grin having skipped out on embarrassing yourself. The lettuce wraps are calling your name and now you're thinking of getting shrimp dumplings.

For $5!

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#house rules #original #erik killmonger x black reader #erik x reader #erik killmonger x reader