#I really love my job but oh my god am I absolutely drained and exhausted to my core whenever I’m not working | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinpanman · 4 years

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Vampire’s Wine

pairing: vampire boyfriend!jungkook x fem human!reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: 18+, fluff, slightly nsfw, established relationship

warnings: this whole thing is a disgusting bloody mess and not in the way you think. menstruation talk - from the use of hygiene materials to the smell of period blood, jk loves period blood - oop., casual conversation about sex and genitals

summary: You decide to brave the mystery that is menstrual cups. Jungkook is intrigued to say the least.

a/n: i needed a break from all my long af fics. u can blame my brain. u can also blame Jess @shelive-shelove for telling me to write this. and for helping me pick a member to write about - but then again, she always picks jk. also @joonie-mono kept judging me so now that it exists she has to read it. :-)

The simple matte black box sits on the bathroom counter and it’s incredibly intimidating despite it just sitting there. You pick it up and open the case to reveal an equally black menstrual cup sitting on top of a black pouch. A slip of paper falls out when you open it and you pick it up.

Greetings Y/N! We’re so glad you’ve decided to become the owner of a BLAKD cup. We understand some people don’t want color stained cups so we went ahead and…

You toss the card to the side and pick up the cup and turn it around in both awe and trepidation. There’s a knock on the open door but you don’t bother to look up.

“What’s that you go there?”

“JK honey, tell me. How am I supposed to stick this up my nether region?”

Jungkook snorts and plucks the cup from your hand.

“Well, my dick is bigger than this and you do such a good job taking it all in so I know my baby can handle this small thing.” He pats your cheek lovingly

You squeak and swat his arm away in disbelief. “Jungkook! I swear! You—that’s different! I’m not horny when I’m trying to stick this-this monster inside of me.”

He laughs and quickly covers the little distance between you, pulling you flush against him.

“First of all, that’s an insult to my dick because this,” he waves the cup in front of you and you roll your eyes at him “is no monster. Secondly, maybe we should get you horny first so it won’t be an issue.” He wiggles his eyebrows and licks his bottom lip in anticipation.

You scoff and push him away, taking the cup back from him.

“I need to figure out how to stick this up my very unaroused vagina, so please go and do your vampy things and leave me alone for a few minutes.”

He merely shrugs but of course your boyfriend who must know everything about everything asks, “But babe, what’s wrong with what you usually use?”

Ah, now that’s a good question. You’ve used pads and tampons for so long and frankly you are so utterly fed up with the mess that is Aunt Flo.

“Jungkook, you won’t even understand even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

You raise a brow but proceed anyway. “Well they stink, for one.”

“False. I love the way you sme—okay, sorry. Go on.”

“Pads are so annoying especially when you’re sweaty and they stick to your butt and somehow you always end up bleeding everywhere except on the pad! And then tampons! Just the general scare that it’ll be stuck there for too long or it’ll poison you or that you’re actually not bleeding as much as you thought you were and you’re dry af and it gets so uncomfortable to take out!” you voice dies out, nearly out of breath because you failed to pause after each sentence. Jungkook watches you with amusement painted throughout his face and relaxed posture resting against the counter.

Your chest is heaving but you continue after taking a few short breaths, “Period panties are okay but I’d like some extra insurance y’know? Also everything is so fucking expensive! Tell me why we’re being paid to tend to something we absolutely cannot control? I fucking bet you if men had periods, they’d free bleed every month and expect everyone to be okay with it. But because we’re women we have to hide it because it makes—”

Jungkook breaks you off mid-tangent kisses you and grins. “Had to stop you before you start ranting for a whole 10 minutes and then forget why you were talking in the first place.”

You return the kiss and give him an appreciative smile. Most people aren’t into the “kiss someone to get them to shut up” but in your case, you appreciated the kisses because one, Jungkook gives the best kisses and two, you really would go off forever if he didn’t shut you up.

“Thanks, baby. Now please leave,” you say before shoving him out the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

After what felt like (and probably was) two hours you are finally out of the bathroom, feeling so utterly defeated and exhausted. You had gotten it in, but at what cost? Both your hands still reek of blood despite scrubbing thoroughly for several minutes with soap. Your thighs are aching from squatting for so long as well. You plop down on the couch beside your boyfriend who’s occupied playing some rando shooting game on the PlayStation. He inhales deeply and shoots you a quick glance. You give him a questioning look but he doesn’t say anything.

After his match, he leans in close to your stomach and takes another big whiff. You’ve long passed being surprised at how much Jungkook likes smelling you. You’d think he was a werewolf or something. Not that you’d tell him that because you were not in the mood to be dicked down just to “prove a point.”

“Hm? You don’t smell like you normally do?”

“Huh, I’m honestly shocked considering how much I bled all over my hands and thighs.”

“Careful, Y/N. You might make me horny,” he muses as he enters another match.

“You’re gross.”

“So, what does the blood just… sit there?”

“Mm, yeah. The cup keeps it all inside and when I take it out the blood will be there.”

“Tell me when you’re gonna take it out, okay?”

Without breaking eye contact with the television screen, he tilts his head to plop a quick kiss on your forehead. You pull a blanket over you and watch on as your endearing thousand year old boyfriend destroys the hundredth controller because he’s still very much a baby vampy and sometimes he forgets his own strength.

“Ohhh my goood this is so fucking weird,” you mutter in disgust.

Here you are, at the end of a full day of doing absolutely nothing, squatting in the tub once again. This time, instead of sticking a foreign object up your vagina, you’re trying to pull it out. You finally have a grip on the stem and your thighs are screaming at you but you fight through the burn because no way in hell are you gonna risk dropping your cup in the toilet bowl. The several guides you found on the internet said it helped to use your muscles to push it out.

“Okay, here goes nothing.”

You push and you eventually feel the suction giving way. A few drops of liquid spill out over your hand and you grimace at how warm it is. You finally pull it out from inside you and you lift it up to inspect the contents of the cup. God it was startling how warm the cup is. It was both disgusting and fascinating to see how much blood you can bleed within half a day. And the best thing—it doesn’t smell! You’re done being weirdly fascinated with your blood now. You’ve definitely been with Jungkook for too long. You hold the cup away from you and tilt it to pour down the—

“NNOOOO!!!! STOP Y/N!!!!”

Your boyfriend stumbles into the bathroom and you watch him with absolute befuddlement as he inches closer to you with crazed eyes.

“Baby,” he reaches out to you, “what were you just going to do?”

“Um, pour out my period blood?”

“Baby!!” he practically whines and kneels beside the tub.

“...Yes? Jungkook?” You’re at a complete loss for why he came bursting here in such a hurry.

“I thought I asked you to tell me when you were gonna take it out.”

“I’m sorry hun. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I’m just taking it out?”

“Babe.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m a vampire.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Jungkook, I don’t even know what you’re talking about so if you could just tell me, that’d be great.”

He groans into his hands and peeks at you through his fingers.

“I wanna drink it.”

Oh, for god’s sake. You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You weren’t ignorant to his obsession with blood, especially during that time of the month. He was a vampire, after all. This was a whole new experience though with nearly an ounce of your blood right in your hand. Before you can second guess yourself, you hand the cup to your very pouty boyfriend who takes it with a now huge smile gracing his face.

He brings the cup directly under his nose and takes a quick whiff. You wrinkle your nose in distaste. And then he lets out a deep, guttural moan. He flicks his tongue in the pool of blood then promptly empties the blood into his mouth. A normal person would not shiver at the sight of their boyfriend drinking their blood, but you’ve long resigned the fact that you were not normal. Your eyes fixate on the trail of blood that missed his mouth and now fall down the side of his mouth to his chin. You swallow in sync with Jungkook who hands you back the empty cup.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Please never stop using this cup. It is the greatest creation of the modern times… Next to the internet. Also don’t ever drain your blood anymore. Give it to me. Save the ocean.”

“You absolute dork,” you laugh and continue your downward gaze of his body. That’s when you see it.

“Oh my god. Jungkook. Did you… baby are you horny?”

#jungkook fanfic #btsghostie #vampire jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #f:vampire's wine #i'm so sorry #also black menstrual cups do exist #omg you guys tell me to stop re-editing this every 10 minutes

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honey-dewey · 3 years

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Superheroes Don’t Take Sick days

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,190

Warnings: Marcus gets sick with the flu and suffers the symptoms, including vomiting and passing out.

Marcus rarely gets sick. However, when he does, it’s bad. Very bad. Plagued by the flu, he has no one to turn to. No one except his PA and significant other, who demands he goes home to rest. When he refuses, they decide to take matters into their own hands.

“Mr. Moreno?” You knocked on the door to Marcus’s office, a stack of folders cradled in your arms. “Mr. Moreno?”

“Come in.”

You kicked the door open with your foot, doing your best to balance the various paperworks. Marcus lifted his head off his desk, staring at you. “How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Marcus?”

“We are at work,” you pointed out, setting the folders on Marcus’s desk. “At work, I address you formally. Because it is, say it with me now, a formal work environment.”

Marcus grumbled under his breath, opening the folder on top. “Huh. This is,”

“A lot?” You finished for him, leaning on the edge of the desk and examining Marcus. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped in and head bowed slightly. His glasses sat on the desk next to his phone, both of which were smudged to the high heavens. You grabbed his glasses and instinctively began to clean them, knowing he hated doing it himself. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yep!” Marcus said, leaning back and pressing his palms into his eyes. “Just tired. Missy was up all night, and so was I.”

You put Marcus’s glasses down. “Oh no! What happened?”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s just sick.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s sick,” you repeated, a familiar exasperation in your voice. You loved Marcus a lot and knew that he was super smart, but sometimes he could be really thick when it came to common sense.

“Yeah?” Marcus looked up at you, clearly confused. “Why are you using that tone?”

“Marcus,” you said plainly. “You are also sick. Go home.”

“I’m not sick!” Marcus insisted, putting his glasses on and moving closer to his desk.

You nodded, sliding off his desk. “I’m going to go grab Dr. Thirteen. We’ll see who’s right.”

The walk down to the medical wing of the building was quick, considering it was just below the offices. The doctor, a wonderful young blonde woman with an accent so thick you could hardly understand her half the time, agreed to come with you to check Marcus out.

“He did seem rather under the weather earlier,” she said as you two walked. “Came in asking for DayQuil.”

You swore under your breath. “I swear, if he’s got something serious I will murder him.”

Thirteen laughed, opening Marcus’s office door. “Oh boy.”

Marcus looked up, yet again, from his desk. He’d been using his arms as a pillow, glasses off once more. “Hey Thirteen.”

“Marcus,” Thirteen chided, going over to stand next to him. He kicked his chair around so he was facing her, letting her do her job. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh.” Marcus looked from her to you and back again. “Like shit?”

Thirteen sighed, taking her stethoscope out of her coat pocket and setting it around her neck. “Feverish?” She asked, resting her wrist against Marcus’s forehead.

“Little bit.”

“Cough?”

“Yeah.”

“Congested?”

“Definitely.”

Thirteen made a face. “Nausea?”

Marcus started to get nervous, hands twisting in his lap. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Thirteen looked at you. “Take him home, by any means necessary. I’ll tell the boss, but he’s on medical leave for the next week, with recommended bed rest for forty eight hours.”

“What?” Marcus said. “But I don’t feel that bad.”

Thirteen shrugged. “You will. You have the flu, which is unsurprising given the season.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked at his desk, eyeing the folders stacked up on it. “Can I stay and finish my work?”

“No,” you and Thirteen said at the same time.

Marcus sighed. “Fine. I’ll go home. Coming with?” He directed the last question at you, and you nodded.

“Of course. If Missy’s sick too, then someone has to be there to take care of you. Also, I don’t want you driving.”

You managed to herd Marcus to the car with little issue, but he really didn’t look good. You had to repeat yourself three times when you asked him to put his seatbelt on, and he kept getting paler and paler until you were actually really worried.

“We’re gonna make a stop at CVS,” you said, turning into the parking lot. “If you go in, you have to wear a mask.”

Marcus, ever the stubborn hero, staggered to his feet and went somehow even paler, the last bit of color draining from his face as he wobbled in place.

“And we’re gonna leave you here,” you said, standing in front of him and crossing your arms.

“But,” Marcus said, his voice thick with congestion.

You cut him off before he could continue. “You wanna walk by yourself through CVS? Okay, let’s see it then.” You positioned yourself barely ten feet away, maybe three or four steps. Marcus shakily shuffled forward before almost toppling right over. You caught him, turning him back towards the car.

“No, put your hand- oh my god! Marcus!”

Marcus didn’t respond. He’d gone entirely limp in your arms, eyes rolled back. You got him back into the car, and by then, he’d woken back up, still delirious.

“I’m going in,” you said slowly, buckling Marcus back in. “I am cracking the windows and locking the car. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Just as promised, it was the fastest CVS run you’d ever made. Some Gatorade, medication, tissues, Clorox wipes, Lysol spray, and a few cans of soup later, you were back in the car. Marcus looked over, eyes half open. “Huh?”

“If you’re like this,” you said, starting the car. “I hate to think what Missy’s like back home.”

Missy was not as bad as Marcus. Laying on the couch, she barely had the energy to turn her head as you practically carried Marcus inside, but she was conscious, which you appreciated. “Dad?”

You winced at her scratched up voice. “Hey honey,” you said, laying Marcus in his recliner. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap,” Missy admitted. “Dad said it was probably just the sniffles or something, but then it got worse.”

Nodding, you handed Missy a box of tissues, nudging the trash can closer to the couch with your foot. “I don’t think it’s just the sniffles this time,” you said. “Where’s the thermometer?”

You took Missy’s temperature. She was at 100.7, which you decided could’ve been so much worse. You gave her a decongestant and a Gatorade, rubbing her back as she coughed violently.

“Marcus,” you said, standing. Marcus hummed in acknowledgment.

“Here.” You handed him the thermometer. “Take your temperature.”

You turned back to Missy, who was zoned out. “Missy, honey, let me clean your blanket.”

She grumbled as you took the filthy blanket, muttering out that she was cold.

“I know you’re feeling cold,” you said, tossing the blanket in the laundry. “But your blanket is dirty. I’ll grab you a clean one.”

As you gave Missy a new blanket, you heard the thermometer beep, Marcus pulling it out of his mouth and looking at it.

“Let me see,” you said, holding a hand out.

Marcus tucked the thermometer to his side. “Just 100, like Missy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Give me the thermometer.”

“But-“

“Marcus Moreno, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me that thermometer.”

Marcus handed the thermometer over, a guilty look on his face.

The thermometer read 101.5.

“Marcus!” You scolded, putting the thermometer down and pressing your wrist to his forehead. Sure enough, he was burning up. “No wonder you passed out earlier!”

Missy looked up. “He passed out?”

“In the CVS,” you said, grabbing another blanket for Marcus. “No biggie.” You really didn’t want to worry her, even though it definitely was a big deal.

By noon, everyone was sound asleep aside from you. You were sitting in the living room with a book, listening to Marcus’s and Missy’s labored breathing. Every so often, Missy would kinda wake up and shift, but Marcus remained solidly asleep until noon.

You put your book down, hearing Missy wake up as you rummaged through the kitchen. Grabbing a saucepan and a can of soup, you began to make lunch.

Missy trudged to her feet, joining you in the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey sweetie,” you said, checking her temperature. “Your fever’s finally starting to break.”

Missy perked up a bit at that. “Do I have time to go shower?”

“Sorry,” you said, stirring the soup. “Nope. After lunch though, absolutely.”

Missy ended up eating at the table, her blanket still around her shoulders. You, instead of joining her, did your level best to wake Marcus up.

“Marcus.” You shook his shoulder slightly. “Marcus. Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my fucking life. Missy do not ever repeat that! Marcus! Christ, what the hell?”

Marcus’s eyes cracked open. “The fuck?” He slurred. “Missy, don’t repeat that.”

Missy snorted and left to go bathe.

“I made lunch,” you said, holding up the bowl of soup you’d made for him. “Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

You raised an eyebrow, and yet again, Marcus shrunk back with that horribly guilty look.

“Fine,” he said softly, taking the bowl and fumbling with his spoon. You were on standby, which was a good thing, because barely ten minutes into the small bites of soup, Marcus startled to his feet, fell to his knees, and threw up on the carpet.

“Shit!” You yelled, helping Marcus away from the now dirtied carpet patch. “Oh fuck. Marcus, you okay?”

Marcus shook his head, eyes full of tears.

“Oh baby,” you said softly, hugging him and helping him up onto the couch. “Babe, hey, it was an accident. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just fine. It’ll pass.”

Marcus clung to you, sobbing openly. You rubbed his back, letting him bury himself in your shirt.

At one point, Missy came back, peering into the living room. “Dad?”

You shook your head, waving her away. She glanced from Marcus to the carpet and then back again. “Oh. Okay.”

Eventually, you managed to get Marcus calm. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and you laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “Marcus, darling, stay here. I’m gonna clean the carpet, okay?”

Marcus nodded, hugging a pillow tight as you got up to grab the cleaning supplies. He watched with half open eyes as you cleaned the carpet, never once complaining.

When you finally stood, he made a small noise, drawing your attention. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too Marcus.”

Everything in the Moreno household was calm throughout the rest of the day. Missy was getting better, able to make a phone call to Anita to reassure her that she and Marcus were okay. Marcus wasn’t feeling much better, so you and him cuddled on the couch, his head resting on your chest as you absently scratched through his hair. He napped for a bit, occasionally waking up and complaining he felt gross. You pointed out that he was still sick and encouraged him to drink more Gatorade before he fell asleep again.

Dinner was more soup, at which Marcus complained.

“Oh hush,” you said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Do not waste your voice complaining about soup you cannot taste.”

Marcus stuck his tongue out at you and took another bite of soup.

Missy went to bed shortly after dinner, the sickness sapping her energy. You sent her off with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to call the school and tell them she wouldn’t be going tomorrow.

“And you, mister,” you said, sitting next to Marcus on the couch and turning on Wheel of Fortune. “Aren’t going to work for the next week.”

“What?”

You smiled, feeling Marcus shuffle and lay in your lap. “You heard Thirteen this morning. Medical leave for a week.”

Marcus sighed, relaxing as you rubbed his shoulders. “Fine.”

Somehow, you two fell asleep on the couch, curled up in each other’s embrace. When you woke up the next morning, Marcus felt a bit better. But you had started to sniffle.

“Ha! Payback’s a bitch!” Marcus said when you took your temperature and sighed.

“Marcus. Sit the hell down before you pass out again.”

Marcus sat on the couch, a shit eating grin on his face. “Mhm. Kiss me.”

You raised an eyebrow, crawling across the couch until you were practically on top of Marcus. “Hmm,” you hummed, feeling his body heat underneath you. “Kissing you is what got me sick. I think not.”

You rolled off him, leaving one very betrayed boyfriend behind on the couch.

“Hey wait! You can’t just leave!”

Looking behind you, you smiled as sweetly as you could. “What? I don’t recall doing anything wrong Mr. Moreno.”

Marcus’s face twisted into a feral grin. “Oh you are so lucky that Missy’s in her room. Get over here.”

You laughed as he scooped you up, carrying you to your bedroom. “Marcus! You’re still sick! Be careful!”

Marcus plopped you down on the bed and quickly followed, trapping you under the warm blankets with his own body. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Oh Marcus,” you said, thumbing over the patches in his facial hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too babe, now get some sleep.”

Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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seodami · 3 years

Text

Our story | LSM

Part 1

This is our story. From the day we met till the day we part. Black on white, our most precious moments, never leaving us. I love your forever.

LSM

Genre: fluff, tiny angst

Warnings: 1 swear word oops

Word count: 1644

Pairing: idol!Lee Seokmin x fashion student reader

Note: Yayy this is the first introduction part where you get to know reader a bit better. Let me know other ideas of plots I’m always open and happy to listen :))) enjoy!

Our story masterlist | MASTERLIST

You let out a happy sigh as you sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. The sun was slowly warming up your hair and generally speaking, today was a great day. It was the beginning of spring and you could already see little flowers growing in every corner or see colourful butterflies fluttering around you.

You loved it. So much.

Spring had always been your favorite season. It was never too cold nor too hot.

With a few last steps around a corner, you finally reached your destination. You opened the glass door on which a tiny bell was attached to signify new customers. The smell of fresh baked cookies filled the lovely spring air and immediately let you sight contently once again. You really already loved today.

From behind the counter, your coworker Chohee looked up with a smile and greeted you joyfully like she did every other day you two happened to have the same shift.

It wasn’t too long that you’ve worked in this adorable café to earn some money for university, which was draining literally every cent you earn. It was exhausting at times but you always remembered yourself to stay relaxed and composed. It was for a good reason after all.

You started studying fashion design at university about 2 and a half years ago and what could you say. It was absolutely tiring and weary but you still loved designing all these different clothing pieces with every single inch of your heart.

Your free time was nearly non existent with your job and all the assignments and due dates you constantly had to work and have an eye on. There were days you forgot eating or drinking while overworking yourself immensely, which ended with you waking up in a hospital bed. It wasn’t one of your proudest moments but at least the dress you were working on turned out amazing.

“Today is amazing, isn’t it? I bet there will be a lot of customers today.” Chohee chirped excitedly, looking out the window. You hummed in agreement, having mixed feelings with that new realization.

“I feel surprisingly good today. Even though I stayed up till 3 am. It’s all thanks to your smile unnie.” You gave her a teasing nudge while tying the yellow apron with the sun logo of the café in the middle around your torso.

The girl giggled and gave you a nudge back. “Hey don’t play with my heart that early. I have a date with Sungho later, I still need it.” She grinned at you with that dreamy look of hers.

You shook your head laughing. With that you started preparing everything else for the day to make your shift smoother.

“By the way, how is your mom doing? Do you want to pack some cookies for her again?” Chohee asked you after the first customers of the day ordered.

You nodded with a smile in her direction. “She’s fine. Still working as hard as ever. That was my plan actually. I’m going to go see her later anyways to help her with some grocery shopping.” Helping your mom was never a big deal for you, even if she wanted to do it by herself most of the times. But with working as a house aunty for an idol group of 13 members, it was often hard for her to do the grocery shopping all by herself. Especially when it was time for a bigger shopping trip.

You had told her many times before that she didn’t have to worry about earning money but she kept insisting to support your payments for university. You were always so grateful for her so you were glad to help her out now and then, despite your stressful life at the moment. You loved her for supporting you so much.

“That’s so good to hear. I hope she enjoys our new cookies. I added a special ingredient today, do you know what?” Your nose scrunched up, thinking hard about her special something. “I don’t know... cinnamon?” You took a wild guess.

“It’s loveee...” she giggled and you immediately rolled your eyes with a small smile, which was hard to hide. “Damn you really are in love.” You chuckled patting her shoulder. She let out a long sigh. “Oh yes baby I am.”

When it finally was the end of your shift for today, you quickly changed the apron against your baby blue jacket and headed out without forgetting to say good bye to your friend and wishing her fun on her date.

As you were on your way down the road to your car, you noticed your phone vibrating in your bag. A quick glance told you it was your mom.

You accepted the call with a smile and greeted her cheerfully. “Hi mom, I just finished working. Are you going to the store now?”

You heard her sighting heavily. “Y/n honey no I am actually at the hospital. The doctor said I broke my foot.”

“What? How? Oh god are you okay?” You stopped walking, staring at the ground with a frown. There were the typical peeping noices as we all know them in the background.

“Don’t worry about me, it was just a dumb accident. I slipped on the stairs and fell on my foot. But Y/n I was hoping to reach you. Can you do me a favour?”

You hummed, listening intently. “Sure mom. Are you sure you are alright? Should I pick you up from the hospital?” You would lie if you said you weren’t worried about your mother. It wasn’t common for her to have such accidents or generally needing to go to a doctor.

“No need for that, sweetie. I’m gonna call myself a taxi. But you see, I was heading over to the boys dorms to cook something for them since they must be hungry after their schedule. But I fell on the way there. Could you go over and make something quick for them? I really don’t want to loose my job because of that.” Your heart fell a bit. Cooking for bunch of grown up men with celebrity status? This was definitely not something that stood on your bucked list.

“Mooom... I would love to help you but-“ she quickly stopped you from talking.

“They aren’t even home by this hour. And I’ve told them already a lot about you. So no need to be embarrassed. And you know they are all very friendly. And you could just do something simple like jajangmyeon. They love it. I think they already have all the ingredients at their house.”

Your eyes moved around while thinking. If they weren’t even home yet, this wouldn’t be too bad, would it? And jajangmyeon was really simple and quick. There wasn’t really a way out at this point. You still wanted to help your mom.

“Alright... but if they come too early and see me, I’m out. Mom you know I can’t handle such situations well, unlike you.” You heard a laugh at the other side.

“Thank you Y/n. You won’t have to do it again, I’m going to work tomorrow. And you can do it. You’re such a pretty girl, who wouldn’t love you?”

You groaned with a chuckle. “Oh god mom stop I’m just cooking for them once. I’m heading to the apartment now then.” She laughed and agreed before saying goodbye.

This was really not how you were imagining this day would go but here you were, heading towards an idol groups apartment totally unprepared.

When you arrived, you made sure to ring the bell beforehand to make sure you weren’t intruding anyone’s privacy if someone just happened to be home. Lucky for you, nobody seemed to be home.

With a nervous feeling in the pit of your stomache, you quickly tapped in the password, your mom told you before and entered the flat without much noice. You stood there for a solid minute, listening to any possible sounds before gently chirping a ‘hello?’ into the empty room. No answer. Perfect.

You quickly took off your jacket and shoes as well as bag. With small cautious steps, you made your way to the kitchen. You helped your mom carrying groceries up to the kitchen a few times already so you were quite familiar with the location of said room. Still it felt quite awkward going around someone’s personal space without anyone present and especially without invitation. You know it wasn’t exactly intruding but it still felt like it.

As you started preparing the dish with chopping some vegetables, you remembered the few times you’ve met one of the members. It was brief but still, you remembered it til today. You believe his name was Seungkwan. You talked a bit and he sang your aunty his infamous ‘WiFi song’. It was the first time hearing an idol sing live in some sort of way so it was hard to forget how clean his voice was. And he was nice.

You started softly humming said song, grabbing another potato and began peeling it. It was all fine and good until you heard the quiet squeak of a door. You immediately stopped humming and stared down the hallway towards where the sound came from. Your heart started racing unintentionally and your brain switched to panic mode.

Please just be the wind or something, please don’t be a person, please.

And you knew you were fucked, when you heard someone walking. You quickly looked around panicked, thinking about hiding or running away. Or should you just jump out of the window? Would you get in trouble? God, you definitely would.

But before you could actually jump out of the window, you were met with a sleepy looking and not to mention insanely attractive man. Your heart definitely wouldn’t slow down with this view for sure.

Oh man, how did you even end up in this position?

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tuiccim · 4 years

Text

Brassy (Part 4)

Pairing: Loki X Reader, Bucky X Reader

Words: 1881

Warnings: Language, PTSD, Smut (18+, NSFW), Casual sex, some angst

Summary: You’re in a friends with benefits situation with Loki and some of the other Avengers aren’t happy with the arrangement. Reader and Bucky finally have it out.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

———————————-

You rode Loki until you exhausted yourself. A while later you felt him shift out of the bed. You grab his wrist and say, "Stay."

"What?" He says surprised.

"Stay."

"Are you certain?"

"On one condition."

"Name it, darling "

"Wake me up fucking me."

"My pleasure."

You smile into your pillow and fall asleep.

As promised, you wake up spooned against Loki as he slowly works himself into you from behind. His left arm curled under you playing with your breast and his right hand making slow circles around your clit. "Ohhh…yes." you breath as the pleasure washes over you. Loki continues his ministrations at a leisurely pace while whispering in your ear. "Is this what you wanted, my darling? Hmmm...you're so tight. So perfectly tight. Ohhh. So wet for me, my darling…"

The feeling of his breath on your ear, his hands swirling their magic around your breasts and clit, and the steady rhythm of his cock moving in and out of you drive you to the edge. Your release is strong and prolonged as Loki never pauses from his duties. When he finally succumbs to his own release, you're spent. Eventually, you turn to face Loki. You lean into him for a kiss, saying, "In answer to your question. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted." You say with a soft giggle.

Loki smiles. "Am I being kicked out now?" He asks half-jokingly.

"When do you have to go back?" You ask.

"Tonight."

"Spend the day in bed with me, then." You grin winningly. "Unless you think you'll be bored."

"Not if you're in it with me." Loki pulls you to him and begins nibbling along your collarbone. You hum contentedly and smile knowing the day will be spent pleasurably.

That afternoon you and Loki were sitting on your bed eating the lunch you had brought from the kitchen.

“How come you didn't fall in love with me?” Loki asks.

“Oh, god, where is this coming from?” You say rolling your eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m just curious.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Tony last night. I’m not the fall in love kind.” You say.

“What does that mean?” Loki queries.

You shrug. “It means I don’t fall in love.”

“Ever?”

“Nope. Just, I don’t know, Loki. I feel emotions. I just don't fall in love.” You paused. “Besides, like I said, I’d hate you if you weren’t so good in bed.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He grins.

“True. You are rather fun. I’m glad we’re friends.” You say in a rare moment of transparency.

“With benefits?” Loki says with a smirk.

“Hell, yeah.” You laugh.

Before Loki left that evening he looked at you and said “Next time?” as he always does.

“Look forward to it.” Your rote response.

You are glad to have him as a friend. Loki didn’t judge. You could laugh, make mischief, or just be quiet together. You didn’t have to worry about his emotions running away from him either. You understood each other. Loki made things easy. And that’s the way you liked things.

Sunday morning you, Natasha, Clint, and Sam were sent on a two day mission. Nine days later, you all returned worse for wear but having accomplished your mission. Clint and Natasha helped Sam to the infirmary for some stitches. You went looking for Steve to check in.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., where’s Cap?” you ask.

“Captain Rogers is in the training room.” F.R.I.D.A.Y replies.

You see Steve and Bucky sparring as soon as you walk in. You watch them for a minute and then yell out, “On your six!” distracting Steve and giving Bucky the upper hand. Steve’s back slams onto the mat and you chuckle despite your exhaustion.

“Really, (Y/N)?” Steve rolls to his feet.

“Payback for the shit mission we got.” You counter.

“Everyone okay?” Steve looks at you with concern.

“Sam’s getting a small gash on his leg stitched up but that’s about it. Intel we gathered has been uploaded. I’m going to bed.” You start to turn.

“Rest well.” Steve says. Bucky stayed silent for the entire exchange.

“K, thanks.” You say as you walk away not bothering to turn back. You take a hot shower and hit the sack.

You awake from a nightmare with a start. 3am. You just want more sleep, but knowing it to be futile you decide to head to the kitchen. Your stomach feels absolutely empty and you still feel drained from the mission. It hadn’t been an easy one physically or mentally. You’re nearly finished making a sandwich when Bucky walks in.

“Hey.” you say and turn back to your sandwich.

“Hey.” he says back and goes to the fridge.

“Want a sandwich?” You ask, unsure why you’re offering to make one for the asshat.

“No...thanks.” He says and you see him start to leave.

Setting down the knife and taking a deep breath, you say quietly, “What did I do wrong?”

“What?” Bucky turns back to you.

“What did I do wrong?” You say a little louder.

Bucky stares at you but says nothing.

Frustrated you say, “I’ve wracked my brain. Gone over every discussion and interaction we have had and I can’t figure it out. What did I do to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns to leave.

“Bullshit, Barnes! There has to be some reason you hate me!” You say vehemently. He just keeps walking and your temper gets the best of you. Grabbing your half drunk water bottle, you hurl it at him hitting him square in the back. “Talk to me!”

“Did you throw a water bottle at me?” Bucky says in disbelief.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t the knife, Asshat.” You counter.

“You’ve lost your mind!” Bucky yells.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You holler back.

“I DON’T!” He screams.

“YES, YOU DO!” You scream back.

“WHY HIM?”

You stare at Bucky confused. “Why who?... You mean, Loki?”

"He's using you."

"What? No he's not."

"Yes, he is. He doesn't love you."

"I don't love him. It's not like that."

"What?" Bucky looks at you in shock.

"Loki and I are not together. We're just friends with benefits."

"What the hell are friends with benefits?" Bucky says.

"Fuck buddies. A mutually agreed on arrangement between friends to include sex with no strings and no emotions." You explain.

Bucky gapes at you, "And you don't care what that makes you?"

Your blood runs cold. "What that makes me?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." Bucky backpedals.

"You think there's a name I haven't been called? I was a runaway at 14. How the fuck do you think I fed myself?" You say venomously. "Men used me my entire life. And now that I am the one that says when and who and where, I'm supposed to dress it up with hearts and flowers. Fuck. That. I'll do who and what I want."

"That's not what I meant." Bucky says.

"What did you mean?" You glare at him.

Bucky looks at you and his face softens. "I meant you deserved better. You should be loved."

"Some of us aren't meant to be loved." You turn to go back to the kitchen but Bucky grabs your hand.

"Everyone is meant to be loved. You are meant to be loved." Bucky says quietly.

"No. I'm not." You say pulling your hand away.

"Why would you say that?" Bucky pushes.

"Because I'm not someone people love. I'm not someone anyone loves. I never have been." You explain.

"That's not true." Bucky says.

"Look, Bucky, I know most people grow up with people who love them. But I didnt. I don't deserve love and I don't need it." You finish making your sandwich.

"You're wrong." Bucky turns you around to face him. "God, (Y/N), you're so wrong. You deserve love. You deserve everything."

"You have to see the irony that the guy who hates me is the one telling me I should have love." You scoff.

"I don't hate you." Bucky says.

"Coulda fooled me." You said.

"I was jealous." He confesses. "I was angry you were with Loki."

"Why?" You say, genuinely confused. "Because I wasn't sleeping with you?"

"Because I like you, (Y/N)!" Bucky says exasperated. "You're smart and funny and beautiful and strong."

For a moment you're stunned speechless. You couldn't meet his eyes any longer and looked away. "Don't, Bucky. Don't like me. I'm not the fall in love type. I'm not...I'm not worth your time."

"Can't I be the judge of that?" He asks.

"You don't know anything about me. And if you did, you wouldn't ask that. My past is not pretty." You say.

"I was a brainwashed Hydra assassin. I've got a pretty sketchy past, too."

"You…"

Bucky puts his hands to your lips to stop you. When you finally look up to meet his eyes, he moves his hands to frame your face. "I don't know anything about you? On mission, you are always willing to take the shittiest job to spare anyone else. You bake treats for everyone all the time and know what everyone's favorite food is and how they take their coffee. You go out of your way to help others. You never leave a room without asking if anyone needs something. You go shopping and come back with nothing for yourself but little gifts for everyone else. You always have a joke at the ready but an apology on your lips the minute you think you've offended someone. You have the mouth of a sailor on you but the minute a kid or old folks are around you are the most charming person on the planet. You want everyone to see the brash facade you put up but you wear your heart on your sleeve without even realizing it. Whatever is in your past, is your past. We all make shit decisions in life. The person I see, she's amazing. And she is worthy. And she deserves love. She deserves everything."

You stare up at him and whisper, "I don't see her."

"She's right here. She offered to make this total 'asshat' a sandwich just because he walked in the room. Even though he's been a complete jerk to her."

"Well, Steve always calls you jerk so I figured it was your default."

"There's that humor I mentioned." He stares into your eyes. "Give me the chance to prove you deserve love."

"I'll hurt you." You say shaking your head.

"You're scared. I'm scared, too. We can go as slow as you need." Bucky caresses your jaw.

"I don't know how to do this." You say.

"Let's start by being friends. We'll figure it out as we go." Bucky smiles at you.

You look at him wondering how the hell this just happened but somewhere deep inside you felt a kernal of joy spring forward. Part of you wanted to believe you did deserve everything he was saying. The other part was screaming that this was a trick and you were an idiot.

Bucky can see the war going on inside you. "Gimme a chance, Doll. Please."

You smile at him. "So...you wanna sandwich, asshat?"

Part 5

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cocochannel00 · 4 years

Text

Birthday Surprise

Harry gives (Y/n) a special surprise for her birthday...

It was currently 8 am and you had just gotten off the night shift at the hospital. You loved your job as a nurse, you really did but three-night shifts in a row as left you completely drained and ready to sleep. You had just pulled up to your shared London home with Harry when your phone buzzed with a message from Anne.

Happy Birthday, love, hope you are having a marvelous day. I know this is very last minute but Harry just messaged me saying he is doing a surprise show for the new album tonight at the Electric Ballroom and wanted me to ask if you’d like to come with me? I can pick you up at 5 and we can go to soundcheck if you like? Gives me an excuse to bring over your gift! -Anne

You groaned silently as you dropped your car keys on the kitchen counter. You desperately missed Harry as you hadn’t seen him in the last four months, but all you wanted to do was sleep for your birthday this year. Despite this, you knew you couldn’t give up the chance of seeing Harry especially since you had lost track of what country he was playing in by now. Just as you were about to respond to Anne and reluctantly tell her yes you would go, Harry sent you a text.

Happy birthday, darling, hope you are having a wonderful day. I know you just got off a shift most likely, but Jeff decided to squeeze in a secret show tonight at the Electric Ballroom and I was hoping if you weren’t too exhausted you and mum could come? Can celebrate your birthday after the show if you're not to warn out -H

You smiled at his text. Harry was one of the sweetest people you had ever met and the fact that he wanted you at the show warmed your heart. Making your way into your bedroom you sat down on Harry’s side of the bed and snuggled up to his pillows before responding.

Thank you, Love. Anne just texted me about it so I’ll let her know that I’ll be joining her. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Think I can convince Lambert to let me pick your shirt for the night?

Think we can maybe arrange that for the night, but only because you’re the birthday girl -H

You laughed at his response before sending him a quick message saying you were going to go take a nap before the show. You quickly changed out of your scrubs and jumped in the shower, but not before setting two alarms and responding to Anne’s message. Once you were out of the shower and in one of Harry’s sweatshirts you passed out onto the bed and fell asleep.

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

A loud quaking sound startled you awake as your alarm blared next to you. You rolled over slowly and began rubbing your eyes before shutting off the alarm. After checking the time, you realized you had about an hour before Anne would arrive so you quickly responded to the couple of happy birthday texts you had received and began to get ready.

Unlike Harry, you weren’t known for your extravagant fashion sense so you put on the coziest sweater you could find and a pair of jeans before starting on your makeup.

You heard a ping from your phone just as you were putting on your shoes, so you knew Anne had just arrived. Buzzing her in you quickly began to clean up the clutter you had laying around your kitchen and living room. The doorbell rang just as you attempted to put away one of Harry’s many suitcases he had laying around from the last time he was home. After shoving it deep in your coat closet you ran to the door to great Anne.

“Oh (y/n) you look absolutely stunning! Happy birthday, dear” Anne stated as she wrapped you in a tight hug before handing you a small box.

“Thank you, Anne, but you really didn’t have to” you replied as you began to open the box up.

Inside the box sat a beautiful small blue ring engraved with a wave. Underneath it sat a picture from the last time you and Harry had gone to visit Anne. You were sat on Harry’s lap as Anne and Gemma sat on either side of you while Michael took the picture. You quickly put on the ring and placed the picture on your kitchen counter before giving Anne another hug.

“Thank you, Anne, they’re wonderful” you stated as you squeezed her tight.

“Oh nonsense darling, it’s my pleasure now come on if we don’t hurry we’re going to be late,” she said as she guided you out the door.

———————————————————————

The atmosphere at the Electric Ballroom was incredible and you couldn’t wait to hear Harry perform his album live for the first time. He had sung you a couple melodies here and there during the writing process and he had let you sit in on a couple of studio sessions when you went out to Los Angeles to visit him earlier that year. The only song he had played for you fully was cherry. You had never seen him so nervous about sharing something with you. You knew he had broken up with her a couple of weeks before you had first met him but up until that moment the two of you had never really talked about what had happened. The song was so beautiful and so personal that it felt like you were invading his memories.

Though most of the album was about that rough break up in his life, Mitch had mentioned in passing that he had written a couple about you but you never asked about them. You wondered whether any of them had made it onto the album. Harry had made you promise that you wouldn’t listen to the album until he got back because he wanted to be there in person with you when you listen to it. It took everything in you not to listen to it the minute it came out a couple of days ago. All of your friends were gushing over how amazing it was and Anne even called crying to talk to you about it. The suspense was killing you, but you were happy you would finally get to hear it after so long.

You were aimlessly wandering around the balcony of the Electric Ballroom as the crowd slowly began to file in when Anne came looking for you.

“Went to get a drink and you wandered off. Thought I’d find you up here. Always exploring.” she said as she passed you a drink.

“Sorry, I wanted to see the place before its filled. I can’t wait to see him on stage, he’s going to be incredible” you whisper as you take a sip of your glass.

“He’s waiting for you in the dressing room. He’s very nervous to play it for you. Been calling me on the phone for days about it. The poor thing was worried to invite you in case you don't like it.” Anne replied as you both made your way down to the dressing room.

“I’ve loved every song he’s ever written! Sometimes he’s so dramatic.” you laugh as you show your VIP pass to the security guard.

You and Anne make your way down the corridor, greeting the crew as you go until you find the door labeled ‘Harry Styles’. Anne gives you a kiss on the cheek before she wanders off to go find Jeff. You knock softly on the door as you hear a soft “come in” from Harry on the other side. You slowly turn the door a poke your head in to find Harry sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. You frown slightly at the state he’s in. Closing the door carefully, you walk over to where he’s sitting and take a seat on the coffee table in front of him.

“You know, if I had known you were going to be this nervous I would have brought you a barf bowl from the hospital” you whispered as he whipped his head back to look at you.

He stared at you for a second as if processing what you said before harshly pulling you into his lap, clutching you to his body.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck (y/n) I’ve missed you so much you have no bloody clue. Been an absolute wreck today. Oh, happy birthday love” He whispered as he held your face in his hands and placed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

“I missed you too, H. I need you to relax though, ok? You’re going to be great. Rachel said she saw your show at the forum and she said it was amazing. Every snip and melody you’ve played for me has been wonderful and I’ve loved every piece of it.” you replied back as you caressed his cheek and placed a kiss to his nose.

“I know but tonight’s different, you’re here and moms here and Gemma and I just... oh I almost forgot your gift” he mumbled as he reached into the bag on the floor next to you and pulled out a box.

You opened the box to find a beautiful ceramic pendant necklace. The hexagonal pendant contained a shell-like pattern surrounding a blue circle, green and pink colored details. It reminded you of the ones you saw on your trip through northern Spain. You smiled as you looked at the pendant before Harry helped you put it on.

“Harry it’s beautiful, thank you,” You said before giving him a kiss.

“Keep going, there’s something else in there,” he said with a smirk as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, searching through the box. You found a slip of paper at the bottom of the box and unfolded it. It was a plane ticket to Anguilla for New Years'.

“Harry I don’t..”

“Know you’ve been saving up your vacation days so I talked with your friend from work, Margret, and she said that she talked with your head nurse and that if you wanted you could take a week or week and a half and come with me. I didn’t want to make any decision for you so I said I’d call her with your decision so if you don’t want to that’s not a-” he began but you cut him off.

“Yes”

“Yes, you’ll come?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, I’ll come. God, I love you, thank you” you replied back just as a knock sounded on the door.

“If you two love birds are done having sex we need Harry out here. Going to start the set in 15 minutes” Mitch yelled through the door.

“I’m going to go so you can finish up and so I don’t wrinkle your suit anymore. Thank you for the lovely gifts. I’ll see you out there soon. I love you.” you said as you got up and made your way to the door.

“I love you too, (y/n)” he replied.

You couldn’t get the smile off of your face as you made your way back to the balcony where Gemma, Michael, and Anne were waiting for you. You walked past a crowd of girls before making your way over to them. Gemma spotted you first and quickly came up to hug you and wish you a happy birthday followed by Michael. Anne gushed over the necklace Harry gave you as you told them about the surprise trip he had also gotten you. As the four of you continued talking the lights in the room flickered and the opening notes of what you assumed was Golden began to play.

“You’re going to love it,” Gemma said as she gave you a big hug.

“I know I will” you replied as you listened to Harry begin to sing.

You were a little more than halfway through the show and you had already cried at least three times. Every song played like a movie in your head. The songs were so beautiful and the lyrics were so much more personal than his first album. Harry had just finished singing two of your favorites so far “Falling” and “To Be So Lonely” and was now talking to the audience.

“I wanted to thank everyone again for coming tonight. London has always made me feel like home and I’m so happy I could share this album and these songs with you all. I thought I’d switch it up a bit tonight so the next song I’m going to sing is called “Sunflower, Vol. 6″ and it’s a very special song to me because I wrote it about a very special person. Now, this person is here tonight and it’s the first time they’ve heard any of the songs on the album. It’s also this person’s birthday so I wanted to wish them a big happy birthday as well. I’m a bit nervous about playing it, but here we go” he spoke into the microphone before giving the band a nod to start.

You were already in tears before he even began to sing. Anne had you wrapped in her arms and had offered you a napkin to wipe your tears. Harry looked up at you the whole time, trying to gauge your reaction. He saw you crying while his mom gave him a thumbs up, telling him you liked it and by the end when he had you laughing with the silly noises he was singing he knew he had gotten it right.

Every song was just as amazing as the next and when Harry brought out Stormzy to play a couple of songs you don’t think you could have screamed louder even if you tried. Harry finished his encore and thanked the crew, the band, and his fans before giving one last wave. After he had left the stage for good the lights came on and people began to make there way home.

“Well go down and greet him, you look like you about to explode. We’ll meet you down there soon” Gemma laughed as you nodded and all but sprinted towards the stairs. You raced down the corridors and flashed the security guard your badge again before running towards the backstage area. Once you spotted Harry’s bright yellow pants you all but tackled him to the ground, grabbing his face harshly and planting a strong, heated kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and released your lips with a laugh.

“Can I assume that you liked it then?” he asked with a smile on his face.

“Loved. I loved it, Harry. Every single one was amazing. Your poor mother was probably sick of passing me napkins to wipe my face. Loved it all.” you replied as you hugged him tightly.

Just as Harry was about to speak a man placed a hand on his shoulder.

“This your girl, Harry?” asked Stormzy as he smiled at the two of you.

“Yeah. (Y/n) meet Michael otherwise known as Stormzy” Harry stated as he held you to his chest.

“Pleasure meeting you, love. Heard it’s your birthday too so happy birthday” Stormzy said.

“Oh my god, thank you. Sorry, I just love your music” you replied back quickly, almost jumping with excitement.

“Well thank you very much, appreciate it. You two have fun” Stormzy stated as he waved and walked away from the two of you.

“Oh my god, Stormzy just wished me happy birthday. Did that really just happen? Harry do you know who that is?!” you said in shock as Harry laughed.

“Yes, Love, I do know who that is. Brought him on stage and everything. How did you like “Sunflower, Vol. 6?” he asked slightly anxious.

“You saw me cry through the whole thing, bloody loved it. Can’t believe you wrote a song about me and managed to keep it a secret. It was wonderful, and the lyrics and the kisses in the kitchen just made me remember why I missed you so much. Can’t wait to have you back for a little while” you said as you kissed his cheek softly.

“Get to have me all to yourself in Anguilla in a couple of weeks. Hope that partially makes up for me being away so long”

“Harry you don’t have to apologize or make up for anything. I knew what I signed up for with you and I am so unbelievably proud of you and this album and I don’t think I’ll ever stop listening to it. I do have one question though about my song?” you said.

“What is it, love?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“When did you come up with all of those noises at the end?”

Harry laughed. “Oh, you made those one time when you were playing with James’ daughter Charlotte and I guess they just stuck. Think it was also one of the first times I realized I was in love with you”

“Well I am very in love with you Mr. Harry Styles so thank you for making this an absolutely amazing birthday.”

“I love you too (Y/n), very much. Now, come on let's go mingle a bit before my mom thinks we’ve run away and elope” he replied, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea” you whispered in his ear before you released him and sauntered away with a smirk.

“No it would not” he mumbled as he followed after you.

Masterlist

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles masterlist #Harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept

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itsthe-neo-zone · 4 years

Text

Wands and Potions: NCT dream & WayV

Please read the Masterlist before continuing ahead with the chapter, thank you.

Chapter 18:

[02:16PM]

[20th of October]

“Do you even know what he was using the tentacle juice for?”

The huffs became frequent and the more Lyra questioned the more Selene became tired. Was this really necessary? And why was she being so unbelievably nosy?

“No, and frankly I don’t need to know.” the walking stopped halting the trail the two created in the thick fluffy snow that covered the earth. “because I don’t care.”

“You should, Liu could be plo-” a snicker stopped Lyra’s chapped lips from blurting her thoughts. “Plotting? Is that what you were going to say? He’s plotting against me. Or maybe its against you? Or even Jinsoul.” The words spat back at Lyra.

The brunette took her lips between her teeth, her fingers took the red and golden threads of the scarf wrapped across her chest, fiddling with the bare edges. Selene was already on edge and the change of demeanour pushed her off.

“Hey, I’m not going to feel sorry for you, so don’t give me that pathetic look.” Her fingers ran through her golden roots, her hair had turned a shade darker with the coming of winter making it lose the fiery glimmer in it.

“You all need to stop telling me how to act or feel.” She rolled her eyes leaving the brunette standing there stiff and alone, the only speck of colour on a blank sheet of white for miles.

The creaking door slid open letting a gust of cold biting chill mix in with the heated warmth of the shop. The three broomsticks was a place where the youngsters could chill and relax. The ancient and rustic feel made it close to home for some.

It wasn’t the same for Selene.

“You need to start talking to her again, Scorpius you can’t just igno-” “Oh but he can,” she shuddered, the witch dropped the scarf and slid the robes off her shoulders setting them next to her. Sparing a glance at Albus, Selene sympathised with the blonde boy before her.

“And why is that?”

“She’s being awfully nosy, quite bitchy too.”

“Just because you aren’t on good terms it doesn’t mean he has to ignore his own sister.” Albus shuffles closer his tone drops to a minimal whisper. Selene rubbed her hands trying to heat up the ice cold blue tinted flesh.

“Also, what happened to innocent sweet Selene?”

“Oh her?” her arm lifted to signal the server, “she’s usually what most see if they don’t know me too well. Ask Scorpius.”

The glance left Selene and moved towards the empty blonde boy next to him. No response came. His head lulled above his fist pushing the skin upwards, hair covering his glacier orbs.

“You ok?” the ginger placed her hand upon his, she felt his fingers twitch, there was no warmth in his touch. Inside her chest, the breathing became a little harder, an exasperated sigh left her.

“It’s hard, I know. but you have to believe your father did this for a good reason. And now you can let her move in, you’ve always said you wanted a sister.”

“Move in? After my mother’s death?” his voice dripped with poison. It was a little loud gaining attention from the tables nearby. Jisung sent the most blood curdling nape shivering stare at Selene from across the bar. His eyes were hard-rimmed and fixed, so much so that it was as if he was not able to move his eyeballs.

If looks could kill. The ginger would have disintegrated instantly.

So would Albus have with what Scorpius was sending him.

“Keep it down a little.”

“I am not going to replace my mother any time soon.” He spat back.

“You need her, Scorpius think about it, she will help you and your father get through this. Lyr-” the death glares the two sent made him rethink his choice of words. “Ehem… I- mean she is a girl after all.”

Selene sipped the jug of glowering orange liquid letting it sting the back of her throat slightly. She needed it. Secretly, it was the only thing she was feeling nowadays.

“Rose Weasley can take her in. After all, the two are half-sisters.” His voice was stiff and cut at the end, it was like his throat was clogged. Scorpius hated this topic. He didn’t want to talk about it.

The others sensed that.

“And you, cut the long night walks with that German Durmstrang boy.”

“Whys that? Am I bothering you in any way?”

“No actually, its not me you’re bothering but-” A hand slapped the two lips that were moving of their own accord. Selene didn’t think nothing of it, but she missed the alarmed state that Albus was in.

“You shouldn’t be walking around he grounds late at night. Its dangerous.”

“Did little miss snitch tell you I was sneaking out late? I knew it!” she turned to the deflated boy. “This is why you shouldn’t talk to her just yet.” She finished her words with another gulp taking in the tingling sensation.

“Selene, I’m being serious, it shouldn’t matter who told me, this is for your own safety.”

“Why does everyone hate him so much?” the witch continued taking larger gulps the farther she got towards the bottom of the cup.

“Can you calm down; you must be really thirsty.”

Selene chuckled but before a word could be uttered, she lifted the closest free hand towards her head, she felt dizzy and her eyes were going blurry.

“Why’s everything spinning?” a murmur left her lips. It was mumbled aloud. A chair dragging across the wooden polished floor was heard in the distance and someone’s figure made their presence known next to her.

“Did she drink from this?” snatching the cup from the table Chenle grabbed it sniffing the few sips left in the cup.

“Yeah, why?”

Selene didn’t see the glare sent towards the table chenle was situated at before he came over, she also didn’t see the way he dropped the few paper bills on the table.

She did feel his strong hand grasp tightly onto her arm and shoulder helping her out of her chair. The daze she was in was getting stronger. Her knees felt week from the sudden force of standing but she pushed through on his command.

“Whats going on?” the question was left unanswered as she was dragged out tumbling next to him as they ventured into the freezing cold.

She had left her robe and scarf at the bar, shivering and dizzy Selene moved to lean onto his arm. Sliding the other across her waist he pulled her to a nearby stable.

“Why did you drink it knowing its full of poison?” he strained. She wasn’t on good terms with him. Actually, she despised the blonde mixed boy.

“Answer me!” his voice rose. Selene couldn’t really see that well her head was pounding, and it was starting to get even worse.

“I-I can’t see clearly. My eyes…” “What… whats going on?” she lifted her fingers to eyes level but all she saw was a messy blur of what used to be HD clear vision. Thin strips of cream-brown against white.

“You took a morbus potion. From your symptoms only a few drops, too much could have killed you.” A silent pause registered between the two, she was confused and the last few words he had said really hit clear. I could have died; I never finished the glass. I could have…

“I’ve taken no such thing.”

“It was in the drink,” his voice was hard, it was like he had a rock lodged in his mouth. “Someone must have slipped it in.”

“I feel like I-” holding her lips shut with her hands she felt something sinister crawl up her throat it blocked her breathing and restricted her normal body flow. Defying gravity and her disaccord of its appearance. Please no, not here…

“Get it out of your system.” His tone lightened slightly, or maybe it was her hearing things. Why would his tone change anyway Selene was over listening into things that didn’t matter right now.

“Take this.” He handed her a bottle it contained a liquid of some sort that didn’t look too familiar, she stared at it cautiously as if it would transfigure into a centipede.

“I don’t want to.”

She was able to push down the thick trickling of crimson blood

“It’s already gone this far, how do I know this isn’t going to kill me?” Selene didn’t move her head she just lifted her eyes staring him up, the trust was gone. It was hidden, locked away until he took the key out. But she didn’t expect the answer he gave her…

He sighed dropping his hand before looking away his eyes glanced anywhere but her face. The breath that left his dry, chapped lips evaporated into smoke coalescing itself into the air.

“Good point,” he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Why would I stop you from drinking the rest of the jug back then?”

Selene glanced down, his face had no show of remorse and it had a blank expression plastered onto it. She couldn’t maintain eye contact at all. It felt pointless.

His words made sense though…

“Drink it all.”

Listening to him, she took the first sip hesitantly, not minding the bitter taste. It felt heavy on her tongue but she too it in accepting it was good for her.

“You’ll be alright.” he muttered the words, in the wintery cold that surrounded them Selene felt her heart warm up slightly. She would never admit it now but it felt nice having someone look out. Even if it was with a frown and a dry response.

[09:15PM]

Selene felt drained. Absolutely exhausted and while she did love nothing but a good rest she still had to do her night duties before she finally could rest this included the lengthy check and route of the whole 2nd floor and near the library.

It would have been 10 times easier- not to mention faster- if it wasn’t for the bratty 3rd year that refused to help her out. The job was specifically made for two yet she never showed up. But the ginger couldn’t bring it in her debilitated self to spend any longer than necessary looking for the young student.

“For fuck sake…” selenes face fell completely. She was aggravated to the max now, which can be added to the list of emotions she was feeling. The last thing she’d expect to see was the young student supposed to be helping her helping her own needs.

The sound of lips against lips filled the air and half of her internally cringed, the lewd sounds filling the air too fast to comprehend. God did she wish to wash out her ears with soap. But as she left a figment of her imagination removed the figure of the male student much older than the girl and placed a charming and devilish German student that had been taking up to much of her mind lately.

For a short second, it was barely comprehensible. his light caress and soft touch was all she yearned for. She shook her head continuing all the rounds she needed to finish. The guilt inside her built up daily but she pressed it down.

During the cold and wintery days. The gloom that was slowly being foreshadowed around the castle, Yangyang was the only source of happiness and joy she found. He filled her with something so intangible and sensual it was so difficult to describe.

And Selene felt herself change bit by bit, she tried to subconsciously hold back. Avoiding him on certain days and cancelling scheduled meet ups but it was inevitable, Yangyang was slowly yet voraciously devouring every inch of her being. She could feel it in the way she looked at him. The way her thoughts where changing. Her desires were developing.

Something once so innocent – a touch from him – a simple sensory fondle. Turned into a carnal and instinctual hunger that he had awoken in her. What was I turning into?…

[Selene Pov]

I felt that relief I craved for when I entered the dorms. Red or green it never mattered when I was weak in the knees. I looked at my bed like a man who was stranded in the dessert looked at fresh water.

“Look who’s here...”

“Please don’t start.” I knew this was going to be rough getting past the two crow-like girls at their beds but I didn’t expect their beady eyes glaring in the pitch dark the cool toned shadow casting harsh shapes across their faces.

“What?”

“We know what you borrowed.” A sigh left her lips as Jinny finished speaking, but the sly raven next to her muttered “She really stole it…” “Ravelle!”

“I didn’t do anything.” A frustrated exhale left my own lips. They wouldn’t know a thing because I never let them know about anything. It wasn’t their business.

“Does this ring a bell to you?” Ravelle stood up waving a slither of tentacula its sticky residue dripping from its end.

“Yeah.” I simply muttered, shrugging and to Ravelle’s shock. She probably thought I was going to deny everything.

“It’s what you mix every morning to slap” I lightly tapped my fingers onto her cheeks “onto your face, what was it for again- oh right. Your beautiful visuals… right?” I rolled my eyes after feigning thought.

The sniggers didn’t go unnoticed from Jinny who had rolled back onto her bed fully. The glimmer in her beading eyes was picked up by the light rays of moonlight sheathed inside.

“Don’t you dare make fun of my natural face masks and answer me truthfully.” Her voice picked up in volume.

“You’re pathetic.” Ravelle spat back after no response from me.

“You’d really love to know what was in that wrap I held before, don’t you?” I edged coyly. I loved having her on edge like this. But it wouldn’t last too long…

“Sit down.”

I motioned to sit down pointing for her to do as I say.

“There’s no point in getting mad now since it’s already over. There is nothing you could do about it.” I couldn’t help but stop myself from giggling slightly. It was too good.

“I gave the wrap of tentacula away. It wasn’t for me anyways.” I smiled

Ravelle started feeling uncomfortable, she shifted from her position awkwardly. Blinking multiple times.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean Gryffindor or any house for a matter of fact is going nowhere. This year belongs to Durmstrang and I just made sure they got a head start.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Ravelle’s eyes went as wide as saucers, “What have you done? Selene!” Jinny’s voice piped up for the first time, the shriek in her voice prominent.

“You’ll find out soon.” I sniggered, a smirk coming up to form at my lips.

“Shit shi- Guys! You won’t believe this!” the doors to the main dormitories slam open and in came a breathless and beyond petrified Irene, the young girl held her posture against her shaking knees.

The worry evident in her chewed dry lips and pale yellow face. A few more moments and it looked like she was about to throw up.

“They, the- oh god.” It’s like realisation flushed her face, Irene was gobsmacked she frowned glancing at the two girls that were accusing me. Jinny flipped over to see the ghastly expression Irene adorned.

“What is it, spit it out already!”

“James. And uh- Well James potter and his friends they got severely injured.”

“WHAT?” the screech was pitched so high I was surprised it didn’t shatter the clouded glass of the window. All three of us flinched.

“Calm down Ravelle,” Jinny pushed past, fixing her hair. She smiled gently towards the terrified girl. “How did they get injured, tell me what happened clearly” after a few seconds of sharp breaths, Irene spoke shuddering the words I had wanted to hear since I gave the plant to him.

“Well, they got injured last night in the pre battle for the lead in the tournament. Someone had put a certain strange plant in their soup.”

“It was- uh… it’s almost fatal for some.” The last few words were muttered but I heard everything as clearly as I could.

At some point I doubted myself, my ears had to be making up sounds for me to hear and feel accomplished. It couldn’t have worked that well.

“It wasn’t just them. The other houses reported similar symptoms to them earlier.” Another young Gryffindor peeped through the wooden door squeaking quietly.

“Get lost pipsqueak!” Ravelle threw the remains of tentacula at the doorway, “I’ll deal with you later. You’ve done something!”

Her eyes screamed anger she was Enraged, Ravelle hit boiling point. Her body buzzing with a fury that could only be calmed with the sight of her secret lover safe.

“Yeah yeah,” I waved my hand swatting her as she stormed off. She couldn't do a thing.

This was only the beginning of things…

@ajuniceuajuniceu @kkuljungwoo @sensiblebutch @kangkinoa @nctzen2020 @mystic-jungkook @merryandhappylele @bcbymingi @mochischeeks @rilakunma @jaehyunspaghetti @commentgirl @99jjh @johnnys-wifeu @misaraem @apricottulips @h2ogamergirl@angelsnowflake

(if you want to be added to the taglist please send in an ask or direct message me thanks)

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

Vogue (Harry styles x Reader)

Requested: No

Warnings: nope, just fluff and an exhausted reader and my English/grammar

My Masterlist

Fame had always been exhausting. But this week it just had reached an almost unbearable point where I just wanted to snuggle myself into a blanket, fall asleep and don't wake up again. The press, the expectations, the paparazzi, even the fans were just too much. Everyone expected that new music would be written soon, new songs recorded and tour dates for an eventual album fixed. It was just...a lot. And today there was another interview to do, one with Vogue. Not that this wasn't cool, it's just another thing to do, another thing stacked on top of my responsibilities. a few seconds ago my manager had informed me again that this would be a partner interview, but it didn't faze me much. The interview was from this new series of interviews they did with different celebrities: a room full of pillows and mattresses where you just laid and answered questions. The celebrity would dress comfy and cosy. The whole point was basically to archive a relaxed atmosphere so „we" as in celebrities would spill as much as possible. Just because we felt comfortable. They would always pair up two people, but neither of them was informed on who that partner would be. The thing with the comfy clothes by the way was a joke. No one dressed in his pjs or went without makeup. Neither did I. But I insisted on no makeup, because I wanted to be able to snuggle myself in those blankets. I also decided to wear a comfortable two piece, which looked fashionable enough without being tight and stiff in all the wrong parts...not gonna have that. Who my partner will be, would reveal time: I'll meet him or her at vogues. I pushed my hair from my face away and quickly skimmed over my Twitter. Again, thousands of tweets were tagging me at something, messages had been sent privately and people had retweeted, liked or commented one of my tweets. In the beginning of my career I had sometimes answered those private messages, on twitter and Instagram. But it had become nearly impossible to continue this habit. There were just too many. Sure I tried but it was mostly the lack of sleep that made me drop my phone during tipping and sent me away in deep, dreamless hours which weren't long enough. A maximum of five hours was common, there had been days I haven't slept a solid two hours. The downside of touring, definitely.

A door opened and a friendly young woman welcomed me. She immediately guided me from the room „backstage" to the actual set, a flat pool filled with stuffed pillow-chains, welcoming me to jump into them. She advised me to wait at the corner right next to the door, whilst they still set up cameras and microphones. Suddenly some walked right into my back, the hard push causing me to stumble forwards, almost falling down. Luckily, the person who collided with me, grabbed my arm and prevented me from it. „M'so sorry I haven't seen yeh...my thoughts were somewhere else. Yeh okay?" I smiled up into a slightly worried face. Green eyes, brown, curly hair, broad shoulders and a silky, very feminine shirt (or more like, blouse). Mr Harry Styles. „I am fine, don't worry. I guess...you are my interview partner?" he smiled shyly and nodded. „Looks like it. Very nice to meet you." he went in for a slightly awkward hug, both of us still very shy. „Likewise. Do you think they are ready for us?" he shrugged, peeking around the corner. "Yeah they are. Let's do this." A small flutter of excitement sparked in me and I nodded quickly, following him on set.

The interview started with Harry and me being introduced to the camera before we both spoke a quick intro for the format snuggling ourselves into the comfortable pillows. The interviewer, a kind looking guy in his thirties sat on a chair a bit higher than us and not visible for the camera. He then quickly welcomed us, just for the sake of the camera. "Now, have you two met before?" Harry and I both shook our heads. "I have never met him in a closer way, just spotted on the red carped maybe." I explained and Harry nodded. "Yes me too. But I am very glad that we actually meet now, I really like your music." I could feel a proud smile spreading on my lips at his words. "That really honours me, I am serious. Not to sound cliché, but I listen to you quite often. Meet me in the hallway is one of my favourites." Harry had a pleasantly surprised look on his face. "Oh really? What do you listen to the least?" he then asked cheekily and I grinned. "Sign of the times. Terrible song, absolutely not Pop-Award worthy." Harry now had an amused sparkle in his eyes. "Oh you think so?" I nodded eagerly. "Sure." He faked a disappointed expression before sighing deeply. "Guess I should end my career as musician and go back to baker." I giggled, nudging his arm playfully before turning back to the interviewer who watched us with mild amusement.

The interview went flawless, the questions were never boring or inappropriate. But since I had just little sleep per day due touring i , I felt myself growing tired. The pillows and the generally relaxed vibe in the studio were calming to no end and not helping with keeping me awake. I yawned tiredly, making Harry look over. "Tired?" I nodded sleepily, giving him an exhausted smile. "Want another pillow?" he asked patting on a pillow next to him. I wasn't quite sure if he was inviting me to come a bit closer or if I was just interpreting that because I could use a little cuddle right now. I nodded with a shrug, deciding to just scoot over. "Okay wait I can throw...or you could just do that." Harry said with an amused chuckle. I laughed quietly sitting up again in attempt to move away again. "I am just joking, I'll move over again..." but Harry just shrugged, suddenly seeming a bit nervy. "Oh I don't mind, you can stay here if you feel comfortable." I could see the hint of a blush spreading on his cheeks as he sucked his lip between his teeth, chewing almost apprehensively. I could feel my heart speed up when I carefully leaned back into his stretched arm. I gave him a quick smile, trying my best not to show how much of adoration I just felt for that curly haired man. "Thanks Harry, I really appreciate it. Oh and I am not trying to make a move on you, just for the record." I quickly said towards the camera. Harry gave me a slight nod, the corners of his lips twisting up. "All good love." The interviewer had watched us wordlessly before speaking up again "And you really don't know each other?" the interviewer asked again, surprise clearly displayed on his features. Harry and I nodded again and the interviewer nodded. "Okay, adorable. Ready for yet another question?" I nodded, leaning affectionately against Harry's chest. I could feel his arm tighten just a little bit, but it made me smile. "Hit us." Harry laughed softly. "Alright. You both are on tour at the moment right? How is it going so far?" I let Harry answer first this time and closed my eyes. To be honest, I haven't felt so relaxed in weeks. "It's going well...yeah it's great. I always liked this part of my job the most, even though I have now found the beauty in studios. Performing live is still my number one favourite thing to do. It just can get very exhausting sometimes. The traveling, jetlag, the rush and well, performing as well is very draining." I nodded approvingly. "Yeah the lack of sleep...I love touring as well, it's an incredible feeling to connect with fans like that. They definitely make it all worth it. It really is the lack of sleep that's sort of a killjoy." Harry hummed approvingly "Yea sleep's a problem." The interviewer nodded seriously. "So how much sleep do you get on a average day on tour?" Harry shrugged softly. "Around five to six hours on good days. Being solo and doing your own thing drastically extended my sleep." I looked up at him. "Same here, maybe five or six. Pardon me, but what exactly do you mean with the drastic extension of your sleep schedule since being solo?" The interviewer said nothing and just let us talk. "With One Direction we slept around four hours per day since we had very early morning and late nights. We always toured and similarly recorded a new album, especially the last one was hard because of that." I nodded slowly. "So it's literally Made in the A.M.?" Harry nodded. "Yeh." Was his quick response before we both looked back towards the interviewer. "How are you still able to perform on that lever with so little sleep?" he asked us. "I guess it's partly the adrenaline rush you get when you go on stage. But also you learn to live with it and fall asleep when and where ever. I wouldn't go so far and say that you get used to it, but you learn how to handle. But I guess its still very unhealthy for the longer run and it makes you pretty vulnerable and sensitive. Or so I experienced it." The interviewer nodded and looked at Harry. "I second that. I think you can't really consider it being as hard as suffering from insomnia for example, but it's definitely hard." I closed my eyes during the time Harry talked and just listened to the steady beat of his heart. It was incredibly calming and it caused my eyes to grow heavy and sink shut slowly making me drift off. "However I think...love? Ye're not falling asleep on me are you?" Harry suddenly asked and I snapped up, embarrassment making my cheeks grow hot. "I am really sorry oh god. I am just very, very tired...what was the question again?" people around us from the vogue team, including the interviewer and Harry laughed. "No problem. You mentioned something about being more sensitive and vulnerable with the lack of sleep. How do you mean that?" he asked kindly. "Well, when you live the life of a public figure, if you like it now or not, you are pretty much all day and all night watched. And judged and criticised for literally everything you do, or not do. Everyone seems to look at his opinion as especially important and significant and feels the urge to share it with the world. All that, protected by the anonymity of the internet. Suddenly everyone has balls." I quickly pressed my hand over my mouth. "Sorry I should not swear." The interviewer waved it off. "Don't worry about that, we can beep it out. Carry on." I nodded reassured, clearing my throat. The topic had me worked up quickly. "Okay great. Back to the internet; I think its pretty cool that everyone can share their thoughts for everyone to see, I really do. It gives everyone a certain degree of liberty, which is important don't get me wrong. I just feel like it gets a bit too much when people twice my age blindly degrade me for how I dress or how I look. Like, I haven't asked, can you get on with your life now, I am also not constantly judging you, or am I? It's really sickening, let me tell you." Harry had started to draw soothing circles on my back, grinning softly about my sudden outburst. "I don't struggle with criticism, I feel like its important or else you lose sight of what's really important in life. But with what I do struggle, is hate. I have never, do not and will never understand the concept of projecting all of your failed dreams, flaws and blemishes in form of jealously drenched hate on one person. She's too skinny, She dresses too revealing...can't you just stop and concentrate on becoming a supportive, nice person? Just let me live for god's sake!" I pushed out frustrated. Harry hummed softly, now carefully caressing my hip, circling softly over my hipbone. I took a deep breath, trying to fully collect myself again. "I am sorry I went off on that like this, but it really bothers me." I finished and the interviewer nodded understandingly. "I absolutely agree. Just speak freely, no one will be stopping you." I gave him a small smile but shook my head. "No I got to stop now. I really need media training, urgently." Harry's laugh vibrated through my body making me smile a bit. Almost as suddenly as my energy came back, it left again, leaving me even sleepier than before. I relaxed completely in Harry's arm, head leaned against his chest again. Harry just pulled me a bit closer, now resting his head on top of mine. I wasn't entirely sure if he was just doing it out of reflex but I felt a deep wave of comfort and relaxation wash over me. A state of raw happiness came over me and I thanked whatever powers made this meeting happen. There wasn't any sexual tension between Harry and I, no one tried to seduce the other one or flirt in any way. But we both responded excellently on each other, almost as if we would actually be friends for longer than maybe an hour. The interviewer seemed to catch on my state of mind and immediately asked me about it. "Are you feeling good? You look very relaxed." I nodded quickly, squinting up at Harry to give him a smug look. "I really am, I have never had such a relaxed interview in my life and I don't ever want it to end." Harry grinned and nodded. "Yeah me neither. I could definitively get used to it." The interviewer smiled happily, but then gave us a bit of a sad look. "That really honours me guys...the thing is only that our time is almost over. I am sorry." I pouted disappointed, leaning back at Harry's chest as if to protest. "That's too bad really." Harry said with a sigh, not making any effort of getting up or letting me go. Not that I wanted though, it was just nice to know that it was mutual. "Well I am afraid so. But anyways, thank you for tuning in and a big thank you to your two guests for joining today. Have a nice day, until next time." The interviewer spoke fluently, ending the interview skilled. Harry and I waved into the camera with both big, but sleepy smiles. I knew from watching previous episodes that they would now let the camera roll for about thirty seconds to blend this in as a little special in the end, after the outro. "We should record a song together soon." Harry suddenly said, wrapping the other hand around me no as well. I nodded softly, a smile spreading on my lips. "I would love that." I answered and could feel him taking a deep breath. "And maybe also go for tea together...if you like only, I mean I could understand if you couldn't I just heard about busy schedule and touring..." I chuckled softly, turning my face towards him. His eyes were fixed on the fabric of my pants and a soft blush had crept up his neck, softly colouring his cheeks. "I would love that too Harry. Very much actually." I then answered before pressing a quick peck on his reddened cheek. Harry's dimples only deepened as he threw me a smug look.

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #reader insert #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #one direction imagine #imagines #tell me what you think #feedback is greatly appreciated #how did I do btw #harry edward styles

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crimeronan · 4 years

Note

i wanna hear more about your headcanon of declan as autistic (no pressure! only if u want to)

oh ariana we’re really in it now

not all of these bullet points are specifically related to autism bc this just turned into a post about how fond i am of declan. however. autistic declan lynch rights here we go

speech

declanisms

really, keeping a list of action-based conversation starters to meet your goals that all sound like something a caricature of a high-level business executive would say... honey

memorizing clever turns of phrase and the cadence of storytelling

and refusing to ever use this love of language in public lest it make him vulnerable or ruin anything he’s built

having practiced regulating his vocal tone and inflection to make them both as normal and as free of personality as possible

being unable to modulate his vocal tone and inflection when he’s Not actively concentrating on regulating them - speaking impulsively from a place of upset, getting excited about things, etc

physicality

having also practiced his physicality to appear as unthreatening and unobtrusive as possible

mirroring strangers, casual acquaintances, criminal associates

actively schooling himself not to talk with his hands; natural storytelling comes with gesturing and physical involvement

having pleasant conversations and being pleasant to exist around while managing to have absolutely no friends

anxious stomachaches

nervous tics

refusing to allow himself comfortable clothing or a comfortable living space despite seeming to want these things

deciding he can have nice shoes, as a treat (doesn’t have anything to do with neurodivergence i just think it’s cute)

internal emotions

Everything Is Horrible, All The Time, But That’s Fine Because That’s Just How Life Is For Me And I’ve Accepted It

deeply unhappy, deeply bored, deeply exhausted, deeply terrified

given up on dreams and ambitions because they will never be accessible to someone like him (one of those things that in-narrative isn’t autism-related, but sure can be a hashtag relatable feel)

happiness, excitement, joy, any positive emotions are all “dangerous” because they represent a loss of control

zero to one hundred IMMEDIATELY in terms of anger, manic excitement, terror, misery, self-flagellation

constantly self-regulating, compartmentalizing, putting aside, and refusing to act on emotions despite feeling Incredibly Deeply

anxiety

obsessing, catastrophizing, making contingency plans, exploring bad outcomes, regretting past actions literally every single second of every day

aforementioned physical anxiety manifestations

resigned to ronan and matthew’s eventual deaths even when things are Mostly Okay

convinced that if and when something happens to ronan or matthew, it will be his fault

none of these things are autism-related specifically, there’s just something in his repetitive thoughts / methods of self-soothing / ways of internalizing trauma that's..... a feeling

child development

one of those kids who would have been called “precocious”

had developed a system for watching/protecting ronan and trying to convince ronan not to dream things by age five

specific interests in things deemed uninteresting or unimportant

didn’t engage in the same play behavior most kids his age would

got overwhelmed and cried over liking a gift too much

consciously aware of niall’s disdain for him, aurora’s ephemeral nature, and ronan’s dangerousness to himself at age five

some of these things are definitely exacerbated or fully caused by a childhood of emotional neglect and endangerment; autism reading integrates with this rather than replacing it. i strongly feel declan would still have been a “precocious” child with a healthy happy parental upbringing as well

sense of responsibility

extremely stressed by any situation he can’t control

will attempt to control situations beyond his jurisdiction to minimize this

studies so many parenting books after technically becoming ronan and matthew’s caretaker because he has no frame of reference for parenting and does not trust his instincts

“if you want something done right, do it yourself” a life motto by declan lynch

“everything is my fault, all the time” a life motto by declan lynch

“except when it’s dad’s or ronan’s fault” a pretty fair addendum by declan lynch

mental stimulation

so unbelievably bored with his life situation

THRILLED any time he gets to play games or engage in clever conversation - seen a little in his “crime makes me feel alive” vibes, his back-and-forth banter with jordan

won’t let himself get engaged in things because passion feels unsafe

enjoys himself for about one hour of one single night and then immediately starts cracking to pieces about how living in a constant state of mental dissatisfaction is killing him slowly

somehow manages to be surprised by this turn of events

interests

he hides art he loves in a murder attic like a feral cat who refuses to eat in front of people. i don’t even need to get into this

absolutely immediately enchanted to the point of self-labeled stupidity by watching jordan paint

infodumping about art history

trading art interests with jordan bc he’s legitimately interested and excited by what she knows and feels passionate about

this entire post should just be the murder attic. declan oh my fucking god

aforementioned collecting of language he likes

the whole tyrian purple thing. again. declan oh my fucking god

emotional intimacy

craves emotional intimacy but is TERRIFIED of being known and/or being rejected

is convinced he can never and will never have emotional intimacy in his life

has all the stamina of a wet tissue in terms of keeping his emotional secrets when jordan cottons onto them

gets annoyed by relationships with people who want emotional connection but continues playacting through the motions of said relationships in the hopes of being less lonely

comforting people / expressing genuine care

declan attempted to dispense comfort. “everybody dies, matthew”

i have to put attempted to dispense comfort on the list again. oh my god. to declan’s brain, emotional comfort is a vending machine that’s eaten ten dollars in a row and is now falling on him after he made the mistake of shaking it

declan regretted saying anything. [immediately says the worst thing possible]

write your routine, ronan. now. now. write it. write it down. (because i’m worried you’re going to kill yourself but have no idea how to say that so i have to focus on concrete action.)

every time he’s tried to say “i’m worried about you” and instead gone “why are you inconveniencing me this way.” king

having no sense of how to communicate feelings or solve emotional conflicts through talking despite attempting to do these things frequently, AFTER STUDYING OUT OF BOOKS, to his detriment

preferring to take care of people silently and subtly through protecting them and making things easier for them, extremely similarly to how ronan does

irritability

constantly in a low level fugue state of annoyance

runs on caffeine and fumes

very thin patience for anyone else’s inability to stick to plans, manage time, regulate emotion, do their jobs, follow through on commitments, etc

the unceasing “i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy. i’m not unhappy” while at work screams of “i am in sensory/emotional hell all the time and checking slightly out of this plane to deal”

loses control all at once, when he does lose control

drains energy like a broken cellphone battery from the effort of combating misery, anxiety, mental overload, boredom, masking all thoughts and feelings

bonus content: parents

the actual in-universe reasons for these things aren’t related to neurodivergence as far as we know, but

growing up as the unfavored child whose interests are constantly ignored or shut down

seeing your siblings get preferential treatment for no reason

being silenced or punished every time you express dissatisfaction or unhappiness or anger

being considered disposable

internalizing the idea that you’re a burden unless you’re worth something to others

that’s a real common lived realty for autistic ppl

bonus content: brothers

i read all three lynch brothers as being on the spectrum and all having different experiences with it

i read matthew as having had the inverse experience of declan, in which he flaps and stims and chews loudly and talks a mile a minute and expresses himself with excitement and passion and bouncing

& he has Not been punished for it or made to feel like it should be hidden

declan’s ferocious protectiveness of matthew is in many ways bc he wants to keep matthew from suffering the same way he has

differing autism spectrum experiences fit neatly into that

ronan and declan’s experiences are in some ways wildly different

in other ways, though

going zero to one hundred on the emotional spectrum, defaulting to anger to avoid fully feeling internal chaos, being unable to understand the other’s feelings or thought processes / making wildly incorrect conclusions about them, preferring to show feelings through action rather than words, struggling to translate genuine emotion into expression without coming across as a dick

they are Very Similar

declan and ronan do a lot of “dog growls at its own reflection” about this because neither of them is more furious than when they see their own perceived shortcomings in the other

i’m positive i’ve forgotten some things and also positive i have not communicated all of these thoughts as effectively as i would like but i have been typing this post for a thousand years. here you go

#trc #cdth #declan lynch #i love my idiot son #suicide m #ableism -#Anonymous

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kittensjonsa · 4 years

Text

Otherwise, Engaged

The Proposal AU.

Summary: Flashbacks. A discussion on consent, freedom and independence. Jon finds his heart again - and the burden of feelings that comes with it.

Note: Some angst and a backstory.. before the hot smut can begin, of course! Hence, the length of this one. Sorry not sorry. Rated M.

Chapters 1 - 6

Chapter 7

THREE YEARS EARLIER

“Sansa!”

Sansa wanted to run. Run away from it all. From everyone and especially her mother.

“Honey, please.. just let her be,” Sansa heard her father’s calm voice behind her as she stomped past the hallway and out the door.

Yes, just let me be. Be my own person and away from anything Winterfell or anyone named Stark.

It wasn't so much of the place or the people, it was just the fact of the importance of being a Stark she has had to deal with all her life. Grow up, live and breathe Winterfell. True that she was indeed very much a Northern girl and every bit a Stark but she still had her own character and personality, her own person - didn't that count for anything?

“So, here's our new guy, Jon Snow. Someone you all are familiar with I am sure,” Jeor gave Jon's shoulder a firm squeeze as the introductions made their rounds at the table. Jon smiled and nodded at the elderly gentlemen and a lady seated with them. Jon spoke very little and merely listened throughout the dinner. Jon realised very quickly that it was all business and had little to do with him, managing polite yes-es and a laugh at every dull joke every once in a while. Besides, he was far more concerned about getting his affairs in order and with so many accounts under his name, Jon feared he desperately needed an assistant. My brain can only handle so much, great as it is.

It had only been two weeks since the move into the swanky corner office of Mormont & Sons Publishing and it had been dinner every night as Jeor insisted on making sure Jon and his talent was right smack in the faces of the right people. Small price to pay for being the new hot shot editor in town.

“Hey Ryan, if you have a minute, send me some resumes my way would you? You know, for the opening for the exec assistant? Haven't heard anything from HR.”

Jon was ignored as Ryan, the HR head only continued his conversation on his phone. A token nod greeted Jon as Ryan finally waved a hello to him, patting down a pile of papers in a corner of his desk, his ear still glued to the phone. Jon wasn't sure what that meant but perhaps he was pointing out to the resumes the department had received along with the personal assistant posting. It was obvious Ryan did not really care if he existed or not.

Jon Snow was just another name on the payroll, amongst hundreds of others. Ryan had his work cut out for him indefinitely, though Jon couldn't care less, as long as he got the right person he wanted for the job. Another name on the payroll. Sorry, Ryan. Jon decided to help himself to the pile seeing how busy Ryan was, the active lines on his phone on hold blinking impatiently.

“Oh right, yeah. So, there are already some here you might want to look at. Sandra already found hers and these were the shortlisted ones. They seem promising.”

Sighing, Jon took the messy folder off the desk.

“Right. Of course. I'll look through them then. Thanks.”

No thanks.

Jon was about to say something about scheduling appointments when he saw Ryan going back to ignoring him as soon he got on the phone again.

Looks like I'm on my own. Story of my life, ain't it.

Jon stared tiredly at the piece of paper before him. This was the last resume from the pile of rejects Sandra had left him. The only piece of resume was from, quite possibly the only candidate left worthy of any attention. Jon was exhausted, realising this was tedious work - from the mingling dinners every night to reading manuscripts one after another - he was quite content with an extra pair of hands really. He hardly looked after himself recently. And if he had to eat from another take out box and sleep on the office couch again, he'd quit. So done. There was no way he could do everything himself. Especially the phone calls. Waking up in bed with his phone on his face was something he'd like to avoid as much as possible.

“Sansa Stark, let's see if you're the one,” Jon skimmed through the cover letter.

University of Westeros. Okay good enough.

“Please, please say you can start immediately.”

Jon rubbed his tired eyes as he clicked 'send' and decided he was done for the day. His head was pounding away, drained from all the reading he had done and all he wanted was his bed. He'd check for any emails from a Sansa Stark first thing in the morning. Right now, he needed to sleep and at home, not another night on the couch in his office.

Sansa Stark. God, I need you. Save me.

The blaring alarm had Jon spring out of bed and while he was normally up quite early for his workouts, he was not feeling quite up to it that morning.

Stumbling about, Jon grabbed the first shirt he found his hands on in the closet. It looked decent enough with yesterday's suit jacket over it.

Right, twenty-four hour dry cleaners. That's going on the list.

Twenty four hours never seemed enough ever since he started his new job with the Mormonts. Exhausted was an understatement. Although, now he was a little relieved, looking forward to the next few days when he could sleep a little easier thanks to Sansa Stark. Well, hopefully.

“Mr Snow, your 8.30 is here.” A bored tone greeted him the moment he stepped out into the lobby.

It was too early to choke on his triple shot espresso. "My what?"

“Mr Snow? Hi, I got your email yesterday and I replied, though I wasn't sure if you got it. So... hi, I'm Sansa Stark.”

Oh.

“For the executive assistant post? I figured the HR department knew about our appointment but looks like… nobody's quite in yet.”

A tall, leggy redhead with blazing blue eyes and a smile that lit up the sky.

Ahh...right.. Sansa Stark.

---

Her sultry drawl that lingered on a breathy rasp was his reckoning. Say my name. Again and again. Jon gently brushed away the soft copper locks from the creamy skin of her neck and kissed it. He inhaled deeply, as deep as he could drink her in, hungrily desperate, because this might the first and only time he'd have with her.

Her scent was unmistakable. A heady mix reminiscent of lavender and rose, Jon recalled how it greeted him every morning, almost every day the past three years. He had grown fond of it, comforted by it, knowing that she was a constant at his side. How he looked forward to seeing her leap into his office and greet him with a smile and his favourite coffee. How he noticed the way her lips pursed, poring over pages of manuscripts whilst sat next to him with her long slender legs crossed ever so daintily. Little bits and pieces of her, that if only she knew he'd taken a liking to- Sansa probably wouldn't have despised him so much.

He had chosen this life. He was good at it. There was no compromise on his career because it was the only thing he ever had that was his and his alone. Jon refused for it to be taken away for the sake of a mere whim or an itch to scratch. Years and years of hard work had him where he was right now, and it would have all gone to dust, if he were to ruin everything for the sake of feelings. Feelings he had buried so deep within that are now on the verge of imploding, teetering on losing the one thing he yearned for all his life. Acceptance. And if fate wasn't cheeky enough, it was all Sansa gave him and it was exactly what he needed.

It was fortune that smiled on him, chancing upon a resume his former editors had passed on due to her clear lack of experience. It was his first week at Mormont & Sons and it was clear, with all the new accounts thrown at him, the golden boy of print and press, that he was in dire need of an assistant. As long as they were willing to put in the time and work, Jon wouldn't be picky. Even a naive, inexperienced fresh graduate would do, he told himself that. It was just assistance he needed, nothing more.

Only thing was, he didn't expect a tall beautiful redhead named Sansa Stark to step into his office, all eager and enthusiastic and willing to do whatever it took to be an author of her own right one day. The day Jon couldn't possibly forget. And now, the one person Jon could not lose.

“Sansa…” Jon nibbled at her ears as his hands roamed to parts of her he once longed to touch while his lips quickly found their way lower to her bosom.

Sansa seized a fistful of his curls as his mouth hovered closer to her teats, soft yet hard from arousal. Heaving full mounds of soft flesh so scintillating Jon couldn't help but open his mouth wide and devour them still clothed. She was perfect in every way, just like he had pictured in his mind.

“Oh god… Jon..”

The kiss had gone further than they imagined as Jon and Sansa laid on her bed, a tangled mess of legs and arms caressing every inch of the other. Sansa writhed at every contact his lips made with her skin, with the hem of her dress shifting higher and dangerously above her hips, where his hands and mouth were only a breath away from a place no man had been before.

Sansa groaned at the clothed yet growing hardness stroking against the sides of her thighs as Jon's body moved along with his lips pecking lower and lower below her stomach. Jon had to pause, because if he went on, there would absolutely be no stopping him. He needed to be sure. He needed her to be sure. It was happening indeed, despite his best efforts to control himself.

“Sansa… please.. for the love of God... tell me to stop.. right now.. if you want me to… because I... cannot,” Jon muttered at the end of every kiss as he made his way up to kiss her lips again. Sansa groaned at his touch and responded with a deep kiss, like the one he gave her moments ago. Sansa hissed as Jon's mouth left hers and back to her lower body.

“Jon… don't.. stop.. but.. I have to tell you something,” Sansa answered in between gasps and hisses, her skin burning hot at every lick of Jon's tongue on her belly.

“Tell me… what?” Jon continued in bliss as his mouth found hers again, this time his eyes gazing deeply into hers.

“I…. haven't... done this.. so.. be gentle?” Sansa confessed, blushing as she cupped and kissed his face.

Jon could hear the sound of tyres screeching in brakes in his head. “W-wait… what?”

No... Hold on. Wait.

Jon sat up immediately the moment the reality hit him. He refused to face up to it but he now he had to. It took a moment before Sansa opened her eyes and found Jon sitting at the end of her bed watching her with a frown.

Oh God, what now?

“Jon? What.. why.. what's wrong?”

Jon bit down his lip. Should he ask? Should he say it? Perhaps not. It was an amazing moment they both shared and she gave her consent. True, that was enough, but why did it feel so awfully wrong? Sansa waited but grew impatient. It was a look she had never been acquainted with before and it worried her.

“You mean to tell me.. you haven't done it yet? Shit.. this is not happening.”

What?

Sansa felt the usual annoyance rising in her again and this time it was seething. Suddenly she felt naked and stupid. From a high she didn't want to come down from, it only took minutes to feel like she had been spat out onto the ground.

“What.. why are you being like this, Jon? Why.. why does that matter? I said yes didn't I?” Sansa dared to ask, her eyes filling with tears she didn't expect. Jon only sighed and looked away. Shame. She knew that look well enough.

“Why.. am I not good enough now?”

Jon panicked and hastened to cool the growing tension. “No, that's not what I meant, Sansa. It's just-”

“Just what? How ridiculous it is that I'm here almost topless and you giving me a hickey seconds ago and then.. for posterity's sake, I say I'm a virgin, because you know, I just wanted to let you know since I've never done this before, ever.. and then all of a sudden, you stop and GROW A CONSCIENCE?!”

“No, Sansa that's not what-”

“Then, what the hell do you mean? Because it was was as clear as day when you had your tongue down my throat seconds ago!”

Jon gulped, his eyes slowly meeting hers. “I just.. didn't expect us to-”

“To what? Have sex?” Sansa asked, her voice wavering.

“Sansa, look.. let me just explain, please?” Jon pleaded, lowering his tone and voice, hoping Sansa would do the same. The last thing he wanted was an argument about sex with Sansa under Ned Stark's roof and everyone else hearing them.

“Just say it... I'm not good enough am I? Well, screw you, Jon Snow, you're on your fucking own.”

Sansa wiped away her tears as she hastily put her dress back in order and stood up, wanting to leave. Sansa flinched and almost elbowed him as Jon reached out to console her. He didn't know what to do or say exactly and he did not want to leave nor did he know how. They had come this far and certainly this can't be it. This has gone way, way off course.

“Sansa, please.. listen to me. I.. I don't want to impose anymore than I already have Sansa. Please try to understand that. I can't… lie to your family and then.. take you.. like that... Under these circumstances. This.. just doesn't feel right.. I can't do that to you.”

Sansa blinked as she tried to comprehend what Jon was trying to say.

“Take me? What the hell am I to you? Cattle? So, you're saying if I wasn't untouched and pure like you said, you'd do it? And all of the above?!”

This wasn't going well at all.

“No." Jon paused.

"You're on thin fucking ice, Jon. After all I've done for you.”

Sansa knew the right words to hit right back. Ouch.

“Yes and you deserve better than this! Than all of this right now! You've been.. everything to me since we met. I don't want to ruin this just because I needed dick relief!”

Dick relief. Some editor you are. Jon groaned, exasperated. He was losing, fast.

“How would you know what I want or deserve? Don't I get a say in this? I chose it, yes. I played along with this, yes. Did I want to be intimate with you? Yes! What part of me telling you not to stop meant anything but?��

Sansa sighed and watched the trees sway in the chilly breeze from the balcony. She couldn't face him now. She had become just another conversation, an afterthought.

“It's 2019, you know. My body is mine to give, Jon. It's not for anyone to take. And I wanted to give it to you. It was my choice.”

Ah, fuck. Touché. And I wanted it.

Sansa could hardly believe what was happening. From pure passion one moment, to wiping away tears the next. Of course, it had to be Jon. Sansa had cried tears over the tyranny of the workload he dumped on her, but this.. this was something else.

Sansa turned and sat back down on the bed, seeing Jon seated at the bench, his face in his hands.

“Let me tell you something, mister. Do you know how hard I've worked to find my own two feet? Moving to the city and be a writer some day? All this, without relying on my parents, while being a Stark? Do you know how much I had to give up to get here? I did that on my own, because I chose to. Without any help from my family, knowing how much it hurt them. All my life, I've been told what to do, what to be and how to do it and for the most part, I played along and obliged. But one day I decided, no. I'm going to do my own thing. Myself. And from then on, I decided whatever I choose to do, it would be me who says so."

Sansa sighed, recounting the numerous arguments she had with her mother and the times she's had to skip Skyping her brothers just to prove her point on how well and busy she was doing on her own.

Jon had no idea how it had been for her but he understood what she meant. Sacrifices.

He raised his hands in surrender. It was getting far too deep and deviated away too much from what they had in mind - this wasn't how he wanted the weekend to go. They had one plan and no matter what, they both had to stick to it.

Sansa bit down her lip, struggling not to say too much before it was too late. She had said enough to make her point. Enough of everyone telling her how she should live her life. Enough. Besides, there was nothing to be ashamed about it, Jeyne consoled her once. The whispers behind her back, how she was the ice queen of the North, the ways they all stared at her in university the moment she stepped foot there. Sansa Stark, pride and joy of Winterfell - what shame if she was ruined. Sansa couldn't do that to herself and her parents. Being the eldest daughter of the North's power couple was already hard enough. Sansa assured herself constantly, how there was no one remotely interesting enough to spark any interest anyway. Plus, the Stark name was repellent enough. Everyone knew who her parents were, so nobody dared to try.

“So, all this, fake fiance bullshit? Yeah, I chose it. Me, working for you and staying on despite your royal douche-ness, I chose it. Why is that such a strange concept to you.”

Jon wanted to strangle himself if he could. Or kick himself in the balls, as it would be appropriate. Pretending to be fake-engaged with the threat of five years in prison looming over their heads was one thing, if only he could explain how taking Sansa's untouched body was quite another. And to think he was so close to ruining every single area of Sansa's life just moments ago. He couldn't do it to her.

“Sansa… you don't know.. how much I owe you for this. All of this. And.. man.. the things I want to do to you..” Jon scoffed at the irony of it all.

“Well, now you're just saying that,” Sansa huffed indignantly at the revelation.

Jon reached out to grab her hand but Sansa pulled back.

“No, I'm not this time. Listen, let's just-”

A loud knock jolted both of them back to reality. “Sansy? Can Jon come out and fish with us? Can he? Please?”

Ah, shit. The family.

Jon looked to Sansa for an answer. Clearly they both had forgotten about the day's program.

“Uhh.. yeah. We'll be out in a minute.”

Sansa sat on her bed, watching Jon deliberate his next move.

“Well? Don't make my dad and brothers wait,” Sansa prompted.

Fair enough. “Sansa, please.. can we talk when I get back? I promise I have a point to make. I'm just failing badly at making it right now.”

Sansa couldn't listen to anything, not to a single word he'd say, anyway. Time apart would be good. She needed to think, go over what had just transpired and perhaps how to move on from there. Surely she didn't want to lose her job if Jon went to jail, that was a fact whether she liked or not. Crawling back to Winterfell with her tail between her legs, hearing her mother gloat how she had been right all along, was hard to swallow too. Damn decisions. All after that speech about independence, Sansa Stark. Great.

“I'll be in the treehouse. It's behind the shed. Find me there when you're done.”

Jon nodded and grabbed his coat as he headed out.

All Jon wanted to do was tear his hair out. If only she knew how much I want her right here, right now. But the fishing call was a good save, he'd might have said worse things and dug a deeper hole than he was already in. He would think about what to say and how he'd say it. It was clear that this little adventure to meet the family, to convince some immigration officer and avoid going to prison was turning into something else entirely.

It was a nice but cold day out on a rocky boat that Jon mustered enough will to survive. He didn't like the water and certainly not the icy cold one at Winterfell and he longed to see Sansa again, counting down the hours.

He needed to do right by her, at least in keeping the boundaries, though they were already crossed. But that didn't matter as boundaries were boundaries. He had to do something. If he truly was a cad through and through, he'd have her four ways to Sunday, against the wall in her own room, in her parent's house where she grew up, having her scream his name for her mother and all to hear - and then leave and go back to normal once the visa got approved. But we can't go back to how things were, can we? Not after that kiss.

But he wasn't a cad, safe to say and he was proud of it. He actually cared for Sansa. Infuriating, smart-mouth and gorgeous Sansa Stark. He'd end the whole charade right now, if he had to do the right thing. A small part of him feared that it perhaps was already over. Whatever it may be, he'd rather go to prison in Dorne than put Sansa through all of that on top of everything he had dragged her into.

I would. She deserves better than this.

“Well, I guess better luck next time eh?” Jon turned to hear Ned's voice call out to him. He was talking about the day's poor catch but to Jon, it meant something else.

If there's a next time, indeed. So help me, God.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #the proposal au #modern jonsa au #some jonsa angst #it gets hotter i promise

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

Note

you’re the photographer who’s been camped in front of my penthouse apartment for two weeks and i finally got lonely enough to come downstairs and share my leftovers with you” au or the child star one please i am begging you -it’s me rye rye rye your boat

ok im working on the child star thing but its gonna end up being much longer so heres this which honestly also ran away from me let’s see if tumblr will even let it all post it’s almost 2k ENJOY thank u for the prompt ily

The first day, Calum glances out the window and sees a whole host of paps on his front step and thinks, good thing I did the shopping yesterday.

The third day, most of them have gone except a few stragglers. Calum is determined to wait them out.

The sixth day, Calum is starting to run low on milk, and there's only one person left out there. He’s properly set up camp, actually, in a beat-up Volkswagen that makes Calum chuckle, then catch himself for chuckling because this man is for all intents and purposes his mortal enemy. Calum finds it strange that someone with such brightly colored hair and (squinting, he thinks he can make out) tattoos would be a paparazzi. He looks more like a punk groupie than a photographer, but to each their own, Calum supposes. He's tempted to make a break for it, or maybe sneak out in a cap and sunglasses, but leaving the apartment at all will get him photographed, and sue him, he’d like to be left alone. This is, like, the only month he gets to himself before training starts up again. He intends to take full advantage of it. Total invisibility.

Which would be a lot easier if this fucking pap wasn’t dead set on snapping his photo. Calum sees him turn the lens of the camera towards Calum’s front window, and he hastily moves out of sight.

The tenth day, Calum calls Luke.

“What?” Luke asks.

“‘Hey, Cal, nice to hear from you,’” Calum says. “Thanks, Lukey, right back at you.”

“I thought you were doing radio silence for a month,” Luke says. “Like, keeping your head down.”

“I am,” Calum says, exasperated. “There’s just one guy who’s been camped out in front of my building for, like, almost two weeks.”

“So what? Just go past him. He’s just one guy,” Luke says. Calum envies Luke. It must be nice to not care what the press thinks. Not that Calum cares, exactly; he just hates that they’re so insistent on being invasive. Calum’s not supposed to be a public figure, he’s supposed to be a symbol of Aussie pride. He plays soccer, that’s all. Nothing to be excited about.

“No,” Calum says. He’s not sure where this dogged determination is coming from, but he knows he would rather die than acknowledge the paparazzi out in front of his building. He’s got a right to his privacy, damn it. “Look, it’s a whole thing, I don’t want to get into it. But, uh, I’m sort of short on a few groceries. D’you mind…”

Luke heaves an exhausted sigh that Calum recognizes well. He calls it the fucking hell Calum the things I do for you sigh. Sounds similar to the fucking hell Ashton the things I do for you sigh, but less horny.

“Fine,” he says. “Send me a list.”

Luke gets photographed on his way both up and down the building. Calum watches the one stubborn pap take his picture, look at it on the camera screen, and slump over as if thoroughly drained.

Well. That’s his problem.

After two weeks, Calum caves.

He’s been subtly watching the pap out the window, and every day he looks a little worse for wear. Not that Calum can see him very well, but he can tell in the set of his shoulders, the way he leans against the steering wheel of his car or slouches against the driver’s window. Calum hasn’t been consistently staring, but he’s pretty sure this guy hasn’t even left. How is he eating? Is he eating? UberEats, maybe? Calum shudders to imagine living off of delivery Maccas. Here he is, eating home-cooked food, and this poor pap has been sitting out there, probably wishing he could go home and make some pasta.

For the first time in his recorded life, Calum takes pity on the paparazzi.

He cobbles together some leftovers from the past few nights — homemade pizza, a bean dish he’d got off the internet that hadn’t been half bad, and some spaghetti bolognese. He heats it all up and then takes the elevator down to the lobby.

Calum has genuinely not left his apartment in two entire weeks, so the greying evening takes him aback, but not nearly as much as when he makes eye contact with the blue-haired pap and the guy doesn’t instantly take his picture. Also, Calum thinks, despite his best efforts not to acknowledge it, he has to admit this is the most attractive paparazzi he’s ever met, and easily the most laid-back. Is that an eyebrow piercing? Fucking hell.

The pap rolls down his window. “Uh, hi?”

Calum starts to feel a bit silly, but whatever, he’s already here. “Hi,” he says. “Uh, you’ve just — you’ve been camped out here awhile, and I thought…maybe you’d want some real food? Not just, like, UberEats?”

The blue-haired pap looks suspicious. “Is this a bribe?”

“No, I wish,” Calum says, laughing a little. “If anything, this feels like feeding a kitten to encourage it to stay. I’d love for you to leave, but if you’re not going to, the least I can do is make sure you’re eating well.”

“I’ll leave,” the blue-haired guy says, surprising Calum. “I — I’ve wanted to leave since I got here. I’m sorry. You don’t have to feed me —”

“I insist,” Calum says, because he’s already gone through the trouble of heating it up, and he has a fork and everything. God, he’s going to regret this, he thinks, before adding: “Unlock the door? I’ll sit with you.”

The blue-haired guy looks positively dumbstruck. “Um,” he says. “You don’t have to.”

“Believe me, I know,” Calum says. “You just look like you could use the company. And, to be honest, so could I. What’s your name?”

“Michael,” blue-haired guy says, smiling gratefully with just a touch of apprehension. “Alright, if you say so.”

He hits a button, and Calum comes around to the passenger side and climbs into the car. It occurs to him that Michael could easily kidnap him right now. Calum’s entirely defenceless, and has just willingly gotten into a car with him.

(But Michael doesn’t look that strong, and Calum’s an athlete, for god’s sake. He could take him.)

“Here,” Calum says when he’s settled, offering up the food. “It’s all warm and everything.” He hesitates as Michael takes the tupperwares and cracks one open. “You — you said you wanted to leave? Why haven’t you?”

Michael already has a mouthful of spaghetti, so he covers his mouth with his hand and swallows before speaking. Calum tracks the way his Adam's apple moves, then mentally slaps himself for doing that.

“‘S my job,” Michael says. “Not because I like it. It just, it pays well enough, and…it’s not like I have anything better to do with my time. I’m usually not invasive like this, I swear. I try to keep at the back, I just get some blurry photos and people pay me for them, nobody usually cares. But my boss was, like, crazy about this. He kept pushing to get exclusive photos, and then when he heard you had a month off, he told me to stake you out like my life depended on it.” Michael looks incredibly sheepish, hanging his head. “Sorry, mate. I thought I could just get a few pictures on the first day and be done with it, and then when you didn’t come out, I tried to tell my boss you’d holed up. But he wasn’t having it. Told me to stick it out.”

“Christ,” Calum says, aghast. “Your boss sounds like a real dick.”

“He is,” Michael says agreeably. “But, you know. I need the money, so.”

Calum likes how honest Michael is. It’s refreshing. People tend to lie to him a lot, especially in regards to his job, which he’s usually very good at, but gets told he’s good at even when he’s not. Michael’s forthright, though. Calum appreciates it about him.

“Well,” he says obligingly, “take a few photos now and take them back to your boss. Can even say you got an exclusive interview if that wins you any points.”

Michael raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t.”

“Fine,” Calum says. “Ask me a question. Wait.” He pulls his phone out and opens up the voice memo app. Hits record. “Alright, ask me a question.”

Michael looks amused. “Okay, but you’re not going to like this question very much.” Calum gestures for him to go on. “Okay. Um, what exactly are you famous for?”

Calum stares at him and then bursts out laughing.

Once he’s calmed down, he manages, “I never thought I’d say this, but I am absolutely delighted to have met you, Michael. I’m the center forward for Socceroos.”

“Oh,” Michael says, grinning. “Explains why I don’t know you, then. I’m not really a sports guy.”

“Yeah? What kind of guy are you?”

Michael shrugs. “Music, really. Part of why I ended up in this line of work.”

So Calum’s initial instinct had been correct. He’s weirdly proud to know that.

“Well, Calum Hood,” Michael says, and Calum likes how his name sounds in an unfamiliar voice, saying it because it’s what he’s called, not because it’s some big name to throw around, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” Calum says.

“How many years have you played soccer?”

“Most of them. Boring question, been asked that a million times,” Calum answers. “Come on, be creative.”

Michael arches his eyebrow, like he’s ready for the challenge. “Alright then. Worst drink you ever had?”

“Any time I have to drink beer in America, it’s a dark day,” Calum says. American beer is awful, and he will die on that hill.

“Favorite song at the moment?”

“‘Monsters’ by All Time Low.” Michael hums appreciatively.

“Good taste. Favorite article of clothing you own?”

Calum glances down at himself. “Probably this sweatshirt,” he admits, because he’s pretty sure at this point the sweatshirt is legally part of his body. Has he even taken it off in two weeks? Hard to say.

“Uh, worst way you’ve ever tried to pick someone up?”

Calum really only thinks for a moment before diving headfirst. “Well, once there was this pap who sat outside my building for two weeks, so I brought him my leftovers because I felt badly, but then he turned out to be fairly interesting and very attractive, so.”

Michael turns pink. He grabs Calum’s phone and turns off the recording.

“You’re not picking me up,” Michael says. “You can’t. This is my car.”

Calum laughs. He likes Michael. “Humor me,” he says. “You can say no. I’ll still let you have the pictures and everything, I’m not a total dickhead.”

“I didn’t say no,” Michael says. He lifts up his camera. “Smile.”

Calum makes his most serious face at the camera and listens for the click. He makes another face, and the camera clicks again. Then again, and once more.

“Alright,” Michael says. “That’s my job done. I’m officially off the clock. You were asking me something, I think?”

“You’re a shit,” Calum says. “I might take it back.”

Michael grins. “You will not.”

No, he won’t. “Fine,” he says. “Dinner? Or, uh, ice cream? You’ve sort of just eaten.”

“Won’t say no to ice cream,” Michael says. He looks over at Calum and smirks. “Imagine if this is the ‘how I met your father’ story.”

It’s an extremely forward thing to say, Calum’s too busy laughing to call him out on it.

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citruscisco2 · 5 years

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Crush Imagine: Lazy, Rainy Saturdays

QUICK NOTE: This is written mostly for a female reader who has a crush who is male. I've also tried my best to write this to where the reader has no specific body type - the same goes for the reader's crush.

Key:

- (H/C) is hair color

-(S/T) is skin tone

-(C/N) is crush's name (I mean I guess in this he's your boyfriend)

-(E/C) is eye color

It was a Saturday afternoon, a rainy one to be specific. Thunder rumbled through the air while lightening flickered throughout the grey sky above. The rain pitter-pattered against the rooftop, creating a sense of contentment between me and my lover. The rain always found a way to make me tired. I cherish those days where there was nothing to do but nap and listen to the rainfall, coming in waves of soft to aggressive downpour. Though, too many rainy days just seemed to drain me. I was always tired and gradually grew upset for no reason at all. Maybe it was the lack of energy, the lack of completing tasks around the house, the lack of any sense of achievement.

It was rare nowadays to have a Saturday off ever since (C/N) and I had to start picking up side jobs in order to pay rent as well as bills, not to mention food for the both of us to last more than a day. Might as well take advantage of those days off while you have them. Being a student while trying to work, study, maintain relationships - not just romantic, it takes a toll on you. Sometimes you just need to take a chill-pill, lay down for a while and binge-watch your favorite shows or movies while stuffing your face with comfort food. The two of us laid on the old, semi-comfortable couch that sat in the middle of our conjoined dining and living room with our heads turned to the television watching a purposely comedy titled 'Joe Dirt.' At first, I assumed it was another poorly put together movie that was on a low budget too, though it's clear that it was supposed to be a cheesy, feel-good ending movie. It brought out a few soft chuckles from us, as well as roaring laughter followed by a few tears pricking our eyes while we clutched our aching stomachs. It was coming towards the end of the movie and both of our eyes were occasionally drooping with drowsiness. (C/N) laid on his back while wearing his neon orange hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that I had bought him. His soft, (H/C) brushed against the (S/T) of his forehead while his (E/C) eyes were rested upon the screen of the TV. He didn't bother to move the strands of hair that tickled the skin of his face, for his arms were busy with holding me close to him. I was laying on top of him with the side of my head gently resting against his chest. Normally, I wouldn't be as comfortable with this position as I am currently. I would have felt as if I was crushing him. A couple of months into our relationship, I opened up and expressed these concerns to him when the insecurities of my weight were stronger than currently. Those dreadful thoughts were quickly put to rest as his two (muscular; lanky; etc.) arms wrapped around my body, pulling me close with one of his hands resting on the back of my neck gently while the other remained wrapped around my waist. He pressed the side of my head against his chest (or into the crook of his neck if you're his height or taller than him) as his thumb gently caressed the back of my head comfortingly. I felt his soft lips kiss the top of my head gently as I heard him speak. I'll never forget what he said to me that evening. "Do you hear that?" he whispered, gently squeezing me tighter while running the hand that rested on my waist up and down my sides, from my hips to under where my arm is. My own arms had wrapped around his body, and I grabbed small fistfuls of his shirt as I tried to quiet my loud sniffles. What did I hear? (C/N) stayed quiet to see if I had an answer, or if I would even answer at all. I tried to listen closely to my surroundings, trying to find the source of the noise he was referring to. The only thing I could hear though was the sound of my sniffling and the comforting pounding of his heart. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat always put me at ease. Not having a definite answer, I shrugged silently in return. He sighed and pulled my head away from his chest, tilting my head to where my eyes gazed upon his handsome face. (C/N)'s eyes gazed into my pink and puffy (E/C) ones, giving me a soft and reassuring smile as he moved his hands to cup my face, gently wiping away any salty tears that streamed down my face. "It's my heart beating at a fucking million miles an hour for you." I let out a small laugh as my heart filled with warmth, but my head was still frostbitten from the cold doubts and self-deprecating thoughts. (C/N) shook his head while sighing in disbelief. "I still can't understand why - how you still can't see how beautiful you are, how enchanting you are on the inside, and how stunning you are on the outside. Maybe I never will. I do know, though, how you're feeling, maybe not exactly, but I can relate." I stayed silent as he continued on while silently thanking him for taking the time to really sit down - metaphorically speaking - and having this talk with me. It's not every day someone takes your worries seriously, and it's not every day you find someone who doesn't make a humongous deal over them to the point they end up crossing a line and you no longer have any sort of privacy. It's nice to have it somewhere in the middle. You need to address these thoughts seriously and see how they're affecting that person. Due to these thoughts, is the person trying to find a solution in a dangerous or unhealthy way? Either way, they should still be taken seriously and a healthy solution benefits all parties. Let's not make this seem like an essay for school. I've written enough of those last year. "I, myself, wonder if I'm good enough for you, if I'm strong enough for you, if I deserve you, and the list goes on and on! There will be times where I continuously beat myself up over small things. That bad grade I got on that exam? Wow, I'm an absolute failure. My hair just isn't agreeing with me today? Gotta shave it off." "(C/N) what are yo-" He cut me off before I could finish. He had raised his hand, pointer finger up to signal me that he was in no way finished speaking. Hearing (C/N) speak made me calmer by the second. His soothing voice floated into my hears and made my heart skip a beat. Hearing about his own insecurities cracked my heart bit by bit with every word. How could such an amazing person feel this way? Why couldn't he see that I find him to be the most perfect man that I've laid my eyes upon? It dawned upon me that I was feeling the exact way he was feeling. We both couldn't understand why we couldn't love ourselves for the way we are. To be frank, we know that no one is perfect, but we want to be the best person for the ones we love. "I want you yo know that I love you more than you could ever comprehend. I love your hair, your smile, your kindness, your intelligence, and your body. You absolutely drive me wild with a simple smile baby. I'll try to keep this as PG and as sweet as possible," we both let out a small laugh at his comment. Even when he's trying to be serious, he always finds a way to make me laugh. God, I love that dork. "Now, I may be just a simple guy who's just trying to make it in life, but I can promise you that I'm going to try my damn hardest to make you feel as if you're the queen of the world." I playfully scrunched up my nose. "Ew, no, that's too much fucking responsibility." He let out a loud, roaring laugh, tossing his head back as his eyes fluttered shut. He sighed and flashed be a heart-throbbing smile as he looked down at me with love completely filling his eyes. "There's my girl. My beautiful, lovely girl," (C/N) mutters softly, leaning down and gently kissed my forehead. I blush at his words and playfully hit his chest. "Oh shut up, you dork!" I let out a loud squeal as his fingers dug into my sides, tickling me. "You better take that back, you brat!" He exclaimed while laughing. My knees buckled and my legs collapsed out from underneath me as his hands traveled from my sides to my stomach. This would be the start of the many discussion we would have about my insecurities, but he assured me that he didn't mind reminding me of how beautiful he thinks I am. Here we are now, cuddled up on a ratty brown couch, yet we're happy nonetheless. As I laid on top of him, his one hand was gently placed on my upper back, while the other was wrapped tightly around my waist. His hand was clenched into a fist as he had a grip on the hoodie I was wearing, which was also his. Both of my arms were curled tightly against my chest, sandwiching them between us. It most definitely wasn't the most comfortable position, but I didn't care and I didn't dare move. I let out a soft whimper after releasing a big yawn, grabbing (C/N)'s attention at the slight movement. He looked down at my tired forms with his own sleep-deprived eyes and chuckled softly. His grip tightened around me as I felt his soft lips kiss the top of my head. "I think it's about time we both head to bed," he mumbled. His words were slurred and his eyes drooped as he spoke due to exhaustion. (C/N) reached for the TV remote, his hand missing it the first time before he turned the TV off. As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, my head was gently pushed from his chest to his lap. He laughed as I continued to lay there and refuse to move. "Come on sleepyhead," he joked while ruffling my hair. My nose scrunched up and I let out a whine, both from him screwing up my already tangled hair and the thought of moving from my comfortable position - now that my arms weren't crushed between the two of us. I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. "But I don't wanna move!" I complained while pouting childishly. The sound of him talking could put me to sleep, which means I'd end up falling asleep on the uncomfortable ass couch and hate myself in the morning. (C/N) laughed at my misery and carefully slid my head off of his lap and onto the couch before standing up and stretching, groaning as he popped a few joints and cracked his back while doing so. "In that case, don't you worry your pretty little head," he reassured before surprising me by sliding his arms under the middle of my back and behind my knees before scooping me into a bridal style position. This has got to be a dream. My eyes widened in shock and let out a loud yelp. My legs flailed slightly while my arms automatically seemed to find their way wrapped around (C/N)'s neck, causing him to let out an amused laugh. After readjusting his grip, he carefully makes his way over to our shared bedroom. I felt safe in his hold. As he walked, the side of my head fell against his while my eyes would slowly droop shut only to shoot open. As much as I'd love to fall asleep in (C/N)'s arms, I'd much rather sleep in a bed for once. He seemed to notice my attempts at keeping myself awake and let out an amused huff of air. He laid me down on the bed and softly pecked my forehead. "Get some sleep, we both need it." I let out a small yawn and nodded, stripping off my sweatpants and hoodie before slipping on one of (C/N)'s shirts - which he had handed to me. He stripped off his own hoodie as well. We didn't have the best working AC in the bedroom and we don't wanna end up sweating a shit ton in the night, so we opted to sleep with light, loose clothing or none at all. "I know, I know. I just wanna fall asleep in be for once instead of that damn couch," I replied while laying down after crawling under the sheets. He too crawls under the sheets after me while laughing, laying down on his side while I lay on my stomach. We face each other. (C/N) lays one arm across my lower back and his hand gently grips my waist, pulling me close against him. "Maybe that's because you study there the majority of the time and end up falling asleep while reading, working, or binge-watching The Office for the millionth time." I roll my eyes at his words. "For the record, it's a great show, and it's not my fault that Jim Halpert is one of the sexiest men alive." "You mean John Krasinski?" "No, Jim Halpert. Ya' know, any time I see John Krasinski in any other movie, I'm always thinking, yep, that's Jim Halpert. Fun fact, I used to think his last name was Krisanski, like spelled with an 'I' instead of an 'A' at the beginning of it and flip-flopped in the middle of it. I guess I just never really took a good look at the spelling. Makes sense cause I never fucking made it to the Spelling Bee. Then again, that's probably because I didn't wanna be in it. Too much fucking anxiety and pressure." I ramble on while laughing a bit at my own words. (C/N) laughs as well at my rambling and presses his soft lips against the skin of my forehead while grinning, sighing softly after. "See, this is why I fucking love you," he mumbles raspily, his voice sounding lethargic, yet I'm still able to pick up how affectionately he speaks to me. I raised an eyebrow. "You love my obsession with Jim Halpert?" "No, dummy," he laughs while playfully flicking my forehead, causing me to wince at the tiny amount of pain and pout. "I love it when you ramble on about things you like and you're overall passionate about. Maybe it's because I just like hearing your voice - no, that's definitely it." I feel butterflies flutter around in my stomach as his sweet words and couldn't help but smile softly up at him. I shifted myself to where I'm resting on my side and reached up to cup his cheek. We're silent for a while, just admiring one another. Inside, I wanna crawl away from his intense gaze as insecurities rise, but I'm sure (C/N)'s feeling the same way. "Ya' know, that's one of the things I love most about you. You actually take the time to listen to all of the weird shit I have to say, even when it doesn't make any sense. You remember all of my likes and dislikes - mostly because I talk about them over and over. You also take better care of me than I can care for myself." At the end of my rambling, (C/N)'s (S/T) cheeks were dusted pink and a grin as stretched across his face. Our eyes fluttered shut as he leans forward and kisses me softly. It feels as if I'm on cloud nine as our lips intertwine together. It's slow, loving, and beautiful. As the kiss speeds and heats up, he pulls me on top of him while he lays on his back. My hands rest on his chest while his own move towards my hips, gripping the soft flesh with his large, strong hands. I straddle his waist and let out a soft moan as his kisses decrescendo into soft pecks, traveling their way down my jaw to the sensitive skin of my neck. (C/N) lets out a small chuckle at the sound and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling away to look up at me with tired, love-struck eyes. "As much as I'd love to continue this, I know you're tired as hell, and so am I." I let out a soft laugh and nodded in agreement, laying down on top of him with my head resting on his chest. "I feel ya' on that level," I muttered sleepily. (C/N) gently kisses the top o my head and pulls the blankets over us, making sure it's nice and snug around us. "I love you," I mumbled quietly ad my eyes droop shut. "I love you too, darling," he mutters back, equally tired. Our breathing slows down as we both drift into a slumber, dreaming about one another.

#crush #boyfriend #original #crush imagines #boyfriend imagines #crush one shots #boyfriend one shots #crush x reader #boyfriend x reader #love #romance #male crush #male boyfriend #female reader

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big-idiot-wolf-boys · 4 years

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— ⊹ CULLEN COVEN THEMED TAG GAME ⊹ —

by jasperwhitcock

tagged by: @aliceseesyou thanks for tagging me, I love how much out of fandom interaction ive been seeing!

Edward — how well do you read other people?

I think I read people pretty well. I manage to pick up motivations and emotions from people even when they’re not outright said, and it’s actually saved me from trouble a couple of times in life.

Bella — do you often find yourself underestimated?

Actually, people overestimate me all the fkn time and it’s incredibly frustrating. My extended family has this crappy habit of treating me like an employee and not a human being family and they all overwhelm me with favors and jobs and then get frustrated when I;m too burnt out to do something for them. :/ On the other hand, I tend to underestimate myself pretty often, so maybe we all need to find some kind of middle ground here.

Alice — what is your relationship to your past?

I hate the ‘it made me who I am sentiment’ sure, it might be true, but why should i have to be someone who’s gone through a lot of bad things? My past is something I grapple with a lot and my coping mechanism is to just not think about them so that’s not great. But that’s not to say there weren’t a lot of good things and fond memories that I have!

Jasper — how perceptive are you of other people’s feelings?

Oh my god, so perceptive it’s annoying. I’m very empathetic and it’s honestly exhausting. I used to come home from work completely emotionally drained because people seemed to know how perceptive I was. They would just drop all their troubles on me and then walk away feeling better, meanwhile I felt like crap! Energy vampires, ISTG

Rosalie — are you more tenacious or easygoing?

Somewhere in the middle? I try to be easy going most of the time, but when I get my mind set on something, I am going to get it done.

Emmett — what are your strengths?

These are really hard questions, haha! I guess... I’m great at detailing a car! I’m reliable, and loyal. You could not speak to me for three years, but I’d still help with almost anything at the drop of a hat.

Carlisle — what role does compassion play in how you view the world?

I honestly think compassion is one of the most important things in the world. And sometimes it feels like there’s not enough compassionate people in places where there should be. Positions of power both large and small, from political offices, to nursing jobs.

Esme — how quickly do you develop feelings of love & care for someone in your life?

I love so easily. I was in love with my boyfriend before we even officially got together lmao. To be fair, I’ve known him most of my life. I don’t very often let people into my life so the most recent example would be about a year ago when I sometimes started babysitting for a family friend. It took maybe three 8 hour babysitting sessions for me to absolutely adore that kid and I would protect her with my life.

Renesmee — if your parents had other options for your name, are they worse or better than the name you were given? or do you communicate your thoughts & emotions well to others?

I’m so ridiculously bad at making my emotions known. It’s lead to so many miscommunications, instances of me being taken advantage of or manipulated, and it’s the reason it took six months for me to ask my bf if we were dating or if we just hung out outside our friend group a lot. I’m literally too nice to say no to someone if they’re asking for something reasonable. But also I’m a huge loudmouth who never stops making their opinions known, so it’s an interesting oxymoron in my personality.

I’m tagging oof, I’m not sure who hasn’t done it already @rosaalee @howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen and @empathetic-cowboy maybe?

#oof this was way longer than i intended #i had a lot of thoughts #long post #tag game #jay talks

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comphersjost · 5 years

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sugar daddy ➸ morgan rielly hcs!

listen this is all i’ve been thinking about all day okay i need this in my life i just want a sugar daddy mo in my life please

find my masterlist here

okay so listen

you’re probably like a photographer or something in media for the leafs

running around making sure the boys get places on time

interviews, shoots, the fucking plane, everything

and you’re really young, yk, you’re maybe 20 or so

and accelerating your education seemed like a good idea

but now you’ve got a ton of debt

so you get a job at the starbucks near your shitty apartment

you have to make ends meet right?

and its so exhausting, running around and often working 8 or more hours at each job

but you have to put on a smile for the boys and for the customers and for your bosses at both jobs

but it’s definitely taking its toll because you’re just so tired all the time

but it’s a good thing you work at a coffee shop isnt it?

morgan likes to walk around random parts of the city when he’s stressed

and hes totally been trying to work up the courage for a while to just talk to you and to get to know you fr

he’s just so fucking attracted to this young, smart, funny, and kind photographer that’s somehow responsible for team of actual children

it’s after a game and a tough loss that he comes in

it’s like 1:53 am when he walks into this starbucks on the opposite side of toronto from where his giant ass condo is

and he sees you

no, not like, oh hey you happen to be here at the same time as me,

but he sees you as in you’re coming from the back room, re-tying your apron behind you

and just like that you’re back to running around and doing too many things at once, just like how you are at the arena

somehow even at almost 2 am, your store is pretty busy

so when the next person in line steps up and you make eye contact with him you almost choke

and mo’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth a few times

“hi what can i get you?” you squeak before he can say anything stupid

he def is hesitant giving you his order but does it anyways and is kind of shocked when you ask for his name for the order

you dont make eye contact while you make the drink, making sure to just call out his name when it’s ready and go back to running around

and he’s about to ask to talk to you when you suddenly straighten up and tell your shift “i’m gonna go restock the back” and you’re gone again

you probably avoid morgan for a few days, maybe a couple weeks even, after that

he ends up cornering you in your office when you’re editing pictures or something after practice

“why? why didn’t you tell me?”

you sigh, having expected this conversation since you saw him

“because it’s not relevant to any conversation we’ve had.”

“relevant? of course it’s relevant!” he throws his hands up, “we’re a team, a family, and you shouldn’t have to work 2 jobs!”

“well some of us don’t make millions of dollars a year morgan!” you finally snap at him “some of us have to work 16 hours a day to make ends meet! and even then we’re still barely living paycheck to paycheck!”

he recoils at your words, because he never though about the fact that the leafs organization might not be paying you enough to get you through your debts and bills

“let me help”

you almost choke when he says that

“no. absolutely not. i’m not a child nor am i a charity case okay? i’ve been on my own for a long time.”

he doesnt give up, and continues to press you until you kick him out of your office

after that things with morgan get a little...flirtier you could say

his touch is lingering

he’s making eye contact with you across the room and not looking away

but he’s also very publicly inviting you out with the team, watching your squirm while you have to come up with a lie every time as to why you couldn’t

and not to mention game days

holy shit he comes in wearing his game day suit and maintains eye contact with you the whole time

walk walk fashion baby

it’s only a matter of time before you cave, he thinks

and he’s right

it’s about a month later that you’re at some gala for the team

and thank god the leafs organization payed for your shit because this dress and these heels would’ve used up two entire paychecks

and morgan’s shamelessly flirting with you that night, touching you along your back and your arms and letting his hand rest on your thigh when you’re seated

it isn’t long before he has you bent over the hood of his expensive ass sports car

and for a second you’re worried because holy shit this car is worth more than your fucking life

the thought flies out the window though pretty soon

cause mo is pounding into you from behind yk, pressing you against the cool metal of the sleek black sports car

you’re choking out moans and squeals of his name and when he wraps a hand around your neck you cry out

“daddy!”

and he freezes for a second before going at you even harder

he squeezes your throat

“yeah, honey, gonna come for daddy? huh? gonna let daddy take care of you?”

and you know theres a double meaning behind his words but you just cry out

“yesyesyes, daddy, you take such good care of me, fuuuuck”

and then you’re coming while he rails you into a car that’s worth more than your existence and when he comes he forces you into another orgasm

and with all the work and running around you havent been able to get laid in a long long time

and he’s so good that you just feel so weak and drained afterwards

and then he whispers gently “you’re calling off working tomorrow, you need sleep, and i’m gonna cover everything for you for at least the next two months”

as much as you want to argue, you’ve slept maybe 10 hours in the past 2 weeks and you dont have it in you

and yeah it would be nice to be taken care of for a little bit

mo is so soft and sweet with you when he takes you home

as if he didnt just fuck the life out of you

and when you wake up in his bed, you’re a little disoriented for a second

he’s already awake, facing you with his arm wrapped around your waist

he’s pressing kisses into your neck and shoulder and you jump at the sudden realization of

“fuck! i have to get to work!” and mo pulls you back down and reminds you that everyone has a day off today

which you’d forgotten due to lack of sleep and the fact that you’d lost track of what day it even was anymore

he pulls you into his chest and buries his nose in your hair

“please, just let me take care of you,” he murmurs

you’re about to argue, now having the energy to, when he speaks again

“fuck, you work so fucking hard, and you’re amazing at what you do, and you’re so young, you don’t deserve all of this i’m not asking you to quit either job or move in with me if you dont want to or anything, i’m just asking you to let me help you. i dont want or expect anything in return okay?”

“mo, i-“

“please just think about it okay? i wanna lighten the load a little bit. and make sure you get enough sleep. i just wanna help you.”

it takes you a few days to think it over and get back to him

but you say yes, smiling shyly up at him, thanking him over and over

and he insists that you dont need to thank him

and you also are kind of embarrassed, but you ask him if the offer still stands for you to move in with him.

cause your apartment kinda sucks and the electricity is shitty and the water shuts off sometimes

and you try and promise to pitch in for rent or utilities

but he doesnt even let you breathe in the direction of the bills

which is kind good cause holy shit he lives in a swanky part of town so of course they’re expensive

i feel like he’d try not to push your boundaries, but after that first time you fucked, you just want more

and you initiate things and fuck he wants you so bad

and he tells you that he really really likes you, not just physically

and asks you out on a proper date

but you’re really not there yet, so you definitely sleep in separate rooms

but he pampers you yk

its started off as just covering your basic needs, and then to buying you clothes

and accessories

and a new laptop

and then getting your phone fixed

and then comes the lingerie

and the jewelry

and holy fuck does mo spoil you

he makes good on his promise tho

you keep your job with the leafs and your job as a barista

but being a barista becomes more of an occasional thing yk

because its fun not because you have to pay your student loans

he’s everything you’ve ever wanted

he’s attentive and caring and so fucking good to you

and loves to spoil his girl

and no one on the team is really surprised when he shows up at a bar after a win with his arm wrapped around you

they just chirp him and expose him to you about how he’s liked you forever

you just smile up at him and kiss his cheek

and you’re really glad that he found out your little secret

#like #its all i can think about #work today was rough #all because of THIS #fuck #mo daddy #morgan rielly #morgan rielly smut #maple leafs #maple leafs imagine #maple leafs smut #morgan rielly imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #sugar daddy!morgan rielly

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erinelezabeth920 · 4 years

Text

Love in the Time Of

Shame. Is the thing I want to talk about. Love in the time of shame.

I mean I don’t really want to talk about it. I’d really rather not actually, except that I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m not the only one. Not by a long shot. So here we go. Last night I wanted to go to bed by 10pm, so I could get up early and go on a run BEFORE signing into Zoom at 7:45am to lead a yoga meditation class for my friends and family, BEFORE doing some reading of self-help books and solo meditation BEFORE I start trying to do an impossible job from my living room for an unclear number of hours per day with an attention span of basically zero to negative.

When I write this it sounds absurd. I know that. But brains are weird. Especially mine. Remember the anxiety based overfunctioning/ underfunctioning I talked about last time? Overfunctioning much? Anyway, that didn’t happen. We had finished a DnD session with my brother and college roommate, (my character is a rouge-gnome named Huckleberry Shake who has short purple hair, is really good at sneaking and lock picking, and carries a crossbow. I like to imagine a sort of cross between ‘Midsummer's Night Dream’ and Assassin’s Creed’.) Anyway, it was around 9:30 ish pm. It was also Cinco de Mayo, and we had picked up tacos from the neighborhood about a 15 minute drive south with a strong hispanic/ latinx population. The past couple weeks I’ve been referencing that line in ‘Wet Hot American Summer’ where they all pile into the pick up truck to go into town and go batshit crazy. “It always feels good to get away from camp, even for an hour!” Just to drive somewhere to pick up food feels like a crazy adventure these days.

I made us magaritas when I got back; they were bright blue because we had some kind of blue liquor that I can’t remember the name of. After DnD I wanted to watch some TV. I made myself another margarita and some popcorn, which is my quarantine coping crutch. I watched this trashy but great Netflix show about teenagers in North Carolina called Outer Banks. Except the episodes kept ending on cliff hangers (OMG he KILLED HIM?), so I kept watching. I painted my toenails purple, using packing peanuts to space them out. I was kind of proud of myself actually.

It was about midnight when I went to bed. I woke up with a small headache, a result of tequila and salty popcorn and poor quality sleep. I was going to go on a walk/ run and listen to the news. I didn’t. I snoozed the alarm about ten times. It was raining out. I led my yoga class and ate some sourdough toast. And here we are. The light is filtering through the apartment windows, as I sit on the couch in my sweat pants. The crazy thing is, I just feel SO much shame. And guilt. Guilt for having a headache, shame for not waking up early to do all these things I honestly don’t even need to do. I feel shame for not writing more often, shame when I look at the dishes that are dirty. Shame when I don’t go outside to go on a walk, exercise, or when I close my work laptop early to lie on the couch and scroll through my phone. I’ve been trying the past couple weeks to figure out this phenomena that seems to be happening to me, but also to other people I talk to. I feel okay for about 3 days, and then completely collapse. I just can’t do anything, flatline, but there doesn’t really seem to be a direct cause. It’s just like dropping on the roller coaster without warning. I was telling a friend the other day that on weekends, all I do is sleep. Usually I’m a very active person who has an almost clincally hard time sitting still. I haven’t felt like this, I told him, since I worked the hardest jobs in my life- full time wilderness therapy or residential treatment for children with Autism working 12 hour days. I work MAYBE six hours a day these days but probably more like four, broken up by lying on the couch watching documentaries and scrolling on my phone. So why am I SO DAMN EXHAUSTED?

I did some research the other week into chronic stress for a newsletter article I was writing for parents of my elementary school. Chronic stress is different than acute stress, I found, because it has no concrete beginning and end. It’s not like a car crash or a loved one dying. Instead (for those of us with the intense privelage not to be on the front lines- god bless if you are) it’s a constant low hum in the background through news headlines, grocery store lines and crossing the street when another person is coming your direction on the sidewalk. It’s a disruption of normality with no conceivable ending, sending our brains into a low key 24/7 flight or fight mode, draining us with tiny doses of adrenaline and uncertainty that build up over time. It’s not in the forefront, but it’s there in our tight shoulders, exhaustion, inattention, insomnia, short fuses and total lack of motivation. Until we can’t take it any more and crash, seemingly out of nowhere. And then the whole thing starts again.

As Brene Brown says, “We’ve hit our collective weary.” In one podcast episode she interviews a grief expert. He says, we are all grieving right now. Even if we don’t name it, we’re showing the symptoms. But instead of grieving the death of an individual (for most of us), we are grieving the lifestyles we’ve lost (work settings, close contact, friendships, normalcy). And grief exhausts us. BUT, because most of us aren’t experiencing acute grief (ie a loved one dying) we feel shame on TOP of that grief, that we shouldn’t be tired or inept when others have it SO much worse. It’s a meta emotion. Shame layered on grief like a terrible lasagna. How can we be justified in experiencing grief when all we do is sit on the couch and watch Netflix and eat snacks for hours a day? We’re not even in a wartime or something concrete that gives justification and purpose. Instead it’s just a vague, deep sense of disruption of life as we know it. But it’s just as real. I was walking on the beach at the time I listened to the podcast; when he said the words, “We are grieving the loss of the world as we knew it,” the sun was setting over the water. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

A few weeks ago, Andy cut my hair. When the pieces fell to the floor of our friend’s porch and the scissors snipped away larger chunks than I woud have liked, my stomach dropped. I started panicking. I felt like the world was ending. I don’t panic when I read the news, go to the grocery store in a mask, or even read the death toll. But when my hair fell to the ground around me in the gathering twilight, I absolutely lost it. I came home and sobbed. It was the first time I’d cried since the pandemic began, and it’s like it just all came out. I was so angry at Andy, and he felt so bad. I was a shell of a person for twelve hours. I cancelled morning yoga for the first time in six weeks, lamenting everyone would have look at me close up on a screen. I wanted to stay in bed forever, (until we fixed the haircut and it actually looked pretty good). But for a second there I was broken, and it was because of a goddamn haircut. I mean for Christ sakes, people are dying out there. It made me feel so petty and stupid. There’s a global pandemic happening, and I am distraught FROM MY HAIR?!

But that’s how grief works. We can’t look at the thing head on, it’s too much. A death toll is just numbers. Our brains seek to survive, to normalize, to adapt just to get through. So instead the trauma seeps into the corners, slowly creeping into our bodies and collective exhaustion until one little thing causes the world to come crashing down. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. And then we feel overwhelming shame for being so affected by something so little. For me, my lizard brain was honestly convinced I would never be attractive or happy again.

(ALSO to be fair we watched, ‘Little Women’ a few days later. In the movie there’s the scene where Jo cuts all her hair off to give her mother money to travel to their sick father in the war. She’s then pictured crying under the stairwell. “Is it mother?” her sister asks. “No,” she says, “It’s MY HAIR!”. "See?!” I said to Andy.)

The underlying theme here is shame. We’re ashamed of our emotions because they don’t seem justified. Comparative suffering. My suffering isn’t nearly as bad as others, therefore I should not feel this way. I’m ashamed of myself for eating snacks and worried I’m going to gain a bunch of weight. Then I’m ashamed for being ashamed instead of being body positive. I’m ashamed of myself for enjoying an evening with drinks (yes plural), popcorn, painting my toes and watching teenagers who are actually in their twenties look for buried treasure. Honestly, it sounds like a great night. And it was.

I just finished re-reading “The Four Agreements”, the Toltec wisdom book. The first agreement is “Be Impeccable With Your Word.” I assumed from the first time I read it, it meant “always tell the truth”. The reality though, is it means, our words have power. Especially our words about ourselves. Just this morning I entered my enchilada and margaritas from yesterday into my ‘Weight Watchers’ app and felt terrible. I told myself I was fat, lazy and useless. Which seems absurd when I write it out, but that’s the honest to goodness narrative inside my head. Being impeccable with our word means watching what we say to ourselves, because our words create a reality. We create our own cycles of shame.

Even at this moment, typing this, I feel ashamed that this piece of writing is so scattered. My English major brain is mad at me. Get it together Erin. Find a cohesive theme and stick to it. Get emotional, but not too emotional. Tell stories, but not too many stories. But writing at it’s best is vulnerability and transparency; and honestly right now it’s hard to hold on to any one thought for longer than a few seconds. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just me. Little pieces, scattered thoughts, just trying to put the puzzle together. (Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on puzzles... Andy is MUCH better than me at them, and, saving the face of our relationship, let’s just say that is another dangerous straw perched on the camel’s back through only the fault of my own...) Anyway, I think at this point, just find anything that makes you smile. Literally anything. I personally like Brad Leone’s Bon Appetite Youtube channel “It’s Alive.” He makes me laugh so much. The episode with him and Orville Peck making elote almost broke me. Find those things, hold on to them and be kind to yourself. It’s okay to feel less than. Just remember you’re not. We’ve collectively hit weary, the point in the race where you’ve been running for so long, but the finish line is so far away. It’s okay just to go one step at a time.

Paint your toes. Eat your popcorn. Drink your margaritas. Whatever we can do just to survive. One step at a time. You’re not alone.

And that’s love in the time of.

#mental health #coronavirus #quarantine #seattle

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 years

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I haven't read anything from you for some days. How are you? :)

I appreciate you asking, and I know I haven’t been my usual rambling self on here. I’m alright, but just haven’t had the zip for writing. Three reasons really.

1) Busy!- Yeah, what else is new! LOL That new section of tree falling on Mom’s house, the lock on that house breaking, the fact I hadn’t cut the brush under the powerline to this house in a year and now vines had nearly reached it, trying to figure out the computer problems so I can get new pics off my camera, protecting the cats from a mysterious something that literally tore apart one of them, etc (you REALLY don’t want me listing it all) had me constantly working on “things” on top of all the previous “things” that were still being worked on.

Yesterday I had worn myself so down that when I took my ankle braces off I found myself unconsciously doung this thing I do when I’m really hurting of walking on the sides of my feet. It hurts less BUT it isn’t as stable, so what happened? I stumbled walking the plank into my room! Oh, I bounce well and didn’t fal into the “pit of despair” so I wasn’t injured at all by the fall, but it is a sign of how tired I was. AND I still had to go cook my meal! LOL

2) Lack of sleep!- Again, it sounds like “What else is new?” But actually my sleeping has gotten worse. The causes vary from night to night. Sometimes worries, sometimes breathing problems, sometimes I have a very hard time getting myself to go to bed, sometimes it’s itchy poison ivy and bug bites, sometimes it’s “This damn bed refuses to cozy tonight!”... but whatever, not falling asleep until 3am, waking up again at 5am, lying awake until 9am, and then sleeping again until noon isn’t fun.

So I’m been trying to not write when I’m wanting to be asleep. This means no more insomnia writing (though I have a few still in drafts before I stopped letting myself do it) and no more writing just before bed. Also I’ve been tired enough that stringing words together sounds exhausting! LOL

3) Mood- Umm...how should I put this? “I am sick of the human race”? “The stupidity of people drains me”? “Every day, maybe even more during all these supposedly encouraging all-in-this-together pandemic posts, I am become more aware of just how outside of society I already am”? I dunno.

To be honest, that’s a whole post in itself. I’ll give you the gist..

All my life I’ve realized my brain is wired oddly, that I see things different that others, and that even my life is highly atypical. I used to think one day I’d discover a place, or at least people, where I belong. For the last few years I’ve been working to accept the fact I actually fit nowhere and that this is okay.

My key method of coping with this has always been to assume that people are smarter than they seem and always capable of so much more. Lack of perception was a lack of looking, of being distracted. Lack of understanding was simply not having the information broken down in basic and relatable ways.

It wasn’t discounting my differences, but seeing them as just a minor thing. Yes I notice things that others don’t, spot the patterns, can tell you the shock twist ending of a movie 20min in...but so what. I see things differently, but you can say the same about literal sight. Just give them some metaphorical glasses and they could see like me...

Not that anyone wants to, just that they could.

Who would want to always be the one the one that when it’s said “everyone thinks” or “everyone feels” or “everyone knows” has to go “Um, well, I don’t”.

The weird one.

The odd one.

The strange one.

The one that sees everything in shadings and nuances when the world expects binary answers.

The action hero takes of pf the bookish girl’s glasses and says “Why Miss Jones, you’re beautiful!” She’s blind as a bat, but she never wears the glasses again because now she’s won the hunk, and being alone was really no fun.

People weren’t stupid, they just had the sense to belong instead.

But now it’s “You know what? Most people, even “smart” ones, are fuckin’ stupid! And if I really am usually smart, resourceful, etc, then that’s the most terrifying thing imaginable!”

No really. Over my life people have commented about me being smart, resourceful, honest, kind, sweet (geez, really?), insightful, and so many things that sound lovely but have a disturbing element. I assumed I wasn’t being exceptional when these things were said, but only doing whatever was in my nature. If these things are considered notable and praiseworthy in me, does mean most people can’t even meet the low bar I’m easily stepping over?

Put simply, if I am smart, them just HOW stupid are most people?

And recently it’s gotten to where everywhere I turn I see it. Misinformation and pseudo science, missing the point right in front of them, not seeing or understanding the other, assuming without any facts, all absolutes and rage...

I mean, the human race is facing a pandemic and they still can’t fucking work TOGETHER! That’s the best example of the collective stupidity of the human race since...oh, climate change which we’ve done such a GREAT job in dealing with.

Look, Trumpland obviously is a factor, but even in attempts at escapism I get slammed into it. I almost never to get to go “ YES! That’s it! That’s how I feel/think/live (delete as applicable)!” When I do the fandoms tend to insist I am wrong in my own personal take, not just “well, I see it differently, but cool you do” but “you are WRONG, I will prove my version is canon so you have to stop liking it that way!”. There is no place for me in fandoms either.

Recently I’ve begun to get really irritated and fed up.

I mean, growing up I used to beg to know “Why can’t they see???” when something was blindingly obvious to me that no one seemed to get. Back then I turned it on myself. How could I get them to see? I’d cry because they would constantly let me know I wasn’t like them. I had several people calling me their best friend despite the fact they didn’t understand me at all. Everybody is different, just some of us are more different. It didn’t make me angry at them, just made me wonder what was wrong with me.

But now I find myself getting angry out of proportion to the trigger.

Take a this from a few months back. I heard a guy in a podcast, in relation to some movie, saying that if faced with god they would never dare be critical of any horrors of the world because you never disagree with god to it’s face. But he wasn’t just speaking for himself but said no one would. I got angry, really, REALLY angry, because you know what you do when faced with an unjust and cruel god? You fuckin’ spit in their eye! You don’t yield to monsterousness because the monster is powerful, you fight back! You blow up the goddamn death star (repeatedly if necessary)!

I didn’t get angry because he was saying he was a coward or because he pragmatically would sacrifice morality for survival. I wasn’t even angry because that’s the kind of thinking that lets dicators and bullies hold power. I was angry because he assumed everyone would agree with him and that people like me don’t exist.

I do exist.

I know my reactions and views are frequently atypical. I know I notice things others don’t. I know my lifestyle is peculiar. I know I don’t really fit anywhere and never will. My brain is just wired up in a rather strange way.

I know everything that makes me odd, but I just don’t like having to constantly be reminded.

But right now I am reminded every time I look at or listen to anything. Yes, even posts on Tumblr.

Frankly, the human race breaks by heart.

I end up angry, sad, lonely and intensely frustrated. I kinda want to avoid writing in this mood. (Which I obviously just did! LOL)

Sorry I rambled so much. Guess I made up for a lack of posting with this rant! LOL

#mood #writing #belonging #tired #my day #busy #frustrations #I need a nap!

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