#liquid lipstick mistakes to avoid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

okkalo · 1 year

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blue lock boys doing your makeup trend

characters: rin, yukimiya, shidou, isagi, chigiri

warnings: shidou 😟😟, cuss words

rin

- he’s trying.

- his focused face makes him look like he knows what he’s doing.

- he doesn’t.

- if you record he is literally glaring at the camera the whole time.

- names products by how they look. meaning u will NOT get the actual name out of him. (he knows blush and mascara though!!)

- “this is the brown liquid” (ur getting there!!)

- skips the primer.

- if u have multiple foundation colors he gets so confused why one doesn’t match 💀

- “the hell is this?” THE FACE HE MAKES TOO??

- puts on too much blush and just stares in wonder of what he did wrong.

- that or he applies the blush as lipstick

- he applies your lipstick (or i guess blush) weird?? makes you pucker your lips to do it LOL

- forces you to do your eyeliner and mascara because he doesn’t want to hurt you </3

- probably mumbles under his breath the whole time about how stuff isn’t working how it should

- giggle at him and he will give you a look and just leave.

- the finished look was a 6/10

isagi

- he’s trying but nicer.

- i can see him having no sense of color theory whatsoever so your eyeshadow and lipstick look HORRIBLE together

- probably this bright purple eyeshadow with a bright red lipstick

- he doesn’t forget anything though!!

- puts the concealer in all the wrong spots. he thinks it should go where the contour goes

- another guy to use blush as lipstick

- “that’s not right” at least he knows

- will do your eyeliner wing (which turned out to be horrible) but completely avoids your waterline

- avoids the mascara but watches in amazement as you curl your eyelashes

- gives you so many kisses throughout

- the finished look was a 3/10 😔

yukimiya

- he’s the best out of everyone because he actually knows what he’s doing.

- he might confuse the names at some point but is quick to fix his mistake.

- sososo gentle when applying products to your face too!

- he smiles so big once he sees you close your eyes at his light touch

- probably uses the wrong brushes </3

- goes down to your neck with your foundation!!

- does your eyeliner but doesn’t do your lashes (the wing is a 8/10)

- tries so hard on the eyeshadow but it just doesn’t work

- pretty colors but horrible with knowing where to stop (he went to your brows with it </3)

- he muttered a lot of soft “oops” during this time no doubt

- also gives a lot of kisses during this time

- actually so proud once he finishes it though

- compliment his abilities!!

- 9.1/10

shidou

- idk why u wanted him to do this.

- he’s literally making you look like a clown

- makes a mess of your makeup and does not care.

- probably super good at makeup too but just wants to be an asshole

- puts SO MUCH foundation on you. you are literally caked

- puts so much bronzer on too and swipes it in all the wrong directions

- a lot of product got in your nose because he gave that area a lot of attention

- absolutely went crazy with the blush. it is everywhere on your cheek.

- the same with highlighter.

- goes crazy with the setting powder as well. you both sneezed multiple times

- picks bright blue eyeshadow and goes way too far with it

- he was fr about to do your eyeliner and lashes (don’t let him. he will twitch during this time and i know it.)

- takes SO many pictures of you

- makes a video of you with the clown music in the background 💀

- 0/10. rethink ur decisions.

chigiri

- “stay still” x10.

- is good at makeup and knows what everything is but god forbid you move an inch. he literally told you to stop breathing once like??

- if you try to be funny and move your head to the side while he’s putting stuff on he will immediately stop and just give you a stare. no words to be said. he just stares. it’s not a nice stare either </3

- if you get distracted and look away while he’s getting a product he will yank your head back to the position he so desires.

- you’re actually kinda impressed with how well the makeup turns out.

- it’s a strong 8.5/10, he messed up the eyeliner and lipstick part (“maybe stay still next time”).

- will absolutely squish your cheeks and make you pucker your lips to kiss him at the end.

unedited thanks for reading!

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limerental · 2 years

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ficletober 2022 day 6 - frinfran reunion

To her mortification, Fringilla discovers that the woman she had a dramatic falling out with and still cannot help but love is part of the super secret coven of Sorceresses she has been invited to join. Awkward.

This is twn!Witcher canon projected into the future so has possibly some vague book spoilers. Content warning for some canon-typical elf racism and implied homophobia from Assire.

Fringilla was fairly certain she was going to die. At the very least, she wished to. This agony was more than she had been trained to endure, more than she could possibly stomach, and she prayed for mercy to any god who still would listen and despaired.

"What are you mumbling about?" whispered Assire beside her. The Nilfgaardian sorceress wore a bright salmon lipstick that clashed with her mauve eyeshadow. Her fingers were pinched around a delicate flute of amber liquid, and she seemed to be feeling the effects of the drink. Or she was simply wearing too much coral blush.

"I'm not mumbling," said Fringilla. She was praying to be turned to dust by a merciful deity. "I'm– nevermind."

"You don't look well," said Assire, her salmon lips pursed. "Did you eat too many of those oysters? I told you to stick to the meats that walk on land. Preferably that flies above the land. Closer to the heavens, better for the gut."

Fringilla pointedly picked up another oyster and sucked out the salty meat, though her satisfaction at Assire's huffs of disdain only lasted long enough for the sound of bright, familiar laughter to ring out through the small gathering, plunging Fringilla back into ceaseless misery.

Across the hall stood Francesca Findebair, Enid an Gleanna, the Daisy of the Valley, new Queen of Dol Blathanna. She was speaking with Triss Merigold and Keira Metz, the latter gesturing widely with her hands and the former nodding along with a blush tinged across her cheeks, clearly awed by Francesca's beauty.

Or perhaps just drunk. The Lodge's post-meeting cocktail hour had gone on far longer than ordinary gatherings following covert political strategy sessions. Her time in the court of Nilfgaard had certainly never involved lengthy post-discussion refreshments. Sometimes there had been lectures. Reprimands. Complimentary tickets to a public hanging. Far less seafood resting on fogged ice and far less casual flirtation.

At the moment, Fringilla would rather stand alone before Emhyr var Emreis himself and confess to the most heinous of practical jokes played at His Imperial Majesty's expense than stand another moment watching the woman she had loved laugh and smile and never look her way. Still loved, probably.

When Assire had invited her to join this strange Lodge of Sorceresses, she had not remembered the names of any of those involved. Fringilla had been willing to accept that several members would likely be those she had personally wronged in the first Northern War, but only upon their arrival in Montecalvo had Fringilla realized the true depths of her despair.

"This was a mistake," said Fringilla, perusing the nearest table of appetizers simply to avoid looking at Francesca any longer.

"The oysters? Yes, I already said that several times, dear."

"Not the oysters. This whole affair. It's gone on long enough."

"Cocktail hour? Well, I do suppose it's been a while."

"No, not the–" Fringilla sighed, selecting a savory pastry the size of her thumb and eating several from the platter. "Nevermind."

"That elf woman," said Assire in a lowered voice. "You've been staring at her all evening."

"No I haven't."

"You know her?"

Fringilla could not help but look again, seeing the way Francesca's long, braided hair flowed like water down her back as she laughed. Her face in profile was exquisitely beautiful, and Fringilla recalled how it had felt to walk beside her through Xin'trean gardens, her smile serene and attention wholly hers.

"She's very pretty, that's all."

"Ah, they all are," said Assire, somewhat morose. She toyed with an elaborate jeweled necklace that she had spent far too much on for the occasion. "But yes, that one's a natural beauty. No need for ornamentation. If you like that sort of thing. You know. Elves. And sheesh, the way they fawn over her… Do you think all of them are the same way as…"

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," breathed Fringilla, ignoring Assire's casual bigotry.

To her mortification, Francesca's attention turned her way.

"Oh, she heard you," sighed Assire tipsily. "Do you think she heard what I… Oh dear, she's coming over."

"Quiet, Assire," said Fringilla, panicking.

Francesca had indeed taken her leave from the others and was floating their way, her hands clasped before her and beautiful expression soft and inscrutable.

Fringilla considered the consequences of attempting to breach the castle's anti-portalling measures to disappear. She had already calculated several methods of doing so by the time Francesca drew close.

To Fringilla's utter dismay, she drew closer still, close enough to kiss each of her cheeks, Francesca's powder-soft skin brushing her own, her floral fragrance filling her nose. Fringilla stood rigid and still, hoping her face was not doing anything too ridiculous.

"My Fringilla," said Francesca, her musical voice sweet around her name. Fringilla was likely to expire immediately. "I apologize for delaying coming to speak with you. I fear I must admit, I'm a coward. I did not feel brave enough to even look your way. Knowing how we last parted. You must have thought me horribly rude, not acknowledging you all night."

"Oh," said Fringilla. "I hadn't noticed."

Francesca smiled in the familiar pitying way she did when she knew Fringilla was full of shit.

"Let's talk somewhere private," said Francesca.

Fringilla braced for further mortification but despite herself, felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Though she had tried desperately to forget the warmth that the elf's voice inspired in her body, it was a futile effort. She felt the same way as she had all along. Likely always would.

Francesca offered her arm, and Fringilla took only a moment to decide to link their elbows together. Assire watched them go with a bewildered expression, clutching her drink to her chest.

"Is your friend ok?" asked Francesca, leaning close. "She looks distressed."

"She's… experiencing a touch of culture shock. She'll be fine. As long as no one here gets drunk enough to try dancing on tables and taking off their clothes." Such things had been known to happen at large gatherings of Northern sorceresses. Fringilla had had the misfortune of attending several such functions in her youth.

Francesca laughed, a sweet and carefree sound. Fringilla, as it turned out, would live to see another day.

#my fic #frinfran #fringilla x francesca #the witcher #ficletober

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serycosmetics · 2 years

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Fool-Proof Guide to Use Liquid Lipstick to Get the Perfect Pout

To be honest, we all love flaunting our pucker lips with a great pop of color in our Instagram stories! All the lipstick junkies and their undying love for liquid lipsticks form an integral part of their makeup routine. Of all the makeup products that find space in our makeup bags, liquid matte lipstick would make to the top list. They are easy to apply, usually stay for good long hours, and require minimal touchups if applied properly. There’s nothing as appealing as your lipstick which is smudge-free and can survive everything from a passionate kiss from Bae to sipping your favorite coffee.

What we love about liquid lipstick the most is how the lips become well defined and it glides smoothly without flaking or creating creases. Once applied, all you need to give it is a few seconds to dry, and then it's set for the whole day. If applied properly, liquid lipsticks are long-lasting and give zero stain transfers keeping your lippies pout ready all day long. We know applying lipsticks can be intimidating so here’s a quick guide that will take care of all your struggles while applying lipstick.

How to Apply Liquid Lipstick the Right Way

Preparing the Lips First

Flaky and chapped lips can’t hold on to the lipsticks for long and thus prepping the lips by exfoliating properly becomes mandatory. Smooth and supple lips without any cracks have the power to hold on to any kind of lipstick for a longer time and provide a smooth canvas for the application. First thing first, take any DIY lip scrub or apply Vaseline on the bare lips and leave it for a minute. Then take a soft cloth and gently wipe the Vaseline off the lips that will also remove the dried and flaky layer. You can also use a spare toothbrush instead of a cloth to wipe the dead skin. With this lips will retain the moisture and get rid of the loose skin on the surface.

Add a Base Layer before Lipstick

A common lipstick application mistake that we all make is not setting the base. Just like the face, even the lips need a smooth canvas so that lipstick can easily glide without bleeding. Once your lips are plumped and ready, opt for a lightweight concealer or foundation as a lip primer to even out the fine lines and also give a great color playoff to the lip color. Applying base is not only essential for the face but also for the lips as it avoids discoloration and also increases the longevity of the lipstick you apply.

Define the Lips

Liquid lipstick gives a nice precision to the lips however it’s always nice to stay on the safer side and outline the lips to avoid lipsticks from bleeding or smudging. You can use a lip liner in the same shade as lipstick to define the lips before painting them. It is advised to use the lip liner to trace the lips to make them look fuller for ensuring the smooth application of the lipstick. With gentle hands start drawing the cupid’s bow and move to the outer edges. Repeat the same process for the lower lips.

Layer with the Liquid Lipstick

Once you have lined those gorgeous lips, start gliding the lipstick on the cupid’s bow for that perfect pout shape and move to the edge from the center of the lips. You can also draw an X shape on the cupid’s bow and spread it evenly to the outer corners for flawless application. Apply one coat first, mix it equally and then move to the second coat if needed for more coverage and opaqueness as liquid lipsticks are already pigmented in nature. Don’t forget the final finish which includes blotting the lipstick with a tissue to wipe off the excess product and prevent the lip color from feathering.

That’s it guys! Get that full coverage of the best long-lasting lipstick in just a few steps and bring on that fierce chick within you.

#Fashion #Beauty #beautyproducts

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allurecosmetics · 2 years

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Top 5 *Must* Have Make-up Brushes for Beginners

We all know how beneficial a makeup brush is when it comes to applying makeup. We've all spent countless hours watching online beauty tutorials, and sometimes even professionals are intimidated by a large number of tools used. especially if you're new to the field of makeup, since we all know that having a nice pair of makeup brushes can make or break the look you're going for. Take a look at our basic round-up if you're not sure where to begin.1. Eyeshadow Blending Brush:

Blotchy eyelids? Never. A beginner’s mistake is not investing on a nice eyeshadow blending brush, which will result in a messy, amateur-looking shadow application. To avoid this, get a blending brush, which is a medium-sized, slightly fluffy brush that fans out to rub and mix in eyeshadow. This brush is required to quickly elevate your shadow look to the next level.

2. Concealer Brush:

This brush is essential for concealing dark circles and imperfections. Choose one with dense, tightly packed bristles, a flat, slightly tapered shape, and the ability to work with cream and liquid concealers. This brush is perfect for applying the product precisely around the nose, inner corners of the eyes, and lips, as well as removing any lipstick bleeds.

3. Small Eyeshadow Brush:

A tightly packed synthetic bristles brush is ideal for applying loose pigments or even creamy shimmer eyeshadows. It allows you to pick up a sufficient amount of product and pack it in without sacrificing the product's richness or color intensity. You may also use this brush to apply a highlighter to your brow bone and inner corners of your eyes.

High-performance makeup brushes with ultra-fine tightly packed bristles provide instant high coverage.

4. Liner Brush:

The bristles on a liner brush are typically long and thin, with tightly packed bristles. Consider it a fine paintbrush that will help you obtain the ideal flick to complete your winged tip. It works well with both gel and liquid eyeliner formulas.

5. Powder Brush:

As a beginner, you'll want to buy tools that can be used for multiple purposes, and a fluffy, soft powder brush is exactly what you need. It helps set your make-up in place with loose or pressed powder, eliminates oily T-zones and under-eye creases, and can also be used to apply blush to your cheeks for a rosy, flushed look.

If you are also planning to buy a good makeup brush, then you can buy a makeup brush from Allure Cosmetics Company.

Allure Cosmetics is one of the best makeup brushes in India Buy professional makeup brushes online from the official website and you check also makeup brushes prices online at www.allurecosmetics.in

#makeup #makeup brush #salon #beauty

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smurphyse · 2 years

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Emily's Mistake

Masterlist

Part 2 of Mutual Irritation

Pairing: Post Prison Jaded!Spencer Reid x Witsec!Reader

Word Count: 1914

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: angst, mentions of Maeve, mentions of rape and domestic abuse, stalking.

Summary: Spencer and the Team try to go over the Reader's protection detail, but she's too upset to talk about it. Spencer struggles with his impending special assignment.

Like I said, this is Jaded!Reid... he's not in a great place... so forgive his inner dialogue

Sitting across the table, Spencer watched as Emily’s mistake crossed and uncrossed her arms, obviously uncomfortable as she sat with the team in the Round Table Room. Her mascara streamed down her face, her red lipstick smeared from wiping her face and rubbing away tears.

The team had met them back at The Cracked Sign to process the scene and the box, seeing what they could find with the shoes before coming back. Luke had offered her his jacket on the ride into Quantico, giving her a small smile as she glared at him, eventually turning and staring out the window in lieu of an answer.

She refused to look at Emily, instead boring a hole in the table with her dark eyes. Her limbs trembled here and there, and Luke offered her his jacket again, but she waved him off without a word. She wasn’t cold, she was exposed, even in the safety of the FBI compound, and Luke’s attempts at comfort were likely only making her more uneasy.

“I need to call my accountant before you move me,” she said quietly between the wobbling of her chin. She sniffled hard and wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup further, “I have to liquidate everything again and make sure my employees are taken care of.”

“We’re not moving you,” Emily told her, and for the first time in hours, their eyes met as she looked up sharply.

"What?" she asked, and though her tone rose, she looked even smaller sitting in the big chair. "Emily, he'll kill me!"

"Y/N, listen," Emily tried to soothe. She sat down next to her and pressed a hand to the girl's arm, but she ripped it away and tried to curl further in on herself.

Emily placed her hands flat on the table, in a move Spencer knew was to show that she wouldn't try touching her again. She sighed before she spoke again.

"Spencer is going to stay with you while my team finds Finn Doyle."

The girl's eyebrows furrowed together, her gaze flicking through the array of men at the table, trying to figure out which one was him. Her eyes landed on Luke for a moment, and he gave her a polite smile back.

Her dark eyes went wide and scared, and she turned in the chair to stand as far away from all of them as possible. Spencer felt bad for her, knowing the reasons behind her behavior all too well. He'd told Emily he didn't want to know what happened to her, but he already knew pieces of it.

She'd been brutalized, terrorized by this man. There was a scar on one of her cheekbones, the left one. Spencer had a similar one himself, and he'd seen it enough times to know it was the memory of a right handed punch from a strong man, one strong enough to punch and split skin deep enough to scar.

She held herself stiffly around the men of the BAU, especially Luke. She avoided eye contact and obviously wished to be wearing more clothing, but she wouldn't take anything from Luke. She probably didn't want to owe him anything.

Cases like these, women like this, he'd seen it enough times to know what probably happened to her.

He beat her, she ran. He stalked her, she ran. He found her, he probably almost killed her. She somehow survived, just like the other strong but petrified women he'd met over the years, and she ran again.

He probably raped her. He probably did worse.

Spencer sighed, he really did not want to get involved in this one. She was clearly not over her trauma, would likely never be, and Spencer didn't want to be stuck in the same house while she relived it as the team looked for her abuser.

Spencer leaned down as the girl faced the window and trembled again, pulling a cardigan from his go bag and handing it to JJ. Unlike Emily, she probably wouldn’t get punched for this.

“Go over there and put this on her,” he whispered when she made a face. “Don’t ask her if she wants it, just put it over her so she stops shaking.”

“What?” JJ asked anyway, and Spencer’s eyelid began to twitch with annoyance. He just wanted this woman to stop her quivering and sit down.

“Just do it,” he snapped, and JJ shot him a pissy look as she stood. She went cautiously to Y/N, from the side so she saw her coming, giving her a polite smile before slipping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she murmured, shrugging her arms into the sleeves and tugging it tightly over her scantily clad body. She shifted from foot to foot, those six inch heels obviously bothering her, but she never asked for a chair or made to go back to the table.

“Spence is the best,” JJ said quietly, smiling again when she looked at her skeptically. “You’ll be safe with him.”

The woman turned to look back at them with an annoyed groan, “I need to be back at the shop by six. I have to open up.”

“We still need to go over your detail,” Emily piped up again, but she just held her hand out and interrupted her.

“I got Dani good and drunk last night, she can’t do it and she’s the only other manager. I have a shipment of first editions coming in and I want to go over them before things get too busy.”

Spencer’s ears perked up a bit at that, first editions. The one good thing about this detail would be the bookshop downstairs. Emily had mentioned to him that Y/N also ran a research library in the back of the shop for students and scholars, that it was her passion besides her own writing. At least he’d get to check out some new books while he worked this boring case.

It was mostly going to be him sitting around while this poor woman sat scared out of her mind, and Spencer knew he would be little to no comfort for her, and to be honest… he didn’t want to be that for her.

Her hair was dark like Maeve’s, though it was much darker and curlier. He liked it, liked the way it bounced out of her clipped up hair as she paced the room. He didn’t want to like that, or to notice the curve of her waist in that backless shirt, or how even terrified she walked in those stilettos with confidence.

For one, it wasn’t appropriate to notice such things about a victim he was being sworn to protect. For another, this wasn’t one of her books. They weren’t going to grow more comfortable with one another and become friends, perhaps even lovers. This was yet another job, another case that was either going to go well and slink into the ether of his memory, or blow up in his face and haunt him forever.

He wasn’t looking forward to spending time with her while she suffered. In all his years working with the BAU, he’d done it enough times. It was getting to him, bothering him more with each passing day and sticking in his brain even into the night. He preferred teaching at Quantico, where all he had to do was talk, and people listened, and he graded papers and went home without images of rape and murder victims ripping through his mind every moment of the day.

“Look, Miss L/N,” Spencer finally spoke up, clasping his hands together with a clap. She flinched, so he put them under the table and smoothed them over his thighs. “The story is: I’m your friend from college, staying with you and helping you out with the store-.”

“I don’t need help with my store,” she snapped, her shaking voice turning to steel as her gaze shot to him.

“We know, it’s just for the story-,” Emily tried, but she shook her head.

“To make me look weak?” she asked, pressing a palm to her chest as she stood wrapped in his shirt. “I’ve worked my ass off to make The Cracked Spine a safe place for people in my neighborhood, Emily, you know that!”

“We need a reason for him to be there,” Emily grunted, standing tall and moving over to Y/N. “I need you to trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” she laughed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks once more. Emily took a step back, but the girl advanced to her. “I trusted you, and all it’s gotten me is thirteen years of my life down the drain!

“You know, when I was in that hospital bed in Dallas, I figured they’re gonna move me again anyways. You know what I did?”

Emily shook her head, wrapping her arms around her waist as she looked down at the shorter woman and shivered under the weight of her rage. Her mascara streamed down her face, her cheeks ruddy and blotchy as her jaw shook.

“I looked up my mom, and I found her obituary.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Emily gasped, her chest heaving as her eyes welled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“She never stopped looking for me,” she whispered, her voice full of pain and years of hurt. She shuddered and tightened her grip on Spencer’s cardigan. “Even though she hadn’t seen me in years, she focused all the energy she had on bringing me home. She had no idea I was really still out there. She died never knowing what happened to me, because of you and your incompetence .”

“Okay,” Spencer decided as he stood. Emily looked like one more hit and she might fall apart. The two women separated, taking a step apart and sharing a look of deep hurt that Spencer didn’t want to see any more of.

“Then I'm just your friend, and I asked to help out with the store while I get back on my feet, okay?"

She watched him for a long moment, her big eyes sad and frightened as they brimmed with tears. She shifted from foot to foot, swimming in his cardigan as her patent shoes shined in the dim lights of the room.

“What color were they? The shoes?” she asked, her voice small and far away.

“Uhh,” Spencer hummed, flipping through the file and photos Garcia had printed out for them when they arrived. “Christian Louboutin, size six and a half, six inch heel. Red bottom, gold glitter.”

“I have to get back,” was all she said as she looked away, her arms crossing again over her chest. “I need to go home.”

“Do you have your go-bag ready, Reid?” Emily asked him, and he nodded. He’d make arrangements for some of his other things to be sent to her house if this lasted longer than a few weeks, but for now his duffel bag was enough.

“I’ll take you home,” Spencer told her, picking up his bag and moving around the table. She took a few steps back from him, so he decided to walk ahead and let her follow him out of the room.

Her heels clicked behind him as she followed. He could feel her eyes on him, hear her purse adjusting on her shoulder, those damned heels clicking in time with his loafers down the hall.

His eyelid twitched again.

Emily’s mistake was already becoming his.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Smurph's notes: Like i said! Don't hate Spencer... he's been through a lot... he's tired... maybe the Reader will turn him around a bit??

Also, I decided to make Spencer's POV third person, even regarding the reader. I wanted there to be a really big disconnect between her thoughts and his, if that makes sense?

CM Forever Taglist:

@simplyparker, @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime

Mutual Irritation Taglist:

@hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland

Want to be added to my taglists? Check out this post! Then, message me here to request taglists

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mcwriting · 3 years

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just say I Do

I have been super active lately which is vv weird for me but this has been in my drafts all summer and I thought now was a good time to post it since wedding season is coming to a close :)

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 2945

Warnings: alcohol mention; slight angst with happy ending

She was a walking red flag from the moment she refused to laugh at your jokes.

Sure that sounds like a stupid reason, but more little "quirks," as Tom liked to call them, made themselves present the more he talked about Alaina.

He had been one of your best friends for years, but now he refused to listen.

"She doesn't trust us to hang out anymore?" you had asked incredulously.

"No, no. She's just insecure with the idea of us being alone together. That's all," he tried to reassure you. "I want to prove that I'm trustworthy."

Insecure

Code for "I don't trust you at all but I'm gonna keep using you for my benefit."

She had no reason not to trust him. You'd been in the friendzone for years and neither of you would ever cross a boundary. He was the most trustworthy person you knew.

After a couple weeks of his blatant ignorance of each red flag, you decided saving him from this relationship could never happen. You'd just have to let him drown in it.

So, you kept your mouth shut and ears open every time you hung out as he dumped all of her problems onto you. She'd turned him into her personal therapist and now you'd become his.

Regardless of how much you'd tried to extend an olive branch to her, she denied it every time, continually trying to push you away from her and, subsequently, Tom.

After months of this, yours and Tom's friendship eventually phased itself out.

Years of memories left in the dust .

You were almost happy, though. No more emotional trauma dumps every time you hung out with Tom. No more unnecessary hostility from Alaina. No more hiding your long-standing feelings.

You'd actually tried to tell him how you felt months earlier, but that got squashed when the "big news" he needed to tell you was that he had met someone. That "someone" being Alaina, of course.

You'd finally decompressed from all of the Tom drama when life decided to ramp up again as Harrison popped the all-important question to your female best friend, Rebecca.

The day after his proposal, she'd asked you to be maid of honor and you were quickly thrown into helping plan a wedding.

So you did your job: dress shopping, party planning, and shower throwing.

One unfortunate happenstance was that Tom was Harrison's best man, meaning that you had to see him again, especially within the month before the ceremony.

However, as the month moved forward, you and Tom had reconnected, your friendship much more lighthearted than how you'd left it previously. While Tom still talked about Alaina on occasion, he was no longer dumping everything onto you.

She still showed up to certain things, like a wedding shower and some parties, but you were mostly able to avoid her hostility and focus on Rebecca and Harrison.

Finally, after months and months of planning, the rehearsal dinner came, and you were almost hoping they'd just sign the papers that night and call it a wedding.

You were in the bridal suite touching up your lipstick as Rebecca and Harrison talked with the minister when Alaina appeared behind you, arms crossed.

"What's your angle, y/l/n?"

You furrowed your brows but didn't turn around, continuing to carefully apply the liquid lip as you just looked at her reflection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sister. I'm just here to watch my best friend get married tomorrow."

"Don't play dumb. I know you're trying to get between me and Tom," she huffed.

"I can guarantee that's not what's going on here. We're friends again. That's all."

"You've been trying to squeeze your way into our relationship ever since it started. Forcing Tom to hang out with you alone, always texting him..."

You screwed the lipstick shut and stood up, whipping around to interrupt her.

"I'm sorry, what? I never forced him to do anything. He and I actually started communicating less once you two got together. You know, I knew you were insecure but I didn't think it was this bad."

"Well you've still been trying to pry us apart, even after your little friendship hiatus."

"Honey, I'm the reason he even asked you to make it official. He was too scared of committing, but I told him to pull the trigger and make you his girlfriend. Now I get that you have family trauma and the whole thing with your parents but-"

When she cut you off you knew you'd made a mistake. She wasn't supposed to know what all Tom had told you.

"You know what about me?"

You took in a sharp breath, unsure how to answer. An awkward pause fell between you.

"Everything. I know almost every damn thing about you. You were using Tom as a therapist and he took it to me. And I'm sorry about everything that's happened to you but I was almost glad when you forced me out of his life for a little bit because it meant I could finally deal with my own problems for once."

She continued to stare at you, stunned.

I- everything?" she breathed. You nodded, somber. "Why would he do that?"

"Dude. We were best friends for years. Told each other everything. Always went to each other to talk through the deep stuff. He didn't really know how to handle the stuff you were telling him. I wouldn't blame him for wanting to tell someone."

"But you know all this... stuff about me!"

"And those things aren't what shaped my opinion of you! Sure, it gave me some insight into your personality, but you can't let that stuff define you. You aren't going to get any real help dumping it all on your boyfriend, either."

"What are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I'm saying that him telling me everything shouldn't be the real problem here. The problem is that the whole relationship is toxic. Break up or don't, but you both need help. Tom isn't your therapist and if that's all you want him for then he shouldn't be your boyfriend. You both deserve better."

Each of you sat in that statement for a moment. After all of the frustration and anger, you'd chosen to channel it into something constructive.

Alaina had a look of defeat. You'd expected anger from her after everything.

"Yeah. Maybe we do. I just can't believe I couldn't trust him with the most important things in my life. Maybe I shouldn't have been trying to keep you apart all this time. I really should've been getting you together."

"What? No, Alaina don't say that-"

"Do you know where Tom is?"

"Come on don't do this right now-"

"Y/n just tell me where he is."

"I- You were the last one with him as far as I know. You came in here after I did."

In silence, she nodded and exited, leaving you alone again with a pit in your stomach.

You quickly tried to straighten yourself out, taking one last look in the mirror before you walked out and faked a smile.

"Oh! There you are! We're gonna get started on the rehearsal now!" Rebecca said as she caught you in the hall. "Just head outside and if you see Tom, tell him to come, too."

You did see him as you headed that way. His lips were pressed into a tight grimace as Alaina quietly talked to him near the building's entrance.

His eyes caught yours briefly and you gestured your head towards the alter, tapping your wrist. He gave a small nod of recognition and Alaina turned to see you in the distance, giving you a sad grin.

Tom started to tell her that he needed to go rehearse when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bye, Tom. Keep in mind what I told you," she said, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek before walking off to her car, leaving for good.

You could tell he trying not to seem sad as he followed not far behind you to join everyone else.

When Rebecca returned, she was excitedly telling everyone the plan for walking down the aisle, deciding to pair bridesmaids with groomsmen as there was an equal number.

The pit in your stomach grew when you realized that meant you and Tom would be paired together.

The pairs lined up, you and Tom having to be last. You knew it would take a while when the flower girls took forever to walk the aisle and the first male/female pair couldn't figure out their cue.

Your arm was looped in Tom's but you had never felt so apart from him. Both of you were stiff, trying not to move too much.

"Alaina dumped me," he finally whispered, leaning over to tell you, as your heels brought you close to his height.

Your head stayed forward as your gaze fell to the ground.

"I figured as much. I tried to talk her out of it but... you know."

"Yeah."

There was another heavy silence.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," you started, but he cut you off.

"Don't. We just need to focus on Becca and Haz," he bit back, stone-faced.

You wanted to say something more, but you were cut off by Rebecca telling you your cue and getting you to walk the aisle in sync.

You couldn't look at Tom the rest of the night and hardly touched your dinner as your thoughts ran wild of how to make things up to him.

You couldn't tell Rebecca what happened. This was her time to shine, and you figured if Tom were to tell Harrison anything, it would just be that they'd broken up.

A couple speeches were made about the happy couple and finally it was over, all of you nervously ready for the real ceremony tomorrow.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you made it out without talking to Tom again.

The next morning, things ramped up as the bridal party got ready while sipping mimosas. Everything felt frantic because you felt the need to supervise and take stress off the bride.

It didn't help that you were still stressing over Tom.

You went into the bathroom to catch your breath, trying to maintain a positive facade.

When you stepped out, you found Rebecca looking beautiful as ever in front of you, but you quickly recognized the look on her face.

"Lets go to the balcony real quick. I feel like we need to talk."

You followed her out, both of your robes flowing in a soft breeze as the sun shone down happily. She handed you another mimosa as she leaned over the railing.

"Harrison told me about Tom. Said it was a pretty big deal."

You groaned, trying not to facepalm over your freshly done makeup.

"Becca we shouldn't be talking about this right now. We need to focus on your wedding-" you started, reaching for the door handle.

"Y/n. I want to talk about this. And I hear you're supposed to listen to the bride on her wedding day," she chuckled. You rolled your eyes and smirked.

"Fine. Yeah, they broke up. And it's all my fault and Tom's probably pissed at me but whatever. It's fine."

"From what I hear he's not as mad as he probably should be. It's been a long time coming, you were just the catalyst. Just think how much longer it would've taken for them to pull their heads outta their asses without you."

"He's not mad?"

"Doesn't sound like it. I think you guys need to talk about it, though."

You sighed.

"We will, eventually. We both agreed yesterday that we just need to focus on you two right now."

"You know that's gonna be hard, right? I mean, you're both gonna be stuck together from pictures up until after the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't ruin your wedding. Can't speak for Tom, though," you joked, holding your glass up towards hers.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied, clinking her own glass against yours.

The bride and groom weren't ones for superstition, so you took wedding photos before the ceremony to maximize lighting and time with the guests later.

You didn't talk to Tom at all, but neither of you could keep from making quick eye contact between shots.

Finally the time had came for guests to begin arriving and the big moment to actually come.

After some last minute touch ups, the wedding party greeted guests as the countdown began. Once things were in place, you all went back into the building to line up, ready to start.

Again, you and Tom were linked together, waiting in bated breath.

"Alaina told me something yesterday before she left," Tom whispered.

You hummed in response.

"Yeah. Said I never really loved her."

"What makes her think that?" you asked, trying to pay attention to those ahead of you in line as music started playing outside.

"She told me I probably loved you," he replied casually.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him in shock. Again you wanted to reply but Tom tugged your arm and started stepping forward.

"Oh, looks like it's our time to shine."

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked down the aisle, seeing familiar faces as a blush rose to your cheeks before you both separated at the alter, leaving an empty spot between you and Harrison.

You pretty much forgot all of the nervousness when you watched your beautiful best friend come down the aisle with her dad. Harrison was tearing up and you were fighting back your own.

The ceremony began and throughout it, you and Tom continued to look past the couple and steal glances of each other.

When the vows finally came, you actually were crying, pulling a hidden tissue from your bouquet to dab your eyes as you watched with a watery grin. They had written their own vows.

You still couldn't help but watch Tom, though, as the two professed their love in front of everyone.

When they finished, the minister was given the rings and the most important part came.

"Now, Harrison, do you take Rebecca to be your wife? Will you love and cherish her for the rest of your days?"

The groom said I do, but you could only see Tom mouthing the same words to you.

When Rebecca was asked the same thing, you couldn't help but mouth the same words, too.

With that came a kiss and the declaration of marriage, with each couple again pairing off to run down the aisle.

You didn't have time to talk to Tom though, as you were whisked away with the bridal party to have a glass of celebratory wine before dinner as you waited to enter the reception.

That dinner again went on without a hitch, with both you and Tom making pre-written speeches about the couple before the first dance.

Once the DJ turned up the music, everyone was out on the dance floor having a good time when he slowed it down again for couples to dance to.

You were prepared to walk off when a hand caught your arm.

It was Tom.

"Dance with me," he beckoned, and you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You slow danced in silence, trying to figure out what to say as he twirled you around.

"So..." you started.

"Don't feel bad about Alaina," he immediately replied.

"But I'm the reason you broke up."

"No, I am. You were right that neither of us were handling things correctly. I should have never told you her personal business behind her back. I'm sorry for doing that to you, too."

You gave a lopsided grin.

"It's okay. I get why you did. I'm probably the best person you could've gone to anyways. I'm guessing you also apologized to her?"

"Yeah. I did last night but then I called her this morning and we talked it out. We should've broken up a long time ago. I wish I had listened to you back then."

You raised your brows.

"So you actually remember all the stuff I pointed out?"

"Just because I ignored it doesn't mean I didn't hear it. I was just too stupid and puppy-blind to see how much you actually cared."

You hummed as you wrapped both hands around his neck, stepping a little closer. He rubbed your back as he went to speak again.

"She was right, too. You are the one I really love. I meant it when I said 'I do.'"

"So I didn't just imagine that?"

"Just as much as I imagined you replying," he smirked. You smiled and bit your lip.

"I never wanted you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you the day you told me about her."

"It's probably for the best."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" You were confused at what he meant.

"Because now everyone we know can see firsthand that you're the one I love," he answered.

You were about to ask what that meant when he tipped up your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the song ended. When you pulled away people were moving around so that Rebecca could throw the bouquet.

"You know what?" she announced. "I think I just need to do this."

Everyone watched as she marched over and handed you the bouquet directly, causing cheers to ring out around you.

"Now you just gotta say I do!" she exclaimed.

You looked up at Tom and he smiled down at you.

"I did."

A/N: okay half of me hates this bc I can't imagine how obnoxious this would be if it happened in real life but also it's kinda 🥺

Lemme know how you feel! Wedding szn had me in my feels again this year so I couldn't resist. If you liked this I'd suggest checking out the objection because it's also got angsty wedding vibes oop

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@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

#just say I Do #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland story #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #harrison osterfield #tom holland x oc

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farfromsugafanfic · 3 years

Text

Sutures - Chapter One: Broken Hearts Club

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): alcohol consumption, sexual references, references to a one night stand, cursing, hospitals

Synopsis: "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." --Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

Series Masterlist | Next

Min Yoongi was done with relationships. It seemed they were always after money or fame, or they couldn't deal with his schedule and began to look elsewhere.

At first, he thought since Jihee was an idol, she wasn't after his money or fame. That she understood how the life left little time for a relationship. It was the first relationship he'd ever gone public with; his fans reacting surprisingly well. Dating another idol made it easier, she wasn't subject to more attention that she was not already used to.

But the one downside to dating an idol was that when they cheated on you, there was photographic evidence. He gave her the benefit of the doubt; it was probably a cousin or an old friend. However, then he came into her apartment earlier that night after dance practice. The true nature of the relationship was revealed.

"Yoongi!" Jihee called. "I'm sorry! I don't expect you to take me back. Just please, keep this quiet."

Her image mattered more to her than his heart. Just like everyone else.

---

Yoongi drank the rest of the glass, the burning in his throat he'd felt at the beginning of the night subsiding. The bar was one far away from the dorm, almost on the outskirts of the city. A place nobody would think to find him. It was busier than when he'd first come in, but still nothing like the bars and clubs downtown.

Music started up and he cringed as one of his own songs came through the speakers and reverberated off the walls. Min Yoongi couldn't escape himself even if he wanted to.

Nobody seemed to be eyeing him or trying to capture his attention by requesting the song. In fact, no one seemed to be paying any attention to him at all. A small solace.

Most of the other patrons danced. The majority offbeat and already off their face from soju or whatever their drug of choice. He noticed a girl sitting at the corner of the bar--she seemed uncomfortable--trying her best to pull down the short black dress she wore. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, ending just below her chest. She wasn't drinking anything, hooking her heels into the barstool, and watching the dancers.

Yoongi felt a small pull in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was from the heartbreak or from the way the black dress hugged her curves. Honestly, Yoongi didn't care.

"Another," Yoongi said, motioning to the bartender.

---

"Sumi!" your friend said, rushing over to the edge of the bar where you had perched. "Come dance! You're never going to get over him if you don't let yourself go."

"I don't want to get over him, Eunji," you said. "I want to get back together."

"No," Eunji said, her forehead wrinkling, a sign she was serious. "I'm not letting you get back together with that deadbeat. He was holding you back and you've taken him back too many times."

You sighed, unhooking your heels from the rung of the barstool. Your best friend had a point. You'd given Minki--your ex--hundreds of chances. The first time he cheated on you, you'd believed him when he said that it was a mistake and it would never happen again. And it didn't, for another year. The second time, you swore you'd never take him back. But a month later, you did.

"Come on, let's go show him what he's missing," Eunji said, grabbing hold of your hands.

"He's not here."

Eunji scoffed and pulled you up. You stepped out of your heels and stood on the ground with just the thin material of your tights between your skin and the sticky ground.

"You know what I mean! Now, come on!"

She pulled you onto the floor and to your surprise you actually enjoyed yourself. You'd forgotten what it was like to simply dance like no one was watching. You didn't care that your dress was slipping up again, or that you'd worn holes in your tights on the bottom of your feet.

Eventually, Eunji brought you a drink. You assumed it was water, but as you drank, the liquid burned your throat and you nearly spit it back out.

"Eunji!" you exclaimed after swallowing. "Vodka? Really?"

"It used to be your favorite," she said.

"Yeah, not when I'm expecting it to be water."

You laughed slightly, throwing it back.

"Water won't help you forget Minki."

"This is why my parents thought you were a bad influence, you know?"

Eunji laughed, ordering herself a drink.

"Yeah, well, I don't think their judgment was the best."

You laughed.

"Thanks," you said, squeezing your friend's hand. "I really needed this."

---

"You know what else you need?" your friend asked about twenty minutes later. Her words beginning to slur, her lipstick smearing. "A good f---."

You covered her mouth before she could finish the word. Your eyes were wide and you were sure you were blushing. You, too, were starting to feel a bit tipsy. But, unlike your friend, you got tired when you drank.

"I'm going to get another drink," you said, wanting to escape the smirk that had broken out across your friend's face.

You walked backward for a couple steps, despite the fact you weren't drunk yet, you stumbled and fell backward. You landed straight into the lap of a stranger, who luckily caught you, his arm around your back.

You felt yourself blush as his dark eyes made contact with yours. His white hair partially covered them, but you could still feel his glazed gaze boring into you.

"A drink?" he asked. "All you had to do was ask."

A smirk broke out across his face, not unlike Eunji who winked at you from a couple of barstools away.

---

Eunji (11:01 pm): I think he's an idol.

You looked across the bar at your friend who had ordered some food to sober up.

You (11:01 pm): I don't think so. He doesn't seem like an idol.

Eunji (11:02 pm): Who else would dye their hair white?

You (11:03 pm): I don't know. Does it matter?

Eunji (11:04 pm): Only if you care that you're about to hook up with an idol.

You rolled your eyes and turned your phone to silent.

---

You stifled a moan as he kissed your neck and you fiddled with your keys, trying to unlock your front door. You eventually managed to turn the key into the lock and the two of you practically fell inside your apartment.

"What about Eunji?" you asked, as he closed the door and pushed you against it.

"The bartender's going to take her home," he answered. "Don't worry."

He kissed your lips this time, effectively shutting you up and smearing your lipstick on his own lips. His hands roamed up and down the fabric of your dress. But, he was patient, he didn't just rip the fabric off you like Minki would've.

"Only tonight," you said, your voice breathy.

"Only tonight," he repeated.

The promise you'd made each other before you'd left the bar. Neither of you wanted a relationship, rather proof that you could still be loved.

His lips roamed back down to your neck, it seemed to be his favorite spot. Somehow you managed to collapse onto the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist. You dug your heels into his hips and laughed.

"What?" he asked, smirking against your collarbone.

"I forgot my shoes at the bar."

He pulled his lips away from your skin. His hand reached up and moved your hair off your shoulders and out of your face.

"Good, means I won't have to take them off."

---

Yoongi woke up the next morning. He glanced over at your sleeping form. He smiled and reached to move the hair from your face, but his fingers stopped midway, remembering the promise you'd made each other the night before. Only tonight.

He got up and collected his clothes. His phone was still in the pocket of his jeans, nearly dead. He slipped on his jeans and glanced down at his phone.

"Shit," he mumbled, seeing the multiple text messages from his band members asking where he was and telling him he was late for practice. He shot a quick text to Namjoon explaining that he was on his way.

Yoongi quietly walked out of the bedroom and closed the front door, trying not to wake you up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black mask that he kept on him in case he needed to walk in public without too much notice.

He slipped into the crowd. He placed his hands in his pockets and looked around, hoping to eventually catch a taxi. But, just in case someone had followed him, he wanted to get as far from your apartment as possible before he hailed a taxi.

The heartbreak from the day before seemed to have dulled inside him. It was still there--it probably always would be--but it wasn't ruling his thoughts anymore. He smiled as he thought back to the night before, seeing you dance so well, even though you had been reluctant to. When he'd originally spotted you across the bar, he decided to ignore you, but when you landed in his lap; a little tipsy, your hair just the right amount of messy, and your bare feet swinging just above the ground, he couldn't resist you.

With each block, Yoongi felt an odd sensation in his chest. It wasn't heartbreak, it was something else. Something he couldn't describe and something he'd never felt before. It didn't hurt at first, but after a couple more blocks, he stopped, clutching at his chest.

He breathed heavily, his thoughts racing, trying to find some sort of explanation. He managed a few more labored steps before collapsing on the sidewalk.

---

Yoongi opened his eyes. He looked down at the IV in his arm and glanced over at Taehyung who sat beside his hospital bed.

"Yoongi! You're awake!" the boy said.

Taehyung immediately stood up and yelled out into the hallway. Yoongi could hear the rushing of his band members as they barreled down the hallway towards his room.

"What happened?" Yoongi asked, as soon as they were in the room. "I just remember walking and then my chest hurt."

"You collapsed," Namjoon said. "They brought you here in an ambulance. The doctor told us it wasn't a heart attack, but said he didn't want to explain anything until you were awake."

The boys fell silent as the doctor and Bang PD walked into the room. BTS scrambled to the far side of the room, allowing the doctor to examine Yoongi.

"It would appear," the doctor started. "You are very lucky man. Not many people find their soulmate in this world."

"What?" Yoongi and the members said at once.

"When someone meets their soulmate, choosing to leave them behind can be deadly for both parties. The only reason you aren't experiencing pain right now is because you don't have a choice in where you are."

"Wait, so how am I supposed to live my life then?" Yoongi asked.

"It's complicated," the doctor answered. "There shouldn't be a reaction for anything work-related for either of you. However, you will have to remain in close proximity to each other in your free time. That's not to say you will have to spend every waking moment together, but..."

"We need to know who this girl is, Yoongi," Bang PD continued. "If you want your career and your life to continue, we have to find her."

---

"So, you're saying the guy I met last night? He's my soulmate?" you asked, once the doctor had explained everything.

"Most likely," the doctor said. "It is extremely important we find out for sure, though. It is a matter of life and death."

You took a deep breath, allowing the weight of everything to fall on your shoulders. It was supposed to be a one night stand. Only tonight.

You weren't supposed to discover your supposed soulmate. What would that even mean? You hardly knew the guy! How did your body somehow know he was the one?

Eunji was sitting in the corner. You could tell she still had a headache from the night before, but when you'd called her in a panic, she'd still managed to rush over to your apartment and find you passed out, eggs black and burnt on the stove.

"I don't even know his name," you said, looking down. "I--I don't know how we'll find him."

"Well," the doctor said. "There's only one other person in the city who has been admitted for finding their soulmate today..." The doctor trailed off and pointed up at the TV where a news report was talking about how a famous idol had met his soulmate, but that they needed to find her.

Eunji looked at you, her eyes wide, the news sobering her up immediately. She reached out for your hand.

"Fuck," she said, "you're Min Yoongi's soulmate."

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions - 7/12

Characters: Y/N, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Marcus (OC).

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have… and now he regrets his reaction…

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy…

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: So this is a slightly longer part, of course, there is more angst and insecurities in this one, it’s not coming up to the surface just yet but this pair might, just might be stepping in the right direction...

Catch up with the series here: Misconceptions Series List

Return to Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Previously: Marcus’ cheeks dusted a light pink and Y/N was glad she hadn’t lost her touch. Maybe that only applied to the Super Soldier. Her charm and flirting seemed to have caught Marcus’ attention, so maybe it wasn’t her after all. He punched in the number and called his phone, the little chime from his pocket confirming it had gone through. Handing it back to Y/N just as Sam jogged over to them.

“Are you ready to get your ass whooped, Y/N?” he chuckled, giving her a toothy grin.

Y/N tilted her head with a mischievous pout, “Oh boy, someone’s had their cocky pills today.”

Y/N did a last-minute touch up on her deep red lipstick, catching a slight smear in the corner with the tips of her fingers. With a blend and pout, she laughed at her reflection and tousled her hair to give it less of a rigid look. She hadn’t been this excited about going out with a guy in a long time; he was attractive, had a similar sense of humour and she didn’t have to pretend to be someone else.

Dating while also being a spy was tough, especially when it came down to disappearing without a trace for weeks on end. After a few years and a certain Super Soldier came into her life, she gave up on dating. She focused on one-night stands, or a short fling with no potential to quiet the thoughts of her and Bucky Barnes ever being more than friends.

And tonight, was not going to be any different, except this had potential, it could lead to something more. She shook her head and rolled her eyes - she was getting ahead of herself -grabbing the leather jacket off the hook.

Walking to the full-length mirror, Y/N fastened the belt looped through the black skinny jeans, pulling the blouse slightly out of its tucked state. Once her jacket was on, she grabbed her small handbag, checking its contents and exhaling a deep breath.

She strutted through the hallway and into the elevator, hitting the button to take her to the basement. The doors chimed, and she walked out into the underground parking lot to find Marcus leaning against a black Audi R8. A sweet smile bloomed across his face and he opened the car door for her. The heels of her boots clicked on the concrete, and with a reciprocating smile, she eased into the passenger seat.

Sam lounged on the couch, one arm resting along the back of the seat. His attention was captivated by the film playing on the large screen until he was interrupted by the second most irritating person on the planet, second to Spider-Man.

“What do you want Tin Man?” His head rolled to the side.

Bucky had been pacing up and down the corridor, and after a few minutes, it had grated on Sam’s last nerve. He tapped the remote, the movie paused. The super soldier charged into the room and sat on the footstool, blocking the view of the television. Sam glared at him; cheeks dusted pink, his bottom lip chewed raw, eyes skittish.

His eyebrows pulled together and he leant forward, “What’s up Bucky?”

“Have you seen Y/N? She’s not in her apartment. She’s not answering my texts. Or calls.”

“She’s on a date with Marcus.” Sam picked up the remote and shuffled back to get comfortable again.

“She doesn’t hang-” Bucky’s eyes widened, “She’s on a what?”

“A date man, you know those things that people do when they find someone they’re attracted to. They go out for drinks or dinner, maybe even just meet up for sex. You never know with Y/N.” Sam chuckled and played the movie again.

“But aren’t you dating her?”

Sam screwed up his face in disgust, “What the hell man? No, that’s gross! That’s almost incestuous.”

Bucky felt like his head and heart were going to explode. Y/N wasn’t dating Sam. Sam wasn’t dating Y/N. Y/N was on a date with Marcus. Who the fuck was Marcus? Bucky cursed himself and collapsed onto the seat beside Sam, a hand dragging down his face. I’m such an idiot.

Sam flicked off the television, “What made you think that?”

“The night Y/N was taken, hostage. Well, I kinda overheard your conversation on the phone. There’s no kinda about it. I heard you two talking and I may or may not have got jealous which resulted in me overreacting.”

Sam’s brow furrowed once more, “What exactly did you overhear?”

“Well, she wished you were there, that you were driving her crazy and that she loved you.” Bucky gruffed, “Then I saw the picture you have of her on your phone. And then you were all protective and wouldn’t let me see her.”

Sam sat up straighter and turned to him. “You’re both a pair of idiots. She wished I was there because she gets too wrapped up in you. She would do anything for you, and you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

Bucky’s mouth gaped and he stuttered just as Sam raised his hand, a stern looks on his face.

“She was telling me what she’d say to you. If you had given her the chance to tell you how she felt. Damn, she drives me crazy, talking about how crazy you drive her.” Sam shook his head, “We do love each other, like family. That’s why I didn’t let you see her straightaway. Not only was she held hostage, but you also dangled that woman in front of her, brought her back to the suite and showed Y/N that you didn’t care about the mission or her safety in the slightest.”

Bucky huffed, “I wasn’t dangling anything, I was trying to get my mind off Y/N and you two being more than friends. I didn’t do it to be an asshole, Sam.”

Sam glared at him, “Well you ended up being one anyway. Maybe next time, you should both talk to one another. Because I am not having this conversation with you both again and her crying to me or coming up with excuses to avoid you. You’re supposed to be adults, act like it and use your damn words.”

Bucky spoke to himself, “So I should tell her how I feel?” He leapt up from the sofa, “Thanks, Sam.” His appreciation echoed down the corridor as he raced back to his room, a plan forming in his mind’s eye.

Y/N hiccupped around the rim of her wine glass before she held it out with a harder wave than she intended, the liquid sloshing around “And that was the day that I realised I loved James fuckin’ Buchanan Barnes. So, now it’s your turn. Tell me about your crush.”

Marcus chuckled, knocking back the dregs in the bottom of the pint glass. “It’s this girl I’ve known since college. I don’t know if she’s interested though.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a sad pout on her face, “Aww Marcus. Why aren’t you out there- y’know, courting her? Have you seen yourself? What is there not to like!”

“I dunno, but I could say the same about you.” Marcus raised his eyebrow, pointing at her with the empty glass. “Another?”

Y/N nodded, a huge grin on her face as she watched Marcus head back over to the bar. She sank down into the booth and giggled to herself. She clamped her hand over her mouth. Only I could go on a date with a guy that fancies someone else. A glass of wine appeared in front of her and Marcus slid back into the seat opposite.

Marcus’ face suddenly lit up. “This might be a little crazy, but do you wanna go dancing?”

“Yes!” Y/N fist bumped the air, “we can try that club Marquee, I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Bucky had almost worn away the carpet in his apartment with his pacing, waiting for Y/N to return home from her date. He was hoping to catch her before she went to sleep but as the clock ticked by, negative thoughts began to niggle at the back of his mind. What if she likes him? What if she kisses him? No, she wouldn’t do that. But then again, she might go back to his place?

A deep sigh filled the space, and with eyes closed, he tried to clear his mind. It’s just nerves right? As he inhaled for a few seconds, he heard the familiar sound of Y/N’s footsteps padding down the hallway outside. In a flash, he’d opened his door and tentatively stepped out to find her swaying from side to side, attempting to open her own door.

As he approached, he spotted the jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders. That’s not hers. Then she flashed him that bright smile, he spotted the way her lipstick was nearly non-existent, her hair wilder than ever. His heart dropped to his stomach at the thought of Y/N with another man, he’d never worried before until now.

“Heeeey Barnes.” Y/N whisper shouted as he came closer.

His heart thumped against his chest; the sweet smile she threw his way made him grin back.

“Need a hand?” Bucky gestured to the door, obliging with her little nod.

She stumbled through the door, kicking off her boots at the same time. For a moment, she paused, relishing in the plushness of the carpet underneath her feet, “Well are you coming in or are you just gonna stand there?”

Bucky followed Y/N into the room, his plan now completely out the window. “You okay doll?”

She shrugged out of the jacket, “Yeah, just happy! And maybe a little bit drunk.”

Without hesitation, Y/N lifted her blouse over her head. Her breasts, held in white lace, were on full display. Bucky’s eyes didn’t explore her bare skin but spun around to face the other way. His heart thumped in his chest. What the hell is she doing? His thoughts were cut off by a huff and whine.

“Buck, help.”

He turned around to see the blouse half off her body, one arm out, face covered by the material, “What on earth-?”

“One of the buttons is caught in my hair.” Her free hand dropping to her side with a slap.

Bucky knew she’d rolled her eyes; he didn’t need to see her face to know that. He guided her to the edge of the couch. Encouraged her to sit down and sat beside her, he began untangling the strands that had gotten caught. Bucky breathed in the sweet scent of Y/N’s perfume; he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. He was intoxicated by her.

“Are we friends Buck?” Y/N whispered. He wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have the serum pumping through his veins.

“Of course, we are.” Bucky untangled the last piece and lifted the blouse.

Y/N turned to face him. “So why don’t you want to spend time with me anymore?”

“We spend nearly every day together,” Bucky’s stomach dropped, his loss of control in this situation gnawed at his esteem.

Y/N climbed out of the seat and marched into the bathroom. Bucky sat on the couch frozen for a moment then wandered over to Y/N’s drawers, picking out her pyjamas. With a light tap on the door, she opened it and collected the items without a word. He knew she wasn’t happy, that he had made things worse and he didn’t know how to fix them.

Y/N stared into the mirror, her make up now washed away and her hair thrown messily into a hairband. In the time it had taken Bucky to untangle her hair and for her to put her bed clothes on, she’d sobered up and her mind raced with embarrassment. Come on Y/N, you can do this. It’s only Bucky, talk to him. She pulled her shoulders back, standing tall and confident then marched out the room, turning off the light to find him perched at the end of her bed.

Bucky looked up immediately, “So are you going to tell me how your date went?”

Her head tilted to the side, a slight frown at the hint of malice in his words and joined him on the bed. “It was a good night; it was what I needed.”

She caught the ragged inhale beside her, the slight clench to his fist as his arm whirred to life. Is he jealous? No way, he’s not interested in me like that but, just maybe. Y/N shook away her thoughts and turned to face him, her leg tucked beneath the other, her knee brushing against his thigh. Her heart hammered but she remained as calm as she could as she felt the warmth radiating from him.

“We got drunk and danced the night away.” She waited for him to turn around, but there was no reaction, his eyes remained on his fingers woven together.

Bucky stood up; his jaw clenched. “And then you went back to his?”

Y/N’s stomach dropped at the animosity in his words. “So, what if I did?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else! Laughing like we used to, hanging out every weekend. And being each other's person. You’re my person.” Bucky raise his voice, his chest heaving with anger.

“Well we haven’t exactly been talking a lot lately.” She stood in front of him, arms crossed.

Bucky’s voice was softer, “That’s because I thought-”

Y/N held up her hand to interrupt him, “You know what? I’ve had a really good night. I do not want to ruin it by fighting with you, so can we stop?”

Bucky rubbed the nape of his neck, eyes locked on hers and wondering whether to push the conversation further or not.

Y/N didn’t give him a chance to decide, “Actually, I’m asking you to leave.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped, “What? Can’t we talk about this?”

Y/N couldn’t face him, she still had alcohol in her system and the memories of Bucky sweet talking that woman into bed that night rushed to the forefront of her mind, the tears she had cried afterwards and the vow she made not to cry over him again.

She shook her head and shoved at his chest, though she knew he wouldn’t budge until he moved on his own volition. The anger boiled in her veins. How dare he?! He had no claim over me. She pulled back, stepping away from him.

“Leave, right now! You have no right to be like this.” She gestured up and down, “You don’t get to act like this because someone is interested in me.”

Y/N refused to confess how the date had really gone, his reaction was enough to cement the idea that Bucky thought nothing more of her than someone he could use to make himself feel better. There wasn’t even friendship there anymore.

Bucky sighed, dragging his hand down his face, “It’s not like that. Y/N, I’m-”

“Save it. For the last time, get out.” She didn’t even look up at him as she walked over to the door and opened it

Bucky followed her request, guilt washing over him at the anger and hurt on her face. He turned around to attempt at another apology but was greeted with the door shutting in his face.

Continue Here...

Everything Taglist: @reann-loves-sebstan

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#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fic Series #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Angst

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 32

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 32

The stage was lit up with twinkling silver and blue lights. A black-haired girl with bangs was surrounded on the raised stage, her delicate chin nodding to the beat, matching the drumbeat as a new song began. The men and women on the dance floor were cheering and screaming loudly. Coupled with the sound of the glasses shaking like dice on the table beside him, the noises hit Lin Yan's temple like a chisel and pierced straight through his skull. Lin Yan downed the rest of his whiskey. He sank into the sofa, crossing his arms and legs, staring blankly at the stage.

There was a whistle from the crowd. Several boys pushed Weiwei onto the stage. She tried to wave her hands in protest, embarrassed. When she found that there was no getting out of it, she just laughed and followed the black-haired girl's dance steps. She danced even better than the other girl. Her overalls and beret were tidy and sophisticated. She moved like a queen dressed in casual clothes, and each of her confident expressions looked vibrant.

There was a wave of cheers. Not only were the guests who came to celebrate Weiwei's birthday cheering, but even the rest of the bar patrons stopped to cheer for her. Lin Yan gave a depressed smile. This scene was so familiar to him. This time last year, they were having a passionately entertaining and wild time. Back then, he lost the game and was punished to rush onto the stage to take off his shirt. He kissed Weiwei with his shirt off, earning the envy of the audience amidst the roaring cheers that almost blew the roof of the bar.

Lin Yan cast his gaze to the ceiling. The small bright blue spotlights were magnified into a blurred mess. His drunken state dulled his senses, but he was still very much aware. An empty space of air isolated him from the joy and noise of the crowd. He drowned his sorrows in the dark corner alone, isolated and miserable. There wasn't a lonelier feeling than witnessing the happiness of others. Lin Yan filled his glass with more alcohol. The half-melted ice clinked against the side of the glass. The whiskey dried out his throat, his face burned. . .

A chill covered his hand. Lin Yan shrugged him off. He kept silently muttering: leave me alone, leave me alone.

I'm really pissed off.

My life shouldn’t be like this. Xiao Yu, do you think that this is the day I'm supposed to be living? I'm tired of being on edge every day for something I can't even see, not knowing whether I'll live or die. Every day I’m locked in my apartment learning fucking Maoshan techniques. Why me? Why did you pick me?

"Lin Yan!" Weiwei waved at him vigorously from the stage. Her cheeks, damp with sweat, glowed. She was like a butterfly fluttering in glimmering gold glitter, "Come here. Dance with me."

Lin Yan held the table and tried to stand up, but his legs were too weak to listen to him. He shook and flopped down again. He lay across the table, feebly waving his hand at Weiwei

The queen gracefully leaped off the raised stage. She moved through the crowd on the dance floor and walked towards him. Her thin figure and loose overalls looked beautiful, and she impatiently pushed away the men that tried to come up and talk to her. Weiwei pulled up a chair across from Lin Yan and sat down. She fanned her face with her hand: "It's boring to drink alone. Give me a cup and I'll join you."

"Here." Lin Yan slammed his cup on the table. He picked up the whiskey bottle and slid it towards Weiwei. Before she could respond, he took a big swig of his own drink, the spicy liquid pouring into his stomach. "I haven't wished you a happy birthday yet. Cheers."

He felt himself laugh. even though he felt like crying. Through his drunken gaze, Weiwei's champagne-coloured image was dangling in front of his field of vision in a hazy glare, familiar and untouchable, like in the good old days that were never coming back. Just get absolutely wasted. He didn't have to think about this stuff if he was blackout drunk. Lin Yan unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, tilted his head onto the back of the sofa, and took another sip.

"What's wrong? Happy-Go-Lucky Comrade Lin Yan drinking booze? Unheard of." Her long slim hand unscrewed a bottle of black tea, a string of silver bracelets clinked as her wrist shook. Weiwei handed the drink to Lin Yan: "Water it down a bit. You'll end up puking later. We're all celebrating my birthday. You got yourself drunk. I'll take it as a sign that you still haven't moved on from me. I might have to take a few measures."

Lin Yan hummed. He turned towards Weiwei, his warm breath mixed with the stench of alcohol hitting her face: "What kind of measures? Like giving me your body?"

Xiao Yu sat off to the side, his icy gaze piercing Lin Yan's heart like a thorn. He avoided Xiao Yu's eyes. Under the influence of alcohol, everything he had been through recently was fighting to come out. He suppressed his thoughts and pushed them down, but he wanted to cover his ears and scream his mind at the top of his lungs. But he couldn't say anything. No one would believe him. The only thing he could do was open his eyes and try to find a way out of the lonely darkness. Lin Yan irritably tugged on his collar. He took Weiwei's wrist and pulled her against the back of the sofa, leaning forward to face her gold-dusted eyes. Why not? Why shouldn't he do this? This was the life he deserved!

Weiwei froze. She struggled to free herself from Lin Yan's grip: "You've had too much to drink. Give me your keys. I'll take you home."

Another wave of dizziness washed over him and the ceiling spun in circles. Lin Yan couldn't help but bend over and dry heave a few times. His stomach flipped. He staggered, supporting himself on the table, and moved towards the bathroom. He couldn't support himself but, before he could fall, two hands wrapped around his waist to catch him. Lin Yan turned his head, confused, and bumped into Weiwei. It was just like old times - nothing had changed. The only thing that had changed was him. He had been dragged into the darkest corner of the abyss by invisible forces, endlessly falling, unable to find anyone who could save him.

It was a warm and soft embrace, with the unique scent of a woman's perfume. It was completely unlike the one he was used to; the chilly aura, cold and untouchable, his slender fingers, his thin waist. . . The secret and sinful fantasy he was imagining made Lin Yan shudder and burn with shame.

"Stay away from me." Lin Yan panted heavily. He covered his mouth to keep himself from vomiting: "I'm a fucking walking plague. Anyone who touches me is cursed."

He dropped like a sack into the back seat of his car when Weiwei drove him home. Even the cold wind that kept pouring into the car couldn't keep him conscious. He couldn't remember how Weiwei's slender body managed to help him into the elevator. In the darkness, he instinctively grabbed onto the person next to him. He could smell her sweet orange-scented lipstick. Her shoulders were too narrow to lean on. . .

The hem of a red dress flashed around the corner of the stairs and a silver bell-like giggle sounded from the depths of the corridor. Lin Yan's heart sank.

This desolate corridor led straight to hell.

Lin Yan struggled to pull out his keys. When Weiwei's arms wrapped around him from behind, he bit his lip and roughly pushed her away. "This isn't what I meant." Lin Yan frustratingly pulled at his hair: "You need to go. Don't stay here."

"Let's start over." Weiwei played with the shiny silver bracelets on her wrist. "I'm not seeing anyone either."

"I'm with someone already. I'm getting married." Lin Yan gritted his teeth, a chill shooting down his spine: "Hurry up and leave! Are you listening to me?"

"You still don't want me. You always tease me and never want me." Weiwei's eyes grew desperate. "What's wrong with me? What is so wrong with me that you constantly have to tease me like this?"

"Go. You need to leave now." Lin Yan's gaze moved behind Weiwei's shoulders and focused on the tall dark shadow behind her. His cold face was overwhelmingly volatile. He saw Xiao Yu's hands and protruding knuckles wrap around Weiwei's throat, commanding, domineering, and selfish eyes staring back at him. Lin Yan shook his head. He staggered into his living room and slammed the door in her face.

I just want to go back to my old life. What's so wrong with that?

Xiao Yu coldly looked down at his embarrassing state, his frigid body lingering in the darkness like an endless nightmare.

I can't do this anymore. I can't live in this hell anymore.

Lin Yan knelt on the floor, his head leaning on the sofa, sobbing like a child. Why do you have to take everything away from me? I would give anything to go back to the life I had before. No more ghosts, no more curses, no threat of imminent death. I want to be able to go to my parents’ house for dinner with my fiancée and watch boring news broadcasts every night. Will you let me have that again? Will you let me go?

The violent dizziness made it impossible for him to stand back up. Cold hands hugged his torso, wrapping around his waist, and pulled him down onto the sofa. Lin Yan helplessly held his head in his hands. Now I can't even get a fucking hard-on when I'm with her anymore. Xiao Yu, you bastard. You owe me the life I deserve!

Icy lips covered his. He nipped at Lin Yan's tongue, sucking up the blood that oozed from the bite. The possessive kiss took Lin Yan's breath away, his face flushed red. Xiao Yu suddenly let go of him. He clutched his shoulder and said: "Lin Yan, don't mess with me."

"Who the fuck is messing with you? Who's the one provoking who here?" Lin Yan stared at him with red-rimmed eyes and whimpered: "Aren't you the one who wants to follow me? Why shouldn't I do that? There's nothing that can happen between us. I wouldn't be able to tell my parents about us. I wouldn't be able to tell my friends anything. I'll be a bachelor for the rest of my life in everyone else's eyes. Xiao Yu, you’re dead. You’re a ghost. Why are you forcing me to do this? You took everything from me. I don’t want to like men. I don't want to be gay. I don't want to be treated like a fucking psycho that talks to the air!"

Lin Yan fell onto Xiao Yu's shoulders and cried, cursing. He had never been so wronged or humiliated like this before. However, Xiao Yu just sat silently, his expression chillingly frightening.

After a while, he pushed Lin Yan away and strode towards the bedroom. When he came out, his arms were filled with a bunch of things. Upon closer inspection, they were all things left by Weiwei when they broke up. Lin Yan had wanted to keep them as a memento. He didn't want to throw them away.

"What are you doing!?" Lin Yan's voice trembled.

In the next second, he understood. Lin Yan curled up on the sofa, watching Xiao Yu throw everything Weiwei-related he had in the apartment in front of him. Pyjamas, slippers, the box with an engagement ring inside, the bag he hadn't gotten rid of yet, a teddy bear, matching couples mugs, photos; everything was destroyed one by one in front of him. Ceramic cups were smashed into pieces on the ground, pieces of fabric falling like bits of snow. The whole room was a disaster.

"Stop it, this is my home!"

The sound of torn cloth tore through his head like the sound of a chainsaw.

"That's enough. . ." Lin Yan said with a low, dishevelled voice.

The destruction didn't stop there. Her toothbrush was snapped and thrown on the ground, nail polish was spilt everywhere, her umbrella was slashed into threads. The ghost carried on like no one else was in the room. Soon the living room floor was covered in debris. Chairs piled with all the items tumbled to the floor.

Xiao Yu yanked off all the buttons on a long skirt and then tore it in half with a sneer. It fluttered to the ground, covering the ripped-up teddy bear on the ground.

The last thing Xiao Yu picked up was a velvet jewelry box holding the engagement ring he bought for Weiwei. Xiao Yu took out the sparkling little stone and snapped it off, forcing it into Lin Yan's chest. The deformed ring bounced into the gap between the sofa cushions, disappearing for good.

"Lunatic! You're insane!" Lin Yan had a splitting headache. He covered his face and looking at the room full of debris. A photo of him and Weiwei was on the ground, torn down the middle, and Weiwei's face had been scratched into a deep black hole. He trembled with anger and incoherently screamed at Xiao Yu: "You. . .you're such a jealous man! Have you finished venting yet? Get the hell out! This is my home!"

Xiao Yu raised his chin and coldly said: "No."

"What the fuck do you want. . ."

Before Lin Yan had finished speaking, Xiao Yu was already fiercely kissing him.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (3/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

-----

When darkness creeps into the sky, you can see the shadows of a dwindling day inching into the room.

You sit hunched at your desk, a pen in hand and a notebook open before you.

Typed notes with yesterday’s date sit neatly in a pile, courtesy of your teachers. You had finished all the assignments that were given today, so the rest of the evening was yours-- and yet, you couldn’t seem to make anything of it, like always.

A laptop lay haphazardly on the bed as if thrown there. Papers and sheets littered the floor, a mixture of both typed notes and haphazard writing progressing into black and white scrawl.

You tightened your hold on the pen until your knuckles were paler than the paper. The other hand tapped impatiently on the table, waiting for something while staving off something else.

A mess, and you couldn’t fix it. You couldn’t get the wheel turning and you’ve been fighting it all night, but you have to think back on it again.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

It was like a curse. When you swallow, it feels like you’re choking.

“Ah, crap. Seriously?” You chuckle lowly, but its stale and drops like deadweight in the air.

A hand threads into your hair and you pull at it a bit, as if that’d help relocate lingering thoughts find a way back into confinement, as if it’d pull things out of your head that mattered.

You drop the pen and fold your arms up, dropping your head to rest on the desk. You peer at the phone beside your head, and tap the screen.

It lights up your dim room, and in the split second it takes your eyes to adjust to the brightness, there’s a glimmer of hope. But there’s nothing on the screen. No texts, no reminders, alarms, or missed calls. Vastly empty, making room for vast longing.

The sunset was gone now, reduced to a few straying rays of light. You flip over the phone and turn to the window. You wonder how you’d seem to someone looking in. Would you seem lonely? Could they tell you hadn’t felt whole since then?

Thoughts running in a circle, you can almost hear it again.

The beeping of a heart monitor. The clicking of shoes on white tile. Feigned hope and lies draped in white coats, hushed whispers, as if it didn’t matter that you knew the truth too.

Their words to you were no more than empty promises, false reassurances. They swam lazily, leisurely in your mind, giving you hope then snatching it away. The words live in your heart, reside there. Won’t let you forget.

His face plays in your mind, and you morbidly wonder what expression he made before the impact. Was he scared? Did he see it coming?

Eyes squeeze shut when you can feel the tears collecting again, pooling and forcing their way out in the sneaky way tears do.

Your hand clenches and unclenches, and you raise it and drop it again on the table, weakly, like the world’s shittiest attempt to muster anger.

“Why him?” You wonder, and hate the way your voice sounds fragile. “Why did it have to be him?”

The scent hits you again. Burning tire, sporadic blinking of a traffic sign, lights shooting through the night too much too late for you to do something. Anything.

“Haha, shit.”

The room is still. Nothing moves. An occasional car passes a ways from you, and the distant whirr of wheels on asphalt echoes through the nighttime air. It’s accompanied by a streak of headlights approaching, then fading into darkness.

It stays like this for a very long time, and you remain glued to the spot. The night is always stagnant. You always itch for something to distract you.

Your phone vibrates on the table. You tell yourself you won’t bother to check, but you do anyways. It’s just a reminder that your bill is due soon, but you barely have enough energy to be disappointed.

You eventually rise again, but the way your spine curves into your body, shoulders pulled close…

You see yourself in the mirror when you drag yourself to the bathroom and turn away in distaste. It’s no wonder Wolf hadn’t wanted to speak to you, it was almost like staring at a husk of a person. Disturbing and pathetic.

You knew you should probably stay away, or find some other way to feel better, but it was hard. Always was. And it was far easier to fall back into old habits, far more comfortable to keep making the same mistakes.

So you do.

You pull on the same heels, the same dress. Put on the same makeup, the same brand of lipstick.

The same routes, turns, and the same tinkering bell chime later, you are back in the same place you were a few days ago. It's just a dark shroud, heavy and suffocating, to hide in-- but you are back.

Comfortable, routine normalcy.

You slip into a stool by the bar. You liked this one, because you know the bartender thinks you’re cute and won’t card if you bat your eyelashes.

It was by chance you saw him a month ago, Wolf Keum, and you considered it the best stroke of luck in your life.

The luck seemed to stop short when you had one drink too many and ruined any chances of speaking to him. You supposed you deserved it, but it still stung more than you’d like.

You get whatever the fuck is the cheapest to start, but the bartender slides you a cosmopolitan anyways. You don’t complain because you know he probably won’t charge extra.

An hour passes but the hum of patrons never ceases. You love it here, you think. No one ever notices you, alone at the bar. There are too many stragglers to ever just pick one out.

Just like last time, there’s the clicking of utensils, the low murmur of conversation. It all fades to white noise in the background, and you’re relieved that your mind is slowing. Not completely, but almost pacified. Almost is always good enough.

Just when you think you’re smooth sailing, someone loudly pulls out a chair beside you. The grating sound of an old lopsided barstool dragging along unpolished tile is unpleasant, and the sharp noise reawakens sobriety.

You flex your wrists and send them a sour look, only to be taken aback when a familiar face takes a seat.

He doesn’t look at you but you know he’s just being sly.

You prop an elbow up onto the table and dip behind it, drink souring on your tongue, mirroring on your expression. What does he want, and what happened to his face? As if the mere glance you had taken hadn’t told you enough, you could see his hands on the counter out of the corner of your eye. Bandaged, lopsided gauze, and bruising all along the knuckles.

The bartender cards Wolf and he’s stiff about it. You don’t know if he’s irked you have a guest, or intimidated by his aura. You’re almost disappointed when Wolf pulls an ID out of his pocket. Of course he would have a fake.

He receives his drink promptly. But even when the bartender serves the other patrons, Wolf still doesn’t address you.

You wonder if he’s messing with you and give a small sigh. Your fingers find a lock of hair and twirl it absentmindedly, watching your face in the drink ripple, then vanish when you take a sip.

You squeeze your eyes shut and open your throat. It burns on the way down, when it settles in your stomach, and even when you stop drinking. You don’t really feel like staying any longer, but pride keeps you anchored to the stool.

And why should you leave? You were here first. You couldn’t be intimidated by petty tricks like this, not when you’ve seen worse from middle schoolers.

You turn your head away from him and look out the window. Wonder if it’s obvious you’re ignoring him. You can see his larger frame hunched over behind you, silhouetting yours easily. See him pick up his glass with his fingertips, downing the entire thing in one go. He throws back his head when he drinks, and you can see his adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Its rushed, and you wonder what’s got him worked up.

A car passes by outside, and the reflection is scattered. You turn back to your drink and swish the liquid, pretending to give a shit about the citrus peel inside. The motions feel strange with your left hand, but the right one is currently blockading you from Wolf.

He’s being awfully quiet, so you sneak a look at him.

His sharp gaze clashes with yours, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize you were caught red-handed.

You clear your throat and set your cup down with a clink, dropping your right arm. You want to dish out an attitude to repay him for yesterday, but all you can muster is another quiet sigh.

“…Is there something you wanted?”

Your eyebrows pull together in a weak attempt to seem concerned, and when you pull up the corners of your lips, it feels like a thousand pounds.

There are bandages on his jaw, his neck, his nose, his forehead. Scratches everywhere else.

You feel for him, but the cool façade he puts up doesn’t seem to be looking for pity.

It was true he looked destroyed, yet the fiery spirit in his eyes burned bright, like coals crackling orange then splitting yellow in the fireplace. If you peered in for too long, they beckoned to you, dangerous but tempting.

He moves to answer you, and you’re mesmerized by the way his lips barely move when he speaks. He must not need to be loud to demand attention, you think. His fists do the work for him, which is ironic because you don’t hear him, too busy with staring at his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The corner of his lip tugs up a bit. He leans in closer and you can smell the whiskey on his warm breath, hot and wet on your face.

“You look like shit.”

Your body goes rigid and your throat closes. You’re not sure if it’s an adverse reaction to what he said, or a survival mechanism to avoid saying dumb shit that would land you in a hospital. The spite shoots into your gut, and it twists in irritation. If it shows on your face, he doesn’t react to it. You’re not sure if he’s too drunk to give a fuck about manners, or if he’s just like this all the time.

You scoff and wrap your fingers around your glass, clenching.

“So do you.”

He gives you a bit of a look, and it feels like amber eyes are slicing into your body, cupping your soul. You want to tear your gaze away, but he looks enchanting under the glow of the bulbs, hanging low. Eyes are half lidded, and it doesn’t help that hes angled himself to peer at you through his lashes, longer than you could’ve imagined. The alcohol induces a pink flush across his cheeks that seems to match the odd expression on his face.

You know he’s not trying to seem seductive, since his body language is still closed off. But when his tongue darts out to catch a drop of whiskey on his lip, you force yourself to look back down at your hands.

“Hah, fuck you.”

You grit your teeth and try to keep a straight face.

Did he sit next to you just to pick a fight? Why wasn’t he with his group of assholes? Were they waiting to ambush you?

You look up at him again, lips set in a grimace. “…Where are your friends?”

Wolf yawns to let you know he’s bored with your questions and doesn’t bother to cover his mouth. You want to shove him off the barstool but hold back for your own sake.

“Meeting. I didn’t go because the boss is a prick.”

You pretend to understand, but you don’t and he knows it.

“The Union, heard of it?”

You dig through the recesses of your brain and think you recall hearing some of the students at school gossiping about the “shuttle hatch,” so you tell Wolf that. He exhales a bit through his nose, and his lip quirks up again. He seems amused by something, but you have no idea what.

“Right. Shuttle hatch.”

There’s a long silence that stretches between the both of you after this, and it puts you on edge.

A minute passes into ten, into thirty. He doesn’t say anything else, but even though he sits there with an empty glass and a stomach full of whiskey, he won’t leave.

You’re beginning to feel like he’s testing you- challenging you, even. So you leave a sip of cosmo in your cup as an excuse to stay. You raise it to your lips now and then, and it’s lukewarm.

“What happened to your face?”

Wolf is distracted, eyes closed, face red and swaying slightly to the faint music over the speakers. You don’t think he’s even conscious until he speaks up, eyes still closed, body still swaying.

“Donald Na.”

His answer only served to confuse you more, and it definitely didn’t help that he spoke to cryptically.

“…Alright.” You mutter, not even attempting to hide your cluelessness. All these names and talking of bosses and unions confused you. It reminded you of a noir book you tried and failed to write, for obvious reasons.

Wolf understands the hesitation in your voice, “He’s my boss. The prick.”

Your head turns to him. He looks stupid swaying in the light with all those bandages on his face, but it was the face of someone far bolder than you, far less reservations. Even begrudgingly, you had to respect him for his audacity.

“Your boss did this to you?” When you ask, you forget to filter the worry out of it. It’s just a smidgen, but no doubt Wolf catches onto it immediately.

He peeks an eye open to assess your reaction, but you’ve stored it back in your sleeve in anticipation of this. He scoffs and closes his eye again. “Yeah. Fucker.”

You tap a finger on the counter, listen to your nail go click click click.

Talking to Wolf was like playing a game, it was just as enthralling as it was frustrating. Talking to people hadn’t ever been this hard, even after everything happened. The lulls in the conversation, the lapses in his sentences- there was a rhythm to it, a puzzle that felt like it’d complete you, too. You weren’t not sure how to describe it, but it feels strange, novel. Like you were scaling a mountain with no foreseeable end, but you wanted to conquer it. Wanted to show him, the whole world, you were still someone.

You scoff in response. “I don’t blame him. I’d sock you in the mug too if I had the chance.”

He shoots you a curious glance, but there’s light in his eyes, adrenaline rushing through his heart. You can see it in the way he shifts a bit in his seat, uncrossing then recrossing his legs.

“You have the chance now.”

You shake your head at him and purse your lips. When you speak, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. “And give you the chance to throttle me after what happened last time? When hell freezes over.”

Wolf chuckles, it’s low, dark. Makes you nervous.

The hazel in his eyes is stirring now, like the tint of a cloud passing over splattered stars. When he smiles, he only uses half of his mouth to make a smirk, and it reminds you of the way a crescent moon curls, luminous, haunting, and almost sad.

“Are all girls this bitter after rejection?”

You entertain his dry joke with a dry laugh and clam up again. He doesn’t seem to care, but some tiny part of you wishes he did.

It was like playing with fire. Hot and destructive.

You both order another drink half an hour into the silence and finish it another half hour later. Now you’re just sitting here, both of you, seeping in the tension.

When your phone rings, it jolts you, not expecting the loud and obnoxious chime to be at maximum volume. The buzzing screen displays a name in big, bold letters:

ALEX GO

You look at the time above the name, 10:43PM. Your heart flutters once, twice.

Standing up from the bar, you push your drink with a sip left closer into the table.

“I’m going now,” you say to the air, in case Wolf isn’t listening. But he is.

When you glance at him, you just barely catch his eyes slipping from the phone in your hand to your blushing face.

There’s a wisp of something in the air, like smoke. Like jealousy. And then it’s gone.

He doesn’t respond and turns back around.

You feel almost disappointed, but promise yourself it doesn’t matter. But just before you head out, you hear Wolf speak again,

“Thanks.”

He pauses, like he’s pondering if he should explain why he’s thankful. Like he, himself, isn’t sure what he’s grateful for.

You understand him because you’ve felt it before too. You rest your hand on his slumped shoulders and give him a smile that you hope he can hear in your words.

“Get better soon, Wolf Keum.”

And again like last time, your heels click on mosaic tiles as you make your exit. The bell chimes, the door creaks, and hisses shut. The sound of the restaurant is drowned out by a peaceful silence. When you turn back to see if Wolf is watching, all you can see in the glass is your own gaze, peering back at you.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #WEAKHEROFANDOMUNITE #weak hero x reader #alex go #alex go x reader #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #daybreak

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lipsensereview · 3 years

Text

Best LipSense Review 2021

I earnestly love beauty care products, as huge quantities of you do also and endeavoring to stay current with plan and beauty care products designs is right up there with what catches my eye. I started getting some answers concerning Lipsense, another thing sold by MLM association, Senegence, that sells this long wearing lipstick and shimmer (and other greatness things like skincare and that is only the start) that is elevated to continue to go the whole day. I've a few things like that and remembering that they might last the whole day or close to it, do I genuinely require it to last the whole day? Once in a while yes and from time to time no. Persevering through the whole day lipstick isn't something I will wear every day anyway for a the whole roadtrip when I'm in a rush for huge timespans, I'll use it.

One of my perusers, Shana, informed me about assessing a part of the things, so I figured why not? I would essentially try it out and see how it worked for me, so I'm conferring that to you today and you can decide for yourself in the occasion that you'd like to endeavor it or not.

There are a huge load of tones to peruse and picking from a concealing chart on the web or seeing someone with a concealing on isn't the easiest strategy to pick what will work for you, anyway after I sent a pic of one of my #1 tones wrapped on my hand, she composed a couple of tones she thought would work for me. The main I endeavored was Honey Rose, the one in the middle up there. It's a genuinely exquisite sensitive and to some degree glimmering coral rose tone and I think it works honorably on me.

You can see there are heaps of tones to peruse and layering the tones causes them all to have all the earmarks of being remarkable too. I layered the 2 I have and I'll show you the results. There's moreover an Oops remover to get the concealing off if you submit a mistake, similarly as different sorts of sparkles to go on top.

Staggered publicizing associations like SeneGence (the brand behind LipSense and distinctive other make up and sound skin things) are something I endeavor to avoid no matter what. I've had a dreadful experience purchasing from one preceding and I overall like to have the chance to purchase something absolutely in isolation — no middle man.

Regardless, one of my particularly sweet, LipSense loving partners, sent me a starter unit and I promptly wound up completely trapped!

LipSense claims their lip colors wont move, last wherever between 4-18 hours and work to restore moistness to your lips. Maybe the most captivating of their cases is the ability to make your own lip concealing combo by layering various shades on top of each other. "Custom" sounds truly significant unions stuff if you somehow managed to ask me. In like manner, their glimmers ought to be the most flawlessly awesome, most hydrating, helpful for-you sparkles in the game!

Before my friend sent my starter unit, which joins a liquid lip shade of my choice, a sparkle and the Oops! Remover, she offered me some redid direction on picking a concealing, notwithstanding an obvious once-over on the most capable technique to apply this stuff, yet I'll get more into that in a second. Of the 36 unmistakable liquid lip tones.

Source - https://lipsensereviews.com/

I went with Pink Champagne, a magnificent, cool adapted pink.

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hbwbyniall · 4 years

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Number 18 or 27 🤗

A little piece inspired by last night’s disappointment aka the Brits 2020 :))

“Are you testing me?”

It’s almost six in the morning and Niall’s eyes are not fully opened. He yawns and rubs his eyes as he gives his brain a couple of minutes to restart itself. It was a good night. He wasn’t exactly planning on going to the Brits but things turn out not as bad as he feared. He spent the evening with Lewis and the rest of his friends he hasn’t seen in a long time, there were laughs and tons of alcohol involved even before they left the venue and got to the after-party.

He’s tired, drunk and with – exactly – twenty-three minutes of sleep. They were planning on keeping the drinks going in Niall’s place but things went south when Will ran to Niall’s restroom the second he stepped into his house and Lewis fell asleep on his couch five minutes after Niall opened a bottle of gin. So he stayed chatting with Aiden for a little longer until they lowly faded into sleep, only to be woken up minutes after by Niall’s cheek slapping into the floor thanks to the unstoppable sound of his own doorbell.

So he stumbled his way to the hallway and finally the door, wearing nothing but his briefs and the light blue shirt he was wearing in the award show.

He doesn’t recognize the voice at first, he doesn’t even know why did he just open the door without checking first but his head is starting to hurt already and his vision is blurrier than usual so it makes sense that he is not thinking clearly at the moment. It could be a paparazzi taking the best pictures he could have for the next morning Sun’s front page.

It doesn’t take him too long to recognize the man in front of him after he finally opens his eyes and gets used to the six a.m. light coming right at his face, soft but still enough for drunk man’s eyes to look down. The first thing he sees is bright yellow, loud and striking yellow thighs and he doesn’t have to look up to know who’s been destroying his doorbell.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” he finally says, running his fingers through his hair and trying to stand up straight and cross his arms to proof he is not affected by his senseless presence at his doorsteps but the facade falls immediately the second his eyes lay on Harry’s face.

He feels his shoulders give in and suddenly is aware of the fact that he’s only wearing one sock and the cold air is already messing up his bad knee but he doesn’t want to invite him in, he doesn’t want Harry looking like a train wreck with his hole night written all over his face in the inside of his house, so he rests the weight of his body on the door frame, making Harry stumbling back one step.

“You didn’t answer,” he establishes, pointing his unbalanced index finger on Niall’s chest hair and starting at it for a moment before he burps and looks up to his face. “Are you testing me?” he says again, barely getting the words out of his mouth. He is hammered.

Niall signs, he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with the hand that’s not holding the door that keeps Harry from looking inside his house, not that was much to see or Harry was capable of seeing anything further than a five feet distance if his watery eyes could say something.

“What do you mean?” Niall whispers stretching his neck to look behind Harry, trying to find his car or anyone that brought him to his house. “How did you even get here?”

“A black car drove me here,” Harry answers like it’s not big of a deal. “But that’s not the point!” he yells and Niall has to put his hand over his mouth to shut him up but Harry takes it and holds it with his two hands right over his chest. “With that Crapaldi guy,” he says and he doesn’t sound that drunk anymore. “Are you really fucking him?”

“For Christ’s sake!” He grabs Harry by his stupid yellow jacket and drags him into the house before he could wake up his neighbors if he hasn’t already.

But maybe it was a big mistake because he next thing he hears is an over the top kind of dramatic gasp and then Harry is running through the hallway, picking up Niall’s clothes, leading to his living room where the rest of the boys are sleeping and finally, Niall hears his name being yelled and he runs to catch up with him.

“Are you sleeping with all of them?” Harry says, dropping Niall’s trousers to Aiden’s face but the only reaction he gets from him is turning around to face the other side of the couch.

“Is that Big Bird?” they both turn to see Lewis’ face popping from somewhere in the cover Niall put over him only to say that before falling asleep again.

“Did he just-?!” Harry drops the shoes and the rest of the clothes but before he could start yelling again, Niall grabs his wrist and takes him to the kitchen.

They fall into an awkward silence when they get there and Niall turns on the coffee machine to make them both a cup. He lays his hands over the table, waiting, not wanting to turn around and see Harry like this. It hurts too much, it still hurts and that makes him so mad.

He expected Harry ignoring him all night, he knew that would happen so maybe he was a little bit bitter and slightly tipsy when he recorded those stupid videos with his friends and maybe that’s the reason Harry came but he never expected this. Yes, he wanted to draw his attention but he wasn’t sure if he would even see those ten-seconds stories in an app he doesn’t use or even follows him. So Harry knocking at his door with dirty pants and messy hair was at the bottom of the list of wild way that a night like that could end.

The coffee machine beeps loudly, shattering the tension and giving him goosebumps on his arms and shivers all over his spine. He makes to cups, one with three sugars for Harry and one with two for him and hands it over to him, looking at his pretty violet nails.

“You kissed him,” Harry whispers, blowing the steam that comes from his cup, his lips touching the edge, not drinking it yet, letting the smell of morning coffee entering his lungs.

“I didn’t kiss him,” Niall says taking one sip and regretting him the second the hot liquid touched his tongue.

“I’m not talking about tonight,” Harry avoids his eyes when Niall finally looks up. “I saw it in a video,” he drinks the coffee slowly and Niall wonders if his tongue is not getting burn of he’s just that good to suck it up. “A whole show, you were over the bar with that Mendes kid and-”

“You are one to talk…,” Niall cuts him off, leaving the coffee mug on the table he was leaning on before standing right in front of Harry, “… when you have your face full of lipstick.”

Harry frowns and takes his phone out of pocket to look at his reflection before blushing and rubbing his face with his jacket’s sleeve. Thousands of pounds’ suit looking like a kitchen rag.

“This is not-” he starts to explain, looking at his reflection again to check if the lipstick’s still on and finally turns to Niall when he’s satisfied with the look on his face.

“Save it, Harry,” Niall says crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know that if I pick up my phone right now I’ll know exactly what you were doing.” He takes his coffee mug and blows a couple of times before he drinks the coffee.

The time starts running but they don’t move. It could be so easy now to ask Harry to leave, to call him an uber or something and they would end this thing for real, they would finally patch up everything that has happened since they met and never talk to each other ever again, it’s not like it would be terrifically different at how things are right now. But he doesn’t, Niall doesn’t move a muscle for other than drinking the coffee and keeping himself from looking to Harry’s eyes because it would be game over for him.

“How did we come to this?” Harry asks in a whisper again. “Why do we keep hurting each other?”

Niall sighs, loudly. He knows the exact moment that started this stupid quarrel between the two of them, he also knows how does it end, with one of them in the other’s bed and keeping the score going up and down on who is the first to give in. Niall has lost more times than he could be proud to admit – or that he could count – but not today, not when he has Harry waiting for him to end this.

“We broke each other’s hearts and never address it,” Niall finishes his coffee and takes Harry’s mug the moment he finishes his and puts it on the dishwasher.

“We were never good at communication anyway,” Harry smiles, getting closer to Niall, his hand going right to hold his face but Niall steps back.

“Don’t,” he whispers, but Harry gets closer.

“It’s okay, I lose this round,” Harry says and Niall can hear the last bit of his heart cracking.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he says, fighting the tears running to his eyes with what his soft wasted brain can give him. “I’m out,” Niall tries to leave the kitchen but Harry holds him from behind, hugging him, covering his back with his chest and laying his hands on his hips to finally kiss that spot on Niall’s neck that he knows too well.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Harry whispers on his ear, biting and licking his lobe, making Niall feel all the wrong things in the right places. “If you still hate me by breakfast, I’ll go.”

And Harry is wrong, he didn’t lose. Niall does, he always loses when it comes to Harry because he knows he could never hate him, just like this very moment when he lets Harry grab his wrist and take him upstairs to his room as nothing ever happened.

He’s falling again.

#narry fic #narry fanfic #narry #my writing #my fic #prompts #narry prompt #narry brits 2020 #niall x harry #harry x niall

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themockingcrows · 3 years

Text

Champagne Catharsis

Sometimes you're a Seer, sometimes you're a God, but other times you're just a kid screaming obscenities at their dead mother for years of dealing with her alcoholism. Things aren't always so clear, even for a Seer of Light.

This fic is SFW. CW: alcoholism, rage Characters: Rose LaLonde, Mom LaLonde AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611582

Just a quick jaunt through the dream bubbles was the plan. See what one space had to offer before moving to the next if it bored her. A few hours of dalliance to pass the time. Rose had a lot of plans, a lot of thoughts to how she was going to bide her time, but they all fell through in an instant when she saw the familiar outline of her own un-tampered with home in the hazy rain of New York.

Had it really been that long? A few years at least since she’d seen it being destroyed, the woods ablaze like candles in the eternal feeling of darkness. Mud squelched beneath her pointe shoes and water slid down her hair like cascading trails of diamonds, making the blonde a few shades darker by the time she made it inside.

It looked true to her memory, but what was truly eerie was that it smelled the same. In all her times of jumping into the bubbles, she’d never once dreamt about her own home, instead choosing to visit far away places and friends, or people she’d never met in her life before coming back to her own thoughts and wakefulness like a whale coming from the depths. She brushed her fingers through her hair to shake it, hoping it would dry faster that way while she toured her old room. Rose took a step up the freestanding stairs before pausing and turning around, looking towards the decor of her home, places she’d flopped a thousand times to while away the hours with Jaspers. The wise yet judgemental stare of the grand wizard that dominated the living room met her purple eyes, and as the lightning flashed outside she had to tear her eyes away lest she recall the hundreds upon hundreds of thoughts that statue had brought to her mind over the years.

How many stories had there been, Rose? How many times had you lost yourself in fantasy to escape everything, before you lost everything for real? How much time did you waste taking things for granted before they were gone?

No. A stupid line of thought. Rose grit her teeth and stomped muddy footprints up the pristine stairs, annoyed with herself for falling down that line of thinking again. It wasn’t as if she had exactly known the world was going to end just from playing a game with her friends. It wasn’t like she knew her mother was going to be murdered. It wasn’t like she knew she’d wind up on a meteor traversing the fucking universe for three long years, where the darkness seemed to ebb into her thoughts more and more as the days went by unless she had a glass of good cheer on hand.

A glass of cheer. She knew precisely where her mother’s bar was, knew exactly what she wanted to drink, could already taste it on her lips.

“Later,” she muttered aloud, drying feet scuffing along the carpeting till she reached her own room.

A spectacular mess, yet she knew precisely where everything was. This snapshot seemed to be from just a few days before the game began. As if in a daze, Rose walked towards her bed and knelt down, picking up the messy work of a knit scarf she’d completed. Striped, comfortable and warm despite the fact it jagged this way and that occasionally from missed and added stitches. It did the job. She held it to her face and inhaled, took in the scent of her room, her belongings, her old life. It brought a sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in ages, hard enough of a knock to her system that she wavered and had to kneel down on the edge of the mattress for a moment.

A flood of thoughts, memories, her own voice, her mother’s voice, Jaspers, childhood, reality, dream, fiction, reality. Then just as fast the game, fire and heat, bloodshed, the limitless knowing and unknowing of the vast beings beyond the shroud that she wasn’t entirely sure were gone from her mind even now. Rose swore she could feel their impulses sometimes, just a step back from her own abilities as a Seer, which begged the question: how much was her and how much was their lingering incomprehensible words hanging in the air of reality?

Books. Books were a good thing to think about instead. Gritting her teeth, Rose dropped the scarf and staggered towards her bookshelf instead, side stepping other items that littered her floor to avoid damaging them as if they were the real thing. Even in a memory, some things were just too precious.

Ah yes. Books of poetry, books of the grim, books of the bright. Her old copy of ‘The Grimoire for Summoning the Zoologically Dubious’, tucked neatly into its shelf near her signed copy of ‘This Ocean Charles’. Considering she’d already dealt with the horrorterrors on a first name basis, the former didn’t hold much interest for her anymore. She flipped through the book to some of the passages she recalled and smiled, tracing her fingers over the words.

How many times had she thought she’d someday write a book of poetry? Or a book in general? Nowadays she could write and write all she wanted, but the only people who’d see it were her friends and girlfriend.

No. Matesprit. That was the word. Come on, Rose, stop being culturally exclusive, you’re better than this.

...Maybe she could use a drink more than she thought she did. Rubbing her face, the edges of a headache coming on from how much the nostalgia was coming for her kidneys, she dropped the book onto her bed and trailed back to the hallway. Like a sleepwalker she made her way to her mother’s bar, the well stocked cabinets overflowing with liquid gold as far as she was concerned.

The fact her mother was there, standing with a martini glass and a confused look on her face, was not something she had bargained for.

“...Rosie?”

Rose felt her stomach drop, then just as quickly heave itself upwards, threatening to come out of her mouth in a rush of nausea. Her knees locked, and the feelings of panic welled up in her chest.

She was dead. She was dead, this was a ghost. This was just a ghost. She’s dead and gone, Rose, get a grip. She’s-

...She’s dead.

She’s dead and not coming back.

Somehow, the thought steeled her and made the next steps feel logical. She was dead. There was no authority over her any longer. The bond was severed, but even then, she felt the bleeding end of the cord that once connected them dragging behind her like a festering dead weight. Her love and worry for her mother, no matter how strong, was tainted by long standing issues that had weighed on her thoughts.

“Rose, what is it? Do you need something? Why are you dressed like that?” she asked, voice a familiar slur. Instead of answering, Rose stepped forward a few paces and slapped the glass out of her mother’s hand. It fell to the ground and shattered on impact, soaking the floor with the clear, strong smelling liquid like poison.

“Do I need something?” she asked. “Do I need something?”

Startled, her mother yanked her hand back and rubbed it, frowning.

“Rosie, what’s wrong? This isn’t like you. I thought you were in the kitchen an-”

Rose couldn’t stop. The switch had been flipped with that one movement, and with it came all the thoughts that had been plaguing her on the meteor, all the thoughts that had been plaguing her since childhood. She clenched her fist so hard she swore she felt blood beneath her nails.

“Mother, be quiet. Just for a minute. I need this,” Rose hissed, surprised by how venomous her thoughts felt. She finally had the chance to air all of her grievances. To get everything out, to have that talk she always swore she’d have with her mother someday as an adult and never got the chance. She could celebrate and hug her afterwards, after the hopeful catharsis that lit her veins. And yet now that she had her attention, now that she had her right where she wanted her… she couldn’t speak. It was like a hand squeezed around her throat, tampering the words down just like always. The nauseated feeling was back. No, this was wrong. This was bad. She shouldn’t feel angry towards her mother like this, she should be happy. This is a mistake. Maybe she should leave, go wake up an-

“...Rose?” she asked softly again, obviously worried.

“Don’t look at me like that,” begged Rose, lifting her hands to her face, covering her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. “Don’t look at me with pity, I get enough of that from Dave and Kanaya.”

“From who?”

“Ugh, nevermind. I just-” she started, then glanced towards the bottles. Without reading the label, she grabbed the nearest pink liquid and unscrewed the cap, taking a healthy swig of it. Watermelon and alcohol assailed her senses, burning a line straight down her throat to her stomach with its bubbles. It was different from what she had on the meteor, the heavy wine that hit like a brick. This would get the job done.

“Rose LaLonde, what do you think you’re doing!”

“Having a drink, mother, can’t you see?” she asked, taking another swig. Black lipstick marked the rim of the bottle, and she dabbed her lips delicately with the back of her hand before coughing for a second. Oof. What a burn. Delightful. She could already feel the warmth working its way back up her spine, or whatever spine she had considering she hadn’t been able to get the words out that she wanted earlier when on center stage.

Mrs. LaLonde made a grab for the bottle, only for her daughter to dodge quickly, speeding to the other side of the room with it. “What’s wrong, mother? Not happy that I’m drinking?”

“Of course I’m not! Gimme that!” she cried, making another attempt at swiping the bottle from her daughter’s hand. Rose was taking another swig when she grabbed it, but simply swallowed, turned, grabbed another bottle, and cracked it open as well.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Or what? You have no power over me!” Rose said defiantly, edging the bottle closer to her lips.

“Rose I am your mother and I-”

“Am dead,” Rose said, taking a drink before choking for a moment. This was like paint thinner despite the lovely coloration of the bottle. “Ugh, how could you drink this stuff when you were alive? Nasty. Where’s something sweet,” she muttered half to herself, looking to the shelves. She didn’t notice the pink eyes disappearing to the dead white eyes of a ghost, but knew it was happening already. Knew it was inevitable. Maybe this was what she needed: some liquid courage to get her mouth working. Same as usual.

“I don’t care, do you think I want this for you?!”

Rose paused with another bottle in hand and glanced towards her mother’s face, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I said, do you think I want this for you! Do you think I want you drinking? Fuck no I don’t!”

“Funny, considering it’s all you ever fucking did,” Rose countered. She clenched the bottle in her fist but didn’t take a drink, instead letting it hang at her side like a morningstar from a loose wrist. It was a showdown, then. Rose realized she was nearly as tall as her mother now, seeing her eye to eye, nose to nose. She recognized more of her own features now that she’d not noticed in her pre-teen face, could tell what pieces of her came from her mother and what had come from Dave’s brother. Father. Whatever. There were more important matters now than genetics discussions.

“I did a lot more than drink and you know it,” Rose’s mother countered, offended. “I raised you from an infant, held down my job, kept everything spic and span, an-”

“All while drinking heavily,” Rose spat right back. “All while entirely sauced! Trashed! Did you think it wasn’t obvious?”

“So what if I had a drink or two?” she asked, frowning. “I still did everything that needed doing.”

Rose stared at her, stared deep into the white voids of her eyes before she clenched her jaw again and bared her teeth like a wild animal. Wielding the bottle like a weapon, she turned and smashed a line of liquor off one of the shelves, broken glass and rainbows of broken promises hitting the floor with a shattering sound that cut the air like a jagged cry. Maybe it was a cry. Her mother’s mouth was open, in shock apparently, but she wasn’t approaching any more. Bottle in hand broken, Rose dropped it, picked up another one, and took another long drink. There was no going back now.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, seeing me like this?” Rose asked, exaggerating her drinking stance for effect. She made an odd picture, mud dried on her blue pointe shoes, half dry hood and hair beginning to frizz from humidity and the leaving of the water droplets from her walk inside. God tier pajamas were both mystical and terribly silly to look at, she knew. At least they were comfortable. “Do I make you sad?”

Her mother continued frowning quietly, apparently looking for her words, before speaking up. “Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it? You’re my baby girl,” she mumbled. “I. ...I want better for you than this.”

“Better for me than what? Drinking in my pajamas? Drinking before noon? Getting wasted in front of my family?” Rose asked, turning to repeat her bottle smashing trick with another shelf. Her shoes were getting wet again, she could feel liquor running between her toes as she minded the broken glass and took a step, picking up another random bottle. It didn’t matter what she drank anymore. It was making her mother uncomfortable, and in a sick sense it made her feel better. This gave her the upper hand, it-

...It was the game they always played, just on a grander scale. Rose felt disgust, at herself, at her mother, at the circumstances, and stared out the window for a moment. Lightning and thunder continued to crack and roar outside, rain pelting the glass like hundreds of tiny fists begging for entry. She squeezed her eyes shut and drank heavily again, head tipped back. When she rubbed her mouth with her hand, lipstick smudged on her face and the side of her pale palm like a shadowy road rash. That should do it. She could talk now, the lump in her throat be damned.

“If you wanted so badly for me to not wind up drinking like you, then why were you always doing it in front of me? Why was it so constant?” Rose asked. “Why was I not enough to make you stop?”

“...Rosie..”

“No, don’t Rosie me, not now mother. Not right now. Why was I not enough to make you stop drinking? Was it something I did? Was I not good enough of a reason to put the bottles down?” she asked, advancing in increasingly wobbly steps like a drunken lioness. Her mother took a few steps back, heels clicking on the tile floor as she stepped behind the bar itself to put space between the two of them. As if she were a threat.

She’s dead.

She’s dead and she’s not coming back, Rose.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” she asked, eyes burning. Her makeup ran, watery lines of tears trailing the black liner of her eyes over her cheeks like a toddler’s finger paint trails. “Every day. Every fucking day, I miss you. I love you! I love you so much!”

Her mother lifted a hand, reaching out reflexively as her child cried, but didn’t advance. Uncertain what she wanted, what she needed right then. They didn’t have advice for this in the child rearing books she’d read, and they never really dealt in this kind of open display of emotion usually. Typically it was an indirect, almost cool kind of affection. At least.. That’s what she thought it had been. Rose didn’t seem to want more than that, when pressed. Yet now she stood in front of her, smelling of booze and sobbing, yelling aloud, shaking like a leaf.

“I love you! And I fucking hate you!” she finally cried, the clench in her voice box finally breaking its hold. “I hate you! I hate you so much! You put me through years of bullshit, years of watching you meander through life with a bottle, years of watching you… watching you do your own fucking thing while I was on the sidelines,” Rose hiccupped, snorting messily to clear her airway. This was far from an attractive cry, but what did she care? This was important, and it was finally happening.

Finally.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?! All the years of your shit? Do you have any care what I felt? Were you even fucking aware, or did you care as much about that as you cared about everything else that wasn’t forty proof?” Rose said, rubbing her nose and sniffling again. “Just. Just say it at least.”

“...What do you want me to say, Rosie?” asked her mother, sounding lost. Worried. “Do you want me to say sorry? Because I am. I’m so sor-”

“I don’t want your sorry, your sorry doesn’t mean anything. It never did. Sorry just meant you felt bad and wanted to not feel bad anymore, it never meant you wouldn’t do it again,” Rose yelled, voice hoarse. She wanted violence, she wanted destruction, she wanted to rain fire down on her home again and never set foot into it ever again.

She wanted a hug.

She wanted to be held.

She wanted her mother to hold her head on her lap, pet her hair, and tell her everything was a bad dream and that she was sorry, that she was quitting drinking, that they were going to do something together. That there would be time for just them again.

That it was safe to feel this chaos, this sense of being unhinged, and that it would all be okay again on the other side.

What she got instead was a scared looking ghost crying silvery tears from behind a bar, the smell of mixed alcohols wafting in the air, and her sinuses clogging up.

“I want.. I want you to say you didn’t love me enough,” Rose said. “I want you to say it.”

“Rose I can’t say that,” her mother said softly. “I loved you more than the world-”

“But not enough to get sober.”

She flinched, and Rose finally could take a breath again, red faced and hiccupping for breath.

“...I still can’t say that, because it’s not true.”

“You’re not a good judge of what’s true or not, mother. I didn’t want Super Mom, I didn’t want a saint, I just wanted you without a fucking bottle or glass or flask on hand. Was that so much to ask for?” Rose asked, croaking.

Her mother looked uncomfortable again before she came around the edge of the bar. In a few strides she’d grabbed her daughter around the shoulders and hugged her tight. She hung on even when she balked and started to squirm. She hung on when Rose’s clenched fists hammered at her sides. She hung on even as her shoulder got wet with tears and saliva and snot.

She hung on even as Rose slowly went limp and started to wail against her shoulder, screaming and crying and blubbering messily about loving her, hating her, wishing she was alive, wishing she was dead. Wishing she was free from her memory and legacy. Wishing none of this had ever happened to them.

Slowly, she began to pet at her hair, sinking down to her knees with her daughter and letting her lay against her lap. Rose tucked her legs up and rested her head down, eyes glassy and distant as she let familiar fingers card through her hair. How many years had it been since her mother did this? Since she allowed her mother to do this? When did it stop feeling so comforting, one upon a time?

“Rose… I have… I had a problem,” she finally said softly. “It wasn’t fair to you. But I had an addiction. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. And you were always the most important thing in my life. Rose, you always astounded me. You were such a precocious kid, I was always so proud.”

“But,” Rose croaked tiredly, looking at the wall, at the floor, at the broken bottles and small lake of alcohol on the printed tiles.

“But I had an addiction,” she said again. “I thought… I thought it was enough, that I was able to do everything while still drinking. I couldn’t give it up, but I was still balancing everything. Or I thought I was.”

“You weren’t. You weren’t at all.”

“I see that now,” said her mother softly. “Rosie- No… Rose. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything you must’ve gone through, to make you feel this way. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt my loving you. I’m sorry that I can’t say it’ll never happen again, now.”

“...If things were different, would there have been a chance?” Rose asked. “If I’d said this… you know. Before. Would there have been a chance you’d have stopped?”

Her mother bit her lip, silvery tears flowing again, and smiled sadly.

“I don’t know, honey. Maybe. But I don’t want you hanging from a maybe like a lifeline,” she said, continuing to stroke Rose’s hair. “I can’t do that to you. All I can say is I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart I’m sorry.”

“...I’m sorry too. I was a shit daughter sometimes, an-”

“You were a child, honey. You were a normal child. You weren’t a shit daughter.” Carefully, she placed Rose’s headband back into place and smoothed her bangs away from her forehead. “I promise. As a shit mother, I think I’m an authority on that.”

Rose couldn’t help the faint laugh that found its way out of her throat, how hollow it felt. She slowly pushed herself upright into a sitting position and rubbed her face again, this time with her sleeve before her mother stopped her and rubbed with her own sleeve, makeup marring the white surface in no time.

“...I can’t stay,” Rose said. “I need to be going back soon. I hadn’t planned on being gone long from the others.”

“I understand,” said her mother, rubbing her own face finally, smiling with her blank eyes. “Are you able to come back to this place?”

“I’m not sure,” Rose admitted. “We’re still a little confused on how these things work, the extent of them. I might even see another version of you in another bubble. But I don’t know if I can come back to this one.”

There was silence between them before Rose’s mother hugged her tight once more, squeezing her hard enough that Rose swore she felt her ribs creak beneath those strong, perfectly manicured fingers.

“I love you, Rosie. Forever and a day. I’m glad I got to see you. ...I hope I helped.”

“You did,” she promised. “This might just be the alcohol talking, but you did.”

“Think it over when you’re sober,” her mother advised. “If you’re still angry, find another me and talk it out as many times as you need. God knows that binch needs yelled at,” she said with a wry smile.

Another laugh came from Rose as she patted her mother on the back.

“You’ve got it. Sober reflection it will be. ..I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too Rose.”

#rose lalonde #mom lalonde #homestuck #my fic

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heyyyashhh · 3 years

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Sapphic Romeo & Juliet

Looking for a sapphic twist on the Romeo and Juliet story? Welllllll check out my first blurp of writing of Rome and Julliette. Please feel free to comment your thoughts on the story and if I should keep it going.

Synopsis

They say love is all-encompassing, they say no matter your circumstances you can love someone and be loved. They will say to you it doesn’t matter who you love, no matter their beliefs or skin color or eye color or even the way their eyes are shaped. The saying goes, well as I’ve heard it, “Love is all-encompassing. Loving is like walking blindfolded, trusting the person you love to lead you in the right direction.” But they never finish the quote, this is how I think it would go, “But nobody tells you the person leading you isn’t the one you love. But actually who you love is already drowned across the river in which your leader secretly pushes you towards.” So yes, love is all-encompassing. You pass the hazards signs, blind to them. You walk through the black air, unfeeling to its cold welcome. Not until you are submerged in the water, do you realize; you’ve been tricked. And who was it that tricked you? Love itself.

Chapter One

I feel blind, I feel numb. I dance, I sing, I chant, I sway. I told myself walking into the party that I wouldn’t drink too much. But here on the dance floor with Nora and Alice, a cup in my hand I can’t help but get addicted to the bitter tang in my mouth of the sour liquid. Some of it spills while I jump and careen, headed towards the middle of the dance floor.

“Julliette, don’t look now but Zak is here.” Nora has to yell to me from barely a foot away. I nod my head to her, a silent thanks for the warning. It would now be two months ago that Isak, or as most people call him Zak, broke up with me out of the blue. I bring the red cup up to my lips, finishing it off with a jerk of my head and the cup following just as fast.

“I am going to get a refill, be right back.” This time it’s me yelling at Nora, and her nodding her response. She laughs as her and Alice rub against each other both spilling droplets of Jungle Juice on their glittery outfits. I went dark for tonight, black denim short-shorts that fray extensively at the bottom. And a black spaghetti-strap bodysuit the tucks nicely into the shorts. Red fishnet stockings slide like a second skin along my long snowy legs, then tuck into my black combat boots. My hair’s is in its natural state. Which in other words would mean straight, but it sharpens my heart shaped face. My makeup is done just as dramatically, with bright red lipstick, and a smokey eye. Confidence is strikingly showing through and performs a perfect execution of the personality I fool everybody into thinking I have. Foolishness is not something I lack of though, and I feel it right before. Someone wraps their arms around me and their hands fall dangerously close to my waistband. I almost flinch at the sudden physical contact. But reel it in before a soul could know.

“Baby girl what are you doing getting a drink alone?” Jack’s breath whizzes past my ear, causing a shudder to race through my body.

I play his game.

“Running from people like you.” An airy laugh leaves him, my body knows how the game works. Molding to his shape, pressing against his actions. But my eyes betray the game, glancing to Zak sitting in a corner talking to his football buddies, or at least he was, before he saw Jack grab me. Now Zak’s eyes were murderous as he tried to stare down Jack. Good I thought, Lets make him jealous.

Within seconds hot air is passed between Jack and mines lips and saliva slips down my chin. Gross. Kissing is not in this guys strong suit. When I open my eyes they pierce into his closed eyes. The world is spinning, that stupid alcohol. I stumble backwards, colliding with the wall. He mistakes it as an invitation and quickly follows me. His body crashing into mine as his kiss becomes more passionate. I try to push him away, but my bones shake when I try. I groan, and he once again mistake this as something it is not. Oh no, what-

It’s cold, I shiver. How did it get so cold so fast.

“Julliette? Are you okay?” Those eyes… “We should get you home.”

“No!”I almost fall suddenly lurching in any direction, “Anywhere but home, for now please.” Hesitation. Those eyes pause, hesitating. They see right through any walls or masks I had ever put up. The light blue eyes that seemed to know every thought racing through my mind. The light blues that haunt my dreams.

“Okay.” Katherine Rome Lysander finally agrees, she grabs me around the waist and leads me away to the front door where we exit swiftly. Her hand brushes only slightly over my rib cage for me to cringe and instantly jerk away from her grip. Obviously not ready for my full weight guilt and all, I begin to collapse forward. Katherine grabs for me, careful to avoid my rib cage. Grabbing me up before my knees touched the floor. She now carries my bridal style. She’s carrying me so lightly, I must have lost weight again.

“Yes Julliette, you have lost weight.” I almost beg her not to look at me, but then her eyes meet mine and it’s like the lighting has completely changed them. They now are soft and not piercing, inviting instead of caged. I try to pry my tongue away from the roof of my mouth, but to no avail. So till it be morrow, I can thank her. I shut my eyes, dreaming of the baby blue hughs.

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melodybreath72 · 3 years

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Medtan.

The 6 Key Points On Melanotan

Content

Doctors Warn Against Use Of Melanotan To Cover Up Tans.

Impotence Drugs. How Does It Make Individuals Behave? Physical Health Threats. Coronavirus: Drinking And Taking Medicines Throughout Relieving Of The Lockdown.

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Before you decide to take any kind of medication, it is best to know what the possible side effects are. There are some common side effects associated with melatonin such as nausea, vomiting, dizziness, itching, and changes in blood pressure. However, these side effects are not usually considered a problem and will only last for a short period of time. This means that if you suffer from nausea and vomiting, you may choose to use a lower dose of melanotan ii. If your condition does not improve you should consult your doctor to determine whether a stronger dosage will be effective.

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Melanotan is a natural peptide hormone of the melanocyte cell that is secreted by the follicles. The peptide is produced from amino acids L-arginine, L-glutamic acid and S-adenosylmethionine. Melanotan is naturally found in low levels in the body and is excreted in small quantities in the sweat and urine. It has low affinity for the blood and is not toxic to most people. It is only when its activity increases to high levels that it becomes a health hazard.

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Melanotan II (RTML), a synthetic analog of the naturally occurring peptide, melanotan, stimulates increased melanogenesis in human beings and enhances sexual interest. The synthetic melanoma has been in use in various countries for over thirty years and has been approved for long-term use in cosmetics by the FDA in 1980. It had shown beneficial results in a number of skin disorders like acne, melasma, multi-use tanning, rosacea etc. However, it had been found to be less effective in the treatment of acquired melanoma. Since there was no direct evidence that RTML is cancer-causing, the FDA allowed the use of the chemical in cosmetics without further clinical trials.

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Impotence Medications. Just How Does It Make People Act? Physical Health And Wellness Dangers. Coronavirus: Drinking And Taking Medications Throughout Reducing Of The Lockdown.

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Another example is that sometimes doctors combine it with a local anesthetic. The dosage may be increased if you have pain and feel uncomfortable. You can use it to treat genital warts and rectal/anal cancer but do not take it for erectile dysfunction unless your doctor recommends it. If you decide to get injected with melanoma, make sure you go to a qualified clinic with well-trained and experienced staff.

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What is Melanotan? It is a naturally occurring hormone responsible for hair growth and color. It is produced in large quantities by human skin and is excreted in the sweat and urine. In addition to its many roles in humans, Melanotan is used in cosmetic products including sunscreen, foundation and lipstick.

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What is melanotan.eu Belgium Melanotan online app ? Melanotan VII is a derivative of melanotan I. It works by inhibiting melanotan II and thus preventing hyperpigmentation of skin. It is, however, only used for skin tanning purposes. It has no known side effects.

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What is Melanotan X? Melanotan X is a melanocortin metabolite that actually stimulates melanin production in the body. It is often combined with other tanning agents to achieve a better color match and increased melanin concentration. It is, however, not approved for the general population.

What is Melanotan VI? Melanotan VI is derived from the blue variety of chalcony and is an inhibitor of melanotan II. https://spa.melanotan.eu/ is believed to be able to prevent or delay the onset of erectile dysfunction in men. It is not, however, approved for use in the treatment of sexual dysfunctions or erectile dysfunction in men.

Like any other medication, you should avoid using a tanning pill with any type of other medications such as antibiotics, birth control pills, anti-inflammatory drugs, and hormone replacement therapy. These can interfere with the absorption of the melanoma and can increase side effects. If you are pregnant or breastfeeding, you should not use it. If you are taking other medications, you should notify your doctor or pharmacist before beginning to take any type of hormone replacement therapy, including melanoma. While there are no reports of side effects while using this medication, it is important to make sure that your doctor is aware of all treatments you are currently using and the side effects of any new drug you are taking. Taking a bit of time to research a product before using, can save you a lot of hassle when it comes to your health.

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