Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 222/?

John Cale - Dying on the Vine (1985)

"Who could sleep through all that noisy chatter?

The troops, the celebrations in the sun.

The authorities say my papers are all in order

And if I wasn't such a coward

I would run.

I'll see you when all the shooting's over;

Meet me on the other side of town.

Yes, you can bring all your friends along for protection,

It's always nice to have them hanging around.

I was thinking about my mother,

I was thinking about what's mine.

I was living my life like a Hollywood,

But I was dying, dying on the vine."

Henlo Cookie UwU! Happy to see your askbox open, hope you get many good requests! I need some of that motivation to dive into the Magi manga u so graciously let me borrow, so I am going to ask for a scenario with Kouen and his beautiful goatee UwU, maybe an arranged marriage, but him and fem!reader actually fall in love? It's a bit unexpected for both of them since they were just seeing it as a duty, but a nice extra. Happy writing, enjoy your week off and much much love and much UwU!

Henlo Hazel! And I’m happy to see you in my askbox UwU. I’m really looking forward to you reading the manga! I’m expecting updates on feelings, though the most interesting things are in the second half, obviously 😉 For now, enjoy Kouen and his terribly weak goatee game! ❤

Word count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive themes

“Do you, Ren Kouen, take L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “And do you, L/N Y/N, take Ren Kouen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Then by the power bestowed upon me by the Kou empire, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The first kiss held no emotion at all. Neither did the vows. Everything felt forced, just like the marriage you had gotten into. Not that you expected anything different. You and Kouen had been forced into a political marriage, you as the eldest princess of your kingdom, and Kouen as the crown prince, who would need a wife for when he ascended.

You had only met once before the marriage. The emperor of the Kou empire and your father were discussing the alliance, while Kouen was showing you around the palace grounds. He had been indifferent, uninterested and he seemed everything but happy. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t too excited about this either. Though you were happy that Kouen was a handsome young man, and not some ugly old creep.

The party was stiff and formal, as you had expected. The wedding took place in the Kou empire, where you would now be living. Only a few nobles and family members from your country had showed up, so most of the guests were people you didn’t know. Kouen greeted them all with either a serious face or a confident grin, and he introduced you to every one of them. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to remember all of their names. The party wasn’t really on your mind at the moment, and neither were politics.

It was with your now husband, and what he would be expecting of you, mostly of the first night. You knew what was supposed to happen, but you did not feel ready for it at all. You had read many stories talking about the romance of sharing a bed with the person you loved, and the fact that you had to share this special moment with a stranger made you sick.

The party lasted until late in the night, and it resulted in quite a lot of drunk people. One of them had been one of the Kou princesses, Kougyoku if you remembered correctly, who had started talking to you. It was a little awkward because she was pretty far gone, but you could feel she meant well. She told you little things about Kouen, things you ‘should know as his wife’. How he would work until late at night, how he enjoyed reading and playing chess to pass his free time. How much all his younger siblings looked up to him, and how much of a respectable man he was. Before she got much further, one of her servants gently coaxed her away from your side, and apologised on her behalf for her intoxicated state.

Not long after that, the party ended and you follow Kouen to the bedroom. You were so nervous you could throw up, but you tried to endure it. Kouen held the door open for you, and you stepped inside.

“Your clothes are over in that closet. If you need anything, call the servants. I will be sleeping in my room down the hallway.” You stared at Kouen in disbelief. “But shouldn’t we… ehm…” “You’re uncomfortable, right? Don’t pretend you’re not, I’ve noticed your behaviour at the wedding. I refuse to take a woman against her will, wife or not. Get used to life around here first, then we’ll see about consummating the marriage.”

You stared at his back as Kouen left your room, unable to react. About a minute after he closed the door behind him, you collapsed and started crying, unable to contain all the feelings you felt. Fear. Had you been so obvious? Would there be consequences? Doubt. Were you not good enough? But also happiness. He would not take you against your will. You would not be forced to spend the night with him. You would spend the night in your own bed, without a stranger next to you, doing things to you.

Once you had let out most of the emotion and sorted the bulk of your thoughts, you got changed into your nightgown and lied down in the bed. After all the stress from that day, and the emotions from that night, you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. The comfort of your new bed took you by surprise, and it didn’t take long before you fell asleep.

The next morning, servants woke you up, helped you get ready, and your new life as a princess of the Kou empire, and wife to Ren Kouen, began. You were required to join him and his siblings during mealtimes, but apart from that you got a surprising amount of freedom. You were no hostage for your country, but you still expected a more restricted approach, certainly since Kouen seemed to strict. Then again, he had already shown you he respected you, at least until a certain degree.

For the first few weeks, you and Kouen barely talked to each other at all. There was some conversation during mealtimes, mostly to keep up appearances, but there was no spark, no affection, no love. Once mealtimes were over, you minded your business, and Kouen minded his. He never asked you to sleep in his room, nor did anyone else question it. It wasn’t like he was unfriendly to you, and neither were you to him. There was just very little interaction coming from either side. It was an arranged marriage after all, this was just your duty. Neither of you seemed very much interested in each other, until one night in the library.

You had been in the Kou palace for a little over a month, and you knew the place like the back of your hand. It was late, but you were far from tired. To chase away the boredom, you decided to head to the library to find a book to read until you got sleepy. Once you entered the library, you noticed the two eldest princes. Kouen was sitting on a chair next to a table with a chess board on it, and Koumei was walking away from the table.

“Come on, Koumei. Just one more game?” Kouen grinned. “You always say one more game, and then you insist on another one after that. I’ve had enough for today, brother. I’ll be retreating to my room. Good night.”

Koumei walked past you on his way out, and nodded to you as a greeting before he left. Kouen sighed, although still grinning, and looked at you.

“Good night, Y/N. What brings you here at this hour?” “I wanted to read a book before going to bed.” “I see… so you’re not tried yet?” “No…?” “You wouldn’t know how to play chess, would you?” “Only the basics, but I do, actually.” You were a little proud to admit you knew how to play chess. Maybe a little too proud. Kouens grin widened at your answer. “Then, why don’t you play a game with me?” You instantly regretted your answer, and the pride behind it, but it was too late to back down now. “Very well, one game.”

One game turned into many. Kouen beat you every game, but you learned from his strategies and got a little better every time. About 5 games in, most of the formalities and indifferent treatments had been cast aside and you finally managed to see Kouen as the person he was. Confident, curious, smart, strategic and most of all, someone who loves gloating at a win, even if it was against an inexperienced player. And on the rare occasion that you made a good move that ruined his strategy? He would actually scowl, which was an oddly cute look on the crown prince. The games continued for a good while, before drowsiness finally caught a hold of you.

“Perhaps we should end our game here for tonight?” “We’re mid-game, how come?” “Because you seem to be falling asleep right where you’re sitting.” Kouen said with a serious face, though he couldn’t help but grin at the end. “Maybe then you should make your move so we can continue this game. That would ease the boredom. I get thinking about your move, but you’re really taking long this time.” “I made my move 3 minutes ago, Y/N. Did you not notice?” You stared at Kouen, and he grinned back at you. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you huffed and got up. “Fine, we’ll end it here for tonight. Good night, Kouen.” “Good night, Y/N.”

Getting up the next morning was more of a challenge than expected. You had stayed up much later than expected because of the games, and now you were feeling the results of your actions. Maybe taking a nap somewhere around noon would be a good idea. Or straight after breakfast. That also sounded good.

“Well well, look who’s finally woken up.” Kouen grinned as you sat down next to him. “Did your defeat from last night keep you awake?” “Oh no, not at all. Though I suppose you slept great, gloating about how you, an experienced player, beat a novice at every single match?”

The table was deadly silent, with the exception of Koumei. Knowing what was going on, a single snort from him was heard before he continued eating with a smile. Kouen stared at you with his piercing glare, before actually laughing. The sound of his laughter sounded like music to your ears, and the way his eyes closed while laughing made your cheeks feel warm.

“Then why don’t we change that? My study, tonight after dinner. I’ll show you that no matter how good you get, you still won’t be able to defeat me.” “You’re on.” “Good.”

Kouen grinned at you one more time, before continuing to eat his breakfast. You had no idea why you agreed to getting your ass kicked some more at chess. It was probably his laugh, the sound and sight of it were now burned into your brain, and you were hoping to see it again soon.

As you walked back to your room, set on getting some more sleep now you knew you would probably be up late again tonight, you went over what just happened one more time. Mostly over what you felt during that conversation. The want to spend another night with him like that, and the heat you felt in your cheeks when he actually laughed. You had a good idea what this was, you had read enough books about it, but you wouldn’t call it love just yet. Maybe a crush would be better. You barely knew him after all, but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case for long.

You Can STAY- Part Two

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (side pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: language

Summary: Y/N has settled into her position as the Castle’s royal mage. She’s also getting to know the King’s sons, even if that means dealing with Seungmin’s challenging comments and Felix’s brooding nature.

Tag List:  @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @staycarat0801 @jjabbur @pinkchcn @smolchild-lol @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @choisaemi @dru-shadow @skzooyeet

A/N: I’ve completely revamped this series. If you look at the masterlist, there are now only 12 parts instead of 20. For a while, I had writer’s block on this series, but I realized that it was because I was super intimidated by my own outline. I think I’ve figured out how to make it more manageable! Hopefully, this means updates once or twice a month (this will also be the shortest part).

Part Two The fresh herbs sold at the Clè Kingdom’s marketplace were incredibly valuable. They were also of the utmost quality, and I had been spending most of the day occupied by choosing the best selection for my private stores at the castle. But I could easily spend most of my time here, surrounded by the things that I loved to create, and my mind was thinking about all of the combination possibilities.

“How about this one, miss?” a vendor asked, holding up a fresh batch of chamomile for my inspection.

“I’ll take it,” I said, offering her payment in exchange for the chamomile. The smell was delicious, and I inhaled deeply before proceeding on my path through the surrounding patrons.

It was a beautiful day; the kind of day that managed to maintain my cheerful smile. The air was warm and welcoming, and I was beginning to think that I was feeling truly happy despite my isolated existence ever since I had first arrived at the castle.

However, up ahead in the distance, I wavered at a booth selling tulips when a passing group of village girls let out obnoxious giggles. “Did you see the fourth prince? He was so handsome!”

“I can’t believe they’re traveling so far away from the Castle!”

“Look! There they are!”

I followed their gazes, frowning at the sight of the King’s youngest sons walking in our direction. I attempted to ignore them, turning my attention to another vendor, but I startled when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The contact was unexpected, and I spun around in surprise to see four of the King’s sons standing in the middle of the market. “Oh!” I said, adjusting my hold on the basket. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

They were all polite smiles, and I recognized them as Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin from our previous introductions during the choosing ceremony. “We haven’t had a chance to be properly acquainted,” Jisung said, bowing low at the waist before standing taller. “We thought you could join us while we visited the town.”

“I don’t know...” I hesitated, wondering what the appropriate response should be considering my status and the eyes of the village watching us with obvious interest.

“It’s alright if you’re concerned,” Hyunjin said with a pleasant smile. “But I always like to have an audience when I play my music.”

“Music?” I questioned, noticing, for the first time, the simple guitar wrapped around Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“I’ve been playing since I was young,” Hyunjin explained. “Of course, my father doesn’t appreciate my music, but I always come to the village to play for whoever wants to listen.”

“He’s pretty good,” Jisung joked, nudging his brother playfully. “It makes for a good use of your time.”

I studied their brotherly banter for a moment before nodding. “I would love to listen.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jisung declared, reaching out to tuck my arm against his. “Let’s go before we lose more daylight!”

My face warmed at the unexpected contact between myself and Jisung, but I chose not to say anything as I allowed the brothers to escort me through the village. From behind us, Seungmin and Jeongin had yet to speak a single word, but I chose to ignore their cold auras. Because Seungmin had already proven himself to be less than desirable.

However, it was easy to disregard Seungmin’s dismissive attitude when I finally heard Hyunjin play for the very first time. It was nothing short of magical, and I should know that better than anyone. In fact, the soft melody of his guitar complimented his raspy vocals, singing an unfamiliar tune that attracted a large crowd of village onlookers who expressed their appreciation for his efforts.

Jisung was the first to start clapping when Hyunjin finished his song, and the other villagers joined along. “Bravo, brother,” Jisung said, clapping Hyunjin on the shoulder. “Another masterpiece.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungmin muttered. “Can’t we do something else?”

Hyunjin scoffed while Jisung simply chuckled. “Of course! I know we came out here to have fun.”

I glared in Seungmin’s direction, wondering if he was this rude to everyone, before I reached down to grab my basket. “I suppose I should return to my shopping-”

“Hey, mage,” Seungmin interrupted, shoving aside his brothers when he pushed his way to the front. I tried not to roll my eyes at the younger prince, especially considering the way that he held his head high like he was excessively proud of his interruption. He reached into my basket to study one of the fresh apples. “You think you’re too good for us?”

I frowned. “I never insinuated such things.” Seungmin flinched when I held out my hand to summon the apple back from him with a simple command. “And I don’t think you want to challenge me,” I added before taking a bite of the delicious fruit.

Jisung raised a brow, clearly impressed. “My brother would appreciate a challenge! We’re planning to practice archery in the forest.”

Seungmin pouted as he eyed the apple in my hand. “She doesn’t look like she could handle it.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked him. “My father taught me archery when I was younger, and I was the best in our village.”

The comment was intended to act as a challenged, and as I expected, Seungmin didn’t take well to my tone, rolling back his shoulders as he glared at me. “I challenge you to an archery competition,” Seungmin said. “No magic.”

“Okay,” I said with a grin. “But I hope you can accept the results.”

“As long as you’re willing to play fair,” Seungmin huffed, tossing his robes behind him as he started in the direction of the Castle with Jeongin faithfully by his side.

Meanwhile, Jisung looked at me with a wicked smile. “I hope you kick my brother’s ass.”

Hyunjin snickered, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulders as they led the way to the royal archery courts.

Seungmin watched me from afar as I busied myself with scanning the available offerings of archery bows that had been delivered by the Castle servants. As someone who considered herself to be of smaller stature, I needed something light-weight and flexible. Thankfully, Hyunjin was more than willing to assist me, and we tried out a variety of bows before settling on an offering that felt like it had been born to serve me.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said lazily, enjoying the look of frustration written across Seungmin’s countenance at my nonchalant attitude.

He stepped forward with determination, raising his bow and notching the first arrow before he focused all of his attention on the target board waiting in the low coverage of the trees. I held my breath, admiring his perfect form and the light bead of sweat dotting his brow from his intense concentration. Eventually, he pulled back and released the arrow, and we all watched as it soared through the air in a perfect arch before landing close to the middle. 

There was a smattering of applause from his siblings, and Seungmin turned around and bowed before smirking. “Try and beat that, mage,” he said, cocking one brow in derision while he joined Jeongin on the sidelines.

I sighed at his tone, taking my position and adjusting my posture. It took me longer to prepare my bow and arrow, but I had not touched the weapon in many years. Still, it was annoying to hear Seungmin snickering at my obvious lack of experience, and I swallowed hard as I tried to remember my lessons. I rolled my eyes as I notched my arrow, holding the bow between my hands as I focused on the target. I released a shaky exhale as I held up my bow and sent the first arrow flying through the air.

With a dull CLINK! it made contact with the very center of the target, and Jisung started laughing and dancing around the field like he was thoroughly entertained by my success. Even Hyunjin planted a hand over his mouth to stiffle his obvious amusement. But Seungmin was positively enraged.

“You’re cheating!” Seungmin exclaimed. “She’s using magic.”

“I told you to accept the results,” I said. “It seems that you can’t admit defeat.”

“Do you expect me to believe that a common mage managed to hit the middle of the target on your first attempt!” Seungmin growled. 

“I didn’t use magic,” I retorted sharply, shoving the bow at Jisung. “That is all I have to say on the subject. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to that won’t leave me on the receiving end of a ridiculous prince’s ridicule!”

“How dare you!” Seungmin shouted to my retreating figure, but I payed him no attention as I picked up my basket from the forest floor. He was nothing but a pest who wasn’t used to the common folk challenging his authority. Seungmin was a silly child, and I should’ve anticipated that he wouldn’t let me simply walk away. Still, the impact was jarring, and I fell to the ground with Seungmin on top, fighting for control over my attacking hands which I refused to allow him. In the meantime, his brothers stood off to the side, laughing at our skirmish.

“Seungmin, this is embarrassing,” Jisung said.

“Father would be so disappointed,” Hyunjin added, and neither brother made any attempt to stop our foolish fight. But no matter how many times I tried to throw off Seungmin’s lanky form, he kept up the assault, trying to pin my hands next to my head.

“You’re immature,” I spat at him.

“Well, you’re a cheater!” Seungmin retorted, squealing when I raked my nails down his arms.

“HEY!”

The two of us immediately froze at the sound of a strikingly familiar command, and I glanced over Seungmin’s shoulder and frowned at the approaching figure. “What’s going on here?” Felix demanded, and I shivered at his deep voice.

“N-Nothing,” Seungmin stuttered, and I was fascinated by his abrupt change in demeanor. He rolled off to the side, struggling to stand on his own two feet, while I propped myself up into a sitting position. 

Felix glanced between us with narrowed green eyes, and his hair looked like it was practically on fire underneath the influence of the sun. Finally, his gaze settled on me. “Did my father bring you here to play around all day, mage?”

I bristled at his words. “You misunderstand, your majesty.”

There was venom behind my tone, but Felix didn’t appear any less intimidated. “You’re going to be trouble for us, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, returning to a standing position as I confronted the Prince. “Your brother was the one who requested my presence. I won’t have these unnecessary slights against my character.”

“Is that so?” Felix asked, and there was a slight upturn to his upper lip that relaxed some of his earlier tension. “I think you’re awfully proud of yourself, mage, considering that you’re in a position of servitude.”

“One that I agreed to, your highness,” I remarked. “This position is desired amongst my people, and I was able to secure it for myself. Do you really think that after all my hard work, I’d willingly sabotage that which I have earned?”

“I suppose not,” Felix allowed, lowering his gaze. “Forgive me.”

“Perhaps when such forgiveness is justified,” I said, and before Felix could offer another sharp retort, the arrival of a new presence seemed to relinquish the authority to de-escalate the situation even further.

“This is a surprising meeting,” Prince Chan declared upon his entrance, and his smile was wide when he continued in our direction. “Is there a problem?”

“Not anymore,” Felix said, and he had the audacity to smile at me like we were suddenly friends despite his earlier words.

“My apologies, your highness,” I said, offering Felix’s apology to Chan, and I was pleased to see Felix’s smile disappear. “I was invited here by your brothers.”

“All of them?” Chan asked, stopping next to us as he gave Felix a meaningful look. “Father told you to stay inside the castle, did he not?”

Felix sneered, giving me one last lingering look before promptly walking off in the direction of the Castle’s main entrance. In the meantime, Chan looked around at his younger brothers. “I think we’re done here.”

Jisung and Hyunjin bowed in compliance while Seungmin rejoined Jeongin with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest in a petulant manner. “As you wish,” I said, nodding politely before reaching down for my basket.

“Walk with me,” Chan requested, reaching out for my wandering hand, and I was more than happy to oblige.

Chan was quiet during our walk back to the Castle. But conversation didn’t seem necessary, especially when his entire persona evoked a sense of calming. It was peaceful between us, and I continued to sneak glances at his handsome profile, wondering about the person beyond the golden-blonde hair and angelic blue eyes.

“You’re curious,” Chan remarked, pausing outside of the castle’s doors. “It only seem natural considering your circumstances.”

“I suppose,” I said, connecting my hands behind my back. “But it really isn’t any of my business.”

“On the contrary,” Chan said, opening the door for me like some kind of otherworldly gentleman. “I think you should ask questions about the people you wish to serve.”

I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything else as I followed him inside. I wasn’t certain of Chan’s intentions, but he seemed to be taking me somewhere, and I was polite enough to respect him. Of all the brothers I had met so far, with the exception of Felix, Chan intrigued me the most. But at least my curiosity for Chan was genuine while my study of Felix was rooted in suspicion for the young Prince who clearly did not belong here.

“My quarters,” Chan said, pausing outside of a room at the end of the hallway. “I hope you don’t mind, but my wife has asked to meet you.”

I blinked in surprise. “Oh, of course not, your highness.”

Chan smiled, encouraging me to enter the sparsely furnished room where I noticed a beautiful young woman waiting for me on the impressive bed that sat beneath an overhanging window. “Hello,” the woman greeted me politely.

I bowed once, looking back at Chan who observed the two of us without a hint of emotion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, hesitating only briefly before I walked further inside the room. I swallowed hard when I noticed the raised bumps decorating the skin of her arms.

“The castle’s new mage,” she said. “I’m glad that you could make time for me.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I cannot lie and say that I wasn’t curious when I first learned of your identity.”

“Well, your handmaidens likely only told you about the poor woman who is dying,” she said, and I could see Chan wince from the corner of my eye. “My name is Ella, and I promise that I’m more than that.”

“Oh,” I said, struggling for the right words. “I hope that you don’t think that I’ve thought less of you.”

“Of course not,” Ella said. “However, I know what most of the people here think about me.”

Chan cleared his throat, and he appeared uncomfortable with the conversation. “Darling, I think we can try to visit the gardens tonight, if you’d like.”

Ella nodded, and her eyes glimmered with the promise of such a seemingly innocuous occasion. “I would love that,” she said, before looking back at me. “Chan tells me that you’ve already left a strong impression on his siblings and the King. I hear that you’re the strongest magic user to ever serve the Castle.”

“Well, I’ll certainly have to prove myself worthy of such a title,” I said. “I’ve been practicing magic since before I can even remember.”

“What a beautiful gift,” Ella remarked. “I’m sure you’ve done a lot of good with your abilities.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I love to help the people in this kingdom.”

“I’m sure you’re also adept at healing,” she continued. “Wouldn't you say?”

I widened my eyes in surprise when I caught the implicit meaning behind her comment. “I have a talent for it,” I said, keeping my remarks vague because I never expected to hear this fragile young woman, during our very first meeting, request that I restore her health.

“Interesting,” she said, giving me a knowing look that I chose to store away until I could process the implications. “I know you have other responsibilities,” Ella said. “Thank you for seeing me.”

I bowed again to demonstrate my respect before I followed Chan back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” Chan said, refusing to look at me. “I know it was shameful of her to ask for your help.”

“It caught me off-guard,” I said. “But I don’t like to see anyone suffering. What sort of disease does she have?”

“It’s a very rare disease,” Chan explained to me, and there was a stunning amount of emotion behind his tone. “I don’t know much about it, but I know that they cannot cure her.”

“I see.”

“Y/N.” Chan sighed, and there was a raw vulnerability in his gorgeous blue eyes that exposed his desperation. “Ella hasn’t been herself since her diagnosis. I can barely recognize the woman that I married.”

“Your highness,” I said. “If you allow me, then I’d like to do my best to help Ella. In the best way that I can.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and his eyes glistened at their corners. “I would be forever in your debt.”

“The King’s sons owe me nothing,” I said. “I have no right to ask of anything in return for my services.”

“But?” Chan questioned.

I took a deep breath, searching the perimeter to ensure that we were truly alone before I leaned in closer. “Tell me everything you know about Prince Felix.”

To Have and To Hold

Summary: Y/N makes an oversight at work. The resulting extra hours with Arthur delight them both.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,272

A/N: This story had been kicking around in my head for about two months, but I hadn’t been sure if I was going to write it. Then I read @sweet-nothings04‘s amazing Hand-in-Hand (which you all need to check out, if you haven’t), and knew I had to put it on paper. Thanks to her for the inspiration to finally develop this, and for the title, too!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

Perhaps it was the sunshine that stirred her. Or the horns of traffic on congested streets. The hammering of a distant construction site. The chatter and occasional yelling of passersby.  The hum of Gotham awakening.

Y/N blinked in confusion - how could it be so bright this early? - and squinted at the clock at Arthur's side of the bed. No numbers greeted her, just its blank, plastic display. Stretching, she reached to her left for her watch, in its spot by the beige rotary phone on the nightstand.

"Shit!"

Nearly knocking over her glass of water, she clambered off the mattress. Arthur had warned her the lights could go off in his apartment. Not often and not for long. But enough to annoy. Naturally, his building's shoddy electricity had to mess with the alarm today. When she'd stayed up too late. When he'd had to leave ahead of her to commute to the other end of the city for a rare winter gig. When her body had chosen to oversleep in the coziness of his blankets.

Her nylons had never been yanked on with such haste. Arthur had made coffee but she skipped it in favor of brushing her teeth. Pausing on her way out, she took a calcium supplement and grabbed a note from the counter. She read it while riding the wood-paneled, graffiti covered elevator: "Your presentashin will be great. You snored a lot. Good thing your cute. - Arthur." He always signed his name. As though she wouldn't recognize his scrawl. As if anyone else wrote her sweet, sassy missives. She grinned until she hopped on the for-once punctual subway.

The presentation he'd referred to was set for that afternoon. She was expected to discuss the evidence and court file for this week's contested hearing. Last night, she'd sat at Arthur's breakfast bar to compile the case's final details and finish prep sheets. Gently, she'd rebuffed his subtle advances. His attempts to draw her attention from work to him.

Excitement had been palpable as he'd hovered near her. She was fairly certain she knew the cause because it enthused her as well. In three and a half short weeks, he'd be moving in with her. They'd officially begin traversing whatever the future held for them together. Hesitation had been clear in his posture, his drawn shoulders when (after plenty of convincing on her part that yes, she really, really, wanted him) he'd finally accepted the key to her place. But since he'd added it to his own keyring, he'd brightened. Strode a little taller. Walked a little prouder. Touched a little bolder. As though the weight he carried had lessened, at least by a couple cinder blocks' worth.

At his slight pout, she'd decided to find a way to involve him. He'd perched on the stool next to her, rested his cigarette in the pink ashtray to the left, and taken the proffered exhibit stickers with a quirked brow. Y/N had handed him papers, which he'd added labels to for her to write on. Then she'd stacked them in four different piles according to type. It had taken longer than usual - she was faster alone. But the intimacy of sharing the professional elements of her life with Arthur (besides the office wear he liked, claiming it showed how "smart" and "pretty" she was) had tightened her chest. And the curved-up corner of his thin lips had reflected how pleased he was, too.

They hadn't been able to collaborate on everything, however. It was past midnight by the time she'd joined Arthur, who had retreated to the bedroom an hour or so earlier. He'd been sitting against the headboard, half under the cover. The harsh blue light emanating from the old black and white TV at the foot of the bed had sharpened his features. Deepened the set of his eyes. He'd stubbed out his smoke as she closed the door. "I taped The Honeymoon Game. We can watch it when you're here again." A beat. "If you're not busy."

"This is supposed to be my last big project for a month or so." Sighing, she'd gotten her nightgown from her overnight bag. "I didn't mean for it to take all evening." She climbed in next to him and threw her arm across his lap. "I'm sorry."

He'd been stiff. Unyielding. The telltale signs he was miffed or upset. But he'd twined her hair around his finger, let his touch fall to her brow bone. "It's okay," he'd said lowly, adjusting to lie alongside her. "I don't want to be... I'm not being fair."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Arthur. It's all right to be annoyed." Tiredness had pulled at her as she'd fought to watch the rest of Gotham Tomorrow Tonight. The contact of his socked toes to her bare ones had made her smile, though, and she'd nuzzled his bicep. "I missed you," she'd mumbled, then promptly passed out.

The squeal of wheels on metal tracks prompted her to sling her canvas tote onto her shoulder. Shaw & Associates was a short sprint from the nearest station. She was certain she looked ridiculous, running down the street in her high heels. But she managed to slip into the office with two minutes to spare. Once she poured herself a cup of joe and straightened her blazer, she settled in her cushioned chair to get started.

It was only when Matt told her he wanted to meet before lunch that she'd rummaged in her bag. And realized she'd neglected to bring the file. Recalled it was sitting on Arthur's kitchen counter.

Fuck.

Her nails tapped the wood surface of her desk. Excusing herself to the bathroom so she could go retrieve it wouldn't fly. Matt would send a search party. She could try to discuss everything from memory, tell him documents were still being gathered. But he wasn't that oblivious. She settled on owning her error. "It's at home." Her delivery was nonchalant.

He waited until she'd loaded her typewriter with paper, then responded wryly. "You're not supposed to take files home anymore. Remember what happened last time?"

She leaned back as he stepped in front of her. "There was the slew of family cases that came in. With Patricia on leave, I'm handling all our calls and mail. Not to mention paperwork on her filings. It wouldn't have gotten finished if I hadn't taken it." Snorting, she shook her head at herself. Heat bloomed in her neck. "Not that it matters when I don't have it."

Expression softening, Matt stuck his hands in his pockets and jutted his chin at her. "How long did you work on it?"

It was hard to discern if he actually cared about the hours she put in. Or if he merely wanted to gauge the possibility of her doing investigations off the books again, something he'd explicitly prohibited. "I don't know." She waved dismissively. "Three or four hours?"

He let out a huff. "You put in enough time already. Go home at noon. We'll get to it first thing tomorrow."

"I have a lot to do." Her eyes widened at the myriad piles of folders laying around. "And I can't imagine you playing operator."

"I've managed when you've both been in court or at appointments. Besides," he continued as he headed back to his office. "You never take days off."

Straightening, she wheeled her chair to watch him plop down on his leather seat. "I'm taking three days next month," she countered.

His glare contained an unequal mix of mirth and consternation. "Y/N?"

The phone started ringing. She succeeded in making one ear ignore it. "Yes?"

"I know you haven't forgiven me for that whole Renew Corp. thing." She flinched at the casual mention of the company she loathed. Of her failure. But she forced herself to listen. Matt picked up a pen and started writing. “Rather than being stubborn, try saying, 'You're right.'"

~~~~~

Y/N stood in front of the narrow, white stove, stirring the soup she'd thrown together using bouillon, carrots, onions, and pasta. Ingredients she'd found in Arthur's kitchen. Music poured, at a respectable volume, from the radio on the windowsill. Swaying out-of-time, she added a sprinkling of black pepper, one of the only three spices he had (along with powdered garlic and salt). Wearing a content smirk, she sampled the steaming broth.

When she'd left the office, she'd been frustrated at herself. Yes, she was human. Everyone made mistakes. But she wasn't the forgetful type. Particularly if someone was depending on her. However, as she'd stopped in Burnley for another change of clothes, hopped on the train to Otisburg, and pictured Arthur's reaction to finding her in his home instead of having to call to wish her sweet dreams, her disposition had improved. Not only would he have her for an extra night. He'd get a late lunch, too.

The click of the deadbolt and clank of his keys on the entrance table came the second she turned off the stove. She listened to his heavy exhale as his bag dropped to the floor and shut the door. In her peripheral vision he froze, then approached tentatively. She reveled in his delicate hold on the dip of her waist, the peck he planted on her cheek. The smell of greasepaint wafted to her nose. "I hoped I hadn't made this up," he sighed with what sounded like relief. "But your meeting."

She angled herself towards him, gaze roving over his red and blue plaid blazer. The painted-on smile. His irresistible brown curls, mostly flattened by the wig he'd worn. Fidgeting with the petals of the squirting flower on his lapel, she scrunched up her face. "This morning went to shit." She explained the power outage, the clock, her own stupidity at leaving the file in his apartment. "I've packed it. Don't worry."

His posture grew pensive. "Sorry. Maybe- Maybe we should have stayed at your place. Your building's better."

Him thinking her error was somehow his fault had to be nipped in the bud. "No," she said. "You asked to make more memories here before we move in together. I'm happy to do that."

He paused, long enough she could have sworn she'd heard the gears in his head grinding. "Are you in trouble?"

Not unexpectedly, he had put together her mistake and her early dismissal from work and assumed the worst. "If I wasn't fired for trying to stop the Waynes, it's going to take more than an oversight to get me thrown out on my ass." Her brow furrowed. She sneaked a hand under his jacket and placed her palm on his chest. "I just hate that I wasted last night for nothing."

Soft lips, slightly sticky with red paint, grazed her temple. "It's okay," he said. "You're here now. And I got to help you."

The balm of his kindness loosened her rigid stance. His zeal to assist her, to ask questions, to learn about every aspect of her branded her heart completely. She leaned into him, kissed the squishy fold of skin under his chin, and nudged his ribs. "Food's ready. Go change. I want to hear all about your day."

Arthur emerged from the bathroom within minutes, clad in his worn, blue house pants and toweling his hair. Dimples were on constant display while they ate. The glint in his eyes was the one he usually had if his act or a job had gone particularly well, if he was pleased with himself. Was the one starting to be an almost weekly occurrence. Was the one that made his green eyes sparkle and caused her stomach to flip. He inched closer to her with every sentence.

The kids at the new children’s medical center had liked Carnival, he said. They hadn’t minded that he’d "filled in" for Gary. The magic tricks had all gone without a hitch, and the clinic had provided the balloons, which was a savings. The nurses and doctors had been nice; they’d even asked for his card. He’d had to provide a slip of paper with his address and telephone number instead. But he was sure he’d be invited to perform again. And he asked Y/N for help writing Gary a thank you note for the referral, claiming, “You’re better at that than me.”

“You’re the one who journals every day.” Her bowl and spoon clattered in the sink. “And your letter to me was beautiful. Just let me proofread it.”

Soon they were reclined on the sofa, sharing the flat pillow he’d used when he’d had no choice but to sleep there. The tape he’d recorded yesterday was playing. The Honeymoon Game had been a casual watch before, he’d explained. Not a nightly ritual like Murray. Given that he had a girlfriend and was a boyfriend himself, it had become fun to view.

She was only half-focused on the TV’s talking heads. Her mind was drifting to moving day, which filled her with gladness. She examined the plaid walls, the white cream color ceiling, the knick-knacks strewn about in the glow of the setting sun. The lantern with an owl hanging in the corner; the green, plastic drawers by the television; the curio cabinet... They were all a part of 8J, but assuredly not a part of him. How much would he be bringing with him, she wondered. And what would he be leaving behind?

“With one sugar and a shot of milk.” Arthur’s lively voice broke through her contemplation. Ah. He was reacting to the questions posed to the contestants, and making the answers about her, as he was wont to do.

She nestled back into the pleasant warmth of his firm frame. “Three sugars,” she replied, confirming she knew how he took his coffee. They continued to play along, with him showing off everything he’d memorized about her, and her replying with what she’d gathered about him.

Eventually, he shifted behind her. Raised himself on his elbow. “How did you know you loved me?”

Her hum was soft. Short. Possible responses were multitude. She’d suspected she could fall for him early on. When he’d wanted to repay her for doing what anyone should have done on the subway. And the first time he’d had the courage to call her after they’d split a slice of pie, his slight stammer revealing his nervousness. Maybe she’d say it was how slowly he’d drunken his wine during dinner, initially squinting as he sipped, his inexperience with alcohol obvious.

But she chose to go with what she believed was truest. What she assumed he’d hear most keenly. “Before we slept together, I hadn’t been with anyone for four years. And even then, it was different.” His hand splayed on her abdomen, thumb dragging along the waistband of her green leggings. A delightful ache flared in her center. “When I woke up, I felt perfect.”

“You felt like you were perfect?”

“No, silly,” she laughed, batting his forearm. “I knew I hadn't made a mistake. I reached out to your side, first thing - I’d thought of it that way, even then.” At the sensation of his hardening shaft against her rear, she giggled. “You’d made me so happy. You always do. I wanted to you to bed me again.”

The round tip of his nose skimmed her cheek, and she shivered at the dip of his fingers into her panties. “I want to again,” he rasped, paraphrasing her. The grind of his length was making her light-headed, and she twisted her torso to look at him. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Cheekbones glowing, he averted his eyes. “Ever since I woke up.”

“My monthly started,” she said regretfully. His descent halted, and a groan of frustration left him as he lowered his forehead to her shoulder. She mused. While he was becoming more apt to say what he desired, it happened rarely. But she loved it and didn’t want to discourage him from letting himself be assertive. Would he be offended by her suggestion? “I freshened up before we laid down. I have a tampon in. There are other things we can do.” She pressed her lips together, hoping she didn’t sound presumptuous. “If you’re comforta-“

“I’m comfortable.” His mouth quickly claimed hers, opening on a sigh. The tip of his tongue laved at the seam of her lips, and his messy enthusiasm made her whimper. Leaving a scorching trail in its wake, his hand traversed to her upper leg, gliding over the crease where her thigh and vulva met.

Shallow breaths caressed the nape of her neck, stoking the heat threatening to consume her. But the studio audience blaring from the television’s mono-speaker kept wresting her out of her haze. She snatched the VCR remote from the coffee table and hit the pause button.

The tease of his fingertips at her dark curls caused the peaks of her breasts to stiffen. She gasped as the rough fabric of her sweater dragged along them. His fore- and ring fingers spread her outer lips and she shuddered. The leisureliness of his fondling didn’t detract from its intoxicating effect.

Though it was a tad rough. “You’re kinda dry. Hold on.” Swiftly, he brought his hand to his mouth and wet his fingertips. Y/N blinked at him. It was clear he thought nothing of it, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering he’d confided he liked going down on her. Still. Seeing this normally reserved man improvise so he could pleasure her made her center throb with need.

Y/N was doing her damnedest to get her leggings and underwear down. Arthur snorted at her spirited, failed attempt at kicking them away. “It’s okay,” he chuckled, pushing them off her ankles with his foot. Then his touch fluttered at her swollen folds. She arched into him, already feeling as though she would burst. Bent at the knee, her leg lifted until her foot was flat on the couch cushion, allowing him easier access. He took advantage, sweeping forward and back along the rigid line of her engorged clitoral hood. She rolled towards him subtly, her moans getting louder with each tap to her sensitive nub.

Still holding himself up, he cradled her head. "Your sounds make me crazy," he said lowly. Once his hips started following hers, faintly rutting against the flesh of her backside, she closed her eyes. Hurriedly, she reached behind her to yank at his pajamas. "What?" he asked.

"I want to feel you," she whispered. There was a huff and some fumbling. And moments later his cock was settled at the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lip, savoring the weight of him. God, he felt wonderful.

His fingertips whispered over her clit, daring to follow the edge of her inner labia. She heard him gulp. "How does it feel when we're together? When- When I'm in you?"

"Warm. Full. Like you belong there," she replied with a smile. That last part of her response must have been unexpected, given that his grazes ceased and he trembled. "Don't stop," she whined, placing her hand on his. "Please, Arthur. You know just how to touch me."

Groaning, he started anew, deftly swiping quicker and quicker. The undulations of her pelvis hastened unevenly, begging both for release and for their coupling to last forever. She ran her palm up her torso, kneading her breast and plucking at her nipple. He nuzzled at her ear, grunting low in the back of his throat. Winding her fingers into his loose waves, she tugged lightly. Her belly twitched. Her whole frame tingled.

His skillful touch. The love they had for one another. The noises he was making in the crook of her shoulder. They all combined to throw her over the edge, and a wave of pleasure crashed through her. She cried his name brokenly, feeling empty without him inside her. But he kept holding her, guiding her through the crests of her climax. She was gasping, struggling to suck in air. Surely, she thought, he could detect the thundering of her heart against her ribs.

Gradually, the quivering grip she had on his locks eased. The kisses he planted on her neck were open-mouthed, desperate. And he hadn't halted the ardent movements of his hips. Y/N turned onto her other side. Gazing at him, she raked his curls out of his face, caressed his cheekbone with her knuckles. His look was hungry, darkened with need. The creases between his brows deepened as her hand trailed through the sparse dusting of hair on his chest.

There was a youthful charm to this situation, she considered. To them craving each other but not completely joining. It reminded her of being a teenager. When she'd been curious and horny, but nervous and not quite ready to go "all the way" with her ex. Being with Arthur allowed her to do all that again. To relive those experiences, to explore and make discoveries with him. To fall further in love with him daily.

She tenderly pecked the freckles at the top of his sternum, nestled against the notch above his clavicle. "I'm lucky to have you."

He didn't miss a beat, even as she trailed past the ticklish spots on his flank. "I'm luckier."

"I disagree." She outlined the slender muscles of his stomach, the v-lines leading to his cock. Played with the springy, brown curls at the base of him. "Without you, I'd only have my work. Which was enough before. But not now." After a moment, she concluded she was being sappy. She had to change it up. "And I wouldn't be having the best sex of my life."

Clearly flustered, he muffled his laugh. "Really?" His blush was prominent, his grin ecstatic.

"Really." Groans short and sudden, he rocked into her touch when she encircled his ample girth. Her fingers danced along his shaft, marveling at the contrast of his velvety skin with how hard he was. Pumping up and down, she tugged at him, trying to match the speed of his thrusts. He nudged his nose to hers, gazing at her before his hooded eyes flitted to watch what she was doing. Then she looked, too.

The sight of him fucking into her hand made her dizzy with want, even though he'd just gotten her off. The crimson, swollen head glistened, slick beading generously at the tip. Y/N licked her lips and spread it around him with the pad of her thumb. Moaning sharply, he bucked harder. Her motions quickened, flicking repeatedly at the notch on the underside.

Demand was implicit in the grasp he had on her upper arm. And it strengthened as his hips' stuttered, becoming unpredictable. Ragged pants hit her face. "I'm- I'm gonna make a mess.”

"It's all right," she soothed. Keeping ahold of him, she lay on her back. He followed and settled on top of her. Whimpering her name, he rubbed himself against her labia. But she gently pushed him onto his knees and continued palming him, her fingers teasing the ridge on his erection. It wouldn't take long to make him come. She could see it in the clench of his jaw, the tightening cords in his neck, his abrupt, needy cries...

Plunging forward, he held himself in place, grunting, clutching her urgently. His release hit her abdomen, warm and wet, and she gasped, her body curving up towards him. The feel of him spilling onto her couldn't completely distract her, though. Not from the beauty of his parted lips. Not from the relief that gradually spread across his features. Not from the slackening of his muscles as tension ebbed.

Sweat had gathered on his forehead. A droplet ran from the end of a dark brow to his jawline. Then he kissed her, his mouth groping at hers. "I love you," he said. He gave her one last peck and sat up on his knees. Holding onto the arm of the sofa, he retrieved her underwear from the floor and wiped her belly off. "That was fun." He tucked his chin bashfully.

"I concur." She entwined their hands and sat, then stretched as she pushed herself to stand and walk to the bathroom. The washcloth he'd designated as hers hung on the hook by the towels. She cleaned herself, listening as Arthur started the show again.

A new round of questions was just beginning. "When you and your spouse first met," the host started, "what was your first impression?"

Arthur's answer was instant. "Nice."

Y/N said the first thing that came to mind. "Handsome."

She popped her head out of the room to find him leaning on the entrance of the short corridor, beaming at her with hitched giggles. He was probably waiting for his turn to clean up. Like he normally did. But she couldn't stop herself from staring at him. Loving eyes met hers and his brows lifted expectantly. "Yes?"

Smiling, she wrung out the washcloth and put it back in its place. She stepped to him with a smile and smoothed his hair back. The rush of happiness in her soul, one she wasn't even sure she had, enamored her. Not only at what they'd shared on his old, scratchy sofa. But at Arthur being Arthur. At knowing soon she'd get to sleep next to him every night. Build a life with him, one she hadn't dreamed of even six months ago. Nothing she could say seemed adequate. So she went with a kind gesture, one she knew he'd appreciate. "I'll make us some decaf. And I love you, too."

~~~~~

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Sanctuary: Chapter 21

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Sunday, 31st October 1971, 12:15 pm The Marauders spent every spare moment of the two weeks following the potion disaster perfecting their plans, practising the spells and brewing a new potion which his friends had ordered Remus to stay away from. Something he had been more than happy to do. During the last week, they had taken it in turns to sneak down to the Great Hall in pairs during the night and cast the required spells. Remus had requested Sirius be his partner for the night missions, as he was more comfortable sharing the cloak with him than the others, leaving James to work with Peter.

The big day had finally arrived, and they were all feeling antsy and restless, anxious for everything to go off without a hitch. Remus, though, was suffering the effects of the coming moon on top. He'd woken that morning with a deep ache in his bones, and his senses were already heightened.

To make matters worse, his friends would not stop bugging him about being in the Great Hall for the feast. 'You have to be there, you put so much work into it,' Sirius pleaded. 'Yeah. You can sit at the end with Sirius next to you and us opposite. We'll make sure no one gets close to you,' Peter said. Remus shook his head. 'I don't know, guys. It's going to be so crowded.' 'What if you come for lunch? Try it out and see how you feel?' James said. That actually sounded like a reasonable idea. It wouldn't be as busy at lunch, especially on a Sunday. Everyone went at different times during the hour that food was made available. So he would be able to get an idea of whether it would be bearable without getting overwhelmed. 'Alright, I'll come for lunch, but I'm not making any promises about attending the feast.' The three Marauders grinned at him in victory, and Sirius whooped for good measure. Lunch went well. As promised, they sat at the far end of Gryffindor's table, furthest from the teachers and from the entrance, and Sirius sat on his right. Sirius was right-handed and Remus was left-handed, so that seating arrangement meant neither of them had to move the arm that was next to the other, minimising the chance of accidental touch. The hall was such a cavernous space that Remus even found the noise level bearable, and the food smells masked the scent of Sirius enough for him to focus. Someone, probably Hagrid, had decorated the Hall for Halloween with fake spiderwebs, pumpkins, and orange and black streamers. Thankfully, none of the school's decorations would interfere with the Marauder's plans for the evening's entertainment, but they looked around with interest, making notes for the next year. 'We could definitely use those pumpkins for something,' James said, leaning over the table and pointing. Sirius nodded. 'The streamers too. Even the spider webs have potential.' At that moment, Remus spotted Lily approaching. 'Let's discuss this later. We have company,' he said, nodding at her. 'Hi, Remus. It's good to see you in the Hall for a change.' 'I thought it was about time. My friends promised to keep me safe,' he said, offering her a smile. 'Hmm,' she said, eyeing the other boys. 'Well, if you ever want a break from them, you're welcome to sit with me and my friends.' 'Why would he want a break from us, Evans?' Sirius asked. 'We're his best mates.' 'You can sit with us too if you want?' James said. 'Urgh, no, thank you. I'd rather sit alone.' She turned back to Remus. 'I'll talk to you in Defence tomorrow.' And with a toss of her hair, she returned to her friends. 'Yeah. Okay, bye then,' Remus muttered to her retreating back, wondering why she had such an issue with his friends but liked Snape of all people. 'So, after that rather rude interruption, what are we going to do for our Chief Artist's birthday on Wednesday?' James asked. Sirius' birthday was on Wednesday? Oh, that just wasn't fair. The full moon was Tuesday night. He'd be stuck in the hospital wing all day and miss everything. 'I was thinking,' Sirius said, keeping his eyes on his plate and tearing apart his sandwich. 'I'd rather celebrate at the weekend. If we do it Wednesday, we'd only have the afternoon, and with Astronomy class at midnight, we might want to sleep. Saturday would be much better.' James looked thoughtful. 'That makes sense. We definitely need an entire day to properly celebrate the birth of a Marauder. What do you want to do?' Sirius glanced up and made eye contact with James briefly, before looking back at his mangled sandwich. 'Can we go to the beach room and make sandcastles? I've never made a sandcastle.' James' smile dropped, and he swallowed, blinked rapidly, took a deep breath and plastered a fresh grin back on his face just in time for Sirius to look up at him. 'I think that sounds like a fantastic idea,' he said. 'We'll make the biggest, most outstanding Marauderly sandcastle that was ever built.' Sirius grinned. Remus felt a thrill of excitement. He didn't remember ever making a sandcastle either, although he assumed he probably had been to the beach before he was bitten. And they were going to celebrate on Saturday when he'd be fully recovered and able to join in. He thanked Merlin for Sirius' vanity that made him want a whole day to celebrate. 'And after curfew, we can hole up in the dorm and play games. We can get snacks from the kitchen first,' Sirius said. 'Or we can sneak out and play games,' James said. 'Even better,' Sirius said, his grin getting impossibly wider. The afternoon passed in a haze of motion. James would not stop pacing around the dorm room, muttering about all the things that might go wrong. Sirius alternated between lounging on his bed with an air of carelessness and rocketing around the room like he had a broomstick stuck up his butt, bothering everyone with his premonitions of doom. Peter sat on his bed with his knees curled up to his chest, rocking back and forth, while occasionally announcing how many detentions they would get if this all went horribly wrong. Remus was the only Marauder who was calm. He knew everything had been set up perfectly. They had considered every potential thing that could go wrong and planned for it. The magic was perfect after the hours they had spent practising. There was nothing to worry about. Also, he was in a lot of pain and that was taking up most of his thoughts. As the hour approached, the Marauder's excitement began to overtake their nerves. Not that that did anything to stop their continuous motion. James continued to pace, only his muttering changed to assertions of how brilliant it was going to be. Sirius went from lounging and rocketing to lounging and bouncing, and his declarations of doom switched to declarations of victory. Peter's rocking turned to jiggling and his announcements to giggles. Remus alone remained calm and quiet, enduring their restlessness in silence. Until he finally broke... 'Please!' he yelled, before taking a deep breath and continuing in a quieter voice, 'Will you all sit down and be quiet for a moment. You're driving me insane.' 'Sorry, Remus,' Sirius said, immediately sitting down on his bed and glaring at James and Peter until James also sat down and Peter stilled his jiggling. 'Thank you,' he said. 'You all need to calm down. If you go down to the feast like this, the teachers will know something's up.' 'He's right,' James said. 'If we want to remain anonymous, we have to act like nothing's wrong.' 'Deep breaths everyone,' Sirius said. They spent a few minutes calming themselves down, and when they all felt ready, they made their way down to the Great Hall. Remus was a little worried about attending but talked himself into it. He really wanted to see the result of all their hard work and lunch hadn't been so bad. By the time he realised his mistake, he was already inside the Great Hall and it was too late to turn back. He would have to grin and bear it. There were three times as many people present as there had been at lunch, and the noise was deafening. His head was aching before he even sat down. They took the same seats they had earlier in the day, and they glanced around, waiting for the show to begin. It only took a minute after the food had appeared for the first belch to sound close enough to their position for them to hear it. A few people in their proximity giggled, and the Marauders grinned at each other. Sirius picked up his own fork and scooped up a large mouthful of mashed potatoes, one of the foods they'd added the belch powder to earlier, and winked at his friends as he put it in his mouth. The others followed suit, knowing if they wanted to avoid suspicion they had to be affected, and soon all four Marauders had joined the majority of the students, belching bubbles of various sizes which floated up to the ceiling. Remus glanced at the teachers. They all looked mystified. Ten minutes later, the festivities kicked up a notch as all the bubbles simultaneously transformed into bright orange bats. A few of the younger students screamed, but the majority laughed as the bats flew around the hall, staying close to the ceiling and performing incredible feats of aerobatics, all while dropping orange and black glitter down over the tables. The glitter floated in the air, sparkling in the candlelight, but vanished before it reached the food. After a couple more minutes had passed, and the air was sufficiently filled with sparkling glitter, the candles floating above the tables drifted higher and away, taking up positions evenly spaced around the circumference of the hall. Music started up, seeming to emanate from the walls themselves. That had been a nice little spell Remus had found quite by accident when looking for the shield charm for the candles. The candles began to sway to the tune before converging in the centre of the hall, high up in the air, creating a blast of flame that shot up towards the ceiling. The bats flew into the flame, each one hitting in time with a pulse of bass, and exploding in a fresh shower of glitter. When all the bats had vanished, the candles spread back out and carried out an intricate dance in time with the music. The students craned their necks up throughout the display and oohed and aahed at appropriate moments. As the last notes came to an end, the candles returned to their original positions, and a message blazed to life on the wall behind the teachers.

Happy Halloween!

We hope you enjoyed the entertainment

from the Hogwarts Marauders

All four house tables broke into applause and cheers. Dumbledore got to his feet and coughed to get everyone's attention. 'What a marvellous display of magic from some mystery benefactors. I'm going to assume that no school rules were broken in the process of setting this up,' he said, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. 'And, as it would seem suitable safety precautions were taken to protect both the audience and the food, no investigation will be made to find the perpetrators.' With that, he sat back down and continued to eat. 'What the hell?' James asked. 'We got in so much trouble for the balloon thing, and they're not even going to investigate this?' Remus rubbed his temples. He really wanted to go and lie down now the show was finished. 'Your balloon thing caused a lot of extra work for the teachers and inconvenienced the students. This did no harm. No one was hurt, there's no mess to clean up, and the food is all fine. No harm, no punishment.' Remus excused himself a few minutes later and returned to the dorm to sleep. He'd enjoyed watching the results of their efforts, but he was paying for it in agonising pain. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his joints jolted with a sharp pain every time he moved them. It was nothing compared to the pain of his coming transformation, though. That month, it was bad. Remus woke up for the first time late on Wednesday afternoon, and he was still injured. He could feel healing lacerations on his stomach, arms and legs and the ache of mending bones. Why hadn't he finished healing yet? Moonset was hours ago. He lay there for ten minutes before Madam Pomfrey bustled in. 'Oh, good, you're awake at last. I was getting worried,' she said. Remus tried to sit up, but it hurt too much so he gave up. 'What happened?' Madam Pomfrey frowned. 'I'm not sure why, but your injuries were very bad this month. You're mostly healed up now, but I want to keep you in overnight, just to make sure.' Remus nodded. It didn't even cross his mind to argue with her. He felt like shit. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to carry him away from the pain. The next time he woke, it was dark. He could see the night sky through the window, reflecting off the surface of the lake, including the moon, so close to full, its image marred by the ripples. He was feeling a lot better and the ridiculous amount of sleep he had had made him feel restless. He pulled himself to a sitting position and tried to decide what to do. Homework? No, it was already finished. And he had no research projects for the Marauders. They hadn't yet discussed what they were going to do for the end of term/Christmas feast. What he really wanted to do was make something for Sirius' birthday. He couldn't buy him a present as he had no money. So something made with his own personal magic would have to do. But what? An idea occurred to him, and he grabbed his bag, pulling out his wand, some parchment and a quill and got to work.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius didn't sleep much the night before his birthday. He was far too worried about Remus. As much as he tried not to think about it, his mind kept conjuring the images from the werewolf books but with Remus' face, contorted in agony, ripping himself apart. It was horrible. And he knew it was even worse for Remus. Wherever he was. As a result, when he woke at six o'clock, he felt like crap and he thanked Merlin that he only had to endure two lessons that morning, one of which was History and could easily be slept through. When James and Peter wished him a happy birthday, he merely grunted and asked them to save it for Saturday. He wasn't going to celebrate without Remus. He was like a kneazle on hot coals all day, waiting for Remus to return. No matter what room he was in, he oriented himself towards the door so he could keep an eye out for him. When they got to Charms class, he was pleased to learn they were working on Alohomora, Sirius wouldn't have to try very hard. He had mastered this spell out of sheer desperation, trying to get to Remus in case he was hurt. Thinking of that night only reminded Sirius that Remus really was hurt, an unknown amount, lying in the hospital wing, and he had to stay away because he wasn't supposed to know. He scowled at the padlock on his desk and jabbed his wand at it. The padlock flew across the room and clattered to the floor at Professor Flitwick's feet. He merely floated it back to Sirius' desk and asked him to try again. Sirius scowled at Professor Flitwick when he turned away. 'Mate, what is up with you today?' James asked. 'It's your birthday, and you're acting like you've just been handed a life sentence in Azkaban. Is it because Remus had to go and see his mum?' It seemed like as good an excuse as any. 'Yeah, I just wish he was here is all.' 'I'm sure he'll be back in time for Saturday, though,' James said, patting him on the shoulder. Sirius offered him a smile. James was doing his best. How was he supposed to know Remus was holed up in the hospital wing, possibly gravely injured? 'Yeah, I hope so.' It didn't even occur to him until well into the afternoon that he hadn't received so much as a letter from his parents, never mind a present. When he did realise, he told himself he didn't care, but deep down it stung. His parents couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge the day he was born. He meant that little to them now. James wandered over to him sometime after dinner. 'You alright, mate? You've barely said a word all afternoon.' Sirius rolled over to face him. 'Yeah. Parents didn't send me anything for my birthday. I know they're mad, but they've never just outright ignored my birthday before.' James sat down on the edge of the bed, and Sirius shuffled over to make room for him. James laid back and put his arm around him, and he snuggled up, putting his head on James' chest. 'Damn, mate. I'm sorry, that totally sucks. Your parents are evil assholes, and they don't deserve an amazing person like you for a son,' he said, squeezing his arm around Sirius' shoulders in a hug. 'Thanks, James,' Sirius whispered. His eyes were burning, but warmth burst to life in his chest. Peter joined them on Sirius' other side, curling up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Sirius lay there for an indeterminable amount of time, wrapped in the warmth of his friend's arms. He was thankful to have found friends that were so physical; their affection was welcome after eleven years of being starved of it. But he didn't feel like he deserved any of it. He began to get really worried when curfew arrived and Remus still hadn't returned. The worst part was, he couldn't show how worried he really was because Remus had told them his mum was sick and he was going home to see her, and hadn't said when he'd be back other than a vague, 'It'll be a day or two.' So, as far as James and Peter knew, there was nothing wrong. He was restless and agitated all through Astronomy and kept turning the telescope from the constellation of Cygnus which they were supposed to be studying, to look at the almost full moon and send it mental waves of hatred for hurting Remus so badly that he needed to spend such a long time in the hospital wing. He wished he could sneak down and see him, but he wasn't supposed to know he was there. If Remus would only trust him enough to tell him, then he could be there every month, but how could he get Remus to trust him? Maybe he could bring up the subject of werewolf rights somehow and let Remus know he wasn't anti-werewolf. But it might scare him if Sirius just randomly started talking about werewolf rights. Urgh, he didn't know what to do. Despite his worry, sleep came easily to him that night, probably because he'd gotten so little the night before, and he slept soundly through until six o'clock when his internal alarm clock--named Walburga--told him it was time to get up. He opened his eyes and glanced over to Remus' bed. Still empty. Where was he? By quarter to ten, Sirius was lounging on his bed, trying to think of an excuse to borrow James' cloak so he could sneak down to the hospital wing, when Remus finally walked through the door. Sirius tried to play it cool, not wanting Remus to notice his anxiety and worry if he knew something, but his relief at seeing he was alive and well was intense. 'You're back!' James said. 'How's your mum?' Remus smiled and limped over to his bed to sit down. Wait. Why was he limping? 'She's much better, thank you. The doctors are worried she might have a relapse, though, so I might have to go back again.' 'What's a doctor?' Sirius asked, and Remus and Peter both laughed. 'It's a muggle version of a medi-witch or wizard,' Remus said. 'Wouldn't a medi-witch be better?' James asked. 'Isn't there a magical cure?' Remus shook his head. 'Most magical cures don't work on muggles. They don't have any innate magic for the magic in the cure to interact with.' 'Damn, that sucks,' James said. 'Muggle medicine is very advanced. The doctors are hopeful she'll be fine,' Remus said with a shrug. Sirius couldn't hold back any longer. He needed to know. 'What happened to your leg?' he blurted. Remus glanced at him. 'Fell down the stairs. I'll go ask Madam Pomfrey to look at it after Transfiguration.' That confused Sirius for a moment. Hadn't he just left the hospital wing? But then he realised Remus must be expecting it to finish healing soon, and he needed an excuse for his limp to disappear. He must have been very badly injured to still be hurt now. From what Sirius had seen after the disastrous flying lesson, he healed really fast. 'I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Sirius,' Remus said. 'I really wanted to be here.' Sirius waved his apology away. 'Don't worry about it. We're celebrating Saturday, anyway.' 'I know, I'm looking forward to it,' Remus said with a small smile. Remus disappeared for the entire free period after Transfiguration, but he rejoined them for lunch, minus his limp, and ate with them in the Great Hall, which put Sirius in a fantastic mood for the rest of the day. He watched Remus during Potions and could tell he was struggling with the smells in the room, but with Peter's gentle guidance, he managed to produce a reasonable cough potion, and Sirius felt a rush of pride for his friend when Slughorn gave him an E. After dinner, Remus announced he was going to the library to get his homework finished and wouldn't be able to make it to Art Club that evening. Sirius was disappointed. He enjoyed spending that hour alone with Remus every week, but he understood that the extended hospital stay would cause him to fall behind, so he tried not to show it and went alone. It was nowhere near as much fun without him. Studying the gorgon in defence on Friday spawned a lot of Slytherin related snake-hair jokes, and Remus once again disappeared off to the library during the morning free period. But after dinner he announced he was all caught up with his work and spent the evening with them in the common room, eating the remainder of the post-moon chocolate Sirius had produced the day before and making plans for Saturday. Sirius had no idea how they managed to wake before him, but at one minute to six on Saturday morning, he was awoken by his fellow Marauders standing around his bed and singing as loud as they possibly could.

Happy Sirius day to you

Happy Sirius day to you

Happy Sirius day dearest Sirius

Happy Sirius day to YOOOOOU!

The moment they finished singing, red and gold glitter showered down on him from his bed canopy. Sirius sat up in bed, grinning so hard his jaw hurt. 'Sirius day? I like the sound of that.' James grinned back at him. 'Today is all about you. Anything you want to do, we do. But first, presents!' 'You got me presents?' Sirius asked, shifting onto his knees on the bed and bouncing a little. 'Gimme!' After running to their trunks, James and Peter climbed onto the foot of the bed and Remus perched at the head next to him, each of them holding a parcel wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a gold ribbon. Sirius shifted over to make more room. James handed him the first gift and Sirius ripped it open. It was a wizard art set in a beautiful mahogany case. There was an assortment of brushes and quills, all engraved with the words Chief Artist, a selection of paints and inks; some that changed between two colours; some that would shift on the page to simulate movement; and some that would flash between many colours or shades, as well as a packet of enchanted canvasses and a fold-up easel. Sirius adored it and couldn't wait to try it out. 'This is amazing, mate,' he said, pulling out a bottle of ink to examine it. He looked up to meet James' eyes. 'Thank you.' James looked pleased with his response to the present. 'I expect an awesome painting from you soon. We need something good to decorate the dorm.' 'You'll get one,' Sirius said, closing the case and leaning over to put it on the floor by his bed, out of the way. 'Who's next?' Peter handed him his gift. 'I couldn't afford anything as good as James, but I hope you like it.' 'It's from you. Of course, I'll like it,' Sirius said, tearing off the paper to reveal a selection of sweets from Honeydukes. 'Excellent! It's always nice to have a stash of sweets.' He immediately pulled out a packet of ice mice and offered them around. 'Thanks, Pete.' Peter beamed at him and took one of the proffered sweets. Remus held out his parcel. 'I didn't have any money, so I made you this myself.' 'Thanks, Remus,' Sirius said, taking the package and smiling at him. 'Knowing you, I bet this is going to be brilliant.' Remus just shrugged. Sirius pulled the paper off to reveal a rough wooden box with a hinged lid and intricate patterns carved all across the surface. He looked up. 'It's beautiful. Thank you. You made this?' Remus nodded. 'The box is a transfigured stick, and I made the hinges from some old quills. Open it.' Sirius did so and gasped. The inside of the lid was dotted with twinkling, pale green lights, and one bright-red light, on a background of jet black. Sirius pointed. 'That's Canis Major. And that,' he said, pointing at the single red light, 'is me.' The only red star in a sea of Slytherin green, he thought. Remus nodded. 'It's a small section of the night sky as seen from Hogwarts on the night you were born.' 'Are you serious?' James opened his mouth, and Sirius pointed at him. 'Don't.' James shut his mouth again and Sirius turned back to Remus. 'Fucking hell, Remus. That must have taken you hours to figure out.' 'Just a few.' He smiled. 'If you channel some of your magic into it to activate the charm, then it will only open for you. I thought you could hide things in it.' Sirius shook his head. 'I was wrong,' he said, his eyes burning. 'This isn't brilliant, it's incredible. Thank you, Remus. I want to give you a hug, but I know you'd hate that. So just have the sentiment. I love it.' He grinned. James clapped his hands and chuckled. 'Well, way to over-shadow our presents without spending a knut. I can't wait for my birthday.' 'No one has overshadowed anyone,' Sirius said, crossing his arms. 'I love all my presents equally.' 'You're insane then,' James said, jumping off the bed. 'Remus' was obviously the best. Now come on, lazybones, we've got sandcastles to build.' Sirius grinned and put his new box carefully on his bedside table. He'd only been awake half an hour and the day was already the best day of his life. They arrived at the beach room an hour later after scoffing down as much food as they could in the Great Hall. There was no one else there so early on a Saturday morning, and they made the most of it. Using a little charm that Remus had looked up in preparation, they each built a sandcastle big enough to stand inside on different parts of the beach, and then they staged a war. They transfigured grains of sand into projectiles and used depulso and wingardium leviosa to fling them at each other's castles and defend their own from attack. The rules were simple. When your castle was destroyed, you were out. In reality, it didn't quite go that way. James' castle was taken out first by Peter using a sneak attack from behind, but Sirius--ever the noble hero--offered him refuge in his own fortress. Outraged at the blatant disregard for the rules, Remus and Peter teamed up to take them down. Sirius' castle fell quickly under the continuous barrage from two directions. Making a snap decision, Remus called for his now homeless friends to join him, and together the three of them combined forces to take down Peter's castle. With three against one, it didn't take long for Peter's castle to dissolve into a pile of sand, and Remus emerged victorious as the only Marauder with his castle still standing, albeit a little worse for wear after the battle. By the time their game was over, they had a small audience of fellow students who asked them for the spell to make the giant sandcastles so they could play too. Remus was more than happy to teach it to them. And so the year of the Hogwarts sand wars began. When it was time for lunch, they left the noisy, crowded beach-room and headed to the entrance hall. 'Would you mind if we all ate in the kitchen today?' Remus asked. Sirius gave him a sideways glance. His face was relaxed, and he didn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort. And the full moon was three nights ago. 'Sure, why not? It'll be cosier, anyway.' Remus smiled and led the way down into the dungeons and to the painting of a bowl of fruit. He waved Sirius through the door first, and when he entered the kitchen, Breen scurried over, bowed low and said, 'Happy Birthday, Master Sirius. Please follows me.' Sirius turned around and raised an eyebrow at his friends, who were all grinning like madmen, before following the house-elf through a door, down a maze of corridors and into a small room that was decked out in red and gold banners. There was a medium-sized table in the middle of the room, surrounded by four chairs and covered with plates of delicious smelling food. In the very centre was a small chocolate cake, just the right size for four growing boys, with twelve candles waiting to be lit. 'I don't know what to say,' Sirius said. James whooped. 'We did it. He's lost the power of speech!' Sirius smacked him around the back of the head. 'Shut up,' he said. Then he wrapped him in a hug, released him, hugged Peter, paused in front of Remus, not quite knowing how to show his appreciation, before deciding to just point at him. 'Thanks, you guys.' Breen left them to it, and they crowded around the table and dug into the birthday feast. Twenty minutes later, Breen returned to light the candles, and they sang another rousing chorus of Happy Sirius Day before enjoying the mouth-watering cake. Stuffed full to bursting, they returned to their dorm for an afternoon of exploding snap, chess and gobstones. All things considered, it was the best birthday of Sirius' life, and he was already looking forward to next year when he curled up in bed to sleep. The next morning, Sirius was about ready to strangle James within fifteen minutes of waking up. It was the first game of the Quidditch season, and to make matters worse, it was the most important one of the season. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. James was being unbearable. He had forced them all to dress in Gryffindor colours. Originally, he had asked Remus to make them red lion robes to wear, but Remus had pointed out that would ruin their anonymity, so they settled for just wearing red and gold. He then made Peter paint all their faces, except for Remus who did his own, and they headed down to breakfast, with James' continuous chatter about the players filling their ears. The Great Hall was deafening. The whole school seemed to be present, and with twice as much energy as normal. Remus took one look and announced he was eating in the kitchen. Sirius didn't blame him. As they entered the Hall, Sirius glanced up at the ceiling to check the weather. Clear and sunny, perfect conditions. He hoped to Merlin, Gryffindor would win. The idea of James if they lost didn't bear thinking about. After breakfast, they met back up with Remus and made their way to the Gryffindor section of the stands. They took seats right at the back, but the end seat of the back row was already taken, so Remus sat between Sirius and James. Sirius stole glances at Remus throughout the match, and he could tell he was having a hard time with the noise level. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and he flinched every time the crowd roared with excitement or disappointment. There was nothing Sirius could do about it though, so he concentrated on the game and tried not to be too rowdy. It was hard, though, when the Gryffindor team scored over and over again. They were on fire! When the two Seekers suddenly swept into a dive towards the Slytherin goal, Sirius leapt to his feet with everyone else, caught up in the excitement and screaming at the top of his lungs. "AND KING HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!" the commentator roared. The crowd went crazy! Jumping up and down and screaming with joy. Suddenly the person next to Sirius shoved into him, hard. Sirius stumbled, and putting his arms out to save himself, fell into Remus. Remus crashed to the ground with Sirius on top of him and he screamed in absolute horror. Sirius had never heard a sound like it. It drilled into his soul and turned his blood to ice. He was frozen for a split second before he scrambled to get up. To get off of Remus, who was still screaming. 'No, no. Get off. Oh Gods, no.' As he put his hands on the ground to push himself up, his left hand brushed up against Remus' hand ever so slightly, and he jerked it away quickly, hoping Remus was too out of it to feel the contact. He managed to get to his feet and realised everyone in their vicinity was staring at them. 'Alright. Shows over,' he snapped. 'Bugger off and celebrate.' James and Peter took over getting rid of the gawkers, and Sirius crouched down next to Remus, keeping his distance. Remus had curled up into a ball and was rocking back and forth, repeating the same words as before. 'No, no. Oh Gods, no. Please, no.' 'Remus?' Sirius said. Remus' eyes snapped to his. 'Did you touch me? Did you touch my skin?' he asked, his voice desperate. Sirius swallowed. Then he looked him right in the eye, and calling on his many years of experience, he lied his goddamned ass off. 'No, Remus. I swear, by some miracle I didn't. I promise.' Remus relaxed slightly and breathed out a sigh of relief. 'Oh thank Merlin,' he whispered. -o-o-o-o-

Extract from The Official Marauders Notebook

Notes passed between James and Remus during Transfiguration on Thursday morning, and later removed from the notebook and burned.

Remus, so glad you're back and your mum is okay. I was wondering if you could alter the glitter spell to rain from Sirius' bed canopy and make it Gryffindor colours? - James Thanks, mate. I can probably do that, but why? - Remus For his birthday! I want it to be really amazing. You know his parents didn't even send him a letter? - James Gods, really? The bastards! I'll find a way to make it happen. Anything else I can do? - Remus Can you find a spell that will let us make really huge sandcastles? Like, big enough to stand inside? I have an idea for a game we can play... - James Sounds intriguing, I'll do my best - Remus

Also, do you think the house-elves would let us have a little dinner party in the kitchen at lunchtime? - James I think they'd be delighted to set that up, I'll ask Breen. You're a really great friend, James. You know that? - Remus I am, aren't I? - James.

Chapter 22

insecurities.

summary ⟶ Jinyoung wasn’t the only one who had eyes on his bodyguard and Jackson had his own moment with his own bodyguard.

timeline ⟶ December 2018

characters : The Bloody Roses, Got7, Stray Kids

❝ I want to apologize for what I did back there. ❞

Jinyoung stared at his glass of wine, twirling it while frowning and sighing a little as he glances towards Jackson seeing him leaning towards his bodyguard, earning a frown from Chaeun. 

As a result, Jackson pouts seeing her boring reaction.

Turning away, this time he sees Mark having a serious conversation with Ahrin. 

Out of his members' interaction with their own bodyguard, Jinyoung finds Ahrin and Mark's relationship interesting.

They looked like an 'only business' couple, but he knew what is the older hyung is thinking.

The look he gave to Ahrin wasn't 'only business' kind of look. 

It was obvious that Mark got lost in Ahrin's eyes.

With a small grin, Jinyoung eyes stopped towards Youngjae who was in the corner of the room, with Yeonji. 

What made Jinyoung smile proudly was seeing Youngjae's jacket on her.

Jinyoung has eyes and he truly feels that their personal bodyguards are wearing revealing clothes. 

But seeing how some of the girls looked confident and comfortable made Jinyoung relax a bit.

He nearly offered Eunhee his jacket seeing her bare shoulder although it was covered by a thin material.

Knowing how introvert Youngjae is, Jinyoung knew that he was the one who pulled Yeonji to the corner, Jinyoung was thankful towards Yeonji that she didn't leave the 3rd youngest alone in the corner, as they began starting their own conversation.

Jinyoung looked away from the two, realizing a few other people were missing from his sight. 

Where are the maknaes?

Jiyoung looked around the hall, then seeing a familiar group who was somehow being the center of attention and he can't but to let out a chuckle, quickly taking out his phone to capture the moment.

Bambam and Yugyeom were at the dance floor, apparently slow dancing with their bodyguards when the music was not a slow song, in fact, the song that was played is poker face, which is a synth-pop/dance-pop genre.

"They know how to have fun."

Jinyoung turned towards the voice who belongs to Jaebeom who was now beside him, holding onto a wine glass, chuckling towards where the group is.

"Well, they are the maknaes, hyung. What do you expect?" Jinyoung stated as he looked towards the maknaes. 

He wished that he was more open like how Bambam and Yugyeom is. They live like there is no tomorrow.

"You can join them if you want," Jaebeom suggested and Jinyoung frowns to hear what the older one said. He faced Jaebeom with a weird look on his face.

"I would love to but I know I will get kicked out by either Bambam or Yugyeom, hyung. Unless you join me," smirked Jinyoung, and this time, it was Jaebeom's turn to look at him weirdly, shaking his head aggressively.

"No thanks," mumbled Jaebeom before taking a sip of his glass of wine, earning a chuckle from Jinyoung. 

Jaebeom was about to continue his words when his eyes turned towards Jinyoung's back to see a group of familiar boys and two very familiar girls.

"Oh.. Straykids is here!" Jaebeom beamed, his eyes traveled towards Bang Chan but soon, his eyes moved towards a specific someone who was laughing while turning one of the members.

Jaebeom couldn't remember when was the last time how jealousy felt, and this was his first.

Seeing how Jaebeom expression change within a second, the first thing Jinyoung see was his own bodyguard smiling while talking to Straykids's leader, and when Jinyoung turned towards Bang Chan, he let out a small smirk, reading Bang Chan's hidden feelings with just how he shows his body language.

Bang Chan likes her, it was obvious. 

Jinyoung scoff as he looks down, not to be cocky but he knows who Eunhee has fallen to, though she tried her best not to show her emotions but failing when Jinyoung decided to tease her whenever they are together.

Somehow, Straykids were standing in front of JJP, as they nervously smiled towards JJP.

Eunhee glanced towards Jinyoung and her eyes enlarge to meet his gaze, and strangely Jinyoung looked a little unhappy, though he tried to hide it but failed.

Her gaze moved towards Jaebeom who had his eyes somewhere and Eunhee instantly knows which direction he is looking at. 

Eunhee slightly turned behind to see the clueless Haejin talking to Jisung and Felix.

Are they.. jealous?  

Eunhee shakes her thoughts away, turning towards Bang Chan. 

"I'll go find N—

"She's with Bambam, over there." Jinyoung cuts Eunhee off, gesturing towards the dance floor to see the 4 of them having the time of their lives, slow dancing to an upbeat song.

"Why are the hyungs and noonas slow dancing to 'DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love....? Which is an upbeat song...." Eunhee could hear how confuse Jeongin is, hearing the other members giggling towards where the 4 of them are.

Eunhee looked towards Bang Chan, as she caught him staring at her. With a slight smirk, Eunhee decided to tease Bang Chan, raising an eyebrow. 

"You and I know how weird your cousin is, so I'll call—

Eunhee was about to turn away when she felt tight grips on her arms, but surprisingly she sees two hands holding onto her arm.

Raising both eyebrows, she looked to the owner of the familiar hands. Both Jinyoung and Bang Chan hold onto her arm, looking desperate.

Eunhee turned towards Jinyoung, giving her a pleading look. 

For the first time, Eunhee can't read Jinyoung's expression.

Realizing what the two guys were doing also hearing both of their own members telling to let go, both of their hands retreated slowly.

"Eunhee-ah, go call Nara here and boys! Go help yourselves! The maknaes are not allowed to drink any alcohol!"

"Aww noona! Come one!" Thanks to Haejin breaking the atmosphere, the boys started to scatter around, including Eunhee as she made her way towards the dance floor, avoiding Jinyoung's gaze.

"What was that all about?" Jaebeom muttered towards Jinyoung who was looking at his body guard's figure slowly fading into the crowds of men in suits.

"I don't even know, hyung."

But what Jinyoung knows that he is not the only one who is fighting for her.

"I saw what happen."

A glass of water handed towards Eunhee, seeing Nara with a small smile. Eunhee looked behind the younger one, not seeing Bambam with her.

"Where's Bambam?" questioned Eunhee, and Nara gestured to where Bambam is, seeing him with the others which is Straykids and Got7 plus the other girls.

"What happen?" Eunhee raises an eyebrow towards Nara while accepting the glass of water, with a teasing smirk. Nara shakes her head, sighing a little.

"With Jinyoung and Bang Chan grabbing your hand at the same time..?" stated Nara and Eunhee's eyes immediately fell towards her own glass, avoiding the younger one's gaze.

"It was obvious that the two of them likes you, well too obvious for us girls to know," commented Nara and Eunhee frowns, truthfully not having the mood to talk about it.

She didn't like to express her feelings towards her members, she thinks that she is being a burden towards them.

Eunhee shrugs as she puts away her glass. "I'm gonna get some fresh air," mumbled Eunhee, walking passed Nara who looked confused.

She thanked the gods that it was dark outside, a perfect place for Eunhee to clear out her mind and getting some fresh air too.

Eunhee was confused with herself, why is she bothered with the both of them liking her?

She was not too bothered with Bang Chan liking her, she sees him as a little brother and she knows by now Bang Chan would get the hint since Nara came and talked to her.

But it was different when it comes to Jinyoung.

Is it because of the damn rules?

Is it because he is an idol?

Is it because it is impossible to date an idol?

Or is it because I'm too afraid to love deeply till it bleeds?

This was the first time that Eunhee felt insecure, too insecure that she questions herself. 

Shaking away her thoughts, Eunhee's focus began to shift somewhere else.

From far, Eunhee could see something shining through the bushes, slowly moving her arms towards her chest.

All the girls hid their armed possession in their bras, and it is a portable gun for Eunhee. 

She was about to grab the gun when she felt someone's presence behind her, and she knows very well who it was, given by the scented perfume.

Her hands drop back to her sides, knowing it wasn't the right time.

Eunhee watches the figure, retreating and she could see a gun on his hand, or maybe she is imagining things. 

The figure retreated because it wasn't only the presence behind her. She sees a few men in suits on her sides taking a puff smoke while chatting in their own groups.

She turned around to meet Jinyoung eye to eye. 

"Well hello there," Eunhee tilted her head, teasing Jinyoung a bit causing him to roll his eyes.

"What are you doing here all alone anyway? It's cold out here," said Jinyoung softly.

Eunhee watched what Jinyoung was about to do next, as he took out his sparkly blazer, putting it towards Eunhee as it covered her shoulders.

"I was just... taking a fresh air.," mumbled Eunhee as she turned behind, looking towards where she saw the figure, confirming that he was gone. 

Jinyoung followed where Eunhee was gazing at with a slight frown.

"Eunhee-ah.." called Jinyoung, earning an acknowledging hum from Eunhee, turning towards Jinyoung.

"I want to apologize for what I did back there," Jinyoung confessed as he started thinking as soon as Eunhee walked away back then.

He didn't want to make Eunhee feel uncomfortable nor making things more awkward.

Eunhee let out a soft smile, holding onto his blazer closer to her shoulders. 

"You didn't do anything, Jinyoung. Don't apologize, unless you regret what you did." teased Eunhee with a grin, Jinyoung is slightly taken aback with her response.

Jinyoung didn't regret what he did, he just wished he did something different than grabbing her arm.

He could feel his lips curved upwards, his eyes still focus onto hers but he quickly took a glance towards her lips then to her hands.

He wished that he could just give her a quick peck, but Jinyoung didn't want to risk it. He knew that it was too soon.

"It's getting too cold. Let's go in." Grabbing her hand, Jinyoung pulled along the confused Eunhee with him, entering the party hall with a broad smile.

"Jackson, this is embarrassing."

"Aww, c'mon noona! Admit it that this is fun!"

"Yugyeom, we are slow dancing to love you like a love song which is a freakin' upbeat song!"

"Chaeunnie, I know you are trying to distract yourself from making eye contact with me."

Jackson was right. Chaeun is trying to distract herself from making eye-contact with him.

She can't help but wonder how Nara and Hyunji could not feel embarrassed or feel shy making eye contact with Bambam and Yugyeom.

Here she was looking elsewhere other than Jackson's intense eye-contact while smiling eye to eye.

Chaeun sighs softly, feeling Jackson's grip tighten on her hand, trying to reassure her. 

He was being gentle with her, one of his hands on her waist and the other on her hand.

Jackson knows that his bodyguard is avoiding eye contact with him for about an hour already.

"Chaeun-ah, look at me."

Chaeun shakes her head, her gaze still downwards. Feeling impatient, Jackson forced her to look at him, by gently slightly lifting up her chin, making her eyes to lock with him.

Jackson made eye contact with her, letting out his squirtle smile and he saw Chaeun's cheeks turning red.

"You look so beautiful, Chaeun-ah," Jackson mumbled slightly, seeing Chaeun's reaction as she quickly turns away.

Jackson gasps a little, seeing his bodyguard avoiding him again. "Why are you always avoiding my eye contact, Chaeunnie?! Am I that ugly to you?!?"

Chaeun whipped her head as fast as lightning as towards Jackson as soon as she heard what he said.

Seeing how Chaeun reacted, Jackson was obviously taken aback.

"Ugly? You're way different than that."

"Are you saying I am hideous?!"

"Jackson Wang!"

"What?! You said 'way different than that'!" Jackson yelled slightly and Chaeun can't help but let out a frustrated sigh, as she roughly pulled back her hand while trying to walk away from him.

Sometimes Chaeun doesn't get Jackson.

But Jackson was fast enough to catch her by pulling her arm slightly but firmly, causing her to land on his arms.

Both them were inches away, Chaeun could feel Jackson's hands gripping onto her waist and her arms somehow landed on his shoulder.

"What I meant was you are really good-looking, Jackson. Every girl would be jealous to be in my position right now." Chaeun voiced out, her eyes locked with his, and this time Jackson could literally feel his heart beating a little fast and he could feel his cheeks turning warm.

A smile was being formed on Jackson's lips and he was about to continue his words, but his eyes traveled behind Chaeun's as he slightly pulled her towards him and quickly wrapping his hands around her.

"Jack—

A few apologies were being heard behind Chaeun, earning a slight frown from her.

Jackson, on the other hand, was glaring towards the group of men who were about to bump onto them, but mostly towards Chaeun.

Jackson's eyes slowly widen, realizing what position they are into, but strangely, he didn't feel his bodyguard pulling away.

Instead, he could feel her own heartbeat on him.

The feelings are mutual, Chaeun-ah.

"Chaeun?" Jackson softly called, and that's when she pulled away from him, seeing her cheeks tinted red. Jackson lightly chuckles, seeing how cute Chaeun is.

His eyes moved towards Chaeun's lower parts, as he frowns.

"Aren't you cold, Chaeunnie?" asked Jackson and Chaeun shakes her head, looking at Jackson confusingly.

Earlier, the first thing Jackson thought when seeing Chaeun wearing the black revealing dress, he wanted to stick to her closely, protecting her at all cost, protecting her from the eyes of other men.

She was too precious for him, but he knew that his bodyguard can take care of herself.

Jackson looks at Chaeun, before taking out his blazer, wrapping Chaeun's body.

Seeing Jackson's action made Chaeun look at him with awe, also feeling his warmth around her shoulder and chest.

"I didn't want other guys to look at your body. I already caught a few of them stealing glances at you." Jackson leans towards her, whispering to her side while feeling his grip on one side of her waist. 

Chaeun scoff, then looking at her surroundings, and Jackson was right.

One of them just instantly look away, as soon as Chaeun caught him.

"Thank you, Seunnie."

With that, Chaeun planted a peck on his cheeks softly as she walks away from Jackson, leaving the shocked Jackson in the middle of the dance floor, realizing what his bodyguard had done, touching at the spot where she pecked.

Chaeun just kissed my cheeks!

"Chaeunnie! Wait up!"

masterlist : Got7 Bodyguard Au

Unforeseen circumstances | MYG - Chapter 01

pairing: Min Yoongi x OC

genre/warnings: fluff, angst, yoongi having no chill whatsoever

words: 4181

Summary: They never had a chance to begin with, but they were young and in love, they thought they knew better.

Lee Yoonah’s parents had carefully planned her whole life from the moment of her conception. Min Yoongi was the one variable that they never counted on, but that was corrected in due time, just before their graduation in college, or so they thought.

Or: In which life doesn’t respect no one’s plans.

(please read the prologue first)

Chapter 01:

5 years later

Kim Seongjoo was a man with many admirable qualities. He was smart, accomplished in his field of work, had a good relationship with his family, could speak four languages, and was remarkably handsome.

Any woman would be honored to become his wife. At least that was what her mother kept repeating.

Unfortunately for Seongjoo, even when combined, those qualities weren’t enough to redeem his biggest two flaws, as assessed by Lee Yoonah.

The first and most relevant right then: he just stood her up on what was supposed to be their first 'private' date, the one time they would finally be able to meet without their respective families interference. The second, manageable one: she wasn’t attracted to him at all.

Rereading the text of the half-assed apology her 'fiancé apparent' sent her, Yoonah let out a resigned sigh and ordered a drink. She had left work earlier than usual, and dressed up prettily for this. However, truth be told, Yoonah had no tears to shed over Seongjoo's inability to follow his own schedule. In all sincerity, she was even pleased by this turn of events, thanks to which she could enjoy a couple of fancy drinks by herself.

She’s one gin and tonic and a half through the night, contemplating on using her father’s corporative credit card to pay for this frustrated business meeting when the universe gets bored with her passive attitude towards life and decides to shake things up.

He sees her first, all breath leaving his body. It has been five years since Min Yoongi last laid eyes on the woman that, in all honesty, was still the love of his life.

Time had been generous with her. The girly roundness of her features had subdued slightly into more defined lines, and her hair was shorter, the midnight black tresses stopping under her collarbones. Yoonah was even lovelier than he remembered, a fucking angel of misery, consuming his whole existence just by sitting there, decked in her ivory lace dress.

Yoongi stood frozen in the middle of his favorite bar, trying to discern of the wave of feelings that overwhelm his senses, and the fight or flight response kicked in. His brain takes charge over his body, deciding on flighting the scene. Fortunately, he manages just one step towards the door before the overly friendly, foreigner bartender, Mark, notices him and waves happily calling his full name.

“Min Yoongi-ssi!”

Yoonah’s head turns towards him so fast that he is sure she will experience some minor case of whiplash. Her drink almost slips from her hand, and her doe eyes widen comically. The whole scene makes his heart constrict in his chest.

Her panicked gaze is too much to ignore, so Yoongi suppresses the urge to run away and decides to seize the unexpected opportunity to hear her voice again. He controls his face and offers what he hopes to be a soft smile, waving absentmindedly at Mark to bring his usual whiskey while walking to the stool she occupies.

Yoonah’s mind works in overdrive, she can feel the blood rushing through her body at a speed that can’t be healthy.

Yoongi looks like the polished version of the boy she met in college, and the familiarity of his looks is almost too much for her heart to take.

His hair is bleached blonde again, but a shade lighter than the one she remembers. His ears are still pierced, but now he sports three silver hoops in each lobe. Instead of flannels, he’s wearing a pair of retro-styled horn-rimmed glasses, paired with a black turtleneck sweater and an elegant coat.

He throws a shy smile her way, and she feels like her ears will combust, but somehow manages to smirk back, raising her hand in greeting. She genuinely hopes for Yoongi to speak first because she can’t find her voice.

“Hey, Yoonah-ah… How’re you doing?!” He croaks, voice low, hand outstretched.

If someone were to tell her a few hours ago that the convenience date imposed on her would bail, and that she would end her night carrying a mildly awkward conversation with Min Yoongi, Yoonah would suggest for the person to have its head checked.

Not even in her wildest dreams, she would consider that a reunion with her ex-boyfriend would go so smoothly. She had spent a good part of those last four years musing over their parting words, the bitterness in his tear stained face when he accused her of not fighting for them. She meekly carried the weight of his disappointment, accepting the worst part of their breakup as a fact: Yoongi would never forgive her for not standing up against her parents. For selling them short.

But there he was, calmly catching up to the events of her life’s past years, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of his dainty lips whenever she averted his feline eyes as if the past did not affect him at all, as if their break up had resulted from a friendly agreement.

Maybe it felt like that to Yoongi by then, she mused. Yoonah had heard about his accomplishments, even amongst her stuffy colleagues at the magazine he was known, the ‘genius producer Suga’, still using the same pseudonym he adopted in their last year at university, a guy who was reinventing the rap and hip-hop scenario in Korea.

Perhaps after conquering everything he’d ever dreamt of, he saw what they had lived as non-consequential. The thought left a sour taste in Yoonah's mouth, and that was probably what prompted her to voice her worries. Either that or the arrival of her third drink of the night.

“Am I forgiven?” she blurted out just to immediately regret it and blush furiously.

Yoongi stopped in the middle of his update about the newest restaurant Kim Seokjin was opening, clearly surprised.

“Why would I have to forgive you for anything?” he asks in confusion, he reaches to touch her before thinking better about it and retreating.

“As I recall it, you weren’t very pleased with my choices the last time we spoke…” she answers without meeting his eyes.

“Ah...Yoonah-ah…”

Yoongi removes his glasses, momentarily hiding his face in his hand, ears flaming red. He really did not expect her to bring out the elephant in the room. He had this silly hope that maybe they would carry on talking about amenities and, in a perfect world, part ways as friends. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind. But then, Yoonah had made a habit of messing up with his plans from the moment when they first spoke.

“I’m very sorry about what I said back then… really. I hoped that maybe you had forgotten about my outburst...” He takes a long sip of his drink, signaling Mark for a refill. If they were discussing their past, he would need it.

“Look, it wasn’t your fault, Yoonah-ah… It took me a while to finally understand it, to accept that I was to blame... I knew about your parents' arrangement from the beginning and still wanted to try my luck at changing their ways… Fuck, truth be told, I begged you to give it a shot. You warned me, and still, I went out of my way to convince you that it would work out, didn’t I?” He sighs, touching his earrings in distress.

She stares in utter and complete shock, trying to make sense of the words that keep coming out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Yoonah… I’ve never meant for you to carry this guilty alone…” He says, embarrassment coloring both his face and his voice. “Ah, shit, I should’ve known better…”

“You don’t hate me, then?” She finally answers, searching for confirmation in his eyes.

“Hate you? Of course not! God, Yoonah! I couldn’t hate you even when I wanted to!” Yoongi almost falls from his stool at the complete absurd of her question, this time his hand reaches for hers on its own accord, caressing her cold fingers absently.

The sudden lightness in her chest leaves Yoonah feeling slightly dizzy, and she convinces herself that this is the reason why she tightens her grip on Yoongi’s hand, relishing in the warmth of his touch.

For the past four years the memory of the hurt and despise on his eyes during their last meeting was such a constant weight in her conscience that Yoona simple forgot how it was to live without the worry.

The producer could almost see the worry being lifted from her shoulders, the light returning to her eyes warming his insides, feeding his urge to simply hold her closer. Even if they were never to talk again after this night, Yoongi felt grateful that he had the chance to correct this misunderstanding.

That warmth is what prompts him to finally ask the question that had kept him awake for countless nights throughout those years.

“Have you ever heard any of my music, Yoonah-ah?”

His guiltiest pleasure was trying to talk to her using the idols voices, sending encrypted messages through his lyrics, with the foolish hope that she would listen to them and maybe, by some miracle, try and reach out for him.

It was a long shot, and it wasn’t a healthy habit, he was aware of that. Kim Namjoon, one of his best friends and co-worker, had noticed it years ago and tried to convince Yoongi that it was a masochist practice, but the producer just argued that he couldn’t really control his inspirations. In the end, he won the argument. After all, the music he made from his own angst was recognized as his best and awarded accordingly.

The true shock for him was seeing hurt flooding Yoonah’s eyes at his question, and he watched anxiously as she fidgeted with her hair and took a long sip of her drink before finally whispering.

“I’ve listened to the first one… Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding them ever since…”

Yoongi was sure it would have been better had her slapped him. He would have her listening to some of his raciest lyrics and being pissed any day rather than the one song she admitted to knowing.

But of course the universe could spare him no mercy, and amongst the three years worth of desperate love pleas he sent her way, the one message that reached Yoonah was the raw note written by this freshly heartbroken version of himself, filled with misdirected anger.

The lyrics to that particular song haunted him quite often. It was the demo that got him signed up as a producer in his present company, the creation that opened all the doors for him, and yet, the one he regretted daily. Because, at the end of the day, he knew Lee Yoonah, and dreaded the exact scenario he's now facing: The one person he never really meant to hurt took his harsh words by heart.

Yoongi reaches for his phone without a second thought, while the fingers of his free hand start roaming Yoonah's forearm in an unstudied caress, seeking to soothe her pain at the best of his ability, all property be damned.

Yoonah finally raises her head at that,  all nervous ends on her body jumping into high alert while her eyes stay trained on his healing touch, so familiar even after all those years.

Unaware of that, Yoongi focuses on opening his Evernote and scrolls through the app, a trademark frown signaling his concentration until it's replaced by a short-lived satisfied expression, that turns into gravity once he looks back towards the woman in front of him.

“Yoonah, I need you to know that I don’t really feel like the boy who wrote that song. I was hurting, and I was lost… We had so much planned. We were going to spend the weekend with my family so they could get to know you better, remember? Against my better judgment, I had this whole plan for our lives together… And suddenly everything changed…” He scratches his ear, voice getting softer “At the time I felt like someone stole my future, and I couldn’t see that you’re wronged as well… I regret it so much.”

At that, he slides the phone towards Yoonah.  She immediately recognizes the title displayed at the top of the document. She has conditioned herself to check the team behind every single song released by the artists signed under the same label as Yoongi before listening to them, feeling like it was always better to be safe than sorry. This one is fairly new, a ballad from a popular solist, that her colleagues from the magazine raved about for a few weeks.

“I’ve tried to apologize, you know? I’ve written you so many lyrics over the years, using other peoples' voices to tell you everything I should've told you that night…" His eyes pierce hers in an almost desperate plea, and his fingers grip slightly at her sleeve’s fabric "I know I have no right to ask you this, but please read at least one of them, to understand what I meant. Just this one?”

Deep down she knows it isn’t a good idea, that this whole conversation is actually a terrible idea, but she completely ignores this notion. Because Yoonah knows she doesn’t want to live another minute with the belief that the lyrics of his first famous song were Yoongi’s last words to her.

Her eyes scam the lyrics faster than her heart and brain can process them, and she needs to read the whole thing thrice before finally absorbing Yoongi’s words. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, but surely enough, it wasn’t anything as raw as the emotions bared on the screen.

The man portrayed by the song dwells with being unable to forget someone, he struggles with his hope of finally meeting that person again and his knowledge that this would hurt him. He regrets deeply that he’d tainted the memories of their relationship, and he wonders if he can be forgiven. There was too much left unsaid and he fears it is too late for apologies.

When Yoonah finishes her reading, Yoongi is staring at her, anxiety written in every line of his body. Sometime along the way he had retrieved his hand, that now fidgets with the turtle-neck from his sweater.

“This was inspired by me?” She finally asks, her eyes stinging suspiciously.

“No. It was entirely written for you.” He goes back to twisting his earring “Too much?”

“No… Maybe? I just wasn’t expecting this at all… I don’t know what to say…” and it’s true, she feels lost, it’s too much.

The silence stretches between them and she goes back at scanning the lyrics, desperate for something to anchor her turbulent thoughts. Yoongi awaits in apparent patience, his impassive mask enough to fool anyone watching them from afar.

“You really don’t remember our last kiss?” Yoonah finally questions, embarrassment and incredulity coloring her features, and Yoongi is clearly surprised by that turn in the subject.

“No… Do you?”

“Yes… It was on the day my mother gave me the ultimatum. You were finishing your demo and had been locked at the studio for fourteen hours, remember?” Yoongi nods, eager to retrieve at least this bit of memory.

“I stopped by to drop some food before my lunch with her, we talked for a bit, and I kissed you goodbye before leaving… It wasn’t anything special.”

She looks away after that, because the longing on his feline eyes becomes too much for her body to handle.

“That was really anticlimactic, wasn’t it? I was hoping for something more remarkable…” Yoongi blurts, taking a sip of his drink, a bittersweet smirk adorning his face.

Yoonah surprises even herself by snorting at his antics. He was right, though, it wasn’t a last kiss worth of the kind of passionate relationship they had.

“I wasn’t expecting for it to be a last kiss! I would have done better if it was planned.” She quips, boldly holding his gaze.

“Really?”

She raises her eyebrows, as if that was the most outrageous doubt he could have. It was.

“You would have to prove it to me. You know I’m a skeptic at heart…” his half smile doesn’t waiver, even though his ears color once again.

“That’s not a good joke…”

As she speaks, Yoongi calmly slides closer to her, and she can see that the glint in his eyes is anything but playful.

“It isn’t a joke, you’ll really have to show me.”

“Do you want to drive me crazy?” Yoonah feels her face heating just from the strength of his gaze, and wonders if she really wants to deny him.

“I mean it… I am not really asking for much, am I? I just want the memory of our last kiss, it’s something that has been haunting me.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment when she hesitates, and shamelessly uses it in his favor.

“Please? So we both leave this bar with one regret less?”

Yoonah’s doe eyes widen, but she knows the battle would be lost even if she felt like fighting it.

“You are playing dirty…” she says, but nods slightly at him.

Yoongi smiles with the satisfaction of a cat that had just found a bowl of unattended cream, dropping to his feet and taking a step into her personal space.

“Here? It’s a crowded bar, and you’re never fond of PDA, Min Yoongi.”

“I’m willing to make an exception tonight.”

She can’t help smiling, especially when his fingers lightly caress her face.

“Make it count…”

At first, his lips move softly against hers, the feeling comforting and familiar, as if only a couple of days had passed since they last met. This doesn’t last long, as Yoonah changes their pace, tongue tracing the seam of his lips, hungrily demanding more. Yoongi smiles against her mouth and concedes, while sliding his hand to her waist, pulling her as close as possible while in public.

She is also the one who breaks the kiss, face red and breath slightly erratic. Her fingers are still clutched to the front of his sweater, and she is sure they have an audience, but Yoongi seems unaware of their surroundings and is clearly unsatisfied because he only takes one deep breath before kissing her again.

This time the kiss is hot and demanding, and she instantly drowns in the feeling. Yoongi cards his hands on her hair, and when he separates their lips, he holds her gaze with inhuman intensity, like he’s trying to leave an impression. As if one was still needed.

They stand like that for a while, until the sound of Mark carefully delivering Yoongi’s drink order breaks them out of their haze. It’s also a clear reminder for Yoonah of where she is, and why.  

“I had an arranged date. That’s why I’m here alone… He stood me up.”

Anyone else would have been at least hurt by her words, but Yoongi only tilts his head, eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. He understands the purpose of this seemingly impromptu confession. Yoongi had played that game with her already, back when they were still a casual fling, Yoonah would always conjure obstacles for him to jump whenever she felt too emotionally exposed, as a reminder that they couldn’t be together.  

“One of your parents candidates?”  He asks, taking a sip of the glass left by the barman.

“The chosen one, as far as I was told…” She answers, looking away. Her voice almost falters, but she finds out that it’s easier to keep it together if he isn’t looking straight into her soul.

This gets him, and producer stays quiet for a moment that seems to stretch into infinity.

“Lucky bastard…” He finally says.

“My father says he has had enough of me rejecting everyone and stalling… Apparently, I’m not getting any younger as well…”

“That’s the shittiest reasoning I’ve ever heard… And I work for the entertainment industry.” He still sounds bored, but the ominous gleam of his eyes tell the truth. “Do you even know the guy? Do you like him?”

She emits a dejected sound that, he supposes, was meant to be a chuckle.

“I’ve met him and his family… He looks decent. I was told that he’s graduated with honors and is very accomplished at his job. He seems... okay.”

“Well, I am all of those things, and I had the advantage of harboring sincere feelings towards you… But I suppose the golden spoon is a tiebreaker, right?”

“Min Yoongi, don’t be a dick! I wouldn’t be drinking here alone if I was happy about the arrangement.” She spits her words at him, finally meeting his gaze.

He threads on dangerous waters, and he knows, but Yoonah’s last statement made him feel like his reckless younger self. For the first time in many years, he has true indignation fueling his temper. That and, given, an unhealthy amount of jealousy.

“Right… I was rude… I believe congratulations are in order, right?”

Anyone who met Lee Yoonah after her college days, the lovely young woman, efficiently balancing her job at a prestigious news magazine and her master’s, would classify her as docile. Very few had witnessed the temper and sarcasm that gave color to her real personality, traits her parents taught her to hide so well.

Maybe that was why Yoongi always had a penchant for bringing it to the surface. It probably aroused him, hearing her swear under her breath while staring up at him. He must feel very especial.

“Fine! Do you really want for this to end in animosity? Suit yourself!” She slides from the stool to leave, but he holds her elbow, a determined look on his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a jerk to you… I just got mad at the situation.”  He seems repentant, and when he reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear, she leans into his touch, instantly softened.

“I’m mad at it as well, Yoon… But you know as well as I do how my life works, It’s all part of a tightly scheduled agenda. I’ve learned how to live with it long ago, so I suppose I can learn how to live with this arranged marriage as well.” His hand is roaming in a soothing pattern, having traveled from her hair to her shoulder and then down to lace their fingers.

“I will still be missing you, though…” She confesses at least, and his eyes widen. This night has really turned into something unexpected.

He doesn’t know what prompts him to actually voice the crazy suggestion made by his brain. Maybe it was that rediscovered jealousy. Or perhaps it was the wishing tone coloring her words. Either way, it certainly had something to do with the familiar longing for her, rooted deeply in his core.

“Tell me something… Is there anything else scheduled for tonight on this hellish planner of yours?”

Yoonah is surprised by his line of questioning, and even more by the darkness she finds in his eyes when they meet hers.

“Why?”

He takes another sip of his drink, trying to drown the voices of warning on the back of his conscience.

“As I see it, you’re about to sign up for a loveless marriage with a man you don’t seem to care about… Don’t you think you deserve at least a proper hen night? I mean -- If you want it, I’m offering myself.”

Yoonah is glad she isn’t drinking anything when he finishes because she was sure to choke on the liquid while she spurts for air.

“You can’t be serious!”

Yoongi just nods, absently wetting his lips while waiting for her answer. Yoonah is sure her blood is boiling inside of her veins. Because she knows that Yoongi can read her just as easily as she can read him, even after all of this time he still knows exactly what makes her tick.

And right now, she knows his wanting is reflected on her own eyes. Their kisses having awoken the latent hunger she’d come to associate to the producer. And maybe giving in to this feeling and listening to her heart’s desires makes her a masochist, but at least she isn’t alone.

“This night was scheduled until half an hour before you’ve arrived. Right now, I’m on my leisure time so… What do you have in mind?” She finally answers, feeling her face flush from more than just embarrassment and alcohol.

Yoongi’s response is a huge gummy smile, far too sweet to match the owner of the hand fondling the skin of her tight just above the hem of her dress, his body expertly angled to hide his indiscretions from the rest of the patrons in the bar.

When he talks again, it’s in a conspiratorial whisper that has shivers running up her spine and heat spiraling through her whole body.

“Well… Can I persuade you to go completely off the record and come home with me?”

Clalec: The Wish Is Revealed.

(Part one ft. Jalec.)

[NOTE: This is strictly platonic. There is no romance here, and there never will be.]

Alec, wait up!

Jace’s voice was lost in the echo of Alec’s footsteps as he stormed out of his office and down the hallway. He’d started to chase after him, but stopped when he realized he needed to let him go. 

For years, he’d been trying to pull Alec in the opposite direction, even more so after Clary came into the picture. 

Calm down, Alec. 

You find everything unusual, Alec. 

Don’t start with me. 

For once, Jace thought, he’d sit back, and let Alec say whatever the hell he felt like saying. He took a deep breath and made his way to his own room; hating to sit idly, but also not wanting to cause any more trouble. Right now, all he could do was lie in bed, with his eyes wide open; halfheartedly hoping he’d sleep peacefully for the first time and days, and wanting to stay awake so he could listen for what was sure to be quite the discussion down the hall. 

Alec paused in front of Clary’s door and listened to the music drifting from behind it. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he had to clench his fists to stop them from trembling. 

How dare she.

How dare she lie to his face, and retreat into a room he allowed her to stay in, and the Institute he was running, and listen to sappy love songs as if everything was fine. 

As if she hadn’t been part of the reason he’d questioned whether or not he was losing his own mind for being so worried about Jace. 

After he’d forced himself to stop seeing her as a little girl, and start sending her on missions like a real Shadowhunter. 

He raised his hand to knock, and froze with his fist in midair. He hadn’t stood in that spot since the days following the possession, which resulted in Jocelyn’s death at his hand. Alec remembered how his stomach and twisted into knots while he watched the security footage; how he’d nearly vomited at the sight of his hand tearing Jocelyn’s heart from her chest. He shook his head rapidly. 

No. 

This was not the same. He refused to let any of those feelings resurface. 

This was about something more; something near and dear to his heart; something he loved almost as often as he loathed. 

This was about a piece of him. 

Clary could come into the Institute and turn it on its head for all he cared, but what she could not do - what she would not do - was mess with Jace. 

Alec’s hand began to hurt as he pounded on Clary’s door. He’d kick it down if he had to. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Her voice rang out. The music was lowered, and there was some muted shuffling before she flung it open. 

Water saturated her fiery mane, which fell around her face haphazardly. She was wearing nothing but a towel, and jumped back at the sight of Alec at her door, rather than Izzy.

“Alec,” She blinked up at him, tightening the grip on her towel before realizing who she was talking to. “What’s going on? Did something get into the Institute?” 

She took in his stance, and furrowed her brow. He’d been knocking like the building was on fire, yet he stood in front of her, looking militant as always with his hands behind his back, and a vacant look on his face. 

“We need to talk.” He said bluntly. She stepped aside and allowed him to come in. 

Alec took the few steps required to enter the room, and shut the door behind him, locking it with a gentle click. Clary wouldn’t be able to dart out and avoid his questions this time. She’d stay in there and deal with them. 

Clary darted around her bathroom, hurrying to dry her skin and slip into some clothes. Now that she was sure there wasn’t an emergency, it felt rude to be nude in Alec’s presence. He was her boss, and she had to respect that. 

She raked a comb through the wet strands on her head a few times before leaving the bathroom, now clothed in a t-shirt and shorts. Alec stood with his back to her, shoulders rigid and squared as he stared out the window. 

“You said we needed to talk,” Clary cleared her throat. “Is it about Izzy?” 

They’d spent a few minutes of the mission surrounded by yin fen dealers, and Izzy had handled herself amazingly well, but she was sure Alec would be checking up on her regardless. Why else would he have come to her door if not to discuss someone he loved? 

Alec turned slowly, and the look on his face caused Clary to take a step back. 

She’d seen a lot of things in his eyes whenever he looked at her in the past. 

Annoyance, because she was in his way. 

Disgust, because Jace had chosen her over his lifelong bond with him. 

Regret, because he still blamed himself for killing her mother, even after she’d assured him it wasn’t his fault. 

Suspicion, because he’d learned who her father was, and strengthened his distrust. 

She’d seen a lot of things, but this...this was foreign. Alec was looking at her like she’d shoved a white-hot blade in his chest, and slowly twisted the blade. A look like that on a face like Alec’s made her own heart rate increase, and she felt it swell in her chest, now filled with concern. 

“Alec?” She asked softly. “What’s wrong?” He tipped his head slowly, still staring down at her. 

“You.” The word slipped from his lips like a curse. “You are what’s wrong.” 

“What are you talking about?” She shifted her weight to the opposite foot. 

“I’m talking about what really happened at Lake Lyn.” 

Clary felt her blood run cold. 

He couldn’t know. 

He couldn’t know. 

Her lips parted and closed again and again, but nothing came out, save for her own panicked breaths. 

How did he find out? Was Magnus able to figure it out somehow? Was there an angel involved?

“H-how,” Clary took a minute to collect herself. “I told you everything, Alec.” 

She attempted to retain her composure, but she knew it was too late. She may have fooled Alec once, maybe even twice, but it wasn’t going to happen a third time. 

“Spare me,” He narrowed his eyes. “Jace already told me the truth.” The venom in his voice saying the word truth didn’t go unnoticed by Clary. 

She may have told him “everything”, but she hadn’t been telling the truth. 

“I wanted to tell you,” She said quickly. “I wanted to tell you before we even left Idris, but-”

“But what?” Alec looked her up and down. “You were too busy basking in the glory of getting your angelic rune? Too busy parading around the ceremony, lying about what it was like to have come face to face with the angel Raziel, and not make a wish?” He’d been trying to keep from raising his voice, but his self-control was slipping, and it was only a matter of time before he came apart at the seams. 

“No, Alec, I swear,” There were tears in Clary’s eyes now. “When you spoke to me that day, I knew I couldn’t fool you for long. I went to Jace right after that, and told him that you needed to know what we did. I told him we could trust you.” 

“Who is ‘we’?” Alec snapped. “Don’t try sharing the blame with him - this is on you, Clary. Jace never asked to be brought back.” 

“What was I supposed to do?” Clary cried. “He’s your parabatai! Was I supposed to let him die? Was I supposed to let you walk around with a piece of your soul missing? Was I supposed to-” 

“You were supposed to tell me the truth!” 

Alec’s voice broke as it echoed throughout the room, and Clary felt it in her bones. 

“You said it yourself,” He went on. “We don’t see eye to eye on things, but the one thing we have in common, is how much we care about Jace. You love him, and he loves you, and I get that, but he’s my parabatai. He’s been that way longer than he’s been your boyfriend, and he’ll always be that.” 

Clary exhaled slowly, watching as Alec ‘s eyes glistened in the dim light. He blinked and glanced at his feet before meeting her eyes again. 

“Twice, I came to you,” He lowered his voice. “I came to you with one statement, and one question. I felt my parabatai rune disappear, and I asked you why. Twice, you lied to me.” Clary knew that well enough - she didn’t need any reminders. 

It killed her to see how badly this was affecting Alec; it had been killing her for weeks. She cringed minimally, thinking back to the nights she spent lying awake in bed, worried sick about Jace. She thought about how many hours she spent kneeling in front of the toilet, dry heaving because of how anxious she’d been. She thought about all those things, and knew it had to have been a cake walk compared to what Alec was feeling all this time. 

“I’m sorry,” She rubbed her eyes. “When he told me that it was the worst offense in the eyes of the clave, and that he wanted to protect you, I had to listen to him, Alec. Neither one of us wanted you to suffer from our - from my actions. You have to know that.” 

Alec chuckled, but there was no humor in it. 

“The clave?” He shook his head. “After all they’ve done, you think I give a damn about the clave? This is Jace we’re talking about.” 

“I know that,” Clary nodded. “I know, I just- I didn’t know there was only one wish. I didn’t think I’d ever have to lie to you, to Izzy - to anyone.” She’d been holding herself together fairly well since this whole ordeal started, but now, she was breaking. 

Clary was crumbling, falling to pieces right in front of Alec, and he didn’t care.

“Get out.” He said. 

“W-what?” Clary wiped her eyes. “And go where?” 

“Anywhere but here,” He squared his shoulders again. “I need to figure out how to fix this, and I’d prefer to do it without you lingering.” 

Clary searched his eyes, scrambling to find something to hold onto; pity, empathy, mercy, something, and found nothing. That was the only way she could describe it. She may be able to reason with Alec one day, but today was not that day. 

He was done with her. 

“Fine,” She said roughly. “Just let me say goodbye to Jace.” 

“Say whatever you want,” Alec spun on his heel. “I want you out by morning.” 

The sound of a slamming door jolted Jace out of a fitful sleep, followed by the sound of Alec’s steady, rhythmic steps retreating down the hall. Jace sat in bed with his head in his hands, wishing he’d stayed awake to hear what had happened. He waited in silence as seconds melted into minutes, until there was a knock on the door. 

He sprang up and rushed to open it, feeling pain in his chest when he spotted Clary there with her arms wrapped around herself, and tears running down her face. 

“Jace, he...” Her lips trembled as words failed her. 

Jace pulled the door open further, and opened his arms. 

“It’ll be okay,” He pulled Clary in for a hug. “We’ll be okay.”

Thanksgiving (Tom Holland Smut)

request: “could u do a tom imagine where hes dating the reader and shes bi ? and when he first found out, he was like intimidated but then he finds it like sexy lol make him react how u think he would” (requested by anon)

short summary: you take tom home for thanksgiving and when the topic of past relationships comes up things get a bit :/

length: 3.9k words

warnings: tbh the smut’s just like at the end there’s lots of plot stuff and shit so

A/N: i lowkey didn’t know how to go about this, bc i didn’t want to write something that would come across as tom fetishizing the reader’s bisexuality bc i’m bi and i hate when i read stuff like that so anyway this was the result, idk if this is the direction u wanted but uh here we go

Your mom & sister had been hounding you for almost two months to come home and also bring your boyfriend so they could properly meet him for the first time. It’s not as if you didn’t want them to meet Tom, it’s just that he’s been busy and frankly so had you. And when the two of your schedules aligned with a break, dragging him back to your hometown wasn’t exactly your top priority.

But when Thanksgiving rolled around and your university had given you a break, you knew you had to go home. And once you’d mentioned it to Tom, he got excited to come with you since he’d have some time off between projects. Once you told your mom and sister, they were over the moon.

The two of you were currently standing outside of your childhood home, hand in hand. You’d been standing out in the cool autumn air for almost 10 minutes. You didn’t know whether you should just walk right in like you used to, using the spare key under the potted plant, or knock. 

“It’s your home, darling, just walk right in,” Tom said with a slight laugh, balancing the small pie the two of you had baked earlier in the day. You were almost dreading going inside, but you knew he was right. 

“I guess so,” you said with a sigh. You put your hand on the door knob, but hesitated yet again. “You’re sure you want to do this?” you asked him, for probably the millionth time.

“Of course, I have to meet the people responsible for creating you. We’ve been dating for almost 7 months, I feel weird having not ever met your parents or other family members before. It’s like you were hiding me,” he joked. You slapped his arm.

“You know I wasn’t hiding you, I was just saving you from being ripped apart by my crazy blood relatives,” you said with a grimace. With that, you opened the door, kicked off your shoes, and announced your arrival.

“Mom? Me and Tom are here!” you yelled as loud as you could. You first heard the sound of paws against the hardwood floors, and your pug came into the room excitedly, almost tripping over his own adorable, stubby feet.

“Bucky!” you yelled with a smile on your face. You got on your knees and opened your arms for him to jump into, but he instead went straight for Tom, almost knocking the cherry pie he was holding out his hands. You frowned as he showered your boyfriend’s face with appreciative licks.

“How is it that my own dog is more excited to see you than me? He’s never even met you,” you inquired out loud. Tom just gave you a smirk.

“What can I say? I’m Spider-Man. Spider-Man can do anything, including charming dogs.” he said cockily as Bucky retreated and ran towards the kitchen. You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N? Is that you?” your mother called from close by. Moments later she came into view with a bright grin on her face. “Finally, you’ve come home!” she quickly embraced you in a hug before taking a look at Tom. “And you must be the boyfriend my daughter has been hiding from us!”

Tom laughed charmingly with your mother at your own expense. You glared at them both. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Y/L/N, I’m Tom.” he said with an infectious smile.

Your mom gave you an approving nod as he looked him up and down, stopping at the pie in his hands. “Such a sweetheart,” she commented appreciatively. “Welcome, Tom, and thank you for this delicious smelling pie!”

“It was no trouble at all, Y/N and I whipped it up together, it’s my grandmother’s recipe actually. We only use it for special occasions.”

“Well I cannot wait to taste it,” your mom said, positively beaming at the creation. “The rest of the family is outside in the back with the food, we’ll start eating in the next hour or so,” your mom explained momentarily. She made her way out back while you hesitated for a moment.

Sounds of laughter and merriment continuously emanated from the back of the house. You interlocked Tom’s hand in yours.

“Time to meet the family,” you muttered. Tom gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and kissed your knuckles.

“Shouldn’t I be dreading this more than you?” he asked teasingly. You shook your head.

But you had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Tom charmed everyone he met, including your grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts, and anyone who had a conversation with him that afternoon.

It was almost as if there was nothing to dislike about Tom, and he knew how to interact with every type of person to make them love him almost as much as you did. He was able to entertain all your little cousins but keep up with the banter of your older relatives. Your dog, Bucky, was constantly by his side almost everywhere he went. Throughout dinner he managed to fit in as if he had been part of the family for ages, and you couldn’t have been happier.

By the time you made it to dessert, everyone was lingering in different places of the yard, various conversations flowing. You and Tom were sitting on the porch swing talking to your sister while eating your respective slices of cherry pie.

“This pie is fantastic,” your sister said, shock painting her features. “Did Y/N help bake this because she is a literal mess in the kitchen,” your slightly younger sister asked Tom. The two of them laughed at your expense, a trending theme that seemed to be overtaking the evening.

“Shut up, Y/S/N, you’re the one who almost burned the kitchen down last year.” That shut her right up.

“She really did help, and she was very cute while focusing on the measurements to make sure it was perfect, if I do say so myself,” he said, giving you an adoring look. Your sister awed.

“I literally haven’t seen Y/N this happy since she was dating Fiona,” she mentioned off handedly. Your head snapped up, you trying to silently tell your sister to stop talking.

“Fiona?” Tom asked curiously, cocking his head at your sister. She nodded and kept talking, completely ignoring your look of distress. 

“Yeah they dated for like a year and a half in high school, completely inseparable. It was gross how much they loved each other but at the same time any normal person would be jealous of the type of relationship they shared.”

At this point Tom was merely poking at his pie, no longer having the appetite to eat it. Your sister didn’t seem to notice and continued to fill him in on your past relationship.

“It was a pretty big shock when Y/N broke up with her, I remember our mom was actually crying for like a week because we all loved her around here so much. And to this day I still don’t know why they even broke up,” she finished.

“I think I need to go the bathroom,” Tom got out after a few moments of silence. He carefully placed his unfinished pie on the table next to the table and hurried into the house.

“Tom,” you sighed exasperatedly as he quickly excused himself and went inside. You gave your sister a pointed glare.

“Did he not know that you’re bi?” she asked, confusion painting her features. You ignored her, then hurried after your boyfriend to follow him inside. She merely gave you a shrug, but you were already long gone by the time she did.

“Please, wait, Tom,” you called after him as you made it into the house. It was very quiet considering the rest of your family was out in the backyard enjoying some desserts after the fulfilling Thanksgiving meal. “Just wait a second!”

He continued to ignore you as he wandered into the kitchen, realizing he didn’t know where anything else in your house was. “I’m just going to the bathroom, Y/N,” he said unconvincingly. You saw right through his lie.

Before you could call him out, he picked a hall to walk down and opened the first door he came to. It wasn’t the bathroom, but a hallway closet where your mom kept extra blankets and coats. As he moved to close the door, you dragged him and yourself inside and closed the door. 

“Would you just tell me what’s wrong?” you asked softly, taking a seat on the floor. Tom sat down next to you and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask your girlfriend that your family seems to adore. Maybe you should be dating her instead of me if you loved her so much and your family still loves her so much,” he ranted while giving you a look of discontent.

“Loved. As in past tense! As in she and I have been done for ages. She’s just a past girlfriend,” you fired back. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Tom it’s not a contest,” you said with annoyance. “I dated her my senior year of high school and we haven’t even talked since graduation, which by the way was two years ago. God, you’re literally jealous of a relationship that doesn’t even exist anymore, why do you always do this?” you ranted. He had been the same way when he heard about the boyfriend you had during your first year of college, it’d taken you 3 days to get him to calm down, his insecurities getting the better of him.

“Damn it, I know that, Y/N, but I just...I’ve never really done this before, okay? This my first real...serious relationship,” he mumbled quietly. A moment of silence fell over the room, the only sounds being the faint music from the backyard permeating the walls of the closet.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved, romantically. Well, er, love. Present tense,” he clarified awkwardly, looking at the wall in front of the two of you. You’d never seen Tom this vulnerable before, looking almost...ashamed. 

Here you were, thinking that he was being a prick about you dating a girl, but he was just nervous. It was glaringly clear now you’d been in more relationships than he had, but it never really seemed that way based on how he carried himself and acted. You put both of your hands on his cheeks and looked him in the eye.

“I love you Tom. And only you. And no girl or guy I may have dated in the past is going to change that. Okay?”

“Okay.” he replied meekly, a small blush on his cheeks. The two of you fell into another bout of silence, but more comfortable this time. After a few minutes, Tom spoke up again.

“Maybe okay will be our always,” he said with a small smug look on his face. You slapped him in the arm and glared at him.

“Okay, Augustus Waters, no need to get all fake deep on me here.”

“You know you love it,” he said teasingly, giving you a messy kiss on the cheek. You shrugged him off and wiped your cheek.

“I absolutely do not,” you said, trying to hold a serious expression on your face. Two seconds later you were a giggling mess, and Tom joined you. As your laughs subsided, you put your head on his shoulder. He pulled you closer, humming in content as one of his hands wrapped around your waist, the other around your inner part of your thigh.

“I love you,” Tom said softly, starting to stroke your thigh excruciatingly slowly. You gave him a suspicious look as he pretended as if he didn’t know why you were making a face at him.

“I love you more,” you replied, kissing him softly on the column of his throat. You lifted your head to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

As you pulled away from the brief peck, he pulled you in again with his free hand for a deeper kiss. His mouth hungrily connected with yours, a renewed passion seeming to overtake both of your senses. Your mind began to spin as his tongue began to lap into your mouth.

His hand against your thigh began to move higher until he was stroking your heat through the fabric of your pants. You could feel yourself becoming breathless and particularly wet the longer he persisted, until you eventually had to break the kiss for air.

“Stand up, pretty girl,” he purred silently in your ear. You were deep in a trance and obeyed him, slowly moving your back up the wall until you were in a standing position. Tom smirked up at you as your flushed face looked down at him on his knees in front of you.

It felt like the temperature increased drastically in the tiny closest as your boyfriend began to slowly unbutton & unzip your jeans. His lip was caught between his teeth in concentration as his eyes darkened with lust at the sight of your lace underwear.

Your heart was pounding hard in your ears as he let out a shameless moan. “Did you wear these on purpose?” he asked mischievously. Your cheeks reddened as you avoided his question entirely. “It’s quite cute, but it’s gotta go. I want a taste of that pretty little pussy of yours, darling. Is that alright?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to form words as his fingers lightly traced over your core through the fabric of your underwear. You licked your lips and nodded slowly, but Tom gave you a chastising look.

“Words, honey, I need to hear you say it’s alright,” he said with a slight purr. 

“Please, Tom, I need you to taste me,” you said, barely containing the moan that spilled from your lips. He hummed appreciatively as he dragged your underwear down your legs.

“That’s what I love to hear. My beautiful girl wants me to ravish her with while her family’s practically close by, someone else could’ve wandered into the house right now. But what my girl wants, my girl gets,” he said.

You were practically dripping onto the carpet at this point, but Tom took the time to kiss up your thighs as your underwear hit the floor. 

“Did Fiona ever make you feel the way that I make you feel?” Tom asked, his voice vibrating mere inches from where you needed contact the most. His hands were gripping the skin of your ass as you reached down to entangle your fingers in his dark, curly hair. You were silent as you waited in anticipation for him to do something, anything.

“Did she, baby?” he drawled slowly, not moving his mouth as he waited for your response.

“No Tom, will you eat me out already?” you snapped impatiently. He had half a mind to do the opposite of what you wanted for your snappy tone, but he wanted it almost more than you did, so he dove right into your glorious pussy.

He began to work a steady rhythm, taking slow, bold licks from the back all the way to the front of your pussy. As he lazily worked on the shallow end, your grip on his hair tightened, causing him to tighten his grip on your ass. The two of you moaned simultaneously.

“Tom, I need more,” you almost squealed. You could feel him smirking against the lips of your pussy before he finally obliged.

“What my girl wants, my girl gets,” he stated simply before viciously attacking your clit with his tongue and teeth. He introduced two of his fingers into the mix, pumping in and out of you at a heavenly pace.

With each moan that erupted from his throat, a resounding wave of pleasure overtook your lower region. You could feel the vibrations against the walls of your pussy, adding to the almost unbearable bliss that you were already feeling. You didn’t even care that most of your relatives were nearby, you only cared about chasing your impending your release with the help of your boyfriend.

Tom began to make come hither motions with his fingers in your core while slowing the pace at which he was attacking your clit with his mouth. Everything felt heavier the slower he went, and you could feel the pit of your stomach tightening in anticipation and desperation, wanting to finally explode so you could feel the sweet relief of your orgasm.

“Is my beautiful girl ready to come?” he asked haughtily, removing his mouth from your pussy, which made a resounding popping noise. You whined at the momentary loss of contact.

“Please Tom, I can’t,” you stuttered slowly, “I need you and I need to come, now,” you begged. A slight spasm went through your core as you tried to hold in your orgasm until he gave you permission. “Please,” you begged, your voice cracking.

Tom looked up at you, his pupils blown out of proportion and your wetness was coating his mouth and chin. His hair looked wild, sprawled out in different directions thanks to your death grips. His appearance alone had you utterly wrecked. He took a moment to look you dead in the eye as he licked his lips, groaning at your sweet taste.

“Go ahead, baby, come for me,” he said before readily diving back in, his mouth attaching itself to your clit as he worked two of his fingers in and out of you at a divine pace.

Your world felt like it came shattering down, your orgasm ripping through every part of your body. You almost lost your balance and collapsed against the wall as you came in your boyfriends mouth. You could feel some of it running down your thighs as he did his best to lap it all up.

All you could hear were the sounds of your moans and the obscene noises of him slurping and lapping at your pussy. After your orgasm was spent, Tom didn’t stop, continuing to nip and suck at your clit with a renewed vigor.

You were still sensitive and started to see spots in your vision as he continued to work at your core, the pleasure feeling like it was too much.

“T-Tom, I-I,” you stammered out slowly. “I can’t handle another,” you finished with a gasp. He immediately removed his mouth, using his fingers to wipe at his face.

“Sorry, darling, I got a bit carried away,” he said sheepishly. He put his wet fingers in his mouth for a final taste of you, his eyes closing in bliss as he licked them clean. “I love how you taste.”

You blushed madly as you finally slid down from the wall, sitting on the floor next to Tom. You didn’t bother pulling up your panties and jeans, feeling too exhausted and sensitive to do anything at all.

Tom wrapped a protective arm around you as you leaned into him, focusing on the smell of his shirt for a few minutes. You heart rate seemed to return to normal, as did Tom’s. You could see him sporting half a hard on in his pants, but neither of you said or did anything about it.

“I’m bisexual Tom,” you blurted, a few minutes after the silent bliss that overtook the room. You didn’t know why it came out like that, but you just felt a need to voice it out loud.

“I know,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Did you think I’d have a problem with that?”

“You were upset about...Fiona. I just didn’t know if that was why or just the fact that I shared a meaningful connection with somebody else before I met you,” you explained softly. 

“I was just jealous at the way your sister was describing the two of you,” he said, embarrassment coating his features. “Like I said, you’re my first serious relationship, but I don’t have any problem with your sexuality. Nobody should,” he said while pulling you closer to him.

“Good, because if you had a problem with that I would’ve had to break up with you right now,” you deadpanned. You weren’t kidding either, and Tom sensed that.

“I love you, darling,” he said while giving you a kiss on the forehead. You hummed in content. 

“Y/N?” you heared a muffled call of your name in the hallway. Your head shot straight up as you scrambled to get up and adjust your lower region. Your panties and jeans were still pooled around your ankles and you almost tripped over yourself.

Tom put a hand over his mouth to restrain himself from laughing at your predicament. You would’ve punched him in the arm but you were too concerned with your mother not finding you in this compromising position.

“You’d better shut the fuck up Thomas,” you hissed as you ungracefully zipped up and buttoned your pants. Your mom’s footsteps were growing nearer and you managed to try to act natural before the door to the closet opened.

“What are you two doing in here?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing the both of you. Tom reverted back to his charming self as he stood up from the floor. 

“Y/N was just helping me look for a blanket, I was getting slightly chilly outside and she offered to help me find one,” he replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Your mom looked him up and down again before nodding.

“It is getting quite chilly out, I feel like it’s more wintery than fall like outside,” your mother commented. You nodded in agreement.

“Definitely true, maybe eating outside wasn’t exactly the best idea to do in the middle of fall, verging on winter,” you joked slightly. Your mom simply shrugged.

“Well, come back and join us after you find something to keep warm with,” she said as she began to walk away. She stopped momentarily, turning around to faec the two of you.

“And Tom,” she began, “we’ve really enjoyed having you here today. I do wish that Y/N had brought you around immediately after she let it slip to me that she had a boyfriend, but we’re glad you’re here now. And you’re always welcome in this household.”

Tom looked overjoyed to have your mother’s approval and gave her a warm hug, which she immediately accepted. It took everything in you not to awe at the display in front of you, your slight fantasy of Tom being welcomed into your family with open arms being fulfilled.

“Thank you Mrs. Y/L/N,” he stated appreciatively. She gave him a grin before rejoining the festivities in the backyard.

“See, this wasn’t so bad was it?” he asked, his face looking like he wanted to let out an I told you so. You played it cool and shrugged your shoulders.

“It was alright, I guess,” you said, picking at your fingernails. Tom put a finger under your chin to make you look at him directly, your faces mere inches from each other. Just as you thought he was about to plant a kiss on your lips, he spoke instead.

“I told you so,” he gloated quietly, his eyes closed to relish in the moment. You shoved him away from you and followed your mother’s path to rejoin the rest of your family outside. You didn’t wait for Tom to catch up with you, but you were secretly smiling. Even if he was a pompous ass sometimes, he was still yours. And you loved him immensely.

permanent tag list: @searvhing @curly-haired-crisp @werido-fangirl @dreaming-of-the-lost @nightviolet @sunshine-raee @bitsyb21 @naybeirao @thespidersman @themusicorthemisery @call-me-tears @ephemereal @spooder-tom @buckysbumpkin @pvnksy @urbanstrangersfanfics @o-brienwrites @vibraniumdoritos @villagecrazypeggy @tambouriner @artsysad @makapaka11 @gaiasambuci @turtlesareradaf @hollandsucker

what did u guys think!! pls let me know!! this is like the longest fic i’ve written i think wow lol but yeah!! if you wanna be on my permanent tag list shoot me an ask and i’ll add ya!!

Some Insight Into the life of Connor Murphy: A Printer Boy Story(Part Three)

This is a preface of sorts:

The year is 2011

The time is 3:03 PM

It’s a Monday, Mid-August.

School had only been in session for a week and Connor was already done with it. There was no way Connor Murphy, Printer​ Boy, would be getting on that bus today. He didn’t have his sister to tell on him anymore, so he could do as he pleased, as long as he had a good excuse. His phone was dead, he had listened to music all through 3rd and 6th period, plus he forgot to charge it last night. So he couldn’t call, right? He’d just tell his mom that his class got held late and that he missed the bus. That would give him time to walk home at what ever pace he wanted. Connor began walking, and had gotten a few blocks from the school when he noticed a few kids he had seen around school hanging out behind the skating rink. He knew a couple, they were in his grade, but most were older. He must have been staring because he then heard.

“Murphy! What are you doing?”

“I-ummm, I was just walking home” Connor was startled.

One of them approached him. It was Lily. Connor didn’t know what to think about this girl. She was never rude to him, she was just there. She was an acquaintance really. “You wanna hang with us?”  She asked

“I, are you sure? I mean, I guess that would be cool” he stumbled through

She just kind of chuckled.

“Come on, Printer Boy” she would never let that go…And that made Connor uncomfortable, it was almost like she knew.

She led him back to the group of kids. Very few introductions were made. Connor was uncomfortable. He had never been invited to hang out with anyone from school. It was weird. He wanted to leave, but he also didn’t want to seem like a freak. He barely noticed when one of the other kids addressed him.

“Do you smoke, kid?” This weird, mildly intimidating boy asked.

“Umm no. I mean, I never have. We’re to Young to smoke, right?”

The group kind of laughed. Connor blushed. He started weighing his options. He could leave, and go home and deal with his mom, or stay here and do, well whatever they were doing. He decided to stay. At least they weren’t interrogating him as to how his day at school was, MOM. (It was shit in case you were wondering. He doesn’t understand Chemistry, and was nearly last pick in gym(thanks Evan Hansen)) It wasn’t long before he had started talking to the kid beside him. They were cool, and Connor felt mildly included for a minute. He felt someone tap his shoulder, and he looked up. The older kid was handing him something.

“Take a puff kid” That’s how it started. Connor didn’t seek out this coping method. This life found him. And for once Connor was calm. He didn’t feel that darkness overtaking him. He was free. He was…He was okay. If there was one thing Connor hated about drugs, it was the other people. He preferred to be by himself. He had no interest in being one of them. He occasionally would speak to Lily, or the old kid, which Connor learned was named Stephen, but liked to be called Claws, to get a hook up, but otherwise he kept to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The story starts here:

Now, since we last saw Printer Boy, he had accepted his powers, and had become the neighborhood printer fixer upper. His dad’s friends all found out that he “could fix any printer issue you’ve got” and Larry would pimp it up to the guys. It was the only way Connor got any real attention from his Father, so he would take it with a grain of salt. The Harris’ were about as tech savvy as Connor is a turtle, so he was often over at their house “fixing” their printer. He normally just poked it a few times and it worked. This is when they’d invite his family on skiing trips. He never wanted to go, but his dad always said yes. Ugggggggg. They had a daughter that was a year older than Connor, and a son Zoe’s age. Connor disliked both of them. They were so fake happy all the time. Jessica and Shane. Ugggggggg. Their youngest daughter, Brittney, who was just a toddler, really liked Connor and so he spent most his time “babysitting” her while their moms were off drinking together. This is how he avoided the “wicked slopes”.

On one of these ski trips, the resorts computer messed up as they were checking-in and Larry tried to get Connor to try and fix it, but Connor didn’t know how, and it ended with Connor in a puddle of tears, Zoe and Jessica laughing at him, and Connor’s parents fighting. It had become apparent to Cynthia that Larry was taking advantage of Connor’s gift and she was not about that life.

Connor was no longer sent to the neighbors houses to fix the printers.

The year is 2012

The time is 1:37 PM

It’s early November

Cynthia was on a cleaning kick. It was part of her latest obsession. The flow of the house wasn’t right. She needed to clean and rearranging everything. The “KEEP OUT! that means you, MOM” sign on Connor’s door did not deter Cynthia, and she barged in and began cleaning. For a teenage boy, Connor’s room was fairly clean, much to Cynthia’s delight. However, she did feel the need to move things around. She was moving the dresser when she found a lose board on the floor. “Damn. I’ll have to have Larry take a look at this later” she muttered as she bent over to examine it further. Much to her chagrin, the board came completely off the floor.

Cynthia was shocked. Appalled. Disgusted. How could Connor do this? What reason would he have to be doing this? Had she not been a good mother. Had she failed (spoiler: yes she had), suddenly everything made sense. Connor hadn’t been tired, or “just a growing boy”, or suddenly developed allergies. He was high. This whole time. For over a year and she never realized, or no, she had been in denial. When she attempted to approach Connor about it he nearly shrugged.

“It not a big deal mom.” He said nonchalantly as he went up to his room.

Inside he was panicking. He had become dependent on the drug to sleep. To focus in school. To function. Days when he ran out without realizing were agonizing. He became extremely aggressive, especially towards his sister Zoe, and it would take days to get back on track after that. He always felt so guilty afterwards. This wasn’t how he wanted to be, but it was how it was. He knew things would have to change and soon, because now his mom knew, which means his dad would know. They’d be policing his every move. This may be the one thing they agree on all year. He went to his mom.

“I need help mom. I don’t know what to do, and I need help” he practically begged.

“I know honey, and I’m going to help you” she had responded.

Connor didn’t know that this meant months of rehab-hopping and weekend yoga retreats. None of it helped. Connor knew it wouldn’t. When you let mentally healthy people decide what’s best for the mentally ill, you’ll almost never get results. Connor knew he needed medication. He knew he needed a proper doctor, a good therapist, and he knew his parents could afford it. They just didn’t want it to be true. They thought they could be hush hush about the whole thing and they could still pretend they had a perfect family.

The year is 2013

The time is 10:47PM

It was a February day

Connor was done. Nearly four months. FOUR MONTHS into his mother’s “help” and he couldn’t take it. She was trying to fix the drug problem, not his problem. He wasn’t sleeping. He was tearing himself apart from the inside out. His grades were slipping (not that they were ever great, but in the last year he had done better in school than he ever had). He didn’t want to do anything. He felt even more disconnected from the world than ever before. His dad was yelling at him about his grades regularly. He stopped eating properly, and he was thin already. His parents had stopped his allowance, and carpeted his bedroom (they carpeted the whole upstairs, but Connor knew.)

It was this February day that Connor decided he had to do something for himself.

He created an ad:

Connor became Printer Boy.

He had a goofy, albeit rather snazzy, getup to hide his identity, he didn’t want his parents finding out. He didn’t get a lot of business. Just a few calls a week. Normally pretty easy jobs, but it was enough. He was buying shitty drugs, but they helped. He had to hide it from his parents, but he was sure his mom knew. There was no way she could be that blind anymore. He would sneak out to take a call, and sneak back in with ease. He could climb a tree like it ain’t no thang. Several times he was denied access to the home due to his masked face. He was always cautious about who to reveal his face to. Rarely adults, but most kids he seemed trustworthy, as long as he had never seen them before. He knew he could get more business if he was available during the early evening but he didn’t want to deal with his parents questioning him.

A few notable calls he endured:

•The one time Jared Kleinman called because he had tried to use homemade ink that he crafted from Bathbombs. He was afraid Jared would recognize him, but he was too busy being angsty about “loving the cronch” and “I just wanted a pretty picture of me cronching, made from the cronch”. The printer was fizzing. This was definitely a $15 job, but Jared only had $7, so Connor took what he could get. Connor made a mental note to never step foot in that house again.

•The call to the Beck’s. Connor vaguely knew their middle daughter Alana(they had English together at some point? She was very loud and sometimes pushy but never mean if he remembered correctly). The youngest had jammed the printer really bad. Connor almost cried at the horrid sight. He had come to care for printers. He felt responsible for their health. There were roughly 25 sheets of paper jammed in there. He just sighed and got to work. He had a harder time working with the printers when he was high, but he still hasn’t botched a job yet.

•The time some old ladies’ printer had actually exploded. Like blown a hole in one of their walls. He spent a bit trying to find the printer. It took a little longer that 15 minutes, but the nice ladies gave him cake and tea for his trouble. And a crisp $20 bill. It was Connor’s favorite job ever and he secretly hoped they would have troubles again.

•They time Lily called him. He worried the whole way over that she knew it was him. She never let on. Her printer was easy to fix. Just a small leak with the ink cartridge. Took just a tap of his hand and it was all cleaned up, he just replaced the cartridge and returned to the living room where she was waiting.

“It was an easy fix. $5 please.” He held out his hand

“Yeah, sure thing, Printer Boy” she said with a smirk. She knew. Oh no. This was embarrassing. He was so embarrassed.

“How did you know?!” He asked

“Really? Who else would call themselves Printer Boy?”

“Good point…”

“You look like shit, by the way”

Connor walked towards the door. He didn’t say anything. He needed to get out of there. Lily went to show him out, slipped the money into his hands, and as he walked down the walk towards the street she called out after him.

“Mines dishwashers​!” To be continued… (AN: I intend on this being the 2nd to last part, but there was a lot to explain about how Connor gets from Part Two to DEH, so I kinda made this filler-ish chapter. There will most likely be two more parts. Sorry if it’s no good, I was really kind of lost on the drug part/how to put depression into words)

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 114, July 2018

On Sunday afternoon, we had my step-dad’s 60th birthday party. I often find parties and social gatherings to be very challenging on me mentally and emotionally. This weekend, I had the added complication of poor quality of sleep, low energy levels and chronic fatigue in the mix. So even putting up a few decorations required a lot of physical effort from me. And then there’s dealing with other people’s energies which leaves me feeling very drained and exhausted. None of this is anybody’s fault, it’s just the way I’ve been wired.

Thankfully we had the function at home so I could basically retreat and hibernate in my bedroom if things got too much for me. To an outsider, it may seem like I’m being anti-social or lazy but in actuality, it’s a combination of being introverted, shy, reserved, autistic, anxious and depressed that makes me feel this way. Still I’m learning to cope with it better. We had the party catered for by a caterer named Erica from the Finger Food People plus the cake and cupcakes were designed by my friend and former team-mate Cathy Horne.

On Monday night, I went to a Yin yoga class with Aaron Petty at Level Up Yoga in Berwick. I was still feeling very much tired and worn out after the hectic weekend I had and so I felt like I really needed more of a restorative practice tonight. The wind was howling loudly outside the studio and the walls were shaking a little but I was safe and sheltered inside. It was another intimate class tonight with just the two of us (we can make it if we try!). Tee Bee and I.

Tonight we did a number of restorative poses and Yin-style stretches including Seated Forward Fold, Bridge Pose and Waterfall, Deep Neck and Side stretches. As usual, the class brought up a lot of emotional issues festering inside of me which currently lies around my uncertainty about work and the future as well as my social skills and wanting to make more friends. https://www.yogajournal.com/yoga-101/types-of-yoga/yin

(Why do I find it so hard to put myself out there and socialise? I wish I had more friends in my life. I wish I got to hang out more with them. I feel so powerless at work with all these roster and management changes. I can’t handle it. What’s wrong with me? I’m a doormat. I get so easily emotional whenever I make a mistake or somebody else insults me or I can’t answer a customer’s question. I feel so dumb sometimes. I’m lucky to still be working here.)

The above is pretty much what came up for me and is very typical of my thought patterns about myself, my situation at work and my social life. But yoga helps to turn these negatives into positives. To be able to let go of these stories which are holding me back in life, some of which are simply untrue. And it’s what I love about Aaron’s philosophy towards his yoga practice. He is always encouraging, supportive and accepting. Never judgmental or harsh or critical.  Thank you Aaron for being there for me. https://www.aaronpetty.com/teaching-schedule/

On Tuesday morning, I did my first Boxing / HIIT Power small group training session with CinFull Fitness in Narre Warren South. I’ve known Cinamon Guerin for about a year or two now from participating in her Body Combat classes at Casey Arc. Now she also runs a personal training business on the side with small groups of clients in her home garage. I’ve contemplated coming along to a class for a while now but it was either not the right time or life got in the way. But now I’m finally giving it a go. https://www.moneycrashers.com/health-benefits-boxing-workouts/

It was just myself and Sarah today who is one of Cinamon’s regular clients. After filling in my registration forms (I go into a lot of detail as always), I was ready to get started. We warmed-up by doing alternating exercises (Wall balls, Ball slams, Battle Ropes, Kettle Bell  Swings) at 30 seconds each. Next we did some weighted back squats and squat pulses, TRX exercises (Ring Rows, Squats, Lunges) and some lifts with the dumb bells (Bicep Curls, Overheads, Tricep Push-ups).

Lastly we did some basic boxing drills. I’m still fairly inexperienced when it comes to boxing though I have done a couple of group fitness boxing classes and a little with my personal trainer Mandi Herauville in the past. Thankfully Cinamon didn’t make it too difficult for us today. I gotta get back into the swing of things. I still have moments of self-consciousness whenever I’m workout out. Being comfortable with looking at myself in the mirror is still something I struggle with due to my body image issues and being overweight.

But it’s something I really want to work on and improve over time. One day at a time. The thing I love about Cinamon is her ability to make fitness enjoyable and accessible. It’s really tough work but the results you get from working out are worth it. My mental illness does have the tendency to interfere at times whenever I’m exercising, often to extremes like questioning whether I’m going to pass out or have a heart attack. It’s more than I’m still unfit at times and so it’s no surprise that I’m puffing and panting quite quickly.

These fears are irrational though as being out of breath, fatigued and profusely sweating are all normal by-products of working out. Of course you have to still be mindful about not overdoing it or causing yourself an injury. Cinamon constantly asks how we are feeling and that’s a sign of a great personal trainer. No client wants to be dragged off to Casey Hospital in a paramedic van because precautions weren’t taken during a session. And so in that sense, I feel very comfortable and secure with Cinamon training me. Personal safety should always come first. https://www.facebook.com/CinFullFitness/

On Thursday night, I attended the Young Adults AS Peer Group meeting at MS Australia - the Nerve Centre in Blackburn. Tonight’s discussion topic was on self-motivation which is something I’ve been struggling a lot with recently. My quality of sleep has been noticeably worse lately, dipping to around 4-5 hours per night with broken periods of me waking up at around 3-4am and then 6-7am. Sleep disturbances and insomnia is nothing new for me but it seems to be getting harder to manage of late.

Sleep deprivation really has a devastating affect on my moods, concentration levels and energy levels. Hence why it’s been difficult to motivate myself most days unless I have set appointments or shifts at work. But even then I notice that I’m tired, restless, irritable, moody and struggling to function at times. I have found that meditation, listening to calming music and going to bed helps to a certain degree but not always.

I honestly had mixed feelings about tonight’s meeting but I feel like a lot of it is clouded by my current mental state. Bumping into Gayle again, I felt really hesitant like I was walking on eggshells around her and didn’t want to draw her attention. I decided to sit by myself after I arrived but it didn’t take long for Gayle to drag me out of my chair. I did appreciate her trying to encourage me to mingle with a couple of new ��Aspies” but sadly it fell flat for me.

I almost felt like saying “Hi I’m Michael. I’m socially awkward and introverted. Nice to meet you.” Because that’s exactly how I feel inside in any group situation. But thankfully Max was lingering around to make socialising a bit easier for everyone before the meeting started. Gayle’s proposal was still haunting me in the back of my mind. I just know that I don’t have the social skills, the personality nor the confidence to be a group leader hence why I’ve been so evasive and dismissive about it. However, they are things I really do need to work on.

The meeting itself ran alright. We got divided into three separate discussion groups like last time. I ended up being in Max’s group outside on the sofas. Though I personally only came up with one decent suggestion to contribute, we still managed to get some great ideas written down on the butcher paper for ways to get more organised in our daily lives. These include:

Using planners, calendars, diaries, post-it notes and notepads

Setting alarms at scheduled times on your phone

Writing to-do lists, prep lists and shopping lists

Using filing systems such as folders and display books

Preventing problems before the arise

Persistence in the face of setbacks e.g. extending deadlines

Ensuring that you take regular breaks and reward yourself when tasks get completed

I could feel myself getting easily distracted and struggling to maintain focus tonight at times so I decided to leave early. The jury is still out as to whether the Young Adults Aspergers peer support group is the right venue for me to make new friends. It’s been a constant challenge for my entire 32 years of existence to find a place where I belong, to connect with like-minded people, to be understood, accepted and included. The one positive is that at least I’m slowly becoming a familiar face at Aspergers Victoria. Putting yourself out there and speaking up in a group is fucking hard to do but at least I can say I’m trying and I’m not giving up. https://aspergersvic.org.au/young-adults

On Friday morning, I went to my Body Pump class at YMCA Casey ARC in Narre Warren. To be honest, I was still feeling worn out and restless after arriving at the facility. My low mood could be attributed to the recent “Blood Moon” appearance this week as well as the colder weather. Thankfully our instructor Gina was in a loud, bubbly mood this morning and a workout was exactly what I needed in order to lift my mental state up and feel better.

Today we did release number 106 which features the following tracks: Tell Me You Love Me by Galantis & Throttle, Walk On Water by Thirty Seconds to Mars, Tribes by Chase & Status and Revenge by Pink Feat. Eminem. I have to say that the soreness and burn didn’t really kick in for me until about half way through the workout when we started doing lunges, squats and squat pulses then push presses, power presses and push-ups. 

But it felt awesome being able to push through how challenging this release was and to know that everyone else in the room was feeling the same way. Laughing, having fun and enjoying whatever exercise your doing will always be an important aspect for me because otherwise what’s the point of it? http://w3.lesmills.com/israel/en/classes/bodypump/music-tracklists/ 

“One foot in front of the other babe. One breath leads to another yeah. Just keep moving, oh. Look within for the strength today. Listen out for the voice to say. Just keep moving, oh... So my love, keep on running. You gotta get through today, yeah. There my love, keep on running. Gotta keep those tears at bay, oh. Oh, my love, don't stop burning. Gonna send them up in flames. In flames.” David Guetta & Sia - Flames (2018) 

“Drowning in the static of a thousand whispered doubts. I need to break the silence before my oxygen runs out. So can you hear me?. "Can you hear me?". As I call in to this dark and lonely. Passage, am I getting it through? Because all I want to do is get a message from me to you.” Evermore - Can You Hear Me? (2009)      

FACT Singles Club features a panel of writers rating and slating the biggest new tracks of the last seven days.

Did Singles Club’s Cameron Cook summon Ciara out of marital and baby bliss after suggesting last week that Tinashe may have dethroned her as the current underrated queen of R&B pop innovation? Were the FACT editors unsurprised by the tie for the top spot on this week’s ballot came from two artists making very different music but refuse, in equal measure to compromise their personal vision? Is nu-jazz really the future? All that and more in this week’s Singles Club.

Ciara – ‘Level Up’

Cameron Cook: Last week we talked about Tinashe replacing Ciara as Top 40 R&B’s most underrated innovator. This week, Princess CiCi came flying out the gate to remind us that, nope, she and her abs of steel are still here and won’t be ignored. I have a hard time thinking of another pop star that is so consistently good yet consistently overlooked. ‘Level Up’ is as catchy, bombastic and clever as anything Ciara has released in her career. The only thing that would make it demonstratively better would be if she had used DJ Telly Tellz’s original “fuck it up” hook. But other than that, no complaints. (8)

Caroline Whitley: Ciara, the underrated R&B princess of the century, popped back into the music world with a Jersey Club-inspired bop that is bound to get stuck in my head. Yummy! (7)

Jesse Bernard: A lot of the magic that used to come with a Ciara hit earlier in her career seems to have eluded her most recent one. She’s worked with some heavy-hitting producers over the years but banking on viral success through a social media challenge. She could easily grab our attention with anthemic sultry cut like ‘Body Party’. (6)

Michelle Lhooq: Damn, really not mad at that Jersey Club-inspired beat, which kicks this song up from average radio fodder to excellent club banger. My headspace today was stuck in a cycle of silly insecurities until I heard this, the endorphins flooded in, and all I could think was: YAAAAAS! (7.5)

7

Sarah Davachi – ‘Evensong’

Jesse Bernard: Listening to this song feels as though I’m watching the tide drift in and out, while the moon’s reflection bounces off the water’s surface. The soundscape Davachi creates in just under ten minutes is one of mesmeric ambience. (8)

Michelle Lhooq: So many electronic producers are making ambient music these days to scattershot results, but Davachi  – who was never a trend-chaser to begin with – stands out with her meditative, mindful approach to tonal harmonics. Instead of drifting into meaningless nothingness, ‘Evensong’ grounds you into a trance-like, hypnotic state. Something tells me I need to hear this in a giant dome in the middle of Joshua Tree to grasp its true effect. (7.5)

Caroline Whitley: Bury me to this song. No seriously, Davachi created something hauntingly beautiful featuring even more analog sounds than her previous work. (8)

Cameron Cook: This sounds like the soundtrack to a movie where Saoirse Ronan plays a galactic fairy princess sent to Earth to swim around the ocean and transform all our plastic waste into gummy bears. This song didn’t really give me anything but that image. That alone was worth the listen. (6.5)

7.5

Amnesia Scanner – ‘AS A.W.O.L.’

Jesse Bernard: The drum pattern is the only thing that keeps me hooked to this track. It’s alluring enough to generate enough interest in the rest of the album, which I’m sure explores more of the abrasive electronic sound on ‘AS A.W.O.L.’ (5)

Michelle Lhooq: Amnesia Scanner is back, bitches! I couldn’t be more stoked that the Berlin duo is still packing the same disorienting punches as on their previous mind-blowing EPs, while the music video hints at an expanded visual world their upcoming debut album might herald. My friend Andrew Ryce put it best when he recently tweeted, “Amnesia Scanner is the greatest rock band of all time.” (8.5)

Caroline Whitley: I’m gonna come off super uncool for saying this, but I’m not getting anything out of this. Or as my friend said the other day “If I had no association [to PAN] I wouldn’t be listening to it.”(3)

Cameron Cook: First of all, this creepy-ass video is unnecessarily traumatic. I googled to see if Chris Cunningham directed it, which sent me down an Aphex Twin YouTube wormhole, and now I can’t sleep. As far as the song goes, I’m into it – that eerie xylophone really ties the melody in well. Even though we’ve been hearing a lot of down-pitched, distorted vocals in electronic music lately, it’s effectively unsettling and weird here. (7.5)

6

Chance the Rapper – ‘I Might Need Security’

Caroline Whitley: Only Chance could come through with an angry bop that still oozes sunshine and playfulness: the artwork is a deconstructed take on the Angry Arthur Fist meme, after all! (8)

Jesse Bernard: The collection of singles Chance released last Friday was very much a continuation of the exuberant energy displayed through Coloring Book. Personally, I think Acid Rap Chano was him at his lyrical best but this direction makes a lot of sense for someone who’s much happier with life now. (7)

Cameron Cook: Sampling a Jamie Foxx stand-up special from 2002 is one of the reasons Chance is one of the best artists around: he’s so good at constructing layers of pop culture analysis, social commentary, dope hooks and tight rhymes. This totally made me excited for more new Chance tracks in the near future. (8.5)

Michelle Lhooq: Per usual, Chance packs a lot into four minutes. There’s a bounty of politically-charged zingers to choose from here, but as a journalist, “I bought the Chicagoist just to run you racist bitches out of business” was the verse that got me screaming. The Jamie Foxx sample, on the other hand, loses its bite around the 100th repetition and just gets plain annoying. (6.5)

7.5

Brandon Coleman – ‘Giant Feelings’

Caroline Whitley: When I first put this on I thought it had a vaguely Thundercat/Flying Lotus/Kamasi Washington-esque nu-jazz element to it and, boom, turns out Brandon Coleman is Washington’s keyboardist. With its dramatic orchestration it could almost function as some sort of pacifist James Bond theme. (8)

Michelle Lhooq: There’s something sooo LA about this song and video, from the upbeat earnestness of its central message to the outdoor scenes seemingly filmed on hiking trail overlooking the city skyline. Look, I have nothing against open-hearted positivity in music. But there was a point – namely, when Coleman croons, “Sweet love it was designed for you and me / together we must live in harmony,” against giant swells of orchestra strings – where it all just felt like way too much cheese. (3)

Jesse Bernard: A perfectly apt name for this one. I enjoy the way the synths reverberate against Coleman’s distorted vocals and bandmate Kamasi Washington’s horns. Coleman’s debut release is one I’m looking forward to. (9)

Cameron Cook: Thank you for ending this week’s ballot with this slice of uplifting space funk, because I’m desperately in need of all the good vibes I can get right now, what with the Earth continuing to spin right off its axis on a daily basis. This track is heaven-sent. The angelic harmonies and squelchy keyboards sound like P-Funk if they spend a few weeks on a desert retreat, eating smoothie bowls and consuming the finest psychedelic mushrooms the West Coast has to offer. (7.5)

6.9

Final scores: Chance the Rapper – ‘I Might Need Security’ (7.5) Sarah Davachi – ‘Eversong’ (7.5) Ciara – ‘Level Up’ (7) Brandon Coleman – ‘Giant Feelings’ (6.9) Amnesia Scanner – ‘AS A.W.O.L’ (6)

Cameron Cook is an American culture journalist currently residing in Berlin, Germany. He would go to the ends of the Earth for Kate Bush. (@iamacameron)

Caroline Whiteley is freelance writer based in Berlin. (@carowhiteley)

Jesse Bernard is freelance music and culture journalist based in Brooklyn and London, still hotsteppin’ in a Nike Air sneaker. (@MarvinsCorridor)

Michelle Lhooq is an LA-based journalist writing about music and weed. (@MichelleLhooq)

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A View to a Kill (1985)

Today Drew is forced to watch and recap 1985’s A View to a Kill, the fourteenth James Bond adventure. Bond is tasked with finding out how the KGB is getting its dirty Soviet hands on special microchips, but along the way gets tangled in a plot involving bombs, horses and eugenics. Can 007 survive his latest assignment, or will be blown out of the water?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, I’m so sorry this recap is coming so late! I’ve had a lot on my plate right now; if I’m not tromping through Louisiana alongside one of my newest favorite superheroes, the Swamp Thing, then I’m flying through the cosmos with the characters of one of my newest favorite books, Leviathan Wakes, or examining the highs and lows of humanity alongside Rod Serling as we traverse that mysterious realm known as The Twilight Zone. Needless to say, I’ve been a real busy bee these last few days! But I’ve been so busy enjoying all of the fantastic content we’re discussing in OneLimited that I’ve failed to appreciate all of the fantastic content being generated by you right here on One of Us! I’m loving your take on The Golden Palace, and I totally agree with your assessment of this series’ take on Miles. Why’d they have to do my boy Nick Carbone dirty like that? By the way, did you hear that Nintendo had enough money to finally get Snake back in Super Smash Bros., but they didn’t have enough left in the budget to get his juicy posterior to make a cameo? It’s a whole thing, but I know you’re not really big on keeping up to date on Nintendo news so I’ll move on. You’re doing great work, Chief, and I’m going to make a real effort to get back on track with my James Bond recaps (especially since I have a little something extra planned for the next month or so)! Without further ado, let’s get into it!

Buttocks tight!

Screenplay by Michael G. Wilson & Richard Maibaum, film directed by John Glen

We start off with a disclaimer that no characters or companies portrayed in this movie are based on real people, which is always a fun way to set the mood. After a barrel shot, we head to the snowy Siberia where James Bond is digging the body of 003 out of the snow. Man, first 009 ate it in Berlin, now 003 is out for the count, too! The 00’s are dropping like flies lately! Bond retrieves a microchip off his fallen comrade, and then it’s time for a good old fashioned ski chase. This franchise absolutely loves showing us people chasing each other around on skis! Like, a lot. Bond decides to switch things up by snowboarding while… Is that The Beach Boys playing? Oh darlin’, strap in, folks. Bond blows up a Soviet helicopter and finishes up his snow surfin’ safari in time to hitch a ride on an MI6 sub disguised as a glacier. A beautiful young woman is piloting the sub, and Bond happens to have some caviar and vodka on him so it’s safe to assume they bang for five days straight honkin’ down the highway on that long promised road toward home.

We cut to our blacklight-drenched title sequence while Duran Duran croons “A View to a Kill”. I can hear music, but I’m so distracted by these trippy visuals that it’s hard for me to focus on it! It’s O.K., I can always look the song up later. I guess that’s why God made the radio, right?

With the title sequence behind us, Bond arrives at MI6 where he’s greeted by the eternal Miss Moneypenny who’s dressed to the nines and looks like she’s ready for some hot fun in the summertime. There’s no time for California dreamin’ right now, though, as M calls Bond right into his office. Bond is greeted by Q, the man with all the toys himself, who’s busy playing with his new pet robot. Man, I don’t know if I’m still recovering from the season finale of Westworld or I’m flashing back to Rocky IV but I don’t trust that robot as far as I could throw it (which, admittedly, would probably be pretty far since it’s so little). Q boasts about his little problem child before M tells him to get down to business. Q mansplains how microchips work and explains that the chip Bond got off 003’s corpse is impervious to the sort of tech that would take out most modern computers. Seems like the KGB is gettin’ hungry for that kind of tactical advantage, because they’ve managed to get their hands on some super chips, too. M explains that the plant producing the chips was recently bought by Zorin Industries. MI6 couldn’t find a leak in the plant, so Bond assumes Zorin himself must have given the chip to the Reds. Zorin is an influential dude with a big male ego so Bond will have to tread carefully while investigating him.

We cut to Bond, Q and Moneypenny taking in a race at the Ascot Racecourse and enjoying the warmth of the sun. Or, at least, they would be, if Bond wasn’t busy scoping out Max Zorin (Christopher Walken) and his immaculately-dressed bodyguard, May Day (the incomparable Grace Jones herself), while Q and Moneypenny get absolutely fuckin’ jazzed about the horserace. Zorin’s horse wins the race, but Bond suspects the horse is juicing. May Day singlehandedly reigns in the horse with her super-human strength when the horse gets out of line, and Bond scurries off to sort of do some spy work.

Bond meets up with a dude who’s ready to spill the tea about Zorin juicing his horses and the two take in an honestly inexplicable show involving a lady and some fake butterflies. Thanks to some good timin’ the snitch is killed before Bond gets the intel he’s after, and even though he gives chase the assassin (who’s obviously May Day) manages to slip on through his fingers by base jumping off of the Eiffel Tower like the goddess she is. Bond chases after her as she soars through the skies, giving us one of our more bonkers car chases in the franchises herstory, but Zorin picks her up in a speedboat the two leave Bond in their dust while having an absolute blast.

Bond meets up with M and decides to crash a horse sale Zorin is having at his palatial estate. Bond and Zorin meet, and Bond decides it’s a good time to let Zorin know he knows he was behind that guy getting killed at the butterfly show. Why keep a low profile, right? Bond’s ready to do it again so he makes a move on a lady at Zorin’s party, but May Day swoops in to cock block him. Here comes the night and that means it’s time for Bond to snoop around in Zorin’s stables. He finds a hidden lab and gets proof that Zorin is doping his horses to make them run faster. What does this have to do with the whole secret microchip thing? God only knows. Zorin’s people figure out Bond’s snooping around so he has to make a hasty retreat. Zorin and May Day are wrestling around and on the verge of banging when they’re interrupted by the intruder alert. Zorin instantly suspects Bond, since Bond went out of his way to be suspicious earlier and all, and May Day suddenly remembers that he was the man who chased her off the Eiffel Tower. They race to Bond’s room and find it empty. May Day heads to her room to get dressed in her fiercest spy killing outfit, only to find Bond, who knew he couldn’t make it back to his own room and had to improvise, waiting for her in her own bed. Zorin gets a kick out of this and gives May Day the okay to cuddle up. Hold on dear brother, you’ve never had a night like this before.

There are no tears in the morning as Zorin calls Bond into his office to bullshit each other about buying horses. Zorin uses his computer to identify Bond and arranges for him to go on a test drive with a doped-up horse. Zorin leads Bond through a boobytrapped obstacle course and flips the switch to activate the horse’s stimulant and let him run wild. None of that really mattered, though, because Bond survives and Zorin just pulls a gun on him, knocks him out and has May Day push the car he’s in into a lake. Bond manages to stay underwater by breathing air from the car’s tire long enough to make Zorin and May Day think he’s dead.

Zorin gets in trouble with the KGB for killing 007 without permission. Turns out the KGB engineered Zorin in a lab and they think they own him, but he lets them know in no uncertain terms that he’s gone rogue. Soon after, Zorin meets with a group of executives and lays out his plan to become the world’s leading microchip developer by flooding Silicon Valley. One of the executives gets cold feet, so May Day throws him out of the zeppelin they’re in. Did I mention they’re in a zeppelin? They’re totally in a zeppelin. Anyway, Bond knows Zorin’s in San Francisco and heads there to meet with his CIA contact Chuck Lee (David Yip), who informs him that Zorin is the result of the experiments of a Nazi scientist.

Bond heads to an oil rig where he catches spots KGB operative Pola Ivanova (Fiona Fullerton) trying to kill Zorin by planting some explosives. Her plan fails and she barely manages to escape, running right into Bond afterward. Bond and Ivanova have run into each other before and Bond can never learn not to love so of course the two end up naked in a hot tub together. Ivanova tries to sneak out while Bond’s in the shower, but he’d already swapped out the tape she’d made while spying on Zorin so he’s able to listen in on Zorin’s plans. Bond later recognizes the woman May Day prevented him from banging and finds out she’s Stacey Sutton (Tanya Roberts), a geologist and the daughter of an oil tycoon whose company Zorin is attempting to buy. It’s about time for some action, so some of Zorin’s goons attempt to attack Sutton shortly after Bond broke into her house. Bond and Sutton manage to fight off the goons and later share a quiche and some wine. Sutton explains she’s trying to keep her family’s company out of Zorin’s hands, but you need a mess of help to stand alone against someone as rich as Zorin and she’s had a hard time with it.

Thanks to Sutton’s knowledge of geology Bond figures out that Zorin is planning to blow up some faults. Chuck’s ready to let Washington know something is afoot but he’s too nice for this game of heroes and villains and he’s killed by May Day before he can let his bosses know what’s up. Bond and Sutton head to City Hall to look at some plans or something, I don’t know, and they figure out this is all tied to a silver mine Zorin owns. Zorin and May Day arrive in person, drag Bond and Sutton up to the office of the chief geologist. Zorin has the chief call the cops to report a break in, then kills him with Bond’s gun to frame Bond. They then have Bond and Sutton stuck in an elevator and start a fire to kill them. Zorin is nothing if not dramatic!

Bond and Sutton escape the fire, of course, but the San Francisco cops think Bond’s a murderer (which is not untrue) so he and Sutton have to flee in a firetruck filled with cool, cool water. After some goofy firetruck antics Bond and Sutton manage to get away and head for the silver mine. Inside, Sutton finds a handy map that allows her to figure out Zorin’s plan. He’s going to blow up some lakes above the Hayward and San Andreas faults which will cause the faults to flood. Zorin can’t get enough of those good vibrations, though, so once the faults are flooded he’s going to set off another bomb which will cause both faults to move at once and flood Silicon Valley.

Zorin and May Day discover Bond and Sutton, and they barely manage to escape as Zorin orders the mine’s entrance be sealed. May Day chases after Bond and Sutton while Zorin flips the switch to flood the mine, killing many of his own goons and leaving May Day to die. Zorin mows down any surviving workers with a machine gun, because he’s just a real sumbitch. Sutton and Bond get separated, with Sutton making to the surface while Bond and May Day are stuck together in the flooded mine. May Day’s pissed at Zorin’s betrayal, and she’s down with Bond’s plan to wipe out Zorin. First things first, they’ve got to stop the second bomb from going off and flooding Silicon Valley.

It takes all of May Day’s goddess strength, but she’s able to haul both Bond and the bomb out of its hole. They set the bomb on a cart and try to wheel it out of the mine, but the brake sticks and May Day has to manually keep the cart going. Bond tells her to save herself, but she believes in love again and she’s such a hero that she’s willing to die to stop Zorin’s plot. She rides the cart outside just as the bomb blows up, killing her.

Boo! Booooo!! Boooooooo!!!

Zorin swoops down to drag Sutton onto his zeppelin. Bond grabs a rope and Zorin tries to kill him by ramming him into the Golden Gate Bridge, but Bond manages to tangle the rope in the bridge’s cables. Sutton wrastles with Zorin while he’s trying to get his zeppelin in order, giving Bond time to reach her. Bond and Zorin fight on the bridge, and Bond sends Zorin falling to his death. Zorin’s Nazi doctor tries to blow Bond up with some dynamite, but only ends up blowing up the zeppelin.

Afterward, the KGB gives Bond an award, but it turns out MI6 thinks Bond is dead. Luckily Q is a massive pervert and he sends his awful little robot into Sutton’s home, where he spies on Bond and Sutton fucking in the shower. Q lets MI6 know Bond’s alive, and Bond throws a towel over the robot before Q has time to rub one out.

Sail on, sailor.

The End

~~~~~

Jeez louise, that was a really wild ride! This movie was really all over the place, but, to be honest, I loved it. I mean, Christopher Walken? The immortal Grace Jones? This level of camp and goofiness? There was basically no way I wasn’t going to love this movie. Is it a hard hitting spy drama? Absolutely not. Is it a whole lot of fun? To quote Sutton: “You betcha.” There was absolutely no reason for that horse juicing subplot or any of that stuff about Zorin being a KGB experiment gone rogue, but, I mean, what the hell, right? If you’re going to goofy, go goofy as hell. My one major complaint is that May Day deserved a hell of a lot better than she got. I know Bond was supposed to end up with Sutton, but May Day will always be this film’s true Bond Girl in my eyes.

I give A View to a Kill QQQQ on the Five Q Scale.

Check back in soon to catch Eli’s next round of The Golden Palace recaps as he covers “One Old Lady to Go” and “Ebbtide for the Defense”, and after that I’ll be back to cover the next James Bond film, The Living Daylights.

Until then, as always, thank you for reading, thank you for having fun, fun, fun and thank you for being One of Us!

Addiction, therapy, future, mental illness, bad social constructing, and the huge danger of boredom

These questions keep coming up in my head and I haven't done a brain dump on these specific thoughts to get them out, so here we go:

1. Are people addicted to drugs because the chemicals have addicting attributes of is it more than that?

2. Are there better alternatives to therapy and why do we think the current models work?

3. Is mental illness genetic or the life experiences you encounter through living?

4. Do we give enough concern to the problem of "boredom" and it's correlation to depression?

5. Are the people designing our new social world really qualified to do so and what adverse effects are the results of these design?

A study that was done in 1978 tested the addiction to morphine in rats that I think is highly relevant today. Now there we plenty of other studies before that showed rats would prefer morphine water over plain water and that it was addicting and blah blah blah. The difference here is Alexander made a rat park, basically Disneyland for rats. When this alternative was introduced the rats, who are social creatures like us, took the regular water over ol' bama water( Alabama has the highest opioid use in the country). The idea being that if you give rats and therefore humans rewarding alternatives, you have less drug use.

(study) https://www.summitbehavioralhealth.com/…/overview-rat-park…/

I was talking with my kid who knows people who have addiction issues as many of us do now considering it will only be a matter of time before we all have a loved one in the same boat. One thing she noticed was that the people she knew that were home-schooled all seemed to jump right into every drug known to man once they got to the real world. She thought it was because they were deprived from the experiences of interaction and then kind of went loose with all the sensory enhancing once they got a chance. This is kind of what is happening in rural areas everywhere. Most addicts when interviewed in these small towns will tell you there is literally nothing to do here besides drugs. Of course there is no real job opportunity, no future of that changing, and it doesn't help that Big Pharma has just been allowed to send pallets of dangerous drugs to cities without any oversight. (Link) https://www.vox.com/…/opioid-epidemic-painkillers-west-virg…

Two things interest me in this information. One is that you could probably see a map of the issues with Opioids and where places have dick all to do, Buckeye ring a bell? Apache Junction isn't known for its parks people.

The other is this conservative idea that the decline of western society is in divorce, the liberal agenda, and not wanting to have this nuclear family model from the 60s. The way they combat this is by homeschooling their kids to hide them from influence and liberal programming. The problem is the result of this is drug addiction is ramping up more kills than Mortal Kombat.

The bible belt is hit very hard by drugs, my kid pointed out some terrible success rates with the rates of the kids she knows that were raised in home school christian settings and their battle with drugs. One example is two brothers both dying from alcohol excess, one a complete shut in with a heroin problem, the other who just slammed a bottle of fireball after heart surgery due to the effects. Overall it was 8 out of 10. The ones that joined the military seemed to avoid the issue the rest were swept away.

So the question is how dangerous is boredom? How dangerous is not having prospects of a future? I think the rat park is an example of idle hands make devil's work. We know that parents that get their kids into extracurricular activities have better outcomes but considering that most poor areas don't have the option of one job, and purchasing soccer outfits for kids, this may be a luxury of the rich. Rehab is a pipe dream for most poor people as well. Job opportunity and college plans is also a luxury of the affluent as much as the model of one parent working per household. So how do you combat and epidemic that poor people cant fix without an economic plan to shift poor and bored to middle class and working? Not by cutting funding but that is another debate. There is a finding that shows poverty is linked to mental health issues as well which makes perfect sense and the ramifications on addiction fall perfectly in line with that sense. (link) https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2016/10/30/499777541/can-poverty-lead-to-mental-illness

So how do you combat the addiction we now know exists? This idea of habit forming is true and dangerous if you don't respect it but do you heal the mind or do you fix it chemically? Some people have been going to extremes in the psychedelic frontier but I think they're missing something in some areas and completely bullshit in others. Where does the mental illness reside? Some think it is in your DNA. Others believe that is its a genetic trigger, like you are born with the genetic disposition but if certain events happen then the genes change. One example is how you can be predestined to develop breast cancer but it never triggers. Another is a linking between smoking at an early age can cause your child to be overweight. One other study was done on the MAOA, the warrior gene, or psychopath gene to some. The study showed that if certain environmental factors did not happen the gene would not trigger and the person would not be more impulsive of violence. (link) https://www.psychologytoday.com/…/evol…/201410/gene-violence

So how do you go about fixing yourself? Reset the brain with mushrooms? Do some therapy while on ecstasy? Microdosing LSD? Go on a Ayahuasca retreat? Take some electric volts to the brain? How bout regular therapy or counseling? I think you first got to find out one thing. Is your mental disorder something you are born with or something you were wired with through environment?

I tend to think it is the latter and here is my evidence. PTSD is a good example of something that was triggered through an event. Now some could say you were predisposed to be effected more so than someone else but they cant deny when it changed from dormant to affecting the individual. Another is the way they treat Schizophrenic behaviors with electric shock. They could literally wipe your brain of the existence of the disorder if you didnt mind losing your memory. This is a very good documentary on the subject of Bi-Polar but I want to note 2 things here. Most people dont just have one disorder, a ton have PTSD and considering they didnt look like vets I can assume their childhood was one of nightmares. The other is the woman who didnt want to lose her memory for the cure. Memory is paramount in these disorders even if you make a case for genetic predisposition you would also have to admit that environment plays a huge role in all these and in some it is seems like it is 100% that. (link) https://youtu.be/eyiZfzbgaW4

I believe the big reason why therapy works is because you play out the trauma over and over and talk about the terrible things you endured to someone. This could be a friend that doesn't mind hearing the story over and over or a therapist. I think the addition of medication is scary but as a stop gap I can see this as a necessity in a small timeline but there are a ton of adverse effects that are dangerous if going unchecked. Most mass shooters were on some anti depressants or adhd meds. This is why the holistic view garners some respect if used in logical ways and for a short time as well. Case in point is that you cant overdose on marijuana. So holistic does trump pharmaceutical if you cant die from it or the side effects of a pill meant to help you be happy makes you want to harm yourself and others. PTSD effected military folks have been swept under the rug by subscribing them some meds and sending them on their way. This is not being monitored by therapists but by doctors who get kick backs from the industry that benefits solely on people using more and more of their drugs. As you can see, business is good. (pic) https://margaretfarenger.files.wordpress.com/…/rates-of-pre…

This is an example of re-enacting trauma in a light way can repair the mind, this is similar to continuous telling of the story of your trauma. There are more elaborate studies that help people cope by recreating high quality versions of the trauma over and over till the brain can cope: (link) http://www.latimes.com/…/la-ss-morningside-can-paintball-he…

Now I think most people go to far on the merits of psychedelics and definitely on the catch all uses of marijuana. There are cases where it helps and the evidence in seizures is proof in the pudding. The over exaggeration of its effectiveness on cancer when its anti inflammatory effects are equal to you using tumeric or eating blue berries. Now I do think that if you were to take some ecstasy and focus on therapy, either talking about trauma or working out relationship issues, the different perspective and openness could make what would have been a toxic conversation one that is more easy to cope with. They have shown similar success with drugs like Ketamine and huge effects with mushrooms.

Now if you were to take ecstasy and sit there and talk about a bunch of bullshit like music or how could a mouse have a dog for a pet in Disney films, you are not getting shit out of the experience. The same could be applied to doing a bunch of psychedelics and going to burning man, what would you really learn from that? Intentions matter is all im saying. Other drugs like Ayahuasca and mushrooms have a different effect but the results on heroin addicts cannot be ignored. This isnt because you became one with the universe but the effects that brain wiring has on your life. If you were raised in a household where love meant violence and calm could be interrupted by chaos in any moment, you would have some fucked up wiring. It would effect the relationships you choose and the friends you can keep. There are ways to rewire the brain with actions. This is where therapy comes into play again. Someone telling you that what you think is boring is boring because your wiring needs enough positive links to love and relationships before it is wired to normal. The same reason why habits are formed like drinking while gaming, or the need to workout once you missed a day. (link) http://bigthink.com/ex…/how-to-rewire-your-brain-for-success

These drug may have an effect of getting their sooner by escalating the progress and putting you in a frame of mind to take it in more. Now these effects are fleeting but with practice and focus on the therapy and not just watching a shit Dead cover band you may get there without the danger of mood altering drugs that can have terrible reactions.

So what about our current social mediums? Do they actually do what we need them to do? Many people have talked about the dangers of social media and the addiction to likes. Here is a study which ranks them on how bad each one sucks but I have an idea behind why. (link) https://www.forbes.com/…/…/2017/05/31/instagram-depression/…

Here is a study showing the uptick in stress issues as a whole: (link) https://youtu.be/vqevGkjuLW0

Now most of these can be contributed to the asshole in charge, health care(mental as well), and economic concerns. 30% showed concerns about trust in government as well. Overall, people are not mentally better than they were last year and there are plenty of studies that show stressed households or classrooms can have huge effects on learning and stress in general. Stress is deeply tied to your health in a biological way as well so it is cause for concern.

I don't want to get to far down the rabbit hole but I think it is because we have people who have no idea how to talk to people creating social media apps. We have people that have no idea on dating making dating apps. That these applications dont take into account what is best for the user but what is best for making money and in return programming people to behave in a way that makes the developers money and provides mild success in the results desired by the person.

For example, the interfaces are one indicator that no one cares how you think. No one needed a tile interface for Windows 8/10 but here we are. Games are designed for in app purchasing and are curbing gamers to be loot and grind hounds that keeps them playing an unrewarding experience for continued activity and not a desire for rewarding game play. FB does a few things right but there are no ways to actually meet real people compared to AOL chat rooms in the 90s where a ton of people found love. World Of Warcraft does a better job match making friends/lovers than the current offerings and the reason why that is could be attributed to the way the app makes its money. Snapchat rewards users by encouraging them to stay active and post often which in turns means more ad clicks etc. None of these reward the user in the ways they want, you get a few clicks but no fill for the loneliness.

Use FB,IG, SC, Tinder all you want but in the end you will be no better off than when you started since there is nothing gained. I can use it to dump my thoughts into the ether but I dont expect anyone to read it, and no reward will be given for the effort. It has its merits but they are few. FB is great for connecting to the family and friends you already know but rewards you by making meaningless fake friends with no geographical filtering. Friends without the actual benefits of being one. It is devoid of filtering to location, unlike Tinder. Tinder on the other hand is devoid of emotion, information, and compatibility. You are given enough to explain yourself in emoticons and maybe your dick size :) but all you did was find out of someone 5 miles away swiped right, which is usually done be default for people not wasting time. So you match and it is cool you are close but now you have to sift through all the fake matches and see if you are compatible by having shitty after shitty conversation with people too busy maintaining their social media presence to respect your time. Also beware of neckbeards and the crazies. Other sites like OKCupid have personality matching by asking questions, sounds cool until you realize you match with an 80 year old woman or man in Novia Scotia, too bad they didnt have age or location sorting. It is no wonder ghosting exist, that people have moved their respect of the fake meaningless friends that accrue on social media and it has bleed over to someone literally unswiping you in front of your face and not caring about a human they were intimate enough to reply with one sentence over a text.

Twitch(Also any live shows with chat) is an interesting case for me. People watching gamers play is a simplified term for what it really is. The parts, well some, missing in other applications. For example, FB should have geographical filtering so Tinder half asses it. FB should have ways to talk to others and socialize so another app will half ass the lack of it by creating something that almost gives you everything but not quite to keep you along. Twitch fills in the gap of chatrooms no longer existing but also plays to a need of the socially awkward in the guise of gaming. What it really is, is a sense of community without the need for working on your social interaction skills. This is what is lacking in the current apps, this is why men cant put together 3 sentences before they say "I hope you get raped" for being ignored. So they go into a chatroom while someone is gaming who is successful because they talk to the discontent and not because they are good at them. These people are the therapists, a way to belong while remaining awkward. They can have one sided conversations with other regulars but they can still have a connection with the streamer of vlogger who reads their comments and validates them.

You really do have to appreciate the gift of gab, especially when it pays to keep the fans relevant, if you watch the successful ones they are really good at stringing people along and keeping then engaged by responding, the game is secondary: (link) https://www.twitch.tv/directory/game/Fortnite

It is no wonder an asshole who couldnt keep friends failed at successfully making an application where people have the same effect. They are just not capable of it sometimes, and other times your mental health has nothing to do with profits so it takes a bad seat. Much like our democracy got in the way of paid ads during our presidential campaign, we wonder why we keep getting sicker and never understand that the tools we have at our fingertips have not helped us at all but have made us worse if we put any faith in them. While developers not listening to the users in an Office suite may effect productivity, and a developer not listening to a user on a game may effect entertainment. Social media applications can effect your life, your stress levels, your sleep, your job, your mental health. So we better make damn sure we take that into account when we keep looking to them for happiness when I know they can never bring it.