a mixed bag of emotions there

GONE WOLF - Second meetings - (JONGIN, PT. 2) [CHRONICLES OF THE WOLF SERIES]

[ Jongin | Gone Wolf ]

 \ Second Meetings

-

“Alright, Jongin. In and out, okay? No lingering. You scout, and you come back.”

Jongin sighed. “You worry too much, hyung. I got it.”

Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed. “Jongin, I don’t want you running into any trouble. If I could go with you, I would, but at this point, I would just hold you back.”

Jongin’s lips pulled into a tight line. “Hyung, I know. Don’t worry about me.” He patted his alpha’s shoulder for reassurance. “In and out.”

Junmyeon gave a nod, and with a smile, Jongin poofed out.

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anonymous asked:

Asgore, ADT!Asriel and Alphys with a sensitive s/o? Like as in, really sensitive/emotional. They'll cry easily, is what I mean.

Undertale-Asgore:

He’s never been very good at handling tears. You start to cry, & all he finds he can do is hold you. No words are spoken, except for a soft “There, there” as he attempt to console you. Even if it’s over something menial, he’ll do his best to help you feel better.

Undertale-Alphys:

You get a mixed bag of reactions out of her. There are times when she’ll start to cry too. She might just stare at you awkwardly. She might panic a little. Or she might actually laugh. It just depends on the circumstances.

ADT-Asriel:

Don’t cry!! You’re going to make him cry, too! Oh, it’s too late, the waterworks are already starting. It doesn’t matter what the circumstance is, as soon as your eyes start to water, so do his. Sometimes it can get pretty awkward, especially if you’re in public.

A Lesson in Love (The Discovery)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,298

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - Thank you for putting up with me for almost a month and listening to me constantly complain about not being able to get this part written. I adore you. Always.

Originally posted by softtroublemaker

“Bucky wants to talk to you.”

You know that the earth never stops moving; it’s constantly in motion. Constantly making its trip around the sun. But the moment Steve says Bucky’s name, you swear that everything comes to a standstill. It’s the only way to explain how everything around you becomes muted. How you’re seeing Steve as if he were standing on the opposing side of a tunnel and how the pressure of Sam’s arm on your shoulder vanishes.

Over the past twenty-two days, you’ve convinced yourself that the story of you and Bucky was not meant to be. In your mind, he left and closed the door on the potential of there ever being an ending where you and him were together.

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anonymous asked:

Stiles as a professional cuddler who takes Derek on as a client? (With a side of mutual pining, Laura being a good older sister, and Noah being a good dad.)

*coughs* John…..John. (I AM SORRY, NONNIE. I CAN’T ABIDE BY CANON. I CANT.

I have to say, I really wish there were more fics out there that had this trope because I really, really love it. I think what I love most about it is because it’s all about Derek and his issues with trust and touch. I am very interested in the notion that Derek isn’t comfortable with people touching him after the fire because of what he went through with Kate but he is comfortable with paying someone to touch him because that leaves him in control. 

Laura is the one who suggests a professional cuddler because she knows her brother and Derek is either going to find himself very badly touch starved for years to come or he’s going to fall into another bad-touch sexual relationship out of some guilt ridden punishment trip. There is no in between with Derek. And so, she researches and finds Stiles. She likes him immediately because the people who leave reviews on his website all have one thing in common: that he loves to talk. Laura knows Derek isn’t much of a talker, especially these days, but she thinks it couldn’t hurt to have someone who isn’t afraid of communication, and possibly someone who might actually get Derek to talk back. Lord knows she’s tried to get Derek to talk; to her, to a therapist. Nothing has worked. But maybe this will. 

Derek is hesitant about Stiles - “what kind of name is Stiles anyway?” - but he has to admit, the idea of being held is….kind of nice. No sex. No complications. Just someone he pays to cuddle with him for an hour every week; a simple and smooth transaction that couldn’t possibly lead to anything bad. 

The problem first starts when he sees Stiles because, in one word, he’s gorgeous. Derek is kind of annoyed he doesn’t stop being gorgeous even when he half trips in the hallway and makes a lame cuddling joke, fishing a spoon out of his back pocket and with a truly impressive eyebrow waggle says, “wanna spoon?” Derek privately wonders if Stiles brought the spoon from home, if he opens with that joke with all his new clients, or if he stole the spoon from some coffee shop on the way over, struck by sudden inspiration. Derek is kind of frustrated when he finds himself hoping it’s the second one. 

Stiles is strangely anal about his job. He treats “cuddling procedures” like it’s BDSM, or something. He asks Derek at least thirty questions, only half of which Derek is able to answer without his cheeks colouring:

“Have you ever hired a professional cuddler before?” No.

“Being a werewolf - yes, I can tell you’re a werewolf, don’t look so surprised - would you prefer I didn’t wear any odours? Body spray, cologne, that sort of thing?” Clean. Just, uh, clean is good. 

Would you like me to make a playlist for us to cuddle to? Those are very popular.” No, that’s really not necessary.

How do you feel about versatile spooning options?” Oh. I, um….could you….I mean…..would you do the…..I just want….. “No problem, big guy.”

Their first session is a little awkward and he feels downright silly handing Stiles the money after, but he has to admit, he didn’t….dislike it. In fact, three hours later, he texts Stiles to book another session. By session four, Derek has gotten over his initial embarrassment and just learns to enjoy being held. Stiles talks about a lot of things, tracing his fingers over Derek’s arms, his face, his hands: he talks about why people need contact and why it’s not stupid or something to be made fun of; he talks about Star Wars and his dad; when he finds out Derek likes history, he spends their entire eighth session talking about the Trojan War - “I know it’s not real history. I was going to try and learn about an actual war for you but I got side tracked when I found out, like, half of The Iliad is about two dudes in love. How cool is that???” He then spends an extra forty minutes talking to Derek about queer censorship in history textbooks (somehow managing to work the history of the male circumcision in there). Derek wants to tell him the session is technically over, but for some reason (he’d really rather not confront) he stays quiet and lets Stiles’ voice wash over him, before falling asleep. (He later learns when Laura tried to pay him for the over-time, Stiles had blushed furiously and told her it was on him, before running out of the apartment and muttering something about “rules”.)

Session fifteen is when Derek realises Stiles is the most important person in his life, aside from Laura and Cora. And not only that, but it’s happening again: his heart is racing and his palms are sweating, and what’s worse? He’s daydreaming. Not many people know Derek is a daydreamer. Most people think he probably just sits and broods or occupies every waking hour either working out or reading. Even Laura teases him about it. Derek, however, is a big day dreamer. His romantic day dreams have changed over the years: when he first met Paige, he imagined her at his basket ball games and what prom night might be like; with Kate, he had silly fantasies of introducing her to his family, of teaching her about the full moon and opening up about his history. Derek knows day dreaming is dangerous. At least, for him. It’s always led to bad things. But he can’t help it, even now. 

Because with Stiles it’s different. 

When he day dreams about Stiles, he imagines holding his hand and what it might be like to bury his face in his neck, knowing Stiles would already know what that means because Stiles always knows. And not in some calculating, malicious way, like Kate. It’s a though Stiles files aspects of Derek’s life away like they are facts that might come in handy for a game of trivial pursuit. He plays out silly domestic fantasies in his head where he is trying to make them pancakes and Stiles starts a food war, covering them both in flour and jam. He imagines what it might be like to have Stiles hold him after sex and tell him he’s good, that he did good; imagines hearing Stiles say, “I’ll see you at home” and texting Derek lame jokes throughout the day until he does.   

When Stiles comes over for their 15th session, he’s a mess. He’s obviously been crying and Derek can’t tell why, but he smells strongly of roses. Stiles, like Derek, is pretty skilled at hiding his feelings but the moment he goes to lie down on the bed, he breaks. Derek doesn’t think he could stop crying, even if he wanted to, and even though he knows Stiles probably doesn’t want a client - because that’s what Derek is, a client - seeing him like this, he can’t help but lie down beside him and hold out his arms. Stiles shuffles towards him without even considering it, and Derek doesn’t  care he’s getting tears and snot all over his favourite Henley because the moment he brings a hand up and soothes it up and down Stiles’ back, Stiles melts into him. Utterly trusting. He says something about his mom. 

It’s the best and most painful feeling in the world and Derek is beyond grateful that Stiles isn’t a werewolf, can’t hear how hard his heart is beating or smell the jumble of emotions coursing through him. 

They lie like that for an hour, maybe, before Stiles starts to get restless. He tries apologising, offers Derek a session on the house, but Derek barely hears him, lost. Lost in a confusing bag of mixed emotions and instead of answering Stiles, says, “let’s order pizza”. 

The pizza comes within thirty minutes, and two hours later - half way through the third Harry Potter movie - Stiles leans in and kisses him. It lasts for twelve seconds - Derek doesn’t know why he counts - and when it’s over, Stiles pulls back, eyes wide, and yells something about Derek having the last slice of pizza, before running. Derek listens to him run all the way out of the apartment block and to his Jeep, lips tingling, heart sinking. 

They don’t see each other for four months. Stiles ignores all his phone calls and after a while, Derek gives up. He doesn’t stop day dreaming, though. He takes an almost masochistic pleasure in it - maybe it’s a form of self punishment, who knows. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t count as “growth”. He day dreams to the point that he isn’t sure if Stiles is a figment of his imagination when he shows up at his door soaking wet, like the ending of some cheesy romantic comedy. Derek would laugh at the bitter-sweetness of it; that is, until Stiles’ hands are on his face and he’s talking….and talking…..and talking. Talking about rules and professionalism and “never happened to me before”. He talks until Derek finds himself smiling. He talks until Derek finds his hands shaking, and finally, finally, until he can find it in him to put a finger to Stiles’ lips. 

“Shut up.”

Stiles does.

“If I asked you to kiss me again, would you want to?” 

Stiles swallows, takes a breath. “Depends, are you going to pay me for it?”

Derek raises an eyebrow for appearance sake, says, “only in more kisses”, and then blushes furiously because cheesy flirting is not a thing he does outside of his own head. Except, apparently now it is. And he plans to do much more of it, especially if it makes Stiles laugh like that again. Just….maybe not in public. God though, he loves hearing Stiles laugh. He wants to hear it all the time. Maybe he would risk the PDA. 

“Make a deal with me?” Stiles asks, closing the space between them, mapping out both of Derek’s eyebrows with a curious finger. He smiles, like he’s figured something out about him, just from that. “Buy me a milkshake every Saturday and let me hold your stupid hand during movies and you can have all the cuddling sessions you want for free.”

Derek pretends to consider this, takes Stiles’ free hand and playfully bites down. “Sounds like a good deal,” he whispers. 

Stiles grins. “Oh, I assure you, it is.” 

radio-poem  asked:

I like your hc about Yuuri only wearing shirts and Victor only wearing pants to bed bc 1)they could match every single time (or clash terribly) and 2) together they make a pajama set and i find that weirdly endearing (also, would you be up to sharing more thoughts about sleep talking Victor? Please?)

The full headcanon for the only pants/only shirts thing is basically “Viktor and Yuuri go to the store and jointly decide which pajamas they are going to buy” which means that between the two of them they own only five pajama sets and also they’re all in Viktor’s size because he’s the larger one. This also means that Yuuri sometimes walks into the bedroom wearing a red-black plaid pajama top and Viktor looks down at his own canary-cream (It’s not yellow and white, Yuuri) polkadot bottoms and just says, “No, this can’t happen.”

“But we’re just going to sleep–”

“What if there’s a fire, Yuuri? What will our neighbors think of us, if they see that we can’t even coordinate our sleep clothes? They’ll think we’re dysfunctional. On the brink of divorce.” 

“Oh?” Yuuri’s eye twitches. “Is that what they’ll think?”

“Or worse–that I have no fashion sense.”

Yuuri doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that their neighbors have seen Viktor wearing Lululemon yoga pants with a sweatshirt saying DADDY’S COLD and that any misconceptions they may have had about Viktor’s sense of fashion long ago imploded.

Eventually, Yuuri returns to the closet. He can’t find the canary-cream polkadot shirt. Instead, he tosses on an old practice shirt of Viktor’s so worn and old that it’s almost see-through. The fabric has stretched unevenly along the hem and almost hits his knees in places. He returns to the bedroom and crawls under the blankets. Viktor melts on the spot. By the time Yuuri falls asleep that night, he isn’t wearing anything.

On the subject of Viktor sleep talking, it goes like this:

Yuuri walks in the door on a very cold day in mid-January and Viktor has been sick so he’s been sleeping rather fitfully, tossing and turning and having weird dreams. Today his fever broke, and he’s in what seems to be a deep sleep for the first time in days. Yuuri is very quiet as he makes his way into the kitchen and puts the groceries away.

“Yuuri?” comes from the couch, pitifully, and Yuuri feels shame like he has never felt for the sin of waking his poor sick Vitya.

“Oh Vitya, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri coos, creeping closer to the couch. He’s forgotten about the box of kasha he’s clutching. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, love. Go back to sleep. I’m gonna make dinner.”

“I want soup,” Viktor mumbles. His face is still buried in the back of the couch.

“Okay, baby, I’ll make you some soup.” Yuuri abruptly realizes that he’s holding the box of kasha out in front of him like some sort of offering; he sets it down on the coffee table and kneels beside his languishing husband. “Yakov and Yura send their love.” When Yuuri told them that Viktor had taken sick over the weekend, Yakov grunted and let a look of concern cross over his features for exactly six seconds before clearing it and grunting, “Mustard plasters.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mustard. Mix it with flour and water, put it on his back–it clears the system.” Yakov waved vaguely in the direction of his own chest. “Is he coughing? Yes, mustard plasters.”

Yura just rolled his eyes. Yuuri knows enough about him to understand that this is Yura’s reaction to any and all emotions. When Yuuri gathered his things at the end of the day, he found in his bag a recipe for chicken soup featuring intense amounts of garlic, and also a list of five stores in the area where red caviar is available at a reasonable price. 

Russian remedies are just as odd as American ones.

“Yakov,” Viktor mumbles presently, and seems to nod. “He’s good?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri coos, tracing his fingers softly up and down Viktor’s back. “He told me to put mustard on your back. I think he was trying to help.”

“No,” Viktor mutters, burrowing his face closer to the couch. “No mustard.”

“Why don’t we try it, baby? You sound so miserable. It could help, he said it clears your lungs.”

“No mustard in the soup,” Viktor grumbles.

Yuuri’s hand stops on his back. “What?”

“Don’t let Yakov put mustard in the soup,” Viktor insists. He rolls over then, and Yuuri sees that his eyes are closed. The flush high on his cheeks says his fever may have returned. “Don’t let him, Yuuri.” He sounds distressed.

“Okay, shh, I won’t. It’s fine.” Yuuri leans down his kisses his head. “You’re fine, Vityusha.”

When he pulls back, Viktor’s eyes are open. Cloudy with sickness, but aware. he roughly murmurs, “Kitten? When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago.” Yuuri brushes back Viktor’s hair.

“I was having the strangest dream,” Viktor mumbles, blinking hard and clearing sleep from his eyes, “About Yakov…and he was in our kitchen…”

It takes a lot of effort for Yuuri not to laugh. 

This isn’t the last time Yuuri hears Viktor talk in his sleep. Viktor’s subconsciousness has some interesting opinions on figure skating politics, and also Yuuri once convinces a sleeping Viktor to tell him where he plans to take them on their third wedding anniversary because He Doesn’t Like Surprises and he needs to know if he should pack a jacket, for God’s sake Vitya.

Sleep-Viktor also likes to lovingly coo into Yuuri’s ear in the middle of the night, “I love you, marry me.”

“We are married,” Yuuri tells him, patting his hip. 

“Really?”

“Yes, for about five years now. Remember? I wore white. You wore a blue rose in your lapel. Yakov was there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Viktor mumbles. “That was fun. We should do it again.”

“Go to sleep, Vitya.”

“Mnph.”

To all my Christian trans and nb siblings:

Happy Easter. I know that today is a mixed bag of emotions. So shout out to:

- the closeted trans guys and enbys trying their hardest to find a way to not wear a dress to church, especially if your parents are pressuring you into it
- anyone who has finally managed to grow out a decent amount of body hair and is trying to find a way not to shave their legs without being questioned
- closeted trans girls and enbys wishing they could wear a pretty Easter dress
- basically, everyone who is having to conform to cishet formal wear standards that don’t match how they identify. It sucks.
- to those of us who can’t find a queer-inclusive church but really want to attend services on Easter
- to those of us who go to service frequently, but can’t be out at church
- to those who have to attend family gatherings today and get deadnamed and called the wrong pronouns
- to those who have to attend family gatherings today and just want to watch the kids hunt eggs, not answer passive-aggressive questions about gender identity
- to those who are out in church and feel they have to constantly prove that they are just as much of a Christian as the other members of the congregation
- to those who can’t bring themselves to attend services today because of the hate and/or dysphoria that would accompany it

Easter is a beautiful reminder of Jesus’s love for us and the sacrifices He made. We should be able to have a mindful, happy day. It’s terrible when transphobia takes that from us. Remember that Jesus died and rose for everyone, including us. We are fearfully and wonderfully made, and God celebrates us and supports us. Try your best to remember God’s love for you today, even if others don’t love you like they should. Draw your strength from that. Happy Easter.

And we see Carey, inconsolable at the unceremonious death of her best friend. She’s in her private quarters with her girlfriend Killian…
—  Griffin McElroy, completely destroying my heart with one swoop
theverge.com
An artificial womb successfully grew baby sheep — and humans could be next
Inside what look like oversized ziplock bags strewn with tubes of blood and fluid, eight fetal lambs continued to develop — much like they would have inside their mothers.
By Rachel Becker

I’m a mixed bag of emotions… I wanted to write down what I thought, but it has gotten so deep that maybe it’s best to hear what you guys think instead.

Highlights from Talks Machina (Episode 100)

Since the inimitable @eponymous-rose is off doing piddly little things like preparing for her PhD defense tomorrow, I’m going to do my best to fill her shoes with tonight’s Talks Machina. We start late, so at least that’s the same!

  • Everyone walks out with massive balloons that spell “28″ for the 28th episode of TM. Brian is given a paper crown. It glitters.
  • Everyone else also wears paper crowns after the break, except for Travis because his head is too big for them.
  • Ep. 100 tied with 55 and 61 for the most nat 20s in one episode. 100 was also the longest to date, beating episode 88 by about 8 minutes.
  • Lady Briarwood has been missing for 546 real days.
  • The players have spent 95 real hours in combat since the stream started. Earlier, Liam demanded Brian announce he has the most nat 20s so far, even over Percy [citation needed].
  • Brian plans to have a full-cast TM extravaganza after the show completes.
  • When the game first started, Scanlan’s attraction to Pike was primarily based on them being similar sizes, though he flirted with almost everyone. However, he was growing on Pike a lot before he left, which is part of why it hurt her so badly. 
  • Keyleth has mixed emotions about Scanlan’s return, which Marisha feels matches her personal growth into True Neutral.
  • Travis, Marisha, and Ashley all agree the relationship with Scanlan probably won’t go back to the way it was before.
  • Travis loved and hated the double ones. “It was so perfect.” He only has one set of dice, so he doesn’t believe in dice jail. Ashley is envious of both his dice simplicity and Laura’s colorful dice “candy bag.”
  • Scanlan’s praying to Sarenrae was a moment where Pike’s heart softened. They’re all still nervous about where things will go with him, but that was a big step. Grog and Marisha (not Keyleth) think he’s full of it.
  • Grog doesn’t think of Lionel as a rival, but is annoyed that this “younger, hotter version of him” is getting all the attention. He doesn’t think Grog can begin to work through his anger with Scanlan until Lionel leaves.
  • Marisha describes Grog as Lennie from Mice and Men in terms of casuing heartbreak.
  • If Scanlan saved Pike’s life at the expense of someone else in the party, she would be furious. She says “Momstah” very begrudgingly.
  • Travis loves Pike and Grog’s bromance. Ashley loves how their backstory started as a bit of a joke, but has become something very real.
  • All three of them were terrified the reveal was going to be Allura.
  • Marisha wasn’t worried when Pike was Feebleminded because she knew she had Greater Restoration. Ashley was more worried because Liam was insisting she’d be stuck that way for a month.
  • Marisha didn’t expect the Silas disguise to work, she just wanted to surprise Delilah enough to allow VM to attack first.
  • Ashley thinks Pike is capable of forgiving Delilah if the opportunity presents itself, but if not, she’ll totally kill her.
  • Keyleth is afraid to go through the orb due to her last experience.
  • No one knew what the Prismatic Sphere was. Keyleth thought it was a fire wall. Grog had planned to run headlong into it on his next turn.
  • Grog basically shut down when Scanlan arrived the way he did (in disguise, lying). Travis didn’t really know how he would react until Pike said she was angry too.
  • Pike is worried that the conversation with Sarenrae was not a hopeful one. She feels this mission is now something VM must do together.
  • No one feels like they’ve been on for a hundred episodes. Marisha and Ashley measure time as before and after CR.
  • Ashley wishes she could go back and tell Pike not to miss the opportunity to tell someone she loved them, because “once the moment passes, it’s gone.”

TM: After Dark, Equally As Dark Edition

  • Travis hosts! Grog would have never shown Lionel the Deck, but he considered making Scanlan draw a card to get back on his good side.
  • Everyone hopes for an evil version of VM in the Shadowfell.
  • Ashley would like to have a glittery beard. Brian chews on his.
  • There are still tin pots and pans in the Bag of Holding from the original days when Travis was excitedly shoving everything in it.
  • Marisha is asked to give another inspirational hug. She describes Brian as smelling of fresh laundry and despair.
  • If Ashley were transported to Exandria, she would be most excited about real pointy ears. Travis would like to see the weapons. Marisha would like to know how to make decorative antler headdresses stay in place.
  • At one point during the costumed photo shoot, the girls were trying to look pretty in a meadow, so Travis walked into the woods and flexed a lot.
  • Marisha’s notes are very unorganized. She does do quick sketches and “sets the scene” at the top of the page for quick reference. She used to keep notes on her phone in the home game, but switched to paper for the stream. She liked being able to quickly search those notes.
  • Brian really likes the show Falling Skies. Marisha has been binging Treehouse Masters.
We Don’t Talk Anymore

Originally posted by the9397

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Jimin or the other way around??)

Word Count: 2.469

A/N: this was requested before I went on hiatus when jungkook released the cover but I just now had the time to write it. I hope you enjoy it!

also I didn’t proof read yet, I’m too lazy rn please bare with me


Strolling down the street, head down, you made your way to your university. One arm clutched around the cup of coffee and the other one gripping your bag tightly, knuckles turning white. The tension in your body was eating you out alive, making it impossible to function properly. 

A piercing sound made its way to your ears, causing you to flinch and letting your cup fall to the ground. The coffee splattered all across the sidewalk, passersby throwing you judging looks while your hand roamed through your pockets, searching for the device that was equivalent to the noise that startled you.

Finally being able to grasp it in between your shaking fingers, you held it to you ear, taking a deep breath. 

“Hello?”

“Hey babe, how’s your morning?”, his voice echoed through the device, sounding too eager for your still sleepy state.

“Mhh fine”, you mumbled while trying to dodge other passersby on the sidewalk that walked in the opposite direction. “You just startled me and I accidentally spilled all my coffee on the floor.” 

A pout formed on your lips as you realized you’d had to survive the whole day without your daily cup of sweet bitterness to give you a boost of energy. Your day was practically ruined.   

His angelic laugh made a smile appear on your face and you felt your heart flutter at that sound. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you (Y/N)”, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I’ll come by after your first period and bring you a new one, does that sound good?”

You sighed in defeat. “Jimin, it’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry. It’s just coffee”, you laughed. “I can survive without it.”

His grin was practically audible through the phone. “No, you wouldn’t (Y/N) and we both know that. Your unbearable without your morning coffee. I’ll be there.” 

Walking through the gates of your university, you nodded to some acquaintances and smiled. “How do I even deserve you Park Jimin? Thank you, really.”

He laughed. “Anything for my princess. Now go get to your class, we’ll see each other in a bit!”

You giggled and hung up before letting your phone slide back into your bag and taking a seat in the back row. Still in a lovely daze, you started to unpack and placed your paper and pen in front of you, ready to take notes for once during this lecture. It was one of the hardest to concentrate at and even though you told yourself each time before class to focus, that it’s important for your future, it always ended in a disaster. Not once had you been able to listen to what the professor said, let alone take notes. Your nerves were wrecked every time after class and the only thing that could calm you down was Jimin.

All of a sudden your hackles raised and you knew he was in the same room. He had entered and was looking directly at you, making your whole body react to his gaze even though you hadn’t looked at him yet. You didn’t have to turn to his direction to know that he was there. Your body knew. 

Nervously, you started chewing on your bottom lip and kneading your hands together, trying to hold your gaze to the front. If you looked, this lecture wouldn’t be different from all the others. You had to concentrate. You had to stay strong, You had to stay focused. 

A light breeze made goosebumps appear on your arms and your heart started aching when the smell of his cologne hit your nose. Slowly you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply and remembering…


“I could stay like this forever, you know. You, me and this bed”, his deep early morning voice lulled you in. You softly hummed in response, snuggling closer to his chest and inhaling his unique scent. Butterflies danced in the pit of your stomach and electricity shot through your body wherever his fingers decided to caress your naked skin. 

“Of course we’d need to hire someone then to cook for us, otherwise we’d starve to death”, he added, making you giggle. Your eyes shot up and his hands started playing with your hair while looking at you lovingly.

You loved moments like these. He treated you like the most precious thing anyone could ever hold. He made you feel like the Queen on Earth that nobody could ever compare to. You felt safe and loved. All of his being was devoted to you in those few seconds and you couldn’t think of any better feeling than that. His arms were your home. His eyes were your savior. His lips your treasure. He was everything to you and you were everything to him. 

Just the two of you.

“We could just hire Jin. I bet he’d gladly cook for his youngest child, making sure he doesn’t starve to death”, he laughed at your comment, placing soft kisses all over your face.

“I could never starve to death with you in my arms”, he muttered and you playfully hit his chest, making him gasp in fake shock.

“Geez, you’re so cheesy sometimes”, you said while hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Only for you (Y/N)”, he laughed, pulling you closer, enwrapping you in his scent. 

Heaven was nothing compared to his arms.


A high pitched giggle made you come back from your memories and you turned your head to the source of noise, eyebrows furrowed and heart aching. One of your classmates was sitting on his lap, throwing her head back and laughing dramatically while he grinned silently, hands placed on her waist and softly tickling her.

“Stop it Jungkook, you know how ticklish I am!”, she squealed, playfully hitting his arms and smiling widely at him. 

“I know, that’s why I’m doing it”, he answered before continuing his mission.

The professor turned his microphone on, making the girl slide back onto her chair and Jungkook turn his gaze away from her, smile fading instantly. His eye bags looked horrible, eyes sad, almost emotionless. His face was pale and lips chapped. All life seemed to be sucked out of him, just like you were feeling. 

His gaze went up and your eyes met, locking for a small eternity. You saw the blood rush through his veins back to his face again, giving his cheeks a pink tint, eyes sprinkling with all kinds of emotions and lips turning to a nostalgic smile. Your heart fluttered just like it used to with a mix of a painful feeling that seemed as if someone was slamming a knife into it over and over again. Your eyes started to water but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. He seemed to suck you in, not letting you go no matter how hard you tried to focus on your professor instead of Jungkook.

Until the girl nudged him in the side and he flinched, breaking eye contact and making you release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Quickly, you turned to the front, grabbing pen and paper and eagerly starting to write down whatever the professor was telling. Your mind was still in another dimension but your just automatically wrote everything down that you got a glimpse of. You could feel Jungkook’s stare from the other side of the room, yet you didn’t act on it. It burned holes into your ski but you stayed focused - or at least you tried to.

Throughout the whole lecture you could feel his gaze on you, so when class was finally over, you quickly grabbed your things together and ran out of the lecture hall. Almost running into your boyfriend who was waiting in front of the door, Jimin grabbed your wrist before you could splash the second coffee all over both of you.

“Wow there, slow down”, he laughed and placed a small kiss on your lips, handing you the coffee. 

You grabbed it thankfully, shooting him an apologetic smile and embracing him in a tight hug. That was all you needed in that moment. No coffee, no nothing. Just Jimin holding you tight.

He sensed that and pulled you close, still standing in the middle of the hallway, softly caressing your back, placing a kiss on top of your head. You stayed like that for a while before you looked up at him and gently smiled.

“Thank you”, you spoke, making him look a little lost.

“For what?”, Jimin asked and raised an eyebrow.

You chuckled. “Everything.”

That’s when a huge smile spread across his face, pulling you close into his arms again and softly rocking you from side to side, holding you like you were his world.

And you were. 


“Jimin!”, you called for him from your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror while adjusting the tight dress, already looking for a pair of shoes to wear.

His figure appeared in the door frame a second later and he looked at you questioningly. “What’s up?”

You stopped in your tracks and pulled another dress out of your wardrobe.

“Which one should I wear tonight? This black one from when we ate dinner with your parents in that really fancy Italian restaurant or the red one that I’m wearing right now?”, you turned to face him and saw his face. 

“When did you get this dress (Y/N)?”, his eyes were big and mouth slightly open, hands scratching his neck - a habit he had when he was nervous. 

“Mhh I don’t quite remember”, you said while he bit down on his lips, gaze wandering up and down your body. But boy, did you remember….


“(Y/N) have you seen m-”, Jungkook stopped in his tracks as he stepped into your bedroom, seeing you standing there in the gift he got you.

“I see you already tried your Valentine’s gift on”, he smirked before placing his bag down onto the floor and making his way over to where you were standing. His hands gently caressed the material of the dress, following your curves, exploring it as if it was all new to him. 

You hummed in response and turned back to the mirror in front of you, Jungkook holding you from behind. A smirk was placed on your lips as he started leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, biting down every once in a while.

“You know, I was wondering if this dress was maybe more of a gift for yourself than for me”, you jokingly teased, making him smirk onto your skin before sliding his hands down your body to the hem of the dress.

“I’m not gonna lie, it is a pretty convenient gift don’t you think? You get something new to wear as you always complain that you don’t have enough nice things to wear and I get to look at you in it”, cocked his eyebrows at you. “And occasionally taking if off of you again”, he winked into the mirror, making you laugh and turn to face him again.

“I thought you had practice tonight”, you smirked, letting your index finger slide down his toned chest covered by one of his typical white shirts. Purposely you pressed your body against his, letting him feel every single curve of yours.

“They won’t mind if I’m late. After all it’s still Valentine’s Day and we didn’t get to the best part of today yet, did we?”, he leaned in before you could answer but you knew you didn’t need to answer. He knew your response anyway.


Hand in hand you stepped into the restaurant, your heels clacking on the floor while the waiter led the way to the already full table. Heads turned to the two of you but you tried your best to ignore it. Jimin squeezed your hand, sensing how uncomfortable you were feeling. You looked at him and he smiled at you reassuringly, making a smile appear on your lips as well.

As you arrived on the table, everybody greeted you happily before you sat down on the bench side, next to Hoseok who was already smiling at you brightly, making you feel more at ease than you would have thought. He was he definition of an angel and could make anybody happy, no matter in what kind of mood they were in. 

Jimin was sat to your left, so when you accidentally kicked someone’s feet underneath the table while adjusting your seating position, your gaze automatically shot up to dramatically apologize until you met his eyes.

He looked at you as if he was trying to take a mental photograph, regret washing over his face and small tears well up before he could blink them away.

“You look really beautiful tonight (Y/N)”, he complimented you, while holding eye contact, searching for something specific in your eyes. 

“You really do (Y/N! I really love your dress, where did you get it from?”, the girl from your lecture, his girlfriend, asked you. An honest smile was plastered on her face and she seemed sincerely interested.

You smiled back at her. “Thank you! Sadly, I don’t remember where I got this from… I think it might have been a gift or something”, you smiled apologetically and she shrugged before turning her attention back to Taehyung who was sitting on her other side.

As your gaze wandered away from her you noticed Jungkook’s expression. His jaw was clenched, hands hidden under the table but you were sure they were tensed as well. His eyes full of hurt, he glared at you before sinking his look and you noticed a small tear rolling down his cheek that he was quick to wipe away before anybody else noticed. 

At his sight, your heart started to ache like it was about to burn down in flames and every inch of your body longed for his touch. You wanted to comfort him and tell him that of course you did remember. That you could never forget, not him and not anything he had done for you.      

You flinched when Jimin placed his soft hand on your thigh, making you turn your attention to him. 

“Are you okay?”, he asked concerned, motioning to your tensed posture. 

“Yes Chimchim, I’m fine”, you faked a giggle, making him sigh in relief and place a soft kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to Jin who had started to tell his famous jokes. 

You shot Jungkook one last look before turning to Hoseok and starting a conversation with him. You had to distract yourself otherwise you’d go crazy in a matter of minutes.

You hoped that Jungkook would do the same. Distract himself. Do something else than stare at you throughout the whole night.

Jimin couldn’t find out. Nobody could find out.

©jiminelli

Comments from some of Ted Bundy’s victims’ family members following his execution in 1989:

“I suspect it will trouble us for the rest of our lives.” -Dave Rancourt, father of Susan Rancourt.

“It’s a bag of mixed emotions when we find relief in a man’s death. We all feel justice has been done. All of his escapades– it was like a sharp knife twisting at us. It was being done to all of us- all his victims. If anything good comes of this, we won’t allow this to happen again.” -Vivian Rancourt, mother of Susan Rancourt.

(The spokesman-Review, January 25, 1989)


“I haven’t thought about forgiving him. How could you forgive somebody who hurts your child? I’m not that gracious an individual.” -Edie Hawkins, mother of Georgeann Hawkins.

(Green Valley News, June 11, 2014)


“I view him pretty much as cancer that has to be removed.” -Donald E. Blackburn, father of Janice Ott.

(The Telegraph, January 24, 1998)


“I feel kind of numb in a way. My daughter’s murder was taken care of. He paid for what he did. It seems like I was sentenced to a lifetime of waiting. Now there’s really nothing to wait for.” -Eleanore Rose, mother of Denise Naslund.

(The Spokesman-Review, January 25, 1989)


“I was shocked when he confessed. I just wasn’t ready to hear it. Nancy was such a sensitive person, so kind. If she were alive today, she’d probably feel pity for Bundy for being such a sick person.” -Connie Wilcox, mother of Nancy Wilcox.

(People, February 6, 1989)


“I had anticipated a much different feeling that I had. I’d felt some of the bitterness would be relieved, but that isn’t the case. I think I’ll carry it to my grave.” -Dean Kent, father of Debbie Kent.

(Boca Raton News, December 24, 1989)


“You never really forgive someone for something like that. You just try to put it behind you. It’s not important to me now. The thing I’d like to have back, I can’t have.” -Robert Campbell, father of Caryn Campbell.

(The Harvard Crimson, January 25, 1989)


“He may have deprived the world of something exceptional. Every single person in this country may have lost something when that kid was killed. I suppose you can say that there is a 99 percent chance that it’s over. But I’m hesitant to write it off, period. There’s always that 1 percent chance.” -Edward Culver, father of Lynette Culver.

(People, February 6, 1989)

From “Ted Bundy: A Visual Timeline”

Hello, I’d like to talk to you about Jack being a sappy romantic. Like he plans the big things carefully; the 15 bouquets each Valentine’s Day, and the trip to Italy that he’s gonna give Bitty on his birthday, and the time he set up a picnic at faber because ‘it’s been two years since the first time we had checking practice’. But the smaller things are what lets Bitty know that he’s found something Really Special in this relationship. It’s in the postcards Jack sends Bitty from different states when he’s on the road that just say 'I miss you, can’t wait to hold you again’, or in how if he hears a song that makes him think of Bitty he’ll write it down until he has enough songs to make a small mix cd, or in how he’ll always put a sweater or t-shirt in Bitty’s bag before he has to leave because he knows it makes Bitty feel better when they miss each other the most. Just… romantic stuff Jack does that he doesn’t see as a big deal but that makes Bitty go “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you in my life”. Thank you for your time.

Playful Banter (Peter Parker x Reader)

A/N: holy hell you guys literally I got almost 200 notes on my first fic in literally the first day so thank you guys so much for supporting that and actually enjoying my writing style?? It encourages me to keep writing so here’s another fic for you all because I love you!! Also feel free to request things cuz it’ll help me with ideas. (And also just talk to me if you want because I’m lonely)

Warnings: swearing (lots of it pretty much exclusively from the reader), dumb fluff

Request: No

Summary: Lots of sarcasm (and sass I suppose) especially from the reader (because that how I am and how I write I apologize if that doesn’t represent you). Basically the reader and Peter are always playfully insulting each other but they both do it as a sort of cover denial for their feelings towards each other

  • You and Peter are like lowkey insulting each other 24/7
  • But in a playful way
  • “Why do you look so sad, Y/N?”
  • “Because I saw your face and it reminded me of death”
  • But it’s mutual
  • It took some time, but eventually Peter got better at it (with practice though because he’s too much of a sweetheart)
  • “What happened to your hand, Parker?”
  • “I decided it would be less painful to slam my hand in a car door than talk to you but unfortunately I’m dealing with both”
  • “Fuck off”
  • He always comes up to you later to make sure that he didn’t actually hurt your feelings
  • “I was joking I promise”
  • “Peter, I know
  • “OKAY, butIwannabereallysure”
  • “PETER”
  • “Sorry”

Keep reading

no ok forgive me for bringing this up but i’m rereading deathly hallows and i have a lot of thoughts like

it’s honestly no surprise people who have only seen (or like predominately watch) the films love snape. why did the films not have snape call lily a mudblood? why did the films not include any notion that snape was really a death eater fresh out of hogwarts, that his friends were death eaters, that he was the one to provide voldemort with the prophecy? if you watch the films, and either forget about the books or have no knowledge of them, then snape does seem like a very tragic and heroic character. and i’m not saying that his character wasn’t interesting, i’m not even saying it’s a problem if you DO like snape

but erasing all of his characterizations from the books makes him unrecognizable. snape fell to the same issue that hermione did in the films – they became characters who were not at all like their book counterparts. hermione, who was bossy and dreaded any sort of failure and was relatable with like anxiety and shit, became the ultimate warrior-woman who could do no wrong in the films. snape, who bullied his students, called his ‘best friend’ a slur, but actually had a more fleshed-out background and characterization, became a martyr who marginally picked on kids and made snide remarks and died for unrequited love in the films. in the films, snape literally appears as the innocent kid who got bullied for no reason and completely ‘deserved’ lily’s love because he never insulted her. the books, because snape was actually, y’know, written well, provided the conflict. they made you have to decide if you actually liked snape or not, they made you unsure if you felt sorry for him or not. the films stripped all that away and said “here’s the poor kid, oh no his crush doesn’t love him back :(( he was a double-agent how brave he died for love!” and the craziest part is like there’s no emotional build-up between lily and snape in the films (or books honestly like as i’m reading the prince’s tale there’s no real romance but that’s beside the point) but like particularly the films because we don’t see young lily and snape talking, we don’t see them argue or any real aspect of friendship. we’re just supposed to understand that snape really really loved lily which apparently really really made snape a good guy. and that’s just not the case?

but what i LOVE about the books is that snape IS a grey character. i don’t want to have to like a character just because that’s the only option. it’s what harry struggles with when he experiences SWM and sees what his father was like. it’s about seeing a character for all of their traits and figuring out how you feel about it. and that being said, snape was an absolute bag of dicks. it’s all written there. what he did as a spy WAS brave, his death WAS sad, but that doesn’t automatically negate all of snape’s characteristics. cause the way i see it if i knew someone like snape in real life i wouldn’t automatically forgive him if i found out he was in love with my mom and was a double-agent, i’d still have very mixed emotions. but like when you see snape FEEL remorse it actually seems really cool because you can see he’s experienced some sort of growth as a character. and before you point it out, i’m not here to justify james potter either. i’m not even here to say one was better than the other because if that’s what you think you’ve missed the entire point of my post

what i’m here to say is i’m really mad at the films for stripping the actual content of who snape was and what he did, and how like snape’s complex character from the books is what MAKES him interesting

10 Years (The Reunion II)

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Mention of sex, angsts, swearing

A/N: This is an AU that I am very much enjoying writing, please let me know what you think of it!

Tagging: @nervousmemzie  @apollogirl13 @janeerikabrady @nerdishstylist @typingtwombly @maddie110201 @ashleyswriting @ashleyjeanvanheel @dtescohmi @atlas-of-the-world  @archiekins-ronnie @itsall-inmy-head @darlingimafangirl @ivette29 @henrietteoaks

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (you are here) / Part 4

masterlist

Gif by @dylanholyhellobrien


The moment the sun shined through your window, Stiles’ eyes flickered adjusting to the light. It was only five am, but he needed to wake up early, to spend as much time with you as possible. His eyes traveled over to the lingering three suitcases, your life packed away in them. Your walls were a bare pink, and they taunted him.

Keep reading

US vs UK healthcare

I am not the smartest person in the world, nor even close to the smartest person I know. Nor have I visited the vast majority of countries on this magnificent planet. But I did happen to move from the US to the U.K. two and a half years ago at the age of 37, i.e. after almost four decades of inhabiting an incredibly hairy human body. Thus I’ve had a good deal of experience as a patient, or as they call you in the US, a consumer of American healthcare before moving to the UK to experience the NHS for two-plus years as a father of three, a husband of a woman whose reproductive system is more glorious and has more complex needs than my own, and as a person whose own body is subject to the ravages of gravity, time, and secret Oreo milkshakes from Five Guys.
What I’m getting at is that I’m in a pretty good position to speak with some degree of clarity on the NHS as it compares to the American healthcare system. And here’s the verdict: the NHS is superior. That isn’t to say it’s perfect; no healthcare system is or can be. People (myself included) have and will continue to complain about their healthcare, wherever they receive it, because medicine is treating your body, or your loved one’s body. It is not performing the far less important and less fraught tasks of selling you a car or fixing your mobile’s broken screen or painting your house or making you a sandwich (though to be fair both the NHS or UCLA Santa Monica Hospital in Los Angeles will make you a reasonably good sandwich if you have to stay in hospital.) Medicine is treating your body! Your hearing, your intestines, your tits! Sometimes even your… nodes! The delicacy of this, and the emotions involved are going to leave you with a mixed bag of feelings, even if you achieve the optimal results of whatever it is you went in for.
​I should also make clear that I’m comparing the US healthcare system with the NHS of today. The NHS constantly in the headlines for being cash-strapped and worse than it was in the past. Is it? It sounds to me like it is, but I don’t personally know, and that’s not the purpose of this piece. The purpose of this piece is to tell you that the NHS of this exact moment in 2017 is better that the private healthcare systems in the US. (I have to pluralize “systems” because there is, sadly, no one unified “system” in the US, much to the detriment of so many millions of Americans. I must also make clear that most Americans receive their healthcare privately, unlike the U.K.)
​How is it better? I will say right away that just like in the U.K., my loved ones and I have received generally very good medical care in the US. The American doctors and nurses are mostly kind people, working hard, sincerely interested in helping others. Unfortunately these doctors and nurses are paid with money the hospital receives from health insurance companies. And health insurance companies are motivated by profit, not by successfully setting your broken shoulder or curing your daughter’s leukemia. Those results aren’t discussed in their shareholders’ calls. And insurance companies don’t pay for all your care either. My wife and I, who had what’s considered excellent insurance in the US, received bills for about $1,300 after each of our first two kids were born. When we were in the US on holiday recently, our youngest required an emergency ultrasound on his kidneys. As we’ve been in the UK for years now, we don’t have American health insurance anymore and I had to pay a $500 deposit before they would do the test. On my baby’s kidneys. In the richest country in the world, in which I still pay plenty of taxes as a citizen. Also it was my baby’s kidneys if I haven’t already said that.
​As an aside, that same baby was our first to be born in the UK, with the help of a young Scottish midwife in a hijab. A midwife who, I’ll add, did a better job than both the doctors who delivered our first two kids at UCLA Santa Monica Hospital. If there are better people than British midwives on this planet, I have yet to meet them.
​I’ve digressed a bit, or perhaps not, but I suppose these anecdotes only bolster my case. The main point is this: if our bodies and minds are connected as modern medicine insists, the stress one feels as an American worrying about how you’ll pay for your healthcare – or whether you can even get it – shortens your life and reduces its quality much more than the wait for knee replacement surgery on the NHS does. I used knee replacement surgery as an example because if you need emergency surgery on your brain or your heart, you won’t wait on the NHS; you’ll have world-class doctors doing their best to fix you right away.
​Fifteen years ago, I had to max out two credit cards and borrow a third from mom to pay for surgery to put a pin in a broken wrist after a car accident. (My insurance company had dropped my coverage after the accident because I was generating too many bills for them. That was 100% legal before the Affordable Care Act, aka “Obamacare” came into effect. The Obamacare which President-Elect Trump and the Republican Congress have pledged to repeal, mind you.

​Now before you send me flowers because you agree so vehemently with what I’ve written, or alternately, to tell me via Twitter to make love to myself because an NHS doctor once sewed your arm back on upside down, nobody asked me to write this and I have nothing to gain from it. I’m just a (nearly) forty-year-old comedian who does a graceful, elaborate jig every time my wife or kids or I visit a GP, an A and E, a birth centre, or an operating theatre and don’t have to worry if we’ll A) receive the care we need or B) be able to afford it, even if we have insurance.
​Americans forego care and medicine that their physicians prescribe, because of cost. They also commit suicide because of medical debt. It’s hard to hold in one’s mind the idea that those things can and do happen in a country as wealthy as the United States.

​I hesitate to end this piece with a call to action, though I know what I’d do if I were a U.K. citizen and something as remarkable as the NHS were under threat. I pay taxes here too, but I’m not British, so it’s up to you, if you care. I wouldn’t wish sickness on anyone, but you might consider imagining yourself or your child moving or traveling to the US and getting sick or being in an accident. Then imagine that already miserable experience magnified because you’re marinating in the fear that you won’t be able to pay for your care. Or maybe you can with a credit card, but then you can’t keep up with the payments so you begin to receive aggressive phone calls from the company the hospital sold your debt to. Maybe you get taken to court.
​If that’s not something you’d like to experience, and you think the NHS of today is closer to that scenario than the NHS of ten years ago, or if you think that there are those in government or on the boards of private healthcare corporations who might be okay with that sort of future unfolding, what might you do about it?

the merciless flaw | three

pairing: sehun x reader
genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst?, series
summary: the clock counts down the years, days and hours left until your being will be smudged from existence. not wiped, but smudged, because you will be remembered by your saviour; your soulmate

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

A/N: shes back with more cliff hangers

Originally posted by veriloquentmind

Creasing your brow, you intently focused once again. With each frustrating second you desperately grasping onto the slight hope within you that his thoughts would reach you soon.

Mimicking your previous attempts, it was to no avail. The only thoughts surrounding your head were your own frustrated ones.

Sehun was blocking you out.

It didn’t make sense to you. Not one ounce of it. With a harsh rub of your eyes, memories of blurry conversations trickled into your mind. Conversations that, at the time, didn’t hold importance to you. It was only now you wished you had listened to the people around you complain about being blocked out. All you knew was it meant your soulmate purposely didn’t allow you to hear their thoughts.

A weak smile grew on your face, you remembered when you first heard Sehun’s thoughts. The way it startled you but sparked an intriguing fire within you, but it seemed so distant. So far away from you, something that you felt you couldn’t relate to anymore. Many people would believe it meant their soulmate was keeping secrets, wanting their true intentions to be unknown; without billions of soulmates, of course that statement was true with some. For you? For you, you were immensely certain it wasn’t. Not when with every breath in, every breath out, every beat of your heart, every though passing your mind was for Sehun. The person who allowed your existence to carry on with its path, the path that belonged to him too.

You loved him. Weeks had passed since your declaration of love, his reaction would have left others despondent but you knew Sehun. He was shy, very thoughtful and though he may not have announced his love verbally, you knew and believed he loved you too. 

Melting away your worries as best as you could, you mustered up the energy to proceed with your day after your failed attempts to hear Sehun’s soothing voice fill your head. 


You dawdled between the aisles, hoping it would keep your mind occupied. The icy air from the freezers sent chills through your body, cooling your overheating mind but also forcing you to move away. 

With a dry sigh, the realisation you had no reason to be here any longer hit you. The irking feeling of being watched provoked you to quicken your pace, the sudden increase in speed mixed with an uncomfortable turning of your stomach made your heart beat faster.

The shakiness in your hands increased your nervousness, with clammy palms you payed for your groceries. An equally shaky thank you falling from your lips as you began walking away with a single bag. You were unsure why such an uneasy emotion drowned you but you were thankful with each step you felt relief.

Passing through the automatic doors, you were hounded by loud barks. The unexpected sounds startling you and your already rapid heartbeat. Raising your hand, you rested it upon your chest as if it would slow down its rushing speed. Your eyes immediately fell onto the source of your shock. 

Vivi. Had you not been so pleasantly surprised, you would have questioned why he was there. You quickly crouched down and pet him, a large smile pulling at your lips. He happily jumped towards you, straining against his tied leash. His yapping eliciting your own laughter. You were so distracted that you didn’t realise the figure standing behind you.

“Y/N?” 

Looking up, you saw Sehun. His expression one you did not recognise, but you could tell it wasn’t pleasant. Standing up, you replied - “It’s been a while,” You smiled.

He lightly laughed at you mentioning his strange absence. “Sorry about that, baby. I just, you know, haven’t been feeling great. I’m sorry for not speaking much, I didn’t want you to worry.” Observing his features, you realised he did look worn out, tired, worried. 

Not wanting him to assume you were upset, you quickly explained it was okay. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. I just hoped you would have told me because, um, I just…I missed you.” Your gaze fell to the ground in embarrassment. 

Smiling at your shyness, he placed his warm palm over your cheek; his thumb lightly grazed over your cheek silently telling you not to feel so shy. “I missed you too, Y/N.” 

Pushing your cheek into his hand, you smiled. You pulled at his jacket to bring him closer. “Are you busy today?” Your voice quiet, still surrounded by remnants of embarrassment.

Leaning in, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’m free tonight. I’ll come over, hope you don’t mind. For now I’ve got to go though,” He whispered, his lips brushing your forehead before he, to your dismay, pulled away. 

You stepped back and watched him untie Vivi’s leash efficiently, as if he was in a rush. Turning back to you, he blew you a kiss, and jogged away. Leaving you in a rose tinted stupor, a lazy smile painting your face.

Reaching his car, Sehun impatiently opened the door. Carefully shutting the door after Vivi had jumped in and he had placed his small shopping bag in. Walking to the front, he opened the door to the driver’s seat and pushed himself in. His hands were shaky, he gulped. With a lick of his lips, he turned his head to the side, watching her with a worried gaze. Her long hair obstructed his view, yet he was certain her eyes were set on you.

“So it’s her, Hunnie?”