light red over black

Mark Rothko, Light Red Over Black, Oil on canvas, 1957

CEO!YOONGI   ▊ ▏I Have Listened To Every Lie : Chapter 2

The oak doors to Yoongi’s office are pulled open, the heavy wood making a soft shoop-ing sound against the dark blue herringbone tiles. Yoongi stands courteously as Jin strolls in, but forgoes the formal bow given that Jin’s such a familiar face. Doesn’t he usually have briefcase? Yoongi thinks. He gives the man a brief smile and leads him towards the sitting area. His assistant pours them both some herbal tea.

“Jin, thanks for coming.” They are way past honorifics at this point. “No briefcase, I see.”

Jin rolls his eyes and kicks up a foot on the table. “I heard through the grapevine that you’ve done something incredibly stupid once again, and I was prepared to haul your ass out of whatever hole you’ve dug yourself long before you asked for me.”

“I guess this ‘grapevine’ goes by the name Kim Namjoon?”

Jin laughs, and unbuttons his suit jacket. “Of course.” Then his face grows serious and he takes his leg off the table.

“What’s this I hear about you divorcing Nara?”

Yoongi actually starts a little at this. He didn’t tell Namjoon anything, and as far he knew it was only between himself and his wife. “How-”

“How did I know?” Jin rolls his eyes again. Yoongi thinks idly that Jin rolls them one more time they just might roll out of his damn head. “I’ve known you for years and you ask me this? How the fuck do you think I got to where I am today - representing a majority of Seoul’s aristocracy - without knowing shit I’m not supposed to know?”

“Is that why you need a bodyguard entourage too?”

“Don’t even - shut the fuck up.”

They grin at each other. “But seriously, is it true?”

Yoongi sighs. “Yeah. She’s already served me. What can I do but sign it? I mean, I didn’t marry her for love anyway. Just give her whatever she wants. I want it to be quick and quiet. As soon as you can.”

The word ‘painless’ is on the tip of his tongue as well, but he just can’t manage to force it out.

He stands up and walks back to his desk. The bottom drawer contains Nara’s papers, and as he takes it out it feels like the paper is on fire. It practically burns through the yellow envelope and singes his fingertips.

Jin takes them out and quickly rifles through the papers. “Look, it’s all pretty standar-

“Mr Min?” His assistant buzzes in on the phone. “Mrs Min refused to come in person, but I have her on line one.”

They both look to the phone on the coffee table. The red light flashes rhythmically on the sleek black machine. Yoongi walks over to take the receiver, but Jin is faster; he shoots out of his seated position, and his deft fingers snatch the phone up and then puts it back down, terminating the call.

Yoongi’s left eyebrow nearly shoots straight off of his forehead. “What the fuck?”

“Look, look,” Jin holds out a placating hand, “listen to me. 

Jin turns to the assistant and says, “Please tell Mrs Min that Yoongi will see her for dinner tonight at six o’clock at the Aria.”

For an instance Yoongi is livid. Insubordination is something he detests, and always eradicates swiftly, but Jin is his friend, and he has learnt to reign in his compulsive need for superiority around those with intelligence and genius that are comparable to his. He turns to his assistance, who is obviously uncomfortable with orders coming from Jin, and gives her a small nod.

“Move it to 7 o’clock. This might take a while.” His assistant bows and closes the door.

He turns to give Jin a tongue lashing, but the man is already speaking.

“You’re my friend Yoongi, and I know that you rarely change your mind when it comes to matters of business, but as a friend and your lawyer I need you to reconsider this.” Jin speaks with gravitas and a weightedness that Yoongi rarely hears; he usually works like lightning without thunder - fast, brilliant, bright and deadly, but rarely loud or late.

“First I’ll speak as your lawyer. I’m aware that you’ve just sent one of your artists back “home”. Now, I know this means rehab but the public doesn’t, and you know that netizens are crazy as fuck when it comes down to worming out scandals and burying someone so deep their family’s next five generations will have trouble coming out of.”

Yoongi sits back down on the other end of the sofa and lightly massages his temple with the hand he has propped up on the back of the couch. Jin waits until he is done before he keeps speaking; he needs to have his full attention for this.

“We’re still in the midst of cleaning up after her, and even without the public knowing the real circumstances behind her hiatus we have enough on our hands to deal with. Thankfully she’s not a real nutso because though your stock is more prone to falling than it was last week, the numbers haven’t yet moved and we’re doing a quick job of sealing up any possible leaks with the broadcasting companies. 

Yoongi closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Fuck it all. He didn’t anticipate for the girl to be such a wild card. She could definitely fuck like one, but evidently he made a misstep and let the reigns go for a little too long. He didn’t mind paying for it, but damn it all that it came up right now.

He holds up his hand, silencing Jin. “So you’re saying that we can’t handle the divorce leaking right now?”

Jin sighs, “I’m not saying we can’t handle it, but it’s unsavory news to a conservative public who are prone to perverting even the cleanest of stories. 

He takes a sip of his tea and his dark, almond eyes flicker up to Yoongi. “And I’m assuming that you have some sort of relationship with the girl. If you have I don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t know whether she has anything to do with you and Nara di-”

“She doesn’t.” Yoongi practically grinds the words out with his molars. “She isn’t involved.”

Jin raises an eyebrow. “Okay, my bad. But the timing isn’t great - Min Yoongi announces his divorce from Min Nara just as his star artist turns off the spotlight? Yoongi, the public may be malicious but even that assumption isn’t that much of a stretch for them. Hell even my grandma is young enough to connect the dots to that one. We simply can’t risk the sponsors. I believe you when you say that she’s uninvolved in your marital issues, but It’s too much to lose all in one go.”

Jin smacks his lips and circles the edge of the bronze teacup with his ring finger. “Do you want to hear what I have to say as your friend?”

A sigh. “I don’t have a choice now, do I?”

“No, you don’t.” He barks out a sharp laugh.

“I’ll be straight with you, I think it’s a terrible idea. You and Nara haven’t been married long, you have very similar temperaments, your families get along well enough-”

“Ha. That’s the money talking” Yoongi smirks. The interruption gets him a glare.

“-and, I think this is just your way of escaping your feelings.”

“Feelings? Hyung, what have you been smoking?” Scoffing, Yoongi relaxes in his seat and blinks lazily. “I have no feelings for Nara at all.”

“Don’t be a fucking dimwit,” Jin snaps, “even you know that she has been the perfect wife so far, and she has never so much as even hinted at any sort of disloyal behaviour. Do you think you can get that intelligence just anywhere?”

Now Yoongi is annoyed. Despite meeting her several times at events and of course their wedding, he hasn’t seen Jin exchange so much as a conversation with Nara. How the hell would he know the depths of her personality and wit?

“Intelligence?” His tone drops, and it is hard and flinty and foreboding. “She’s naive, she’s young. She’s hardly intelligent.”

His friend frowns. “Now you’re just being rude. Yes she isn’t lightning quick, but it’s precisely because she is young, and her cleverness hasn’t been trained yet. Anyone with any sense of business can tell that she’s a perfect match for you. The two of you a lethal weapons - she’s just underdeveloped.”

Jin hurries on before Yoongi can bulldoze over his explanation with his usual stubbornness. “I know you care for her. You’re not the one that served her. I know that this was unexpected, and I’m telling you, do not let her leave so easily. She’s the only one I know that can get your goddamn head out of your ass, or from between someone else’s legs. Have dinner with her tonight and tell her you will not sign the papers.”

He holds his hand up to prevent Yoongi from speaking. His friend’s eyes are cold and confused. It’s his signal to leave before things get difficult.

Jin offers one last statement. “You cannot, Yoongi.” He hopes his friend has the foresight to read into his words. Then, he stands and straightens his suit jacket. Yoongi remains sitting, staring at right through him.

Jin sighs. “As your friend I can see that you and Nara have unexplored potential. I know you don’t want to hear it, but too late. For now I’ll advise you as your lawyer, and the same argument goes; she is of importance to your future social connections and our company image. That she is so well presented and well spoken in public is the only thing that is preventing the public from making the connections between you and your previous conquests.”

Yoongi, now on his feet, is eye to eye with Jin. There is a beat of silence, but it isn’t tense, not between these two. Jin can see his friend his taking his words to heart… maybe not so much about the relationship itself but definitely the perks it may herald for the company.

Finally, Yoongi opens his mouth. “Nayeon would be a fool to say no to you, Seokjin.”

At this, Jin’s trademark grin appears and it almost splits his face in two. As Yoongi shakes his friend’s hand, his lips twist up in a small smile. Even after all this time Jin has the exact same foolish grin he possessed as a child.

“Thanks man, I’m pretty nervous, and we’re still months away from the day…”

It sometimes amazed Yoongi how Jin managed to keep his cheerful personality buried perfectly intact under all that lawyer bravado. 

Though born with a shockingly handsome face, and bred to mingle in and amongst the often immoral upper class, Kim Seokjin truly was a man with a heart of gold. He and Yoongi grew up together, and while he tolerated Yoongi’s deviant ways, he never dabbled with trouble of that vein unless it came to him in the form of a lawsuit. Even then he could separate himself from his work, treating each case with the ruthlessness the public knew him for, when in reality it was all a facade created to protect his compassionate heart.

His most admirable quality though, Yoongi believes, above all else is that for Kim Seokjin his private life is exactly that, private, and the goings on in his family are privy to just a few, Yoongi included. In fact, just last week he’d given Yoongi the information that in December he was going to propose to his girlfriend Kim Nayeon, a sweet girl whom he’d been with since his freshman year at law school.

Yoongi watches his friend leave with a strange mixture of relief and something unsettling in his chest.

The atmosphere in the office shifts. For the first time Yoongi is uncomfortable in his own office. The walls seem to close in on him, and the large window that allows him the view over his kingdom seems oddly warped, even fragile. He looks to the clock. It’s almost five o’clock. There’s more than enough time to go home and get a clean suit, but he has a closet here, and he doesn’t think Nara wants to see his face before she really must tonight (he can say the same for himself).

Shucking the usual ‘Prince of the Korea’ demeanor that he usually carries - even when alone in his office -, Yoongi collapses face first on his sofa.

“Miyoung!” He yells.

The door opens. “Yes Mr Min?”

“Did you organise a ride for my wife?”

“Yes Mr Min.”

“Good” he grunts into the damp leather. “Wake me up when it’s time to go. I want that Tom Ford suit pressed and laid out.”

His assistant says something he doesn’t quite catch, and then the door closes with that soft, familiar shoop. The sound seems to suck the air out of the room, instead of enveloping him in the quiet serenity he is used to.

Yoongi’s mind is loud, and he doesn’t know how to silence it.

 Looking at herself in the mirror, Nara feels like she is looking at a woman who is utterly in and of herself. Over the last 24 hours she feels as though she has shed her childish, girlish self and is as tender as a newborn baby. The woman in front of her is very pale and thin, almost swamped by black Givenchy shift dress she is wearing, but there is a light in her eyes and a flush to her cheekbones that makes Nara feel beautiful, courageous. Slightly reckless.

She takes her time with the rouge and lipstick, making sure the curve of her lips is rounded but exquisitely defined before she makes her way downstairs and to the front door.

The driver is waiting. It’s 7:02. Nara’s already late.

Never mind, she thinks, Yoongi will have to get used to this.

Already emboldened, she walks confidently to the beautiful black car that awaits her and slides inside. The driver shuts the passenger door with a gentle tmp and then pulls out of the driveway.

As they leave the gates of the Min mansion, the twinkling glow of the lights at the entrance of the house prompts Nara one more look back. The house stands grand, carved, luminous and cold in the night air. She realises that when she looks at the building, there is no emotion evoked inside of her. No sense of rest or reprieve that blooms in her chest, or really any sort of feeling that the sight of one’s home should inspire.

 Nara turns in her seat, the scarlet curve of her lips a little less forgiving.

“Sir, Madam, your main course has arrived.”

Nara looks up briefly as a waiter places her scallop ceviche is placed in front of her, just has Yoongi’s lamb ragout is place in front of him. His fingers are lightly wrapped around the neck of his glass of 2010 Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac while hers brings her Didier Dagueneau Pouilly-Fume Asteroide Sauvignon Blanc to her lipsticked mouth.

A small smile flashes past Nara’s lips at the decadence that awaits her. When they had just arrived, she felt the impulse to order the most pungent, indulgent meal on the menu just to irritate Yoongi, but she managed to curb that urge by the time the waiter came to their table. It was a foolish thought to even entertain because after all, despite the frost that was quickly gathering between her and her husband, she was a lady of the elite through and through.  

Making no bones about starting before Yoongi, Nara picks up her knife and fork and begins to make a start at her meal. In her periphery she sees Yoongi pause for a moment before he does the same.

Once the waiters have finished filling their glasses and are out of earshot, they are left with little but the tinkling of glassware and cutlery between the two of them.

Yoongi opens his mouth first.

“Nara, I’d like to discuss the matter.”

A lightning flash of annoyance singes its way through Nara’s veins. She hates how he calls it “The Matter”, as though he is above the dirty words “divorce”. She wants to soak him in the water of their union that he has sullied.

“What about it?” She says crisply, not lifting her head to spare him a glance.

“I won’t sign the papers. 

Nara’s hands still. She didn’t know what to expect, but somehow just not this. She knew that Yoongi had little to no feelings for her, and yet here he was, denying her - denying them of something they both instinctively wanted!


Her eyes are still on her plate. Yoongi’s hand sets his fork down to take a sip of wine.

“Look at me”, he whispers 

She drags her eyes past her plate, past his own, up his jet black suit and pale neck to those pebbly, hard eyes. She hopes that in another dimension another Min Yoongi spontaneously combusts.

Something flickers in those dark orbs, but it is too fast, too fleeting for her to process. It could be hate, it could be lust, hell it could be impatience. But dammit why wasn’t it agreeance? 

His next words plunge her into the cold sea of the Arctic. “I want this to work out. I want to stay married to you.”

Nara feels as though she is breathing sludge. She searches Yoongi’s eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but there is none.

“What are you talking about?” she hisses, “I may not know for sure that you’re cheating on me, but I don’t really care. You and I both know that this isn’t real anymore so why don’t you want out of it just as I do?”

Yoongi shifts. Suddenly aware of her posture - leaning towards him, hands tightly gripping her cutlery -, Nara loosens her shoulders and turns back to her food. “I don’t see how this is advantageous to either of us. Our parents will understand, and since it feels transactional any-”

She stops.

“This is why, isn’t it?” A sharp bark of laughter bursts free. “It’s a transaction. It’s business. You want us to stay together for your goddamn image, your company, don’t you?” Nara spits her consonants with as much loathing as she can muster.

Yoongi cocks his head, and a slight frown appears. “Didn’t you know that from the start? It wasn’t ever real.”

At these words, a wave of something crashes over Nara. It’s far too convoluted to pin it down to one word, but she knows that if she were drowning before at his rejection, then she is well and truly dead right now. Her chest physically hurts, and for a moment lights flash past her eyes so she closes them while she thinks.

He never felt anything towards me. Not even at the start.

Now, Nara knows that Yoongi is practically a stranger, but the emotions she is experiencing at the moment are incredibly confusing to her. She thought she had a clear picture of where she stood with him and yet here she was feeling like she’d been socked in the chest. She thought she’d come to terms with all that he was when she’d handed him the divorce papers - that she’d recognized just how little he cared for her -, but even then she still hadn’t seen the situation for what it was. 

“Dazed and confused” is a pitiful expression for her current state; Nara feels embarrassed, foolish, angry at him and angry at herself for being far too idealistic. She wonders what else her mind is hiding from her heart.

Well, she wouldn’t be staying to find out.

“Fine. We can postpone the divorce, but only on the condition that I move out.” Her voice wavers and the self-loathing chokes her.

Yoongi’s eyes are still locked on her. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.” Now that her anger has ripped off its leash, her mouth knows no bounds. “I want to move out. I also want to go to university. You have connections, I want a full ride into Seoul National University no questions asked.”

Her husband’s mouth is agape, and the wounded beast inside Nara growls with satisfaction.

“University? Move out?” Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Are you fucking joking?”

“No. I have a friend who has a spare room and I’ve organised to move in with her. Don’t worry, it’s a penthouse suite with full security so no one will know that I’m not living with you anymore. I have also organised my own security detail to guide me to and from campus should I need it.”

Another, much longer beat of silence. Yoongi sighs, and his chest deflates slightly. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Of course I-” Nara almost shrieks, but she gathers herself before anyone can hear her scream. The gall of Yoongi utterly infuriates her. This was a condition in her divorce papers!

Her tone evens out. “Of course I have. I stipulated it in the papers I gave you. 

She watches as Yoongi works his jaw, and unconsciously steels herself for a barrage of condescension. But instead, his voice is soft, and his eyes are fluid.

“Why do you want to go to university?”

Until now, this is a question that even Nara has avoided asking herself. She thought it would have been her mother who would ask it, but not so softly and definitely not with such genuine interest. It is now that she realises that she doesn’t have a good answer other than “because it’s what everyone else my age is doing”. She has no plan, there has never been a plan. She just wants to follow the crowd… is that so evil?

But of course she cannot admit this to her indefeatable husband and so in true Min Nara fashion she blurts out, “To get away from you.”

Immediately the shutters are drawn, and Yoongi’s liquid eyes are granite once more. And although her answer wasn’t totally a lie, Nara can’t help but feel like she has misstepped.

“Fine.” Yoongi resumes eating, spearing his lamb a little too vigorously. “You can move out. Go study. But the moment there are whispers, you come back to me.”

Oh how Nara has wished to hear those last five words come out of a man’s mouth. She thought that they’d be sent like a caress over her mouth, perhaps at a sappy short-term goodbye at an airport, or perhaps by a lover watching her accept a dance from another man.

In her reality though, the words mean something very different. If anything, she wishes she could whisper the same to him with the same meaning, but even then she cannot because she never had him in the first place.

Oh, Nara realises, I really am a fool.

“She said she’d agree.” Yoongi said, exasperated. His fingers loosen his tie as he sits on the end of the master bed. Nara is in the shower, and she’s been in their for a while.

Silence. “That’s it? Surely there’s more.”

Yoongi sniffs a laugh. “On the condition that she moves out and goes to university.” He’s still incredulous.

There is a very long pause. On the other line Jin is so silent that Yoongi can hear his own heart beating in his ears. It’s suffocating.

“What did I say? She’s a lethal weapon.”

Previously: Prologue,  Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3


Pairing: Lee Jihoon x You
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Word count: 2.9k

Disclaimer: Full photo © to NaverDispatch, edit is mine (obvs, cause the edit sucks Dx)

Hi guys! Just thought of this and I’m screaming! My first 2k long story along with a customized header (will probs do it to my other ffs)xD, also this is dedicated to mah friend @wonzigyumin cause you left us u ho jk lol ily

“I love you”. Those were the words that started it all. He had somehow managed to muster up enough courage to finally say those words, his mixed feelings of anxiousness and embarrassment slowly dissolving as every syllable left his mouth and soon after the sudden confession, he felt giddy and elated when he heard your reply of ‘I love you too.’

You could hardly forget that event.

It all happened on a Friday night when he suddenly asked, practically forcing you to free up your schedule, and made plans to go out and have dinner. As you were getting ready, you heard the soft ding of your phone to which you later found out to be a text from Jihoon. “I’m here.” was all that was written, very typical of him. For the past two years you’ve been friends with him (sorry, BEST FRIENDS), he always goes straight to the point but you didn’t mind it. In actuality, you liked that trait of his but you never told him that and you have no plan to.

“In a minute.” you replied back, putting back the phone into your purse. You checked yourself one last time in the mirror only to whip out your bag and to once again put another layer of lipstick onto your plump lips. Once again backing up to see the full profile of your reflection. You wore a simple black cocktail dress that stopped just above your knees. Your shoulders were bare and the dress hugged at your body, leaving little to the imagination. It was the only decent thing you could find out of your small closet full of casual and business clothing. Jihoon had told you way too late that you needed to wear something formal, fit for fine-dining that you had no time to go out and buy one.

Your phone was ringing nonstop now but you were used to it. Jihoon tends to say that a minute feels like an hour when waiting for you. He’s exaggerating. Well, checking yourself constantly in the mirror and reapplying makeup whenever you see just one small smudge tends to take a while. “That’s it. I’m coming up there.” You read, the notification flashing on your screen and as if on cue, three loud knocks came to your door. You didn’t move though, you continued to fix the powder on your face until you had heard a knowing cough.

Turning your head, you saw Jihoon standing at your bedroom door. He had on a sleek black suit with a white polo worn underneath and a black bowtie to complete the outfit. His small figure leaning against the doorframe as he glared at you. And you replied back with a smile to which he chuckles at while looking down, “What am I going to do with you?”, it was merely a whisper and he was thankful that you hadn’t heard it.

“I’m done!” was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you felt satisfied. He beamed at you and he hadn’t realized what you were wearing until you were standing tall in your three-inch heels. Your full appearance finally sunk in and Jihoon couldn’t help but feel flustered. “You okay, Woozi?”


You saying his nickname only made him blush more as he gawked at you. Worried, you made your way closer to him, thinking he might be catching something. Your hand gently pressed at his forehead and you heard his voice hitch. “You feel hot, maybe we should cancel.” you said as you stepped away from him to go get some medicine. But before you could even move one step, Jihoon grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him, “No. I’m fine. Let’s get going.” He said as he picked up your purse and dragged you out to his car.

It was silent during the ride and who knows how many times Jihoon had glanced your way, you had lost count. When you look back at him he would pretend he was never looking at you in the first place. “Is something wrong, Woozi?”

Again with the nickname.

Jihoon thought to himself. He’s using every bit of his power to focus on driving but him knowing you were right beside him and having full knowledge of your clothing just made it really hard for him. Not to mention how the seatbelt made your chest very much painfully obvious made him even more uneasy. “No, nothing’s wrong. There’s nothing wrong whatsoever.” he voiced out and you didn’t push the topic anymore.

After a few more turns and with Jihoon constantly cursing whenever the stoplight turns red, both of you finally arrived at the restaurant. Your eyes turned wide when you realized it was the restaurant you had always wanted to try since you first saw it but due to it being a bit expensive and always fully booked, you tend to have second thoughts.

“How did you manage to get a table, its practically impossible to get a reservation here unless you know the owner or if you’re early as hell.” you chimed as you took a glance at the long line just out the entrance and you felt superior yet apologetic that you were passing them as you and Jihoon made your way to the reception desk.

“Lee Jihoon.” he said to the person behind the podium. It was a tall man that wore a black suit and a red tie. His nose was pointed and his smile, genuine. “Yes, Mr. Lee. A reservation for two.” he gestured for us to follow him inside and we did.

The man led us to a table beside a window that has the perfect view of the moon. Though, for some reason, our table was slightly secluded from the rest and it was also themed different. Unlike the other tables with white cloth and golden laced that we passed by on our way here, ours had light red cloth draped over the table with black cloth laced at the edges. But in the middle of all these was a single white rose in a thin clear vase laying silently on the table.

“What’s the occasion?” you jokingly laughed and gladly took the seat Jihoon pulled out for you. “Nothing, why? Can’t I go all out on a dinner with my best friend?” he mocked as he took the seat across from you. You looked around but no staff gave a menu and as if Jihoon can read your mind, “I already ordered ahead of time.”, “Oh, have you now?” you grinned. “Its a surprise.” he only said.

While waiting for your surprise food you both chatted about what each of you had done for the week, (boring, I know, but I can’t think of anything else), he then started talking about how great he’s been doing at work. Making music and performing with his members. You loved how his eyes would light up whenever he talked about his work, so you couldn’t help but smile as you listened to his story about how one of his hyungs would always try to kiss him and you laughed when he explained how he chased after that one member with a guitar. “Poor guy.” you commented, laughing. “What do you mean?? I should be the one you should be sorry for, they were annoying me.” Jihoon could only pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. It made you giggle more, “Well, I know how scary you could be when you get mad so…” you wiped the tears that escaped your eyes from laughing so much. Jihoon didn’t retort though, he just shrugged and mouthed out, 'True’.

“How’s yours?” he asked as he took a sip of water. “Oh, nothing. Just same old, same old.” “Come on now, spill.” Jihoon said at your lack of an answer. You knew him too well to not say anything, he would never stop pestering you until you gave him what he wanted and so you started telling him about how it is at your work. Just the usual boring seminars, you and your friends, as always sat at the front cause you all can’t see because all your eyesight are bad, and how the people at the back are annoying as hell no matter how much they’re scolded. “Hope they lose their job.” you cursed under your breath but Jihoon still heard it and chuckled at your comment. “You hate them that much?”, your eyes widened and you prepared yourself to tell him about all the hoes in your class and for the past 15 minutes, Jihoon was trying his best to hold in his laughter but is failing miserably as you cursed bloody mary onto the people that annoyed you as hell (the people at the back).

Jihoon was still laughing his ass off as the waiter arrived with your food and to your amazement, it was all your favourite, from appetizers all to the main course. “Surprise!” Jihoon said as he finally caught his breath. Your mouth was wide open and your eyes seem to almost bulge out as you tried to find for words to say, “I-I don’t know what to say.” you managed to voice out, he smirked. “You don’t have to say anything. Let’s eat.” The both of you were enjoying dinner and had laughs with a few slipped in moments of additional spite for people that annoyed you both.

“That was delicious!” you laid back in your chair as you held your stomach, Jihoon did the same, “I’m glad.” he smiled. It tugged at your heartstrings, seeing him smile and you hadn’t noticed you were staring until he had gave you a questioning look. While you still felt flustered, Jihoon had called for the waiter and asked him to lean a bit closer. You could hear him whisper something but it was too inaudible, the waiter only nodded before turning around to leave you both. Jihoon saw how you were throwing daggers at him with your glare, “What?” he asked and you just leaned back down and pouted in your seat.

He could only chuckle at your childishness and hearing him laugh made your heart melt and you can’t help but smile. This was why you loved being with Jihoon, you both enjoy and have fun even with littlest of things. How you can feel lots of care and love from a small gesture with him like that time when you were sick and couldn’t join the outing all your friends planned for a long time and instead of going, he stayed back with you saying, “I never wanted to go anyway.”, but he was the most excited about the trip. You told him you were fine and he could go, but he refused and slept over at your place to take care of you, “No big deal.” he said only to catch a cold the next day.

Whilst you were laughing, Jihoon kept quiet as he admired you from his seat. He loved seeing your smiling face. He loved how your eyes twinkled when you talked about your passion. He loved the late night calls with you. He loved how much you worried about him. He loved being in your company. He loved everything about you. 

He loved you.

The waiter had come back with a silver platter and placed it in the middle of your table. Jihoon had wished he took out his phone to capture the expression on your face when you saw the dessert that arrived. It was a giant, practically bucket-sized, sweet pudding. You were silently screaming as you hurriedly went to Jihoon’s side and gave him a big hug. He expected it though, he knows how much you loved pudding. His smile grew even wider, if that was even possible, as he watched you enjoying the dessert.

God, I love her so much.

Jihoon smiled to himself. You were a bit guilty that you were the only one enjoying the dessert, so you took a spoonful and offered it to Jihoon. He shook his head at first, but after your glare and stubbornness, he complied and opened his mouth. You felt giddy as you fed him the pudding, “Do you love it?”, “Yes.” he nodded, “I love it.”

“But I love you more.”

Jihoon wondered why you had suddenly stopped eating and was now looking his way. Your mouth was hanging open as you stared at him and his expression was just painted in confusion. Then his eyes grew wide and he immediately went red while he covered his mouth with his hand.

Did I just say that out loud?

Jihoon thought. He had not wanted for you to know it like this but there was no turning back on it.

“Yes.” He acted cooly, “I love you.”


It was a beautiful memory that you could never forget no matter how hard you try.

“Leave me alone! I’m busy!” Jihoon had kicked you out of the studio and slammed the door before you could turn around. His voice rang in your ears as you comtemplated wether to continue or not but this was the last straw. Your blood was boiling underneath your skin, “Open the fucking door, Jihoon.”, there was no answer. “LEE JIHOON!” you pounded on the door. He at last opened it, probably after the cracking sounds that were heard from the door.

“What?” his voice felt like venom, his tone distant. His brown irises stared straight at yours. “What the fuck?” you said in disbelief, he’s not getting away by acting ignorant. “Talk to me Jihoon. I waited for you everyday, I gave my whole life to you, the least you could do is come with me to see my father back home.” your words didn’t seem to get through to him. He now was looking anywhere but you, “Woozi.” your voice was pleading and low. His hand laid at the back of his neck, “Please, I can’t leave right now. We have a big performance this coming week, I can’t just go with you.” he explained.

You understood that he couldn’t go. You get it. But knowing that your father is pulling at his last breaths on his death bed, you thought, you thought he could skip at least once. “My father is dying, he needs me there and I need you there with me and knowing this, you still think your performance is more important? More important than me?” your chest felt tight as you said those words. You never meant for him to choose between his beloved group, his future, his passion, and with you. You’re happy for him, yes, but you always felt like you would always be second. Second after his work.

His eyes finally landed on yours, “I’m sorry but I can’t.” As soon as those words left his mouth, you let out an exasperated sigh. You expected it, but seriously, he didn’t even stutter.

“If this is what I’m going to go through being with you, then I’m sorry but, I can’t handle it. Let’s end this.” you fought against the tears from falling out. “It’s the best for the both of us.” you said before turning around.

“I’m leaving.” you gritted your teeth, making sure to stress on every syllable. And so you left. You called for a taxi and after saying your destination, you pulled out your phone and booked the next flight to your country. Your home.


The word felt so familar but at the same time not. Being with Jihoon, you were at home. Wherever he was, it was home. He is home. But now, you felt so unsure of it, you felt doubtful.

Your luggage lagged behind you as you made your way into the airport. You had 10 minutes till your departure and while waiting for your flight call, occasionally, you would look towards the entrance, hoping. 5 minutes left, you needed to go. But before you went your way, you gave one last look behind your shoulder, one last chance to see if he would come.

But there was no one.

You start walking to your boarding gate but you hear loud footsteps, as if someone is running straight towards you and before you realized it, you felt a hand on your shoulder to which you abruptly turn around. “Jihoon?” you almost felt tears in your eyes but the growing warmth spreading through your body dissolved when you saw, not Jihoon, but a stranger, “Uh, sorry miss. But you dropped this.”, he held out what seem to be your wallet. You hadn’t noticed it was missing, “Thank you.”, he nodded to your reply before making his way to his gate.

Laughing to yourself, you thought he would come, thinking he would at least stop you, but it appears you were wrong. And so with pain gaping at your chest, you left.

“Welcome ma'am.” the flight attendant greeted and you forced a smile to which she paid no heed. She pointed you to your seat and you sat beside the window. The night lights twinkled under the dark sky and you could only cry silently as the plane’s engines roared to life.

Though, against the loud sound of the airplane taking flight, a faint voice could be barely heard, screaming your name, screaming for you to come back. To come back to him.

To come home.

Walt Whitman, Age 37, Steel Engraving by Samuel Hollyer from a Lost Daguerreotype Photograph by Gabriel Harrison     1855

Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face!
Clouds of the west—sun there half an hour high—I see you also face to face.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me!
On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all hours of the day,
The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme,
The similitudes of the past and those of the future,
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings, on the walk in the street and the passage over the river,
The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me far away,
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them,
The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore,
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide,
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east,
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high,
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.

It avails not, time nor place—distance avails not,
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d,
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried,
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d.

I too many and many a time cross’d the river of old,
Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow,
Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south,
Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the shape of my head in the sunlit water,
Look’d on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward,
Look’d on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look’d toward the lower bay to notice the vessels arriving,
Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor,
The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars,
The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses,
The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset,
The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite storehouses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank’d on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated lighter,
On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and yellow light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.

These and all else were to me the same as they are to you,
I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river,
The men and women I saw were all near to me,
Others the same—others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them,
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

What is it then between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,
I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,
I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,
I too had receiv’d identity by my body,
That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body.

It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw its patches down upon me also,
The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious,
My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre?
Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil,
I am he who knew what it was to be evil,
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant,
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting,
Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest,
Was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,

Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.

Closer yet I approach you,
What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance,
I consider’d long and seriously of you before you were born.

Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?

Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm’d Manhattan?
River and sunset and scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide?
The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter?

What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach?
What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?
Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?

We understand then do we not?
What I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish is accomplish’d, is it not?

Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me!
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house or street or public assembly!

Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!
Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it!
Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;
Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;
Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you!
Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sunlit water!
Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, lighters!
Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset!
Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses!

Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are,
You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul,
About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung out divinest aromas,
Thrive, cities—bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers,
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual,
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers,
We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward,
Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us,
We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us,
We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also,
You furnish your parts toward eternity,
Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.

–Walt Whitman, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”  1856

SSM Day o3: Chemistry

Summary: Sakura really didn’t sign up for this. (Or the one where Sasuke moonlights as an erotic dancer to pay the bills his internship can’t cover.)

Rating: T for language and minor sexual stuff (it’s a stripper!AU what did you expect)

Notes: I wrote this at like two in the morning after spending a solid hour doing anatomy studies that somehow all turned into Sasuke. I need an adult. Also, my YouTube history looks really, really weird now.

“Ino, I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with this,” Sakura says, eyeing the flashing neon signs around her. Her best friend scoffs and flips her long, loosely curled hair over her shoulder. “You’re always shut up in that lab of yours, Forehead! You’re twenty-five. You need to live a little. Besides, this place is fine.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re here every weekend,” Sakura mumbles, but she offers no further comment; rather, she can’t, because they’ve arrived at their destination. The bouncer waves them in with barely a glance. They’re clearly of age, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to card them.

The first thing that strikes Sakura is the music—dark, sinuous, and pulsing, almost alive—and the way the red and violet lights create a haze over the black walls and tiles of the bar. It’s an unusual look, but one that fits the club’s name. Insidious is definitely the sort of place Ino frequents; a sophisticated establishment with plenty of live entertainment and well-mixed cocktails. There’s also a long, raised catwalk from the back rooms that connects to a large, circular stage in the center of the room. Her best friend ushers her to a table near said stage, her towering heels clicking against the smooth marble floor. That’s about when Sakura notices a thin silver pole in the center of the platform and realizes what, exactly, its purpose is.

“Ino,” she says slowly. “Did you bring me to a fucking strip club?”  Ino bats her eyes in a mockery of innocence. “Not the kind of strip club you’re thinking of, Sakura. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Well. Her day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? Sakura looks around again, faintly hearing Ino order a couple cocktails for them both. The whole room has a certain plush feeling to it. Maybe it’s the velvet everywhere. Maybe it’s Sakura’s overactive imagination. The world may never know. The cocktails arrive in a few minutes. Sakura downs hers immediately, vaguely tasting strawberries and vodka. She gets the feeling she really, really shouldn’t be sober for this. Ino rolls her teal eyes for the umpteenth time and shifts so that her low cut dress shows off her cleavage just the right way.

Twenty minutes and another drink later, the room begins to fill. People come in twos and threes, all trying their damnedest to snag seats close to the stage. Sakura can’t help but notice most of them are women. Ino snickers at them and waves down a waiter. “There’s a reason we got here early, Forehead. The most popular act of the week is about to start.”

As if on cue, the overhead lights dim. A smooth, soft piano riff starts up as a spotlight flicks on, catching a tall, lithe man in its glow. Sakura is immediately entranced, because good God is he beautiful. He looks ethereal as he prowls downs the catwalk, the juxtaposition of his pale skin and dark hair striking in all the right ways. Then he reaches the pole and, with what looks like no effort at all, lifts himself up and flips his body upside down in a blatant “fuck you” to gravity and the laws of physics in general.

His muscles move smoothly as he dances, pushing and pulling and creating enchanting patterns of shadow on his skin. He’s barely even breaking a sweat, he’s hitting every beat, and he’s so sensual it almost hurts her to watch. And then he just has to take it up a notch; he climbs up to the top of the pole and drops headfirst towards the floor, catching himself at the last second with his thighs. His THIGHS. Sakura can’t even register the smug look Ino is most likely throwing her because her eyes are locked to the spectacle before her. The dancer throws his head back, arching his spine against the pole, and strokes his hands up the sides of his torso. One rests lightly on his throat, thin, elegant fingers feathering over the curves of his neck, and the other grips the pole behind him. A glint of silver catches her eye as he moves and oh my god he has nipple piercings. Sakura’s mouth runs dry. Her heart is practically throwing itself against her ribs, and she swears he can hear it over the pound of the music.

He meets her gaze, and Sakura feels like she’s suddenly caught fire but can’t entirely bring herself to mind. There’s a flicker of something in those impossibly black eyes, before he blinks and gives her a slow, sexy smirk. He effortlessly levers himself down, twisting as he goes, to land on his knees in front of her. As he leans back, putting his whole body on display, all Sakura can focus on is how beautiful this man is. He’s not bulky, not by a long shot; instead, the cut of his muscles is soft and toned. His beauty is something ethereal and effortless, and the elegance he somehow infuses in every movement only accentuates it. Sakura is no stranger to this; in fact, she can name a few people off the top of her head who can do the same thing.

And then something clicks, and she’s is frozen. Not in a good, aroused way: of course, the attraction is definitely there, but at this exact moment it’s being overpowered by shock and just a bit of panic. She knows that smirk, just like she knows those eyes. Except usually, she sees them in the lab next to hers, on the reserved biochemist she works with more often than not.

Oh my god, she thinks faintly, as Uchiha Sasuke, one of the brightest up-and-coming minds in her oncological drug research course, gives her another tantalizing look to a dark guitar riff, he looks completely different without his glasses.

Bonjour, Bitches! {Jefferson x Reader} ~ Part 3

Hamilton ~ Modern AU (Tech Company)

Jefferson x Reader

2,171 words

A/N: Guess who wrote another chapter!! I was randomly inspired at work that Hamilton was going to do something skeezy in this part and it just spiraled from there! Sorry, I love Hamilton but since this is Jefferson’s story, Hammy gets to be the bad guy. Enjoy and definitely comment if you like this part! I’ll be wrapping this fic up soon and starting on something else, so keep your eyes peeled for my next series. I may get your opinion of what else I should write ;)

Originally posted by freedomfriesandapplepies

You avoided Lafayette or Jefferson or whatever his name was as much as possible the following week. So many questions tumbled around in your mind: Why was he impersonating Lafayette? Why hadn’t you recognized him before? What was he doing here at Hamilton’s firm?

When you were still in grad school, you had read a lot of magazine and journal articles about Thomas Jefferson. Most of them mentioned the feud between Jefferson and Hamilton’s companies, which were both producing similar products. One article even juxtaposed them across two pages and listed their accomplishments, qualifications and new projects, somehow comparing the two competitive geniuses. If you were being honest, you preferred Hamilton’s philosophy of business of Jefferson’s, not only because you sided with Hamilton’s democratic leanings, but also because Jefferson seemed unscrupulous in his dealings. Especially now that you knew he was undercover in his rival’s company, most likely stealing important information.

Keep reading

So fun fact–I was thinking about taking all the off days out of my queue for a while, so that this blog was posting every day.  I mean, after all, this outfit is from September 22nd!  But then I started having some pretty serious health problems.  (I went to the ER!)  Well, as of typing this, I’m still having them.  And the whole point of having a queue is to give myself a big buffer zone in case I’m ill, busy, or traveling and can’t get photos of my outfits for a while.  So it looks like I’m not rearranging the queue after all!

(I got this jacket at the rummage sale–it looked a lot better on me in my imagination, although it’s still fine in person.)

[Image description: one full-body photo of a young woman (me) with short pink hair that’s pulled back into a half-ponytail with a brown clip.  I am standing in front of a grey wall.  I am holding a metallic pink cane in my left hand.  I’m wearing a collarless olive green button-down shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted dark wash skinny jeans.  I have on light brown hiking boots with black soles and red accents.  Over the shirt, I have on a lightweight jacket with a blue, green, and red paisley-ish pattern on it.  I’m wearing longer bronze earrings and silver studs.  I don’t have any lipstick on.  As always, I’m wearing my round black glasses.]

Creationaria: A New World

Dragons swoop overhead, gliding through the large skyscrapers. Walking around the streets are such a wide variety of being, some seemingly normal humans, others advanced animals walking on two legs, wearing clothes, and a few, full grey individuals wearing black sunglasses.

A group of friends walk together on the street, a cloud, a skeleton, a black cat in a pink bow tie, and a girl with a brown bob hair cut, in a striped hoodie.

“I hear downtown is infested with porn bots now” the cloud speaks, floating along, enjoying a nice cotton candy cone.

“Gross” the girl in the bob cut replied. “Rose, er, bone rose?”

The skeleton looked up “Huh? Sup Simakai? “

“It’s your turn to choose where we get lunch at today”

Rose looks to the cloud “I’m thinking pizza? You?”

Rose looks back to the skeleton “well, i’m you so….Chinese?”

Rose(skeleton) looks back, completely confused.

“How about some pasta? I know a really nice place” The cat replied.

Simakai nods in agreement “So, I have a perfect middle idea. “

The three look to her, waiting for her amazing answer.


Bone Rose’s jaw drops off.

“Huh, yeah, little bit of everything. “ Cloud Rose nods in agreement.

“Hey, what’s going on down there?” Cat points down the road to the center of the city, which opens up to a large open square with artists drawing, dancers dancing to the music of the singers and other musicians. Currently the square was empty except one lone dancer.

He had curly blonde hair, eyes of piercing blue and green, dressed in an old army jacket with patches and pins, open to show a simple black shirt, black jeans, he had a necklace with an old rusty skeleton key. Jaunty swing music played in the square as he danced along.

“Isn’t that Fern?” Bone Rose asked.

“Oh my goodness it is” Simakai replied. “Let’s go see if he wants to join us for lunch?”

Suddenly the music shifts, from jaunty swing, to hard dubstep, the ground cracking around Fern as he moved.

“On second thought, let’s not” Cat quickly added.

“Yah, let’s go find Dransnake instead, see if she wants to join.” Cloud Rose suggested.

Together the four turned around, to see before them stood a man, with blue skin, icy white eyes, green hair decorated with small red lights, dressed in a black winter coat over a red button up shirt, and a black top hat, decorated with a holly berries.

“Wow! Hey Chanter!” Simakai joyously greeted him.

Chanter smiled “Hello Simakai, Roses, and Cat! I was going around letting everyone know Parsure is missing, though I doubt anyone truly minds.”

“Ugh, yah I doubt anyone is truly looking around for mister art block.” Bone Rose relpied.

Chanter chuckled “True true, yet I still am asking around to see if anyone has seen him? “ He looked up to see Fern dancing in the square, more dancers finally joining him. “Shame, it seems Fern has given up looking. I hope Ausham hasn’t too.”

“Chanter, why do you care?” Simakai asked.

“Well, despite his bad nature, Parsure is like my brother, he is family. I worry” Chanter replied.

“We’ll keep an eye out for him.” Cat spoke out, patting Chanter on the shoulder, sending snowflakes out, scented like peppermint.

“Chanter, are you always so Christmas-y?” Cloud Rose sniffed.

“Why of course! Christmas is all about love and joy, which is what I represent in Fern!”

“Fair enough” Cloud Rose shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure you kind ladies have plans to attend to , I must continue my search, and keep Fern and Ausham out of trouble. They have been rather…strange lately”

Simakai was curious what he meant by strange, but Chanter was gone before she could ask. Confused, she shrugged it off.

“Anyway, lunch?” Cat asked.


Woo hoo, here it is, the Start of Creationaria. Some small world building, these first few chapters will be. If you like this, let me know, give some love to the blogs mentioned.


Fourth installation of my Toxic series, inspired by the song by Britney Spears. Done in a little less than three hours (which is AMAZING for me, I usually dawdle). Over half-way done with this project! There will be as many panels as tumblr will allow, which I think is 10… correct me if I’m wrong, please.

Been feeling a lot better. A balance of good friends with the right words and being alone seems to be doing the trick.

Hope this finds you well,


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Suicide Squad Deadshot Action Figure, AR
Suicide Squad Harley Quinn Loves The Joker Necklace Set, AR
Suicide Squad Harley Quinn Replica Baseball Bat, AR
Suicide Squad The Joker Razor Letter Opener, AR
Suicide Squad The Joker Replica Cane, AR
Wonder Woman Day Wonder Woman Tiara And Bracelets (available 06/03/17), AR

anonymous asked:

Hi, I would like to request for a sad Kai imagine where you are pregnant and you intend to surprise him with the news, but catch him cheating! Happy ending pleasee thank you!!! :)

of course! hopefully I can pull this scenario off haha. thank you so much for requesting bb ♡♡ p.s since i’m such a lazy ass i didn’t proof-read this either. probably never will omg.

“Biggest Regret”


📌 Genre : Angst / Fluff 

📖 Word Count : 2903

👩 Admin : Raven

Your hand gripped the stick tightly, your palms breaking out into a sweat as you wondered whether or not you were dreaming. You stared blankly at the two lines that appeared on the screen, not fully realizing what they meant.

Pregnant I I

Tears stung the back of your eyes as you let out a joyful sigh, clutching the test against your chest in disbelief. I’m pregnant. A sob broke out from between your lips as you let out a shaky laugh. Jongin is going to be ecstatic. 

But how do I tell him?

Fear ripped through your body, what if he isn’t ready for a child? Swallowing deeply, you ran a hand through your hair and breathed in deeply. A glance at the clock told you that Jongin was going to come home in about 20 minutes. Smiling to yourself, you nodded determinedly.

I’ll tell him when he gets back.

How foolish of you to think that he was going to show up that night alone.

Keep reading



Pics 1&2: Female red dalmatian crested gecko.  AC Reptiles Lines.  Red and black spots, very vibrant base color.  28g.  $200

Pic 3: Older hatchling gargoyle gecko, from my yellow female Poppy and my red male Ramses.  Great eater, should have a lot of yellow and grey like mom (already a VERY yellow baby). 4g.  $85

Pic 4: Younger hatchling gargoyle gecko, full sibling to Pic. 3.  Also coloring up well, becoming more yellow daily. 4g. $70

Pics 5 & 6: Female red dalmatian crested gecko.  Produced by Crestopia Reptiles, Sugar x Haven.  Pretty light red base and big black ink spots all over, especially on the head.  25g.  $225

Pic 7: Red juvenile crested gecko. Unknown lineage.  Like its sister, this one has continued turning a pretty red shade.  May eventually have some low yellow harlequin markings.  9g.  $50

Not pictured: high yellow adult female leopard gecko.  Unknown genetics.  Has a partially regenerated tail, but it’s healed very well.  FREE ADOPTION with price of shipping and proof of setup.

The Boyfriend Tag

”I just didn’t expect you to suck at Minecraft so bad. It distracted me.”

for ereri week 2k16, day three: firsts.

ereri. it’s dangerous to go alone (take this) verse. [ ao3 ] 3.3k

“Does that red light mean we’ve started?”

Eren laughs over a black screen.


“Hey guys, Jaegerbomb here, and, due to very high demand—like, actually, I’m a little floored by how many of you were asking me for this—I give you the much anticipated… Boyfriend tag!” Eren’s hands pop up beside his face, fists flaring out into open palms like they’re exploding fireworks. Levi rolls his eyes beside him, glancing nervously at the little playback window for the camera.

Just Eren.

Not even so much as Levi’s shoulder.

He covers the mouthpiece of the headset Eren fucking made him wear (seriously, it reminds him of his early teens and working at fast food drive-thrus and telemarketing firms), and hisses, “Did people really ask you for this?”

Keep reading


Mandy quietly shut the door to her apartment, being careful not to wake the other currently sleeping in the room over. Her eyes darted over to the clock, red lights barely lit up over the small black screen reading two-thirty am. Kicking off her shoes slightly Mandy cautiously crept through the dark house but found herself taken back when she found that the other was still very much awake. There the brunette stood slightly dumbfounded drenched in someone else’s blood. “Look I can explain everything but I have to shower first.. Why are you awake?” She paused for a moment before continuing on. “You were supposed to be asleep right now. I usually have time to clean up but- shit happened. I really didn’t want you to see me like this, ever.” Simply Mandy never mentioned  her job for the reason that it wasn’t legal, she always covered it up with working part time at an auto body shop. Shoving the bathroom door wide open, the girl walked inside letting out a groan as she slid the curtain back beginning to strip her messy clothes off waiting for a reaction from the other.