smell of dust

Places where reality is a bit altered:

• any target
• churches in texas
• abandoned 7/11’s
• your bedroom at 5 am
• hospitals at midnight
• warehouses that smell like dust
• lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore
• empty parking lots
• ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods
• rooftops in the early morning
• inside a dark cabinet

• playgrounds at night
• rest stops on highways
• deep in the mountains

• early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed
• trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
• schools during breaks
• those little beaches right next to ferry docks
• bowling alleys

• unfamiliar McDonalds’s on long road trips
• your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep
• laundromats at midnight

• galeries in art museums that are empty except for you
• the lighting section of home depot
• stairwells
• hospital waiting rooms
• airports from midnight to 7am
• bathrooms in small concert venues

• cemeteries
• abandoned penitentiaries
• hilltops at night in full moonlight
• most of Japan
• empty barns
• marshes
• really anywhere quiet at midnight, the air vibrates
• old stones and henge
• the ocean when it’s still quiet with fog over it
• train tracks that go through the middle of the woods
• bridges
• ancient places
• stands of old growth forest
• the Eastern Sierras/high desert

• rabbit paths off hiking tails
• trails between the main ski hills
• winter twilight
• back allies between houses
• logging roads
• dirt roads on fall evenings with leaves falling off the trees
• libraries before closing
• anyplace where it’s snowing before sunrise
• the woods during a rainstorm

• roads covered with snow with trees on the sideways while snowflakes are falling out of the sky
• train stations after 10 PM
• outside, right before a massive storm
• the woods just after twilight
• the beach in winter
• the bottom of swimming pools
• empty beaches when its snowing

• back part of a library
• late night empty streets
• highways late at night
• windy roads
• windy roads at night when you can only see the immediate road
• abandoned parking lots (office buildings, homes)
• anywhere immediately after a really bad fight
• little towns late at night when no ones awake and the only lights on are the street posts

• empty buses before sunrise/after sunset
• being the only one outside in the early morning when its almost dark and you feel alone on earth
• mountains with a big forest close to it
• being alone in a spot in ikea
• the lakeside anytime between 2 and 6 am
• firework shows when you’re sitting on the grass
• staring up at very tall buildings
• the tram at a big airport
• abandoned house by a lake

• being the only one downstairs on christmas  
• stepping outside in the early morning when it has just snowed
• when its dark and you see snowflakes falling down in the light of a lamppost on the lonely road
• that one clear spot in the forest with trees surrounding it
• a parked car in a snow/thunderstorm
• corn fields with the wind blowing over them
• malls when they’re about to close for the night
• woods at twilight/dawn
• being on a train after midnight
• theme parks at night

• winding back roads with rolling fog
• seeing “open” signs when its really foggy and cloudy
• being in a train that was crowded when you got in and now its quiet, looking at the seats knowing that there were people sitting there moments ago and now they’re gone
• hiking trails that have nobody on them
• being alone in an elevator for a few minutes
• looking down at the forest when you’re standing somewhere high and seeing the top of the trees with fog lingering over them
• the ferry about to take off in the middle of the night
• tree houses
• empty seats on the late night train
• 4-6 am on a winter morning

• the clouds/damp coming out of your mouth when its really cold in the morning
• stepping out on an unfamiliar metro/train stop
• greenhouses that have been left to grow alone
• cemeteries in the middle of fields
• biking/walking on the main road when its dark without cars
• swamps with fog
• hotel corridors in the middle of the night
• anywhere where you can hear a train whistle in the distance but you can’t see it or know just how far away it is
• foggy mornings in a meadow
• that flickering streetlight
• working offices at midnight

• abandoned amusement parks
• mirrors in an airplane bathroom
• being alone in a church
• empty hotel lobbies
• hearing trains off in the distance especially at night
• snow falling down in general
• being in a place thats supposed to have a lot of people but it doesn’t
• long, dark hallways
• the middle of a park when its snowing
• playgrounds at night
• work/school when you’re snowed in
• caves
• a field of power lines
• being in a forest where there are train tracks not knowing if the train may even ever approach
• bonfires

• being in a different room than everyone else at a party
• the woods on a night with a full moon
• empty stables
• empty metro stations that are usually crowded
• gas stations on long mountain roads
• the old part of a city when you’re the only one in the street
• stadiums when a game or concert is over
• entering a building with a really high ceiling
• moonlight, anywhere

• empty tennis or baseball courts with limited lightning
• times when you are transitioning from one phase to another
• lodges in the snow
• frozen water in the winter
• a little lake in the middle of the forest
• campus during summer
• family gatherings
• construction site after works have gone home
• leaving a tent at midnight
• lonely swings
• overgrown fields
• from twilight to dusk
• farmland thats covered in the morning fog
• suburban neighborhoods filled with tension and wind before a large summer thunderstorm
• being at an abandoned place knowing that years ago at that exact same moment there were people
• the feeling of being chased by someone/something
• knowing you’re not alone in a certain place like a forest

this feeling is scary as FUCK it dawns upon you that something is so quiet or abandoned or empty and vacant that its like the universe forgot to make something happen in the one spotlike you found a glitch in real life like everything seems fake and unreal and real and not fake all at one and youre so confused

  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas
  • The fear was almost on the same level as claustrophobia, but on a much more basic level
  • He didn’t get irrationally panicked when being in small rooms or tight tunnels
  • He didn’t cry or scream when being in a small space, nor did he get violent and hysteric
  • It wasn’t fear that gripped him, but rather discomfort on a level that made every molecule in his body squirm 
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas so much that he almost wasn’t allowed to continue to his third year after skipping so many potions lessons
  • Refusing to be in the dungeouns for a longer period of time
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas so much that the main reason he never kissed anyone before Sirius was that kissing anyone would in one way or another lead to a broom closet
  • Remus would rather die than be stuck in a broom closet with another person, taking half the oxygen 
  • Remus Lupin always slept with one of the curtains around his bed open so he could see the room around him if he woke up from a nightmare
  • And when the other Marauders realized this was a thing, they slept with the curtains open too 
  • Sirius always hypothesized that the fear was grounded in two things
  1.  Being locked in the basement of his parents house after he got bit
  2. The fear of not having an escape route 
  • But Remus knew better
  • The fear was based on the air in small areas
  • The fear was based on not being able to see the sky
  • Small rooms where the oxygen would slowly disapear after long periods of time, making the room warm and stuffy made it feel like he would choke to death
  • Small rooms where the air smelled like dust and being forgotten
  • He never wanted to be forgotten
  • Rooms below the ground without windows
  • Unable to see the sky. Unable to know what the time was. Unable to know where in the sky the sun or moon was
  • Rooms where there only was one exit, not the fear of being cornered but rather the damage he could do if cornered 
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas
  • and during fullmoons he would find himself in the forest, always making his way to meadows and openings in the canopy 
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas and was willing to give up his chance of a future for it 
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas, and would open pull off curtains in rooms and refuse to close doors
  • Remus Lupin hated closed areas where he couldn’t see the moon
9 Things Couples Do - Jim Kirk

Summary: People do funny, stupid, cute, and sad things when they’re in love.

Warnings: language, a bit fluffy

A/N: everyone, i love jim kirk. i hope this is as good as it was in my head and better than i actually think its mediocre ass turned out (i am sick, though, so who knows). it’s such a long fic, y’all.


One

Jim assumed your favorite ice cream flavor was strawberry and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Especially not when he was looking at you in the way he was.

Impacted by the width and intensity of his smile, his eyes were narrowed and illuminated. He looked softer that way— less authoritative, less like the Captain Kirk the crew served under— he looked like the Jim you’d fallen for.

When the girl behind the counter looked at you with an eyebrow raised in question, you gave her a half-shrug you made sure was hidden from Jim. “Just one scoop, please.”

“One?” Jim asked, turning a little to look at you. He snorted and rolled the blue eyes that could have lit up the entire old-school San Francisco parlor. “Baby. And here I thought you had a gut of steel.”

“It’s not polite to comment on what metal you think makes-up the gut of your significant other.”

He snorted again, his fingertips shoving you with a force your weakened legs didn’t have the strength to withstand. He caught you before you could stumble a few inches to the right, immediately clasping his hand in yours. “Still tired from the…” he cleared his throat, “walk?”

The girl behind the counter giggled loud enough to force your teeth into your tongue, your cheeks and the tops of your ears burning instantly. You squeezed Jim’s hand so a wince left his lips and he snatched it back from yours. “I’m tired from the actual walk here. It’s uphill. And I do have a gut of steel— a roomy gut of steel, roomier than yours.”

Jim titled his head and took his gaze from yours to meet that of the girl busying herself with your strawberry ice cream and Jim’s chocolate with peanut butter swirled throughout. He smiled at her. “Did that sound like a challenge to you? Did you hear me being challenged by the person that is supposed to love me, to uplift me?”

“I do love you,” you mumbled before you looked at the girl and took the cone she offered you. “He’s dramatic— excuse him, please.”

You looked down at the already melting pink mess, then back up at Jim. You quirked a single eyebrow. “But let’s say I was challenging you— that I’m betting you my gut’s roomier than yours. What’s that entail?”

“Whoever finishes the most ice cream in twenty minutes.”

“That’s a long ass time, Jim. We just had dinner—”

Ten minutes. No cones, just cups and spoons— cones take too long to finish.”

“The usual stakes or do you wanna modify them?”

“The usual stakes,” he said with a single nod. He was smirking so openly and cockily. It bugged you.

“We’ll tip you generously,” you told the girl who was now staring at the two of you with eyes the size and shape of saucers. “You just have to keep up, okay? Two servings ahead of us each time just to be safe. No stopping even when I look like my brain has frozen itself into a coma.”

Jim clapped his hands together. “This is what you trained for!”

“I-I haven’t really trained,” she said. She sounded nervous— a wise girl to be nervous, you thought.

You and Jim looked at one another, shrugged, and beckoned her to begin scooping.

Keep reading

Cabin//pt.2

(gif not mine, credit to the owner. Btw this is a good ass gif I applaud you)

genre: smut (not in this part, in later parts), fluff, friend!au, skinny dipping

warning: skinny dipping, graphic smut (again in later parts. in the next part you ask? idk, guess you’ll have to find out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), Baekhyun is a fuckin tease just like how he is in real life.

length: idk man pretty long

Authors note: I want to thank you all for all the positive responses I’ve received for cabin, it really means a lot because I literally wrote it just to write it and now you guys are messaging me the nicest stuff so thank you. Btw I kind of changed up my writing style in this one, so instead of the huge block paragraphs everything is spaced out a little better. Anyway, here’s cabin pt. 2, enjoy.

(I didn’t really know what to do with pt.2 so I don’t know if I’m entirely happy with it so if you guys wanna leave requests or ideas for later parts in my ask box it would be awesome because I want to see where you guys want me to take this.)

pt: 2
___

“So I guess it’s just you and me till Friday.”

It was like every cell in your body started to reek havoc. Friday? That’s another 5 days alone with Baekhyun, not to mention that you had literally just watched him touch himself to the thought of you no longer than 5 minutes ago; and now you would have to spend 5 days trying not to attack him.

“That’s 5 days. What are we going to do for food?”

Baekhyun put his phone down onto the island that stood in the middle of the kitchen, “I guess my mom left us $200 in emergency money, so that should be good enough, right?” The last word left his lips a little shaky.

“Yeah that should be fine.” You started to walk towards the window, trying to hide the fact that your face had turned a bright shade of pink.

You heard Baekhyun take a deep inhale in, and then his footsteps heading in your direction until he was standing right beside you, looking out towards the lake and many trees.

“Is… Is that okay?” Baekhyun questions, “Because if it isn’t then I understand, I can call my mom and tell them to come home immed…”

He was cut off by your words “Baekhyun it’s okay, I promise. I could really use 5 days to get away from my mom’s constant dancing and blabbling and my Dad talking about golf literally 24/7” you giggled turning to see that Baekhyun was laughing along too.

“Yeah and my Mom’s terrible songs she makes up when she’s doing random tasks,” he starts to tap the glass of the window “or how my Dad literally falls asleep everywhere that he sits for more than 10 minutes.” the way he laughs is only making you laugh harder, “and don’t even get me started on my brother’s constant ‘I’m an athlete mom, not a housemaid’.” he says in the deepest voice he can possibly manage. He sighs “Let’s just make these next five days fun.“ he says turning to meet your eyes, and once again you find yourself melting by the sight of his smile, it really is your favorite thing about him.

You turn back to the window, “Agreed.”

Baekhyun stops tapping on the window and puts his hand down, accidentally brushing yours. You fight the chill coursing through your body.

You turn on your heel to head to the various cupboards displayed across the kitchen, “well first we have to figure out what were gonna eat for lunch.” You shuffle through the various canned items.

During your search for at least something that could possibly work to eat, you felt Baekhyun’s hands on your hips behind you, you freeze. He looks over your shoulder as if this was an innocent act.

“Why don’t we have some ravioli?” His grip on your hips loosened till they were no more.

“Yeah…” with shaky hands you grab the two cans “…sure.”

Baekhyun takes a seat at the island, “Is everything okay?” He asks with fake confusion in his face, he knew what he was doing.

“Yeah I’m fine. Uh… do you want orange juice or canada dry?”

“Canada dry is good.” He sits up straight. “So about the room situation…”

You turn to face him.

“I think it’s too cold at night for us to… sleep apart.” You flush at his words.

You turn back around so you could finish making the food, “Yeah, it really was freezing last night.”

“I felt like I was gonna get frostbite.”

“Yeah I could tell, you were strangling me.” you laugh.

“YAH at least you were warm!” he smirks, “You were enjoying the sight too.”

You flush. “Shut up!” You throw an ice cube at him from the freezer.

He throws his arms up in defeat, “Okay okay, you were just strangled… totally not staring at me while I slept.”

You had no words. Glaring, you threw another ice cube at him.

“Hey! Stop that!” He laughs covering his body to block further cubes.

You place the Ravioli in front of him, “Your majesty.” You say with a bow.

“Thank you my humble servant.” Baekhyun says returning your bow.

You two sit at the island. “Weren’t we supposed to have PB&J’s?” Baekhyun asks turning to you.

You laugh “I totally forgot.”
___

You find yourself laying on the couch, reading Fahrenheit 451. A pouty Baekhyun enters the room, “y/n I’m bored.” He lifts your legs from the couch and sits, placing them in his lap.

‘This little shit’ was all you could really think.

You sat up, legs still in his lap. “Well what would you like to do?”

He pauses, thinking for a second “Hold on.” Baekhyun takes your legs off his lap and stands, placing them back down on the couch, and heads into your shared room. He returns with his portable speaker and stands with his phone in hand, trying to connect it. Out from the speaker blasts Strawberry Afternoons by Lonely Benson.

He holds out his hand, “Dance with me?” he asks with puppy dog eyes.
You sigh, placing your bookmark back in your book and putting it on the table to stand. You take his hand and he starts swinging you, twirling you, and moving all over the cabin with you. You both are laughing as you dance together. Just as Baekhyun goes to twirl you, within an instant both of his feet fly up from beneath him as he lands on his back. You couldn’t contain your laughter and had to get on the floor as you held your stomach, tears streaming from your eyes trying to ask if he was okay through your cackling. Baekhyun groaned but as soon as he saw you he started laughing too. Soon you both were rolling around on the floor laughing so hard it had almost become painful.

“That was” you heave “the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” still on the floor. Your abs and face hurt.

“Shut up.” He smiles, pushing your shoulder.

Brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face You sit up, “What time is it?”

Baekhyun sits up for a brief second to look at the clock on the stove, “2:07am″ he lays back on the floor, massaging his cheeks from the laughter.

You stand, “come on, I wanna show you something.” You put out your hand. Hesitating for only a second, he takes it, allowing you to lead him.

You climb the wooden ladder that leads into the loft, with Baekhyun right behind you “your brother showed this to my sister and I a couple years ago and made us promise not to tell you about it.”

He pouts, “What, why?”

“You were being a quote ‘little asshole’ that day I guess.” You giggle, finally reaching the loft. You head towards the little walk in closet just to the right of the room. Walking inside you look up, a small trap door placed in the middle. You turn to Baekhyun, “give me boost will ya?” Giving him your leg, he cupped his hands and hoisted you up. You grabbed the little latch on the trap door and pulled it down, a wooden staircase falling down with it.

“What the hell” Baekhyun whispered.

You started to go up the stairs, until you climbed into an attic. It was small and smelled of dust and who knows what from over the years. The room was shaped like a triangle with a window to the left and various boxes that covered the floor.

You turned around to see Baekhyun studying the room, “why did you bring me up here?”

As your answer, you opened the window. “You trust me?” he nods, “then come on.”

You climb out of the window. The view is absolutely stunning; the moon shines on the still lake perfectly, and you could see all the lights going down the mountain, lighting up the forest just a bit.

“This is the roof.” Baekhyun states after climbing out the window too.

You nod, “Your brother used to take my sister up here when he had a crush on her Junior year.” You laugh a little, still staring at the scenery around you.

He turns to face you. “What now?”

You sit, and look out, your hands finding the wood beneath you to fiddle with the broken off pieces and Baekhyun takes a seat right next to you, “So tell me about life…” you blink up at him. “You know your favorite things, how life’s going, where you want to travel. You know things like that.” He adds, waiting for some sort of answer.

“Well, life’s pretty good. I’m top 2% at our school and I just got offered a scholarship for Golf from NYC and an Art scholarship from UCLA.”

“Besides focusing on school every second of your life, what do you like to do?” Baekhyun presses. When you look at him, his attention is fully on you, he actually wants to hear about it.

“I don’t know, I uh… I like to draw and paint, and music is sometimes my everything. I really like plants so I care for my garden. And writing, Oh I could write or read, or maybe even both for hours,” you babble “and I really really like to watch movies.”

Baekhyun smiled, “Which movies?”

“I don’t know there’s so many,” You look up at the sky, thinking. “I fall in love with practically every movie I watch. I guess mostly 80′s movies.”

Baekhyun lights up, “Really? Me too!”

You smile at his enthusiasm. “My Dad and I always watch 80′s movies, like hmm… The Karate Kid, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Rocky 1-a friken million, Full Metal Jacket, Pretty Woman. All those movies.”

“Or The Outsiders, Back to the Future, Pretty in Pink, Ghost Busters, A Christmas Story, The Goonies…” he continues with his eyes closed trying to think. “Oh! or the Princess Bride, Stand By Me.”

“Yes! All those!” You squeal.

Baekhyun smiles and you shiver, half from it being like 15 degrees outside, and from his goddamn smile.

“It’s cold.” You murmur, hugging yourself.

Baekhyun stands, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Disappearing into the attic. He reappeared about a minute and a half later with a thick flannel blanket. “It’s the thickest one I could find.” He sits as close to you as he can and wraps the blanket around both of you. You melt into his warmth as you both sit in comfortable silence, looking out at the lake.

“Hey,” Baekhyun breaks the silence. “I just.. Look. I’m sorry for being so mean to you all these years. I know that I was cruel and you don’t have to forgive me, just know that I’m sorry.” He’s looking up at the stars, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Baekhyun,” He looks down at you. “I forgive you. I knew it wasn’t the real you.” You smile sweetly at him, giving him reassuring eyes.

“Thank you.” He says before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “So what kind of music do you like?”
___

You can see the sky turning different shades of pink and blue, the signs that the sun is about to rise.

“What time is it?” Baekhyun asks, he had his head on your shoulder playing with the fringe at the end of the flannel.

“Erm…” You take your phone out of your pocket. “Approximately 5:43am.” You state, tucking your phone back into it’s previous place.

Baekhyun shifts so he can look at you. “Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

You and Baekhyun had spent hours just talking about life in general, about people, about the world, everything. It was nice to finally see him for him.

“Do you wanna go swimming?”

You look down at him, his head still on your shoulder. “Right now?” he looks at you and nods. “But isn’t the water freezing?”

Baekhyun sits up, “So, it’s freezing all day, what’s the difference? Please please please.” He implored, giving you those puppy eyes again.

You give a long dramatic sigh, “Fine, I guess the sunrise will be beautiful from the water.”

Baekhyun shoots you a toothy grin before grabbing both the blanket and your wrist to drag you downstairs.

As he starts to walk towards the door you stop in confusion, “Wait. Are you not gonna get your trunks?”

Baekhyun turns around, “No” a smirk is played across his face.

Dear god.

You walk out the door and follow Baekhyun as you reach the lake. There’s a small wooden pier that Baekhyun takes you to the end of.

“Do you want to go first?” He asks as you look down at the water.

“Were going in fully clothed?” You ask confused.

Baekhyun looks at you, you watch as his fingers hook underneath the hem of his shirt before he pulls it off. “No, were not going in fully clothed.” And there it is again, that damn smirk that you can’t seem to get away from. Baekhyun continues with his shorts as you watch, frozen. It wasn’t until he was about to pull off his boxers you turn the opposite direction, until you hear a splash. You turn around to see a happy Baekhyun swimming in the light blue water. “Come on y/n, it’s almost sunrise.”

Shit. You start with your shirt, crossing your arms to pull it over your head. You close your eyes praising yourself for deciding to wear a cute bra today. Next you unbuttoned your shorts, pushing them down your legs, kicking them off when they reached your ankles. You turned away from Baekhyun to unhook your bra, letting the straps fall down your arms and then throwing it aside, covering yourself with your right arm. You look behind you to see Baekhyun’s eyes trailing up and down your backside.

“Hey turn around!” You scold, blushing at his intrusion.
When he turns around you pull down your panties and try to slowly ease your way into the ice cold water. It was just shallow enough so you could stand, but also deep enough to cover your chest. As you refocus your gaze, you see Baekhyun turned away from you, looking at the pink sun just now peeking out from behind the trees. The sky was a beautiful mixture of pink, purple, and light oranges. You hike up the courage and swim till you’re standing right beside him.
Suddenly Baekhyun puts an arm around your bare waist, constricting so that you’re close to him, your entire body heating up with something close to embarrassment. His hand travels up and down your side, feeling your skin beneath his touch. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, his touch, the feeling of his flesh pressed against yours is driving you over the edge. As you look down you can see his cock below the water, inviting you to touch, to taste. Your mouth starts to salivate knowing that he can probably see you just as well as you can see him, making you press your legs together as you remember the way his cock looked in his hands yesterday. You blush at the dirty thoughts that flood your mind, at how hard you’re pressing your thigh together. Just as you thought he was going to make a move, he swims in the opposite direction.

Goddamnit he’s such a tease.

“Ah I’ve never felt so free.” Baekhyun dips his head below the water, wetting his hair. “Y/n, this is the best idea I’ve had in ages.”

You start to swim around too, splashing Baekhyun occasionally when he decides to be an ass.
___

You rush inside going straight to the bathroom so you could peel off your cold wet clothes. You start to panic when you realize you don’t have any extra clothes with you and both towels are currently in the wash.

“Baekhyun.” You peek your head out from behind the door.

He comes out of the room and stands in the hallway, laughing lightly at your appearance.

“Can you bring me some clothes?” You ask trying as hard as you possibly could to not let him catch a glimpse of your body behind the door.

Baekhyun smiles a mischievous smile. “Sure.” He heads into the room and you could feel his smile radiating through you as he entered the hallway and gave you the small wad of clothes in his hand.

“Thanks.” You say high pitched and fast as you close the door almost too fast.
When you unravel the wad of clothes you see that it’s just a large white plain t-shirt and a pair of pink panties. “Are you fucking kidding me.” you whisper to yourself. But its all you’ve got, so you put them on, tugging down the hem of the shirt as you walk out of the bathroom.

When you walk into the room Baekhyun is laying down on the bed, scrolling through something on his phone. When he looks up at you he smiles and opens his arms for you to come and lay down next to him, “C’mon, let’s at least get a couple hours of sleep.” You smile, crossing the room to crawl into bed with him, forgetting entirely about your lack of clothing. Baekhyun wraps his arms and legs around you just as he did the previous night, and you found yourself falling asleep faster than you had anticipated.
___

You wake up to an empty bed. Grabbing your phone from your nightstand you read 12:57pm. You stretch your limbs and think about the events that took place yesterday and this morning. It’s so crazy how literally a couple days ago Baekhyun was just the guy that hated you, that always made it certain that he didn’t care for you, the guy that you avoided to spare your own feelings.

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by a couple noises coming from the kitchen. You unwrap yourself from all the blankets and go to your suitcase to look for some shorts and a clean bra to put on. When you’re finished dressing you head out to the kitchen where you see Baekhyun sitting peacefully playing on his laptop at the dining room table.

He looks up to see you standing there “hey.” he says, standing to walk towards you. As he reaches you he places both hands on your waist and looks down at you, your face beet red as you stare up at him. Jesus Christ, what’s with him always grabbing your waist if he’s not gonna do anything further.

He smirks and lets go of you, walking into the kitchen to open up the fridge. He pulls out a Canada Dry and a string cheese. Still smirking he turns to face you.
“You know you sleep talk.”
________________________________________________________________

Authors note: Thanks for reading! Please please please, if you have any requests or suggestions for what you want to see in Part 3 please don’t be afraid to leave them in my ask box also with other request for senerios, smuts, drabbles, reactions, etc.

Stories

never submitted anything to a blog like this before and it’s not going to be near as good as everyone else’s but I couldn’t get rid of the idea

Back home, you used to be known for storytelling. Not the wild and unbridled force of creation that builds and destroys entire worlds in moments, that fearsome superpower – though you have that too, but that is for you and you alone thus far, and you haven’t gotten the courage to share it – but rather the ability to retell a memory in the most entertaining way possible.

People seemed to like it when you took your memories, pieces of yourself, and told them as a story. Back home they did, at least.
At school, your roommate mutters something about not sharing so much personal information as she turns her socks inside out. In the classroom – where you can never quite remember what you’ve learned, but you always leave with more stories creeping about in your mind – occasionally students listen with a gaze just a little too sharp, the feeling of more eyes than you can see on your back.

But storytelling is in your blood, it’s part of who you are, and so you tell your stories. Happy ones, funny ones, tales of adventure and mischief that you thought were mundane until you grew older. Actually, compared to Elsewhere, they are mundane.

There’s one story you haven’t told yet, one that everyone in your family pretends not to know. It’s the tale of why you came to Elsewhere, the tale of the Thing you saw as a child, that took your cousin when the two of you played in a forest, and promised to return for you. Why you decided to go to college upstate and not attend the local university. You thought you were escaping the madness. (Sometimes you see the shadows at the corner of the stairwell and hear horns on the quad at night and wonder if you leapt from the frying pan to the fire)

It’s why you twine iron wire through your curls in decorative spires and carry salt packets sewn into your clothes, and carry old things from your grandmothers that you aren’t sure will help you (but grandmothers can be so very stubborn)

You’ve started to hear things on campus. Students who disappear and come back Different, if they come back at all, or other students who make the brave but foolish journey Underhill to rescue one of their own. Everything you’ve learned since coming here suggests that asking about it is pointless, if not outright dangerous, but at the same time you can’t help wondering if they’d know anything about the Thing that took your cousin. You know that one day you’ll find one of the students who made it There and Back Again, and when you do, you’ll tell your story.

Close to autumn you find yourself in one of the thin places on campus. It was an accident, you were simply too preoccupied with an upcoming exam to notice the air turn unseasonably warm and humid, and before you know it, you’ve walked three times the length of what the hall should’ve been, and each time you find yourself back at the lockers, the air is warmer, heavier, and the ground is softer. Somehow you instinctively understand that you must keep moving. To stop here would be a grave mistake. So you keep walking, and the air feels like the breath of something huge and moist, and you’re pretty sure there’s mud squelching beneath your feet now but you really don’t want to look.

It’s when you do look that the tiles, soft as mud and unyielding as stone, swallow your feet to the ankles and you are trapped. You curse your foolishness in three different languages – two of which are fictional and one of which was invented by you. This one feels stronger, and when you say “Flames take it!” you can almost feel a spark of phantom heat by your legs – and hear something laugh in the darkness.

“You are stuck,” it says.

You demand to be set free, even as you twine a strand of iron-wrapped around your hair and clutch your necklace – from your grandmother, a tiny bottle filled with salt and mustard seeds. You’re not sure if mustard seeds have any significance or if she just liked them – and try to look anywhere but shifting, oily shadows that smell of dust and moss. You suspect that demanding anything from one of Them will be a fruitless endeavor, but you’re frightened now and the liquid tile is sucking you down further. It’s up to your knees here. It occurs to you that you might die like this, that you might disappear just like your cousin and all those other students disappeared.

“What will you give me?” It asks.

Before you can think, you answer, “A story.”

There’s a bubbling silence before It makes a hiss that sounds too pleased to mean anything good. “Yes,” It says, “A story. But I’ve heard all yours. Make it one I haven’t heard before.”

This is tricky. The wrong story could mean death, and when It says It’s heard all your stories It probably wasn’t exaggeration. You could tell It one of your original tales, the stories of pirates and dragons and giants, but those feel too personal. There is too much of you in those stories, and that is your world, with your characters. You can’t help feeling a bit protective of them.
That just leaves The Story.

So you tell It a story about two children playing in a wood. About a thing like a skinless horse with the torso of a man grafted into its back. About fleeing in terror as the Thing chased you both through the trees, and your cousin’s squeal of fright as it grabbed him, just missing you as you splashed across the shallow creek. You go into greater detail than you ever have before, telling It things you didn’t even tell your family before they called the police.
You remember the color of the Thing’s rolling eyes and glistening muscle.
You remember the way its head seemed to wobble back and forth like it was attached to the wrong body.
You remember it promising that water would not always save you.
You remember knowing that running water might be the answer, even if you don’t have the question it goes to yet.
You didn’t want to tell this story, but you can’t stop the words now no matter how hard you try.

All is silent when you finish your tale, and for a moment you fear you were talking to the air. Then, with a slurp, the tiles spit you back out again and you’re standing on solid ground.

“That is a good story,” It says, “I think I’ll keep it.” with these cryptic words and directions to simply follow the hallway, he leaves you and you find yourself running all the way to the stairwell. You thank your lucky stars that you got out none the worse for wear and you are astonished that you managed it at all.

When you tell your roommate, she is concerned. “What did you give Them in exchange for Their help?” she asks you.

“Just a story,” You answer.

Which story? You have a million.”

“It was the one about-” and you stop. Not because you never decided whether or not to tell your roommate. Not because you’re preoccupied or distracted.
No.
The words wedge in your throat, sticking to the back of your tongue, coating your tonsils like thick dust. They won’t come out. For a moment you’re afraid that you might not be able to speak at all. So you try to tell a different story, and that comes out loud and clear. But when you try to explain again that you told the story of how Something took your cousin away – presumably Underhill if not someplace worse – your tongue seems to shrivel in your mouth and the words lodge in the soft parts of your throat like little needles.

That’s a good story. I think I’ll keep it.

It isn’t your story to tell anymore. For once, words do not obey you. Your roommate sees your rising panic, sees the tears welling up in your eyes, and takes pity on you.

“Tell me a different story,” she says, “A made-up one.”

She used to scold you about telling stories all the time, so at first you don’t understand what she’s doing. Then she asks, “What story didn’t you tell?”
The rather obvious wink when she says this gives you and idea.

Words are your tools and they always have been. Until today, they have always obeyed you. You know how to make a truth sound like a lie and a lie like truth. And so you carefully craft a lie so close to the truth, using characters so close to being you and your cousin, that you are sure your roommate understands.

Forever after this, you season your stories with lies in case you must trade them, so that the truth remains yours to tell. You learn say nearly anything and keep it just close enough to fact to fool someone.

You don’t realize that you’re learning to talk like Them until you find one trapped in the snare an upperclassman set near the library, all salt and iron. It yowls like a cat and screams like a child and its three hands scrabble for purchase. It wants out, you know this.
You cock your head and say, “What will you give me if I release you?

It’s only fair, you think. A story for a story.
You’re playing a dangerous game.

[x]

Date a cryptid with a body of wax under her lace skin. She smell like dust and old candles, and look beautiful in her vintage yellow dress. She lives in the abandoned thrift shop next to your house, and if peek inside at night you may see her dancing alone with the music from an old record player. Dance with her.

EVAK FANFICTION RECS / PART 11

Hi loves! So 2 weeks passed and I’m back with another part of my long-ass Evak fanfiction recs series, hooray! I never know what else to write here, so I’ll just shut up for now. All the fics can be found under the cut. Happy reading!

As always, the list is divided into oneshots and chaptered fics.
My personal favorites are tagged with a “ ★ ”.
Completed chaptered fics are tagged with a “ ✓ ”

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jeongguk; 13 hours preview

❝this has been sitting in my drafts folder for so long ahaha 
►565 words; not suitable for younger audiences, mafia!jeongguk 

► warnings; gore

Your head hurt.

Correction – everything hurt.

As soon as you opened your eyes you were greeted with the familiar feeling of the inside of your head throbbing; the constant stinging pain that once took refuge in your entire body was now reduced to a dull ache lingering in your bones, the smell of iron and dust danced in the air and invaded your nostrils. Your head hung low, arms and feet bound together against the cold metal chair with thick rope stained a strong color of drying crimson. The deep gashes that ran across your thighs and arms were oozing blood, dripping down your legs in thick streams and landing on the slate floor at your sides in large puddles like a waterfall, the hollow sound reverberating against the concrete walls and making you dizzy. You lifted your head slowly, eyes covered by a curtain of thickly matted and dirty hair hanging in front of your face as you studied the man in front of you, his squatting position letting your eyes meet each other at a downward angle. You took in his face, the boy-like features would have proven you safe in his presence mere hours before if you didn’t know what he was capable of.

“This would be a lot easier if you were to cooperate with me, sweetheart.” He spoke, his face feigning innocence as he lips puckered out in a pout, the tip of the blood-covered blade running over your calf agonizingly slow. “Just tell me who sent you and this will all be over.”

You gathered the blood that has been pooling in your mouth, spitting it directly into the face of the man in front of you. You watched as he closed his eyes, facing staying as neutral as it was before as your blood and saliva splattered across his left eye and eyebrow. He stood up slowly, yanking your head back by your hair harshly with a smirk. He wiped the blood off his face with his thumb and spread across your right cheek, pulling your bottom lip down with the tip of his finger before pulling away abruptly.

“You know I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.” He began, his voice getting louder with each word that passed from his lips. “Why won’t you just be obedient for fucking once and just tell me who the fuck sent you?”

His fists slammed against the old metal table, expression darkening with rage for the first time over the last 13 hours with every passing second. His hair was falling into his face, casting an ominous shadow across his sharp features. You jumped, watching him from the corner of your eye as he began pacing back of forth, mumbling to himself, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Who’s your leader?” His voice was filled with hostility, whole body stiff as blood dripped from the crescent marks on the inside of his palm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yes you do!” His voice was loud, shaking you to core and making you recoil in fear as it echoed in the otherwise empty room, only further proving to make your headache worse and rage stronger. You looked him in the eye, his white T-shirt painted with splatters of your blood and dark brown hair disheveled, covering his eyes that were filled with rage and growing annoyance.

No, I don’t!

The New Girl

Jughead x reader 

MASTERLIST

Requested: Anonymous said: I need some good Juggie writing in my life. That boy is just on my mind and here’s what I’m thinking. Maybe like your from the Southside and you’ve met Juggie before and his dad jokes around saying that you and his boy would be perfect and then like your family or just like you move from the south side to Riverdale and you really start to know Juggie better. Maybe under that tough outside she’s a huge fluff and loves to hug and cuddle

A/N: So willing to do a part two if you guys want!!!

Words: 3634

Warnings: Mentions of bulling


Originally posted by admireforever

Jug and I had been friends since I could remember which made everyone speculated our relationship but we always remained friends. It was only until recently that I had started developing feelings for Jughead but I kept them suppressed in fear of ruining our friendship, I mean who wants to lose their best friend over some stupid emotions.

 Today I left school and went straight to the trailer park and turned a right going towards Jug’s trailer instead of mine. I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door but my expression dulled as Fp opened the door. “Hey Mr. Jones.” I grinned and stepped inside as he motioned for me to come in.

 “Hi Y/N, Jug will be home in a few seconds, I was actually just heading out, so no funny business while I’m gone okay?” He chuckled and pulled on his coat.

 “It’s not like that Mr. Jones.” I groaned as he laughed at me.

 “Well it could easily be like that with you two, you never leave each other alone.” He chuckled and shook his head. Jughead walked in just as Fp reached for the door to leave which made Fp laugh again, “Bye you love birds,” he said between laughs, “remember, no funny business.” He called as he closed the door behind him.

 Jughead turned to face me with a confused look washed over his face I shrugged and stepped towards him enveloping him in a hug. “How was school?” He mumbled into my shoulder then pulled away to my expression, I shrugged again and sighed which made him frown and push back the hair falling in my face. “That bad?” He sighed and dropped his bag to the floor.

 I had always gone to South Side High and Jug had always gone to Riverdale High which didn’t really matter but lately these kids in my class kept tormenting me, writing disgusting notes all over my locker, books and desks. Sometimes they would try physically hurt me and one group of boys often tried to corner me and have their way. I was moving to Riverdale High tomorrow and to say I was excited was an understatement, I was so glad that I was escaping the torture.

 “Don’t worry, with me around tomorrow no one will hurt you.” He grinned and pulled me into another hug.

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2

He held me hard against him then, without speaking, and I could feel the pulsebeat in his throat, hammering like my own. His hands went to my bare shoulders, and he held me slightly away, so that I was looking upward into his face. His hands were large and very warm, and I felt slightly dizzy.

“I want ye, Claire,” he said, sounding choked. He paused a moment, as though unsure what to say next. “I want ye so much— I can scarcely breathe. Will—” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Will ye have me?” 

By now I had found my voice. It squeaked and wobbled, but it worked.

Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“I think …” he began, then stopped. He fumbled loose the buckle of his kilt, but then looked up at me, bunching his hands at his sides. He spoke with difficulty, controlling something so powerful that his hands shook with the effort. “I’ll not … I can’t … Claire, I canna be gentle about it.” 

I had time only to nod once, in acknowledgment or permission, before he bore me back before him, his weight pinning me to the bed. 

He did not pause to undress further. I could smell the road dust in his shirt, and taste the sun and sweat of travel on his skin. He held me, arms outstretched, wrists pinioned. One hand brushed the wall, and I felt the tiny scrape of one wedding ring chiming against the stone. One ring for each hand, one silver, one gold. And the thin metal suddenly heavy as the bonds of matrimony, as though the rings were tiny shackles, fastening me spread-eagled to the bed, stretched forever between two poles, held in bondage like Prometheus on his lonely rock, divided love the vulture that tore at my heart.

1.09 The Reckoning

Places where reality is a bit altered
  • any target
  • abandoned 7/11’s
  • your bedroom at 5 am
  • hospitals at midnight
  • warehouses that smell like dust
  • lighthouses with lights that don’t work any more
  • empty parking lots
  • ponds and lakes in suburban neighbourhoods
  • rooftops in the early morning
  • inside a dark cabinet
  • playgrounds at night
  • rest stops on highways
  • deep in the mountains
  • early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed
  • trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
  • schools during breaks
  • those little beaches right next to ferry docks
  • bowling alleys
  • galleries in art museums that are empty except for you
  • unfamiliar McDonald’s on long road trips
  • your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep 
  • laundromats at midnight
  • the lighting section of home depot
  • stairwells
  • hospital waiting rooms
  • airports from midnight to 7am
  • bathrooms in small concert venues
take me higher

nobody else can take me higher / nobody else

Summary: Post-season one. Victor’s past and the things he lacked, and his present with the things he’s gained.

Word Count: 13,869

A/N: This fic has been banging on the doors to be written since January, and now I’ve finally gotten it done. It’s basically an in-depth study on Victory’s motivations, his past, and what he wants with Yuuri moving forward. I’m not used to writing things longer than 5k, so hopefully y’all enjoy!

You can also find this posted on AO3.

The first time Victor remembers meeting Irina Fyodorova, she is a stranger to him: the woman in photobooks in his father’s study, worn and forgotten where he’d kept them in the bottom drawer of his large oaken desk. Victor finds them on his own when he is four or five, sneaking into his father’s study without permission. The memory is vague—long ago as it is, but something of it remains with him anyway. He recalls the heavy smell of cedar and dust that rises from the drawer, heavy and stuck on the frame that fights against its opening. It grates wood on wood, and the pictures appear to have been thrown inside, piled and crumpled and grey, her face colorless and caught in stills that try so hard to trap her there. So when he meets her only a few months later, he knows her face because he has seen it in those photos; but in front of him she is surreal, and unfamiliar, and he cannot comprehend quite how he is supposed to know her as his mother.

It never really changes the more they meet over the years. He grows older, and she becomes less intimidating, alien, unreal. She calls him ‘Vitya’; he calls her ‘Mama.’ He knows intellectually what she is to him, but Victor can never quite feel as though he really knows her. They live separate lives: changing and growing in their time apart. It’s a distance he feels that he can never really breach, a strangeness in a mother he only sees once every few months in a year. She will always, no matter how well he knows her, be a stranger he cannot fully understand.  

In an odd way how he feels about his mother is not so different now from how he feels towards the city of St. Petersburg.

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Studying

Adam tends to dedicate the three days before a big exam to studying.

He sits himself at a table in the back of his favorite cafe on campus, where no one ventures because of how cramped it is, and makes himself at home. The sloped roof, wooden beams, and aged hardwood floors remind him of his tiny room back at St. Agnes.

Today, the smell of dust is enough to conjure up a memory from last summer; when Ronan helped him pack away his belongings the night before he left for college. He quickly pushes the memory away before it can take root.

Like usual, his classmates only join him for day one of what they call the Parrish Regiment, while his roommate stays through day two to keep Adam company. The third day, however, is when Adam is left to study on his own.

He becomes restless from studying for hours upon hours with little time in between to use the bathroom, eat, and sleep. But the more time he spends here, the higher the chances are that he’ll pass his exams and head into his winter break stress free. Just a handful of days until he gets to see–

His cellphone vibrates on the table, a picture of Ronan holding up his middle finger popping up on the screen. He answers and tries to sound as if he weren’t just thinking about the other boy. Apparently, that’s not hard to do when you’re exhausted and running on four hours of sleep.

“Lynch. I’m studying,” Adam croaks, while rubbing at his eyes. He’s read the same passage in his textbook four times.

“Adam!” It’s Opal’s high voice that greets him and Adam instantly feels warmth begin to flood his chest. All traces of exhaustion are momentarily forgotten.

“Opal,” he sighs fondly. There’s a sound of buttons being pressed, then comes Ronan’s voice:

“I thought the brat should know something other than ‘Kerah’ and elementary level Latin. How’s the studying going?”

Just like Ronan to change the subject so Adam wouldn’t comment on him taking the time to teach Opal his name. The attempt doesn’t stop the burning behind his eyes or the lump forming in his throat, though.

“I miss you,” Adam whispers.

“Adam. You know I miss you, too,” Ronan doesn’t hesitate with his response. “Finish studying, so you can ace your tests, hop in your shitmobile, and get your ass back here. Your break starts next week, right?”

“Mm,” Adam bobs his head a little, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, keep studying. I’ll stay on the line and keep you company, so you don’t cry like a fucking wuss. Deal?”

“Deal,” Adam laughs.

And Ronan does keep him company. He puts himself on speaker while he goes about the rest of his evening, so that he’s not making too much noise in Adam’s ear. There’s the sound of Opal’s hooves on hardwood floor, a screen door opening and closing, pots and pans being moved around in the kitchen. At one point, Ronan begins to sing something Adam’s only ever heard him hum before and he thinks of Cabeswater, of peaceful summer nights spent in the Barns with Ronan’s hand in his.

“Thank you,” Adam says so quietly, he’s sure his boyfriend won’t hear it. But he does.

“Anytime.”

anonymous asked:

Hi there! I love you, love your writing and would love love love if you'd write a missing scene that maybe changes the end of the wine&cheese incident. Where Mulder went back and grew some balls? Thank you!!!!!!!!!❤️😘

He knocks on her door later that night.  They’ve finally made it to the conference, too late to build a tower of furniture.  Agent Stonecypher pouted all through dinner, but at least they haven’t missed the entire day of workshops or the keynote speaker.  Mulder knocks again, and finally Scully opens the door.  Her hair is wet and she’s already in her pajamas.  He doesn’t blame her.  Neither of them got much sleep last night in the woods.  He holds up a bottle of wine he had to buy at the ABC store and a tray of cheese from the deli of the grocery store a few blocks away.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

She steps back and lets him in.  “I believe I recall a reference to some kind of Tailhook crap?”

“That only works the other way,” he says.  “This is apology consorting.”

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Olicity Drabble 5x20~ Needing You

Originally posted by yet-i-remain-quiet

Okay so yeah I wanted more and I wrote it…It’s set during 5x20 and, again I just wanted this aspect explained after the whole flashback sequence that simply left me utterly confused. 

GIF not mine it belongs to @yet-i-remain-quiet 

No beta so I’m sorry the errors. P.S. I’m looking for a beta so….

“Needing You”

The first time she’d fallen asleep over his chest he’d gently nudged her cheek with the tip of his thumb until she quietly stirred. The second time he traced the line of her jaw with the back of his fingers until she let out a sleepy yawn. This time when her sleepy eyes dared to part she felt his fingers trailing down the back of her head until they’d settled over the nape of her exposed neck.

Felicity growled comfortably, her shoulders ached, her skin smelled of dust, dirt, and oddly enough smoke and, her body felt utterly wrecked from the day’s events. Her voice actually cracked when her low growls finally formed tangible words, “I think I prefer the back of your fingers…”

His voice seemed to trail over her skin like a soothing balm while he gently stroked his fingers along the nape of her weary neck, “I’ll make a note of that for next time,” he teased with an ease they hadn’t shared in months.

Her soft lips became tangled in the folds of his white tee-shirt as she smiled gently along his covered chest, “I can lift my head if I’m hurting you…” she offered in concern since his voice felt tight as the vibrations rattled across her skin.

“Or you could simply share the bed,” he offered when she attempted to stifle another yawn.

Laughing she nudged her nose along his sternum and, huffed out a tired decline. “No, I should go home and, seek comfort in the freshly cleaned linens of my soft bed.”

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puppy knuckles (pt 2)

summary: “do an eddie and richie meeting in college au fic!” thanks, anon

click here for part 1



the following week, miranda let both of the boys have a night shift. she joked about the intense competition the two might have, the best couple of workers in the same shop, but tonight was their monthly poetry slam night, and it might be just as packed as the night eddie began working. she graciously let them have the morning off, too. eddie thought he would be able to slip back in routine of sleeping in a little late, but his mother called him that morning at exactly 7:00 AM - ironic, the same time his shift would begin - to wish him a good day at work, and he couldn’t get back to sleep then.

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