#Also I would HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend wearing headphones when listening to this this is NOT family friendly audio

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: There's also a button to toggle, so in case you're talking to people in English, you can toggle it.

Slimecicle: I'm never gonna speak to anyone in English again

[...]

Slimecicle: I feel like a baby that has learned how to speak! Bababa, bababah.

Fit & Maximus: Baba, baba, baba, baba, babah -

Slimecicle: I like that we've gotten a thing to translate all languages, and now we speak none.

[notablytrustableindividual]

Band Rants #2 - Far Caspian

Sorry for the delay for the 0.63 people who care, the last week has been not great, and I've been barely holding on. As I write this, it is 2:53 am on a Saturday, and I'm drinking tap water out of a Nicholas Cage mug in the dark.

Anyways, back to music.

There were several bands in somewhat similar styles I almost wrote about instead. Slaughter Beach, Dog and their transformation from Midwest Emo to Indie Rock to Folk (The reverse Wilco, as I like to call it) or Peach Pit, who did something similar with an odd yet fun discography. In a more pop vein, I also considered Rotel Otis, who I started listening to when they were on the Fresh Finds playlist, and whose ability to pump out fun single after fun single confuses me to this day.

But instead I settled on Far Caspian, a band that is a bit harder to pin down. So what is Far Caspian, and why should you care about them?

First, Far Caspian is an Indie Rock/Pop Project led by Irish multi instrumentalist Joel Johnston, who has released 3 Eps, and a full length Album. Their first Ep, Between Days, cane out in 2018. The Heights followed in 2019, and their first full length Album, Ways To Get Out, dropped in 2021.

I am not mincing words when I say Far Caspian is some of the most relaxing, aesthetically pleasing music I've ever heard. Listening Between Days feels like lying on top of a ridge and staring out, relaxed. It's music that makes everything feel fine, even when it's not.

Of course, I will admit some bias in this. Far Caspian has been comfort music for me for years now. I used to sit in the library of my school during lunch, surrounded by ornate carved bookshelves and wearing a beat to shit pair of headphones, rushing through my 5th period AP Euro homework as Far Caspian played, keeping me from panicking even more. The example of me laying on a ridgeline isn't just metaphor either. I've done it before (I highly recommend it, it's very relaxing)

While the 2018 EP is mostly acoustic, 2019's The Heights branches out a bit. Some synth and piano show up, adding some variety to the instrumentals. Each song on The Heights also feels just that little bit more unique. Of course, I'm biased in this matter. The slightly faster guitar and simple drum line if Conversations lives rent free in my head.

(I can effortlessly sing along to it by the way, it's my second most played song of all time)

Yes, I'm aware this is a bit cursed.

Either way, the Heights contains some of the best sounding guitar lines I've ever heard. It's just unfathomably relaxing to me. Of course, the lyrics and drums are also pretty good. When talking lyrics, I would be stupid to not mention A Dream Of You. (You should listen)(please?)

This song is Far Caspian's most popular, and it earns it. The lyrics live rent free in my head, expressing longing for someone else's presence beautifully. The slow, calm guitars and passive drumline even have a little beat drop in the instrumental breakdown towards the end. It is probably one of my favorite beat drops ever. Even with its slow pace, the song has this way of sucking you in. I enjoy it quite a lot. The melody holds a special place in my heart.

In 2021, Far Caspian released their first full length Album, and it was quite a pivot. It's atmospheric and plodding. The music is still gorgeously composed, but there's a very prevalent sadness throughout. If you've listened to the previous songs I'd recommended listening to and enjoyed them, I can't guarantee you'll enjoy the album as well.

Of course, the album has its high points. For me, the most standout tracks were right at the start and end. House is by far one of the most complex songs Far Caspian has ever made. It starts out with a simpke guitar riff, and builds, until its soothing saxophone, combined with its other myriad instruments make the songs climax just transcendent for me.

Of course, they have one more Ep which came out a few days before I wrote all this. Its similar to the 2021 release in a lot of ways. That being said, the closer on the 4 song ep, Arbitrary Task, just sucks me into a trance. It's noisy, strumming guitars, combined with an omnipresent drum line, whittles at the senses a bit, until the comparative quiet of the bridge snaps you back to reality.

Of course, like every band, they also have a large catalouge of singles.

I'd recommend the alternate version of Conversations (Shocking, I know) and Holding On, which is thier first ever song.

Overall, Far Caspian is a band that can be both gentle, and calming, as well as rough andmelancholic. Whatever sound they have though, they are always heartfelt. They remind me of Turnover and Real Estate in a lot of ways. To quote someone else's review of Real Estate, "This is a band fotlr those who can chill to the max"

Between Days (2018) - 8.4/10

The Heights (2019) - 9.3/10

Ways to Get Out (2021) - 6.5/10

Pet Architect (2023) - 5.5/10

[blackhcless]

Summer is Here - Chapter 1

Here we go. A little something I'm cooking up for y'all, inspired by @unapprovedtrash who put this idea in my head. I ran with it.

Few notes: one, as I've mentioned, this idea was completely inspired by @unapprovedtrash. I really appreciate the inspiration to write again, and hope you enjoy this :)

Secondly, the fic is named after a great song called "Summer is Here" by Acid Ghost. I highly recommend you check it out, I think it fits the vibe of the beginnings of summer quite well.

Please do enjoy the fic! If you prefer to read this on AO3, do click the link below.

Read on AO3

The rest of the fic is under the cut :)

Dylan didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his whole life. This was probably the most uncomfortable he’s ever felt, too—crammed in a car with 6 other people all going to the very same place: Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. They were all going to be counselors for the next 2 months, sleeping in cabins with snotty children and supervising them for the course of the summer.

Was this a particularly ideal summer for Dylan? Absolutely not. He’d rather be playing video games and planning things out for school in the fall. But he needed some extra pocket money, and he despised his old job, so why not? His mom was always saying he needed to go out and socialize more. So here ya go, Mom, he thought.

He was brought away from his thoughts when the car sped through a pothole, sending his heart to his stomach and a yelp from his mouth in fright. Immediately afterward, he shrunk into himself, embarrassed from the noise he’d let out. It didn’t seem that anyone noticed or even cared, but still, he couldn’t help but let out a meek “Sorry!”

Now that he wasn’t aimlessly scrolling through his phone with his thoughts in another universe, he took a good look at the rest of the counselors in the car with him. They all looked around his age. Something that didn’t really make too much sense, because what was the probability of that happening? But, at least that’d make them easier to talk to, instead of talking to whole ass adults who didn’t care less about things he had to say. Then again, he wasn’t sure that anyone would care about what came out of his mouth here, either, which is why he hadn’t said much on the car ride so far.

His eyes first landed on the guy in the front passenger seat. Seated there was a built teen wearing a t-shirt that defined his sculpted body quite well. From the back of the car, he couldn’t see too much, but he knew that damn, that guy was jacked. Atop his head, he adorned a backwards baseball cap, as well, which indicated to Dylan that he was the sporty type.

Not exactly my type, he thought, but pretty nice to look at.

After that, he looked to the second row of people—a girl with brown hair who also coincidentally was giving a less-than-innocent glance over to the jock, too; a girl with black-to-pink ombre hair; and lastly, a curly-haired brunette wearing a baseball tee. The two girls seemed to be showing each other things on their phones, too, but it didn’t seem that they even acknowledged the guy beside them, who kept his eyes on the scenery outside.

Then, there was the back row—the row Dylan was also on. Next to him sat a girl with a yellow, cropped hoodie and a shirt beneath it. She was lazily scrolling through something on her phone, seemingly uncaring of the world around her, which drew Dylan to her. She seemed like someone cool, maybe. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to bother her. Next to her sat a boy who was also glancing out of the window. He had headphones in, and Dylan was curious to know what he was listening to. With a clear view of the boy’s face, he could see he was good-looking—someone he definitely wouldn’t mind getting to know, if you could catch his drift. He probably spent too much time looking at the boy, but luckily he wasn’t caught staring. Dylan drifted his gaze away upon realization and went back to his phone.

He’d kept his headphones in, but he’d had his music paused for a small while now. Other than the two girls in the second row who were every once in a while giggling, the car was incredibly silent, with everyone minding their own business and all. Dylan decided it’d be best for him to turn on some music, since it didn’t seem they’d be making acquaintances anytime soon. He tapped on the Spotify app icon, which took a moment to load. Damn shitty service, he thought. Luckily for him, he had a shit ton of playlists saved. He looked around for a moment, then decided on a playlist—“dylan’s awesome tunes,” a playlist with a bunch of his favorites. Pressing play, he grinned to himself.

Fittingly, a song titled Summer Is Here started to play. The sound of electric guitar in his ears filled the silence between the counselors, and with that he was in his own world. It was his turn to shift his gaze out into the wilderness. The sun was in the middle of the sky at this point—it was around noon—which meant a rich green view rushing by. It really was a beautiful sight, just as his mom had been saying it would be. Being from the suburbs, it was kind of a relief to see the stunning greenery that upstate New York had to offer.

Maybe this won’t be so bad, Dylan thought. Maybe it’ll be… fun.

----

It had taken a couple of hours for the counselors to get to their destination, but finally, they had. Because Dylan was in the back seat, he had to wait for every other person to get out, but once he had escaped the uncomfortable leather seats of the car, he shook his arms and legs out. The feeling of pins and needles trickled through his legs. Silently, he shuddered. The two-hour long silence was finally broken by Mr. Hackett, who had generously driven them all there and was now organizing the 7 teens’ arrival.

“Alrighty, Hacketteers! I know we have got quite the summer ahead of us. I can’t thank you enough for being here this summer to watch over the kids. It is you counselors that make this camp an enjoyable place to be. Thank you.”

A couple cheers from the good-looking kid and the brunette girl erupted. It was sad, really, how little excitement came from the other counselors.

“With that being said… our first order of business before the campers get here tonight is your phones,” Mr. Hackett began, glancing around the group for just a moment, “Please turn your phones off and hand them to me. I’ll be keeping them safe this summer.”

Instead of cheers, the group now replied with groans. Dylan had to join in himself, too. No phones meant no music, for 2 months. One of the very things that he’d planned on keeping himself sane with. What was he to do, now? A spike of anxiety hit him, adding to the previous bouts he’d had as they’d approached the camp. He swallowed spit and kept quiet. There was likely nothing he could do, so he wouldn’t fight it.

Making sure to disconnect his headphones from his phone, he said a mental goodbye to his phone as Mr. Hackett came around the group to collect them all. As the camp leader stopped in front of him, he handed the phone over quite easily, then put the headphones in his pocket.

“Not so fast…” Mr. Hackett paused, waiting for Dylan to respond with his name.

“Dylan,” he responded coolly.

“… Dylan. If you don’t have your phone this summer, you’re not going to need your headphones. You can give those to me for safe keepings.”

Dylan let out a small groan involuntarily. Out of fear that he’d get in trouble for the disrespect, he quickly attempted to even it out with some sort of joke.

“Yeah, alright,” He said, trying to contain his nerves, “But if they aren’t in one piece by the time we’re outta here, I’ll be contacting my lawyers. They’re very powerful people, you know.”

A couple of laughs could be heard from the other counselors. A small surge of happiness came from within him at the sentiment of people liking his sarcasm. Hmm. He handed the headphones over with no additional trouble, a cheeky grin on his face while he did so.

“I’m sure they are,” Mr. H responded sarcastically, lifting a brow at Dylan disapprovingly. He soon moved onto the next counselor, all the way until he had collected all of their devices and placed them aside. Moments later, his voice was booming through the quiet forest once more.

“Secondly! Unfortunately, two of our counselors—Ms. Laura Kearny and Mr. Max Brinly—could not make it to camp this summer. It seems they may have gotten afraid of spending 2 months in the beautiful New York woods. What does this mean for you? It means more responsibilities than normal, which I assume you won’t have trouble with, because you’re all hard workers who are ready to take this summer by storm?” Mr. Hackett asked, glancing around at the teens. Dylan joined the chorus of 6 other unsynchronized, unenthusiastic yeses, and with that, they moved on.

It took around an hour for Mr. Hackett to show them around the camp, but after that, they had around an hour and a half to unpack their things before they had a small meeting just before the kids showed up at 8 PM. “Get to know each other!” Mr. Hackett had insisted, but Dylan wasn’t incredibly interested in that unless someone came up to him. They’d all walked up to the cabins with their things in relative silence. He couldn’t tell who would be the first to break the ice, but he knew one thing—it wouldn’t be him.

Luckily, he was right. There was a whole lot of silence as each counselor set up their bunks and put their toiletries in the shared bathrooms, but finally, the girl he’d been sitting beside in the car spoke up.

“Oookay, I’m sick of the silence, so why don’t we introduce ourselves? Names, reasons why we’re here, hobbies, anything. I’ll go first,” The girl said, sitting on her bed. A couple other teens also sat, including Dylan. He opted for top bunk, which gave him a pretty good sight of the rest of the room. Maybe they’d forget about him up there, and he could keep quiet the rest of the summer.

“My name’s Kaitlyn… I’m 19, now, and I’m here for a summer job. Used to dance, helped paint sets in high school, the whole fine arts deal. Not exactly sure what I’m gonna do with my life. Maybe camp counseling will be my calling, who knows?” She joked, grinning a little and smacking her hands against her thighs as if to transition to the next person.

“Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn!” Pink-Hair said excitedly, smiling widely.

“Yeah, good to meet you,” Good-Looking echoed.

It was Pink-Hair that decided to go next, so Dylan shifted his gaze to her.

“I’m Abigail! You all can call me Abi, though,” Abigail started, practically beaming, “I used to be a camper here and always loved the counselors that were here then, so I came back for the summer! I like to draw, and I love animals! I’m really excited to create memories for the kids.”

Some more “Nice to meet you”s followed, and it seemed it was Abi’s friend’s turn. Her name was Emma, she had also been a camper, and Abi and her were “besties,” supposedly. She used to play tennis back home and she described herself as “the proud owner of a video blog.” Dylan wasn’t sure why she said “video blog” like they were in 2009 again, but he said nothing on the matter.

After her, an ever-eager Jock-Dude introduced himself as Jacob—Jake for short. He said he used to play football in high school and was going to school on an athletic scholarship, and that he wanted something to do for summer to “keep him in shape.”

Next was the curly-haired boy, named Nick. He had a thick New Zealand accent, which Abi and Emma seemed to be whispering to each other about. Dylan couldn’t deny that the accent was quite charming, either, but he kept it to himself a lot better than the girls. He seemed cool—wasn’t too talkative, but Dylan had no problem with it. Nick explained that he liked to cook and bake, he played a few sports in high school, and that he was excited for camp, too.

It was after Nick that Good-Looking went. He couldn’t help but stay laser-focused on the teen’s words, listening closely to every word he said.

“Uh, so, I’m Ryan… I was a camper here, too. Decided to come back to help Mr. H out. Not really sure what I want to do for college stuff but… Yeah, I’m 19,” Ryan spoke. He didn’t share much, which meant Dylan’s sole goal for the next few days would be to find out as much as he could from the attractive teen. Just the thought made his heart race.

He was so focused on the prospect of talking to Ryan that he’d forgotten where he was for a moment. Jerking his eyes away from the other boy, he swallowed and glanced around the room, who were all looking at him for an introduction. Just… be cool, or whatever, he thought.

“Oh, yeah. I’m Dylan, Dyls, D… whatever you wanna call me,” He began, internally cringing at the nicknames he made for himself, “Uh, I’m going to school for…”

He trailed off. What he wanted to say was that he was going to school for physics, but what he wanted to say and what he needed to say to keep respect from the other teens were two different things. He had to make up something quick—something that was less… nerdy.

“Sorry. Zoned out. So, yeah. Going to school for, uh. Music. Yeah. Gonna become the next fuckin, like, Elton John or something.” Elton John? Dylan didn’t even listen to that much 70s. His freaking dad did. He really hoped no one delved more into that topic. As if the stars were listening, no one did. They all just nodded. Kaitlyn, though, spoke up.

“Pretty cool stuff. What kind of music do you make?” She questioned, leaning her head upward to look at Dylan.

“Oh, y’know. Indie stuff, I guess. Sooo wish I could show you, but… no phones. Bummer,” Dylan said, trying to coat the sarcasm in his voice. Even though he was straight up lying, someone had taken interest in this… this alternate kind of Dylan. The thought of that was interesting to consider. Maybe being cool wouldn’t be so hard.

“I’d love to hear it another time, though,” Kaitlyn grinned, nodding before looking around at the rest of the group. More silence, until Kaitlyn once more took charge and suggested they all go on a small walk around the camp to further get acquainted with the woods and each other. It was a pretty unanimous decision to go through with the idea, so within minutes they were all walking in loose groups, introducing themselves personally to each other as they walked to the firepit. Ryan sagged behind, so Dylan fell in step with him after half-assedly trying to keep small talk with the others.

Ryan noticed Dylan’s presence pretty quickly, silently looking over to acknowledge him.

“Sooo, Ryan, right?” Dylan asked, tilting his head in question.

“Yeah.”

“Well, heyyy, I’m Dylan, in case you don’t remember five minutes ago,” He quipped, chuckling nervously.

“I do, but I appreciate the concern,” Ryan said, not maintaining much eye contact. There was little to go off of to determine if he was joking or not, but Dylan tried his best to not let the conversation stall, wanting to make a positive first impression.

“Yeah, yeah. Anything for a friend,” He said confidently, plastering a smile on his face before holding out his hand to shake. Who was he? Some business major weirdo? Still, he didn’t put his hand down. He had to follow through with it, otherwise he’d make a fool of himself. Luckily, Ryan took the handshake, but rose a brow as he did.

“Are… we friends? We met like, 5 minutes go,” Ryan asked. Dylan stalled for a second, a bit surprised by the reply, before speaking again.

“Jeez,” He responded, putting a hand to his heart, “I’m kind of offended. How dare you not consider me a friend after one single interaction with me?” Sarcasm dripped in his voice, and it was apparent he was joking.

“Um…” Is all Ryan said, seemingly unsure of what to say.

With that, their interaction was over. Dylan was pretty bummed that it was so short, but he supposed he had 2 whole months to get to know the attractive male.

They arrived at the firepit within a few minutes. Their time there had mostly been spent getting to know each other more. Almost everyone was engaged in the conversation—even himself, occasionally—but there Ryan was, 5 or so feet away, in his own little world.

I will get to know you, Hot, Mysterious Ryan, Dylan thought.

----

Soon, the time had come to learn each of their roles at the camp for the summer. They’d walked from the Firepit back over the Lodge, where Mr. Hackett waited for them patiently. Because there were less counselors than planned, they’d all have to pick up slack, which meant, according to Mr. Hackett, that they all might need to “jump out of their comfort zones.” The thought made Dylan nervous. He tried not to show it.

At the pre-camp meeting, they all learned their occupations. Kaitlyn would be the Activities Coordinator; Abi would be an art teacher of sorts; Emma would head Theatre; Jacob would head Sports; Nick would be the Kitchen Supervisor, in charge of feeding the kids; Ryan would be a Sailing Coach; lastly, Dylan would be in charge of scheduling and announcements in the morning. For Dylan, that meant working in the Radio Hut, which was close to the cabins. It would also mean early mornings, which he wasn’t excited for.

After being informed of their roles and how to perform them, Mr. H confirmed the incoming arrival of the camp kids. They’d be arriving in just fifteen minutes. Most everyone showed their excitement, but Dylan was trying his best to remain grounded. Surrounded by new people, new experiences, and his own thoughts, he was beginning to get overwhelmed. Silently, he excused himself to use the bathroom, slipping away quickly after being granted permission.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror, trying to give some sort of mental pep talk. He slowed his breathing and kept it rhythmic, keeping his eyes locked on the mirror. You can do this, Lenivy, he told himself.

He wasn’t sure if he believed it.

[la-undercover-latina]

Private Parts

A/N: The idea for this came when I was listening to the song by Halestorm with the singer of Sixx A.M with the same name. I highly recommend listening to it while you read this.

Also I do NOT own the gifs. Tumblr was not letting me use the second gif, so I had to finagle with it. No copyright intended

TW: mentions of death and panic

Taglist: @youlightmeupfinn

“Yes, we have a show in LA in a few weeks, so I’ll make sure to come see you and Pop,”

“Make sure to bring that boyfriend of yours with. He’s such a nice boy,” Her grandmother smiled. Her granddaughter finally brought home a man that she approved of. 

Yes, he was rocking the long hair that she remembered on her son, but it was in style. What she cared more about was how he treated Amber. And he treated her like a queen. 

So she completely approved of him. Especially with a question over a phone call they had about a week ago. 

That was before everything came to a screeching halt.

What was once a chill afternoon in the tour bus turned into the worst day of Amber Lee’s life. All with one phone call. It only took that one phone call to break her. It was a call she knew she’d get one day, and she had been trying to mentally prepare for it, but there was no way she’d actually be ready for it. 

Her grandma was gone.

She was in the tour bus with Ella when she got the call from her dad.

“Hey dad,” she answered, stopping herself from laughing at a joke that Ella told her.

“Princess, are you sitting down?” Tommy asked, barely holding the tears back. He couldn’t believe it himself when his dad called him in tears, and now he had to be the one to tell his not so little girl that one of her favorite people on the Earth was gone.

“Yeah dad. What’s wrong?” All of the alarms in Amber’s head went off and her expression transformed.

“I’m sorry to not be able to tell you in person baby girl. Yaya passed away last night,” he wiped his eyes. He could feel his heart breaking. 

Out of all three of his kids, Amber was the closest to his parents, as to be expected. During his divorce with Heather, they had agreed to let Tommy’s parents take over his custody when he was on tour. As she got older, however, she would go on small bits of the tour, after she really expressed that she wanted to be in the music business. But there was so much time that she spent with them that her younger brothers just didn’t.

“No. Dad, you can’t be serious. I just talked to her and Pop last night. I’m supposed to go see them with Andy next week when we have an LA show,” Amber’s eyes flowed with tears freely.

“What’s going on?” Ella asked, her joking manner long gone as she walked to Amber and pulled her into a tight hug, seeing that her best friend/cousin was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“She’s gone. M-M-My grandma,” she cried, the phone slipping from her fingers and landing on the couch.

“Hey uncle Tommy. I’ve got Amber. Take care of yourself,” Ella grabbed Amber’s phone from the couch.

“Okay. Thanks Ella. I’m glad you’re with her,” At least she wasn’t alone through this. Not that he worried about her doing something stupid, short of alcohol poisoning.

“I c-can’t play tonight,” Amber squeaked and squeezed her best friend as tight as she could.

This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Once I wake up, everything will go back to normal. Her hearing went fuzzy. It sounded like she was wearing noise cancelling headphones.

“I’ll text Rebecca and Andy,” Rebecca was their tour manager. Amber had mentioned earlier that she and Andy were going to go out tonight.

Both texts came back almost immediately.

‘How bad is she? Tell her to take whatever time she needs and I’ll book her the first flight back to LA if she’s up for flying,’ Rebecca texted. 

Everyone knew how close Amber was with her family. She always brought her family out for shows, trying to go for more milder ones for her grandparents. The closer knit venues were their favorites. Because the band got to be closer to their audience and really let their personalities shine.

‘I’ll be there in a sec. Can you stay with her until I get there?’ Andy texted. Ella sighed and rubbed Amber’s back. They both knew she shouldn’t be left alone right now.

‘Yeah. We’re the only ones on the bus.’ Right after Ella pressed send, the door to the bus flung open and the 6’4 front man entered their bus.

“Amber, Andy’s here,” Ella spoke gently, while gently handing her to Andy, whose arms circled around her and squeezed tightly.

“I’m right here Princess,” he spoke in her ear and tightened his hold even more. He looked to her cousin and mouthed “Thank you”. She nodded before heading towards the back of the bus. She typed out a quick text to the other bandmates, telling them what happened, fighting tears the entire time. But after a few minutes, she just let the tears flow down her tanned cheeks.

‘I think we should take at least a week off from anything. We need to be there for Amber,’ Ella sent to Rebecca. And her next text was to her parents.

‘Hey so Amber just got a call from Uncle Tommy that her grandma died. I’m trying to see if we can all take a week off and just be there for her. Can you guys keep an eye on Uncle Tommy? I don’t think he should be alone either,’ It was no secret that Tommy adored his family, and was a huge mama’s boy.

‘Your mom already went to get him sweetie. We’ve got uncle Tommy. Just keep an eye on Amber. But how are you holding up? I know you loved her too sweetheart,’ Nikki texted back.

‘I’ll manage. First we’ve gotta get back home, and then we’ll take care of picking up the pieces,’

Meanwhile towards the front of the bus, Andy had locked the door and Amber was barely able to breath.

“I-I-I just talked to h-her y-y-yesterday,” she sobbed. She felt like someone had just punched through her chest and ripped her heart out. 

The best grandmother in the world was ripped away from her. 

Memories of making traditional Greek food in her kitchen, teaching her how to do Sirtaki and her telling her about the Greek Gods flashed in front of her eyes. She’d never get to hug her again and the smell of her cooking would never wrap around her like an embrace ever again. 

The dream of her grandmother being there for her future wedding would never come true.

“I’m right here baby, just let me in,” Andy rocked her back and forth.

“She was always there. She was the only one I knew that I could call no matter the time and she’d answer or call back immediately,” Amber was shutting down. Andy knew it. Hell, she knew it.

She was shutting down. She had a habit of taking her feelings and bottling them up until one day the powder keg got lit by the most tiny spark.

Ella came out from the back of the bus. She approached her cousin, placing her hand on her arm and gently squeezing.

“Rebecca has tickets to LA pulled up on her phone. All you have to do is say the word and we’ll be on the first flight back home,” she told her softly, rubbing her arm. Ella began to try and hold back tears again, but a few slipped through the cracks.

She only had her maternal grandparents. With her dad’s shitty relationship with his birth mom and his dad bailed, Ella grew up regarding Uncle Tommy’s parents as a secondary set of grandparents.

“We need to go. Can you come with us?” Amber asked, her watery dark eyes moving to her boyfriend who cupped her face with his large hands.

“Of course. I’ll just need a few minutes to go grab my stuff. And then we can go straight to the airport,”

Within an hour, they were in an SUV on their way to the airport. Ella already texted her parents to give them the update, and her mom responded immediately that her and Nikki would pick the trio up at the airport.

“Get some rest,” Andy whispered, running his hands through her hair. Her eyes closed as she rested her head on Andy’s shoulder.

Everything else was a blur for the woman. The next thing she knew, they were in the air, and then landing at LAX.

“Remember the buddy system from when we were kids? Let’s do it,” Ella told Amber. With how she was, they couldn’t risk losing her in one of the biggest airports in the world.

Ella led the group to the pickup area. Luckily, they didn’t pack much, only the essentials, so they were able to skip baggage claim and go straight to where Nikki and Taylor waited for them. 

With Nikki’s height, he saw the group approaching first. To be fair, Andy’s height was a dead giveaway.

“Here they come,” he whispered to his wife. His heart broke for his niece and best friend. 

“Fuck this,” Taylor grumbled as she pushed through the people, needing to get to her babies. Even though she wasn’t Amber’s mom, she had a huge hand in raising her when she wasn’t with Heather, and always treated her as one of her own. 

And now, she knew Amber needed what could only be described as a mom hug. A hug that reassured you that everything would be alright. 

That you were safe. 

That even if the world around you was crumbling, there was at least one place of solace and protection. 

Nikki joined his wife, reaching the group just before she did thanks to his longer stride. He pulled the group of three into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to each woman’s heads. Taylor looked to Andy, giving him a hug as well.

“Thank you. I know you’re on Warped tour too. It means a lot that you’d be there for them during this,” While Andy was dating Amber, he and Ella had grown pretty close over the last almost 2 years. Nikki and Taylor switched, and Nikki clapped Andy on the back.

“Thank you. For being there. It means a hell of a lot. And my answer is yes,” Andy’s eyes bugged out.

“Tommy told me. He was so excited, he called me right away,” Nikki chuckled. Taylor always joked that if they hadn’t met, he would probably be married to his best friend.

Tommy sure as hell wouldn’t keep this a secret from her godfather.

“I approve of you asking Amber to marry you,” He whispered. He was pretty sure Amber wouldn’t hear him, but he wasn’t going to be the one to spoil this.

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

       ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

       ❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist  This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

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‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. ��The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

[lostinfantasyworlds]

Playlist for Everything

READ “EVERYTHING” ON AO3

This post is going to be extra af, but I am really inspired by music and am so in love with how perfectly some of these songs fit in with feeling of this story. I just want to yell loudly about how much I love some of these songs 😂

Here’s the link to the playlist (YouTube)

Below the cut  = more details and some highlights of the lyrics for each song!

TL;DR: If I had to narrow it down to only a few songs that really capture the essence of the story, they would be (in order of importance):

1. Unfold by Alina Baraz and Galimatias 2. Lights Out by Ayelle and Sonn 3. Strange by Kris Bowers feat Hilary Smith 4. I Miss You by Adele 5. The Bitter Suite III: Embrace by The Dear Hunter

1. The Bitter Suite III: Embrace by The Dear Hunter

Darkness Hesitation I fell into her arms Breathe in, this is amazing Breathe out, this is amazing She removed her clothes and all of the world shined Now that we're alone, all of the world shines First hot breath, then cold hands Intrusion, but aware The fire inside was alight, and she bloomed I never knew life could ever be this good The distant sighs, the clothes on the floor The bedding a mess, she sings for more We fall beneath the sea in the back of our hearts, And fail to breathe until we resurface again.

So I’m just in love with this band. They have a series of albums (Act I - V) that tell a story throughout all of the songs (they are AMAZING and I highly recommend). In this song, the main character loses his virginity to a woman he later falls in love with, and I just thought this song perfectly captures the overall experience really well. Plus, the bass riff that starts around the 5 minute mark is absolutely beautiful/emotional in a way that I can’t quite explain. 

2. Come Here by Sabrina Claudio 

I'm dying to see you You know what I'm fiending for The only one to get to me Only one to get this close So I want you to come here I want you to come here I just need you near

This one is more about the sensual vibe of the music, but the lyrics are also pretty fitting.

3. Speechless by Beyonce

Goin' out my head I think I'm losin' all my mind (all my mind) Drive me crazy burning candles, makin' love all night (all night) Feels so strange, it feels so crazy to be in your world (in your world) In your arms lost for words, you got me (you got me) Speechless

This one is pretty obvious when you listen to it hahaha

4. Unfold by Alina Baraz and Galimatias

Cover my thoughts in gold I'm your flower, watch me unfold My vulnerability, letting you consume me The parts of me that eyes can't see The glowing underneath Picking off the petals I'll let you if you're gentle This kind of love we can't control The art of touch, I am covered in gold I know that you feel me now No I'm never going down The parts of me buried underneath The glowing, don’t you see? I know that you feel me now

This is one of the songs I am OBSESSED WITH, especially in relation to this story. Such beautiful lyrics and just a beautiful song in general with that perfectly slow, sexy/sensual vibe.

5. I Miss You by Adele

I want every single piece of you I want your heaven and your oceans too Treat me soft but touch me cruel I wanna teach you things you never knew, baby Bring the floor up to my knees Let me fall into your gravity Then kiss me back to life to see Your body standing over me I love the way your body moves Towards me from across the room Brushing past my every groove No one has me like you do, baby Bring your heart, I'll bring my soul But be delicate with my ego I wanna step into your great unknown With you and me setting the tone

I’ve always loved this song and how sexy/emotional it is. The beat (especially around the 30 second mark when it really starts) is ON POINT.

6. Until It Hurts by Fransisca Hall

Undress these beautiful lies Blind me with animal eyes Carve your heart into mine Carve your heart into mine Brush me with venomous lips Tear me to passionate strips Stir up the beast inside Stir up the beast inside Take me for all I'm worth Touch me until it hurts

7. The End by JPOLND

Keep your breath on me And keep keep keep going 'Til my body is free Keep your eyes on me And keep keep keep going 'Til I'm the last thing you see Keep your touch on my skin And keep keep keep going Keep keep keep going...

8. Show Me by Alina Baraz and Galimatias

Rising like the smoke You linger on me You got me so high I can finally breathe You're walking poetry It's what you do to me It's what you do to me Touch me with no hands Hold me with your eyes Unwind me with your mind tonight Speak with no words Show me and I'm all yours

ANOTHER PERFECTLY FITTING SONG. The beat/sexy vibe + lyrics UGH.

9. Strange by Kris Bowers feat Hilary Smith

This is an instrumental track from the Bridgerton soundtrack that played when the main couple makes love for the first time. I just thought it was SO beautiful. One of those pieces that really makes you feel something without needing any words. I envisioned this to be playing during either the “everything” scene where he touches her face, or when they actually finally start making love. P.S. This is a cover of Strange by Celeste, which is also just as beautiful but the lyrics don’t really fit for the situation. Highly recommend checking it out though!

10. Vulnerable (David Luxe remix) by Tinashe

Once upon a time I was all alone How you like me now? Do I turn you on? Now I got you drunk, hot, and vulnerable Show me what you want, give me what you want, want Have to make you mine, get you on the floor Yeah, watch me go to work, I’ll put on a show

This is for when things start really heating up lol. It’s more about the sexy beat/vibe, but the lyrics are relatively fitting too. I like the original too, but this remix gets rid of the rap part which isn’t as appropriate for this use, plus I like the beat a bit better in the remix.

11. One in a Million by Aaliyah

So, no one else love me like you do That's why I don't mind to spend my life with you (with you) I want to please you in any way I can I want to share my world, don't you understand? Your love is one in a million It goes on and on and on You give me a really good feeling, all day long

Just kind of continuing the sexy vibe here, but the lyrics fit really well too.

12. Made to Love by John Legend

Oh I've never loved, I've never loved Never loved someone like this All-I-know is... I was sent here for you We were made to love We were made to love You were sent for me too We were made to love We were made to love

Again, needed a few songs that were a little faster for the sexier parts haha. The lyrics on this one are also pretty beautiful too.

13. Lights Out by Ayelle and Sonn

Talk about the way you wanna be You don't ever hesitate to say how All you wanna do is to be with me Taking it all in I wanna be with you 'til the sun rises In your eyes, in your eyes, in your eyes I wanna paint the moon with your eyelashes Paint the night, paint the night, paint the night Lights out

THIS ONE MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE ON THE WHOLE PLAYLIST (along with Unfold). This song is not only slow and sensual but the lyrics are BEAUTIFUL. I put it towards to the end because I think of it as when they’re coming down after and cuddling. Just imagine them looking into each other’s eyes being super in love. WARNING: If you are wearing headphones, there is a realistic knocking sound throughout the song that can be kind of alarming lol

14. I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing (piano version) by Aerosmith

Don't want to close my eyes I don't want to fall asleep 'Cause I'd miss you, babe And I don't want to miss a thing

Ok so...I’m partial to this song because the full version is what my husband and I had our first dance to at our wedding. So this song will always give me major feels. BUT I included this special piano version specifically, because just like Strange, it evokes a certain beautiful feeling of romance without needing the extra words. Just to wrap up the end with that warm fuzzy feeling of love

If anyone actually read this.....THANK YOU. It really means a lot to me ❤️

[blerdstatic]

Microsoft Surface Headphones Review: 1st vs 2nd gen, and why they're great to Work-from-Home or anywhere.

So you're on the market for some new gear, and in your search you stumbled upon Microsoft's Surface Headphones, but you're not ready to make the plunge until you get some more research under your belt, right?

I don't blame you. The right head candy can be an expense these days, but hopefully this short and concise review can help!

Let me start by acknowledging that sound and music are more personal in nature, and everyone has their natural preferences. I happen to dig all kinds of music from musical soundtracks and trap to neo-soul and hip-hop. That aside...

Let's begin!

How much do Microsoft Surface Headphones cost?

Surface Headphones (1st gen) - $139.89 on Amazon

Surface Headphones 2 (2nd gen) - $250 from Microsoft Store

What's the difference between them visually?

To be honest, not much has visually changed at first glance. The design was pretty slick the first time around, and was well received. Even as I rode the subway or walked through the aisles of the grocery store, you could tell people admired the unique modern look. It's simple and clean just like the original.

The first gen headphones are grey/off-white while the second gen are charcoal black. They are beautiful shades, however it does make me wish for more colors. It would kind of be a good look if Microsoft offered four more colors that matched the colors of their logo (red, yellow, blue, green). But, I understand the safer play as opposed to going bold.

So what are some key differences that stood out?

Buttons: The 1st gen headphones had buttons that were almost flush with the cup, which was annoying. There were plenty times where I had to search frantically for the power button. The second gen fixes that by making the buttons pronounced.

Ear-cup Size: The size/diameter of the 2nd gen earcups are definitely larger, which is welcome because I have Will Smith ears. But not only that, it makes for an over all cozier feel.

Earcup Swivel: The Surface Headphones 2 earcups can spin around almost 360, which is great because I have more ability to wear them comfortably around my neck! I'm glad they fixed it this time around.

Multi-Bluetooth Connection: I was easily able to set up multi-bluetooth connections to my various devices, including the Android Pixel4a and Pro7. It was amazing to listen to music or video on my phone, then continue right where I left off on the Pro7.

Grease: One other thing to note...don't touch the black Surface Headphones with greasy hands, it shows much more than if you did with the white 1st gens. That's a user issue though, not a hardware one.

How do they feel once you pick them up?

Without a doubt, the difference is night and day. The 2nd gen headphones are more weighty, and for me that's a great thing. I honestly don't like my hardware/electronics to feel too light, because it makes me think there's not much going on inside to produce a quality experience.

Once I picked up the Surface Headphones 2, then picked up the Surface Headphones (1st gen), I was properly excited to listen. The extra weight provided a sense of anticipation that there would be more UMPH, in terms of low, mids, highs and bass tones.

Setup Time?

It took literally less than 5 minutes to open and pair the headphones to begin listening to music. It was quick, easy, and intuitive for me. I enabled blue-tooth on my phone, then powered on the headphones. Found the name of the headphones from my phone's blue-tooth list, and followed the onscreen/audio instructions, and boom I was setup.

Now if it's someone older or unfamiliar with blue-tooth devices, they might need some help going into their blue-tooth settings, etc.

What about the Sound?

I preferred the sound of the Surface Headphones 2 over the 1st gen. During my test I played all kinds of music at a 95% volume (almost on max...yes mom, I know it's not good for my ears).

One of my main gripes on Surface Headphones (1st gen) was that on higher volumes, and listening to music with more bass, it started to sound like 'rattling', as if the headphones could not handle the true sound.

The Surface Headphones 2 fixed that issue completely. I listened to all sorts of bass heavy music and not a single time did I hear rattling.

The treble is also more solid this time around, and truly shines when listening to slower soundtrack or classical music.

I would say that I'm highly satisfied with the sound on both fronts. And if you're curious here are some of the songs I listened to on both Surface 1st gen and Surface 2nd gen.

And here's the rest of the list in case you're curious or want some new jams:

Story of OJ - JayZ

Cyberpunk 2077 - Pacific Dreams Radio Playlist

Father Figure - Tobe Nwigwe

Will (Remix) - Joyner Lucas & Will Smith

O-o-h Child - The Five Stairsteps

This Land - from Lion King original album

Black Panther - Ludwig Goransson

Break You Off - The Roots

All the Stars - Kendrick Lamar & SZA

Nothing Without You - Tanerelle

Adonai - Sarkodie

Be Here in the Morning - Joy Denalane

Noise Cancellation and Ambient Amplification:

The noise cancellation is solid. With no music playing and maxed out ambient filter on, I couldn't even hear myself snapping fingers next to my head, or my wife talking to me in her normal voice (which is occasionally kind of loud - no shade).

The noise cancellation was great on SurfaceMulti (1st gen) but it's now even better with the 2nd gen, especially when drowning out annoying sounds when walking outside (such as people, cars, trains).

I also love the ambient amplification feature, that's easy to use by dialing up the level on the left ear cup. I use that regularly if I'm listening to music, but want to also know if someone says something to me directly. Or the other day, when I was in the grocery store and walked up to the cashier to checkout, I didn't have to take the headphones off. I was able to up the ambient amplifier to max, and speak with the cashier. Once I finished, I immediately turned my music and noise cancellation back up. It was pretty seamless.

Charging and Battery Life:

Officially the 1st gen gets 13 hours and the 2nd gen gets 18.5. After a full charge, and then turning on the Surface 2, the voice said I had 17 hours left. I typically only listen in 1 - 3 hour spurts at my highest usage, so that pans out to about a whole week almost without needing to recharge.

Overall Verdict:

I'm highly recommending the Surface Headphones 2. For the price point and quality, I feel like the Surface Headphones 2 are your better buy, especially considering how they stack up against similar competitors. I felt like Microsoft paid attention to all the things that actually needed improvement, instead of trying to switch everything up. That impressed me more than anything honestly, how they paid attention to the minute quality of life details. Compared to other headphones I've tried in the same range, excluding the Sony XMs, I'd say these are very well priced and outdo the predecessors as well as the competition. But even compared to Sony XMs, which are prices $100 to $150 more, the sound on the Surface Headphones 2 are definitely comparable. I certainly don't think you'll be saying "I'm really glad I spent that extra $100+ on these Sony XMs".

I would have no problem recommending these to anyone trying to figure out what to spend their next stim check on!

[darling-dontforgetme]

the whole list

I’m sorry that I took so long, and I’m so boring, but here you go!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

 Coffee mugs

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Eww, no to both.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

My mom worked at my elementary school, so I was very much a teacher’s pet.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Plastic cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Pastel or boho

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

I really want to say tv shows, but I’m awful at finishing them. I still need to watch the last few episodes of Apocalypse. Don’t at me. 

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Is it weird if I say my cats? It’s weird, I know. They all have different smells, and it’s comforting to be around them when I’m stressed or upset.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Nothing, literally nothing. I was that kid who always had their nose in a book, so you can imagine how awkward I was in p.e.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich or pancakes

12. name of your favorite playlist?

The only playlist I listen to is my own. I listen to a lot of country, some musicals, and a handful of older songs.

13. lanyard or key ring?

Lanyard

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Gummy bears

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

The Handmaid’s Tale

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Why sit when you can lay down? I usually sit with my legs crossed.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My work pair of tennis shoes

18. ideal weather?

WINTER. All the cold.

19. sleeping position?

On my stomach

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop

21. obsession from childhood?

Books. I read so many books as a kid.

22. role model?

I don’t know. My therapist is pretty cool. Sarah Paulson maybe?

23. strange habits?

I eat soup with a fork. I have to put on my right sock and shoe before I can put on the left. I eat pop tarts upside down.

24. favorite crystal?

I don’t know. Rhodochrosites and amethysts are pretty.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Queen of the Silver Dollar

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Stay inside, lol. I play a lot of animal crossing, try to write sometimes. Read.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Also, stay inside- still playing animal crossing and writing or reading.

28. five songs to describe you?

I honestly have no idea. 

29. best way to bond with you?

Just hang out and talk with me. I like to stay home, or go on simple dates. I love, love, love aquariums.

30. places that you find sacred?

Churches, cemeteries

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

I’m not very confident in myself, so I tend to stick with t-shirts and shorts or leggings.

32. top five favorite vines?

I do not watch vine.

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Sorry or what’s for dinner

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Those lawyer commercials that come on all of the time

35. average time you fall asleep?

Between 11:30 and 2:30

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Probably something with SpongeBob

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea?

Tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Hear me out, what about no lemon?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

These kids started a metal band, and our administrators thought the student body loved it, so they got to perform a lot.

41. last person you texted?

@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Pants pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

Some sort of berry

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Shorts and a t-shirt (wasn’t kidding when I said I only wear shorts and a t-shirt)

47. favorite type of cheese?

American

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

@grilledcheeseandguavajelly says "something unique but sweet but with a lot of depth to it, so like a kiwi or a honeydew or a prickly pear.”

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

Do no harm, but take no shit

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Probably something my sister has said or done

51. current stresses?

So much. I lost my job recently, and there's just a lot going on in my life right now.

52. favorite font?

Can I pick people’s handwriting as my favorite font? I know it’s dumb.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Well, I should use more lotion

54. what did you learn from your first job?

That the whole world is going to expect you to know things without you actually ever being taught those things

55. favorite fairy tale?

The Little Mermaid?

56. favorite tradition?

Getting cake for birthdays because I love cake

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Me, myself, and I

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Writing, caring for others. I don’t know.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

Don’t fuck up

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I don’t really have any anime knowledge

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“You want to tell her that there are between two hundred and four hundred billion stars in the Milky Way, but when you look up, you could only ever see, like, twenty five hundred of them. You are one of the ones that no one can see. She is one of the ones that’s even visible in the city.”

-The Moment by T.C. Anderson

Guys, this is my favorite book. I highly recommend checking it out.

62. seven characters you relate to?

Alice Macray, Maura Isles, Temperance Brennan, Regina Mills, Callie Torres, Olivia Benson, Rachel Stevens

63. five songs that would play in your club?

She’s a Rainbow, Free To Be You and Me, Defying Gravity, Goodbye Earl, Queen of the Silver Dollar.  My club would not be very cool.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz

65. any permanent scars?

I cut the side of my thumb off with a pair of scissors once.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Zinnias, Passion flowers, sunflowers

67. good luck charms?

I don’t know that I have any?

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

GRAPE

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I am so bad at thinking up answers on the spot. I’m sorry I suck at this.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

Any sort of animal pattern

72. worst subject?

Science

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Peanut butter and chocolate on ritz crackers

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

Depends on the type of pain. Headaches- I usually take it pretty soon, but for other things, I tend to wait.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I would assume kindergarten or first grade?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

fries

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Flowers

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

I no longer have a school ID, but that definitely looked better

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies sounds so much better, but I say lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

Console

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Fairy tales

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

I’m going to be single and alone for my entire life 

88. your greatest wish?

To fall in love

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My sister

90. luckiest mistake?

I don’t know

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Fairy lights

93. nicknames?

Kat, Kate, Backpack

94. favorite season?

Winter

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr

96. desktop background?

It’s a sunflower drawing

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Maybe 15-20?

98. favorite historical era?

I don’t know

[quicksportlife-blog]

Cycling To Work Tips The Smart Way…

Cycling to work is a great and easy way for beginner/amateur. Amateur cyclists will find that the regular cycling will build a good base of leg muscles as well as help increase their average speed.

They will also be able to burn more calories and get a great start to the morning, boosting positivity and energy for a greater workflow and performance.

Tip #1 Start With An Easy Route

The first week or two you’ll want to get used to the cycle to work. Pre-plan your route using Google Maps, and if it’s not too far, even try out the route over the weekend so that you know how much time the route will take.

Being active looks great at work! Being late doesn’t.

Tip #2 Track Your Routes!

It’s a great motivation and helps you to create self-improvement or set goals for yourself. See what time, speeds and calories you can hit by downloading a cycling app to track your routes.

I personally use the Road Bike app as it tracks all the stats I need and gives me a nice summary at the end, however, any app that you find works for you is great!

Tip #3 Get Exploring

To keep things interesting, find new routes to make the journey interesting. Maybe instead of going through town, you can go on the outskirts (maybe go through the countryside if at all possible).

The fun thing is that you have almost unlimited scope to the number of route combinations you can find to get to work, and even more if you work in a town or city centre.

Tip #4 Safety Safety Safety

Safety for both yourself and your bicycle is paramount when on the roads. Always wear a helmet! Always… if your insecure about your looks, don’t be.

A helmet can be a lifeline if the unfortunate should happen, and here at Quicksport we and people we know, have had close calls, that if it wasn’t for helmets, we would have been in a lot of trouble.

As well as helmets, it’s good to always build awareness and know your surroundings. I recommend always having one ear without headphones (If you want to listen to music or podcasts) to help keep all senses active and your reactions sharp.

If you don’t have a helmet or need one, we have a great top selection of helmets here.

Another great tip is to lock your bike, not just lazily against a lamp post. Try and find a bike rail near you (or inside if your work allows it); sidenote if your a business owner with employees, try and find a place for your active workers to let them store bikes and other equipment, they’ll appreciate it!

Always put the bike lock through your wheels as well as your bike frame, this will stop anyone taking just the wheels and selling them (because yes there are idiots out there who will take them).

Once again if you need a new lock or don’t have one yet, we have a great selection here

For late finishes and winter times, it’s good to put lights on your bikes. This is essential for being seen, and if you can, try and wear bright or reflective clothing.

Tip #5 Bring Deodorant (Even If It’s For Your Colleagues)

Bringing deodorant is important! Cycling will make you look great but has a side effect of making you smell like a gym locker room.

Do yourself and your colleagues a favour, and take a small deodorant can or roller with you, nothing says an employee of the month, like lavender garden scented underarms (trust me).

Tip #6 Get Social!

As great as it is having your own personal time in the morning and evening commute, bringing friends along with you can add a level of fun!

Show them new routes and show off your rock hard thighs you’ve been working on (both men and women love rock hard thighs).

If you don’t have any friends, I suggest you try and make some! Maybe try and pick out someone you already know who cycles to work, don’t be shy, I’m sure they’d appreciate a buddy.

Tip #7 Bring A Snack

On a personal note, I always take a snack, always… but if you’re planning on a cycle to work, then having a post cycle snack is a great way to refuel and help build muscle.

I would recommend you take small but nutrient-dense foods. Good snacks include but aren’t limited to; Bananas, Apples (maybe some peanut butter with the apple), watery fruits such as melon (to help hydrate) and if you’re looking to define your calves and quads quicker, then a light protein shake can always do the trick.

Tips #8 Have A Decent Bike

Yes they can be expensive, but bikes are like cars, the better they are from the start, the more reliable they will be and the more enjoyable the journey will be.

You don’t want to go to your bike in the morning, only to find the brakes are loose, the handle is off key and the chains are weak and maybe even rusty.

If your planning on cycling to work 3 times or more a week, I’d highly recommend seeing your bike as an investment, bikes can last you around 10 years, as long as you don’t throw them around, make sure you do your best to avoid potholes.

This 10-year lifespan of a bike can be extended with the correct maintenance, as well as replacing parts that may fail i.e bike chains and wheels.

We do have a great selection of top bikes, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t recommend you take a look.

Skip the cheap £100 bikes, they are uncomfortable and don’t last. You and your bike work together, so look after your bike and it’ll look after you!

Top Quicksport Bikes

Tip #9 Bring A Spare Tire Or Puncture Kit

This one is quite simple. The streets can have many objects on them, from glass to loose gravel.

Your tires should be able to handle it most of the time, but occasionally the road may get the better of you. Don’t fear as bike punctures can be easy to fix or replace, as long as you have a small bike pump and tire patches.

If you don’t have a spare tire with you (which is understandable, then make sure you replace it when you get home as the patch is only a short term fix.

Tip #10 Go Out There And Get ‘Em!

This will be all for not if you don’t just do it! Maybe you’re still unsure or nervous to get out there. That’s Ok! It will pay off for you in the long run (or long cycle I guess) as you will notice many benefits in both fitness and mood.

You can go full at it, or build it up over time! The great thing about cycling is that it’s all for you, all the benefits you get from it are for you, you don’t share the hard work you put in with your colleagues and you don’t have to do what your boss says.

This is all about what you want in your 10+ minute ride to and from work. Your effort, your bike, your time, make it yours now.

Go out there and get ‘em!

Help Give Us Support! Want to support British Brands? Don’t hesitate to share this article on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. We want to create a health-driven nation for the children of the future, every share like and comments helps us get closer to our goal! If you’d like to check out our other blogs then click here or to stay updated with new content and sign up for our newsletter! We’ll always try and give you the articles you’ll find most interesting.

[kyn19]

1 THROUGH 98! I WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWERS AND I CAN'T STAND GETTING THEM PIDDLING BIT BY PIDDLY BIT!!!!!

Lmaooooo what a fuckin Mood. Thank you!!!!! Also, you’re getting Drunk Kylie answers which are arguably the Best answers. For the courtesy of everyone’s dash, answers are below the cut!! <3 <3 <3

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs! I have a sizable collection lmao #WriterLife

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

omg such a tough one, both are aces. seriously I can think of so many combatting pros & cons!! the only fair way i can currently conceive is which i would want weed in. Which is lollipops bc (#UnpopularOpinion) pot makes chocolate taste bad.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

both are great, but def bubblegum.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

“Pleasure to have in class” in true Gifted Child fashion

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

i’ll rate them in order: 1) can (absolutely preferred), 2) bottle if alone but plastic (lez be honest, Red Solo Cup) if with company, 3) glass (do not like)

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

#1 goth all the way. Pastel and Formal guest appearances

7. earbuds or headphones?

headphone, bc earbuds usually hurt my ears.

8. movies or tv shows?

first of all, how dare you. second of all, tv shows ONLY BECAUSE if all my fave movies were given tv shows so that they could last longer i would choose so

9. favorite smell in the summer?

idk i guess pool chlorine? dislike summer

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

bruh fuckin none. elementary school: too long ago to recall. middle school: escaped having to take gym at all. high school: had a medical excuse to take online PE. least athletic girl u know

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

i don’t have bfast bc eating close to when i awaken makes my tummy upset

12. name of your favorite playlist?

hmm 4-way tie between “#motivate #bitch” (gets me pumped to work) and “Friends Of The Illness” (my playlist of songs about and/or artist who are mentally ill) and “Ominous/haunting” (speaks to my creepy side) and “Bad Bitches” (self-explanatory amirite)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Key ring. Straight up I use an extra shoelace as my key ring string, despite owning multiple lanyards.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

god another fkn hard one. Listen y’all, you dont understand how much of a sugar fiend i am. candy is my JAM. Starbursts, Sour Straws, Skittles, Jolly Ranchers...who can choose?!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

“Ceremony” by Leslie Marmon Silko. Highly recommend!!!!!!!!!!!

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

laying down lol sitting is for suckers

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

combat boots like the gay i am

18. ideal weather?

low 70′s degrees (F*), intermittent showers during the day but clear starry skies overnight

19. sleeping position?

mostly fetal, mostly on my side but chest is towards the bed, one arm under the pillow under my head

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop. I used to love writing in notebooks, but ya girl got weak fingy joints nowadays

21. obsession from childhood?

pfft as if they aren’t the same obsessions i have now

22. role model?

so many!!!!! Jameela Jamil is the first that comes to mind

23. strange habits?

lmao i am ass-deep in idiosyncrasies, if you ain’t read the blog title already

24. favorite crystal?

i don’t know anything about crystals. does blue topaz count? cuz that’s my birthstone and i like that one a lot. i even had the foresight to pick that as my engagement ring’s stone in my utterly preposterous & failed relationship

25. first song you remember hearing?

oh wow, no idea. music has always been huge for me. probably either a Britney Spears or Mary J. Blige song???

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

stay inside lmao

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

WEAR SWEATERS & DRINK HOT CHOCOLATE, BITCH!!!!!!!!!

28. five songs to describe you?

oof ok, hard, but here goes:

“Here” by Alessia Cara

“Wannabe” by the Spice Girls

“I’m Just a Kid and Life Is A Nightmare” by Simple Plan

“No Daddy” by Teairra Mari

“Brick By Boring Brick” by Paramore

29. best way to bond with you?

i am straight up not easy to make friends with (bc my own bullshit, not trying to be pretentious), so bonding is hard. the best way is probably a combo of queer + memes + loves food + correct morals + being the dominant talker

30. places that you find sacred?

Libraries, locally owned coffee shops, Walmarts at 3am, playgrounds in the middle of the night, side of a rural road at 12am, my bed

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Blazer + shirt with a titty window + high waisted plaid pants + platform booties

32. top five favorite vines?

OMG I LOVE VINES OK OK OK OMG I LOVE SO MANY SO HERE ARE JUST THE ONES I QUOTE THE MOST OK:

Josh Kennedy: “What’s up my name’s Jared I’m 19 and I never fucking learned how to read”

Sarah Schauer: [dont remember the beginning] “didn’t you..?” “sleep in this? yes. mama needs A DRINK”

Evan Breer: “What’s up my & my boys are going to see Uncle Kracker - give me my hat back Jordan, do you see Uncle Kracker or no - *gasp!*”

Drew Gooden: “Road work ahead? Um yeah, I sure hope it does...”

Nathan Enick: “Yo how much money do you have?” “69 cents” “Oh you know what that means!” “...i don’t have enough money for chicken nuggets :( ...”

33. most used phrase in your phone?

bruh like how even am i supposed to answer this?? like texts or Siri requests or????? bc if it’s Siri requests then it’s 100% for arithmetic

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Stanley Steamer. you kno the one

35. average time you fall asleep?

3:30am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

bitch i’m a 90′s child of the internet, i was around the web before YouTube launched, i was there when the first modern memes were fucking conceived. i will say the biggest repository of meme culture that i was a part of was YouTube and icanhazcheezburger.com & its side-sites.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

duffel - Tie-Dye Girl from the Lindsey Lohan “Parent Trap” made quite the impression on me

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade! hate the leaf water

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake! Not a meringue pie girl saly

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

I’ve been to a lot of schools yo lol. My undergrad college was def the “weirdest” ofc, bc it was an art school lol. An instance that stands out was a string of “Solid Gold Clit” graffiti after a Sophia Wallace visit to campus right before i started there.

41. last person you texted?

My bff triad pals @backwardswriter and @bristarshine

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

damn tough call. Probably jacket pockets bc i’m more likely to have those as a lady who wears lady-targeted pants

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

Plum!

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, though sci-fi is a solid 2nd. Not much of a superhero gal

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

.....underwear only. Sometimes an oversized t-shirt too.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella!!!

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I would want to be like a pomegranate, but i’m probably a nectarine

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“If you hope for the best but expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

bitch i’m a giggle monster, i taught myself to be easily amused as a survival mechanism.

51. current stresses?

My own lack of discipline.

52. favorite font?

oooooof i have so many ok. too name a few: Centaur, Garamont, Book Antigua, Times New Roman, Montserrat.....mostly Serif fonts bc I’m an old books bitch

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I don’t love my hands (how homophobic of me, I know). Currently they’re kinda dry and full of sandwich

54. what did you learn from your first job?

what kind of boss I like. also that my customer service voice is frighteningly pleasant

55. favorite fairy tale?

Original tale: Thumbelina. Adaptations: Snow White.

56. favorite tradition?

uhhh Thanksgiving feast I guess? i am not a traditions gal

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

I am very very fortunate to not have a lot or a severity of these. The ones that I’ve had the worst of are: gender discrimination/harassment as a woman, hardcore emotional abuse in a relationship, and heavy heavy mental illness

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Tangible talents: writing, lying. Intangible: A+ imagination, useless trivia.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I support you!”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

like if Tokyo Mew Mew and Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni had a baby

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Again, how dare you. Like literally, asking me to pick a favorite line from something is like asking what my favorite breed of dog is. Legit impossible

62. seven characters you relate to?

Ananka Fishbein (Kiki Strike series), Mermista (She Ra & the Princesses of Power), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Gwen (Total Drama), Rori Gilmore (Gilmore Girls), Villanelle (Killing Eve), Andrea (St. Trinian’s)

so like all very- to semi-weird white girls lmao

63. five songs that would play in your club?

[by the term “club” i assume that i’m limited to pop and electronic music. even with the limitation, though, a super hard question]

“Talking Body” by Tove Lo

“Hot in Herre” by Nelly

“Because the Night” by Cascada

“Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels” by Todrick Hall

“Break Free” by Ariana Grande ft. Zedd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

pretty much any doll franchise’s site (Barbie, Bratz, My Scene, Polly Pocket, Diva Girlz, everGirl, etc you name it)

65. any permanent scars?

Yep. One by a dog scratch (it was honestly a weak/shallow/innocent scratch, i still have no idea why it scarred at all), and a few from a car crash last year

66. favorite flower(s)?

i don’t really like flowers? i usually just say Forget-Me-Not’s for ease

67. good luck charms?

bitch idk but i’m knocking on wood just from thinking bout it

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

you ever taste that chocolate Laffy Taffy? vile bruh

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I am annoying enough to know how i learnt all my facts, but the funnest fact I like to annoy people with is that ducks have corkscrew penises evolved from their main form of mating being rape

70. left or right handed?

Right (like any ol’ simp)

71. least favorite pattern?

polka dots

72. worst subject?

MATH and also PHYS ED

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

One time whilst high, I put nacho cheese Doritos on a tuna sandwich. Winning combo, I’m telling you

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

My pain tolerance is straight up unpredictable, so like anywhere from a 3 to a 9

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

5 years old

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Mashed potatoes

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

I am not a plant person. Moss.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

fucking neither but i at least like coffee so i guess the former....

(i know, it’s tragic and barbaric that i dislike sushi, i wish i had another answer for you)

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Neither lmao - I got them within a month of each other (six years ago) so they’re essentially the same photo.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I mean those are the same bug so I assume this is asking about which terminology I typically use/prefer. Which i would say both bc I’m a cultured ho

82. pc or console?

I don’t game so I guess PC lmao

83. writing or drawing?

Writing but I like both

84. podcasts or talk radio?

damn neither lmao I can’t focus on non-music audio only. I guess talk radio, just bc I can do like ten minute radio segments at least lol

84. barbie or polly pocket?

both were lit but I had more Barbies

85. fairy tales or mythology?

not to sound like a broken record but FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? second of all, I essentially consider them in the same category at this point in modernity, so my answer is Yes.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cupcakes, but both are exquisite

87. your greatest fear?

spiders, heights, clowns, seeing bad things happening to animals, that my consciousness will exist even after death, y’know normal stuff

88. your greatest wish?

to transfer myself into one of my fave fictional worlds

89. who would you put before everyone else?

dogs, next question

90. luckiest mistake?

i make a lot of those honestly, so who knows

91. boxes or bags?

LISTEN I LOVE CONTAINERS OF ALL SORTS, YOU CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE, IM PANSEXUAL FOR A REASON

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

FLASHLIGHTS, BITCH

93. nicknames?

Ky, KyKy, Moonshine, SugarTits, Goog Bones

94. favorite season?

Autumn (yes i call it that instead of Fall bc i’m a pretentious ass bitch lol)

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr, c’mon

96. desktop background?

Currently a digital art painting of a flowing stag in a swamp that I downloaded from DeviantArt. I change it every few months though (to other downloaded digital art from DA that I collect periodically lmao)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Seven - mine, my mom’s 2 numbers, my grandma’s, my pop’s cell and office (also my old office) numbers, and my childhood house phone number lol

98. favorite historical era?

Golden Age of Piracy, specifically bc the piracy lol

Thank you so much for the asks, this was so much fun!!!

[winchester-with-wings]

Chemical Reactions (Part 23)

Series Summary: Being a teacher at Central City Academy doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. You didn’t really notice or care…that is until the day the new substitute science teacher, Barry Allen makes an appearance.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 23 Summary: The decision has been made. Time Jump...

Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader, Substitute Teacher!Barry Allen x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1500ish

A/N: Thank you to my amazing friend and beta @thinkwritexpress-official!! Hope ya’ll like it! I’m about to have a stressful day at work so please give me something to look forward to! :( *i don’t own gifs*

Please let me know what you guys think of the story! Send me asks!

Mobile Masterlist

This was posted a few days agao on my Patreon! Wanna get previews, early access and make requests? Become a Patron! Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

The school year at CCA had ended with the expectation that Barry would continue on as full-time faculty.

Your secret relationship had ended the day Dr. Stein demanded an answer.

Barry maintains that your eyes were red and puffy from crying that day in his office. You’d had a substitute teacher scheduled too.

At the end of the school year, Barry bid his students goodbye and well wishes for the summer, all except Patty. Barry had been tempted to flunk her out of resentment. That would’ve meant that she wouldn’t graduate though, so he gave her the grade she’d earned solely off her scores.

Barry had also attended the graduation ceremony but only to see his brother Wally walk and get his diploma. Standing in the crowd with Joe and Iris beside him, Barry couldn’t help but look for you as well. Iris found you and called you over. You’d politely declined.

That’s how Joe and Iris found out about the break-up.

And Barry hasn’t seen you since that day.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 Months Later…

“Wally, have you finished packing?” Joe asks the recent graduate.

“I was actually thinking that maybe I could stay here while I go to school?”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to get off your butt,” Joe grumbles, playfully pushing on Wally’s head as he walks past. Wally is sitting sideways with his legs hanging over the armrest of Joe’s favorite chair in the living room.

“I’m keeping Barry company.”

The two men’s gazes drift across the room to rest on Barry, laying back on the couch in a hoodie while holding the remote in his hand. He barely registers the conversation, keeping his eyes on the TV, but is he even watching it? It’s Star Wars, but it’s the prequel trilogy, should he really be watching this? It doesn’t matter. On commercials, Barry flips between other channels but always comes back to Star Wars.

“Don’t enable him, Wally, and don’t use him as an excuse,” Iris scolds him, walking into the room and setting down her purse. She takes the remote from Barry’s hand and turns off the tv.

“...heyyy…” comes Barry’s delayed reaction. Iris hands the remote to Joe and then pushes back Barry’s hood to play with his hair. She kisses the top of his head but comes away frowning.

“Oh boy, you need to shower,” she tells him. Barry just grunts in response. Iris has seen Barry through past breakups but never like this. “Barr, I’m making your favorite meal tonight. The least you could do is smell better...and change out of those sweats. Now get going,” Iris pats him on the shoulder as he sits up, slumping forward. “And you,” she points at Wally. “I want you to go pack at least two boxes.”

“Dad, can’t I please stay here?” Wally looks up at Joe.

“We’ll talk about it,” Joe responds but his eyes don’t leave Barry. His heart breaks for his son, seeing him like this. Barry has heard him even say so in hushed whispers with Iris.

At dinner, Barry picks at the food, even though Joe did most of the cooking. Which is lucky. That means the food is actually really good. But Barry just can’t bring himself to eat.

“Have you given any thoughts to my offer, Barry?” Joe says.

“Hmm? What?” He looks up. Barry’s hair still looks a bit damp and he’s wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans.

“I said, Captain Singh has been pleased with your work this summer. He and I thought you might like some more part-time work at the department?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea Dad!” Iris agrees. “It would keep you busy during the school breaks.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. It’s been good. I just need to think about it some more.”

“Okay, well don’t think too long. The summer is already half over,” Joe mumbles as he turns his focus back to his food.

“May I be excused?” Barry asks a few minutes later, his plate still plenty full. “Thank you for the meal but I’m just not feeling very good. Think I need to lie down for a bit.”

“Sure, sweetie. I’ll wrap this up for you if you want it later,” Iris says, rubbing Barry’s back before he gets up from the table. He goes back to the couch and lays down.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, the hunger pangs become too much. He attributes his headache to hunger too but he knows better. Barry reheats some of the food but it doesn’t hit the spot. It’s about 8 o’clock so he decides to go for a walk, maybe go to Jitters.

He finds himself walking in downtown Central City, listening to music with that same old hoodie on. Maybe he should go for a run to get his blood pumping, to lift his spirits. He starts with a gentle jog, focusing on the ground beneath his feet with every step, noticing the faint smell of rain in the air.

He jogs until the burning in his lungs is enough to distract him from the other pain in his chest. But he finally has to come to a stop to catch his breath. He’s resting his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. He takes out his headphones and pushes back the hood which has fallen over his brow. When he notices where he is--he winces--not because of where he is of course, no, it’s because of the running, right? It couldn’t possibly be that he’s inadvertently run into Y/N’s neighborhood, right? He was running for Jitters and that’s just a few blocks down. That’s all, right?

He heads in the direction of Jitters, trying his hardest to not look at your apartment building. Is the light on? He wouldn’t know. But he does know. He knows it’s not on. You’re not home.

Because you’re walking down the street right now. Arm in arm with another man.

Barry’s heart skips a beat and it stops him in his tracks. He shuffles his feet quickly with the intent to cross the street. But then you look up in the midst of laughing, and you stop.

It’s too late for Barry to walk, or rather run away.

“Barry? Hey,” you smile, tender and perhaps a bit sad. Or maybe Barry is only imagining it. He looks up and notices that you’ve just exited a restaurant with this man. His knuckles are white and his face is burning with jealousy. “Looks like you’re out for a run? It’s good to see you.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Barry finds his voice. “It’s uh--good to see you too. Oh and yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” The two of you know enough to guess why. “Figured a jog would help. Was just heading to Jitters. ”

“Oh, that’s nice. Not sure a coffee will help with the sleep problem though,” you giggle and Barry fights down a smile. Damn, he’s missed your laugh. He misses your smile and the way your eyes always betrayed your feelings. He misses the feel of your skin on his, the touch of your hand on his face. He looks you up and down, drinking in your figure. You’re wearing a new dress. He’d never seen you wear it before. What was the occasion? “Oh, where are my manners? Barry, I’d like you to meet Julian Albert. Julian, this is Barry Allen. We work together at CCA.”

“I’m also her ex-boyfriend,” Barry wants to add but he doesn’t.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Allen,” he says with a british accent. He’s is shorter than Barry and has blonde hair and blue eyes. He extends his hand and Barry shakes it, perhaps a little stronger than necessary.

“Nice to meet you. You guys just have dinner?” Barry asks, playing nonchalant and gesturing to the restaurant.

“Yes, we did. It was marvelous. Have you been there?”

“No not yet. Always planned to take my girlfriend there though,” Barry says. Seeing the flutter of your lashes and the hurt in your eyes, it makes him feel a bit better. Are you in as much pain as him or have you truly moved on?

“Ah, well. We would highly recommend it, right Darling?” Julian looks at you. He’s oblivious to your hesitation but you nod eventually. “And you work with Y/N? What subject do you teach?”

“Chemistry and forensic science.”

“I teach the kids while Barry teaches teenagers.” like Patty, Barry assumes your implication.

“Oh wow, fascinating. I’ve dabbled with crime scene investigation before as well.”

“Julian’s an archaeologist,” you add. Barry feigns interest, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh wow! That’s gotta be fun, playing in the dirt, right?”

“That’s an oversimplification actually,” Julian comments, although he seems to understand that it was a joke.

“Well we should probably get going. I have somewhere to be in the morning so I don’t want to stay out much later,” you make an excuse, saving everyone from this encounter.

“Oh, of course, love. I’d be happy to walk you home. It was nice meeting you, Barry.” Julian smiles, completely oblivious.

“Wish I could say the same,” Barry says the words with a grimace before he can catch himself. You stare at him, shocked, your mouth hanging open. He doesn’t give either of you a chance to respond before he starts jogging again.

tagging: @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @karazoiel @overlyobsethed @therealcap @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @frankie2902 @fabinapercabeth4179 @yessoftball-lover06 @blckthrns @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @iammsamy @softdudebro @parkerschurros @stuttering-psychopath @woaahkelsey @montytheravenclaw @sanya-gryff @smutfornerds

[harryandmolly]

i could write it better than you ever felt it - FINAL

summary: fuck growing up. this is freedom, this is life, this is youth – 2007 Warped Tour style.

warnings: Language, vintage Something Corporate, oversugaring tea amidst Londoners

word count: 5.2k

A/N: this is it, fam! thanks for coming along in my time machine. I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be. Shawn’s song is “As You Sleep” by Something Corporate, highly recommend a listen. thank you for everything you are and everything you give me. I love you guys.

Lucky 13.

The emblem of the 2007 Warped Tour has surrounded her all summer, but it feels especially present today somehow, on the last day of tour in Carson, California.

It seems a contradiction in terms, lucky 13, which Val supposes is probably the idea. She knows it’s a cheeky nod to the counterculture vibe that Warped Tour represents, but it also feels representative of her in some ways.

Val’s had a very contemplative and quiet three weeks since she gathered her things and walked out of that hotel room, leaving the scribbled note on the pillow behind her. She’s turned inward, no longer hounded by her conflict with Raf or Bea, able to focus on herself for the first time in a few months. And she’s picked out a few things that coincide with the theme of the summer.

Val is often reckless, and sometimes maternal. Val is book smart, and also street smart. Val embraces academia, but sometimes thinks she could drown herself in music and never read books again. Val is vibrant even when she is broken.

Humans are made up of contradictions, Val knows that as well as anyone. She is not suddenly realizing that she is not only one thing -- her dichotomies are not really news to her. But as she thinks about the people she loves most, she sees the way certain parts of their personalities bump up against other parts and fight for dominance, and she loves them more richly for it.

Humans are made up of contradictions and Val is embracing that from here on out. She arrived on the first day of Warped wearing a blink t-shirt with a textbook on Ming dynasty art in her trunk. All summer, she studied the ways she doesn’t fit in here in the scene anymore like she was looking for reasons to make a clean split and join her adult life across the pond. But the truth is, she failed. She looked for the ways that made her feel different from this world that she helped in her small way to build, but it’s as much a home to her as academia is and it will never truly feel foreign, no matter how many hours she spends crouched over a 9th century vase with a tiny brush. So her biggest contradiction, her inner strife over choosing academia over pop punk, it fades into her skin like her tattoo, as much a part of her as the dimple in her chin or the curls in her hair that she decided not to straighten today.

Val walks the grounds as the sun begins to fade. The last sets of the day are in progress or being set up. With earbuds in playing Boys Like Girls, she strolls between booths of merch people clinking beers and congratulating each other on a summer well done, between groups of kids comparing signed merch, between crew guys beginning to break down and pack away equipment to be pulled out next June for another go around.

She imagines who she’ll be next June.

She walks slowly on her way to Smartpunk. It seems her body is just as hesitant as her mind to attend this one last set, but she’s doing it anyway. She’s not sure why -- to prove a point to herself? To indulge in the talent one last time? To try to believe in a miracle?

She doesn’t like any of those options. She settles on curiosity and keeps her feet moving in uncharacteristically small steps.

She stands at the back, nice and far from any moshing action, by the All Time Low booth so she can sit on the edge of the table without getting grief from Vinny Vegas.

She wears a small smirk as the space around her fills in. It seems every Warped attendee is a Forefront convert now. She doesn’t blame them. But damn is it a far cry from their first sets in June.

They’re announced over the yelping cries of fans wearing out their last screams of summer. They hustle out in a group, with their tall, gawky frontman bringing up the rear as usual. He plants himself in front of the mic and swings one powerful arm above his head with a wild grin to wave as his adoring fans.

And it begins.

They put on a hell of a show. It’s not a given -- just because you’re good in the studio doesn’t mean you have the chemistry or energy to do well live. There are special bands that make a live concert a nearly religious experience -- her friends in Paramore and All Time Low among them. Forefront has gotten their sea legs this summer and won’t easily lose them now.

She takes the time to notice each member -- passionate, goofy Francis on rhythm guitar, hard-hitting, soft-spoken Seth on the drums, raucous pretty boy bassist Bobby. And then Shawn, switching between his keyboard and guitar effortlessly like he was born with a damn instrument in his hand, charisma leaking out of him all over the stage, making everyone in a fifteen mile radius certain that he’s born to do this.

She closes her eyes through the end of “Open End” and waits for “Swim” to start. When Shawn switches back to the keys at this point in the set, he usually engages in some chit chat with the boys or yammers on to the fans about how much they inspire him or whatever. But he’s quiet and the air around the stage is tense because everyone knows something’s up.

Val opens her eyes. He’s where she expected him to be, propped at the edge of his bench with his fingers resting over the keys, looking down at them frozen.

“We’re gonna play you a new one today.”

Val’s stomach falls out and flops into the dirt at her feet. She’s glad she’s sitting on the table because she can’t feel her legs. She overwhelmed by certainty that whatever’s about to happen, it’s going to be personal. And it’s going to hurt like hell.

Shawn is quiet for a few more electrically charged moments before he closes his eyes, rolls his shoulders forward and leans into the mic, singing before the instruments join him.

“Close your eyes and I will be swimming, lullabies fill your room, and I will be singing, singing only to you. Don’t forget I’ll hold your head, watch the night sky fading red.”

His fingers work furiously against the keys. The piano line is so intricate and shows off his talent for the instrument in a way she’s never seen. He keeps his eyes down at his hands as they dance, distracting him enough from the content of the lyrics so he can get through them without breaking down like he did when he wrote it.

“But as you sleep, and no one is listening, I will lift you off your feet, I'll keep you from sinking. Don't you wake up yet, cause soon I'll be leaving you. Soon I'll be leaving you, but you won't be leaving me.”

Val closes her eyes again and lets herself fall back into their last night, into their frantic lovemaking punctuated by irresponsible, unkeepable promises. She thinks about the weight of his legs between hers as she drifted off with him in the last full night sleep she got on tour. She remembers the way she let her hand rest on his side of the bed to try to tell when he left by how cool to the touch it felt.

“In the car, the radio leaves me searching for your star, a constellation of frustration driving home, singing my thoughts back to me, and watching heartache on TV.”

It feels so good to get this out, Shawn thinks as he hits each note just the way he wants it. This song came spilling out after their last night together in a way that felt too easy. After all that he put her through, he doesn’t deserve to have his art come easy. But art is never fair.

“But as you sleep, and no one is listening, I will lift you off your feet, I'll keep you from sinking. Don't you wake up yet, cause soon I'll be leaving you. Soon I'll be leaving you, but you won't be leaving me.”

By the second chorus, Val knows the words. It’s hard not to zero in when you know they’re about you. She notes the way the crowd reacts, arms in the air waving at him like he’s Jimi Hendrix, cheering along, eating up everything he gives them.

Good, she thinks, he deserves it.

The lead into the bridge is still piano heavy, but his fingers know the strokes of the keys as well as his heart does, so he gets to sit up and look around, grinning as their fans cheer, watching the sky explode vibrant summer watercolors over the trees on the horizon. A thick, soothing breeze passes through.

He looks back through to where he saw her a few songs ago. He lets his gaze stay there long enough that she knows now that she’s been spotted. He licks his lips and leans into the mic, but keeps his eyes up at her, perched on the ATL merch table like she owns it.

He repeats the lyrics even though each word feels like tearing at scabs that won’t be healing for a while. He pours it all in, everything he has left, every piece of I’m sorry, every hint of thank you, every whisper of I love you, it soars out over the heads of the fans who love the words but don’t know the boy that wrote them.

They’re for her.

As the final note fades out under sweeping cries of gratitude from the scene kids that came to celebrate their home and community, Val stands, brushes the dust from her skinny jeans and secures her earbuds back in place. With a final nodding smile to Vinny, she turns from the stage and walks off in gigantic, loping steps to read about John Singer Sergeant and listen to Dookie on repeat.

+++++++

December 18th, 2017

Shawn doesn’t often fit most musician stereotypes -- he doesn’t drink too heavily, he doesn’t do any drug harder than weed, he’s kind of a serial monogamist.

But he does love a moody walk along a body of water.

With a pair of good headphones, a carefully curated playlist and a path along the water, Shawn can figure out anything. When he gets stuck on a song, he goes to the water. When he’s in a weird spot with someone he’s dating, he goes to the water. He doesn’t like to get too spiritual about it, but it does feel somehow clarifying.

So one afternoon in London when the sun is out and the Londoners are out with it, Shawn decides to join them. He’s there on business promoting the latest Forefront album with a Live Lounge performance on BBC Radio 1 with Nick Grimshaw. He’s jetlagged and a little turned around by the Underground system like he usually is when in London but he’s otherwise feeling just fine. He just needs a walk by the water today. He tries not to look too closely at why.

He bundles up in the Barbour jacket his mum got him last Christmas and sets off down the stairs into the opulent Savoy hotel lobby decked out with a Christmas tree in every corner and fresh garland wrapped around every non-moving object in sight. He smiles at it -- nobody does Christmas like the Brits. He’s looking forward to going home in a few days to see his mum and the rest of his family and decompress for a few weeks before heading back over to the UK to write and record their next album.

He gets reflective like this -- the combination of the water and the music offer him perspective he can’t usually reach otherwise. He tucks his hands in his pockets and sets off through the garden that opens up into the Victoria Embankment Gardens, usually lush and green in the spring and summer, full of life and people. He likes it like this, though, cold and quiet and almost like a little secret.

2017 has been good to him. Forefront played seven new countries this year on their world tour in celebration of their sixth studio album. He’s gotten a little better over the years about being more present in those moments rather than looking forward anxiously to the next album and the expectations that surround it. That attitude really spoiled the last few records, but the new friends he’s made in the industry have helped guide him through that. He’s even becoming friends with the Irish guy from One Direction now, though they had very different paths to the music industry. He seems like a cool guy.

Personally, 2017 wasn’t really a banner year. He broke up with Jess in April after almost a full year. He’s had a few of those lately -- relationships that start hot and don’t make it past a year mark. He should take a closer look at that and figure out why he can’t seem to stay in a relationship for longer than 11 months, but he’s too tired to think about it now. It’s been a long fuckin’ year.

It’s been a long ten years, actually, since Joy Ride. He thinks back to the show they played at home in Toronto over the summer to celebrate the big anniversary. They played the whole album start to finish, something they’ve never gotten to do. Being immersed in it like that brings back a lot of memories of that summer when everything really kicked off. Not all those memories are ones Shawn likes to think about.

He doesn’t think about Valentina much. It’s by design. He doesn’t even play “As You Sleep” as often as it’s requested. It just… doesn’t feel healthy for him. He’ll pull it out every once in a while when curiosity gets the best of him, when it’s been long enough that he forgets how sharply he still feels every word of that song. He usually regrets it.

He lets himself wonder about her sometimes, like today when he’s knee deep in nostalgia anyway. He still sees Raf and the other Streets guys. They went on a hiatus for a while around 2013 but are back again recording a new record somewhere in Malibu, from what Shawn’s heard. When he sees them, he doesn’t ask about her. He doesn’t want her knowing he’s asking. And he thinks sometimes he doesn’t want to know what she’s really up to, he’d rather imagine.

He falls into his favorite daydream. He likes to think she stayed in the UK (he always felt like that was the place for her to end up). Maybe she got a job in conservation at Oxford or Cambridge or some other hoity-toity university. Maybe she met a nice, polite, skinny, bookish English guy who looks at her like a miracle every time she speaks to him. Maybe they had a small wedding at his local church and his family loves her because she’s colorful and articulate. Maybe they have dogs -- sheepdogs or setters or something, good country dogs. And maybe they’ve had a little girl.

That’s where he usually shuts the daydream down. For obvious reasons.

But when he doesn’t, he thinks about her and who she might be. He thinks about thick, lush curls flopped over a tiny forehead. He thinks about pouty little lips and a chin dimple that matches her mother’s. He thinks about little feet that kick hard because she’d have to be strong, of course.

Now that he’s letting himself think about it, he thinks maybe she’d look kinda like the kid that’s staring at him, reaching out from her pram that’s parked next to the bench he’s strolling past. He smiles at her and she beams back with a grin that has only two teeth. It makes Shawn laugh.

He glances over at her lucky mum or dad.

And it’s almost like he expected it, like it had to be her. I mean, this kid really couldn’t have been anyone but Val’s. She’s just… so Val.

So when Shawn looks her over, from her sweeping dark curls and her leather trousers and her ankle boots, he’s barely even surprised to see her. He just tips his head back and chuckles at the universe.

“Hey mister,” she calls, and her voice sets his skin rough with goosebumps, “Can I have your autograph?”

Shawn lets go of where he’s holding on to the wrought iron fence above the banks of the Thames and walks over, his chelsea boots scratching at the frosty stone.

She doesn’t stand to greet him. She’s got a similar look on her face, bemused acknowledgement of fate and its tricks, like she was thinking about him too and they both somehow willed this to happen. Her long slender legs are crossed. She has one black leather-gloved hand in the pram in the grasp of her little girl who’s chewing on her finger and no longer paying Shawn any attention.

“Hey, Vally,” he sighs. He doesn’t mean to call her that, it just happens. She doesn’t visibly react beyond a slightly deeper dimple in her cheek, so he figures he scraped by with that one.

“Were you on your way somewhere?” she asks, glancing back as if she realized she might be taking him away from something.

He shakes his head. “No, I just-- I’m staying at the Savoy and I like these gardens. I just wanted a walk.” He has enough presence of mind to pause his music. He doesn’t bother to mention it’s an old Streets song. That she wrote.

“We like it out here. We live over by the Farringdon stop but we take the train out here because we like the waterfowl.”

Val looks down at the pram as she speaks. Shawn takes that as an invitation to acknowledge her more formally.

“Who’s this?” he asks breathlessly.

“This is Alice,” Val replies with as much pride as he’s ever heard from any mother, “Alice Fernanda Moreno, she’s nine months old and very hefty for her age because we run a body positive household and she loves mashed carrot and swede.”

Shawn lifts a hand and waves in that open-close way he does like he’s a big toddler himself. Alice kicks hard and squeals at him.

“She’s… so beautiful,” he marvels. Val’s smug smile tells him she agrees. Shawn doesn’t share his next thought because it feels like a line and he doesn’t want to go there.

Because she looks exactly like you.

“I picked out a real pretty one,” she jokes, tightening the wrap of the thick wool blankets around Alice as she yawns.

Shawn continues staring at her openly, trying to pick out features that could belong to any potential father, but as far as he can tell, Alice is simply a clone of Val. It’s Val’s throat clearing that brings him back.

“Sit, Mendes,” she suggests, patting the warped wooden bench. Shawn lowers himself on the other side of the pram as Val rocks it back and forth with her foot.

“She’s been fussy today, but it’s naptime. She has to give in eventually,” Val mutters like she’s reasoning with herself. Shawn grins.

“You have a daughter.”

Val doesn’t look up from the pram as she rocks it. She just nods and snuggles into her prim peacoat.

“I have a daughter.”

Shawn can’t bring himself to ask. She’s wearing gloves so he can’t see if she’s wearing a ring. He stays quiet and studies her instead.

She looks largely the same, barely even older than she did at 22. Her sense of style is maybe the only thing he can see that’s changed in the ten years since he’s seen her last. There’s something comforting in that.

He wonders if he seems different. He works out more now, eats right. He’s definitely put on a whole lot of muscle since he was scrounging for burger scraps on Warped. He’s gotten a few more tattoos she can’t see. He also has an actual stylist now, which is sometimes weird, but he’s elevated the black skinnies, Vans and band tees to black skinnies, $800 boots and silk button-ups. So there’s that.

He’s still got that lip ring though.

But… he wonders if he seems different. If he carries himself differently. If he comes off more confident, more calm, less wide-eyed and wondering.

Because she seems the same. She’s always glowed from the inside out like this. Maybe the glow feels a little stronger now. Or maybe it’s just because she glows through herself and her baby girl all at once. Shawn sits back and watches them -- he could bathe in it all day.

“You know it’s been ten years?” she breathes.

Shawn nods slowly. “I know. Kinda feels like 40.”

She laughs and a piece of him astral projects back to nights tangled up in her bunk kissing her neck and trying to keep her quiet so her brother won’t come mock them from outside the bunk curtain.

“It does,” she muses, “But sometimes it feels like fifteen minutes ago, too.”

Shawn tips his head back and sniffs, looking up through a tall pine as its needles shiver.

“Has your decade been good to you?” she murmurs. He lifts his head back up. She’s staring down at the baby.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been great. We’ve toured a lot, done a few more albums. The guys and I, I mean, you know us, we’d push each other in front of a bus most days, but we’re brothers and maybe obsessed with each other, too. We’re on a great ride.”

Val lifts her eyes to his briefly, all too knowingly, and lowers them back to the pram. “That’s good.”

Shawn shakes his head. “That’s not even at all what you meant, was it?”

“Nope.”

Shawn goes quiet, contemplative. Val waits him out until he’s ready.

“It’s harder than I thought it would be,” he chokes finally, “Everything about it. Writing after Joy Ride, it was… it got bad. I mean, I was ok, like fundamentally, but I didn’t feel good. We had so many eyes on us. We had no idea what to do, just like no one else does. Some tours were great, some were bad. And the whole deal makes everything else harder. It’s hard on my family, my friends. I… I haven’t been in an actual good relationship in… five years, at least. This year was better. We’ve gotten our feet back under us. I let it all out in the last album, and that helped.”

“I know, I heard it.”

Shawn looks up from Val’s hands in the pram. For the first time all morning, he’s really, truly shocked to the bone.

“You did?”

Val doesn’t answer him exactly, just mutters something about needing to get the baby inside and announces they’ll head down the lane for a cup of tea. She leads them to a little corner coffee shop made for hipsters, not for women with very expensive prams, but Val doesn’t seem to care and parks in the corner by the fire. She layers down, stripping off her scarf and coat to a black turtleneck. Her cheeks go warm as she settles in and orders for them.

Shawn keeps his mouth shut and tries not to do the mental math of how many of the songs he’s released in the last ten years have been written about her, and exactly how many of them she might have noticed are definitely, totally written about her.

She folds her manicured hands together and looks up at him. His brain mercifully shuts off.

“It took a while after that summer for me to get there, but about three years later, I was around Oxford with some friends and I saw your latest album, on vinyl no less, in some indie record store. I suddenly got this feeling that I had to stop my whole life for a minute and go in and buy it. I bought it and the one that came before it, I said goodbye to my friends and I shut myself up in my flat for a couple days with a bottle of whiskey and just… let it happen.”

Shawn winces. “Wish you’d have just skipped over Making Midnight.”

Val smirks. “I wish I had, too.”

Shawn scoffs and leans back in his chair, mock offended. Val giggles and dumps an ungodly amount of sugar in her Earl Grey.

“I was glad to just hear your voice again, actually. I’d done a good job of avoiding it. Too good, maybe, because it was a real shock to the system when I heard it again.”

Shawn knows how that feels. He went through a Val cleanse too, a much shorter one because he doesn’t have her willpower. And then he heard a song she wrote with Alex Gaskarth for All Time Low’s Dirty Work and he let her back in.

“From then, I just bought your records when they came out. I really loved this last one. It really… I dunno, it just really felt like you, I guess.”

Shawn keeps his head down as he stares at his tea. He hears Alice coo. He looks up to see Val lifting her out of her pram to bounce her in her lap, baby in one arm, cup of tea in the other.

“God, it’s so fuckin’ good to see you,” he croaks, shaking his head a little, “Especially…”

He trails off, unwilling to finish. He ducks his head again.

“Especially with a kid I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to have?” Val guesses.

Shawn glances up and nods.

“Do you want to hear about this?” Val murmurs, ignoring Alice as she yanks at some silky curls.

Shawn chews on his lower lip. “Yeah, I think I do.”

It’s Val’s turn to look down. She stirs the mountain of slowly dissolving sugar at the bottom of her mug and sighs.

“She’s just mine. Last year I started to get a little anxious about my biological clock, especially given the last time I got pregnant. I saw a fertility specialist and we discussed my history and she agreed if I want to have children, it’s probably better to start now. So I went in for IVF. On the second cycle, I got pregnant with Alice. The pregnancy was complicated, but my doctor was a saint and did everything absolutely right. The birth went perfectly. So now it’s me and Alice against the world.”

Shawn slides his tongue against his lower lip, taps his foot impatiently against the leg of his chair. “Just you two?”

“Just us two,” Val replies easily, “There were a couple guys in and out before her, but I haven’t gone out with anyone since I got pregnant. I didn’t feel the need. I just wanted to focus on her. I’m glad I did.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, reflective. Then Val stands and looks down at him.

“Would you mind holding her for a minute? I need to use the loo.”

Shawn bites his lip and nods, standing to complete the transfer. Alice is asleep in her mother’s arms, but, as Val explains with a chuckle, “she’s a snuggle whore -- she’ll go with anybody for a little cuddle.”

Shawn sits. Alice curls up against his chest and pops her tiny lips in her sleep. She radiates warmth from her little swaddled bundle. As he stares down at her, Shawn fundamentally understands why Val hasn’t needed anyone else in her life since Alice arrived. He thinks if Val let him, he’d never put her down.

Alice stretches a tiny arm out in her sleep and punches Shawn in the chest. He snickers, jostling his little bundle, but it doesn’t wake her. He starts to get comfortable, sliding down in the chair a bit so he can rock her, but Val’s hand on his shoulder startles him.

“It’s ok,” she says, “Keep her, if she’s not fussing. I’d rather she stay asleep.”

Shawn nods eagerly and strokes Alice’s back with his long, rough fingers. Val sits across the table with her elbows propped up like she’s physically restraining herself to keep from snatching her child out of his arms. It makes Shawn grin.

“You ok over there?”

Val blushes, caught. “It’s usually just the two of us. I don’t ever have to share her. I’m not used to jonesing.”

“I’ll give her back if you want,” Shawn mumbles reluctantly. Val giggles.

“No, it’s ok. She looks happy.”

Shawn hums. She does look happy.

“So are you working?” he asks quietly, not wanting to wake Alice.

Val nods. “We are, we work at the V&A in the medieval department. We just started back about a month ago after my maternity leave. The museum’s been very generous. They let me walk around with her strapped to my chest all day. She helps consult on various matters, charms my coworkers into letting me leave bottles of breastmilk in every fridge in the museum. I shifted from conservation to curation a few years ago, which is a steadier, more lucrative track. I think it’ll be better for us.”

Us. We’re working at the V&A. We started back at the museum. Shawn’s enamored. He goes pink and brushes through the curls on the back of Alice’s neck.

“Sounds like you’ve got a great partner here,” he quips.

Val is quiet for a minute. “We’re very happy together. But we get a little lonely sometimes. Like when it’s cold and mummy really doesn’t want to get out of bed but Alice is screaming bloody murder. Those are the only moments when this isn’t the greatest thing in the whole world.”

Shawn looks up. Val is watching him carefully. Before he can speak, she swallows and lowers her gaze.

“But we get along, you know. We’re ok.”

“Yeah,” Shawn says, “I know you are.”

They chat. They talk about Raf and his wife Rachel and their little ones -- Val and Alice will be heading across the pond to spend Christmas with them and her parents. They talk about Bea and how she’s spent five years with the same guy up in Edinburgh and she seems actually happy. They talk about their near miss at Alex’s wedding last April -- she came for the ceremony but had to skip out of the reception, Shawn the opposite. They chat through several more cups of tea, an array of pastries, and another nap cycle until it’s dark and quiet outside. Val stares mournfully out the window as she puts on her jacket with Alice back in her pram, gurgling quietly.

Shawn is silent, brow furrowed. He pays the tab with a ghost of a smile and thinks about walking back to his hotel to sit in his room with the TV to try to drown out this day. It’s… unappealing to say the least.

They walk to the door. Shawn holds it open for Val and Alice and considers that they probably look to anyone else like a young family that spent the day together and are headed home to a warm dinner and a cozy night in.

Val’s heart pounds in her ears faster than their boots’ steps on the crunchy ground. She wants to swallow the words, but she doesn’t think she can. Not with him.

“Would you like to walk us home?” she breathes.

Shawn’s smile is extraordinary. He looks up from Alice’s curious brown eyes.

“Yes, please.”

Support your local Ho for Happy Endings and buy me a ko-fi!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway@accioalena @randi-eve @shawnitsmutual @embracehappy @itrocksmysocks @yslsaint @peacedolantwins2 @kitykatnumber

[heroicadventurists]

Batman and The Outsiders # 1 **SPOILERS**

Lesser Gods part 1

Recap and Review

This issue begins in Los Angeles. A Father (Gabriel) and Daughter (Sofia) are driving along a highway. Sofia is listening to her headphones to the annoyance of her Dad. He tells her to play music in the car but she tells him she prefers the headphones. He promptly reminds her that he is her Father and asks her to take the headphones off. She complies.

-“You’re thinking about your Mother. I know what day it is. I won’t tell you how to grieve, but Ana would want you to be happy, she always said—" Gabriel

The car suddenly hits a man standing in the middle of the road, but instead of killing the man, he crushes the car.

The man stands on top of the car and pulls Gabriel thru the windshield. He grabs his neck and you see a light escaping his eyes and mouth before he dies. Before Sofia can run, the man grabs Sofia by her neck.

-“Nothing from my touch. Strange. So scared. You don’t know what you are. Let me show you.”-Strange killer

The man proceeds to throw Sofia over the bypass and she slams into a gas tanker. The tanker explodes from impact and the scene ends with Sofia’s screaming face.

The issue switches to Gotham City. Signal and Orphan appear to be at the docks, taking cover from a mad man (Saint John) wielding a machine gun. Signal tells Orphan that he can rush Saint John but Orphan tells him to wait for Black Lightning. Duke does not respond well to this.

Suddenly Black Lightning appears, firing lightning at Saint John’s helmet, while Katana slices his gun with her sword. Black Lightning tells Katana to cover her eyes and he lights Saint John up.

With Saint John down, Black Lightning reprimands Signal for not waiting for him & Katana. Signal tells Black Lightning that he is not his Father and he’s not Batman.

-“Neither are you, Signal. That’s why I had to save your life. We have to work together. We’re a team.” – Black Lightning

Shamed, Signal walks away and tells everyone he will call GCPD. Katana asks Orphan if he is normally like this. She responds that he has been different since he was injured by Karma.

The scene switches once again to Kubrick Towers. Bruce is meeting Jefferson for a report.

-“Duke’s not right. Cassandra thinks this is recess. Katana will kill someone before this is over.” -Jefferson

Bruce tells Jefferson they are his team and to make them what he wants them to be. Jefferson questions if this is truly his team. At this point Jefferson and Bruce have a real conversation about Bruce’s real intentions with forming the Outsiders.

-“I need to solve some things. For myself. And they…need more from me than I can give.” – Bruce

On his way out, Bruce tells Jefferson he put the penthouse in his name.

We switch to what appears to be the Batcave. Batman is surveying the wreck from earlier in the issue. It’s confirmed that Gabriel is dead and Sofia is missing.

We move to an abandoned building that Tatsu is living in. She is trying to communicate with her husband’s soul inside her sword.

Tatsu tells Jefferson he is not as quiet as he thinks, and he comes out of the shadows. He tells her that he needs her wisdom. Tatsu tells him to pick up a sword. They spar while Jefferson asks Tatsu for her help.

-“Duke is punishing himself. Cassandra is a mystery I can’t solve. Help me with them.” – Jefferson

Jefferson tells Tatsu that he needs a partner. He wants her to challenge him. After he leaves, her husband’s soul speaks to her “Taaatttsssuuuuu”. She cries as she holds the sword.

Next, we see Cass and Duke riding her motorcycle. During the ride, Duke is only thinking about Karma and he cries out for Cass to stop. She asks Duke if he’s ok and he tells her he still sees Karma.

“It’s okay. When I sleep…I see my Dad.”-Cass

Cass tells him it’s okay to be afraid, and he yells that he is not afraid. Cass begins to apologize but their batwatches go off.

The Outsiders meet up with Batman on top of a building. He briefs them on The Ark Program. A consortium of billionaires wanted to create their own metahumans. Batman burned it down. The architects tried to kill all the test subject, and only the Ramos family survived. Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox set them up in a house in Los Angeles and Batman promised them they would stay safe. Batman informs the team that the Mother eventually died due to the experiments and Gabriel was just killed. Their task is to find Sofia and bring her to Gotham. At this, Batman grapples away.

Right away, Black Lightning is distrustful of Batman and wants to decline the mission. In the end, Katana informs the team that they are taking the mission.

-“I don’t trust Batman. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter----is us trusting each other. Because I have a feeling we are own our own.”-Black Lightning

We go back to Sofia, and she is at the train station trying to keep a low profile and get out of Los Angeles. As she’s walking a man in the shadows grabs her from behind. He tells her that she will pull humanity from the ashes; and thru her a new age is born.

Review

I really enjoyed this comic. First off, the art work is AMAZING. Dexter Soy really took this comic book to the next level. The only thing that threw me off was Bruce looking like an older version of Jason. I had to do a double take for a moment. Speaaking of Jason, Gabriel's license plate was TODD JASON. Dexter did a great job.

I really enjoyed the development we’re getting with Duke. Duke had a very traumatic experience with Karma in Detective Comics, and it’s nice to see them addressing those issues.

I am also intrigued by Jefferson’s relationship with Duke and Tatsu. A part of me feels like Duke is pushing Jefferson away because he reminds him of his Father; or he feels that Jefferson is trying to take his Father’s place. He really has no other reason to be this combative. Jefferson is eventually going to break down Duke’s walls; and when he does, I think they will have an unbreakable bond.

Jefferson and Tatsu have a lot of chemistry and I would probably ship Jefferson with Tatsu if I knew the status of Anissa and Jennifer. If he hasn’t had them yet, then I wouldn’t ship them, but if he’s divorced from Lynn already, then it would be an interesting relationship to explore.

When Jefferson visited Tatsu, she told him that Cassandra was afraid of her future. I hope this is tied to Detective Comics 980 where Cass learned she was both Batgirl and adopted. Stephanie seems to have taken the news from Tec 980 well. She's not bitter that she was never Robin or Batgirl in this timeline. She is actually referring to herself as a Robin in Young Justice. Stephanie doesn't care what time line it happened in, a win is a win. Cass's situation is entirely different. While she can take the same approach with the Batgirl mantle, she can't do that with the adoption. That has to be something formally initiated by Bruce. I think there are a couple of things Cass could be afraid of: (1) Deep inside she is bad and they will get rid of her like they did Basil (2) She never reaches her full potential and does not become an official bat (she never wears the symbol) (3) She's never adopted again (if Bruce doesn't adopt her, what does that mean for their current relationship?). It could be something else entirely or a combination of 1-3. Hill has a lot of compelling directions he can go with Cass. A follow up from Tec 980 would be great.

Last, but certainly not least….Bruce Wayne. Honestly, Bruce came across as someone who really doesn’t care what the team is doing as long as they stay out of his hair and they’re alive. When Bruce met with Jefferson at Kubrick Towers, he confirmed my suspicions that he formed BatO and put Jefferson in charge so he could be Duke and Cassandra’s primary mentor. While it may seem messed up that he is not making time for them, I respect the honesty of the situation. Bruce’s life is crap right now. He’s trying to rebuild his relationship with Damian, he has no clue what to do with Jason and this Iceberg situation, Dick is Ric and at some point, he should realize that Tim is missing on Gemworld. Not to mention his Dad from another Universe is teaming up with his enemy and he’s still heartbroken over Selina. He’s stretched thin and has realized he doesn’t have the physical time or emotional availability to look after/mentor Duke and Cass. He’s giving them a better option in Jefferson. He even gave Jefferson a pent house for his troubles. I think Jefferson knew from the beginning why Bruce formed the team, which explains why he doesn’t trust him. They are laying the seeds of Batman eventually leaving the Outsiders and if that happens, I feel like this comic will be a great vehicle for Black Lightning to shine. I wouldn’t be surprised if they phased Batman out of the title once they have some consistent sales. It wouldn’t be anytime soon, but I wouldn’t mind BatO becoming The Outsiders.

This was a great issue with some great art. If you’re a fan of these characters I highly recommend you pick up this issue.

[croatian-nt]

Mario’s snippet

I recommend reading through my high school AU masterlist(in the notes since tumblr fucked uf links) first for this to make sense 

Word Count: 2293

Warnings: again, some violence, fighting(do @domo-no-domo-yes and I have a thing for injuring main characters and them having anger issues? Perhaps. 

Notes: So this is Mario’s introduction post. Some things you should know about him:

he’s the star striker of the local football club

has an unexpected interest in fashion

Is 18 and in fourth year

Seems very intimidating to most people a lot admire him but keep him at arm’s length

his best friends are Dejan, Mo and Leona(important to note mo and Leona are gender swapped football players. You’ll learn more about them later ;) )

Also big shoutout for @wordpuddle as always for editing our works 

That’s about it. Enjoy :)

For Mario, it was bad enough that he had to be stuck in detention instead of going out or playing football. This wasn’t his first time, and he knew that he technically broke school rules, but the fact that he got detention and Santini got away scot-free for doing something at least equally bad just pissed him off. However, hearing the news that another student was going to join him in detention only made his mood worse.  

He knew that he was supposed to be thankful. Less work and an extra pair of hands did sound like more than a good deal. However, he did not exactly like the idea of someone bothering him as he worked. Also, even if he was supposed to have someone who was going to be serving detention alongside him, they seemed to be running late, and Mario didn't plan on getting in more trouble because he waited for that idiot.

Mumbling “no good” under his breath, he wiped some sweat off his brow, soaked his rag and squeezed out the excess water. Just as he was about to start cleaning the first table, the canteen doors swung open with a loud bang.

Mario quickly turned around, nearly jumping as he was startled by the sudden loud noise. His eyes fell on a certain smirking, blond punk, who looked him up and down as if they never met each other before… even though both of them knew otherwise.

“Not you again.” Mario groaned, fighting the urge to rub his forehead. His detention companion was none other than Domagoj Vida - inarguably the most notorious troublemaker in the entire school, and all too proud of that fact.

Vida's shit-eating smirk only grew at that as he approached Mario with intent, like a panther stalking its prey. Still, Mario refused to budge. Instead, he put down his rag and returned the smirk with a grim, hard expression of his own. He wasn't about to be intimidated that easily by a guy who wore black eyeliner and had a stupid lip piercing.

“Aww...did you miss me, Mr. No Good?” Vida's eyes playfully flashed. Mario rolled his eyes and curled his lip with disapproval. If the idiot thought he could get under his skin quickly, he was in for a rude awakening.

“No, I didn't miss someone who almost ran me over with his bike because he doesn’t know how to fucking drive.” Mario gritted his teeth together, stopping the rest of the insult from pouring out. If he went on, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he knew that things would inevitably end up as more than a fight with just words. He also knew that while Vida was shorter than he was, he wasn’t a pushover.

He turned around to face the table again, huffing. He couldn’t believe that he was going to be spending detention with Vida for the next month. From the way the punk was dressed, it seemed as if he didn’t even care that he was supposed to be at detention and was going to be cleaning for a couple of hours. In contrast to Mario’s own simple navy tank top and faded jeans, Vida wore his usual all-black - ripped skinny jeans, combat boots, fingerless gloves, at least two necklaces, and a black leather jacket with spikes adorning its collar and shoulders.

“Just leave your stuff and start cleaning...and for fuck’s sake, wear something more practical next time. This is detention, we’re supposed to be working, not fooling around. This is not the time for your stupid pranks unless you want even more detention time.”

He could hear Vida laugh, and he looked back. The blond had taken off his jacket, his tattooed arms in full view now that he was just in his black shirt, and was now pulling his long hair back into a high ponytail. He then gathered the rest of the things he had taken off and set them aside. Mario tried to fight the urge to roll his eyes or say something sarcastic as he tore his eyes away and tried to focus on the task at hand.

“What did you do to end up here? You don't seem like the sort to enjoy having a bit of fun anyway.” Mario didn't have to turn around to know that the fucker probably still had that stupid smirk plastered on his face as he tried to get a rise out of him.

“Who the hell said that it was a stupid prank that landed me here? It’s none of your business.” Mario’s patience was wearing thin, though he didn’t exactly have much of it, to begin with. Vida’s remark, however, made him recall the events of two days ago that led to him getting himself into trouble.

========

“Santini, enough!” Mario roared as Ivan Santini’s fist connected with the jaw of Alen, one of the new recruits. A sickening crack followed, and Mario swiftly grabbed his fellow striker’s wrist, gripping it tightly.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! What does this stupid hazing achieve? What we need are uninjured players to win our games! Are you trying to fucking sabotage us?!” His eyes blazed with anger and hearing Alen whimper in pain, as well as seeing all the other new team members’ bruises only made him more furious. Santini, however, only returned Mario’s glare with a cool expression of his own.

“How many times have I told you that these harmless little exercises are meant to build character? Football is a man’s sport, Mandžukić, and wimpy little boys don’t belong on this team. Do you understand?” Santini’s smile was cold and cruel as he carelessly regarded the players in the locker room. “Or are you too soft?”

Santini laughed, but Mario cut it short by throwing a hard punch at his face, followed by another. Santini’s rough hands grabbed Mario by the neck, but Mario ducked, before elbowing Santini in the gut. He stumbled back, and Mario kicked him down. Before Mario could make another move, however, another voice cut them off.

“MANDŽUKIĆ! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” Mario, realizing that they were in the school’s locker room rather than the club locker room, looked towards the doorway and saw Coach Lopetegui. The man’s expression was stormy and his arms were folded. Two bad signs. Rather than defend himself, Mario remained silent, his face hard. Frankly, Santini deserved it.

“To the headmaster’s office, Mandžukić! This is not proper behaviour befitting a star striker!” Coach Lopetegui ordered, clearly meaning business.

========

Mario noticed Vida glancing pointedly at his bandaged knuckles, and it almost looked like something akin to understanding flashed through his eyes. It was a brief moment, however, as Vida’s usual smirk crept back on his face a few seconds later.  

“No stupid prank huh? I knew you weren't the fun type. Shame. Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like you though.” Vida remarked, flashing a brief, impish grin before proceeding to grab one of the rags hanging above the sink.

“Just because you probably got detention for a stupid prank yourself, doesn’t mean I did. Let me guess, were you the one responsible for the beers?” Mario had heard about Mr. Čačić’s outburst after finding beer cans glued to the walls of his office. It was difficult not to, actually, considering that Mario was in the chemistry laboratory, which was right next to Mr. Čačić’s office when the old man discovered that somebody had vandalised his space. The math teacher was known for his short temper after all.

“Hmm...what makes you think that, Mr. No Good?” Vida chuckled as he held his rag under the running tap until it was soaked, then proceeded to choose a table to begin working on.

Mario expected Vida to keep talking and that he will have to try and mute him out during the whole detention but to his surprise, Vida pulled out headphones, quickly selected a song from his playlist and continued cleaning. Mario heard the faint yet distinctive beat of aggressive, hard rock music.  

He wondered exactly how high had Vida set the volume. Even without wearing headphones, Mario could already hear the loud, heavy music. He also wondered exactly how loud it was for someone listening through headphones. He also wondered if Vida could even hear his own thoughts with such loud music. Assuming that of course, Vida was capable of thinking for extended periods of time, which he highly doubted.

As the time ticked, Mario couldn’t help but harbour suspicion towards the blond punk, and he regularly looked over his shoulder to see what Vida was up to. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him felt as if he was going to spring a trap on him anytime soon. Yet, for some reason, nothing happened. Aside from offering up his headphones a couple of times, and as well as the occasional grin, there was absolutely no indication that Vida was about to do anything that Mario was dreading.

By the end of their detention, Mario found himself seriously considering his impression of Domagoj Vida to be partly wrong. He seemed rather different from his usual, annoying prankster self, at least while serving detention. Of course, part of him was still reluctant to accept this. That part of him was giving him that nagging feeling that, if what he knew and heard about Vida was true, Vida wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

“I guess I should be going now. See you around on Monday, Mr. No Good?” Vida had shrugged his leather jacket back on and was now buckling his choker around his neck. Mario noticed that the blond was smiling warmly, but he could’ve sworn that he noticed a hint of mischief in his smile. It was fleeting, but Mario was certain that he saw something. His suspicions only heightened when Vida swiftly took his leave. Wondering if something had happened when his back was turned, he reached for his bag and unzipped it. He dug around for his wallet, his keys and his phone, and when he found them, he was secretly relieved to see all of them there, and that none of them had been stolen. He still checked the rest of his bag’s contents, however, not fully trusting the punk. Nothing had been touched either.

Grumbling to himself, he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, hung his rag near the sink and left the canteen. When he reached the parking lot, the first thing he noticed was that Vida’s motorcycle was still in its usual spot. He furrowed a brow, remembering all too well that Vida had left earlier than him.

Mario then went over to his own car, thinking that perhaps, Vida was probably just squatting and drinking a beer somewhere in the parking lot. What he didn't expect to see was a familiar black-clad blond leaning over his car and attempting to place a cracked-glass prank sticker on his windshield.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, letting annoyance slip into his voice. This caught Vida by surprise and nearly made him fall into the car, as it didn’t have its roof put on. Mario couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit amused at the sight, as well as a bit proud of himself for catching Vida in the act. He bit back his laughter, however.

Vida caught his balance and momentarily leaned against the red Bentley to steady himself. He then quickly turned around, the sticker still in his hands. There was a look of surprise on his face as if he did not expect Mario to show up that quickly.

“...Decorating?” Vida’s smirk was its usual cocky self, but Mario knew better. He saw a hint of sheepishness in Vida’s expression, one that someone who had been caught in the act would have.

“Nice try. Give me that.“ Mario quickly snatched the sticker from Vida's hands, tucking it into one of the pockets of his bag. He gave Vida a dark, warning look. “Now get lost before I decide to run you over like you almost did to me.”

Vida rolled his eyes but Mario could see his pierced lip twitching in amusement and the corners of his mouth raising. As if his look had not fazed him the least bit. In fact, Vida was looking into his eyes a bit too intently. As if he was intrigued, rather than intimidated. It was something that Mario wasn’t exactly used to. Most people looked at him with equal parts respect and intimidation, but here was someone who didn’t. Someone who wasn’t intimidated by him, for some reason.

“Just wanted to make your life a bit more fun, Mr. No Good. But I guess you’re still too boring...or at least, making a valiant effort to resist my efforts,” Vida laughed as he threw a mock salute in his direction before they parted ways.

Mario shook his head before getting into the car. That guy really was as much trouble as he originally assumed. And yet, why did Mario take his words as a challenge? He knew that he could’ve easily just ignored them and act maturely, yet here he was, thinking about his next move in the strange but oddly exciting game that Vida had unwittingly started. The thought of wiping the smirk off Vida’s face rather appealed to him.

As he drove home, he momentarily looked at the cracked glass sticker he had swiped, and an idea wormed its way into his mind. He was going to have to head to school early on Monday. If Vida dared mess around with him, he wasn’t going to make things easy, or go down without a fight.

The game was on.

Taglist:

@lovren-la-vida-luka

@ohmylovren

@synne-sol

@loodalo

@croatianstan

@living-lovren

@zadarskabagudina

@marice-marice

@pinessa

@igecko1320

@sejan-is-love

@childsmokers

[affectedexistence]

Get to know me tag! I was tagged by @whoshugginghop 

Name: Meg

Birth year: 1991. I was born in a mirror world.

Sign: Fishies do the swim-swim.

Put your playlist on shuffle and name the first five songs

1. “Spirit Cold” Tall Heights

2. “Ribbon” Billie Marten

3. “In the Beginning” Fahrenhaidt, Alice Merton 

4. “The Night We Met” Lord Huron

5. “Until the Levee” Joy Williams

Grab the nearest book and turn to page 23. What’s the 17th line?

All of my book-books are in the closet of doom with all of my other earthly possessions, so picking from the top of my kindle library instead. Which means this is coming from a free Kindle read that I haven’t actually read. I also had to go to page 24 because the Kindle skipped from 22 to 24. Will I ever read this book? Probably not.

“-other faiths and developed her own brand of spirituality. But she hadn’t wanted to-”

(The Snow Gypsy by Lindsay Jayne Ashford)

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Don’t think so. If you’ve written one about me (or want to take this opportunity to do so), let me know and send it my way. Especially if it’s a diss track. Keep me humble, folks. I do know people who have based characters off of me for their scripts, which has always been super flattering. 

When was the last time you played air guitar?

Probably a week ago, at my dad’s wedding reception. Twas much good times, and the band was fantastic. If you’re in Southern CA, I highly recommend them. They’re OC based, and they’re called Ragdoll. They did a series of classic rock covers and the female vocalist did a great job on Stevie Nicks songs. They were also super fun with the wedding group and let guests come up and sing with them, including the bride and groom. Previous to this, they’ve been one of my dad’s favorite bands, so he was super stoked that they did the reception. Check them out!

Celebrity crush(es)

In the traditional sense of a crush, eh. Ace/Aro here. But in the Friend-Crush kind of way, I think Robbie Sheehan would just be fantastically fun to be around. Him or Brendan Urie. Talented folks who I imagine could only make a person better to be around. 

What’s a sound you hate/love?

hate: chewing (if I can still hear you while wearing headphones blasting my music at full volume, you need to figure that shit out), fireworks (too unpredictable, the fourth of july is a nightmare, I feel nauseous the whole day), crying (not just like light crying, but that broken-hearted, nothing you can do to help, defeated sort of cry where it’s like the person’s soul is trying to flee them. it’s so hard to be around when I know I can’t do anything to help), animal pain shrieks (they deserve nothing but snuggles), background noise (I have tinnitus, which means I’m already sorting through lots of noise in my head to listen to people, when there’s music playing or someone else talking really loudly in the same room, I have a hard time hearing what people are saying because I can’t sift through all of the stimulus, and I hate having to ask them to repeat it five or six times)

love: waves, rain (also the smell of rain is perfection), blasting music in the car, my sister singing, cats purring, that little whine that dogs do when they want ear scratches, weirdly I like the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric (like that sheet noise that happens when you’re all snugged up in bed and you shift and the topsheet rubs against the bottom sheet. I don’t know why, but I really like that sound), towel-drying hair, shower (any kind of running water, honestly), the voices of people I feel safe around (jane, val, my parents, my sister, my new step-sister, my grandma, my cousin, my aunts and uncles)

Do you believe in ghosts?

To me it’s one of those things where I kind of want to believe, and there are times when I get close, but I don’t really believe in them. I think it’s not entirely impossible that if individual particles are capable of time-travel, that many particles could be time-traveling at the same time in which case an impression of a person or figure could be witnessed, but I don’t really believe in souls, so it’s kind of impossible for me to really believe in the traditional sort of ghosts.

Do you believe in aliens?

Insomuch as do other lifeforms exist outside of Earth, obviously. Perhaps even something resembling animal life, even intelligent life. But intelligent humanoids within our ability to contact? Profoundly unlikely.

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

I love driving, and have driven cross-country six times. I’ve never crashed, though I have been in an accident during one of my cross-country drives where a van pulled into my lane, almost knocked me under a sixteen-wheeler, and then sped off down the next exit when I pulled off to the side. Also of note, I was in a convertible at the time, and if they’d hit me any harder, I probably would have gotten thrown under the trailer and gotten decapitated. 

Last book you read?

Oh, gosh. I couldn’t tell you. I have a tendency to read multiple books at a time and I have been focusing of script reading the past few months. Book-wise, the last few I’ve been cycling through are Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge, The Black Mage series by Rachel E. Carter, and basically any other female protag fantasy I can get my hands on because I love that shit unconditionally. Even the garbage. If it’s staring a female character who defies all expectations put on her by a patriarchal fantasy culture, I will eat it up with my bare fucking hands. SOUND LIKE A STORY YOU KNOW? TELL ME ABOUT IT AND I WILL DEVOUR IT. I also have a soft-spot in my heart for anything fantasy-assassin related.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

I’m indifferent? It doesn’t bother me, but I’m not going to go shove my face in it.

Last movie you saw?

Bohemian Rhapsody, I’m not big on features but it was alright.

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Umbrella Academy as Vines Compilations. 

Do you tend to hold grudges?

Not if it’s for a wrong done to me, but I will hold a grudge forever if I think someone is fucking with people I care about. Like you can treat me like shit and I’ll probably be able to move past it because I have a lot of issues and I need people to like me, but if you fuck with my family (which for me includes my friends, without question) then I will never forgive or forget.

Are you in a relationship right now?

Yes. I am happily committed to my Playstation 4. Ours is a pure love. We stay up late talking into the wee hours of the morn. We rarely have communication issues, but when we do, I immediately seek to rectify the problem. 

So no. And not looking either. Not my jam.

I’ll tag... YOU! IF YOU’RE READING TO THIS POINT THEN YOU ARE CLEARLY INVESTED AND NOW YOU HAVE TO DO IT, I DON’T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST ANNOUNCE THEM IN ALL CAPS.

[anmol099]

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