#Fuck i feel it i’m coming to the feels the urge to make a collage of blorbo stage with mick

[fumifooms]

[k00giie]

They walk in on you while streaming

[y/n as a camgirl] modern collage AU

THANK YOU FOR 800 FOLLOWERS!!!

NSFW !

Characters: Xiao, Gouro

warnings: DubCon, Ruff sex, masturbating, sadistic, cream pie, choking, begging, size kink, denied orgasm, pet play(kinda), biting,  DOM XIAO,  SUB GOURO,

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* *･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.

Your fingers buried deep in your pretty little pussy, mouth hanging open as you gasp and whine for more. The likes roll in with offerings of money along with requests. Rolling your hips against your fingers, you spread your legs wider allowing the camera a better view. Your head leans back as you let out an exaggerated moan to please your viewers. That’s when you heard the doorknob of your dorm rattle. You weren’t expecting your roommate home, she had said she’d be staying over at a friends place, so who the hell could that be!? Snapping your head to the side in a frenzy you gasped once the door inched open.

Xiao

Xiao stood stuck in his place as he watched your complexion burn red. The viewers in your stream wondered what was going on, you knew you had to continue. You had to pay off your student loan after all.

The male watched you wide eyes as you turned away from him back towards your camera and continued to tease yourself like he wasn’t even there. A hardness grew in his pants as his pale cheeks rose in color as well.

Xiao’s golden eyes caught your every move. The way your eyes shut with pleasure and how you cocked your head ever so slightly to the side while moaning. As much as his cock begged to be touched, as much as he wanted to pounce on top of you and fuck you in front of all those people, he couldn’t bring himself to do so... until-

“Xiao!~” You moaned leaning back on your arms as your eyes locked with his. Clenching his jaw he bit his bottom lip before losing to his urges. Rushing over to you, he roughly grabbed your wrists, shoving you down on the bed. His eyes grew dark as he greedily licked his lips, bulge twitching in his pants. You’re eyes were wide with fear and excitement as your pussy dripped with slick throbbing.

Throwing off his pants and boxers, his large cock sprung free, precut bubbling at the pink tip as it begged to be deep in you. You gulped fear kicking in, but Xiao could care less, all he wanted was to feel you clenching around him, begging him to stop, a moaning mess because of him.

Rubbing his tip around your needy hole, then narrowing his eyes he thrusted himself harshly in without any preparation. You let out a scream of pain, your eyes welling up with tears as you bit your bottom lip. Xiao’s animalistic instincts kicked in as his hands grabbed your throat while he rammed into you over and over. Your body shook, you were like a rag doll being thrown around without any say. You choked out moans, gasping for air as his strong veiny hands stayed clamped around your neck like a collar.

Xiao’s hair stuck to his forehead as he released throaty groans and grunts. You cried out his name, begging and pleading for his mercy only for you to be ignored. Your walls felt so good around him, clenching you panted feeling your stomach tighten. “Dont come.” He ordered noticing how your walls began to spasm around his dick. Gulping you lightly nodded, scared of angering him.

Xiao continued as your body shook yearning for relief. Speeding up his pace he ruts into you sloppily, watching how his dick makes a bump in your stomach. His lips curve into a smirk as he leans his head back, sweat dripping down his veiny neck as he thrusts into you once more. “I-Im coming!” You gasped not able to prolong your orgasm any longer. Your walls clenched tightly around his dick as you came all over it, legs twitching. Xiao tilted his head back a throaty moan escaping his lips as he pulled out. Pumping his dick a few times he came all over your face.

His sticky seed shot out, sticking to your face. His thumb pulled your mouth open as you caught some of it on your tongue. . Your hair a wreck and eyes now droopy you wanted nothing more than to pass out from exhaustion. You couldn’t care less that you were a sweaty mess, that your eyeliner was running or that you were covered in Xiao’s cum. You just wanted to sleep. Gulping down his cum you sighed, ready to rest. However Xiao, pocking his dick stiff dick against your lips, had other plans.

Gorou

The smile that lingered on his face soon faded into a expression of pure embarrassment. His face turned red as he tried his best to cover his eyes from the sight of you fully exposed in front of him, eyes looking so vulnerable and body so fuckable.

“I’m just g-grabbing something then I’ll go...” he mumbled ears tilting back and tail between his legs. Gorou did his best to grab his things and go, but unfortunately ended up tripping and falling down in front of you.

Crystal aqua eyes slowly looking up, he was met with your cunt in his face, pretty and dripping with slick just waiting to be touched. Eyes trailing further up your exposed body he was met with your flustered stare, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide with fear of judgement. “I’m s-sorry!” He yelped looking down at his hands that were planted on his knees.

Reaching your foot down you pressed on the bulge in his sweats. Gorou let out a gasp, quickly covering his mouth , eyes daring to meet yours. Your foot continued to press on his bulge, your eyes hungerly watching it grow under your touch. He groaned, thrusting his hips upwards. Your fingers reached out for his ears, taking them between your fingers you rubbed them sensually, Gorou whined for more.

Tilting his chin up you pushed your hips closer to his face before grabbing his hair and yanking him between your legs. “Eat up, puppy.” You remarked clutching his golden locks in your fists. Nose buried deep in your cunt he complied with the order. Slipping his tongue between your lips he lightly trailed his hot tongue over your now sopping heat. You breathed through clenched teeth, rolling your hips against his face. His ears stood up straight and tail twitched as his tongue flicked your swollen clit. Moaning you tugged his hair breathing out a “Good boy” as praise.

Gorou groaned against your pussy as he longed to be touched. The vibrations making you lean your head back in pleasure, hair sticking to your face from the sweat. He slithered his tongue inside you, as he began grinding his own hips to create some sort of friction for his aching dick. His tongue fucked in and out of you, your eyes rolled back as whines and gasps trailed from your lips. 

Gorou felt so hard he could just almost cum in his pants, he felt so shameful but couldnt help it. His dick throbbed in his pants as he began to palm it through his sweats. Your stomach fluttered as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you were close. His tongue sliding in and out of you made your legs quiver as you groaned coming all over his face and down your thighs. Your chests heaved as you fell back onto the bed.

Gorou himself was nearing, as he frantically palmed himself through his sweats. He licked up your juices, biting down on your thighs to hold back moans as he felt himself twitch in his pants. Finally he came into his pants, panting as he released your flesh from between his teeth, a bite mark now appearing on your inner thigh.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and��

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[remingt0nleith]

pretty poison ♥ requested remington leith imagine.

A/N: This imagine was requested here. I hope I made it everything you were looking for. <3 (also the photo collage covers with weheartit photos will forever be a mood) SEXUAL IMAGINE AHEAD.

Also, let me know if you guys want to see more of these characters. An imagine couple in a series maybe?

Pretty Poison was the opening act for Palaye Royale on their U.S. tour. The lead singer, Nessa had been good friends with the three brothers since they met a few years back at a record store. The late-night tours had her becoming closer with Remington. The two singers bonded over song lyrics and vocal techniques. There was a tension brewing between them that the pair couldn’t decipher, was it a friendship or something more?

Throughout all of the late nights they spent together she never told him about her past. The dark thoughts that kept her up at night, the experiences she went through with her ex, all of that stayed locked up inside of her only coming out briefly in songs that she wrote.

Currently, she was watching the brothers perform from backstage, a red solo cup in her hand filled with a liquor a little stronger than how she normally liked it.

Palaye finished their set with the hit song Nervous Breakdown, something Nessa was quite familiar with.

As the boys made their way backstage, Remington grabbed her wrist gently to pull her towards him in a hug, she instinctively ripped her arm away from him and backed up.

His eyes widened and he held his hands up,

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled, fear in his eyes from upsetting his friend.

She shook her head, black bangs falling in her eyes before speaking,

“It’s okay, Rem. You just spooked me.” A lie that fell from her lips so easily, the truth buried far below the surface.

He nodded, grabbing a drink for himself then asked her if she wanted to go work on music back at the hotel.

She agreed and they walked the short distance back to the hotel, stopping a few times for Remington to take photos with lucky fans who happened to spot him on their journey.

Once in the hotel room, they both had a buzz going on from the alcohol flowing through their veins.

Sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, he pulled out his notebook intending to get back to work but the alcohol in his system gave him a wave of confidence.

Remington leaned forward capturing Nessa’s lips against his own in a gentle kiss one in which she returned. Taking this as a good sign he deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers gently, yet once again the other singer pulled away.

“Fuck.” He scooted back, hands running through his short split-dyed hair.

“I totally read the moment wrong,” he confessed, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

Nessa sighed feeling like she needed to tell him the truth or at least as much as she could bear to. She really liked him after all.

“It’s not your fault. Sexual things are just really hard for me after my ex.” She looked down while speaking, playing with a loose thread on her fishnet tights.

Remington stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

“Basically, he fucked me up in a lot of ways and there’s a lot of sexual stuff I can’t even do, like going down on a guy. It’s just hard.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she expected him to get up and leave, it was what every guy had done when she told them. No one wanted to be with a girl that was so broken especially when it came to sex stuff.

“I’m so sorry,” Remington whispered, his heart breaking in his chest. How could any guy treat her badly was the thought racing through his head.

She looked up and met his gaze, feeling strong enough to continue.

“It’s part of the reason why I can’t be vocal during sex. I know guys usually want girls that are loud and speak up in bed, but I just can’t.” She admitted.

Remington held his arms open which she accepted and crawled into his arms, feeling safe within his hold. After a few moments, he whispered,

“You don’t need to feel like you’re not good enough. Everything about you is perfect to me. If we were together I’d never force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”

Her heart filled with a mix of safety and happiness.

She pulled away enough to look up at him her bright green eyes meeting his dark ones, she leaned forward to kiss him this time being the one to deepen it.

As their tongues moved against each other passionately she crawled into his lap.

He pulled away after a moment to check on her,

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek.

She nodded, smiling as she took notice of his swollen lips.

“I think I just needed to tell you that. If we do this, I can’t talk during it. Can we come up with another way to have a safe word?”

“Of course. How about if you want to stop you grab my wrist and if you want me to keep going you pull my hair?” He asked wanting nothing more than to make her comfortable.

Her eyes lit up at the idea and lust swirled inside of her, seeing this side of Remington was so sexy.

“That sounds like a good plan to me. Now shut up and take your clothes off,” she giggled standing up from his lap.

He didn’t have to be told twice and the pair undressed quickly. Fishnet tights and skinny jeans were tossed aside before the light was clicked off.

Remington pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately before laying her on the bed.

“Remember the safe gestures?” He questioned before moving to kiss her neck.

Letting him know she did and also wanting him to keep doing that, she tugged on his short dyed hair.

He obliged licking and sucking on the soft skin leaving behind a faint pink mark.

He kissed his way down her body, moving his hand up to be close to her so she had easy access to grab his wrist if needed.

Once he made his way between her thighs, he looked up at her in the darkness.

Nessa replied by reaching down and tugging on his hair, urging him to continue.

He made himself busy by sliding his tongue across her wetness, causing her to moan out softly, sure she couldn’t talk but moaning was a different story especially when a sexy singer was doing that, she thought to herself.

She buried her fingers in the soft tendrils of his black and blonde hair, hoping he got the hint to keep going, which he did.

His tongue moved slowly across her clit, teasing the sensitivity of it.

She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensations as his mouth and tongue worked expertly against her most tender area.

The pleasure built up and she knew she was going to come soon so she tugged at his hair once more to let him know as her moans got louder. She bit down on her lip as she came her legs quivering from the warmth and wetness of the singer’s tongue.

Remington pulled away, licking his lips as he moved back up to check on her, his eyes searching hers in the darkness.

She grinned before leaning forward to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” She whispered, before biting down on his lower lip in a teasing but intimate gesture.

He let out a rough laugh, leaning over to grab a condom, once situated he slid himself into her, both moaning out in pleasure.

Nessa once again threaded her fingers through his hair as his hips moved against hers, the sensation of his large member filling her up with every thrust.

He buried his face against her neck to lick and suck on her flesh as he picked up the pace, fucking her into the hotel mattress.

The two lovers moaned into the darkness as the pleasure blossomed within them.

Remington coming with a low growl, Nessa tightened her grip on the short locks of hair and moaned out as she came, shaking beneath the singer.

Once everything was cleaned up, the duo laid together in bed.

“I’m so happy I gave this a chance.” She whispered into the darkness.

Remington agreed, once again happy that she shared such a vulnerable part of her past with him.

“Me too and don’t think this was a one-night stand either. You’re definitely not getting rid of me now.” He admitted.

xx

[brattyfics]

— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @amorestevens​

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

[rosespecting]

Volatility - A Light Read

As a Seer, my relationship with my aspect is something I hold extremely highly. Light has been my driving force for as long as I can remember, even if I haven’t always been true to its calling. I have at times acted against its best interests, and have given it less room to grow inside me in a misguided pursuit of it.

As with any other aspect, Light is dangerous when overindulged, As much as I’d like to, I can’t claim that players of my cloth are more likely to do such a thing. The urge I feel to identify Light players as unique in some way is a distinct part of the problem I’ll be addressing in this post. That said, it is the only aspect I’ve ever truly lived in, so I’ll have to take from that perspective for me to remain honest with you all. Strap in, kiddos, we’re going for a ride and it’s not going to be pretty.

Purity is a concept I am far too familiar with. The act of thoroughly distilling one’s life is an idea that has passed through my mind countless times, and even when I’ve not been actively considering it, I’ve aimed for it on some level. I have desperately chased after this goal, spurred on by my desire for perfection in myself and others. It has harmed just about everyone I’ve ever known. I have harmed just about everyone I’ve ever known.

To some extent, that’s inevitable. People hurt other people, they make up for it, and things move on. That said, this isn’t an

actually, you know what? no fancy writing shit, no clever word shit, no smug deliverance of bullshit everyone already knows so people think it’s profound. gonna fucking talk to you all. just going to talk at you I guess. not going to fuck around with this pretentious shit for this one.

I’ve had this desire my entire life to talk like a textbook, but five years or so ago I realized that was stupid and have suppressed it ever since. I talk like a normal person, or as close to that as I can. and so I come here, back to my roots, back to this world of classpecting and what’s the first thing I do? I give myself an excuse to go back to how I was when I first got involved in it. it’s all just rose lalonde semi-rp, see? it’s clever.

except it’s not. and you know it’s not. you the reader, who does not know me (except those who do, hi, I’m doing alright don’t worry about it), who knows only this image I put up on screen, you know it’s all bullshit. you’re smart like that.

even just that transition I did three paragraphs ago feels so pretentious, like damn you’re really gonna keep in all of that early stuff so you can show people you still know how to be capital c Cool but also now you’re doing this so you seem all relatable and shit and you’ve got this sick mic drop right in the middle man that’s cool. what a cool tumblr user.

but all of this shit? this is just Light. these fucking theatrics, like I’ve got someone to impress, but it’s really all for me. nobody needs the bullshit, it just makes me feel good. scratches an itch. but it’s not even a good itch? that’s the whole point of all of this. it’s not a good itch. it’s an itch that the more you scratch it the more it spreads and eventually you’re not scratching but tearing at skin and eventually it runs out of places to spread on your person so it spreads to others and next thing you know you’re sitting with their blood on your hands and they’re like damn dude what the fuck and you don’t even really understand because you’ve been doing this for so long, you’re so deep in it that it just seems normal.

but it’s not. and you, “you” you not metaphorical “me” you, you know it’s not normal. on the outside, it’s obvious. obviously this toxic Lighty bullshit is bad for me. obviously it’s not good to give everything I have for Light. and so I pull back, and that’s good, that works, and now I’m here. I’m here, now, in this place where I’m indulging in every aspect, where I have this lovely collage of all the different pieces of perception, and that’s great! but just because I’m not overly indulging in Light doesn’t mean the ways I am indulging are good.

there’s volatility at the core of my relationship with Light. and looking around, finally actually seeing the world for what it is, I’m at a loss. because I know myself. I know that Light is what draws me. I know that I am at my happiest with it. but after so long the good parts and the bad have stuck together so hard that I’m not sure how to take them apart.

so, what, do I give up? toss all of it and find some other aspect to go after? realistically it’d be Void, and my relationship with Void has changed a lot in the last couple years, and I see that possibility far more than I ever did before. but I also know that I’m not that. I know that being that wouldn’t be good for me either. so no, I don’t give up. and you shouldn’t either.

no matter what the fuck happens, no matter how bad it gets, it’s never a bad idea to try to heal. jumping off a ship with a hole in it just brings you to the ocean faster. patch it. or something, god, see I’m doing it again. with the metaphors and the theatrics and shit, idfk.

I’m changing. I’m a changing person, and that’s like. weird, I guess. and extremely normal. but idk. honestly I don’t really know anymore what I wanted to say with all of this. I have had a terrible time being a Light player, and I imagine all of you have had a terrible time being whatever you are. it always starts out rough. and maybe you’re further along than I am, or further behind, but we’re all heading one way you know? there’s no going backwards, even if we want there to be. you’re going to move forward. so just try to move upwards, too.

there’s no moral to this post, really, just wanted to sort out my own thoughts. I’ve always done that best in front of a crowd, so thanks for being my crowd.

please take care of yourself. let yourself be good to yourself and others. even if it’s scary, because fuck change is scary, it’s... it’s good. it can be good, at least. just get some good change idk i’m not ending this on a fancy thing that’s antithetical to the entire point bye

[johnsamericano]

hi sunshine!! if you're taking requests right now, could i please request a collage roommates to lovers smut au with mark? 🥺 tysm!!!

Hope you like it bubs 🥰

“Wanna play uno?” You asked your roomate, coming out of your room with the box of cards between your hands. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know you had people coming over.”

“Y/n, nice to see you!” Chenle greeted you with a big smile. “Come join us, we’re listening to Renjun’s juicy gossip.” There were two bottles of wine in the middle of the coffee table and a couple of glasses scattered around the floor.

“Hi.” You greeted Mark while sitting between him and a flustered Jisung. “Hi Jisungie.”

He just nodded, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“So you know Johnny from philosophy? Well it turns out he’s dating Ten, from ballet! Everyone in my class wants to be him.” He chuckled.

“I mean, John Hyung is pretty handsome. If he asked me on a date I’d definitely give it a thought.” Jaemin commented casually. “Don’t you agree, y/n?”

The whole room smiled cheekily for some reason you didn’t know.

“Jaemin, don’t tease her.” Mark scolded. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just trying to annoy you.”

“No worries, Mark. It’s fine.” You placed your hand on his shoulder. “And yes, Johnny is capable of making even the straightest man doubt about his sexuality.”

You could feel Mark lowering his head.

“So you’re more into sexy guys?” Donghyuck lifted his eyebrows.

“I guess so.” You shrugged.

“Oh, bad news for someone.” Haechan laughed at your confused expression.

“What do you mean?” Everyone remained silent as you grew even more curious with every passing second.

“Let’s play uno.” Mark suddenly interrupted, taking the card deck from your hands.

The game started off normal, just a usual round of uno where Jeno won. But then the boys decided to spice it up. The winner would assign the player with the most cards a punishment.

“That’s not fair, I always lose!” Mark complained, holding a big stack of cards from the previous round.

“Well then, do your best to not lose.”

But everyone knew that was impossible, Mark had some sort of curse where he’d get all the bad cards.

“Uno!” Chenle screamed while placing his card on top of the other ones. He winked at Mark.

“Why are you shaking?” You asked the boy beside you, holding his arm softly.

“I-It’s nothing, I’m just afraid Chenle will make me drink water from the toilet or something like that.”

“Oh, believe me. That’s not gonna be the punishment.”

Chenle won that round. He cracked his knuckles with a devilish smile in his face.

“Meet me at your room, Mark.”

“Is he gonna beat him up or something?” You asked Jisung as soon as you heard the door closing.

“I don’t think so, noona.” He replied, still refusing to look at your face.

You took one of the wine glasses on the floor and poured some of the red liquid inside it. You took a sip of it, enjoying the sour flavor.

“Wow, this is really good. Where did you buy it?”

“Walmart.” Jaemin asked while pouring a glass for himself.

“The next time we go grocery shopping, I’ll buy one of these.”

The sound of the door opening again announced the arrival of Mark and Chenle, your roomate holding something behind his back while Chenle pushed him slightly.

“Come on, dude. We’ll leave you alone.” He signaled the boys to stand up.

“What’s going on?” You furrowed your eyebrows, standing up as well, the glass of wine still between your hands. The front door closed after all the boys had exited your shared apartment.

“I- I...” He kept stuttering, occasionally taking a look at your face.

“You’re acting suspicious.”

He finally took in a deep breath and extended a heart shaped box in your direction, bending his torso just like the anime girls did when confessing to someone.

“Huh?” You stared at him, trying to figure out the situation before replacing the glass of wine with the box. There was a small note folded on top of the lid.

Mark ran away and locked himself inside his room before you even had the chance to read the note. You let him be, already overwhelmed by the situation. Your heart picked up the face as you unfolded the piece of paper.

~Be my valentine? :)

A smile creeped up your lips as you read his words over and over again. You opened the lid to find a bunch of chocolates. Some of them were melted from being in Mark’s room and not in the fridge.

You placed the lid back on and left the box on the coffee table. You didn’t bother to knock on his door.

“Mark?” There was a bulge on his bed. “Are you still alive?” You walked closer to the mattress, sliding yourself inside the covers with him like you usually did when you had a nightmare.

“Don’t mock me, please.”

“Turn around.” You poked his back repeatedly until he finally faced you, his face as red as a tomato. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I wanted to give them to you on Valentine’s Day, but then you went out with some guy and I figured out it wasn’t such a great idea. But fucking Chenle forced me to give them to you.” The palms of his hands covered his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be.” He felt like crying. “How dare you give me melted chocolates as a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Huh?” He retrieved his hands, confused at your smiley face.

“And the worst part is that you’re like a week late. You’re gonna have to make it up for me, Mr. Lee.” Your face inched closer to his.

“Does this mean-”

“Just kiss me, Mark.” He hesitated before connecting his lips with your own.

He felt in heaven with your soft lips moving against his, your playful tongue intruding his mouth and fighting for dominance. His hand cupped your butt by accident, he tried moving it but you held it against your soft flesh. His hips started rutting against yours, stealing a gasp or two from you.

“Are you okay with this?”

“Yes.” You mumbled into his neck. “Stop teasing and fuck me already.” Mark was taken aback by your boldness, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he liked it.

“As you wish.” He got rid of your clothing with urge, separating his body from yours slightly to admire your naked form, the source of all his fantasies. “How can you be so perfect?” He asked while tracing the valley of your breasts, slowly going down to touch your labia.

His dick was impossibly hard and ached for relief. You pulled Mark closer, his arms supporting his weight as you pushed his length inside your hole.

“Fuck.” He cursed at your tightness, your walls strangling his pulsating member. “Can I move?”

You nodded. With his knees caging your legs and his hands on your sides, he started moving his hips against yours. The stretch was amazing, he wasn’t the biggest, but it felt like he was made just for you, reaching for all the right spots.

“I’m not gonna last for much longer.” He admitted shyly.

“Don’t worry, baby. Me too.” He eyes your swollen bud, screaming for attention. His thumb started drawing circles on top of the sensitive skin, pulling in for anothe kiss.

Your legs started trembling as your high took over your senses, accidentally biting his lip and causing him to smile. He shot his seed deep inside you, collapsing on top of your body as soon as you were done.

“Was this enough to make up for the melted chocolates?” He kissed your collarbone tenderly, smiling against the hot skin.

“No, you still owe me a box of chocolates.”

“I’ll buy you the whole store if that’s what you want.” He pulled out, turning to lay on his side with you between his arms. “But only if you agree to go on a date with me.”

“What kind of chocolates are we talking about?” He gasped, pretending to be offended. “I’m just kidding.”

“I like you y/n.” He confesses sincerely, looking at you with big doe eyes. “Do you like me too?”

“I like you too, Mark Lee.”

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 1.5

portraiture and speculation

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, slight angst, swearing, and idk libraries?? ‘Tis not a heavy one

AN: So this is a mini-chapter, entirely Levi’s POV, hopefully to give some more background/insight into what homeboy’s thinking. And we get some Hange in this chapter which I had so much fun writing:)) Thank you for the wonderful comments on the last chapter and again, please don’t hesitate to reblog/comment/send in an ask with any suggestions, questions, or feedback!! ~valkyrie

(read Part 1 here)

In the hierarchy of genres established by the Academy, history painting was at the top and portraiture came next. Artists aspired to elevate the importance of…

Levi takes a slow sip of tea while his eyes glide over the article in front of him: the latest reading for his European Art History class. His mouth twitches at the bitter taste of over-brewed Earl Grey. The library cafe never seems to be able to get tea right, but he was desperate for some caffeine to push him through a couple more hours of studying.

...female members of the royal family have been depicted as goddesses…

Fuck. Levi’s brain had gotten away from him again. I have no idea what I just read.

With a deep sigh and adjustment of his posture, Levi starts the paragraph again.

In the hierarchy of genres established by the Academy, history painting was at the top and portraiture…

The portrait in his room flickers into his mind’s eye. Nearly complete, his mother’s smiling face stares back at him. The stormy grey of her eyes had taken Levi a week to remember and another to perfect. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he sits cross-legged on his bed facing her and wondering if it’s truly an accurate depiction. In his best memories, she is warm and smiling and beautiful. Levi can’t help but wonder if somehow he’s written over his mother’s true features with an invention of his own; some sort of collage of the kind women in his life. He had caught himself painting Hange’s wide smile instead of his mother’s once, and he hadn’t worked on the portrait for a month after. If he was going to ever do it justice, he had to be certain it was as close to his actual memory as possible.

The end of the page jars Levi out of a reverie, and once again he hasn’t retained any of what he just read. Leaning back in his chair with a frustrated groan, he allows the ambient noise of the library to drift back into his consciousness.

The beeping from the front desk as a librarian scans books. The thunk of someone’s metal water bottle on a table. A spirited discussion between two professors in line at the cafe. Levi can feel his will to work slipping from his grasp with each passing moment.

“No use trying to study with your mind caught up in more important things,” your voice seeps through the cracks of his work ethic. It had been six weeks into living with each other when you caught Levi staring into space at his desk instead of working yet again and decided to do something about it. Your pretty hands had guided his own away from the laptop and closed it with a finality even your obstinate roommate couldn’t argue against.

“We’re going out for sushi,” you’d insisted. “And then you’re going to watch your favorite show and go to bed.”

You were right. It’s exactly what Levi needed, both then and now.

“Hey, shortstack!” A pair of hands lands heavily on his shoulders, and Levi has to quell the urge to break Hange’s nose with the back of his hand. He settles for a steely glare over his shoulder, greeted by her energetic grin.

“If you touch me without warning like that again I will not hesitate to put you in the hospital.” Hange doesn’t seem perturbed by his deadpan delivery, but nonetheless removes her hands and holds them up in surrender.

“I come in peace! Just thought I’d say hi before my lab.” She pulls out the chair next to him and plonks down but doesn’t bother to put down her backpack or unwrap her scarf. “How’s the studying going?”

“I was just finishing up. Can’t concentrate in this environment.” He gestures vaguely to their surroundings.

“Yeah, no kidding. I’m surprised to find you here, actually, don’t you usually hole up in an empty studio?”

“Eh, figured a change of pace might help. Clearly not.”

“Great, then you can walk me to class! I’ve been meaning to talk to you anyway.” Hange bounces out of her seat and flits her gaze around the library as Levi packs up his stuff.

As they leave the library together, frigid winter air swirls around them, kicking up a flurry of snow from the snowbank by the sidewalk. Levi zips up his jacket and stuffs his hands into its pockets. Hange is unusually quiet as they walk towards the sciences building. Levi hazards a glance and sees her deep in thought, chin tucked into her scarf and glasses fogged with breath.

“So are you gonna tell me what you wanted to talk about or am I supposed to guess?” He nudges her with an elbow and she jumps.

“Oh! That’s right. It’s about your delightfully brilliant roommate,” she starts, grinning at Levi once more.

“What about her?”

“How has she been doing? Y’know, since the breakup?” Hange’s tone is almost too casual, and it makes Levi take a second to carefully consider his answer.

“She’s been fine, I think. Going to class, eating, studying.” He pauses to think again. “She has been staying up late a lot. Why do you ask?”

“That’s just it, she looked exhausted this morning in our seminar. Like she hadn’t slept at all.” Her quizzical gaze is fixed on him as he considers this.

Come to think of it, you had been looking quite tired recently. He had attributed it to upcoming exams, but it could certainly be deeper than that. For the past two weeks since the breakup, Levi had noted light from under your bedroom door every night as he went to bed. And yet, you were consistently awake before him, already on your first or second cup of coffee.

“You’re right. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he affirms, setting his mouth in a thin, worried line. While Levi was no stranger to insomnia, he did have strategies to help himself get enough sleep even when his mind couldn’t rest. Chamomile tea, meditation, sleeping pills when it really came down to it. Does she have those resources? he wonders.

They arrive outside the sciences building and Levi stops just short of the stairs, Hange turning to face him.

“Will you check up on her, please? Make sure she hasn’t actually been turned into a vampire?” Her tone is joking, but Levi can see the worry behind Hange’s eyes as he gives her a nod.

“Of course. I’ll text you later. Good luck in your lab.” He waves her off as she practically skips up the steps, giving him an impish salute.

“Have a good one, shortstop!”

As Levi turns back to begin walking home, worry sets in his chest with a winter-like frigidity. He thought you had been doing fine. 

I thought she was glad to be rid of that jackass.

-- (read part 2 here)

[justahopelessssromantic]

Finding Hope: Part 3

A/N: Hey guys here’s another update for you ❤️ I’ve honestly had this like 99% done for a while now so I thought I’d finish it up and get it posted. I hope you all enjoy and as always thank you so very much for reading, it means the world to me 🥰💖

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list or removed please let me know

Finding Hope Masterlist

Thank you so much @carlaangel86 for making me another wonderful and beautiful collage 😘

*credit to the original owners of the pictures*

Warnings: Angst; violence and mentions of drug use

Word Count: 4933

Daniella had spent the first few weeks of living in Santo Padre while working at Romero Brother’s Scrapyard just getting acclimated to her new life outside of prison and this crazy new role as guardian to Hope. She took to her job quickly, picking everything up with ease. The work wasn’t exciting but it was a job and most importantly a chance to get to know Bishop better. Plus she had a great view of the guys while they worked. If she was going to be around men so much she might as well get to enjoy it a little bit. She had spent the past three years surrounded by women. She deserved a little bit of eye candy. And boy were they easy on the eyes. Especially Ezekiel Reyes with his incredibly buff biceps. 

For her EZ was the safest option. He was attractive, had a body built like a god and she had no feelings or urges to pursue him in any way. He was simply just a pleasant view. Nothing more. 

Daniella rested her head against her arm as her other hand fidgeted with the pen between her fingers. Her focus was currently on EZ as he did the scut work around the yard. Just behind him was Angel, his sponsor, watching him as he worked and he had a cigarette break. Angel looked up catching Daniella’s eyes as they flicked from EZ to him. 

She bit her lip, quickly looking away and back down to the schedule which she was supposed to be filling out for the next month. She prayed he would not come her way but of course with Angel that never worked. 

“Working hard?” Angel asked as he stepped into the small office smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. Fuck Daniella could really use a smoke right now. 

Daniella ignored him as she tried to focus on the schedule. “Is there something you need? If you want time off you have to run it by Bishop fist.” It was best to keep things curt with Angel. If she gave him an inch he’d take a whole fucking mile. 

Angel also ignored her comment continuing with what he wanted to say. “I see you’ve been checking out my baby bro.” He wasn’t stupid, he saw it. How could he not when he was always watching her? He’d watch her watch EZ and feel that familiar resentment towards his younger brother. Of course Daniella wouldn't give him the time of day but would ogle over Ezekiel, the golden boy. 

“Don’t you have work to do?” Daniella asked, finally looking up at him. 

“Don’t you?” 

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Daniella set her pen down giving up on getting anything done here. 

“Looks like you were too busy drooling over EZ." Angel leaned back against the wall. "I don’t think that’s in the job description.”

“And you drooling over me is?” 

"Well you're much better looking than all those assholes I've seen everyday for years." Angel stated matter of factly. 

Daniella rolled her eyes. She was about to ask Angel to leave when Chucky came in behind Angel. 

“There’s a man here for you.” Chucky said, ignoring Angel as he addressed Dani.

“A man?” Angel asked, looking between Chucky and Dani. Who the hell was this man looking for her?

Daniella’s mind began running around who all could possibly be here for her. She didn’t know enough people in Santo Padre for it to be anyone here which meant only one thing. Whoever it was was from her past. “Did he say who he was, Chucky?” She asked him, also ignoring Angel. 

“No, just said he was looking for you.”

“Well what did he look like?” Daniella was trying to figure out if whoever it was was someone she should face or if she should bail out the back. 

“Tall, muscular, blond hair, very handsome.” Chucky smiled describing the man. 

Angel did not like the description of this guy at all. He hadn’t even seen the guy but the mother fucker sounded like a real douche. And handsome? Fuck that. 

“Fuck,” Daniella muttered standing up from her chair. It was Reilly, her ex, had to be. Sooner or later someone was bound to find her. She was not surprised at all that it was him.

“Everything okay?” Angel asked as he watched her head for the door. She was already in a mood as she always was when Angel was around but she seemed even more upset, almost caught off guard by the surprise visitor.

“Yeah, just fucking peachy.” She mumbled before stepping out past Chucky. 

Angel and Chucky watched her walk away from the office towards the front gate. “Who the fuck is this guy Chucky?” Angel asked, not taking his eyes away from Dani.

“I think he’s Hope’s father,” Chucky informed Angel watching Dani as well. Based off of her reaction and the picture the man had showed him he was almost certain that’s who he was. “He showed me a picture of him and Daniella. They looked good together, happy.”

Angel didn’t like this one bit. 

Daniella made her way to the gate where she found Reilly waiting. Her blood was boiling as she stared him down. He just grinned at her smugly, his dimples showing. She wanted to smack them and that smile right off his stupd face. 

“You look good.” He said looking her up and down. It was true, she looked better than he had ever seen her. Prison was hell he knew that but it also got her out of her toxic life. If she wasn’t going to let him help her at least she got out somehow. 

“What are you doing here?” Daniella asked, crossing her arms. She wanted to make it very known to him that he was not wanted nor welcome here. 

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah? Well you’ve found me.” 

“Your mom sent me to find you. She’s in rehab. They found her in her home after she OD’d.” Reilly watched Danilla’s expressions carefully looking for anything that may give her away. “They also found Billy at the bottom of the stairs in rough shape. He’s in a coma, for now.”

“And?” Daniella raised her eyebrow. “Is there a reason you’re telling me all this?” She already knew all this although the part about her mother and Billy being alive was new. 

She was there afterall. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Rowena asked looking at Daniella as she stared at the home she grew up in, the place that held so much pain for her. 

“I’m sure. Thanks Ro, but I have to do this alone.” Daniella looked back giving Rowena a smile before exiting her vehicle and making her way up the cracked sidewalk to the front door. 

Without knocking she opened the door entering the house the stench almost knocking her out. She stopped in the doorway, her body filling with dread. She hoped to never step foot in this place again but here she was. 

Just get in, get your money, and get the fuck out she reminded herself. 

She pushed through making her way down the hallway. She tried to push the memories to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to remember the time her mother first shoved the needle in her or the time when Billy broke her arm or when Reilly told her he loved her. She didn’t want to remember any of it. The house held pieces of her she wished were dead, things she longed to forget. 

The TV played faintly from the living room, she could hear the Price Is Right’s theme song. Cigar smoke billowed out from the room. She assumed Billy was in there. He was a creature of habit. Every day he’d watch his show getting high. If she was lucky she could make her way past him without him even knowing. 

Unfortunately she wasn’t lucky. 

“Daniella, is that you?” She heard his gruff voice call out. 

She should have ignored him. All she had to do was keep walking but no she stopped to entertain him. “Who else would it be?” 

Billy smirked spreading his legs open as he leaned back into his recliner. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” He said, patting his leg. “If you’re a good girl and do as I say I might just give you a treat.”

His smile was sickening. 

She gulped, swallowing the bile that creeped up her throat. How many times had she heard that before? No she wouldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t. She wouldn’t go there. “Where’s my mother?” 

“How the fuck should I know?” He snarled, putting out his cigar. “Doesn’t matter. She never minded sharing before.”

Daniella squeezed her trembling hands into fists. Just breathe, she reminded herself. She should have never come here. She wasn’t going to do this. She made her way further down the hall and to the kitchen. 

The smell was much worse there. 

The small room was filled with used dishes, trash, and needles. How anyone could live like this was beyond her. She couldn’t believe she used to live in these very same conditions. 

Never again, this wasn’t her life anymore. This wasn’t who she was. 

She opened the drawer beside the sink that was filled with dirty disgusting water. She scrunched her nose up at the sight before pulling all the junk out of the drawer. 

“It’s not in there.” Billy was now standing in the doorway watching her, his eyes on her ass. She really had grown into quite the woman. 

Daniella tried to ignore the chill that ran through her body as the hair on the back of her neck rose up. Of course she should have known that they would have found her hiding space eventually. Taking a deep breath she turned around to look at him. “I want my money Billy. I earned that shit.” 

“After everything your mother and I did for you, you come in here expecting more?” Billy took a step towards her. If she wasn't already backed into the counter she would have taken one herself. ”You always were an ungrateful little bitch.”

“Just give me my money and I’ll be out of your hair.” Daniella said through clenched teeth. 

“You should have been out of my hair already if only the stupid bitches had done their job,” Billy smiled as he approached Daniella loving how she instinctively tried to make herself smaller as if she could disappear. “You know what they say. You want a job done well, you gotta do it yourself.”

Billy lunged for Daniella. Daniella barely dodged him before he caught her slamming her against the counter before shoving her head into the sink full of water holding her under. Daniella gasped and sputtered as the water filled her lungs. She grasped onto the side of the sink desperately feeling around for anything. Her hand finally felt something. She grabbed a hold of the handle swinging the object back colliding it with Billy just enough to get him off of her. 

Daniella gasped and coughed as she clutched onto the sink. She had never been so thankful for fresh air in her life. She didn’t nearly have enough time to gather herself. Before Billy could have the mind to try again she quickly fled past him where he had been clutching his head. 

“Get back here bitch!” Billy called out coming after her. 

Daniella frantically made her way through the house stealing a glance back every now and then. Billy wasn’t far behind. She quickly rounded the corner and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. She was just at the top when she felt Billy’s large hand grab her shoulder yanking her back. Daniella grabbed onto the railing to keep herself from going down. Her back slammed against it as she heard the loud thud from Billy going down, tumbling down the stairs. 

Looking back she stared at his still body for a moment in shock. The adrenaline was pumping through her body as she tried to determine if he had been breathing or not. She really hoped he fucking wasn't. 

She stared a little longer in disgust before heading back up the rest of the stairs. She was here for her money and she'd be damned if she left empty handed. 

She made her way down the hall before she reached the second to last door and stopped. She looked at the beat up door. The paint was chipping and the handle was still busted from Reilly. 

Just more shit she didn't want to remember. 

There was no time for taking a trip down memory lane. 

Daniella finally made it to her mother’s room. It was quiet and no one came out after Billy so she assumed she was either not home or just so out of it she didn’t hear or care about the noise the two created. Slowly Daniella opened the door peeking in. She cursed as she saw her mother’s figure across the floor by the foot bed with a needle still in her arm. 

She nudged her with her foot once and got nothing. Next she leaned over looking for any signs of life but didn’t find any. “I told you that shit would kill you one day.” She spat glaring down at her mother’s lifeless body. 

Stepping over her mother she opened the closet in search of Billy’s money. What she wasn’t expecting to find was the soft brown eyes of a small girl who couldn’t be any older than three.  

“Jesus Christ,” Daniella muttered, squatting down to be level with her. Hope just stared back at her, thumb securely in her mouth with her bear wrapped in her arms. Her eyes were puffy and full of tears. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” She told her, reaching out towards her. It took a moment but eventually Hope removed her hand from her mouth and took Daniella’s hand. 

Daniella couldn’t just leave her there, so she did the only thing any decent human being would do. She got herself and Hope the hell out of there.   

Reilly sighed running his hand through his hair. “I’m telling you this as a friend.”

Daniella scoffed. Reilly had some nerve coming here and claiming to be her friend. He didn't care about her and never would. He proved that a long time ago. 

“Don’t be like that Dani. You don’t exactly have a lot of friends right now. If I were you I wouldn't drive away the few you do.” He warned her. She may not be able to see it but he loved her. Everything he did was for her, to protect her. 

“I don’t need anyone and I certainly don’t need you Reilly. I’m just fine on my own.”

 “And you’re on your own?” 

“Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone? Because our ship sailed the fuck away a long time ago and it’s never coming back.” She wasn’t stupid. She knew Reilly was still hung up on her. In his mind he was just the hero, rescuing her, but at the end of the day he fucking used her and Daniella does not forgive easily. 

“No, fuck no.” Reilly chuckled. He knew there was no one. Daniella wouldn’t let anyone in enough to enter her life like that and certainly any poor sucker she did wouldn’t last long. “I’m asking about Hope.” 

“Hope?” 

“Don’t play dumb Dani. I’m not stupid.” Reilly stuck his thumbs in his belt loops switching his weight on his feet. “Look Joselyn doesn’t know she’s gone yet but when she does she’s going to come looking for you first and Billy, well you better just pray he never wakes up and finds out about the missing money.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

Reilly nodded seeing right through her. Daniella was stubborn, he knew that better than anyone. “Just so you know I’ll be around for a while. I like Santo Padre. It’s a good change of scenery.” 

“Do whatever it is your cold dead heart desires. I don’t care.” But she did care. The last thing she needed was Reilly around watching her. 

“I’ll see you around Dani.”

“Hopefully not.” 

“Who the fuck is that?” Bishop asked nodding towards Dani and the man who was talking to her. He squinted his eyes trying to see him better in the bright sunlight. 

“No idea,” Creeper said leaning forward onto the picnic table. All the guys were outside watching, trying to get a read on the guy and the situation.

Angel came over to the guys with Chucky just behind him. Pulling out his pack of cigarettes he looked back at Daniella and the man before addressing his brothers. “Chucky says he’s the father. Dani didn’t seem too happy to have him here.” Although Angel was sure he was more upset by the surprise visitor than her. 

“The piece of shit?” Bishop asked, staring down Reilly. “Did he tell you anything Chucky?”

“Nope. Just that he was looking for Daniella.” Chucky watched the tense expression on Bishop’s face and then looked over to the two as well. There was something there Chucky just wasn’t quite sure what yet. 

“What are they saying?” Angel asked leaning down next to Coco who was watching intently as well.

“Does it look like I can fucking read lips to you?’” 

“I don’t know. You’re the fucking sniper.” Angel shot back. “You’re supposed to have good eyesight and shit.”  

“Maybe if you two idiots would shut up we could hear.” Hank told the two taking a smoke from Angel. 

Taza patted Bishop on the shoulder leaning down to his ear. “You okay brother?” 

“Just fucking peachy.” Bishop muttered, not taking his eyes off Reilly who he could see just past Daniella whose back was to the men. If looks could kill he’d be a dead man. 

Daniella watched Reilly leave until he was completely out of sight. She finally relaxed a little having him gone but she couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Her mother and Billy were supposed to be dead. Everything would be so much easier if they were dead. Now she was really fucked. 

Why couldn’t they just fucking stay dead?

Daniella shot a quick text to Letty telling her to stay in today and keep Hope home. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do now with Reilly here. She couldn't hide Hope forever but she couldn’t trust him to not betray her again. 

Shoving her phone back in her pocket she turned around to find all the guys looking her way. Just as soon as she caught them they all turned away pretending to be preoccupied by anything at all, well all except Bishop, Taza, and Angel. They didn’t care if they got caught watching. 

Daniella’s eyes met Bishop’s for a second. There was something there, something that made her uneasy. She wasn’t threatened or put off by him. He just looked caring, loving, protective even. He made her feel all the things a father should and that made her nervous. 

Fuck she was making things up in her mind. It was a terrible idea to work for Bishop. She should have gone somewhere else, anywhere but here.

She didn't feel like talking to any of the guys right now. She knew what they would have a million questions and she needed some time to clear her head before she talked to any of them. She headed back towards the office and sure enough before long Angel was beside her. 

"You okay?" He asked her. He watched her face as she kept her eyes dead ahead refusing to look his way. "Who was that guy? Was he bothering you?" 

“Not now Reyes.” She snapped, slamming the door to the office behind her. Leaning back against the door she ran her hands over her face. She wanted to scream but was afraid that would draw even more unwanted attention to her. Instead she just muttered another fuck plopping down in her chair before burying her face in her arms on the desk. 

Of course when she finally felt like she was settling down, like her and Hope could make a home here, that’s when everything had to go to shit. 

Daniella looked up as she heard the door to the office open. She was sure she would see Chucky or Angel but to her surprise it was Bishop. 

“That guy giving you trouble?” He asked her, walking up to the desk. 

“No he’s harmless.” It wasn’t Reilly she was most concerned about right now but her mother and Billy. They were the real threat. Reilly was just a pawn to them. “Do you mind if I go home early? I got everything done for the day.” 

“Go ahead, take the rest of the day.” He gave her a smile. Even though she said Reilly wasn’t a threat he could see she was rattled by him or whatever it was he said. “Chucky can handle the rest. I’ll have Angel escort you home. Just to make sure there are no problems.” Angel had already approached Bishop about taking her home. 

Daniella couldn’t believe he was sending a babysitter with her, especially Angel. “That’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine.” She insisted. 

“He’ll just make sure you get there alright then head back here.” Quite frankly he didn’t care if Dani wanted this or not. He didn’t like that asshole out here today. Maybe he couldn’t protect her all those years ago but he sure as hell was going to do all he could to protect her now.  

“Why? I can handle Reilly.” 

“Because that’s what we do around here Dani. We look after each other.” Yes there was a little more to it because of their connections but he wasn’t doing anything he wouldn’t do for anyone else who worked with them or were a part of their family. “Just do this for me. It’ll give me one less thing to worry about.”

Dani didn’t have the energy to argue right now. She weighed her options a moment thinking of any other possible person who could escort her home but she assumed that if Bishop suggested Angel that he already went through the options himself. “Okay, fine.”

“You know you really don’t have to walk me all the way to my door.” Dani told Angel as they climbed the steps to her apartment. She was annoyed enough that he had to follow her all the way home. She figured he would keep going as soon as she parked in front of the building but nope he pulled in behind her and here they were now.

“Yeah, well Bishop will have my ass if I don’t make sure you are inside safe and sound.” He said smugly. It was more for him than Bishop but it was a good enough excuse. Really he wanted to make sure that asshole from earlier wasn’t waiting there and he wanted to know exactly where she lived. “How’s Hope?” 

“She’s good.” Dani smiled a little thinking of Hope. Hope still hadn’t completely warmed up to Dani but they were getting used to having each other. Dani had learned a lot about the young girl. She learned the things that Hope liked and disliked, she learned how to understand her more even though she still wouldn’t really talk, and she learned how to comfort her on those heartbreaking nights when Hope had nightmares. 

She was getting used to having the little girl around. She was all in with her. Dani had never loved as deeply for another as she had Hope. That’s what made Reilly being around, having Hope’s parents alive so much scarier. If it was just her that would be one thing but now she had Hope. She couldn’t let anything happen to Hope. 

“Are you okay?” Angel asked her again, noticing how her smile turned to a frown. 

“I’m fine. It’s just been a day.” 

Angel didn’t really care if he was prying. He had to confirm what Chucky had told him. “That guy today, is he Hope’s father?” 

Dani was taken back a moment. She wanted to laugh at that but it wasn’t a bad assumption. Reilly was going to be around anyways. “Yeah, he’s the one.” 

"What's he doing here? Is he giving you trouble about Hope?" Angel stopped behind Dani as they reached her apartment. 

She turned around looking up at him. "A little, but he's harmless. Trust me I can handle him." It wasn't a complete lie. He was asking about Hope. "Now is this good enough or are you going to have to do a whole sweep of my apartment?" 

"I mean it wouldn't hurt anything." Angel shrugged. 

"I was being sarcastic.” Dani crossed her arms. Angel smirked, he loved when she did that. “I’ll see you tomorrow Reyes.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you get inside safely. Orders are orders.” Angel smirked. She was stubborn but so was he. 

Daniella gave him a cheesy smile before turning back around and opening her door. Once inside she looked back at him and held her arms out. “See? I’m inside safely now so goodbye.” 

Angel glanced back past Dani to Hope and a young girl on their couch watching a show. The girl looked over at them furrowing her eyebrows at him. She looked like she could be related to Dani. The two had matching attitudes and all. “Call if you need anything.” He said seriously. As much as he enjoyed flirting he was more concerned for Dani and Hope’s well being right now. “Someone will always be around if you need them.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, goodbye Angel.” Dani watched as he turned around and headed back down the stairs. She stepped out the door so she could see him leave completely. 

Angel smirked, feeling her gaze on his back. He turned around the smirk still all over his face. “See ya tomorrow little mama.”

Fuck did he irritate her. 

“Who was that?” Letty asked from behind Daniella startling her. “He’s hot.” 

Dani turned around giving her a look. “He’s too old for you so don’t even think about it.” 

“Does he have a brother?” Letty passed Hope to Daniella following her into the house, closing the door behind them. 

“Also too old for you.” Dani rolled her eyes. “Look we’ll find you a boy. A boy your own age.” She stressed. Letty didn't need to be messing around with any older men.

“Do you like him?” Letty pried following Daniella into the kitchen. Her mind was stuck on the hottie with Dani. There was definitely something there and Letty wanted to know everything. Dani set Hope on the counter before going into the fridge pulling out the leftover take out they had from the night before. “Is there something going on there?” Letty smirked hopping onto the counter with Hope handing her the blue sippy cup full of orange juice.

“What? With Angel?” Daniella placed the food on the counter and pulled out a couple of forks. “No, absolutely not. There is nothing there. You’re crazy.” 

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Letty teased. “He obviously likes you and you’d be crazy to not find him attractive. You can at least fuck him. I bet he’d be really good in bed.” Letty opened one of the containers grabbing a fork to dig in. 

Daniella glared back at Letty. “Would you please just shut the fuck up and eat your damn food?” Daniella picked Hope off the counter, settling her on her hip. 

“Come on after so many years locked up with no dick you deserve a little something... or a big something.” Letty smirked thinking about Angel. “He’s definitely packing.” 

“Oh my god Letty. Shut the fuck up.” Daniella laughed pushing Letty playfully. 

“I’m just saying.” Letty hopped off the counter grabbing the food before walking after Dani towards the living room. “Would it really be so bad?”

“With Angel? Yes.” Daniella set Hope on a pillow in front of the coffee table. She then settled next to her dishing some of the food onto a plate for Hope. “That's exactly what a man like him wants. I can't give in." 

"So you do want to fuck him?" 

Dani glared at Letty. "I never said that."

"You haven't said you didn't want to either." Letty pointed out with a smirk. She leaned forward grabbing the remote as she ignored Dani's stare. She figured she'd drop it for now. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything." Dani shrugged as she turned her attention to her food. It’s not like her mind would be all there to enjoy a show anyways. She smiled down at Hope as she watched her pick the carrots out of her food to eat.

"Okay." Turning on the TV Letty decided on Friends. She sat back enjoying the light show as she dug in herself. Anything was better than being at home. As long as Dani didn't mind her hanging around she would often stay a little longer after Dani got home. At least here she felt welcome and safe. With Dani she felt accepted. It was something Letty wanted to enjoy but also not get too comfortable in. For now though she wasn't going to worry about it. 

Tagged List: @jad3djay​ @fairygardenss​ @carlaangel86​ @starrynite7114​ @agirllovespasta​ @gemini0410​ @naytraydr​ @knowles-morgan​ @woahitslucyylu​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @ktiz90​ @brothersofmayhem​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @vsfavs​ @scuzmunkie​ @chibsytelford​ @sadeyesgf​ @blessedboo​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @toni9​ @briana-mishell24​ @cind-in-real-life​ @sammskellington​

[ddaenggtan]

as we go along | myj [m]

pairing | min yoonji x reader

wc | 10.4k

genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not

Four years ago, the beautiful stunning attractive frustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else.

;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

warnings/tags | idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, very strong language i think this MC curses almost as much as i do, oral (female receiving) x2, fingering, wall sex, theres like....a hint of body worship in that MC loves eating pussy bc lbr. what else could possibly compare to that. uhh side jinkook, as well as some side namyoonmin and some vhope if u squint real hard. hwasa and chungha are a lesbian power couple. OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu

a/n |  this is 100% every single lesbian fantasy of my dreams because i just really love the ladeez and also min yoonji needs more characterization outside of 'stone cold butch domme' so uh. here ya go. i love ladeez so this is v self indulgent and also Super Gay. 

this is part of the 25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology 

[Today]

Red bleeds into green and glitters magnificently on the snow. Lights and tinsel are strewn all over the yard of your parents’ house, creating a rather pretty collage of sparkles and swirls against the white backdrop. You wish you could appreciate it more. 

As it stands, however, you’ve been outside for hours untangling the decorative strands so that you can hang them on the gutters, eaves, and railings of the two story house behind you. Your mother had insisted you work inside but you know better. The cats - Mochi and Pablo - are your favorite in the world and you love them dearly, but one of their favorite things in the world has always been holiday decorations. The number of times you’ve had to stop them from chewing on lights of knocking the tree down is frankly ridiculous. So instead you’re unravelling everything so you can get started on what you’re sure is going to be your best year yet.

You’ve always loved decorating, of course, especially for the holidays. Getting up before dawn to go pick out one of the giant fir trees to stand in their living room, picking out new figurines for the Winter Village that sits on the mantle, helping your parents put ornaments on the tree. You love holiday decorating nearly as much as you love the feeling of victory in your chest. 

“If you had an organizer that wouldn’t take nearly as long,” says a voice from behind you. It’s melodic and deceptively sweet in spite of the lower register, and you don’t turn. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. You don’t even respond, instead settling your gloved hands on your hips and eyeing the front porch so you can decide where to start. 

“Really? Ignoring me now? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you were better than being a sore loser.”

Continuing on your mission to pretend she isn’t there, you heft several yards of lights over your shoulder and head toward the ladder you have against the porch roof. You may as well start up high. 

“Interesting choice,” Yoonji mutters as she watches you. The hair on the back of your neck bristles, and you take a deep breath to calm and center yourself. “I’d heard that icicle lights were a bit last season, but I’m excited for this vintage look you’re going for. If you need more, let me know. I think the ones I used last year are still in the garage.”

“What do you want, Yoonji?” You huff, turning over your shoulder to glare at her. She looks entirely too at home in your yard with a steaming thermos in her mittened hands. 

“Just wanted to say hi. Wasn’t sure you were coming this year, considering how late you got in.”

“My flight was delayed for weather reasons,” you snap. 

“Ah. That’s why I always drive up instead.” There’s a pregnant pause that’s filled only with the huffs of your breath as you focus on the lights in front of you. “Oh, but you never got your license, did you? Ah, you should call me next year, we can carpool.”

“I got my license this past year,” You bite out. She doesn’t need to know that it took a few tries. It’s not your fault it makes you anxious to be behind the wheel. “Seriously. I have work to do.”

“Obviously,” Yoonji mutters. You flash her a glare and she just smiles back. “Just wanted to see how you were, if you needed any…” She pauses, eyes trailing over the explosion of decorations on your lawn with thinly veiled judgement in her eyes. “Help.”

“If I needed your help, I wouldn’t be winning this year’s contest.”

“By the looks of it, you aren’t winning this year’s contest anyway.” Her mutter doesn’t escape your notice. But that’s the real problem you have with Min Yoonji.

She’s sarcastic and blunt and kind of intimidatingly hot, but you can handle that. You are a strong, independent queer woman in the modern age and you are not about to let some random lesbian intimidate you, no matter how much you kind of wanted to fuck her in the past. Yoonji is not a problem for you. 

It’s the way she’s constantly putting you down, giving you backhanded compliments, and generally acting like she’s better than you. While winning your parents’ neighborhood’s annual Holiday Decorating Contest that their local Homeowner’s Association runs. Everyone gets a kick out of the friendly competition, the winners get a gift certificate to a Korean BBQ place, and a good time is had by all. 

Except you. 

Because you’ve made it your mission to win - to beat the current reigning champion of the past three years who stands on your lawn sipping what smells like hot cocoa and silently judging your decor choices like she didn’t put a massive inflatable pumpkin on the roof for Halloween. 

She watches you the entire time you hang up the lights, carefully attaching them to the edge of the awning covering the front porch. It isn’t until your father pulls into the driveway and you’re done with the upper half completely - about to start the railing - and descending the ladder one careful step at a time that she speaks again. 

“Those are hanging too low,” She tells you. She doesn’t seem to mind when you ignore her in favor of wrapping lights around the stair banister. 

“Hey there, Yoonji!” Your father calls as he starts to unload the groceries. “What brings you to this part of town?” They both laugh at the joke and you force back a gag. 

“Just hanging out,” She calls back. “Making sure your daughter doesn’t break her neck for some silly competition. You need help with those?” Your dad waves her off. 

“I’m not that old, but thank you. Besides, it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” He gestures with one bag-laden hand, and both you and Yoonji turn. 

A large SUV pulls into the driveway across the street; the passenger door swings open before the vehicle even stops, and a girl - woman, really - launches herself out of the car. She’s across the street in record time, nearly tackling Yoonji to the snow with the force of her hug. Both look excited to see each other, a rare smile on Yoonji’s face that makes you burn with something that doesn’t feel quite like the usual rage. 

The two are talking rapidly in your front lawn, too harried and chaotic for you to make out much of anything besides the fact that they missed each other. They look comfortable with each other in a way you’ve never been and you force yourself to remember that you don’t care . Even as you eye the way the newcomer’s hand sits just that little bit too low on Yoonji’s back. 

The sounds of car doors closing and snow crunching draws your attention and you’re shocked to see another gorgeous girl making her way over. She looks as excited as the first, yet more subdued about it. 

Likely because they’re on a lawn that decidedly does not belong to them, but you could be wrong there. 

Both of the women are absolutely gorgeous, though, easily model material. The first has artfully styled dark hair that falls in perfect waves down her shoulders, and is delightfully curvy in all the places the world loves. Her cheekbones are to die for, makeup flawless, and you resist the urge to pluck at your own outfit, chosen for warmth over style. 

The second woman is no different; not quite as thicc, as Jimin would say, but the figure suits her, as does the straight platinum hair that hangs down to her lower back. It’s stark against the black of her expensive-looking coat, and it only adds to the energy she carries that draws you in even as you wish it wouldn’t. 

“Oh, how rude of me! These are my neighbors,” Yoonji says after a minute. You don’t miss the way she hesitates saying your name, or the almost predatory smiles the other two women get. 

“So you’re the one,” The dark-haired one says. You don’t get a chance to question it before the blonde cuts her off. 

“I’m Chungha,” She says with a friendly smile. “And this is Hyejin.”

“My friends call me Hwasa, though,” The brunette adds. “We hate to tear her away but it’s been ages since we’ve seen our girl.”

“You saw me like two weeks ago,” Yoonji mutters. You’re too caught off-guard by anyone calling Yoonji their ‘girl’ to respond, but you don’t miss the way her cheeks tinge pink from something that isn’t the cold. 

“So we’re gonna steal her away now,” Hwasa continues, oblivious. You don’t protest, letting your father chat amicably while they say their goodbyes and you look between the girls. 

Hwasa’s hand is still lingering on Yoonji’s lower back, something neither of them seem bothered by. That’s something that friends do, though, right? Jimin squeezes your ass constantly and the two of you definitely aren’t together. 

You hear your name and a question but you can’t seem to really focus beyond a mumbled agreement to whatever you were asked. The way Chungha’s eyes glance over her companions feels like something more, but you can never really be sure. Not in this day and age.

But when they head back across the road to Yoonji’s house, Hwasa doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. Yoonji lets her do it, and the glimpse of the grin and the flushed cheeks you see make your heart clench. 

Paired with the way Chungha eyes the pair as she follows behind - a decidedly more than friendly gaze - and every alarm in your brain is going off. She looks ready to jump them both the second they get in the door. 

“I’m impressed,” Your father says. 

“I’m not done yet,” You tell him, turning back to the decorations sprawled across the lawn. “I’ve still got to-”

“No, no,” He interrupts. “Not the decorations. That you’re finally making strides to be nicer to Yoonji.” You stare blankly at him, not understanding what part of your attitude towards her said anything about being nicer. 

And anyway, why shouldn’t she be nicer to you?

“The party…?” You blink at his words, looking in all respects like a startled rabbit. “The annual Min family holiday party? That they just invited you to? The one that you said you would attend?”

“I’m sorry, I did what. ”

“It just happened, sweetheart. I was standing right here for the entire thing.”

“No,” You tell him firmly. “No, because I would remember telling Min fucking Yoonji that I was going to her stupid holiday party.”

Your father just shakes his head. “Then perhaps we ought to get you a doctor’s appointment, sweetie, because I watched it all happen not five seconds ago.” He pats your shoulder, doing his best to show his solidarity for your sudden idiocy, and makes his way inside. 

You spin to watch him go, all the potential protests and complaints clogging together in your throat and leaving you silent. He gets to the bottom step before you’re storming angrily back to your decorations, because whatever , you’ll go to the stupid party. 

Yoonji can have her dumb holiday party with those overhyped cookies your father always raves about. She can have her caroling and her sing-a-long that your mother adores. She can even have her two super hot model girlfriends, because you’re a modern woman, and sometimes that’s what a relationship is. Whatever. It’s her prerogative. You don’t care. It is not going to affect you, or your decorating, at all. 

You scream a little when the icicle lights you so carefully hung knock against your father’s head on his way inside. 

[Three Years Ago]

“You look like you’re struggling,” a voice says behind you. 

They aren’t wrong, either. You’re balanced precariously atop the porch roof your parents’ new hours, hanging garland off the edges so your dad doesn’t have to do it himself. 

You turn to see who’s talking to you - especially since you don’t actually know anyone, this being your first visit to the neighborhood - and very nearly have to hold on to the edge beside you to stop yourself from falling off. 

The man that stands on your parents’ front walkway is easily the most beautiful you’ve seen - a casual elegance to his stance that you’ve not seen outside of celebrities. His leather jacket looks warm and comfortable while remaining stylish, and the all-black underneath suits him while highlighting the lithe form. All of it is perfectly complemented by the mop of jet-black hair tucked under a knitted beanie, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of neighborhood your parents have moved to, when models are just walking around the streets. 

“Uh…” You would kick yourself for sudden ineloquence if you thought you could without falling straight on your ass. The guy bites back and obvious smile, ducking his head for a moment to do so. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” He calls as he looks back up at you. “Did you move in recently?”

“No, I don’t live here.” He raises a brow and you huff. “It’s my parents’ place. I’m just doing their decorating for them.” The guy nods and starts to say something else, but he’s cut off before he can. 

“Jimin-ah, what are you doing?” You look back to the garland as someone else walks up, some girl based on the quick glimpse you get while tugging on a strand that doesn’t want to untangle. You give them some semblance of privacy as the guy - Jimin - relays to her everything you’ve said so far. It only strikes you as a little odd that he’s being so detailed; she could be a jealous girlfriend, for all you know. 

“Oh,” the girl says, tone as dry as the dead leaves piled in the corner of the yard, “Is this supposed to beat me somehow?”

“Yoonji,” Jimin scolds under his breath. 

“Sorry,” You say, standing up to your full height. It’s a considerable distance considering you’re still on the porch roof. “But what is that supposed to mean? Is there some kind of competition I don’t know about?”

“Oh,” Yoonji repeats, surprise evident in her voice this time as she eyes you. You take the opportunity to do the same, and you’re glad the nip in the air already turned your cheeks pink because fuck. 

Yoonji’s god damn gorgeous. She’s slightly taller than the average girl, even in the winter boots she’s wearing, but she wears the height well; her shoulders are straight and her chin has a natural upward tilt to it, like she’s used to looking down at people in more ways than one. She’s not dressed fancy - just thick leggings and an oversized sweater - but she looks like she belongs in a commercial or something. Her hair is similar to Jimin’s - pitch black and soft - but hers is glossier, more like a cat’s coat; her cheeks are pink from the cold, her lips are slightly parted and invite too many thoughts about if they’re as soft as they look, Even in such casual circumstances, she’s radiant, even as she says-

“That explains a lot.”

It takes a second longer than you’d like to admit for your brain to resume function, but when it does, you huff with indignation. 

“Excuse me?” You hiss. “What, are my decor choices not good enough for whatever this competition is?”

“No,” Yoonji says slowly, cocking a brow, and you see red - and it isn’t the lights from the house across the street. You don’t even let her continue before you’re defending yourself.

“Well I’m sorry that not all of us can decorate like they just stepped out of...of…Better Homes And Gardens, or some shit like that. Some of us focus more on making sure we like our decorations and that they actually mean something instead of just doing things for the aesthetic .”

Yoonji mutters something under her breath but you can’t make it out; it’s lost among the breeze that kicks up and the soft sound of laughing that Jimin is trying desperately to muffle. You huff a little and return to your mission of dragging the garland up on top of the roof, a new determination filling your chest. 

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be doing this?” Yoonji asks, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a brow. You freeze. You can hear Jimin’s quiet inhale, and when you look up, he’s got his lips puffed out like that meme of that guy doing the duckface. You let your hand rest on your hips and give this girl the best glare you can - which you have to admit is quite powerful when you need it to be. 

Like now, when this random super hot girl is judging you for being single and also assuming you’re interested in men. The nerve of her. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You tell her firmly. She frowns a little, and you wish the expression wasn’t so cute. 

“Why not?” 

You scoff. “ Because,” You tell her firmly, “Not only am I happy by myself and don’t need someone else to be complete, I happen to prefer women. You may be happy with a member of the opposite sex,” You wave at where she and Jimin stand close together and return to trying to pull up the piece of garland that’s probably stuck on something, “But I tend to lean the other way.”

Yoonji just arches a perfect brow at you, but she at least doesn’t bust out laughing like Jimin does. 

“Oh man,” He says, wiping tears from his eyes as he stumbles forward, “Imagine looking at us and thinking we’re straight. Oh my god, imagine, can you believe-”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend doing this then?” Yoonji asks. Her cheeks are a little redder, but you’re pretty sure it’s just from the cold. “Wouldn’t it be better?”

“Because I’m a strong,” You heave another string of garland up, “Independent,” heave, “Woman!” You give one last tug on the garland and it flies loose, sending you landing back on the flat of your ass atop the porch roof. It doesn’t hurt too bad other than the fact that you can see a smile playing on Yoonji’s lips and your pride has already taken a few hits. 

“Well then,” Yoonji says, patting Jimin’s arm and stepping back, “We’ll stop distracting you, Miss Independent.” She and Jimin walk across the street, and you pretend not to notice the way she looks back every so often. 

[Today]

“No, it needs to be taller.”

“Sweetheart if it’s any taller, it won’t fit in the house.”

You send your mother a frustrated glance and shake your head. “It will, it just needs to be the right height and shape.”

“Why can’t we just get a fake tree? They’re so much easier to move and put together, wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” You hiss, scandalized. “Real trees are better overall for the environment, not to mention how you can’t manufacture the smell of pine trees that come with them that set the entire atmosphere. Plus this nursery uses the profits to plant more trees both here and in areas that suffer with deforestation. It’s for a good cause.”

“And that’s why we had to get here at five in the morning?” Your mother asks sarcastically. 

“Yes,” You reply firmly, “Because otherwise all the good trees will be gone and we’ll be forced to choose from the leftovers.” Your mother mumbles something else under her breath, but you don’t hear it. You’re distracted because there it is. The perfect tree.

You’re two steps away from your perfect tree - tall, evenly spaced, full branches, well balanced, with the perfect shade of evergreen - when you hear her. 

“It’s over here,” Yoonji’s voice echoes. “I need the perfect tree, and it’s the best one I’ve found in years.”

You ignore the way your mother lights up and shush her when she tries to call out to Yoonji. You listen closer; your nemesis is still talking, something about needing a tree for someone - which, who leaves tree shopping to the last minute? The only reason you’re here is that you got in late because of the weather - but her voice is definitely getting closer. 

Panicking, you look at your tree. If Yoonji sees it, it’s definitely over. It’s perfect, there’s no way she’ll want any other, and what Yoonji wants, she gets. 

The only real explanation for what happens next is that you’re running on four hours’ sleep and Yoonji tends to make you a little stupid. 

“Get the other side,” You whisper to your mom. She stares at you and doesn’t move. “Hurry up, before they get here!”

Your mother watches for a few seconds as you wrap your arms around the tree, getting pricked in the face with pine needles as you do, and start to tug. It’s a heavy tree, and it’s only just started to shift when the voices get closer. 

“Seriously?!” You exclaim in a harried whisper to your mom. “Not even a push?!”

“You’re trying to steal a tree,” Your mother says. “From a nursery that gives to charity. I’m not helping with that.”

“I’m gonna pay for it later!” Your mother sighs and starts pushing halfheartedly on the other side of the tree.   

“Shit, no, I meant-” Your words are cut off by a grunt as you manage to catch the tree before it falls entirely. It’s heavy against your shoulder, and of course that’s when Yoonji turns the corner, followed by the broadest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Both stop in their tracks at the sight of you. 

“Hey Seokjin.” You say, faking a laugh. “How are you? Haven’t seen you this year. Business good?”

“Yeah,” He says, cocking a brow, “When people don’t try to run off with our trees.”

“Who? Me? I would never!” The tree starts digging into your shoulder and your legs tremble. “I just thought I’d load it up for you, y’know, save you the trouble.”

“Oh did you?” There’s amusement in Seokjin’s voice as he fiddles with his ring. “You know our policy, you have to pay before loading.”

You start to stammer out some bullshit about him being busy but you’re only halfway through the excuse when Yoonji says your name.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a bored voice. “She was loading it up for me. That’s the tree I was coming to show you anyway.”

The weight finally overtakes you, and you crumble under it. You manage to twist so that nothing important is trapped under the trunk, but you get a faceful of needles for your efforts. 

“Maybe you should do it, though, Jin,” Yoonji says. “It looks a little much for the poor dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin huffs. He pulls the tree off of you with what looks like little effort, hefting it over his shoulder so the base drags the ground. “Where are you parked, Yoonji?”

“Load it onto their car,” Yoonji responds. Both you and your mother stare at her in shock. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Oh, well isn’t that sweet of you,” Your mother coos. She points the way to Seokjin and the two head off, chatting amicably as they go. 

You narrow your eyes at Yoonji where she stands, not even offering to help you up from the snow where you still lay.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask. All she does is quirk a brow. “The tree. Why are you giving it to me? You wouldn’t unless there was something wrong with it. So what is it? Termites? Leaking too much sap? What?”

Yoonji shrugs. “You wanted it,” She says simply. Your blood boils, and she steps back like she doesn’t even notice. 

“You aren’t even going to help me up?” You call as she starts to walk away.

“Good try, Miss Independent,” She calls back. “I think Jungkook’s still in the office if you need him.”

You half-scream a growl as you flop your head back into the snow. A pout forms as you watch the sky start to color with the sunrise. 

You’re going to have to throw away your perfect tree.

[Two Years Ago]

It’s the day of the contest. You’re confident in your decor choices this year, even if you couldn’t get every single thing you had in mind, you decide as you wander the neighborhood to scope out the competition. Last year you went simple and got second place, and you’ve switched it up this year. All out with the best decorations possible. 

You’re going to win. Losing isn’t an option, not again. Not when you were beat by her. 

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself as you turn the corner onto your parents’ street. Your decorations are as good as they can be. 

Your mood sours a little when you see a figure in the yard across from yours, but the soft beanie and oversized hoodie cheer you up once you notice them. 

“Yoongi!” You call with a smile. The man turns and gives you a gummy grin. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Yeah, we got in late last night. Kinda crashed once we did. Then someone dragged us all out to the store early this morning.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh. 

“Well the house looks good. Not as good as mine, obviously,” You tease, “But good.”

“Yeah, you might win this year. Yoonji’s got some good competition.”

You sniffle a little, doing your best to contain your distaste for his twin. 

The Min twins, nearly identical save for the fact that they aren’t the same gender, are easily the best and worst things about the neighborhood. Worst because of that pompous priss Yoonji, obviously. 

Best because Min Yoongi is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known even if he is a bit shy. You met him last year, when he’d carried in an obscene amount of groceries for your mother and you’d almost mistaken him for his sister. You’d made him coffee to say thanks, the two of you talked, and you’ve been friends ever since. 

“No Jimin?” You ask him. He gestures vaguely to the roof, where you can see a small blue hat bopping around. “Ah. I take it you aren’t finished yet, then.”

“Do you know any other reason my sister would have my boyfriend on the roof?” You share a grin with him as you both watch a strand of lights fly off somewhere. “Apparently she needed to make some last minute adjustments. That’s why she dragged us all out to the store, to hunt down some stuff for her.”

“Oh, did you happen to see one of those big dancing snowmen? The one that plays music, you can control it all from your phone? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find one, it’s the one thing I was missing. Had to use an inflatable yeti instead.” Yoongi frowns. 

“Huh, how weird. That’s what we were-”

“I got it all ready, it just needs to be plugged in.”

Yoonji strides out from the house - looking as good as ever in some plaid pants, how dare she - and stops dead when she looks up and sees you. 

“What are you doing here?” She snaps, and you scoff. 

“Visiting a friend,” You respond with a nod towards Yoongi. You take a glance at the phone in her hand, then up to where you can see Jimin standing up a snowman. “Did you seriously steal my idea?!”

“What? No.”

“Really. Because I distinctly remember telling Jungkook about this yesterday while I was picking up my tree and you were right beside him talking to Seokjin. I was even going to put it on the roof so everyone could watch it dance to Pentatonix covers.”

“Like I would listen when you talk,” Yoonji says. Yoongi sighs but you can barely hear it over the flood of rage. 

“Y’know what? Get fucked,” You tell her as you storm out of their yard and back to your parents’ house. 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the holiday party then?” She calls over the road. You send her a rather vulgar hand gesture in return that you hope your parents don’t see. By the time you get inside, the snowman is playing a Mariah Carey Christmas song and you kind of want to set it on fire. 

You do not win the competition that year. 

[Today]

Maybe you should have listened to your parents when they said not to drive today. Probably you should have taken the big ass truck that your father keeps in the garage specifically for when the weather is bad, because it’s got that fancy four wheel drive and traction control and all sorts of stuff meant to keep people safe in the middle of floods and monsoons and blizzards. You definitely should have remembered to charge your phone before you left the house.

Especially considering that your car isn’t great in the snow now falling gently from the sky to land on your hood, mixing with the smoke pouring out from under it. 

You’re lucky you managed to drift to the side of the road and get your hazard lights on, but that’s where said luck runs out. Your phone is dead, it’s several miles back to the house, even further than that to town, and the temperature is already dropping into dangerous territory. 

You’ve been sitting here for three hours, though, tucked inside the residual warmth of your car with spare blankets wrapped around you as you watched night fall. You’re not sure what else you can do. There aren’t any wild animals around here, or anything like that, but it’s definitely too dangerous to trek back to the house. 

“I should’ve just walked back earlier,” You groan as you bundle the blankets closer. “At least it was warmer then. Stupid car, stupid car, stupid me , didn’t charge your stupid phone, how dumb am I.”

Your tirade against yourself continues for several minutes and includes a few very crafty curses that would make your mother gasp. You’re in the middle of another when lights shine into your mirrors, nearly blinding you. 

The lights slow and come to a stop behind your car. A door shuts and you scramble to exit, ready to get on your knees and beg whoever it is to give you a ride to literally anywhere that has heat. 

It takes a second too long for you recognize the shiny purple jeep and the elegant black peacoat backlit by the headlights, and by the time you do, she’s already got an angry snarl on her face. 

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” She demands. You shiver in response and glare at her. 

“Oh, just hanging out, thought I’d take a little nap beside the road in the freezing cold, the usual y’know,” You bite back. She rolls her eyes and starts back towards her jeep. You frown, watching her, and she stops with one foot inside and her hand on the door. 

“What are you waiting for?” She asks. You shrug, and she huffs. “Get in the fucking car, I’m taking you home before you turn into an icicle.” You don’t move and her frown deepens. “Fine, but if you die out here, I’m not the one that’s going to tell your parents it was because you were too stubborn to accept a ride.”

Guilt gnaws at you, and with a frustrated huff, you stomp your way over to the passenger side of her jeep and climb inside. 

She’s careful as she drives, you notice. Long fingers wrapped tight around the wheel, jaw tensed so hard it could be stone, and one arm leaned against the window after she’s finished turning the heat up as high it will go. 

It’s not even been five minutes when she tosses a thick, fleece-lined blanket at you. You look at her, ready to be pissed off, and she cuts you off before you can complain. 

“Your teeth are chattering so loud that I can’t hear myself think. Try not to get hypothermia before we get there, okay?” You huff a disbelieving laugh but curl into the warmth of the blanket anyway. It feels almost too-warm, like when you pull clothes out of the dryer, but it’s a comfort against your freezing skin. 

“Why are you even here? You aren’t heading back from town, you’re not heading to town. Do you just drive around looking for lost girls?” 

“No,” She says carefully, hand tightening around the wheel. It’s all she says for a full minute before she sighs. “Your parents got worried.”

“What?! ”

“They said you went to town to pick up some salt for the sidewalk and drive, and that it had been hours, and that they hadn’t heard from you again even though you took your phone. They were scared that something had happened, so I…”

Your sarcastic response dies on your tongue when you look at her. Really look. 

Her shoulders are tense and set, in a way you haven’t seen before. Her brows are creased, and the pretty lips you refuse to acknowledge are set in a thin line and turned down at the corners. There’s something fizzling in the air between the two of you, something new and unknown.

“...Were you worried about me?” You ask quietly. She shoots you a look and then laughs, a second too late with not enough amusement. 

“Drink that,” She says, gesturing to a thermos. “It’s coffee, it’ll help you warm up a little.” You take the thermos, thoroughly enjoying the warmth it provides your hands, and take a sip. You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when it’s the exact way you like it. You shoot her a thoughtful look, wondering just how else she might surprise you. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, only the lull of the engine and the tires. Neither of you talk much; perhaps because she’s too angry, but you’re too distracted by your own thoughts to say much. 

There’s no way, right? The two of you hate each other, you have since you met. It tints all your interactions, colors every single conversation where either of you are even mentioned, it’s one of the basic facts of the universe. 

So why, as Yoonji pulls into your parent’s driveway and smiles at where they stand watching from the window, do you have a feeling like maybe you’re wrong?

[One Year Ago]

“Really? Inflatables?”

You scowl and turn, already prepared. There stands Yoonji, arms crossed. The weather is fairly mild for the season, and she’s taking advantage of that. High waisted shorts, an off-the-shoulder top, lace-up boots, leather jacket, she looks like every rebellious lesbian you’ve ever dreamt about, and it only makes you hate her more. 

“Yes, inflatables. Because some of us like a little fun. Besides, you stole my dancing snowman last year, and I wanted something you aren’t going to rip off.”

“I didn’t steal your-”

“Whatever,” You interrupt, not wanting to even bother to listen. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

She starts to say something else, but the slam of the front door cuts her off. You turn and grin, waving. 

“Tae! C’mon, put it over here!” 

Taehyung smiles and makes his way over, inflatable deer in his hands. Yoonji’s silent as he gets there and sets the animal where you direct. When he’s finished he turns to you, boxy smile and all, to make sure he’s good, and glances at Yoonji. 

“Oh, you didn’t say you had a friend over,” He whines. “Now I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Yoonji doesn’t answer, merely eyes with distaste the hand he’s got extended. 

“Right. Well then, I’m gonna go get the fawn, alright? Be right back.” He smiles at you, and you watch as he jogs back into the house.

“I thought you only brought Namjoon with you this year.” You turn at Yoonji’s words. 

“No, Tae came as well. It’s a good thing, too, because Joon is utterly useless now since he met Yoongi and Jimin. Little punks stole my best friend.” You’re only mostly kidding. You’re happy for Namjoon - he’s been somewhat lonely these days, and now he’s got not one but two handsome men vying for his affection. 

It does reinforce your own loneliness, though. 

“I thought you liked girls.” You look back at Yoonji and notice she’s got a small pout on her face. It’s cute. 

“I do like girls.”

“Then why is Taehyung here?” The way she says his name is full of spite, and it makes you laugh. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I had to get your permission when I want to bring my friends and loved ones up to visit my parents for the holidays.” You adjust the inflatable deer, posing it so that it looks like it’s glaring at Yoonji’s house in anger. 

Taehyung comes back out before Yoonji can say anything. He’s got his jacket off now, and he does look good in the simple white shirt and the headband that makes his hair look even fluffier than usual. You just really can’t focus on anything but the inflatable fawn he’s got tucked under one arm and the matching rabbit tucked under the other. 

Yoonji’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you roll your eyes. 

“You need another deer,” She spits before she turns around and stomps back to her house. Taehyung shoots you a look. 

“I take it that’s Yoonji, then,” He says with a laugh. You make a puking sound and he tuts at you. “You’re supposed to be nice. That is not nice.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t steal your dancing snowman, did she?”

Across the street, you can see Yoonji fuming as she stands on the porch, talking to Yoongi about something or other. They both look over and while your first instinct is to turn around like you haven’t been watching them, you resist. Instead, you give Yoongi a bright wave. He doesn’t return it but his frown lessens slightly, though that could be because Jimin stumbles, laughing, out of your parents’ house with Namjoon not far behind him. 

Both of them have hearts in their eyes, and it only gets worse when they look at Yoongi. 

“That’s disgusting,” Taehyung says with a wrinkle of his nose. “Eugh, they’re so couple-y and gross. Remind me not to come next year if Namjoon’s here.”

“Oh no,” You tell him with a grin as you wrap him in a hug. He’s warm and solid against you, as he always is, and you thoroughly enjoy it. “If I have to struggle, you do too.”

“Fine,” He whines dramatically. “But I’m bringing Hobi so he has to suffer, too.” You laugh and set him to work organizing the inflatable animals. There are eyes on your back the entire time, but you refuse to turn around and give Yoonji the satisfaction. 

Especially once you realize that you do need another deer to make it look balanced and perfect.

[Today]

The holiday party is well underway by the time you arrive at Yoonji’s, however reluctantly you do so. Your mother and father disappear almost immediately, sucked into conversations with people they’ve known for years now; Tae and Hobi are tucked into a corner, nursing glasses of cider while they look at the rather extensive Winter Village display on the Mins mantle; Namjoon has been here for hours already, and is no doubt locked away in Yoongi’s room with the man himself, and Jimin, and you choose to believe that they’re having some philosophical discussion and not doing anything else. 

You think you catch a glimpse of Jungkook amidst the people from the neighborhood, but by the time you get to where he was, there’s no sign of him, or the broad-shouldered man he’s usually with. Abandoned in the kitchen, you pour yourself some cider and spike it with a hint of rum, just to get you through the night. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” A voice says. 

When you turn, you find Hwasa perched on the countertop, Chungha leaning back between her legs. Both are watching you curiously, and both look absolutely fantastic in figure-hugging dresses and tights and heeled boots. They look like they just stepped off a runway, but the look in their eyes feels more like a panther than a model. 

“What boyfriend?” You ask eventually. 

“Tall, great chest, soft hair,” Hwasa says. When you just stare at her, she smiles a little. “Boxy smile.”

“Oh, Tae?” You laugh a little. “He isn’t my boyfriend. I’m not even interested in him like that, he’s just my best friend.” The two women share a look and Chungha kisses her cheek before heading out of the room. Hwasa eyes you and you have the distinct feeling you’re being judged. 

You thought you looked okay when you picked out the simple but nicer outfit; black sweater, maroon skirt, tall black boots. It’s classy but casual. You’re sure of it. 

At least you were. 

“So tell me about this thing with Yoonji,” Hwasa eventually says. You nearly choke on your cider. 

“I mean...there’s not much to tell. We’ve hated each other ever since we met four years ago.”

“Oh?” Something lights up in her eyes that you don’t particularly like. 

“Look, no offense to you or your girlfriend, Yoonji’s just...kinda mean for my tastes. I guess some people are into that.”

“Elaborate.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and you find yourself explaining before you can stop. You tell her nearly everything, about all the shit Yoonji’s done to you, and by the time you’re finished, she’s actually smiling.

“Like...I’m sure you love her and all, otherwise you wouldn’t be dating her, but-”

“What? ” She nearly falls off the counter, she’s laughing so hard, and when you start to help steady her, she just waves you off. “No, sweetie, I’m dating Chungha, not Yoonji.”

“I thought you were dating both of them? Did you all break up?”

“Oh my god , she wasn’t kidding,” Hwasa says breathlessly, still fighting back giggles. “Holy shit, this explains so much. Ha, oh my god, no, we never were dating Yoonji, she’s just our best friend. Like you and that Taehyung guy?”

“Oh.” You feel foolish; it makes sense, friends can be just as physically close as romantic partners. You and Taehyung are proof enough of that. “I...just assumed…”

“I know, but you’re definitely wrong. You drink more cider, stew on that, maybe rethink things from another perspective, I’ve got to tell Chungha about this, it’s too good.” Hwasa hops off the counter with ease and disappears out the door before you can ask her to explain what she means about other perspectives. You can hear giggles as they slowly drown in the chatter of the party and the soft carols playing over the speakers. 

You stay in the kitchen for a while, nursing your cider and thinking. If Yoonji doesn’t have two model-hot girlfriends, then could you have been onto something in the jeep that night? You’ve hated her for so long, and assumed that she hates you in return, but if you were wrong about the girlfriends, then maybe you’re wrong about that, too. 

Something enters your vision and you look up, nearly spitting out your drink as you do. 

Yoonji stands in front of you, in a slinky green velvet dress that she keeps tugging the bottom of. It doesn’t look like anything she usually wears, down to the floral lace tights and the wedge heels that make her even taller than she already is, and she looks slightly uncomfortable if the burn in her cheeks is any indication. 

The worst part is that she looks good. Like, good good. It suits her, even if it isn’t her usual style, and for once you can’t deny the attraction swirling within your stomach. 

“What are you wearing?” She asks angrily, glaring down at your clothes like they kicked her dog - whom you have not seen tonight, which is a travesty, because you adore Holly. A cough echoes from somewhere behind the two of you, and Yoonji wrinkles her nose. “I mean...I like...your outfit.”

You quirk a brow at her and set your cider down on the counter nearby. “Really? Because it looks like you want to tear it off and then set it on fire.” Something complicated happens with her expression and a spark ignites in your mind. 

“Are you sick?” She asks. Her face does something else complicated as a groan echoes from nearby, and something painful twists in your stomach. You really didn’t think you looked that bad. “I mean, after the other day. With the snow. And the cold. Are you sick?”

“Is...this your way of telling me I look ill?” You ask her. She frowns. “Because if wanted me to leave your party, all you had to do was say that, you don’t have to insult me.” You head toward the door of the kitchen and there’s a scrambling that sounds much too loud for just her friends. 

So your friends are also eavesdropping. Fantastic. Now everyone knows she’s insulted you. Just what you needed tonight. 

Her hand catches your wrist as you’re about to leave the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that,” She mumbles, not making eye contact. “I just...wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. It was really cold that night, and you were out there for a long time.” 

“So, what, you suddenly care? Why? Because you don’t want to win by default or something?”

“No, because I-” She cuts herself off with a groan, and you’re glad there are so many people around, because it seems like everyone’s distracted with something else. They’re too busy to notice this absolutely disastrous conversation. 

“Hey look,” Taehyung says, appearing from nowhere and pulling roughly on Yoonji’s arm until she’s standing beside you in the doorway. “Mistletoe! How random! Guess you have to kiss!”

“That’s a stupid tradition,” Yoonji spits, and you’re inclined to agree with her. “Forcing people to kiss just because of some plant? How is that okay? Besides, it’s got nothing to do with the actual myth behind it, and-” She sounds like she could go on forever, but you cut her off. 

“And it’s not like we want to kiss anyway.” Her grip on your wrist slackens, and you turn to look at her. Uncertainty fills you as you look at her expression, because the only word that comes to mind is crestfallen. “Right?”

“I...I mean…” Taehyung disappears as Yoonji searches for words, and you just know he’s hanging out somewhere nearby to watch it all happen. 

“Because we’re nemeses.” You say slowly. “We hate each other.”

“Do we?” Yoonji asks quietly, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you?”

“Don’t you? ” You ask her. “You’ve been nothing but rude to me since we met. You’ve insulted me, and stolen my decorating ideas, and-”

“No,” She says quickly. “No, I never meant any of it like that, you just never gave me a chance to explain. You’re...you’re so pretty, and I always get flustered around pretty people, and I say the wrong things.”

“You told me I wasn’t as good if I didn’t have a significant other the first time we met.”

“I was trying to figure out if you were interested in women, and when you said you were, I just...panicked, because I figured you had someone, because you’re…” She gives a wave to your general being. 

“You stole my dancing snowman.”

“I did not! I heard someone talking about a dancing snowman at the tree nursery, and I didn’t realize it was you, and I thought, since I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I’d get a dancing snowman that would play this cheesy playlist thing I made for you. I didn’t know you were looking for it, and I didn’t steal your idea. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Okay, well...last year you were so rude! And you said you wouldn’t listen when I talked!”

“I thought…” She trails off, looking ashamed. “I thought you were dating Taehyung, and I got jealous. But the listening comment wasn’t like that! It’s because I always zone out because I like to listen to you talk, because your voice is so pretty, but I never hear what you actually say, and also you just...are really pretty. So I get distracted.”

“I…” You’re rather speechless; your entire world has shifted on its axis. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never.” Yoonji insists. “I just don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”

“You hang out with Hwasa. And Chungha.”

“Yeah, and?” Her brows furrow. “What’s your point?” If you could, you would keysmash at her, but as it stands, you just gape. 

“Uh, they’re literally model gorgeous?”

“Oh, are they?” She looks down at where your fingers are still entwined with hers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You blink at her, and she looks up at you. There’s a faint smile playing on her lips, and something bright in her eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, shaking your head. “I just still don’t-”

“Will you shut up?” Yoonji asks, free hand coming to gently glide across your cheek. “And let me kiss you?” Your jaw shuts with a snap and you nod. 

Her lips are soft against your own, and your breath catches in your throat as you return the kiss. Her hand moves to grip your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly so the two of you fit together that little bit better, and your hands come to rest on her hips. 

Electricity sparks through you to her. She pulls back just a little and you’re distracted by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips. 

“This might be moving a little fast, since we hated each other an hour ago-”

“You hated me an hour ago,” She corrects. 

“But I would be very, very happy taking this to a more private area so I can express to you just how apologetic I am that I thought you hated me.” You tear your gaze from her lips to look at her face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown out at the mere thought. 

“Upstairs,” She growls, already pushing you in the direction of the staircase. You’re both speeding through the crowd of people as fast as you can without being obvious, and you have to help her every few feet because she’s wobbly in her heels, but by the time you make it up the stairs and into her room, you’re both desperate. 

Her mouth meets yours with a fire behind it that you’ve never felt before, and you hardly even get the door closed before she pushes you back against it. Your tongue darts along the seam of her lips and she grants you entrance, and you could moan at just the taste of her if you were just a little weaker. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” She whispers, moving to nip at your neck. Her hands are under your sweater and you don’t even remember them getting there, but you can’t complain as they move to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples through your bra. “Can you even imagine how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you? Tasting you? Hearing you moan?” 

She bites, hard and rough, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. How she possibly knows that you like that is something you don’t have the energy to ponder, nor the will to question. 

“Please,” You breathe, hands tangling in her hair as she sucks a mark into the skin of your throat. She’s slotted between your thighs and your hips are rutting against hers ever so slightly, desperate for some friction. You know you’ve already soaked through your panties, which is a feat considering all she’s done is play with your nipples a little and kiss you like you’ve never been kissed. 

“What is it, angel?” Her voice is deeper than usual, roughened by the desire coursing through your veins and hers, and it only makes you wetter. “What would you like me to do?”

“Anything,” You plead. “Please, just touch me.” 

“Anything?” Yoonji mutters. She chuckles, low and raspy and so unbearably attractive that you want to scream. You almost do scream, from frustration, when she pulls her hands away from your nipples, but she drops to her knees and you forgive her. 

Yoonji kisses up your thighs, from the edge of your boots all the way to where the hem of your skirt hits mid-thigh, and her hands are warm as they slide underneath. She doesn’t stop kissing you, not even as she lifts the fabric of your skirt and nips at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. Still, she’s so far away from where you need her, that you can’t help your whine. 

“Patience, angel,” She whispers as she glides one finger along your fabric-covered lips. Your hips rut forward on instinct, and she laughs a little. 

“You stole my dancing snowman, you could at least be quick about this,” You mutter. 

“What’s the fun in being rushed?” She leans forward to mouth at your pussy through your underwear and your legs tremble slightly. She’s gentle as her hands slide your underwear down to pool around your ankles, and even more gentle as they glide back up to rest on your thighs. “But I’ll be nice this time. Besides, I’ve been dreaming of what this pussy tastes like for years.”

Anything else you might say to her is cut off with a moan as her tongue starts to tease at your clit. One of your hands comes to rest on the back of her hair before you even realize you’ve moved, and she takes that as all the encouragement she needs. 

Yoonji eats pussy like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have, and you’re in absolute awe. The way her tongue moves against you is absolute bliss, no matter where it is; she teases at your entrance, sliding the very tip of her tongue inside to gather your wetness before she runs the flat of it up to your clit, where she circles and sucks mercilessly before moving back down to thrust it in and out and in and out relentlessly. She coaxes an orgasm out of you faster than anyone else ever has, and even as your writhing against the door with her head under your skirt, she doesn’t stop. 

Instead, she slides one long finger inside of you and keeps it there. She doesn’t move it, doesn’t even allow it to twitch, but it’s there and you can feel it as she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, making your clench around her. She moans into your pussy, too, the entire time she’s at work between your legs, and it only turns you on more when you glance down to see her hand between her legs. 

“Yoonji, please, I want, please, I wanna taste you too, please,” You beg, tugging gently on her hair until she pulls back. Her chin is covered in your cum and the sight is so unbelievably unerotic that you could probably come just from that. 

“Take this off,” She growls, pulling on your skirt as she stands. You do as she says without hesitation, more than willing to get naked if it means getting your mouth on her, and by the time your boots are in the corner with the rest of your clothes, she’s just as naked as you are. 

And god, she’s beautiful. 

Your lips meet hers again as you push her towards the bed, and you can taste yourself on her tongue as it slides against yours. The two of you tumble onto the mattress and you situate yourself between her thighs. It isn’t until you’ve got her legs spread wide and your licking and sucking at her nipples that you register that her face is flushed with something new. 

“What is it?” You ask, panting, as you detach from her - beautiful, wonderful, adorable, perfect - tits. “Do you not want me to? I don’t have to, I just would really like to, it’s up to you.”

“No, it’s not that, I’ve just never…” She trails off, looking embarrassed, and realization smacks you in the face. 

“No one has ever gone down on you before?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head. 

“I’ve always been the one to do so, all the other girls have been kind of...well. I’m usually the dominant one, so…”

“Yoonji, sweetheart,” You say seriously, pressing a kiss to her cheek with each word. “Will you allow to me to eat you out? Because seriously, those other girls are trash, and I would absolutely cherish the experience if it’s something you want.”

Her face turns even more pink and she nods. You press a quick kiss to her lips and gently spread her thighs so you have better access. You mimic her actions from earlier, pressing kisses to her thighs and the crease of her hips. When you finally get a taste of her, you moan. 

She tastes like absolute fucking bliss, you decide as you glide your tongue through her folds. You could live off of nothing but the taste for her until the end of time itself, and the way she moves is amazing. Little jerks and thrusts, and her fingers tangle in your hair to push you closer even as her hips pull away slightly. 

Your tongue rubs circles around her clit, flicking and licking and coaxing her closer and closer to her high. You dip down to fuck your tongue into her for a second or two, and the way her back arches is art in motion. You reach one hand up to tweak one of her nipples while your other arm remains wrapped around her hip like a steel bar, keeping her in place even as she grinds against your mouth. 

You remember how it felt earlier when she wrapped her lips around your clit, so you mimic the action. Her bud fits perfectly between your lips, and when you suck on it, she tenses. Everything stops for a second, and you’re afraid maybe you ruined it, but then her whole body jerks, and she presses you hard against her. You lap up her essence as it comes, eager and more than willing, and when she finally stops spasming, you pull yourself away with a grin. 

“Holy shit,” She mutters, and you laugh. 

“I can’t believe no one’s ever eaten you out before,” You sigh, one hand sliding along her waist to massage her breasts. “Does that mean no one’s ever fucked you before either?”

“I mean…” You stop, staring at her with wide eyes. “I told you, I’m usually the dominant one, so most people don’t really...return the favor.”

“Can I please fuck you?” You ask in a rush. “Please, I promise I’ll be gentle.” She huffs a little, and you think it’s amused but you can’t be sure, because she’s spreading her legs again and your focus is elsewhere. 

“Yeah, angel, you can fuck me.”

You lower yourself to kiss her, lingering and deep, and you don’t miss the moan she gives as she tastes herself on your tongue. You wait until she’s thoroughly distracted by the way your mouths move, then glide your fingers over her. 

Her clit is still sensitive, based on the way she jumps as you ghost your fingers over it, so you avoid that. You don’t want to overwhelm her. She groans as you slide a single single finger inside her, and you moan. 

Her walls are softer than the velvet of her dress, and warm around you. She’s tight, too, so incredibly tight that you aren’t sure you’ll be able to fit another inside her. She moans as you slide your finger out and then back in, gathering more of her wetness as you do. 

You’re careful as you fuck her, gentle and slow, and you think you could get addicted to it. Her hips move in time with your hand, gaining speed as you do. “Fuck, angel, it’s so good,” She whimpers. You smile. 

“Let me know if it gets too much, okay?” She nods, and you start to slide a second finger in. Yoonji winces, just a little, so you slow until her hips rock against your hand. 

“More,” She breathes. “Please, more.”

“As you wish,” You tell her. You still are gentle as you thrust into her, feeling her walls contract around you. It’s heaven, absolute perfection, and you tell her so as she grips onto the sheets. 

You latch your mouth onto her nipple as you continue fucking her, biting and sucking as your fingers curl. 

“I need, ah, please, I need more, I need, holy fuck, to come, I need to come,” She moans desperately. You grin and curl your fingers more, sliding them against her walls. You finally find what you’re looking for, that small spongey spot that has her convulsing around you. 

“That’s right, baby,” You coo, “Come on, I know you want to.”

Her hands are in a death grip on your shoulders, and they only get tighter as you press harder against that spot inside her. She comes with a cry that you muffle with your own mouth, her body shaking as she lets go. 

You slide your fingers out when she’s relaxed a little more, licking the taste of her off as she pants. 

“Holy shit,” She breathes. You grin, peppering kisses along her stomach, up her chest, along her throat and over her cheeks. “Can we do that every day?”

“I dunno,” You tease. “Are you going to steal my dancing snowman again?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at your shoulder, and you laugh. 

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be nice to the people you like.”

“I’m bad at that, though,” She mutters. “I always just...say the wrong thing. I’m more of a do-er.”

“I’m still caught up on how I was supposed to know you liked me based on the things you did.”

“Really?” She huffs, glaring at you playfully. “I went tree shopping at five in the morning for you.”

“Yeah,” You say softly, grinning. “You did.”

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Christmas Anthology 

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP THREE  - THE CAROUSEL. FAILED.

PLAYERS:

THE HEARTBREAK KID - Casey Russell. THE ARTIST - Sloane Salt. THE CLASSIC - Libby Logan.

EARNED PERKS:

- PUZZLERS: Talk about minds of freakin’ steel! As the only group to solve the puzzle in ONE guess, Casey Russell, and Sloane Salt have both earned themselves a chance to go back and fix it! If a choice happens to go wrong for them in a future event, they will be allowed ONE do-over. Use it wisely! 

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

- Casey fell on his face, and cost the group a time penalty on his run back from the Ferris Wheel. - The Gang only used one try in their puzzle, and succeeded!  - Sloane dropped the second key, and failed to disarm the Candy Girl’s bomb. The carousel was destroyed in the blast.  - As the one who dropped the key, Sloane was blamed for the destruction of the carousel, and arrested. On the bright side, she saved Libby and Casey from spending a night in jail... But this will come back to bite them all in-game.

When it was put there, he doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Casey’s heart skip. There, in the case of his instrument is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @caseyfm

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Sloane’s heart skip. There, hidden within her deck of tarot cards is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @saltofthcearth

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Libby’s heart skip. There, in her ride locker, is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @hellolibby​ 

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your years of high school, and… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion might not be so pleasant. The three of them - Casey, Libby, and Sloane - all walk up to the Carousel at the same time. They all meet each other’s eyes, and though nobody says it, everyone hears the same thought in their head. ‘Fuck.’

LIBBY: "So..." Libby's voice wavers dangerously - her hands shake, cast and all - but somehow she fights every urge she has within herself to run the other direction before chaos can unravel itself all around them. If the Candy Girl wanted them all here, then she doubted running away would be of much use. They were all trapped in Cherry… But this time, it wasn’t ‘small town syndrome’ keeping them back. "Probably safe to assume running into each other here isn't just a coincidence, right?"

SLOANE: There was an urge to reach out to the both of them and pull them in close that Sloane resisted, looking between Libby and Casey. So much for a lull in this Candy Girl's machinations, it seems a week was enough for her to plan something more. She swallowed thickly and then shook her head, folding her arms over her chest nervously. "Well, obviously I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." She motioned towards the Carousel. Talk about betraying her cause.

CASEY: Casey follows Sloane's gesture to the carousel. How did wooden horses somehow seem so menacing at night? It was thirty minutes before Mystic Cherry were due to perform and instead he was here about to do...? The sinking feeling in his gut tells him that this is going to lead to no good. "Yeah, this definitely isn't my idea of a warm up before a gig..." he mumbles, before his gaze falls on them both.

THE NARRATOR: There’s no clock to strike the time - nothing to let them know that 7:30-sharp has approached but the faint sound of Dean Hargrove’s voice in the distance is enough to let them know. They're all watching each other, but they can't help but flinch at the intrusion of the sound... And then, yet again ,when Hargrove is cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize. They’re too far away to hear what the commotion is about, but somehow they know… Their night just took a turn for the worse.

It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb is dropped from the roof of the carousel, and onto it’s platform - near one of the old horses that looked a little too off-it’s-rocker. It’s clearly meant for them… It has to be. The only problem? The Gang is stuck, woefully, behind a locked fence.

There are a few ways to get to it, at least. They could always take their chances climbing the fence  to get inside of the Carousel; it doesn’t look that high.

Casey knows the guys who work here… They’re always leaving things lying around. Maybe it might be best to look around for a lanyard someone might have dropped.

 Then again, Libby has been treating the Boardwalk like a second home since she was just a kid, and she says there’s always another way in… Maybe they look for a hole in the fence?

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST RETRIEVE THE CHERRY BOMB. DO YOU CLIMB THE GATE [SURVIVOR], LOOK FOR A LANYARD [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR LOOK FOR A HOLE IN THE FENCE [PERCEPTION]?

LIBBY:  "Come on, guys, Casey's right. What are the odds that someone didn't drop their key? It's the boardwalk." It's easy to tell when Libby is determined to get something done. For the first time that day, she ties her hair up in a high ponytail - she crinkles her nose as she scans the area. She probably looked a little too much like a 60’s witch from her favorite sick day show - but, she can’t help herself. Libby always felt a little smarter when she was acting like somebody else. "Sloane - you look over by the hot dog cart. Case, you should probably take the space behind the ride, and I'll... Look everywhere else. I guess.

THE NARRATOR: It’s really a wonder the boardwalk even stays open, considering how careless some of the employees can be, but after a few minutes of searching for a stray key, our little slice of the gang finds their hands on one. They unlock the gate with ease and all pile in toward the Carousel; eager to get their hands on that ominous little magazine.

The cover of the Cherry Bomb is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO.

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

YOU’RE NOT LOCKED IN, BUT IT’S STILL ON YOU! FIND THE KEY, OR THIS FRIEND DIES TOO.

THE NARRATOR:  Oh...my. Now, that’s quite the predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND LOCKED AWAY IN A BOX. YOU MUST FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEM. DO YOU LOOK FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR SEARCH FOR A KEY WILDLY [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]?

SLOANE:  Despite the rising heart rate that Sloane is sporting after looking through that shiny new issue of the Cherry Bomb and the revelation of this new note, she's standing tall, directing the other two. "Divide and conquer, like before. There have gotta be clues around here somewhere... she dropped this from the roof, maybe there's something else." Sloane's boots carry her around the perimeter of the Carousel as she searches for something, anything to give an indication of who is in the box and a way to find this damn key.

THE NARRATOR:  Look for clues. Good idea, Sloane! They split up, but maybe it's better that way.

Libby  stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two search the operator’s booth up and down for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. ADMIN EM IS HERE TO HELP, BUT MAYBE TRY THE WELCOME DESK TO START.

SLOANE: With shaky hands, Sloane reaches for the briefcase, after staring at the damn riddle for what felt like so long the words had ceased to make sense. She input their first attempt at cracking the code: 3142.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS!

THE NARRATOR: With the numbers all in the correct order, the briefcase pops open rather easily. They find a key, but along with it, our little gang sees a mess of wires, something that looks like a keyhole, a clock ticking down…. And a note.

CANDY GIRL:  ANOTHER SURPRISE  - AND THIS WILL BE FUN - I GOTTA GO, I GOTTA RUN! BUT BEFORE I DO, I PLANTED A BOMB! AND IT WILL BLOW UP WHEN THE TIMER SAYS ONE!  SO, FIND A NEW KEY, TRY OUT THE LOCK! SEE IF YOU CAN DISARM IT -  BEAT THE CLOCK! BUT IF YOU DON’T - AND YOU DON’T GO BOOM -  THEN ENJOY THE INTERROGATION ROOM!

WHERE TO FIND THE KEY? THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY. I’M TALL, AND I’M ROUND, AND I’M SLOW, AND I’M BORING! I’M FAR AWAY, SO YOU’LL HAVE TO SPRINT, BUT IF YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU WON’T TAKE THE HIT. YOUR SECOND OPTION? MERRY GO ROUND! CLIMB ALL THE WAY UP! OR SOMEONE WILL DROWN. THE KEY COULD BE THERE, THE KEY COULD BE NOT… OH, WELL, FIND OUT! OR MAYBE YOU’LL ROT.

THE NARRATOR: Well, the threat is clear. They must solve the riddle, get the second key, and disarm the bomb before the timer runs out… if they don’t, the whole thing might be coming down. And they might just go down with it.

CASEY:  A bomb. They were now dealing with a bomb. The words barely have a chance to register in his mind before they're all scrambling to work out what the words on the paper mean and how to save their friend. With his heart still in his mouth, it barely feels like it has a moment to settle before he's spluttering out, "it has to be the ferris wheel, right?" Looking at both of his friends for their sign of agreement.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GO TO THE FERRIS WHEEL. NOW YOU MUST DECIDE WHO SPRINTS THERE BEFORE THE TIMER RUNS OUT. [STRENGTH, FIGHTER, BRAVERY.]

CASEY: With the agreement of his friends - he's bolting off. Barely a thought running through his head other than the knowledge that he has to get to the ferris wheel before the timer ticks down to zero. Their friendship circle has suffered enough with Lux's death without adding in a casualty at the hands of Candy Girl. Scrambled together with the thought that he's lost enough family over the years, too. So, it's sheer brute force that gets him through the sprint, running like his own life depends on it because... well... it kinda does. With the ferris wheel in sight, he hopes he will make it in time.

THE NARRATOR: Heart racing, chest aching; adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but somehow  he finds the key hanging from the Ferris’ Wheel’s gate like a prize less than two minutes later. With that in his hands, he just has to sprint all the way back to the carousel to save his friends. 

It should be just as easy - it has to be - but maybe the pressure of getting back in time is getting to his head, because on the way back… Casey stumbles. It’s not it’s the wipeout of the century, but it certainly shaves some time off of that fucking timer in the briefcase. Not to mention some skin off of his face -- and is that blood dripping down his collar? Fuck. 

MAKE A CHOICE:  MODERATE SUCCESS. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO CASEY’S STUMBLE.

THE NARRATOR: They  have the key, and now they just have to disarm that fucking bomb. It seems simple enough… But it would probably be better if whoever did it was calm. Or good at problem solving. Or just… Really, really, really good at surviving bleak situations. Any takers?

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEONE HAS TO DISARM THE BOMB [CALM, PROBLEM-SOLVING, SURVIVOR.]

SLOANE: Sloane has dealt with many a crisis, but none so bad as this one, when lives are on the line and there's a god damn bomb in a briefcase like they're in a cheesy 80s action flick. Taking a deep breath, she takes the key from Casey, worried eyes having to fight to not focus in on his injury. They don't have time. They have to do this. "I can do it." She assures them both, steadying her hands and clenching her jaw as she lifts the key towards the keyhole steadily. "Fuck it." She mutters as she tries the one they've retrieved.

THE NARRATOR:  Holy shit. Holy shit.

THE NARRATOR: I can believe this one is really happening.

THE NARRATOR: The three of them held their breath - Casey and Libby watched while Sloane went for the lock with only 30 seconds left on the timer… only to drop it.

It was the fumble of the century - the sound of the key falling into the hidden mechanisms of the carousel like a taunt - and as the clock counted down, they knew they only had one choice… 

The three of them took off running as hard as they could - their lives depended on it, after all - and though it was a mighty effort, they didn’t make it far enough not to be blown off of their feet. They all land in a pile together; beaten, broken… And absolutely fucked when only minutes later, the Boardwalk Police come running.

They expect for handcuffs to be thrown onto the three of them, but as Dean Hargrove comes running up behind them, he instructs them only to arrest Sloane.

He had known Casey and Libby since they were both kids, after all. They were his son’s best friends. How was he supposed to believe that they had something to do with this over the Salt girl? Libby and Casey try to protest, but it’s no use. Sloane is going with them to the police station, and… that’s that.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE FAILED YOUR EVENT, BUT AT LEAST YOU FOUND THE FIRST KEY. YOUR FRIEND HAS A CHANCE.

[stardancerluv]

Puzzle Piece

Part Two

Summary: Ford learns some interesting thing about about Reader.

Note: I must state...over the years, I’ve lost my mom...a best friend, and then because of this virus..let’s just say the last month...things got steadily worse. So I decided I may touch on it here and there. This will never be purely angst or is it a device to drive a plot. Its some of me working through those feelings and decided to do it productively.

—-and since I don’t have my new phone can’t upload or make a collage...I’m using gifs that I feel will kind of portray what I’ve written.

Song lyrics in italics. The Doors - The End of the Night

Warning: Reader has lost someone

Sometime later you giggled.

He looked over at you and smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“The bubbles, they tickled my nose!” Being this close to you, he could tell you were getting tipsy and it was actually kind of cute. “I’m not used to drinking, it’s been awhile.”

He nodded knowing. “It can certainly tickle one.”

As he looked at you he relished the flush of life you were. He was used to being around the dead that he had forgotten what it was like to be around the living.

“Yes.” You sighed contently. Your eyes met his there was something behind them he couldn’t read. Perhaps it was because you were human. “I had an idea.”

He rose his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I am going to freshen up. While I’m gone pick a song for us to dance to for when I return.”

“Oh, so you’ve warmed up to me? I’m no longer a stranger?” He playfully teased. At the coffee shop, he realized how out of the ordinary this entire situation was for the two of them.

Him especially since he was actually dead but at the moment, he wasn’t going to tell you that.

He growing very fond of you and didn’t really want to see you running off screaming. It had been some lifetimes since he had companionship so this with you, was very nice.

You laid a hand over his, he felt you flinch since he was so cool to the touch but this time you didn’t pull back. He could feel himself growing addicted to buzz of energy that poured from you, even with the slightest of touches.

He smirked, “I think I would like that very much.”

He watched you walk away.

“Ford, I didn’t know you had started to play with your food.”

He rolled his eyes before turning to the petite werewolf. “Hi Tammy.”

She smiled brightly, her canines gleamed in the lights of the bar. “Hi Ford.”

He slid off his stool and making past her on his way to the Jukebox. Nancy beat him to it, leaning against it, she took a leisurely yet sexy pose. “Gonna dance with her too?” She pursed her ruby lips.

“Yes,” Sighing, running his fingers through his hair he looked at the choices. “Don’t you have territory to mark or an alpha to answer to?” Turning he gave her a sardonic look.

She scrunched up her face before exhaling. “I wanted you to be my alpha.” She laid a hand on his arm.

He flinched the difference was sharp. What was it that made you different. “I don’t like to lay among fleas.”

“But a rotting corpse is better?” She removed her hand. “No reason to be rude. But you really should cloak those thoughts the wrong person will read them one day.” A bitter chuckle poured from her, as she cocked an eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together before speaking again. “Why must you always read mine?”

“Because I still care Ford.” She tugged on his ear. “Listen, since apparently don’t know you silly ghoul.”

“Will fucking hush she will hear you!” He snarled.

She took a step back, he could tell she was listening. “Nah, she’s just washing her hands.” Stepping back, closer to him as she smiled brightly. “Want to know why you are so drawn to her?”

He looked down at her, he smiled. “Because she is not you?”

“Very funny. Ford, she is walking that invisible line that humans walk when death gets too close.”

He looked to the darkened hallway that led to the toilets and back at Nancy. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s the closest they get to being like us, without actually being one of us.” She shrugged. “Someone, close to her died. The ghost is lingering and or well I don’t know.” She sighed in a huff. “The memory of them or shards of what used to be are still in her heart.“

He didn’t say anything but it was beginning to make sense.

Tammy’s stabbed a finger over his heart which had recently started coming back to life. “So don’t be an asshole. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“You are encouraging me to be nice to a human? I’m amazed.” He chuckled.

“I have my moments. Alright, remember what I said.” She fluttered off.

“Who was that?” Your sweet voice came from behind him.

Turning on a heal, he smiled down at you. His stomach lurched. “A friend.”

You nodded and smiled. “So did you pick a song or two?”

“No, help me.”

“Alright.” You said brightly.

******

First, as the music started there was space between the two of you. You don’t know why but you had this urge to get closer. You barely knew him. You were aware of this, you thought this out. Yet, you had this ever growing need to be close.

Take the highway to the end of the night

End of the night, end of the night

Take a journey to the bright midnight

Despite all of this, you wanted to touch him. He was incredibly cool to the touch, something was certainly wrong with him; perhaps poor circulation. Though the urge caused your fingertips to tingle.

You wanted to run your fingers over that impeccable marble white skin, he was like a breathing sculpture. His dark hair in the lightning of this bar reminded you of the feathers of a raven, his eyes were still as choppy as the ocean as they never left yours as the two of you danced.

Realms of bliss, realms of light

Some are born to sweet delight

He drew close. You didn’t step back. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I thought we were going to be dancing together?”

“We are..”

You gasped which you were certain he heard since he pulled you right up against him. You finally felt he was firm as you had expected. Your hands in their surprise rested on his chest.

You felt as his hands moved so they could hold you closer against him. There was no space between the two of you.

“Much better.” He whispered close to your ear.

“Yes.” You nodded and you met his eyes again.

Some are born to sweet delight

Some are born to the endless night

Finally, you let your hand drift up. You grazed his cheek before your finger were finally nestled in his ebony strands.

He drew close as he continued to gaze down at you. Your lips met.

@fandomgirl800 @shantellorraine @mac-n-cheesie @vcat55

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It, Part Fifteen

Jensen Ackles x Musician!Reader

Masterlist - Contains Chapter Links & Wardrobe Collages

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this new chapter! Life has been getting in the way, BUT I am back and determined to finish this ridiculously LONG fic. Thank you to everyone who keeps reading and following along with this one. You don’t know what it means to me! Any lines bold and italic are not written by me, but song lyrics used in the fic.

Spotify Playlist 

Chapter Summary: The impromptu vacation Jensen takes Y/N away on hits a bump in the road, but they find a way to make the most of it.

Chaper Warnings: Floof, Mild Implied Smut, NSFW 18+ Only

WC: 11.9K

Series Beta’d by @closetspngirl

Y/N’s dreams were staggered and yet, lucid. She knew she had been dreaming, yet nothing in it felt like a dream; more so like she was replaying a real life memory. 

She was on a stage. The lights were bright and hot, obscuring the crowd that was spread out beyond her. She could hear their cheers and screams of excitement. She could smell the faint hint of beer wafting in from the sea of darkened faces in front of her. In the dream, she looked down and saw her dad’s guitar back in her hands, and her heart swelled with both pride and ache. Love filled her, and slowly, she turned her head to stage left and saw him waiting for her there….

Jensen.

He was leaning against a speaker that stood nearly ten feet tall. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his beard was fuller than he normally kept it. Y/N could feel his eyes on her, watching, beaming with pride. She felt his joy, his devotion… and then she saw them. Two small shapes bouncing and giggling, stopping just before tumbling out onto the stage. They couldn’t have been older than three or four, and they both had Jensen’s green eyes. She knew they were her children, in the same way she knew it was all a dream. Any minute now she would wake up, and he would be lazily dozing next to her. 

Haze and smoke from the crowd began to move in a hypnotizing pattern as it swirled up and into the rafters of the stage lighting. Y/N turned back towards the crowd and knew right then, that her life was just as it should be. She found comfort and solace in the unexpected now and this dream-induced glimpse at a future that could be waiting for her, gave her soul a sort of peace she never knew was possible. 

Y/N’s eyes felt the morning light permeate her closed lids. She wasn’t sad in the least that it was time to open them and face her day. The lingering images of the dream found a place in her waking mind and settled in with excitement for seeing it all unfold in the future. But it wasn’t time yet. For now, it was time to enjoy the next two days with Jensen, in the only place on Earth she loved more than being wherever he was.

Pushing herself up and turning over to wrap her arms around Jensen, she was disappointed to find he was no longer there next to her. She knew she had slept a deep, blissful sleep, but she was still surprised that she hadn’t felt him get up. Throwing off the covers, she got up and moved around the room looking for signs of him. The bathroom was empty, as was the small sitting room that led to the door of the room. 

Y/N wrinkled her brow, curious where he could have gone. She reached into her bag and pulled out clothes for the day. Turning back towards the bed, a folded piece of pale lavender paper with her name scrawled across the front sat waiting for her on the small nightstand an arm’s reach from her side of the bed. 

“Real observant, dummy,” she mocked to herself as she reached for it. 

Trix,

Running a couple errands. Should be back by noon. Think about what you wanna do today. Still about a dozen different things I still need to try up on that boardwalk. So let’s work up an appetite and gorge on funnel cakes. 

Love ya

-J 

She held the note on the hotel stationary and tried to think of where he could have gone. Breakfast waited downstairs in the B&B’s restaurant if they were hungry, and everything else they could possibly need was here in their room. Shrugging it off as Jensen just being his usual surprising self, Y/N slipped off her thin pajama top and went into the bathroom to shower.

When Jensen still hadn’t returned by the time she was finished, she figured she would put her own surprise for him in motion. Y/N scribbled a quick note of her own about where she was going and told him to meet her there.

“Jensen isn’t the only one who can pull off a grand gesture,” she mumbled with a sly smirk as she slipped on her sandals and grabbed her small, over-the-shoulder clutch, cell phone and the keys to the room. Her mind racing at light speed, she closed the door behind her and bounded down the stairs to the lobby of The Grenville. 

Within fifteen minutes of leaving the room, Y/N had rented one of the beach cruisers the B&B had available and was within a block of arriving at her destination. Locking up the bike in front of Leo’s posh hotel and office suite, The Breakers, Y/N walked inside, and smiled as the blast of air conditioning smacked her in the face. Between the bike ride and heat of early morning, she was already sweaty and in need of a cold drink. 

As she made her way through The Breakers lobby, she smiled and waved at all the familiar faces she had known for most of her life. Her spirits were high, her head clear and focused on what she needed to talk to Leo about. But when she was standing outside his office door, her hand reaching out for the knob to open the large double doors, she heard it. A voice from her past that she thought she would never, ever have to hear again. 

Her mother’s.

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of course the tone and words were muffled, but Sherry (Y/L/N) had the kind of voice that could cut through the thickest glass with great ease. It had its way of going right through her, and suddenly triggering an immediate surge of anger and nausea. 

Through the heavy oak doors, Y/N could hear Sherry’s laugh; but not a real laugh. The woman was incapable of having any true humor. No, this was her typical sarcastic, condescending, snarky laugh; the one that said ’I am now, have been and always will be, better than you’. And not for the first time in her life, she wondered why her father was so miserable for so long about her leaving. Losing Sherry wasn’t a real loss. In fact, it probably is why Y/N ended up being the kind of person she grew into being. 

It was hearing her own name that finally prompted Y/N to twist the handle that now slipped from the nervous sweat coating on her palms. All thoughts of why she was there in the first place flew out the window. Now she just needed to know why the Wicked Witch of the East was returning to disrupt her happy life.

The air in the room, normally cool enough to hang meat, was heavy and humid. The sound of the door opening caused both Sherry and Leo to stop their conversation mid-sentence and turn to see Y/N standing there. 

Poor Leo, she thought, gauging his expression of shock, first. Poor bastard had no idea Sherry was coming…

Sherry cleared her throat, and took a confident step towards her daughter. 

“Your hair is different,” she said, and picked up one of the loose tendrils that had fallen from Y/N’s signature messy bun. “It’s dry. You should condition it more.”

Y/N turned away from Leo and allowed her (y/c/e)s to examine the woman’s face that stood in front of her. It was Sherry alright, but time had not been kind. The lines in her face were deep and telling of how rough those years had treated her. Y/N took some solace in how worn and almost broken her mother looked and was ready to fire off a quip or dig of some kind. Instead took the unexpected path, and simply said, “Thank you for that advice Sherry. Now, what brings you back to the town you couldn’t wait to disappear from?”

“Oh, my daughter…” she narrowed her eyes and made an attempt at a pleasant grin. “It’s good to know some things never change. How have you been? I heard about your exciting new career in event planning.”

“What are you doing here, Sherry?” Y/N turned from her mother and snapped her gaze intensely on Leo. “Leo… what the hell is going on?”

“Honey, relax,” Leo tutted in his most gentle tone. “I know you and your ma here have a bad history, but she is still my sister. She’s come for--”

“I can explain it myself, Leo. You don’t have to speak for me as if I am an infant.”

“Maybe if you didn’t act like one most of your life…” Y/N mumbled, her arms crossing over her breasts so tight she nearly cut off her own circulation. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well,” Sherry started, then threw her own purse on one of the cream colored wingback chairs, before sitting in the one adjacent. “I was contacted by the Manger Development Group. They are interested in buying a stretch of homes on the Seaside Heights, Lavalette border. One of the homes they are interested in is the bungalow.”

Y/N felt a twist in her gut. She wanted to sit, but she wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction to have to toss her purse from the only other free chair. “Sss-so what? What does that have to do with you? Leo owns the bungalow.”

Sherry snorted a laugh, partially covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, what? Says who?”

“Leo?” Y/N asked, but when she saw his expression, she already knew that Sherry wasn’t lying. “You own the bungalow, that’s what you told me. And that one day you would be deeding it to me.”

“I know that’s what I said, honey, but... “

“But my brother made some bad investments about eight years ago, and this time I was in a position to bail him out. He sold me the bungalow for a dirt cheap price with the promise you would never know.”

“I can’t believe this,” Y/N whispered to herself, hanging her chin towards her chest, and fighting the urge to pull her bun loose and pull out her hair. 

“The reason I am here is because the Manger group wants to tear down the stretch of homes between the end of the boardwalk and 10th Street. Everything will be cleared and brand new condos will be going up.”

“You can’t just sell my home!” Y/N yelled, surprising even herself with the child-like whine in her tone. “Leo! You can’t… she can’t.. That’s… that’s MY HOME!”

“No, actually, Y/N. It’s not. It belongs to me,” Sherry said calmly while pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have allowed you to stay there, and took no credit for it because I know how you feel about me. But it’s time to sell and move on. Besides, aren’t you living in Austin… or is it Vancouver?”

Her expression went from frustrated to ice cold. The steely gray eyes peered into Y/N’s and made her feel as she did when she was a child and being reprimanded by the woman in front of her. Sherry was daring her to take the bait, keep the fight going. Knowing she would stumble over her words and just end up looking like a child throwing a tantrum--which was just what Sherry wanted--she bit her lip.

“You told her about what I’m doing now?” Y/N turned to Leo once again. “Knowing our history and all she has put our family through, you still told her about the festival, Austin… did you tell her about Jensen, too?”

“No, Y/N, I didn’t tell her a thing about your life. I wouldn’t…”

“He’s not lying, Y/N. Other than selling me the bungalow, he’s been completely loyal to you, his niece, over me, his sister. But I can let that go… Nathan actually told me about your new life, and yes, even your new boyfriend. I always did like that Nate, no idea why you two broke up.”

Y/N’s blood began to boil beneath her skin at the sound of Nathan’s name. She swallowed thickly, the air caught somewhere in her throat. She must have gone pale, because Leo came out from behind his desk and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, you alright?”

But Y/N barely registered his voice or his touch and kept her gaze fixed on her mother. “You… you talked to Nathan?”

“Yes, several times over the last few months. He kept me very up to date on everything you’ve been doing. He’s so proud of you.”

Now she did feel as if she were going to faint. Racing thoughts plagued her mind and while she couldn’t make sense of them, she also didn’t want to believe the feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach could be true. Was it her own mother behind Nathan’s violence and not Dee? Could she be THAT cruel?

“Nathan is a psychopath…” she managed to squeak out, but once those words cleared her lips, she could feel the anger begin to flow right along with the volume of her voice. “A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH, MOTHER! Do you even KNOW what he did? Do you?! NO! Of course you don’t! You’re a fucking joke, you know that?!”

She paused for a moment, and was about to lay into Sherry further, when the office doors opened for the second time. When they all turned, Jensen was standing there in the doorway, a perplexed expression, his eyes narrowing in on Sherry as he tried to read the tension in the room.

“Someone wanna tell me what the shouting is all about?” Jensen said, taking a tentative step into Leo’s office and closing the door softly behind him. No one spoke until he reached Y/N’s side. “You alright, Trix?” he asked and protectively put his arm around the small of her back. 

“No, not even a little. Jensen, this is Sherry… my mother.”

“Oh,” he said and brought his gaze back around to Sherry, who was now standing from the chair and approaching him with her hand outstretched in a greeting. 

“Nice to meet you. You must be the Jensen I’ve heard so much about.”

“Hmm… that’s me… and, uh, who was telling you all about me? Because I know Y/N and you don’t talk so...?” Jensen trailed off and looked over to Leo, who shrugged slightly and shook his head. 

“Nathan did,” Y/N spoke up, and instantly felt Jensen’s body stiffen against hers. 

Jensen’s expression went steely and cold. “Did he now?”

“Mhm… apparently he and Sherry here have been in touch more than a few times over the last year. Isn’t that right, mom?”

“Yes. And I am sorry you think he’s a psychopath, but--”

“Wait,” Jensen interrupted with a snarky laugh. “THINK he’s a psychopath? THINK? Lady… we have first hand proof of his instability and violence. Let’s start with the fact that he put your daughter in the hospital after breaking her nose and giving her a concussion. Then, let’s move on to when he just showed up at her place in Austin, harassing her. Or how he broke into that house and trashed everything in it! If that’s not enough proof for you… the last time your daughter saw him, he jumped her in a parking lot and tried to choke her!”

Leo and Sherry stood speechless, staring at Jensen as his own anger grew. Y/N stood stoically beside him, torn between feeling sick at hearing it all back again and loving Jensen even more for standing up for her. Not too many people had ever done that for her in her life. 

“Y/N, I had no idea it was that bad…” Leo rasped, emotion filling his features. 

“Doesn’t matter Leo,” she said and pushed back her shoulders. “He’s wanted for questioning in both cases. So, Sherry, if you know where he is now, and don’t tell us or the Austin Police Department, I will have them charge you as an accessory.” Finding some new found strength, she stepped away from Jensen’s side and moved closer to her mother. “For all you have put me through, for all you put my FATHER through, if you protect Nathan, if you give him one minute of asylum, I will be more than happy to do whatever I have to for them to charge you with aiding and abetting a fugitive.”

Sherry stared at her daughter, speechless. When she turned to her brother, Leo’s sour expression said all she needed to know. “Well, I will take that under advisement,” she said as she slowly reached for her purse off the chair. 

“No need to rush out, you and Leo continue your business. Jensen and I are leaving.”

Not another word was said by any of them. As Jensen and Y/N laced their fingers together, and headed out the double doors of Leo’s office, the silence was so deafening, the world’s smallest pin could be heard dropping to the plush carpeted floor.

“Where were you this morning anyway?” Y/N asked absently as she watched the familiar scenery of the shore go by slowly out of the passenger side window of the rental car. 

“Just had to run a quick errand,” he replied nonchalantly. “What made you go to Leo’s office in the first place?”

“Oh shit,” she mumbled and shook her head in frustration. “I wanted to ask him a favor. When I walked in and saw Sherry, I completely forgot about it.”

“What favor?” 

Y/N shrugged. “Was going to ask him to borrow his boat for the afternoon. Thought we could take it out on the bay.”

“We can still find a boat rental I’m sure--”

“Nah, fuck that,” Y/N said, and suddenly sat up straighter in her seat. “Make your next right and go til you can’t go anymore. We’re taking Leo’s anyway.”

Jensen took his attention from the road to stare her down, seeing if she was serious. By the devilish gleam in her eyes and hint of the sly smile on her face, he knew without a doubt, she was.

It took barely fifteen minutes for Y/N to ransack Leo’s house for the boat keys, and another five for her and Jensen to walk down to the marina where he docked it. As they approached Leo’s thirty-eight foot Rinker Yacht, Sunset Dreams, Jensen’s eyes lit up. 

“Well damn, Trix. I thought we were taking out a small boat. Maybe we should tell him. This thing is no joke.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve taken it out before. And trust me, after what Leo did to me, he owes me one.”

“What did he do? Is that what the fighting was about back at his office? Because we never really did get to that…”

Y/N paused as she opened the gate to the Dreams’ slip. Her shoulders fell as her head dipped towards her chest. He could see just from her stance that she was feeling defeated, almost like the night of the break-in. But there was more anger in her this time and he knew that whatever had happened in that office before he got there, was weighing her down like a stone.

She turned to him and he could see she wasn’t ready to answer him. “Can we talk about it later? Right now I just want to get out on the water and not think about anything.”

Jensen took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Of course. C’mon, let’s go steal your uncle’s yacht.”

Y/N wasted no time firing up the engine, and prepping the boat to set sail. Jensen watched her movements, impressed with her knowledge and comfort in maneuvering the large vessel. She had no fear steering it from its slip at the marina and navigating it expertly through the canals that wrapped around large homes like the waterways of Venice. Occasionally, Y/N would look over her shoulder at Jensen, who stood in the same spot, just observing her every action. 

“Wanna drive, Hollywood?” 

Jensen shook his head. “Nah, I am enjoying my view from right here just fine.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked at him just like she normally did and went back to driving the boat. Where that common gesture of hers normally amused him, this time it left him feeling… wrong. 

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hand on her shoulder to turn her attention back to him. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, woman. I wasn’t trying to be cute.”

“Awww, you don’t have to try,” she teased and playfully patted his cheek. He knew her well enough at this point that he could tell she was covering any sort of “real” talk with her charming sarcastic wit. Any other time he would banter with her like this all day, but right then he felt the need to reiterate to her why he was so intently watching her.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t try and brush me off with a joke. You know why I stand here sometimes and just watch you?” His eyes searched hers curiously, and she tried to look away. Jensen wasn’t having it and gently directed her face back to his. “I mean it. Do you know?”

“N-No…” she said with a tired shrug. “Why?”

“Because you amaze me. And not just because I think you’re absolutely beautiful. It’s everything. Yes, I love your face, and your messy buns. Hell, I even love your old worn out band shirts. But I love everything you do. You tackle everything with a kind of energy and determination that is only rivaled by over-sugared toddlers at bedtime.”

Y/N couldn’t help but snort a laugh as she quickly covered her mouth and nose with her hand in mild embarrassment. 

“Yeah, you laugh… you didn’t know Jared’s kids at that age… my GOD... “ he paused, allowing his smile to fade and worked on bringing her back to his point. “Trix, you have no idea what you have brought into my life. Forget the fact that I am ridiculously head over heels in love with you… but just the things you do amaze me. You sing like an angel, create music, produce, organize… somehow can keep Robbie in line, carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and still manage to keep going. Hell, now I find out you can steal and drive a yacht like it's as simple as tying your shoes? You make me laugh, and make me feel passionate about life again. You make me believe and have faith in things that I didn’t put much stock in before. So, sometimes, when I am just sitting back and watching you… it's because I am amazed that someone as wonderful as you--for some reason--decided I was the schmuck you wanted to spend your free time with.”

Y/N’s (y/c/e) filled with tears, and despite her best efforts they spilled quickly down her cheeks. “I swear to God Jensen, if you get down on one knee right now I will throw your ass overboard,” she quipped and swiped at the remaining drops on her cheek. 

“Go for it, I can swim,” he shrugged, and brushed a stray hair from her face. “I want you to hear what I am saying. Really hear me, okay?”

She bit down on her lip and nodded softly. 

“Y/N, you have endless potential and I hate that those people who were supposed to be there to support you and encourage you, failed you. I hate what I walked in on in Leo’s office today and I don’t even have the details yet. I hated it because I could tell you felt attacked and alone. I never, ever want you to feel that way again. You got me, baby. I will be your family, your friend, your partner… and so will Robbie, Bri… all of us.”

“Jensen… I... “ she couldn’t find the words she needed. To give herself time, she quickly turned back to the control deck of the Sunset Dreams and gently guided the vessel into the open waters of the Barnegat Bay. Jensen waited for her to gather her thoughts, and didn’t press for a response or even acknowledgement of his declaration. Instead, knowing she would reply when she was ready, he stepped back and continued watching her work. 

A little while later, she killed the engine and just let the yacht float freely. Y/N turned back to Jensen, and instead of saying anything, she simply took his hand and led him out onto the cushioned seats that lined the stern. He followed her lead and sat down, but never let go of her hand. 

“Today I found out that Leo sold the bungalow to my mother. She holds the deed for the house and land.”

“Oh…” Jensen didn’t know if that was a question or a statement himself. “W-Why would he do that?”

“Sherry claims he made some bad investments, and she bailed him out for a change. That whole thing makes no sense, because no way my mother has that kind of money laying around.”

“Rich boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter anymore. She agreed to sell the land to a developer. This group wants to come in and demolish a bunch of houses right there on that stretch of beach… mine… the Sinatra house… gone. All to put up some crappy time share condos for idiots to come and trash our town.”

“Jesus…” Jensen groaned and sat back against the cushions, finally allowing her hand to slip from his. He leaned forward in frustration, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face. “Is there any way to stop her?”

“I don’t know, Jay. But… that’s my home. That’s the one thing I have left of my father.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and Jensen didn’t hesitate to pull her into him. He turned her body so that her back rested against his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, clasping his hands above her breasts. 

Jensen rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips a breath away from her ear. “Baby, no matter what… your dad is always with you,” he said softly. 

That one sentence was what finally broke her. The tears came in heaping waves and his grip on her tightened. After months and months of stress, close calls and constant fear that Nathan had caused her, Jensen wasn’t surprised in the least that she was unloading it all. She crossed her arms over his as he sat there holding her until the tears finally stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, and tried to move from his embrace. 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he replied and pulled her closer. “You’ve been holding all that in way too long.” 

“Doesn’t mean I need to snot all over you. Lemme up.” Y/N tapped his arms to let her go, and this time he complied.

Y/N disappeared down into the galley for a moment, but returned a moment later with a handful of tissues and two bottles of cold beer. She handed one to him and twisted the cap off her own before sitting back down. 

“Thank you,” she started and held her hand up to stop him when it looked like he was going to try and interrupt her. “My turn, okay?”

Jensen nodded and opened his beer.

“You’re not the only one amazed, okay? What you have done for me, what you have done for… everyone. You inspire me, Jensen. You make me want to get up and tackle things like a sugar-fueled toddler,” she snorted a delicate laugh. “You helped me come out of my shell, and do things I didn’t think I had it in me to do. You’re a great partner to work with, you’re everything a girl could ask for in a guy. So let’s just say I am as equally shocked as you are, that I am the one you want to share your time with.”

“I didn’t say all that to make you--”

“Hush. I’m talking now, Hollywood. You had your turn.”

Y/N took a sip of her beer then inched a bit closer to Jensen. She caressed the side of his cheek and leaned in to kiss his lips, longingly, but gentle. “I love you, Jensen. No matter what happens from here on out, never doubt that.”

“Even when I know deep down that it was Robert who has really captured your heart,” he replied; his ability to keep a straight face was absolutely infuriating to Y/N, who’s serious demeanor cracked instantly. 

“Yes, jerk. Even though Robert will always secretly be my number one. But never tell him, it will just go to his head.” 

She couldn’t dismiss the smile that had returned to her face, nor did she want too. Only Jensen knew just what to say, and how to say it, so she could say what she needed to, and yet moments later come back to their version of normal; smiling and joking with each other as they always did.

Jensen cleared his throat and took her hand in his again, giving it a slight squeeze. “I just want to say one more thing, and then we can drop it for now, okay?”

Y/N nodded and motioned for him to continue. 

“Let me look into the developers and see what’s going on. If I can help, I want to. But I won’t without your okay. I want to work with you, never against you.”

“Okay,” she said, and kissed him again. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“That’s my girl.” Jensen winked at her and pulled a long drink from his bottle. “Now, whatcha say we get some music on, and now you let me drive this baby further out into the bay?”

For the next hour, Jensen navigated the boat through the bay, while Y/N pointed out all the places she had fond memories of from growing up in Seaside. He listened to each detail, soaking in as much about her past as he was of the hot September sun. They laughed a lot, and occasionally he would notice her looking off into the distance, quiet and contemplative. He didn’t intrude on those moments; he wanted her to be able to let her mind wander, but knew he had the ability to pull her back when she started drifting too far from him. 

After several hours, the heat of the day was getting intense. Being out on the water provided a cooling breeze, but the feeling of the sun on their skin was making it borderline uncomfortable. 

Y/N went down into the galley to grab them each a cold water. When she returned, she placed his on the side of the controls and asked, “Wanna go for a swim?”

“Where? Here in the bay? Is that safe with all the jet skis and other boats?”

“No, I know a safe spot we can anchor and take a quick swim.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit. Someone forgot to inform me of our plans to steal a yacht today.” Jensen frowned and shrugged playfully. 

“Oh, please. I am sure there is a suit down in the galley you can borrow. Or…” she trailed off, and leaned back to check out his ass. “I have no problem watching you go skinny dipping.”

“We’ve talked about this, Trix. You need to love me for more than just my body.”

“I do, I promise. I love your front as much as your back.”

“Alright, perv… where’s this ‘safe spot’ you wanna get me naked at?”

Y/N wiggled her brows and flashed him that same grin she had when she suggested stealing Leo’s yacht. Jensen didn’t think he could be anymore in love with her than he was at that moment. She was fun, and easy to be with. Even in the moments where things looked bleak, or they struggled with outside influences like Dee and Nathan, Y/N was still the only woman he could ever imagine loving for the rest of his life. 

Twenty minutes later, she was instructing Jensen on how to drop the anchor and shut down the engines. Once the boat was secured, she retrieved a pair of swim trunks for him to change into. Y/N didn’t wait for him to return, she peeled off her tank top and shorts, revealing the simple dark blue bikini beneath it and dove head first into the cool bay water. When she surfaced, she saw Jensen standing at the stern, his hands on his hips and a contented soft smile on his lips. 

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

“Nope. Too damn hot to wait for you. Come on in, the water feels amazing!”

Y/N dipped beneath the water again, submerging her head completely then propelling herself back up when she felt Jensen splash into the water beside her. They were the only two in sight; no other boats around, no people watching from the shoreline. They were alone in their own little world and neither of them could have been happier. 

Splashing at each other, swimming and even a little bet on who could make it back to the boat the fastest kept them busy until each of their stomachs started rumbling at nearly the same exact moment. 

“Guess maybe we should eat something,” she suggested as she swam by him towards the boat’s ladder. 

“Not so fast, Trix,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and yanking her against him. 

He loved how she felt when she was close and could never seem to get enough of her. Since she agreed to stay with him in Vancouver, they had been together countless times. Never once did he tire of her touch, or her kiss. The more days that passed by, the more he craved her. Just the thought of it caused him to grow hard, and his mouth went to her neck, biting and kissing from her shoulder up to her ear. 

Y/N was just as infatuated with his touch as he was with hers, and didn’t hesitate to stretch out her neck to let him kiss her. She wanted him to keep going, to take her right there in the water. If not for another loud rumble from her stomach, she would have encouraged him to do so. 

“Jay…” she moaned just loud enough for him to hear her over the small waves lapping against the boat. “Wait…”

“Hmmm?” he replied without removing his lips from her neck. 

She laughed and struggled out of his embrace. When she finally broke free, she swam back towards the boat. 

“Come on, Trix!”

“Dude, I need to eat. So do you. There’s a restaurant less than a mile from here that has a parking lot for boats. We can go eat, then come back and pick this up.”

“Seriously? A parking lot for boats… you mean… a marina?”

“I seriously hate you right now. Come on, let’s get dry and dressed, go eat and then maybe, if you aren’t being a pain in the ass, I’ll let you get to second base.”

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh as she flashed him a challenging expression just before she reboarded the boat. Lifting one of the cushioned seats, she pulled out two towels and wrapped one around her shoulders. When he realized she wasn’t getting back in the water, he sighed and resigned himself to just having to wait to have her until later. 

Within an hour Jensen was directing the Sunset Dreams into a slip at the Water Street Restaurant and Marina. He got a little to close on the starboard side and nearly hit another boat.

“One too many beers there, Captain?” She teased, “Maybe next time I should be the one to park.”

Deciding to ignore her jab, he offered his elbow and escorted her to dinner at Water Street. As they approached the patio entrance, they both realized just how crowded the place was. Forgetting it was Labor Day weekend at the shore, Y/N turned to him and shrugged. 

“Sorry… maybe this place isn’t a good idea. I can tell you right now, you will get recognized and bombarded by people if we walk in there. Don’t know where my head is at today… Tomorrow is Labor Day, every restaurant in this town is going to be insanely busy.”

“They do take out? Let’s grab a bunch of apps and just go back to the boat. Besides, I really wanna get back to what we were doing before. That is much more appetizing to me right now than a plate of mozzarella sticks.”

As if on cue, a waitress walked through the patio carrying a large tray of food. The smell of which smacked Jensen right in the face and immediately caused his stomach to grumble in protest loud enough for Y/N to hear it clearly.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Take out is a great idea. Head back to the boat, I’ll order up some stuff and meet you back there.”

“You sure?” he asked and when she nodded, he leaned in and kissed her lips. “Alright… get some wings… maybe some onion rings.” She nodded again and went to head inside. “Wait, Trix! If they got nachos---”

“On it,” she laughed and left him with a wink and that smile that could bring him to his damn knees.

For as busy as the place was, it didn’t take Y/N too long to return with their take-out order. She chose four different appetizers for them to share, plus a six-pack of a local brew she liked. He was impressed with the craft beer, and as he suggested getting some for the festival she shook her head. 

“Already done. They came on board two months ago and will have a booth right next to Javier and Midway.”

“Told you that you were amazing,” Jensen mused and took another swig from the bottle before shoving a handful of nachos into his mouth. “Alright, enough work talk. Let’s get this bad boy back out to the bay so I can have my way with you.”

“Good lord man, can’t you let your food settle? You’re liable to get a cramp.”

“Oh, I’m gonna stiffen up alright…” Jensen took the onion ring from her hand and tossed it back in the container, before he lowered himself down towards her. He was being playful and flirty, no real intentions of taking her right there on the stern of the boat in front of a patio full of diners. But hearing her laugh as she smacked his shoulder, trying to thwart his advances, made his heart flutter and his knees go weak. 

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N laughed and got up from her seat. “Why don’t you clean up, and I’ll get the boat going to head back towards Leo’s. I am sure we could find a quiet place to anchor for an hour or so; make good use of that stateroom.”

She kissed him sweetly and when he was wrapped up in returning it, she slipped out from under him. 

“That’s the second time today you’ve denied me, Trix. Careful or I’m going to develop a complex.”

“Ha! Okay… whatever you say, Hollywood,” she said as she blew him a kiss and headed up to the Captain’s Chair to get the Sunset Dreams in motion.

Once the engines were roaring, she carefully maneuvered the vessel out of its slip and back into the channel that led to the open bay waters. It was a tight squeeze through Water Street’s marina, but she took her time and eventually got the boat clear and headed towards open waters. She could hear Jensen below deck, humming to himself as he went about cleaning up. A minute or two later, music began playing from the galley and she correctly assumed he found Leo’s hidden stereo system that was wired to play through the entire vessel. While he scanned the radio stations, she kept her vision straight ahead but her thoughts reflected on the day.

Their earlier conversation was fresh in her mind, though she tried her best not to show him how much it had affected her. She knew that he loved her, and that she could trust him. But the way he handled her mother, the way he held her and just let her cry… the overwhelming surge of love she felt for him was unexpected and threw her for a loop. She was scared, but invigorated by the excitement he made her feel. She could be her authentic self around him with no worry of judgement or repercussions. Other than her father, she never felt like that around anyone else in her life.

From below, she could hear him scanning the stations and when he finally found something he liked, she heard the volume turn all the way up. He was singing along at the top of his lungs as he moved around down there. Y/N had to resist the urge to go wrap her arms around him, then let him take her to bed. She gave one last look at the gauges and noticed gas was low. Knowing there was enough to hit the cove, then get back to Leo’s marina, she set the course to head back to the secluded spot for a bit before returning her uncle’s prized vessel.

Jensen had finished cleaning up and fiddled with the radio for a bit trying to find a good XM Station. He caught a classic rock one that played one great song after the next, and when Bryan Adam’s Summer of 69 started up three songs later, he celebrated with a quiet fist pump and began to sing along again. He was so wrapped up in the song and tidying up around the galley, he never felt the Sunset Dreams come to a stop, nor did he hear Y/N come down the small flight of stairs. 

By the second chorus, he turned and saw her there. A grin on her face stretched ear to ear, casually leaning against the frame of the doorway that led down into the small kitchen area. Jensen didn’t care for a second that he got busted, nor did he miss a beat. He went to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her down the steps and into the kitchenette. Jensen moved her in animated fashion, twirling her around the galley, then gripping her waist tight, and dipping her back as he sang at the top of his lungs…

“Oh when you held my hand, 

I knew that it was now or never.

Those were the best days of my life.

OH YEAH!”

His whole demeanor caused her to erupt with laughter. The more he danced and sang with her, the harder she laughed. When the song finally ended, they were both trying to catch their breath. The first few notes of Bad Company’s Feel Like Makin’ Love began to play through the speakers, and any thoughts either of them had to take a breather, was gone. 

Jensen’s hands were on her waist again, pulling her closer against him. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Clothes flew off in all directions as he walked her back a few steps towards the small bedroom. Y/N fell back onto the bed and giggled as Jensen struggled to get his last bit of clothing off before he pulled down her bikini bottoms. He stood back for a moment and just allowed his eyes to drink her in and appreciate just how magical she really was. Every inch of her body, flawed or not, was beautiful to him. From a single strand of hair, down to the tips of her toes, there wasn’t an inch of her he wasn’t fascinated by. 

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows and flashed him a wanting look. “Jay… you’re doing that staring thing again.”

“How could I not... “ he slowly climbed on the bed, gently pushed her to lay down and hovered his body over hers. “...when I have the most amazing woman in the world, naked, laying here in front of me.”

“You’re gonna get laid, you don’t have to lay it on so thick,” she teased. 

His eyes grabbed hers and refused to let go. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy and low. “I know there’s a dirty joke in there somewhere, but right now all I want to do is show you how much I love you.”

Jensen kissed her sweetly, but the sweetness faded to passion almost immediately. They didn’t need foreplay; the whole day had been leading up to this moment. She was ready for him, and relished in the way he took her; slowly letting himself slide into the part of her that ached most for him, and letting his lips linger on hers as he did. Y/N softly moaned his name as her head dipped back, and his mouth trailed lingering kisses down her chin to her neck. 

There was no hurry, no animalistic urge taking over this time. Each time their bodies came together, the rush of love and intimacy was what made it feel euphoric. Sex was a common occurrence for them and never once had it been mediocre or vanilla. They made love until their bodies couldn’t hold out any longer, and when Y/N’s orgasm hit her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, pulling his mouth to hers as she whispered “I love you” into his lips. Her words alone made Jensen’s climax follow, and he gripped her just as tight. 

When his body stopped shaking, he rolled off her and laid on the bed beside her. He immediately drew her against him, and she rested her head on his chest while his fingers lightly glided along her arm. 

“I love you, Trix,” he said softly, followed by a loving kiss against her forehead. “More than I could ever really explain.”

Y/N snuggled closer into him and closed her eyes. She felt her body relax against his, and as his breathing slowed and leveled out, Y/N could feel herself fall further into a state of relaxation that she hadn’t felt in a long time. The sun, water, food and sex had done them in and Y/N and Jensen were lulled to sleep by the gentle waves rocking the Sunset Dreams.

By the time Y/N opened her eyes again, the light in the stateroom was much dimmer than it had been when they stumbled in earlier. She sat straight up and immediately felt how cold the room had become. 

“What the fuck,” she mumbled, then looked over at Jensen, who was still snoring softly beside her. “Jensen… Jay… wake up.” She gave his arm a tap, waited a moment, then gave him a harder tap. 

He woke up with a snort, and wiped at some drool that had escaped the corner of his mouth.  “What time… where…” the roar of a jet ski engine whizzed past the port window, “right… Boat.”

“We passed out,” she said as she got up off the bed, taking the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Why is it so cold in here? Did we sleep until winter?”

“Oh shit, no. I forgot, when I came down here earlier to clean up, I found the air conditioning controls. Thought I would cool it off down here since it was so hot out on deck before.”

Y/N heard his words, but couldn’t react. After he said the words air conditioner, her mind was reeling. 

“No… no no no,” she mumbled and started to scan the floor for her clothes. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I just--just wait. Let me…” she got distracted looking for her clothes, then remembered the rest were in the kitchen. Jensen, half amused, watched her with fascination as she procured her top and shorts and tried to put them on as she stumbled through the galley towards the stairs to the deck. “Be right back!”

Y/N got to the Captain’s chair and checked the gauges. She saw the gas had run down lower, but it still registered there was enough fuel to get them back. She fell back into the seat with a relieved sigh and laughed to herself. Jensen appeared a moment later, back to fully clothed and peering over her shoulder with concern. 

“We okay? Something wrong?”

“Low on fuel. Thought the AC would have drained it but I guess we’re good,” she shrugged, and went to turn the engines back on. 

When they first failed to turn over, she brushed it off, waited a moment and tried again. Nothing. Looking back over her shoulder, Jensen replied with a silent shrug. Y/N tried again, and this time, the gas gauge fell straight to E. 

“What the fuck,” she mumbled and flicked it with her fingers. When she did, it sprang back up to full, then fell to half, then fell back to empty. She felt her stomach drop, then couldn’t help the fit of laughter that followed. 

Jensen watched her in amusement. “What?” 

“Gauge is broken,” she laughed, “we’re out of gas.”

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, half joking, half serious. “Tell me you’re joking, Trix.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wish I could, but… nooope. We are stuck.”

“You’re way too cool about this.”

“It’s not a big deal, but--” Y/N’s cell phone started to ring from the depths of her clutch down in the galley, cutting off her words. “How much you wanna bet that’s Leo.”

Y/N jumped up and ran down into the galley, grabbing it on the last ring before voicemail. 

“Hello?” she answered half breathless.

“You took it again, didn’t you?” Leo asked, his tone already resigned with knowing.

“Ummm… yeah.”

“Wish you woulda asked. Gas gauge is broken.”

“Sorta just figured that out. That’s actually why I came to the office this morning. Was going to ask you to borrow the boat today.”

“Honey, about that--”

“Leo, I appreciate you wanting to talk, but right now, I just wanna get this thing moving and come back; enjoy the rest of my vacation. I promise you, we will talk though.”

“Alright. If that’s what you want to do. I’ll give Gus a call and have him meet you out that way. Where are ya?”

“We are anchored out by the cove, across from Water Street.”

“Hang tight. Have someone out soon.”

They said their goodbyes, and Y/N returned her phone to the counter with a relieved sigh. She knew her uncle wouldn’t care about the boat. A service call for a fill up is a drop in the bucket for him. The relief was more because he didn’t press the issue. Leo liked to talk things out to death sometimes, and that weekend was for her and Jensen. Sherry’s unexpected return already threw a wrench in things, but she didn’t want to go back to that dumpster fire of a situation.

Y/N turned to head back up, and Jensen was already coming down the stairs. “What’d he say?”

“He’s sending out his friend Gus with fuel. Gus doesn’t live too far from here, and it’s not the first time this has happened so…” she trailed off with a shrug, but a bit of melancholy threatened beneath it. “It will take him an hour at least. You already cleaned up in here, I’ll go take care of the stateroom.”

She turned to leave and Jensen gently grabbed her arm. “Whoa, whoa. Hold on there, Trix. What’s up? Don’t act all cool for my benefit. What else did Leo say?”

“Just wanted to talk about what happened today. Told him we could, just not now. I just want to enjoy our time together. Not think about anymore bullshit.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Jensen smiled at her softly, the crinkles around his eyes slightly more defined. As he cupped the side of her face with his palm, she leaned into him and closed her eyes. She leaned forward and rested her head against his chest as he moved his arms to wrap around her snuggly. “The rest of today and tomorrow. It’s all for us. Then Tuesday we get back to real life. Until then, I say we have the best damn time we can have. Eat and drink ourselves into a comatose state and then wake up and go nuts on each other.”

Y/N snorted a laugh into his chest and when she looked up at him, he was flashing her a cheesy smile and wiggling his brows. 

“You read my mind,” she replied and hugged him back while she rested her head back on his chest.

“Good. So, what’s on tonight’s agenda?”

“Let’s go find a bar with some live music, have a few shots, few drinks… go make out on the beach again.”

“See, this is why we get along so well,” Jensen teased. “Now go clean up in there, woman, I’ll get our stuff together.”

A couple hours later, Leo’s boat had been returned, and Jensen and Y/N finally made their way to their room at the Grenville. Each enjoyed a refreshingly cool shower and changed, ready for a night out on the boardwalk. After some quick Google searching and little consideration, Y/N told him where to go so they could go check out EJ’s Tap House. She had been there many times before and knew the venue well. It was a corner bar up on the boardwalk, right at the end of the pier with the rides. They always had great live bands, and the beer on tap was cold ‘n cheap. It was easily her favorite place to hang out in. 

Jensen parked the rental car, and was once again hit in the face with the overwhelming aroma of boardwalk food. 

“I know we ate but damn, we are going to have to get something up here later.”

“It’s Labor Day weekend, everything will be open, I promise,” she laughed and caught up to him in front of the car. Jensen grabbed her hand and led the way up the ramp to the main boardwalk.

The band playing that night at EJ’s was one Y/N had seen a few times in a variety of places up and down the shore. 7Minds was a popular local band, but had turned her down when she approached them about the festival. When she saw they were playing at her favorite bar, she knew that’s where they needed to go.

As they walked through the room, they found a quiet table off to the side of the stage. Once the seats were claimed, Jensen went to the bar to get their drinks, and Y/N sat watching the band set up the stage with their mics, speakers and instruments. As a musician herself, she was always fascinated with other musicians’ and their process of setting their stage. She had never played anything much bigger than a burlesque show at the Bamboo; but with that she had the rest of the cast, props… costumes. She could become Trixie Luna and transform herself into someone with the real confidence it takes to fill a stage. As she sat and watched, she couldn’t help but question if she could do that as herself, and more importantly, BY herself. Robbie was so adamant about her playing a set. But even with the promise of Louden Swain behind her, she didn’t know if her presence would be enough to conquer the stage successfully.

By the time Jensen returned with their drinks, the band had finished their setup, then vacated the stage. Due to start in a few minutes, Jensen moved his chair to sit beside her and get a better view.

“Is this one of the festival bands?” he asked after sipping at his bottle of beer.

“Nope, they turned me down.”

“Seriously? Why? H-How do you turn down an opportunity like that?”

Y/N shrugged. “Never really got a firm reason. They just declined every time I called. Wouldn’t even really hear me out.”

“Then why did you wanna come hear them play? Screw them.”

“They’re a good band, Jay. They got a big following. Thought if I could catch them in person... “ she gave an innocent shrug and took a swig from her own bottle.

“Ah, I gotcha. Gonna corner them and turn on the charm… good plan.”

“No, I’ll corner them, YOU charm them. I need you to put your famous face to work, baby,” she winked animatedly and shot him a finger gun.

He feigned disgust with her and leaned back in his chair. “How dare you, madam. I am not your whore. Just a pretty face to peddle out when you need something.”

She playfully blew him off. “Mmmhmm, whatever you say.”

“Seriously though, I thought you wanted to just enjoy the weekend. No family drama, no work…”

“Have you seen me pick up my cell phone once?”

“Leo did call earlier.”

She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen me pick up my phone for WORK, once?”

“No, I have not.”

“See, I’m being good. But, I want to give it one more try with them. If they aren’t even slightly receptive, I won’t push it.”

“Promise? Cause I’ve seen you work. I know how persistent you can be.”

“That’s when I was trying to impress you. You’re mine now. I can stop trying,” Y/N shrugged and casually looked away.

Before Jensen could throw out yet another sarcastic remark, the band interrupted his thought as they took the stage. All seven members got ready and within a minute, their instruments were in hand and they began to jam. 

Right off the bat, Jensen could see why she was still in pursuit of them for the festival. Their sound was a very unique blend of Jazz, Rap and Ska, and their energy was off the charts.  The set list varied in covers and originals, one of which made the crowd scream with excitement as the opening notes of the local’s favorite Seaside Tony began to play. Jensen found himself laughing at the lyrics and tapping his feet to the music.

The crowd was singing along, and the vibe of the bar was infectious. Jensen kept stealing glances over at Y/N, and found he enjoyed watching her even more than the band and the crowd. Her eyes were as wide as her smile as she moved to the music in her chair. 

Eventually she felt him watching her, and instead of calling him out on it, she leaned in closer to him. “They’re awesome, aren’t they? I love how they just command the entire place’s attention.”

“They are friggin’ fantastic! Kinda hard not to command a room with seven guys on the stage and making that level of noise.”

“I’ve seen them do it with some slower covers too. They’re just infections.”

“So are you, you know,” he said and gave her a look that said, you better know it.

“I’m serious, Jay-”

“So am I, Y/N. You could get up there right now, with nothing but a guitar and get just as much attention as these guys do. In fact, I bet you anything you could do it.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see. I’m supposed to play a set with Robbie and the guys at the festival…”

“Don’t tell me you're nervous?”

“Of course I am,” she laughed and turned her body away from the stage to face him. “I’m terrified, Jensen. Look at those guys, this is like second nature to them.”

“I’ve seen you on a stage, it's in your nature, too.”

“No, not like that. Not--” Y/N stopped herself and looked back at the stage. She didn’t know how to describe her fear so that he could understand. “It’s not that… I know I am meant to write, play and create music; to work with other musicians. I guess I’m just not yet convinced I am meant to be in the spotlight. I play smaller bars than this. To play EJ’s would have been a dream come true.”

“Yeah, so… do it. You could get up there and take this whole place over. You’ll do it at the festival, too. I know you will.”

The love and encouragement he flooded her with in his gaze was physically overwhelming. She could feel her nerves begin to fade, not completely, but enough to waylay them for the moment. 

“What the hell did I do in this world to have met somebody like you? You’re not real… you can’t be.”

“Why? Because I have faith in you? Because the way you interpret music and the sound of your voice fascinates me? Baby, that’s all you. I’m just along for the ride and holding on for dear life. Because I never, ever want to be without you or the feeling you give me.”

Y/N leaned in and kissed him, letting her lips linger for a moment before pulling away. She wanted to say I love you, but the words got stuck somewhere in her throat. She’d said them to him a dozen times or more, but right then and there, all she could do was smile.

The band interrupted their moment when they announced they were taking a short break. Jensen gave Y/N a wink, and without saying anything, got up from the table. Y/N assumed he was going for another round, or maybe a chance at the bathroom before the line grew again. Y/N was lost in her own thoughts about Jensen and the festival, when she felt the presence of someone approaching. Looking up with a wide grin, thinking it was Jensen, it quickly faded into a surprise when she saw one of the guys from the band standing in front of her.

“Hey, this is probably weird but, are you (Y/N L/N)? I’m Casey… I play the trumpet in the band.” His hand reached out to hers, and as she shook it, she remembered him more clearly. 

“Yes, I am, and I remember you, Casey. We spoke on the phone, twice.”

“We did?” he said, his face scrunched curiously trying to remember as he ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. 

“About the festival, in Austin later this month….”

“Hmmm…. No, I know you from the Bamboo. You sing with The Corsettes, right?”

“Yeah, I do. But you don’t remember talking to me… turning me down for the music festival in Austin?”

Casey pulled out Jensen’s seat and sat it in. “Naw dude, I have no idea. I mean, I vaguely remember one of the guys mentioning it, but he said it was all bogus.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “Bogus? Naw dude,” she replied, mocking his response. “It’s very real. I’ve spent the last almost year of my life helping to plan it.”

She gave Casey the short version of the details about the festival, and could tell it was the first he was hearing it all. When she finished, he leaned back in his seat, and again ran his hand through his hair. 

“Man, I’m gonna kill these guys. That sounds fucking amazing. We would have jumped at the chance to play something like that!”

“It’s not too late, I am sure we could find a place for you if you wanna talk to them about it.”

“Most definitely--”

Jensen cleared his throat, stopped Casey in mid thought. “Sorry pal, the girl and the seat are both taken.” He carefully placed the two drinks on the table and straightened his shoulders, keeping his eyes glued to the strange guy in his seat. 

“Oh, my bad man! I just recognized Y/N and wanted to come say hi. Then she told me about the festival, and--” this time, Casey interrupted himself and starred at Jensen in disbelief. “Holy shit! Dude! I know you too! You’re on TV! My sister watches your show constantly!” 

Casey jumped up from the seat and stretched out his hand to Jensen. Jensen’s steely expression fell and was quickly replaced by a smile. “Oh wow, that’s awesome,” he said, shaking Casey’s hand. “Tell your sister I said thank you for watching.”

“This night is crazy,” Casey laughed and shook his head as he pulled out his cell phone. “Can I get a picture with you guys?!”

“Sure man,” Jensen agreed and went to stand closer to Casey. 

“You guys go for it, I’ll take the pic,” Y/N suggested, but Casey shook his head.

“Hell no, you’re in this too!” Casey waved her over, insisting, so she went. 

They snapped a few pictures and Casey tucked away his phone. “I gotta get back but hang out till after our set if you can and let me have more info on that festival. If it's not too late, we are definitely in!”

Y/N agreed and as Casey started to walk away, Jensen grabbed his shoulder and said something quietly. Between the noise of the bar, and the band starting to re-enter the stage, Y/N couldn’t hear what Jensen had said. Brushing it off, Y/N picked up her fresh bottle of beer Jensen brought over and waited for the band to start up again.

They played another hour long set, and the crowd’s energy didn’t dissipate once. Playing all the fan favorites, they slipped in a few covers before the set wound down. After their original Smuggling Snails, Casey approached the main microphone on the stage, as the other front men of 7Minds took a few steps back out of the spotlight.

“Thank you guys so much for always coming out to jam with us, sing along and get sloppy ass drunk while doing it! Before we close tonight though, I want to invite a local fan favorite to join us up here. Most of you guys have probably seen her at the Bamboo, leading those sexy ass Corsettes around, or strumming her guitar down at the Beachcomber on Sunday nights. Either way, tonight, she belongs to us and EJ’s Tap House! Y/N L/N, get your man and get your ass up here!”

Y/N’s stomach dropped and when she looked over at Jensen, he was grinning ear to ear. 

“Did you do this?” she asked, her face wrought with shock. “When you talked to him before he left, did you tell him to do this?”

“No ma’am,” he said, shaking his head, then holding up his infamous Boy Scout salute. “Scout’s Honor.”

From the stage, Casey’s voice filled the sound system thru the bar, “Come on, Y/N! Show these people what they’re hometown girl can do!”

Y/N smiled at him nervously, and slowly began to stand up. “You’re coming with me,” she muttered as she reluctantly moved closer to the stage. The crowd was starting to send her cheers of encouragement, which helped move her feet along. 

Jensen was right at her side. When they got on the stage, all but one member of the band stepped out of sight, leaving only the acoustic guitar player ready to accompany them. As Y/N and Jensen climbed the short staircase to the stage, the guitar player whispered, “What do you guys wanna do?”

Y/N went blank, all the songs, duets in particular, she and Jensen had discussed singing were completely vacated from her head. But Jensen didn’t hesitate, he leaned in and whispered to the man, Shallow. Yes, they had discussed it, but they hadn’t practiced that one together yet. Knowing exactly where her thoughts were headed, Jensen gave her hand a quick squeeze as he walked behind her to approach the second mic. 

The guitar player began to strum the first few notes of the song, and the crowd picked up on the song immediately. Most of the women in the place responded with excited hoots and hollers. Y/N gave Jensen a nervous glance, and as the music rounded to his beginning lyrics, he gave her a little wink and began to sing. 

“Tell me somethin', girl

Are you happy in this modern world?

Or do you need more?

Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

I'm falling

In all the good times I find myself

Longin' for change

And in the bad times I fear myself...”

Y/N loved the sound of his voice, and any time she heard it, she found herself getting lost in his full, rich tone with the gritty edges. She was so mesmerized by him singing those few lines, the nerves the crowd gave her dissipated almost immediately. Being on stage, singing next to him, gave her an immediate bout of confidence she didn’t know was possible.

The acoustic guitar came around to her first lines, and when she began to sing, she closed her eyes and just let Jensen’s presence guide her. 

“Tell me something, boy

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Or do you need more?

Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?

I'm falling

In all the good times I find myself

Longing for a change

And in the bad times I fear myself”

As she sang the words, it was as if she was hearing them for the first time. The words, so perfectly suited for her and her life… always fearful, afraid of change, yet longing for adventure. The way her life was, to the way her life is… she felt her stomach surge with passion, and the heat from the lights fell warm on her skin. The melody of the guitar began to swell, and so did her voice.

“I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in

I'll never meet the ground

Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us

We're far from the shallow now”

When Jensen’s voice reconnected with hers for the chorus, they blended together flawlessly. The harmony was so perfect, she couldn’t help but smile and look over at him. Their eyes locked as they sang...

“In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow

We’re far from the shallow now...”

He backed off from the microphone again, letting her carry the song to the bridge. Her voice carrying over the crowd and completely captivating them into near silence. Until the very end, Y/N let herself go and felt the words and the music surging through her.

“Oh. oohhhh, oh, ohhhh, ohhhhhhhhh….

Ohhh Oh, oohh oohhhhhhhhhhhh….

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in

I'll never meet the ground

Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us

We're far from the shallow now”

One more time, Jensen joined her to carry the song to the end. When they finished, they were again looking at each other. The roar of the bar crowd was deafening and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around Jensen’s neck and hugging him with every ounce of adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. 

As he held her close, his lips were gentle against her ears. “They love you Trix, and so do I.”

Tag List: 

Everything:  @coffeebooksandfandom / @sorenmarie87 / @yallgotkik / @thefaithfulwriter / @sister-winchesters99 / @thymeheals / @keymology / @divadinag

SPN RPF (Jensen): @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness / @sandlee44 / @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @teaspoin / @whiskeyandapplepie / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @adoptdontshoppets / @squirrelnotsam / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @his-paradox / @deansenwackles / @destielhoneybee

When You Least Expect It:  @mrsjenniferwinchester / @vickyfarley / @winchest09 / @jerkbitchidjitassbutt / @aomi-nabi / @luciathewinchestergirl / @alexiswinchester / @seppys-return-to-madness / @donnaintx / @deans-baby-momma / @the-is13 / @stoneyggirl / @captaindorit0 / @fanfictionjunkie1112 / @focusonspn / @deanwanddamons / @theebeee / @ultimatecin73​ / @deanwinchesterswitch​

Wanna get in on one of my tag lists? View the different Tag Lists, and send me an ask with which one you’d like to be on! Series Tags are on one sheet, Character tags on a second sheet.

[tylerwritez]

TUESDAY JULY 13 10:42 A.M.

JUDE IS BACK FROM HIS HIATUS!!!!

One thing I think I will no longer be doing is writing down negative feelings and thoughts and... leaving them there. No. Next time I vent, I delete it right after.

If you want something to be sad over, you'll find something. But if you GENUINELY ATTEMPT to be happy, you will be.

So try harder.

Also, my new phone background is a collage thing of me and my friends at Rebecca's house.

I originally did it as this cool way to remember my besties XD but now it also kinda helps my #SelfEsteem because whenever I think my face is ugly, I look at my phone background and I'm like "that's what you look like, no filter, nothing" and it makes me happier because in that background image I just see a boy being stupid with his friends and I sorta smile like "yeah, that IS what I look like, no filter"

I like it cos, those pictures were taken without me doing anyhting to try and look better, so I KNOW that's like. How I REALLY look. And tbh? Not that bad.

I don't even really mind my smile lines anymore. Cos they're from SMILING!!! means I'm a happy guy.

ALSO I THINK I PASS IN MY BACKGROUND? because I'm that kinda of ugly that says "male" yk, especially next to my friends who are girls/nonbinary I just seem so Boy idk its gender... the photo set is very Gender for my face XDDD THIS IS REALLY STUPID

oh well. Positivity only now, babes.

Also! You may have noticed my HIATUs from posting!!! Yeah, I'll still post, and I'll update y'all on my life... but NOT DAILY... I don't really have the time for that.

I'll do it maybe whenever I feel like, but I'll try and stick to weekly, biweekly, idk, whenever I feel like I should talk about my life, whenever things happen.

Right now I'm actually on a roadtrip!!!

We just spent a day on all the amusement park rides at the Calgary Stampede!! It was AWESOME.

Also we have spent time in #nature and I'm COLLECTING! ROCKS! >:) THEY ARE WAY COOLER OUTSIDE MY HOMETOWN JUST SAYING...

Maybe I'll find a hagstone.

So far no, I've only found cool stripey ones but no hagstones.

Maybe I'm not meant to find a hagstone. Maybe whatever gives me my good luck is protection enough.

ACTUALLY, ON THAT NOTE, I HAVEN'T STOLEN ANYTHING FOR THIS WHOLE TRIP... SO LIKE 1 OR 2 WEEKS. WHICH IS CRAZY!!! PROUD OF MYSELF :)

ALSO I HAVEN'T CUT MYSELF FOR LIKE A MONTH MAYBE(?) WHICH IS SO WOW.

see? I can totally do this! You'll see.

Lately I haven't been stressing AT ALL. like. So much happiness and fun, out on my roadtripppp!

I have had a few stressors.... but like. I've done my best to push them aside, because I know it'll be better not to think about them.

Like, I'm starting to think all my unhappiness cOMES FROM THINKING ABOUT MY STRESSORS TOO MUCH... OVERTHINKING.

However, if I tell myself "don't worry, you'll find a way, you always do" and then try n forget, I'm so much happier.

Here are my current #stressors... since everyone loves some drama (I'm listing em)

1. I MIGHT LOSE MY VIRGINITY UHHHH AND IM NERVOUS AND IDK IF I SHOULD OR WHAT ITLL  FEEL LIKE OR IF I SHOULD WAIT.... AAAAAAAA IDK ITS KINDA SCARY COS WHAT IF IT HURTS A LOT... WHAT IF IT FUCKS ME UP. IDK. I KNOW NOTHING.

2. MY STEALING + CUTTING ISSUES... LIKE. I'M ADDICTED???? AND OFC IM HAPPY I MANAGE TO GET BY WITHOUT IT BUT SOMETIMES ITS VERY HARD. TO RESIST. YOUR URGES.

man if that god guy is real I bet hes happy with me (or I guess god can be a girl, or nonbinary, or maybe is not male but still uses he/him, or maybe DOESNT use he him pronouns and we are fuckig it up???? Idk I will just say "he")

(I doubt god has a gender tho lol. He made man and woman in his image yeah? So then.... uh.... he would be intersex(?)

Personally I think god has No genitals at all and No gender either. But then again, I dont even believe in a god...)

ALL IM SAYING IS. IF GOD WAS REAL. THEY WOULD PROBABLY BE PLEASED THAT I AM. RESISTING SIN? SO WELL.

... cos cutting yourself IS a sin....

That used to upset me so much dude. I read this bible passage... and it would be CONSTANTLY referenced. Your body is a temple. Its sinful to harm your body. Its sinful to use drugs, is what they said at school, but like. What about other types of intentional harm? Sin. Sinful.

I used to be so invested in that Catholicism shit, man. And afterward, after I. Did the cutting. I'd be covered in half dried sticky blood. I'd smell the metallic smell so strongly.... because I bled out A LOT... its incredible to me honeslty, how such minor styros and occasional light fat cuts can gush out so MUCH blood. It's a lot. It's more than you'd expect from a little cut. The cuts pool up with blood and then overflow.

It trickles down your legs.

But I'd be patching myself up afterward (basically tryna clean the blood, stop the bleeding, make sure I didnt bleed out onto my sheets and dirty them in my sleep... make sure I didnt leave evidence) and I'd think to myself "this is a sin, I am a sinner..."

Ofc my stupid ass was constantly begging for forgiveness, praying, reading the bible, blah blah, please I just wanna serve you, please help me, please...

What a pathetic state to be in most of my junior high years HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA XD XDDDDD LMAOOOO LMFAOOOOOO ROFLLLLL

like. I had a corner of the school I used SPECIFICALLY to cry.

How sad...

BUT NOW IM IN HIGH SCHOOL!!!! AND I AM PLEASED TO INFORM YOU THAT I HAVE

0 CRYING SPOTS

MANY MAKING OUT SPOTS

like woah its almost like. I dont have to suffer at all.

I'm winning now.

W. What was I talking about before I started rambling. Idk. I forget. Oh well.

POSITIVITY ONLY BABES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ILL KEEP YALL UPDATED I SWEAR

SIGNING OFF,

JUDE SHEPARD

[bookworm411]

A Love Letter to Steven Universe

I was eighteen when I first watched Steven Universe. My friends had been trying to get me to watch it for...i don’t even know how long. Years maybe? Because it was a long, long time before I watched the show that they had me listen to Here Comes a Thought when I was feeling particularly anxious one night. I’m pretty sure I cried. I’d never heard a song describe anxiety in such a clear way, and I used it to help calm myself for a long time after, before i even knew who the characters were or what the episode it came from was even about. 

Then I started watching Thomas Sanders on YouTube, and he’s a big fan of the show. The more I watched his videos and heard him talk about it, plus the nagging from my friends, the more I thought about watching it. 

Now, this was after I’d graduated high school, and I wasn’t in the best mental space. I couldn’t get into/afford collage, I didn’t have a job or even know how to start finding one, or honestly have the urge to get one, so I was at home by myself a lot. All day every day, alone with my thoughts and my sense of, well, uselessness as a human being, with only YouTube, Netflix, and Hulu to keep me company while all my other friends were out doing something with their lives.

I’d been depressed for a long time without realizing it, but this isolation only made things worse. 

Thomas Sanders helped. His Sanders Sides videos brought me into a community full of amazing, supportive people. People who...also loved Steven Universe. 

So eventually on one of my long hours trying to decide what to watch after finishing Gravity Falls and trying to fill that void, i decided why not? There were a lot of episodes, it would fill the time for a while. 

Anyone who’s watched the first few episodes of the show know that it’s...interesting. The first season itself is something one of a kind, but those first few episodes with Cookie Cat and Frybo know that the first time experience of those episodes are something you’ll ever forget, for better or worse. 

There were things i didn’t like, of course. there were weird animation moments, Steven was a little bit too annoying at times, Lars was an asshole. 

But oh man, the great stuff. Garnet’s complete mystery, Connie’s introduction episode, Giant Woman, Amethyst's pure chaos, the absolute love between the gems and Steven, The Cool Kids being absolute sweethearts to Steven, Greg being so supportive even if he’s a little distant from the gems, Steven’s clear want to know his mother, Together Breakfast, Secret Club, Pearl and Amethyst slowly starting to understand each other and get along. Fucking Stevonie. Lion. the flashback episodes where we got to get to know Rose the same way Steven did, the songs. 

Don’t even get me started on the songs. 

I was singing along with the opening two or three episodes in. 

I started to loo forward to it, as I went through the show. My days went: wake up, get food, watch Steven Universe, probably do something else for a bit, go to bed. Repeat. 

(like i said, i had nothing else to do) 

I fell in love with the show. I saw a lot of myself in Steven (yes i know i said he was annoying but so was I). In fact i don’t think I’d ever related to a character more. His kindness, his absolute willingness to help anyone who needs it, the love he has for everyone and everything. He was everything i wanted that part of me to be. I was a very eager to please kid, always running errands for teachers, bringing presents for classmates, offering comfort to someone when they needed it. I’m not trying to brag or boast, that’s just...always been who I am. To a fault. 

So yeah, I saw a lot of myself (mostly my younger self) in Steven. It helped me connect to him and relate to him easily. 

But also, as a storyteller, I was enthralled with the world. The idea of the gems, who they are, where they come from, watching the Townies get used to the weird stuff always going on, watching Steven become a Crystal Gem. The art was beautiful and again, the songs. There were just so many things that I loved about the show that only grew the more i watched it. 

Man, I don’t think I’ll ever forget watching Jail Break. Everyone in the fandom talks about it, but it really is just an iconic episode. Meeting Ruby and Sapphire, realizing Garnet is a fusion (which was obvious in hindsight but shut up), Stronger Than You, the baddass fight between Garnet and Jasper. The Lapis and Jasper fusion, the shared feeling between me and the characters at the end of “well. that just happened. what now?” 

I loved learning about Beach City, how the gems were involved in the history of it, how different Steven’s Earth is to ours (39 states?) 

Then, oh man, Peridot, the growing realization of Steven learning how to deal with his mom’s shadow. I absolutely love the episode where he and the cool kids find Peridot’s escape pod. They had the guts to say to the gems what Steven didn’t or couldn’t or didn’t even know he should. 

I could go on and on, about all my favorite plot points, songs, characters, but this is already so long and I’m only on season 2. 

Watching Steven grow, go from this little kid who just wanted to be a part of the team to being the leader of the team was incredible. The show talked about real stuff and showed real problems. Everything from making the gems understand that Steven was still a kid to understanding that a step parent can love you more than your biological one. Even just dealing with loneliness and trying find your place in the world, which Steven goes through multiple times. 

I can’t count the number of times i re-watched the show. It was my pick-me-up show for when the depression was getting me down, when i needed some light in my life. 

During all of this, through every Steven bomb that came out after i finished season four, i started going through my own journey of trying to find my place in the world. I started to go to therapy, eventually. I’ve got a job now, which is nice (if exhausting). I’m 20 now, though, so it took a long time for me to get here, and I’m still trying. 

But there were moments that I always held onto. Watching Change Your Mind for the first time as it aired, getting so excited when a new episode was coming on (it reminded me a lot of when i was little, when i would do the same thing for Teen Titans or some other show. The times before you could just pause the TV were fun yet stressful for your bladder). settling down and watching new episodes with my friends when they came over. Singing Here Comes a Thought to my friend’s son when he was an infant, and then watching him watch the TV as the song played while i was re-watching Mindful Education, and then looking at me, like he recognized it as the song I’ll sing to him sometimes. Man I can’t wait until he’s a little older so we can watch it together. 

Steven Universe Future honestly reflected the person i was when i first started watching the show (on a very superficial level). Steven trying to figure out what to do now that the universe didn’t need him to save it, him trying to see where he fits in again. Him finally, finally coming to terms with the fact that he is not okay, and having that meltdown that finally led to him getting help, and that got through to his family that he needed them, not the other way around. 

I just watched the finale today. I cried like a baby. I’m not afraid to admit it. Watching something that means so much to you end is the definition of bittersweet. 

Seven Universe was there for me in my darkest times, when I needed that bit of light. He brought me closer to my friends, helped me make new ones. Gave me something to love when that was hard for me to do. 

Now, the show didn’t cure me. It didn’t snap something inside of me or anything like that. It was just a comfort. A warm blanket wrapped around me with a cup of hot cocoa on a snowy day. It didn’t make the snow go away, but it blocked out the cold long enough for me to remember what it’s like to feel warm again, and make me want to seek that warmth permanently. 

So thank you, Steven, for everything you’ve done. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need now too. 

And thank you Rebecca Sugar, for bringing this light into the world. For fighting for your vision, gifting us your talents, and being a true inspiration to me and many other creators. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next (hopefully after you take a long deserved vacation). 

I can’t believe we’ve come so far. 

[welcome-to-the-petting-zoo]

Hey guys! I was wondering if any of you could offer me some tips on calming yourself down or lessening stress? Because of my contamination fears and the fact that I live in the U.S. everything has been piling up. My family doesn’t rlly take me or anything seriously either. So I’ve been falling into fits of “I’m not going to be able to leave the house in years, what’s the point in being here” and general other bad thoughts so I wonder if anything you known could help calm me down? Thanks!

Hey there Anon,

TP here. I'm so sorry you're struggling like this, and especially that your family can't/won't provide you with the support you need.

I'm going to try to collect some general advice and some healthy coping techniques, maybe you can find something here that can relieve your stress. I don't know enough about your lifestyle, specific issues and circumstances to tailor the list to your needs too much, but I'll try to bring up some varied points so maybe there is something you'll find useful.

There are things you can do in the moment to relieve stress and then there are things that are more preventive or work over a longer period, I'll try to cover both categories.

Let's start with in the moment relief:

Grounding. The same way grounding techniques can help with dissociative symptoms, they are also a great tool for stress relief. If you can take a moment to collect yourself, it can help you avoid blowing up or imploding into a depressive mess. There are great breathing exercises geared towards stress relief, but you can also do some physical practices, like putting your hands together in front of you like you were praying, and pressing your palms together as hard as you can, for as long as you can. This will release the physical tension in your body and with that, some of the emotional charge will dissipate too.

Depending on whether your stress manifests as anger, you can also do anger relief exercises, such as trying to rip a piece of cardboard in as many pieces as you can, or, my personal favourite, taking an old pair of sneakers and throwing them against the ground or an outdoor wall, because that won't harm either the wall or the shoes, and it's loads better than turning that anger on yourself or another person. Of course if you can manage your anger without having to act on it, all the better, but if you feel like you're about to explode, blowing off the steam in a non-dangerous way that still allows you to express your destructive urges can work.

This is extreme, but if you have the environment (e.g. you can go to a place away from humanity), you can even try to just scream as loudly as you can. I've never tried this method, but some people swear by it.

Remove yourself from the situation/environment. I know it can be super hard during the pandemic, but if you have the chance, just taking a walk, especially if you can go somewhere devoid of people in nature, is one of the best ways to clear your head and give yourself the space you need to calm down. What I often do is, I get on my bike and take a long ride on some abandoned back roads, which of course is a very special privilege most people don't have, but if you can carve out a little space for yourself somewhere, that can do wonders.

If you can't leave the house because of your fear of contamination or any other reason, I would advise you put on a pair of headphones, if you have noise cancelling ones, those are the best, but basically any pair will do, lie down on your bed and listen to music or nature sounds for a while. I live listening to the sea, or forest noises. There are several free apps you can download that let you create your own sound scapes from different sound elements, so you can tailor your experience to your specific tastes. If lying still is too hard or distracting, you can also try pacing while listening, just make sure you keep to a slow and steady stroll so you won't end up accidentally winding yourself up even more.

You can try doing some yoga, workout or sport. There are a lot of exercises you can also do indoors and generally, moving your body is a wonderful thing, it relieves stress, releases some happy chemicals and tires you out so you won't feel anxious anymore. Basically how this works is, emotions have physical "symptoms" and they work both ways. If you're experiencing the bodily sensation, you'll get the emotion as well, which also means, if you can stop the physical symptom, the emotion will go away too. For example, if you make yourself smile even though you're in a bad mood, you'll soon start feeling better, or the thing when people get anxious or angry because they are hungry and they can feel a knot in their stomach... It works just like that with anxiety/stress as well, if you can relieve the tension from your body, you'll also feel less stressed.

You can try stim toys or other equipment that's geared towards people with sensory integration issues. These tools were developed for people who get easily overwhelmed, so they are extremely efficient for relieving stress. There are tons of different kinds, so you can experiment with what feels right for you. Maybe it's a squishy toy, maybe a weighted blanket, or something you can bite into or a logic puzzle to stimulate your brain. As I said, there are loads of resources out there, and I'm positive there is something you could benefit from, and well, these tools are there for anybody who needs them, so feel free to experiment with them!

Okay, so let's take a look at the longer term things.

Meditation is one of the most awesome things ever. If you're not into spirituality, or if you think it's bullshit, rest assured, that's where I came from too... Until I've tried it. It helped me so much with my insomnia and other stress related issues, and well, it's not like I'm suddenly a hardcore Buddhist or something (not that there is anything wrong with that either, meditation and spirituality/any religion can absolutely go hand in hand), because in the end I like being my weird pragmatic self, but even so, meditation is something I love doing, it gives me peace and teaches me how to relax and come closer to understanding what my body needs and how to pay attention to it. There are also very cool resources for that, both apps and podcasts/YouTube channels that have guided meditation materials or that teach you different techniques.

If you have the spoons, please, do exercise! It is so damn helpful and important, but I also know it's something that can be super hard and I also struggle with it a lot, but whenever I actually manage to move around just for a few minutes, I feel so accomplished and so well physically and mentally.

Try to express your emotions in different ways. Create awesome vent art (your skill level doesn't matter, you can literally be scribbling on a piece of paper, or squishing a block of clay into a shapeless lump, it's not about artistic quality)! Experiment with different media and techniques, write, draw, sculpt, make collages out of magazine cuttings, press flowers, knit emotional sweaters, whatever your preferred method is, creating is a truly healing experience. It allows you to collect your thoughts and emotions and express them in a way that engages your brain in a different way than just thinking about it does, and it turns the negative emotions into positive experiences of creation and relaxation.

Ask someone to give you a massage. Again, back to the whole body and mind influence each other thing, not to mention that massages feel awesome and if it's a friend or loved one giving it, it also creates intimacy and a shared good moment which in and of itself can help a lot.

Talk about it! Seriously, fuck those people who tell you it's somehow wrong to talk about your issues or that you're being a burden. YOU'RE NOT! If you're in distress or you just feel like you need a talk, just do it! If you have noone to talk to, just get back to me, I'll be happy to listen if that means you're feeling better. There will ALWAYS be people who would happily listen to your venting if that would make you feel relief.

Finally, if this is something that's an option for you, consider talking to a therapist or your healthcare provider. They might be able to point you in the direction of some resources or talk about the possibility of temporary medicinal treatment until the pandemic blows over.

I hope this helps a little bit, and of course, if you have any follow-up questions, I'll be happy to elaborate on any of the points. I'm sorry for not including specific links or resources, but I'm a disabled weirdo and right now typing this out is all I have in me. But if you can't find something, or would like specific recommendations, get back to me and I'll look into the specifics for you.

Best of luck,

TP