#but it's been so nice to catch glimpses of her in this little gal

[kedreeva]

There's a little shelf by the door of the barn pen. It was originally installed so Eris could come use her buttons (and sometimes Artemis, who watched Eris use the buttons and sort of understood they resulted in treats), but now it's just a chair for peas who want to be nosy about what you're doing in the hallway. It's usually Aris, but tonight it was one of the babies spying on me- the one that looks a lot like Artemis did as a youngin. It caught me off guard when I turned around and saw her hunkered down just quietly watching me. For just a second she was here in spirit.

[ellsbclls]

White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of  Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here. 

Your secret hideaway. 

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response.  “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare. 

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you. 

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice.  “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way. 

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her?  “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?  

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.” 

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb.  “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach. 

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening. 

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake. 

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss. 

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines. 

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse. 

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears. 

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill. 

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open. 

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene —  opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you. 

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that. 

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you.  “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings​

[xwingsandohs]

Softly, Slowly | Poe Dameron

prompt: 44- tentative kisses in the dark

word count: 3k

a/n: first fic here! more incoming and i would love requests too <3 a first kiss fic

“C’mon!” Poe shouted out, making the group laugh. You’d decided to have a small ‘night off’, sitting around the cantina with a beer in hand.

There was always so much going on, so Poe had insisted you’d all ‘relax’ and shovel back some beers.

It was fun to relax, or to be as close to relaxed as you ever could be in the resistance. But the beer took the edge off, no matter how terrible it tasted, plus everyone around you seemed to be in a light enough mood for it to rub off on you- especially Poe.

“O-Okay then, Finn, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when it’s all over?” Poe asked with a hazy smile, probably slightly more intoxicated than the rest of the table.

He’d almost definitely made it past the two beer recommendation, though you could be sure he’d still be able to jump in an x-wing in a minute if it was needed.

You all looked to Finn, wide eyes on his face at the question. “I don’t know! You think I know anything past this war?”

He laughed a little and shrugged, leaving you, Rey and a few others giving Poe a look, but you all laughed too. Bad example, Dameron.

“See! Nobody else has thought about it. What are you planning on doing then, Dameron?” Rey insisted, still chuckling, waiting for his reply as she took a swig of her beer.

She seemed to be knocking it back as easily as Poe did, but you’d ask her about that another time.

Poe had been clamouring about how everyone should have some big plan of what they’re gonna do as soon as the war is over. You all disagreed, maybe it was a pessimistic thing, like you weren’t sure you’d all survive the war.

Mostly for you, you didn’t have a clue what you’d do without the resistance. They were your family. You couldn’t imagine slipping off in an x-wing as soon as it was all finished.

“Easy.” He said with the biggest and cockiest smile, and you shook your head at him when he made eye contact with you. “I’m gonna give every single one of you the biggest kiss of your life.”

You all laughed and protested immediately, to which he shrugged and took another sip of his drink.

“That’s no big plan! That’s you finding an excuse to snog..” Rey nudged you when she saw you were busy eyeing Poe, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

“Hey!” You called to Rey, turning to her immediately and lightly hitting her arm. “Don’t bring me into this! Just cause Poe can’t keep it in his pants.”

Poe’s eyes widened. “No way Jos-Rey. I don’t need an excuse to kiss anyone.” He smirked at himself, but you shook your head at him when he eventually turned to you.

There was nothing going on between you and Poe, but everyone was pretty convinced there was. You’d been the first person he met in the resistance and your best friend status was pretty much solidified, but anything more than that was up in the air.

You harboured a crush on him, not that you ever planned on acting on it. You didn’t even think about it most of the time, too busy fighting or hanging out with everyone.

Occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of him from some angle, or he’d have a particularly bright smile on his face, and then your feelings would pop up.

Sometimes he’d look at you, locking eyes, and you were sure the same thoughts you had ran through his mind. You were just too busy.

“What are you shaking your head at?” Poe asked, smiling at you playfully.

“You’re not going anywhere near my lips.” You shook your head at him again, holding back a smile when he gave you an offended look.

“What?! Am I not kissable enough for you?” He puckered his lips and you laughed again, shaking your head in response. “Finn?”

“Poe, as handsome as you are-” He cut him off before he could finish.

“There is only one person at this table I am letting shoot me down, and it’s not you, Finn.” Rey muttered an ‘Ouch’ with a laugh, and Finn started shaking his head and muttering something about his friend.

“Poe I’ve never kissed anyone, there’s no chance in hell that I’m gonna let you snog me on your way to snog Snap or Finn.” You gave him a playful warning look, but his face had completely dropped.

“What?-” “You’ve really never-”

“What?” You stopped your friends and laughed slightly awkwardly at their sudden protests. “I’ve been here since I was what, 17? I’ve been a bit busy.”

It didn’t seem like much in your mind, another thing you shrugged off because you had more important things to do. Clearly you were an alien amongst your friends.

You’d thought about kissing people before, the thoughts would come at least a few times a month. Maybe 10. And Poe was always there.

Relationships weren’t really much a big thing in the resistance, everyone being tired and busy most of the time.

The only time you ever really thought about it was when you were left to your own thoughts in your quarters, but the thoughts didn’t really last long.

You had a few childish fantasies, being swept off your feet and kissed after a battle had been won, or being kissed in the middle of the floor, dancing at the biggest party you’d ever seen- movie kisses, your own grand romance.

But you’d cut off those wayward dreams as soon as you could. You’d never kissed anyone, so what were you to imagine?

“And not once-” Poe started, watching you when your eyes looked a little lost. You didn’t really want to look at him. You were sure you were as red as you ever could be.

“Not really. I didn’t even really think about it… until now.” They were most definitely giving you disapproving looks, you decided. “Besides! Who knows where I’ll end up after this, I’ll meet a nice gal or guy. Someone to fill the empty void of Poe Dameron.” You added onto the end, trying to make the tone a bit lighter.

At that you looked at him finally, trying not to let the image of his face be burned into your mind, but it always was.

“Hey! You saying we’re not all gonna stay friends after this?” Finn voiced, unintentionally pulling himself closer to the table.

“Nah, we’ll be friends. Dameron’s not gonna get tied down by us.” Rey laughed, and looked at Finn with a light smile. Poe was definitely unpredictable. Maybe that was why you wouldn’t let yourself think of him.

“I get it, I get it. It’s attack Poe night! This is the thanks I get for buying you all beers.” He shook his head, drinking from his bottle again, letting his ease return.

“Hey, you bought the drinks, we never agreed we’d be nice.” Rey laughed again and you agreed with her, clinking drinks with her and Finn as Poe watched on in feigned misery. (He was just happy everyone was having a nice time.)

You got back to your quarters just over an hour later, deciding not to shower so you could have one to wake yourself up the next morning, ease any remaining alcoholic out your system.

You shared your quarters with Poe, bunked together since you were stuck in an older, smaller resistance camp. It didn’t bother you, mostly just having to move around each other quite awkwardly when you rushed around in the mornings.

“…Poe?” You called out into the darkness barely 10 minutes since you’d both laid down. You were up on the top bunk, laid on your stomach as one arm hung off the edge of your bed.

You suddenly felt unreasonably lonely, thoughts racking your brain far more suddenly and quickly than they usually did when you tried to sleep; Poe was the only voice you wanted to hear to fix it.

“Hm?” He hummed back, not yet groggy, but he was probably still a bit sleepy.

You felt bad to bother him, but one question hung at the back of your mind and you weren’t sure you’d sleep well if you didn’t ask.

“Do you think it’s um..” Okay now you regretted it, feeling awkward and childish. Too late. “Do you think it’s weird that I haven’t kissed anyone?”

The word ‘kissed’ felt so strange leaving your mouth, like an embarrassing word you’re not meant to say.

Mostly it felt so odd saying it to Poe, like it was meant to be said but it wasn’t at the same time. Saying it in the dark, knowing he laid in his bed below you felt like mistletoe hanging above a door.

He didn’t reply immediately, he was probably just thinking of a response, but you couldn’t help your mouth from running to fill the silence. You didn’t want your words to be left out in the open. “L-like should I have- I don’t know- just grabbed someone by the collar and-”

You felt his hand reach up and brush your own, lightly tugging on two of your fingers. You completely lost your train of thought (not that you were saying much of use) and hummed contentedly at the contact.

“You wanna talk, come down here.” He tugged lightly again, but moved to just brush his fingers against your own as you considered his response.

Then you got up, groaning slightly at the awkward movements from the bunk and trying to hide the slight shaking of your legs. It didn’t make sense for you to be anxious.

You stood above his bed slightly for a second, mostly trying to figure out where he was in the darkness. Then you slipped in next to him, pressed quite tightly against him thanks to the small bunk, but you looped a leg across him and moved into him slightly making the situation a bit comfier for you both.

You were sure he could feel the way you shook slightly as you moved.

It wasn’t the first time you’d laid in the same bed as him, you’d sleep next to each other after a bad mission if you needed the company, though sometimes you’d both have slightly poorer excuses- like the cold.

“Honestly?” He asked, and you hummed almost nervously in response. “A little. Not that I’m judging you just-” He paused for another second, thinking for the word. “I kind of just assumed you’d been there, y’know?”

You hummed again, moving closer to him when he’d leaned away from you slightly when he talked.

It was nearly pitch black, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tilt your head up at him. You weren’t sure if you were embarrassed or shy, the latter of which you’d never really associated with yourself.

Poe didn’t know what would happen after the war was over, of course he didn’t. In his mind all he saw was you and him, god knows where, basking in whatever sun- just happy. He just saw you.

He imagined him kissing you everywhere he could, you giggling and pushing him away because you were out in the open, but neither of you really caring.

He’d never thought of how he’d get there or what could happen. Typical of him, really. All his strange dreams felt stupid now. He couldn’t see past himself.

“Can I um-” He paused again. He didn’t know what to say. “Do you think about it? Like, at all.”

“Y-yeah, I think so.” Your voice was much smaller than normal, and you could feel yourself hiding your face from him.

You couldn’t bear the thought of divulging everything you thought of him, not right now anyway. And you knew he was trying to make you out in the darkness.

“After a mission, when I’m tired, that’s when I think about it. It’s um, it’s silly to think about something you’ve never done.”

“No it isn’t.” He replied softly and knowingly, his hand gently running across your back as you both speak. His voice was just as small as yours.

“Isn’t it?” You asked unassuredly, breathing out a small sigh. Maker, you wish you knew what he was thinking. Sometimes you thought you knew everything Poe was thinking, other times you weren’t as sure.

It wasn’t a bad thing, you liked his unpredictable qualities, but other times- like this time- you’d do anything just to know what he did. “I thought about it with you.”

You let that hang in the air, just for a minute, unsure where you wanted to go with it. Maybe you just wanted him to know.

But he did, he most definitely did, and his hand tracing on your back didn’t even pause. “N-not some quick victory kiss after battle, just-” You couldn’t say it. “Well, you know.”

Your body went rigid against him for a second, suddenly struck by the weight of what you had said. But no, you corrected yourself, you wanted him to know more than anything on the cosmos.

It was a weight off you, and you let out the breath you were holding. And then you felt him hold you tighter.

His hand moved up to your hair, stroking it for a few times before you felt him move forward, placing a small kiss near your temple. He’d probably done that a million times over, but not so soft, and definitely not after some terrible confession of feelings.

He didn’t say anything. Poe wasn’t entirely sure he could say anything, because he felt too many things and couldn’t find the words to match them. But the kiss seemed to tell you everything you needed to know.

“Not what I meant.” You whispered, smiling against him. You couldn’t help your hand clutching tightly on his shirt for a second, too scared to hold him any closer to you.

But you were strangely happy, a sense of comfort you weren’t sure you’d ever felt before. Everything about the moment just felt right.

“Can I kiss you properly?” He asked you in a small voice, and this time you tilted your head up to him. You wanted to see his face when he asked you that, you could almost make out his face in the shadows.

It was close to the face you imagined when you thought about kissing him, so unreasonably warm and loving, but somehow you couldn’t have imagined the softness on his features.

“Are you gonna be a gentleman about it?” You asked, raked with nerves, your voice showed that plainly. But it was still a yes, and you wanted it so, so badly. He felt you clutch tighter to him nonetheless.

“I promise.” He spoken a whisper, his hand already stroking your cheeks a few times. The contact was unfamiliar, but you reached your own hand up to his face and mirrored the action- letting it run across his cheek and jaw, just as you always wanted to.

He was perfect.

“Okay then.” You moved your body up closer, letting your cheek rest against his hand for a few seconds as you searched each other’s faces.

His eyes were gorgeous, even in the shadowed darkness, you were sure you were looking at him with the most love-blown eyes, and that was exactly what you saw back.

And then he gently pulled his face closer, your eyes closed far sooner than his did, and he tried to memorize your face as he pushed his lips against yours.

It was a light peck, and he pulled away for a second after. Looking to you for any kind of protest before he moved in and kissed you again.

A proper kiss this time, letting his lips move against yours for a few seconds until you realized the rhythm and reciprocated. It felt perfect, pressed against your best friend in a more intimate way than ever- but it was so soft and lovely, you wanted it forever.

(Best friend didn’t feel like the right word anymore, but you were too enamoured by him to think of anything better.)

Your hand against his cheek held him just a little bit tighter, reveling in the feeling of him against you.

You couldn’t help a soft noise you made, barely a moan at the lightness and quietness of it- but Poe couldn’t help himself, pressing even further into you, his chest flush against your own and his hand running across your cheek and into your hair.

He could stay like that forever, kissing you in every way he’d ever thought of. Your cheek, your lips, your neck- he’d kiss you for hours on end if you’d let him. And maybe you finally would.

You remained like that for just a second longer until Poe moved away, and you both had to take a deep breath. You smiled at him again, keeping your hand still on the back of his neck just to keep him close.

You moved a hand to trace across his eyebrow, watching your thumb brush against him as his eyes stayed fixated on yours. He couldn’t form any thought, the feeling of your lips against his fogging up his mind.

Your eyes drifted back to his, catching his smitten look, and you had to hope the redness of your face wouldn’t be visible in the low light.

“I’m sorry I’m not a good kisser.” You said awkwardly, still stunned and with nothing else to say. You wanted to kiss him again.

“We’ll practice.” He smiled again, letting his hand run through your hair then giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

[vinylhazza]

ok so we all know that gray rushes/is eager about his relationships, but this time, what if the reader asks him to slow down or something? like she’s just getting started with her degree and she wants to slow down a bit, not rush into things, and eth agrees and gray is finally happy? also sorry if u aren’t taking concepts or requests lol

i feel like...low key....he needs this irl lol

this man doesn’t even have the phrase slow down in his vocabulary so when you say those words, the look of confusion that crossed over his face was to be expected. you knew you would have to spell it out for him, at least slightly. he gets in over his head with every relationship and wonders why they somehow fall apart so soon. some girls fall into that spell: the attractive guy wants me so it must be something real and true and they fall before they ever really form a strong bond, sliding to third base a time or two and tricking themselves into thinking it’s deeper than surface level lust. 

but you, you are not the ‘kick it into high gear’ type of gal and you thought you made that pretty obvious from the start. grayson gets attached easily, we all know that. you take your days one at a time, scope out the pros and cons of every situation. and you know, yeah it might be a trauma response from the countless times people have fucked you over and made you out to be a fool from a very young age, but that same mindset has helped you dodge many bullets over the years.

his first initial infatuation—it’s no different with you, but you are how do you say—hyper aware of his intentions and motives. you’ve been screwed over, toyed with, used your fair share of times and the world be damned to hell if some buff fluffy brown haired boy with amber eyes and a smile that oozes light and happiness comes in treating you like you’re this...lost treasure and you just believe him. believe all of the pretty words, take his hand and follow him into the dark, blindly let yourself love someone again not be sure of what they expect out of the relationship. and damn you if you let him swoop in and carry you off like a princess from a tall tower. like he’s this knight in shining armor. you won’t be fooled by the cloud of attraction and get yourself in too deep before you’re completely on the same page with one another. and first things first; you aren’t someone that needs to be saved, and neither is he.

you understand the puppy love stage of relationships. it’s bound to happen: the subtle obsession with your partner, that new light fuzzy feeling you get thinking about them, thinking of what they might be doing when they’re not with you, if they are thinking about you too, listening to all the sappy love songs and suddenly all you can think about is the color of their eyes after they’ve laughed real hard, the dip in their brow when they are thinking for a long time, the electric feeling that zaps your skin when they touch you, the way their voice lowers two octaves when they lean over and whisper something sweet in your ear, it’s all there for grayson. you know you’re falling in deep, and maybe that’s what scares you. maybe it’s the way you are so willing to trust him early on that leads you to the conversation of slowing things down. for the protection of the both of you, it’s not one sided.

not only had grayson made you feel secure in the very beginning of the sudden relation you had started, but he kept consistent with his actions and words. something that was unusual and strange after dealing with men that never really grew up beyond 16. at the stage of your life you’re in, there isn’t any room for a childish game of tag with a boy who didn’t have any intentions of sticking around in the first place.

you worked hard for everything you had, you always have. your upbringing wasn’t one of sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns. you didn’t have it easy. it wasn’t something that you used to weazle your way out of situations, excuse your occasional bad behavior, but it was something you thought about when you did catch glimpse of your growing attraction to someone. especially grayson, who was...one of the nicest men you had ever met. charming really didn’t even cut it. but just starting on your degree...complicated things. made you really want to reiterate to him that your degree, it was important to you and you fought tooth and nail to be able to even touch a college textbook. you couldn’t be blinded by his charms and be distracted from your dreams. there were times where the world seemed dark and hopeless and with hard work and perseverance you climbed out of that hole, just to stand as the strong intelligent woman he was falling head over heels for. you didn’t get that way over night. and you sure as well weren’t going to screw up your studies because you found someone that maybe wanted to stay, maybe didn’t. if the two of you were to work out and keep developing that beautiful bond - you hoped it would be as a team, one with understanding and clarity.

in your past experience, once a man knows he’s got you hooked, that’s the green light to treat you how they’ve wanted to the entire time. their once soft caress turns possessive, trust turns to assumption and blame, dates grow less and less frequent, and are left to sit and wonder what you ever saw in the first place. tricked, manipulated, and heartbroken. it’s never been honesty, love, and acceptance first. it’s “i love you” and “i care” when their actions don’t support their claims. you promised that the next boy you catches your heartstrings and strums until you’ve fallen under their spell, you would know exactly what you’re falling for. that means taking it slow, knowing what makes grayson tick, what he hates, what he adores, what brings him peace and comfort, if he cries during chick flicks, what kind of person he wants to be remembered as, if he fears the unknown as much as you do, was makes him completely and totally happy, and what infuriates him the fastest of all, what hardships has he had to face alone, what haunts his mind in the dead of night where no one can hear him crying, and what thought makes him smile when he’s doing nothing in particular. for once, just this once, you’re heart longed to know more that what meets the eye. you wanted to know if your feelings were 3 demensional, encompassing the good and bad about grayson, or if you truly just loved the way he fucked you.

but most importantly, you wanted him to know you. know the things about you that most people didn’t have the pleasure of knowing, all while making your dreams come true.

you thought maybe it was a mistake reaching out to ethan in your time of dire need of a shoulder to lean on, but it ended up being just the conversation and pat on the back you needed. the right nudge from the right person to have you sitting down with the softest soul you’ve come to find. grayson wasn’t someone you wanted to hurt, and ethan reassuring you that by talking to him and making him slow down, it would save him from more heartache than anything.

“i think it’s going to mellow him out, actually,” ethan nods along with your words, picking at a stray strand on his pants.

he wants what’s best for his twin, which is the exact reason you wanted to have this conversation with him. you didn’t want to mess something up and be rash and childish before anything real really even started, “grayson doesn’t really do ‘slow’, so this will be good for him.”

“i just don’t want to hurt him you know? i don’t want to be another girl that leaves so suddenly when he gets a bit too much. i know those are special circumstances and he was desperate with the desire of finding that special connection...” a pause to catch your breath, nervous from the vulnerability you’re showing already, “but when i make a commitment, i keep it. i want him to know that. i just want him to be secure within his decision to want...whatever this is with me. i want to be able to know him enough that my feelings for him are justified. and vice versa...i don’t want him to think that because i want to slow down, means i want to stop.”

“he will understand more than you think. if there is one thing i know about him, it’s that he will bend over backwards to make something he wants work. if he really wants you like i know he does, he will slow it down and make sure that you are comfortable. sounds like he doesn’t have much choice.” and it’s nice hearing those words from someone you haven’t gotten the chance to grow all that close with yet. hell you’re not even that close with grayson yet. you’re in the beginning stages still, learning your way around life with him in it. independence has always been one of the things that made you, well, you - and Grayson must understand you need more time before moving forward. 

“really?” your heavy sigh shows your nerves are shot from worrying about not just school, but about the many different outcomes of the talk you need to have with Grayson. it has to happen, but you’ve never been one for confrontation even if it’s ensuring a positive outcome for both parties. 

another shrug with a kind smile from ethan warms your heart, “just talk to him. he’ll appreciate your honesty. most of the other girls got wigged out and dipped, it’s going to mean so much more that you are wanting to stick it out even if it’s going too fast for you right now.”

growing up in a family full of huggers really shows when you step forward to wrap your arms around his waist for a split second, appreciative that he listened to understand and actually help you.

“thank you e, i hope he doesn’t just think i’m trying to make excuses and leave.”

when you pull away he is smiling still, pleasantly surprised by your friendly hug. with a light squeeze to your shoulder and a soft sort of smirk playing on his lips, he gives you just the advice you needed.

“something i’ve learned being his twin; give him a little more credit.”

when  you have that conversation that had you so nervous your stomach tossed and turned all day long, you make sure you’re chanting ethans words over in your head. breathe. it’ll be fine. he will understand. give him a little more credit. he really wants you. the words play like a song through your head as you wait for him to sit back down on the white floral sheet in the softest patch of grass in your backyard. water spills from the glass in his hand as he plops onto the ground in a heap of giggles, muttering “fuck” softly, trying (and failing of course) to wipe the water off of his light blue button up shirt. it’s a good color on him, and you’re momentarily distracted from how attractive he looks in the late afternoon sun. 

when you first met grayson, he had stumbled upon you sitting all by yourself in a small park, book in hand, peach in the other, completely unsuspecting that you would catch his heart captive when you glanced up with a smile that just about made him pass out. you were still surprised months later that he had had the nerve to say a word to you, he looked ill with anxiety to even utter a word. it was a day you’d never forget - and you would try and remember that innocent look in his eye when you explain why you had planned this picnic in the first place. to talk, to listen, to understand. 

you figure if you really want to have the conversation be as smooth as it can be for the both of you, you could take it back to the very start. a simple picnic, with a lot of hope for the future.

after the laughter fit falls down, it’s time to get to the root of the issue. you prepare yourself with a deep breath in, holding in for a few seconds with your eyes closed, then slowly releasing when you look back at the questioning raise of his eyebrows. when he cocks his head to the side, you know it’s now or never. if you don't say it now, you might regret it. 

“I actually brought you here so that we could have a talk real quick,” you finally explain, making sure to maintain eye contact and drink in ever facial expression he may have - just so you know how to go forward. 

“you know you can talk to me about anything, is something wrong?” He’s so soft with the way he talks, never suspecting anything like what he’s about to hear, and it almost hurts to know you’ll be disappointing him in some way. 

“nothing is really wrong...i just think maybe...we should slow it down for a bit.” 

“what do you mean? we just got here,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his water with a shake of his head. not understanding, his fingers fiddle with the fringe at the bottom of your sundress. 

you continue without stopping, ignoring his joke and hopefully make him see you aren’t here to fool around, at least not entirely. it was a serious talk for once and you wanted him to respect what you had to say. 

“-not go so fast we miss the exciting part of getting to know one another,” you carry on to a now confused, sorrowful looking grayson, finally understanding that you weren’t talking so much about the picnic - but the two of you as a whole. 

“i still want this—still want you i mean. but i just...want us to be us for a bit and not worry so much about the next step and then the one after that and the one after that and-” 

he holds his hand up to stop you, cutting you off while looking at the ground deep in thought. setting the water down slowly, he climbs back up to his feet. you watch him patiently while he treads through the clipped grass, knowing he’s trying hard not to overreact and over think. After what feels like eternity, he sits down with his hands hanging off his knees, picking at a blade of grass he’s ripped from the earth beneath him. 

“have i pushed you?” 

sweet boy, always trying to take blame.

with a small smile you shake your head, “you haven’t pushed me at all gray. I just want this to grow - want us to grow. i don’t want you getting in too deep before you’re sure you’re ready for all of the things i’m looking for in the future and likewise.” 

another nod of understanding, he was listening close. his respect for you grow tenfold, you had the courage to not let your lust or even affection cloud your judgement and you were honest with him. something that grayson admired most from anyone he let into his life was honesty. 

“i’m not very good with slow but i’m sure you’re probably right,” he laughs more at himself than anything, “i just get carried away. especially with a woman like you. how couldn’t i?” 

always the flirt. and a good one at that. he always knew exactly what to say to get you blushing, which is exactly why you hide your face bashfully in your shoulder for a few moments before you could look back at him admiring you. 

“I hope you know that this is different though, Y/n. I can’t exactly explain how, but you should know i’ve never felt this way for anyone no matter how many times i’ve tried to convince myself otherwise in the past out of...fear, shame, even guilt. it’s different. and because of that difference, i know i can’t be selfish with you.” 

for once you’re grateful for your mothers voice at the back of your head nudging you to let your heart be open, because without that voice, you would never be sitting in the grass with a man that truly does want to respect your boundaries and looks at you like you’re made of exquisite glass. you wouldn’t have memorized the soft texture of his lips as you lean in to kiss him, or the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek. you wouldn’t know the sound of his relived sigh, or the giggle that breaks the kiss only a few seconds later. and you wouldn’t have the clarity that you so desperately craved. 

if there is one thing you knew for sure it’s that he is telling the truth. his truth shows with the delicate placement of his hands, the soft caress of his thumb on your cheek, his fingers running through your hair, and all the other ways he shows his adoration for you every day that you wish to hold on to forever. you know that the waiting and slow pace will be worth it in the end and the slow burn will turn into the blazing fire that you can already tell shines in his eyes. your hesitation has nothing to do with him but a past you would explain in due time. 

for now, you’d continue kissing him on the sheet that smelt faintly of laundry detergent, in the backyard of your quaint apartment on 26th and Broadway, with his hand in your hair, lips pressed gently against yours, and a whole heart full of hope for a long future of days just like this. 

[archaneanscribe]

A Fresh Brew Shared with You

(So I’ve been getting really into Trio of Towns, and spent about one in-game month throwing coffee at Wayne until he loved me, and I had a lot of time to imagine what was happening in game while I did sp, so enjoy the byproduct of that. I use my farmer’s name, farm name (Aime, and Bloom Farm) plus some animal names, but it’s pretty generic otherwise, as it’s focused on Wayne’s POV mostly.).

-------------------------------

Bloom Farm hadn't always been the last stop on Wayne's postal route every morning.

When Aime had first moved in, she was solidly in the middle- he would work his way through the more local Westown residents, then mosey on down to Bloom, before taking the long way around to reach Tsuyukusa and Lulukoko. Back in those days, he would often catch a glimpse of her toiling away in her fields, maybe even snagging her attention long enough for them to exchange a wave. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then the main bridges reopened, and during the ensuing reshuffling, he and Ethan had worked out that it would be best for him to stop at her farm at the very end to complete his loop of the crossroads.

And he stopped seeing her.

Well, that wasn't nearly accurate- he saw her throughout the day, running about like the busy bee she always was, and they might pass each other by at his other stops. But he no longer ran into her on her own property. By the time he arrived, she was inside her barns, milking the cows.

(He still remembers the taste of that glass of milk, so sweet, but not nearly as sweet as his host.)

It was simply how it panned out, but he couldn't help but feel a little pang of regret at losing those glimpses of her in her element, working the land like she dreamed for half her life.

And then Aime had to surprise him, as she always did.

It was an ordinary fall morning, the red dawn melting away to make room for the blue midday sky while he crunched fiery leaves beneath his boots. She only had one letter that day, which looked like nothing more than a materials invoice from Ludus. In and out, easy as pie. But when he got to her mailbox, he found a curious sight sitting right on it's flat wooden top.

A cup of steaming hot coffee.

He looked to both his sides, then around the box, then behind him, and finally at every which angle he could, resulting in him spinning around like a fool. Shrugging, he dismissed it as her forgetting her beverage in a rush. He pulled open the hatch-

-to find a note, with his name in large letters at the top.

DEAR WAYNE,

I know you walk your whole route and my farm is pretty out of the way. That made me start feeling badly about how much mail I get everyday, which gave me an idea: Since you like coffee, I'd start leaving you a cup! Please write on the bottom of this note how it tastes, and how you most like your coffee so I can try and make that for you.

LOVE, AIME

I'll be darned, he thought, unable to suppress a wide smile, Does that gal ever run out of ways to make my day?

He shook his head, gently placing the note back down like it was made of priceless crystal instead of hastily written on a torn piece of journal paper, and picked up the mug, still hot as all get out. That means he probably only misses her by a few minutes at most... Sniffing it, he took a tentative sip, smile instantly morphing into an ecstatic grin the moment his throat finished the first swallow.

"Delicious..." he said to no one in particular, punctuating it with another sip. It was your standard black coffee, straight from a packet, but this was brewed by Aime, for him, and she planned to do it every morning. There was no way it was going to be anything less than the best cup he ever had. Before he knew it, he had downed the whole thing, uncaring of the temperature, and was licking his lips to make sure he got every last drop.

Westown's famous playboy slobbering over his own face for any splashes of his crush's coffee. If only the town's gossip hounds could see him at that moment.

After his euphoria passed, he finally realized he was just standing outside her mailbox, letter in one hand and empty mug in the other. With no better solution in mind, he placed the cup back where he found it, before pulling a pencil out from his bag.

DEAR AIME,

Thank you kindly for the coffee, it was divine. My favorite has got to be mocha, but it's hard to get a hold of in these parts, so no need to trouble yourself. It's more than enough for me to know you're thinking of me.

- WAYNE

Content with his reply, he placed the note back in the box, covering it with her letter. He was mighty tempted to stay and wait for her, but his grumbling stomach had other plans. Oh well, he'd simply have to be satisfied with her coffee for now. 

As he made his way back to his room at the Postio, the grin on his face was enough to make the birds in the treetops swoon.

----

Despite what he had written, the very next day, he found a mug full of Cafe Mocha sitting on top of the mailbox. This time, the note was held down by the mug itself, penned on much nicer stationary.

DEAR WAYNE

I know you said don't worry about it, but Caolila recently had a large shipment of cocoa, so I couldn't help myself! Especially after remembering how much you enjoyed Vivi's milk. I have a cup myself every morning, so I don't mind doing it at all. I hope you have a great day today.

LOVE AIME

One again he was no match for this lass' tenacity, it seemed. He was going to be on the receiving end of her kindness no matter what he said.

Well, there was no use resisting now. Fully reconciled with the idea of this being a daily occurance (not that he needed much convincing), he decided to savor the beverage today, taking slow, luxurious sips. It would have been a good cup 'o Joe, even if he wasn't steadily falling for the woman who made it. Smooth and creamy, it was the perfect intersection of sweet and bitter. 

Despite trying to take his time with it, the experience was over before he knew it. He always enjoyed a good coffee, but he had never felt such a pain when it was over before.

...maybe he had it worse than he thought.

----

Two weeks into their caffeinated ritual, Miranda asked him a question that stopped him in his tracks.

"Thanks for the package as always, Wayne!" she paused, looking down at the box in her hands, before back up at the mailman, "Say... you never come by to buy coffee these days. Is somethin' the matter?"

"W-What? There's- Nothin's wrong, don't you worry."

Unfortunately, the fact that Wayne the Suave Postman tripped over his words was enough to tip just about anyone off that something was up.

She put her hands on her hips, and spoke in a tone that he was certain Noel had heard many a time in her short life, "Well I don't believe that for one hot second mister! Tell me what's eatin' you right now or I won't stop hounding you for the next week."

He knew she meant it.

"I've jus' been having coffee with Aime lately, is all. She makes too much, so she offers me a cup every mornin'," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't particularly fond of lying, but if you told Miranda something worthy of gossip, it'd make the rounds by sundown, so he couldn't risk exposing his true feelings quite yet. Amie had to be the first to hear about them.

"Oh, is that so?"

...she seemed to know already, but at least had the decency not to make any accusations.

"I see now, but remember we've always got some in stock! Aime buys in bulk, so I always make sure I've got enough," she punctuated her statement with a wink. She definitely knew.

"...I'll keep it in mind, ma'am. See ya' later."

"Bye bye!"

Even if he wasn't totally convinced she was onto him from her words, by this point she definitely had to be, considering his face was as red as a rose right about now.

----

Another week after that, as he made his way down the slope that led into Bloom Farm, ready and eager for that day's mocha, it wasn't only a mug that he found sitting by the mailbox- it was Aime herself.

"Heya, Wayne!" she greeted him cheerfully, waving her arm in a large arc. He managed to successfully stifle his shock, though not so much his joy.

"Well, howdy there Aime. Shouldn't you be in that there barn by now?"

She smiled bashfully, "Normally I would, but Betsy the sheep is pregnant, so I've started doing it earlier in the day when I go to check up on her. Which means I've got some free time in the morning for awhile," she held up her own half empty mug, "So I thought I'd wait up for you. A hot drink is best shared with a good friend, after all."

"My grandma used to say the same thing," he replied, expression soft. Deciding to make himself comfortable, he pulled his bag over his head to place off to the side, laid his hat on a nearby fence post, grabbed the mug, and sat beside her on the porch steps. At first, not much was said, the pair instead choosing to mutually enjoy the warmth of the coffee in the crisp, chilly morning air.

"You talk about your grandparents a lot," she asked, cracking the silence like an egg, "What were they like?"

This took him aback briefly- it was his own fault, really, for keeping his past so close to his chest, but that was a rare question for him to hear.

"What were they like...?" he pondered aloud, blowing away the last wisps of steam from the steadily cooling mocha, "Well I'd reckon as nice as you could imagine. They weren't perfect people, nobody is, but they always tried their best to do right by each other, and everyone around 'em. Can't remember anyone ever having an unkind word to say when they were involved."

She giggled into the lip of her cup, shaking her head as she did so, "That sounds a lot like someone I know. You really take after them, if they were really like that."

"Shucks, that's mighty kind of you to say. I try and live like they taught me as best I can. Seems the only way I can repay 'em for all those years takin' care of me."

"Hmmm..." she brought her mug down to her lap, face pensive, "I'm sorry if this is too far, but... do you ever wonder if your life would have been different? If your parents stuck around, or even took you with them?"

He blinked blankly at her for a moment, at a rare loss for words, before quickly regaining his composure and shaking his head, "I can't lie and say I never have, but not for a very, very long time. I made my peace with it years ago. Maybe it wasn't the 'right' choice to leave me with grandad and grandma, but I couldn't imagine being very happy relocatin' all the time either."

That statement made her go quiet, and sent her gaze down to her feet, "It isn't very fun, you've got that right."

Shoot.

"I'm real sorry for being insensitive like that," he pulled the brim of his hat down in embarrassment, "I should have chosen my words more carefully."

"No no! You're fine!" she denied, frantically waving her free hand, "Our circumstances are totally different. We only moved every couple years, it wasn't constant travel or anything."

"Still, it couldn't have been easy on ya' if it was enough to make you decide striking out on your own was better than movin' again."

"That wasn't the only reason," she corrected, "It was just... what really spurred me to take to plunge. I figured the longer I was used to never settling down, the harder it would be when I was eventually able to follow my dreams. I was finally given my 'now or never' moment."

"Well," he knocked back his final sip of coffee, wiping his lips with his sleeve in exaggerated satisfaction, "Pardon me for sayin' so, but I'm glad it happened. You were the breath of fresh air these here towns needed."

She breathed out a quiet laugh, bumping her shoulder into his, the warmth of the contact even through cloth sending a pleasant tingle down his body, "You really are quite the charmer, Wayne. I'll admit to being a little slow on the uptake, so I didn't really get what everyone was tittering about you at first. But I definitely get it now."

If he were a lesser man, he would have tossed his hat into the air and hollered at that statement, but managed to resist.

But it was a close battle with himself.

"That so? Funny thing is, I feel like I'm at my clumsiest talkin' to you. You don't want pretty words or flattery like most folk. There's nothin' wrong with any of that, mind you, it's just easier than deep conversation."

"That's what I mean, silly," she replied with a dazzling smile, "Smooth talking Wayne is nice and all, you can't get to know everyone on a deeper level, but I definitely like the Wayne I know a lot better."

"What's this Wayne like?" he asked, dropping how voice down to his real flirtatious octave, "I'm mighty curious."

"He's earnest, very sweet, just a little bit silly, aaaaaand..." she dragged out the word, smiling growing to face splitting levels, before quick as a flash poking the tip of his nose, "...very cute."

Before he could reply, a nearly ear splitting BAAAAAAA arose from the nearby barn.

"Betsy!" she cried out, rising to her feet immediately, taking off in a run towards the sound, tossing only a single glance back at him, "Just leave the mugs there, I'll clean them up later! Goodbye!"

And with that, she was gone.

His hand rose to cover his nose like he hoped to trap the sensation there forever. His heart had thumped in his chest plenty of times for his other paramours, but it had never raced like a thoroughbred horse before he met her.

"Well I'll be," he said quietly to himself, "I'm in love with her."

----

The next time he was making his way to Bloom Farm, he had a very precious pendant hanging down from his neck which he could barely keep himself from fiddling with every few seconds.

Maybe it had been pretty obvious that their trajectories were in line for a crash, but he still felt like a million bucks knowing that she felt the same, enough so that it was her who had reached out to him.

The familiar fields came into view, and he immediately started searching the horizon for a glimpse of her, finally finding her dusting off her porch.

"Aime!" he called out, ditching any pretense of composure and sprinting towards her at full speed, which was worth it to see the joy on her face as he approached, "Mornin', darlin'."

"G'morning, Wayne," her grin had an edge of mischief, "Any mail today, or is this just a social call?"

"The only thing I have to deliver is myself today, I'm afraid to say."

"I think I'll be quite alright," her face softened, putting the broom aside and gesturing for him to come up with her, "Come on in, coffee's already brewing, and I tried my hand at making some cookies with Vivi's milk and Patty's eggs."

He nodded, following her with an expression he knew must have been downright lovesick. 

Maybe Bloom Farm hadn't always been the last stop on Wayne's postal route, but from now on, it would always be the last stop for his heart.•

[friccinfricks]

Simpy Ben HC (bc i’m lazy)

- alright, so - personally I think Benny Boy has a lot of simp potential, despite being, you know, an entire fucking greek god - he just had to find the right gal - and that happens to be you !!! - when you met him, it was in some cutesy lil coffee shop - he was in front of you, and thought you were just so pretty - he got SHY - which is kind of rare for Ben - that’s how he knew you must have been a sign of some sort - and you are, you just don’t know it yet - anyways, so - you can see quite clearly that it’s some cute guy in front of you, but you don’t catch a good glimpse of his face until after the barista takes his order and he glimpses over his shoulder and says, - “I’ll pay for hers, too” - the barista nods and your eyes go wide - you... you can’t believe it. - it’s BEN FUCKING JONES HARDY PAYING FOR YOUR COFFEE - You mutter a soft “thank you” and he gestures for you to come order - he’s like, listening intently so he can memorize your order - when you just order a small hot chocolate he smirks - because like - in his mind that’s so cute and innocent and just lovely - so after the barista hands him the receipt he looks into your eyes and asks if you’d like to join him at a table - you can’t even fathom what’s happening - but - you somehow keep your composure and shrug your shoulders and say, “sure, stranger” - He smiles and you sit down at a little table, he pulls your chair out for you - he asks your name and he can’t keep from grinning when you tell him - because like, he just thinks it’s too pretty - and he thinks you’re just way too gorgeous for your own good - he can’t even hear his name when the barista calls it to pick up the order - he’s too busy being enamored by your Y/E/C eyes - so you get up when they call his name and he’s like ??? wtf ??? - he at that point had yet to tell you his name, he’d been too interested in learning about you - so when you sit back down and you see him with wide eyes and his jaw dropped you smirk and glance at him and say, - “What? Do you think I’m that uncultured?” - he wants to say something but he can’t find the words - so he just smiles and asks you some more questions - you end up staying at the coffee shop for, like, two or three hours - nursing your hot chocolate and vibing together, getting to know each other - you have to force him to talk about himself - he’s a million times more interested in listening to you, and it shows - after awhile you get a call from your roommate about some stupid boy emergency, so you tell him you’ve gotta dash - he offers to pay for a cab or an Uber, but you live quite close to the shop, so you tell him not to worry about it - as you’re getting up to leave, he reaches for your hand and asks you for your number, and you quite happily give it to him - part of him wants to walk you back to your apartment but it feels just a tad too soon, y’know? - so you give him your number and smile and wave at him before leaving the shop - he sits there, leaning on the table - and just watches - watches the way your hair bounces as you walk and how the world around you seems to just... blur - weeks go by, you text a lot - your roommate makes loads of fun of you - i feel like when it comes to social media, Ben’s kinda more of a classic guy - so instead of sending each other tiktoks all day long, you send 20 minute long Vine compilations from YouTube to each other - that’s actually what you do for your first date - well, second, I guess - you text him one day whining about being on your period - and he’s like, “oh this is IT” - so he asks you for your address and brings you some flowers and is sooo excited when you answer the door - your hair’s all messy and the sleep is evident beneath your eyes and he can’t help but think that you look prettier every time he sees you. - and so you let him in and the two of you sit on your bed and watch old Vines on your laptop for an entire day, with intermittent naps - his arm is around your shoulder and half of the time your face is nuzzled in his neck - he’s extremely excited - he can’t believe it - here he is, in your bed with you - and you’re falling asleep right here, practically on top of him - he ends up staying the night, just cos - that morning when he wakes up, he’s a little confused but gets so hyped when he sees you next to him - he thinks he wants to take you home to meet his parents almost immediately - it’s not like you guys kissed or anything - he just... he knows you’re special - when you wake up he says, “good morning sleepyhead” - and you say, “hey stranger” and his smile gets SO WIDE - because that’s his thing!!! that’s your thing!!! - that’s!! that’s practically a nickname!! - oh jeez the fucking BUTTERFLIES you give this man - so yeah it’s basically little instances like this that make him just drool over you, and they continue after he asks you to be his girlfriend (officially) - and on your side - ofc you’re returning the feeling, but part of you just gets so much pleasure from watching him try to impress you - especially in front of his friends - he gets pretty angy (yes, angy) when Joe’s able to make you laugh - Joe has to go up to him and be like, “Ben, this is the Oscars, you brought her here, not me, I’m pretty sure she still wants to leave with you” - or when you talk about books/literature with Rami and Gwil - oh jeez does that drive him nuts - because he’s soooooo impressed by your intellect but he can’t pay attention to a thing you’re saying half of the time because he’s just... his mind goes places, some dirtier than others but all of them involving just how gorgeous you are - so when he sees Rami and Gwil and you talking about literature he feels the urge to wrap his arms around you and remind the world that you’re his - (even if Rami and Gwil weren’t even thinking those kinds of thoughts and were genuinely just having to have a deep/nice conversation with you lmao) - so there you have it - I think the best three words to summarize Ben would be: possessive (but in a cute way, exclusively), adoring, and just overall constantly in love - he’s an MVP, in a way - well, Mr. MVP: - SIMP

[katymacsupernatural]

The Proposal  Chapter 6

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Story Summary: Jensen needs help keeping his life in order. To keep the media off his back. In order to do so, he comes up with a plan. Y/N, just a producer’s assistant, is pulled in to play a part she never thought she would have. Jensen’s fiancee. Only will it stay as a part to play, or will she start to want more?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

While shopping with Ruth a couple of days ago, you had picked out some other items as well, knowing that you might need them in the future. And you were so grateful you had. You really didn't think jeans and one of your favorite band t-shirts would be appropriate. Ruth had great taste and had piled clothes up on the counter for you to take home.

Including this beautiful black dress that you were currently struggling to zip up. It was knee-length, with a high neckline. It fit snug around your chest, but slightly flared at the hips. You had paired it with your only thing left from your Mom, her sapphire necklace and earring set.

Frustrated, you left the zipper down, picking up your purse and slipping on your black flats. No way were you going to spend the evening in heels.

Jensen was sitting on his couch, scrolling through his phone when you came down the stairs. Without looking at you, he placed his phone in his pocket and stood up. "Ready?" He asked.

"Not yet," you answered. "I just need a little help with the zipper."

Finally, he glanced over at you, his jaw clenching slightly as he made no move forward. "I hope this dress is okay. I wasn't sure...,"

"It will do," he answered gruffly, moving around you. His fingers were warm against your skin as he slowly drew the metal zipper up. Your breath caught with the feel of his skin against yours, and you quickly chastised yourself.

"It's strictly business," you repeated over and over again in your head. However, his hand lingered before he brushed the top of your dress.

"There, um," he cleared his throat. "All ready to go."

He brushed past you, his cologne wafting past your lips. Musky, with the scent of fresh pine trees. It was refreshing and alluring. He held the door to the garage open for you, and you finally got a good look at his outfit. He was wearing form-fitting dark jeans that accentuated his thighs and hips. A simple black button-down pulled tight across his shoulders. "You look nice," You told him, passing by to head to the passenger side of his car.

"Thanks," he answered gruffly, your comment throwing him off-kilter. "So do you."

You had already learned that it was a twenty-minute car ride to his brewery, and he talked the entire drive over while you tried to catch glimpses of the scenery. He talked a lot about his family. Of his parents. He had a smile on his face, his love for his parents obvious.

"Y/N, I know this is a lot to put on you," he started to say just as he pulled into the parking lot of his brewery. "I don't expect you to get everyone's names right, or anything like that. But I do need you to pretend you're madly in love with me, and I'll do my best also. I know it's a lot to ask, but I know I couldn't have asked anyone better."

"I promise I'll do my best," you assured him, climbing out of the car to view the impressive set up in front of you. "And please, let me know if I'm not doing it right."

"Ready to get proposed to?" He chuckled, holding his hand out, and you took it, your heart racing.

Only a couple of workers were in the brewery, getting tables set up, food placed in the warmers. Picnic booths were set up along the porch while tall bar tables filled the lobby. "Nice," you said, mainly to yourself. Old fashioned lights were strung up along the heavy beams, casting a nice glow. A stage was on the far side, a bar across from it. It was beautifully decorated, a place you could find yourself spending a lot of time.

"It is, isn't it?" Jensen answered proudly. "It's been a lot of work, but it's come along nicely."

"I bet it see's a lot of business," you continued. "I'd love to come here with friends. To sit on that porch and drink a beer with the warm Texas breeze blowing around us. You serve food?"

His hand rested proudly on the heavy wooden countertop. "Not in here. But we have food trucks that park out front. That way we can work with other local, small businesses as well."

It was a great idea. For a second you let yourself imagine coming here during the evenings, helping serve beer and talk to the customers. It felt like a place you could belong. "I think it's a great idea," you answered softly.

"Come," he insisted. "People will be arriving soon, and there are still things to be done."

You followed him around, listening as he talked to the workers, seeing a new side to Jensen. Sure, you were used to seeing him as Dean, the character he played, but here? He was kind, but firm, and knew exactly what he wanted. He was lit up with a passion, and you could tell he loved this place dearly. It was fun, watching him as he moved around, getting things ready for the proposal dinner.

That had your smile faltering. So much weighed on tonight. His family not only had to like you, but they had to believe you had secretly been dating Jensen for quite some time. That you were madly in love. And while you admired the man, and were definitely attracted, it seemed a little too much.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked, noticing the frown on your face. "If you don't want to put out the flower displays, that's okay."

He was so nice, it made you feel even worse about this evening. "Are you sure you want to go through with it?" You asked him. "It's not too late to back out. Your family doesn't know I'm here, and...,"

"Y/N, everything's going to be okay," he assured you, reaching out and grasping your arms, trying to comfort you.

But you couldn't get the nagging thought out of your head that everything wasn't going to be okay. "But you're you! And I'm..well, who's to say they won't take one look at me, and realize this is all a scam! I'm not a good actress, and this is huge!"

"We all get cold feet," he tried again. "But it will be fine. My family will love you, and they'll just be so happy that I brought a girl home. It's been so long, and well, that was a train wreck. They're going to be thrilled. It will all work out, I promise."

You took a deep breath. And before Jensen could assure you any more, the door was pushed open, and an older lady made her way inside. "Jensen! Come give your Mom a hug. It's been weeks!"

Read Chapter 7

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82​​ @acreativelydifferentlove​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​​ @akshi8278​​   @bi-danvers0​​  @cap-just-said-language​​ @colette2537​​   @deansgirl215​​  @flamencodiva​​ @hamiltrash1411​​ @its-not-a-tulpa​​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​​ @justanotherwinchester​​ @just-another-winchester​​ @karouwinchester​​ @keikoraventeller​​  @krys198478​​ @librarygeekery​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @misspygmypie​​ @mlovesstories​​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​​  @mrspeacem1nusone​​ @nothinbuttrouble2​​ @ria132love​​ @ruprecht0420​​  @screechingartisancashbailiff​   @sortaathief​​ @superseejay721517​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​ @torn-and-frayed​​ @tricksterdean​​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​​ @woodworthti666​​

The Proposal Tags: @supraveng​ @vicmc624​ @lottieellz101 @impala-dreamer​ @maddiepants​ @emilyshurley​ @tonystark-makes-me-cry​ @starryeyeseunbyul​  @rach-12​ @spnfamily-j2​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @flamencodiva​ @compresshischest09​ @parinarain​  @stoneyggirl​  @tftumblin​ @massivelycreepypineapple​ @posiemax​

Forever Tags:  @aditimukul​​ @alexwinchester23​​ @algud​​ @amanda-teaches​​ @andreaaalove​​   @artisticpoet​​ @atc74​​ @be-amaziing​​ @camelotandastronauts​​ @caswinchester2000​​ @cpag7​​ @chelsea072498​​  @closetspngirl​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @docharleythegeekqueen​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @ericaprice2008​​  @esoltis280​​   @foxyjwls007​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @goldenolaf25​​ @growningupgeek​​  @heartislubbingdubbing​​ @heyitscam99​​ @hobby27​​ @horsegirly99​​ @imsuperawkward​​ @internationalmusicteacher​​ @iwriteaboutdean​​  @jayankles​​ @jensen-gal​​ @justsomedreaming​​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​​ @linki-locks11​​ @littleblue5mcdork​​  @lowlyapprentice​​   @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​​ @mogaruke​​ @monkeymcpoopoo​​ @musiclovinchic93​​  @nanie5​​   @percussiongirl2017​​ @plaid-lover-bay25​​   @roonyxx​​ @ronja-uebrick​​ @roxyspearing​​  @samanddeanmyheroes​​ @sandlee44​​ @shamelesslydean​​ @simonsbluee​​ @sillesworldofwriting​​ @sgarrett49​​ @spnbaby-67​​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​​ @spnwoman​​   @superbadassnatural​​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​​   @thewinchesterchronicles​​ @vvinch3st3r​​  @whimsicalrobots​​ @winchester-writes​​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​​

[space-nerd2005]

Maybe She’s Got a Friend-Chapter 2

After a very long wait, ITS HERE!!! This chapter is longer than the first one to hopefully make up for how long it took to come out.

Here is a link to the playlist I made to go along with it

This is the chapter Reader meet Bucky. YAY!!!

2176 words

“I'm terrified out of my mind! Although Steve did just fine, that doesn't mean I will be as fortunate. I have to go. If I don’t make it, tell Peggy I’m sorry. 08.19.41” I quickly shoved my pen in my pocket and shut my journal. Steve opened the door for me and I exited the car. I walked alongside Steve down a long corridor leading to large double doors. My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I was extremely anxious about the life-changing procedure. I had always been an anxious person, being in the SSR only made that worse. Steve spoke my name softly and I looked up to him and hummed in response.

 “I can feel the anxiety radiating off of you, we can sit for a minute if that's what you need,” I smiled at Steve and nodded. Since I met him, he has had striking charisma. Even before the serum, he always knew when he needed to calm someone down. He led me to a bench nearby and sat next to me. "What if it fails, or worse, what if I'm still viewed in the same way once it's over?" I looked up at Steve. He had a sympathetic look on his face. My knee was bouncing up and down and I was playing with the rings on my fingers. Steve placed his hand on my knee, stopping it from bouncing, and grabbed my hand, holding it softly in his. “I know you are worried, but everything will work out okay," he said, holding eye contact with me.

 “I just want to serve alongside those who have put their lives on the line for our country, not be a poster girl.” Steve smiled and that confused me. He spoke up after a moment of demented silence. 

“You are one of the strongest women I know, this serum won't change much. You must force the change; believe me, I know what it's like to be pushed aside for being something you did not choose to be.” I took a deep breath and resolved to bury my emotions. Steve rose to his feet, and I soon followed. “Let's do this!” I smiled, and Steve returned my smile. Together, we marched into the lab. All eyes soon landed on Steve and I blushed, all of my nervous energy rushing back to me. Steve walked me down the stairs to Dr. Erskine. “Please take your uniform off, and ignore the judging stares. They are only wishing they were you.” The doctor whispered into my ear. I started to strip down when Howard Stark came up to me. “You are one lucky gal.” I faked a smile and continued working on taking my uniform off. “Just make sure you take out all of your hairpins; they could be bad for the procedure,” Stark said softly, and I nodded. I made sure to double-check I took all of my bobby pins. I took a deep breath before sitting down in the Vita-Ray Chamber. I quickly scanned the room for Peggy. My eyes danced on Steve for a second longer before returning to look for Peggy. I had no luck. She must have not made it. A deep sad feeling struck my heart. There wasn’t much of an audience this time and you could tell that Colonel Phillips was not happy with Erskine’s choice in subjects. I could hear them arguing when Dr. Erskine came to brief me on the procedure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you I wanted an army, and a woman, THIS woman can’t fight my battles for me!” Colonel Phillips could be heard down the hall from Dr. Erskine’s office. I was sitting outside because I was called for a briefing for tomorrow. “I assure you, Colonel, that she will be a wonderful asset to your team. I would like to see how the female anatomy reacts to the serum.” Dr. Erskine replied calmly. “If you don’t think for a minute that the government will defund our department.” The door to the doctor’s office flew open and the Colonel stormed off. I could have sworn I saw a shocked look on his face like he wasn’t expecting me to be there, but he quickly covered it up with his angry façade. After the Colonel had been long gone, Dr. Erskine invited me in. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My daze was broken by a nurse suddenly sticking a needle in my arm. I smiled at her as she walked away. Then other nurses began to prep the chamber by adding the remaining six vials of the serum. The doctor then motioned me to lay down and two more nurses strapped me to the bed and brought two arms down to my chest. Steve gave my hand one last squeeze before being escorted up into the box above us. The doctor gave me a pleading look. I nodded and he smiled and turned to a nurse, "Now." Dr. Erskine backed away and my vision went blurry for the first seconds I felt numb. I wasn’t even sure it was working. Then the pain hit me like a train. It felt like lava was running through my veins. It was so quick and before I knew it, it flipped, like a switch. Suddenly, it was cold, I was freezing. My eyes snapped open and I let out a low-pitched scream. Then everything went dark. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The next thing I see are sparks. There are sparks everywhere. Then a jolt of electricity runs in my veins and the last thing I remember hearing was a loud bang, followed by multiple smaller bangs. My memory went quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next thing I remember is waking up in a bright room. My eyes were hazy and I couldn’t focus on anything in the room. I see a hunched-over object in the chair next to my bed. My eyes focused a little bit and I realized it was Steve. I reached my hand out and grabbed Steve’s arm. He jolted up and I got a glimpse of his face. He looked extremely tired. I frowned at him, “Steve, you look like you’ve been through hell and back.” My raspy voice seemed to snap him awake because he stood up. “Oh my,” he took a pause and looked guilty. “You’re probably wondering what happened.” I tried to think back to what happened that fateful day. Steve spoke up and I lost my train of thought. “Something happened in the chamber, causing you to pass out. Then a HYDRA agent’s bomb blew up, he shot the doctor and I chased him down. He ended up killing himself with a cyanide capsule.” I was trying to process what Steve had just told me when Peggy stormed in and smiled at me.

 “You’re quite the looker," she chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. I’m sure my appearance was super attractive. “Steve, I think James needs you. I’ll watch her while you are gone.” She smiled and we both watched as he left. She looked at me and took Steve’s spot on the chair next to the bed. “What’s wrong with Steve?” I asked. Peggy frowned and looked at me, saying, "I suppose you did miss it all. Well, this whole week has been super hard for all of us, but especially Steve. He blamed himself for everything that happened on Tuesday. Then he found out that his best friend, James, or as most call him, ‘Bucky’ was declared MIA. Steve went to the HYDRA base and reclaimed those soldiers.” It had been quite the week. “Oh.” was all I could muster. Peggy smiled and said, "Your doctor said you could probably leave tomorrow, depending on how you feel. "Nothing too serious." She said this as she smiled at me again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the next week, I was released from the hospital and back in action, well sorta… I am currently in a lab having experiments tested on me like I'm a lab rat. Currently, they are testing my strength. I was sparring with an extremely buff man and I was starting to run low on stamina. I don’t think that the serum affected me the same as it did Steve because I don’t have more muscle content and my stamina feels about the same. Lost in thought I didn’t realize that the man was charging at me. I panicked and put my hands out and braced my feet closing my eyes. I felt a rush wind before a loud thud. I opened my eyes and found that the man who was coming full force at me, seizing on the ground with gold electricity buzzing along with his figure. I looked at my hands and they were shooting small streams of electricity between my fingers. A few doctors ran in and tended to the man while another walked up to me. He was frightened by me because he stood a couple of feet away from me “How did you do that?” he asked while holding his clipboard up to his face ready to take notes. “I-I-I’m not sure, I imagined beating him in a fight and I opened my eyes and he was on the ground.” He looked at me and frowned. “If you could learn how to control that, you alone could be the downfall of the Axis Powers.” I smiled, ‘yes yes I could’ I said to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that encounter I started to practice using my newfound electrokinesis, I wasn’t very good at it but I could muster up big charges that took a lot of damage but also took a lot of energy. I had finally been recruited for an actual military mission. It was to get some HYDRA intel. Steve and I had talked previously about me leaving and he said that if I did it successfully, he would let me join his group The Howling Commandos. I was excited because that meant I could go on missions, let alone important missions, with Steve. I knew I couldn't fail this mission. After being beaten the shit out of, I came home to an impatient Peggy. I  explained that the mission was successful and she exclaimed with “Good, I could go for a nice meal and I know you could too. Let's get you changed and we will go out.” She smiled and I swear her smiles are contagious because I caught myself smiling brightly back at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After showering, fixing my hair, and slipping into a blue Grable tea dress Peggy and I decided to head out. As we were catching up she pulled in at a bar and I let out a sigh, “I thought we were going to dinner.” Peggy grabbed her clutch and looked at me “I just need to tell Steve about Howard’s equipment, care to join?” I looked at her as she got out of the car and I decided why not, I haven’t seen Steve in a week, I kinda missed him. “I will be right there,” I told her as she entered the bar. Since Peggy was rushing me I didn’t even have time to put my shoes on. So I hopped out of the car barefooted and rushed into the bar. Immediately when I entered there was some singing and I was hit with a strong smell of alcohol. I was fumbling with my heels as I was getting closer to Peggy’s voice. “0800 Captain.” Peggy stopped right in front of me. After exiting the small room she was just in. Smiling a toothy grin I quipped “Awe you’re blushing.” A swift smack to the arm followed my comment and I rubbed it “Ouch.” I smiled again “I’ll be right out, I would like to say Hi to Steve.” I said to which Peggy replied, “I’ll be waiting in the car, don’t be too long, we have a reservation.” As I messed with my second heel getting closer to the room I could hear Steve’s voice clearly “Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she’s got a friend.”

I finally got my second heel on and I stumbled into the room, my eyes landing on Steve. “Hey, I’ve missed you!” I smiled at him. “Hey! Have you met Bucky?” I looked over to the man he was referring to and my mind went blank. Even though I haven't drunk anything I felt intoxicated in his presence. A blush crept up on my face and I smiled goofily at him. “I don’t think we have.” I smiled and Steve told him my name. Bucky said it slowly and I was swooning. “Hi,” I said, trying to act confident. Then I remembered Steve’s promise about joining the Howling Commandos. “Consider me your partner” I winked at him and Steve looked shocked as did Bucky. “You completed the mission successfully?!” “ Without a hitch”. Then my conversation was cut short by a loud honking noise that could only be Peggy. “I’ve gotta go, I'll see you tomorrow morning Steve!” I said while walking out and into the chilly evening air.

[r6shippingdelivery]

Outsider pov of a cashier at a shoo near the base has a crush on kapkan or glaz/chanka and slowly over time realized they are together, either by learning russian, seeing them be cutesy or smthn idk

I was about to go for the easy option, but then Tachanka's rework and elite came out, and with so many people thisting openly after him, I took this route instead, because Tachanka deserves at least one (1) lovestruck cashier fangirling over him :D 

And as always, you can read this on AO3 too, second chapter of the Tachanka/Kapkan ficlet colletion, woo!

Being a shopkeeper was terribly dull work, especially in a small town like Hereford. Same faces day in day out, same old stories. It was all so repetitive, she could have gone through it with her eyes closed. The most exciting thing she remembered was when old Daniels’ goose escaped from its pen and got inside Harriet’s pub. That was six months ago, and people still talked about it like it happened yesterday.

Then one day more people started appearing around. More often than not, foreigners. Everyone whispered about the nearby military base, looking at the newcomers with distrust, but she was over the moon. New and interesting people, that was exactly what the town needed. Who cared if they were military, they bought stuff like everyone else, right? And since her little shop was at the edge of town, it was often a place these people visited. That and the pub.

She liked to observe them and make stories about who they could be. For example, the young one with the Yorkshire accent, she could see him being the son of a general, and was following in his father’s footsteps. Of course, she knew the likelihood of getting any single detail right was minimal, but it was a fun way to pass the time.

_ _ _

It had been a boring day, and she was on her phone, browsing Instagram, when someone dropped a few items by the register. Anyone would admit the guy cut an imposing figure, being so tall and wide. And while most people would eye him warily, both suspicious and afraid, her mind had turned to mush in an instant.

Those arms looked like they’d make the sleeves rip if he flexed, and the hint of tattoos she glimpsed from his open shirt, oh goodness! Who cared he was a bit too old for her, looking was free and it hurt no one. Because yes, she was aware she was drooling over a stranger, but as long as every saucy thought remained in her head, there was no harm and she wouldn’t come off as a sexualizing creep. She barely paid attention to the items she rang, mostly beer and pickles, too busy stealing glances at this adonis in front of her.

“How much is this?” The man asked.

The first thing she noticed was the deliciously deep voice and the heavy Russian accent. Second, he was pointing at a cheap kid princess set, with a plastic tiara and wand. So not only was he sinfully attractive, he was a dad who thought of his girl too. She almost wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Luckily, she didn’t stammer when talking, but after that everything was kind of a blur. He left, and she kept a dopey smile on her face for the rest of her shift. Holy shit, you didn’t see men like that around this little town! _ _ _

Next time the big guy came to the shop, another dude accompanied him. One who had really nice eyes but looked like he was sulking or trying to hide from everyone. Mr. Grumpy, as she dubbed him, was quite handsome too, but not as much as his companion.

They wandered around the shop, talking in Russian and loading their basket. Despite not understanding a thing, she strained to hear what they were saying. She felt like a gossipy old woman, but at least she was able to catch their names: Sasha and Maxim. Pretty sure the absolute hunk was Sasha, and Mr. Grumpy Maxim, but she couldn’t be certain. Sasha didn’t sound very fitting for him, though.

This time she paid attention to the purchase, a ton of booze, and couldn’t help herself from asking, “Did you little princess like the toys?”

He laughed, which made Mr. Grumpy scowl, and answered, “It was perfect.”

_ _ _

A quick research showed her that Sasha was actually a nickname for Alexander, and that was a much more regal name, befitting of him. For some reason she had thought Sasha to be a feminine name, although it possibly was a nickname for Alexandra too. Armed with that knowledge, she was now totally confident in dropping her made up nicknames and using Sasha and Maxim instead.

However, neither of them showed up at the store for two long weeks. When she finally saw them again, they both looked dead tired. Maxim stayed by the door, looking grumpier than ever, while Alexander went to buy some cigarettes and assorted snacks. She gathered the courage to say “Welcome back” to him, in what she considered a subtle attempt at letting him know she noticed his absence. Alexander just nodded, but she liked to think his eyes brightened up a little.

On the way out, he handed a candy bar to Maxim, who looked surprised and hesitant to grab it. Alexander wouldn’t take a no for an answer though, and Mr. Grumpy smiled at him while unwrapping the chocolate. How sweet, Alexander was such a considerate friend.

_ _ _

After that she saw them much often around, much to her delight. Sometimes it was just Alexander, others he came with some other Russian guys, but most often he was with Maxim. These two seemed almost inseparable.

The purchases were mundane yet never the same, which sparked her interest. Most people had stuff they bought often, what she called “the usual” of each customer. But not them. It was like they wanted to try everything or get a sample of all the items available, one by one. Although watching them interact was far more entertaining than what they bought.

These two bickered constantly, like an old married couple, and she was dying of curiosity to know what they talked about. However, short of learning Russian, she would have to live with that mystery. Observing their body language sometimes offered a little insight, but not much. She noticed they were quite touchy, more than the average guy friends around here, but it was probably a cultural thing. There was also the time she could have sworn they kissed.

It was just a peck on the lips, so fast that she even doubted what she’d seen. But then Maxim scoffed and half-heartedly punched Alexander, shoving him away. Alexander didn’t take it badly. In fact, he was laughing, which only added to her confusion.

She even watched the security footage to make sure she didn’t just imagine that. And there it was, a fleeting contact that lasted a few seconds. Friendly mouth kisses were a thing in the ex-soviet countries, right? At least that was what she heard...

_ _ _

For the next few weeks, every time she saw them, she kept thinking about what their relationship was exactly. And they came to the shop pretty often.

All their interactions showed a certain closeness between them, yet a friendship could easily explain it. Aside from that one time, she never saw them kiss again, but she kept wondering. At first she assumed he was married and with a kid at least, a little girl. But maybe he was divorced. He could be unfaithful, but she didn’t like to think about that possibility. Perhaps he was with his grumpy partner and… they adopted? No, this was far fetched, she felt. They were Russian and military, no way.

The confirmation that these two were together came in two parts. First was the time Alexander bought condoms. She couldn’t help noticing it was the XL kind, and wow, whoever was the lucky one, she low-key envied them. The most revealing thing that day was the smirk Alexander gave to Maxim, whom for once didn’t look grumpy, but flustered.

The second and final confirmation was only scant days later, when Maxim got a phone call while they were shopping. The conversation was in English, and at one point he asked for Alexander’s opinion on what option he preferred, to which he asked “Whatever you like best, princess.“

In that moment, everything clicked into place. She had always known she had no chance with him, mainly because she thought he was married and she was no home-wrecker. And yes, he was taken, but not in the way she imagined at first. That was fine; looking was free and she was always discreet in her ogling. Besides, while imagining Mr. Grumpy being gifted a cheap princess crown was hilarious, it was also cute in a certain way.

“You better treat this man like a king,” She mentally addressed Maxim. Because from what she had seen, Alexander definitely seemed the type to treat his partner like royalty.

They looked happy together, though, and that was always nice. Good relationships were hard to find, and she wished them the best.  But it would also be great if she had the chance to see Alexander shirtless, at least once. A gal could feast her eyes and daydream, right?

[jungshookz]

ok but like hot yoga instructor jungkook and his highly flustered, very inflexible student y/n

→ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

→ genre: nonidol!au, yogainstructor!au, everyone joined this class to drool over jungkook 

→ wordcount: 4k

→ note: i have never ever wanted to partake in yoga in my entire life but if jungkook is the instructor then sign me the hYUCK up!!!!!!! y/n wears leg warmers!!! and jungkook thinks it’s adorable!!!!! 

(gif isn’t mine!) ((also i have never seen this gif before wtf)) 

whoever said that yoga was a relaxing and stress-reducing activity has CLEARLy lost their goddamn mind

because you’re pretty sure that if you wrung your t-shirt out you’d be able to produce an ocean’s worth of pure sweat and you’ve never been so stressed in your entire life

at the start you were pretty excited about signing up for yoga because it felt like that was your first real move as a Grown Woman

you signed up by yourself when usually you would never go to something without someone by your side (also namjoon was too busy so he couldn’t make it)

you went out and bought a brand new (expensive) yoga mat and like 4 pairs of leggings and 5 new shirts all meant speciFICally for yoga (you got a water bottle for FREE so if you think about it it was a pretty good deal)

anD you found these super cute leg warmers that coincidentally match with the yoga mat 

you don’t think you’re supposed to wear leg warmers when doing yoga but they’re sO cute :-(( 

but that was a month and a bit ago

back when you were young and naive

so, so naive

you were a FOOL

you would’ve dropped out of this class eons ago but uh

there is one thing that’s keeping you here

“remember, everybody! the purpose of yoga is to build strength, awareness and harmony in both the mind and body… we are now going to be moving onto core exercises!”

and that one thing is jeon jungkook

holy moLY the guy is attractive

twenty two years old (he’s only a couple months older than you!)

perfectly tousled hair that falls perfectly in front of his eyes and when he gets sweaty and pushes his hair back to reveal his forehead it just gets you fEELIN some typa way

round brown eyes that literally twinkle when he laughs (his laugh is juSt as adorable as him)

you didn’t think you were into guys with piercings but jungkook has two silver hoops hanging from his ears so now you know you’re definiTEly into guys with piercings

biceps that you would love to bite into

broad shoulders that you want to wrap your arms around

an even broader back that you want to diG your nails into

every now and then you catch a glimpse of his abs when he lifts his arms to do stretches

at the end of class he likes to do this cool-down/meditation activity where he dims the lights and gets you guys to lie down on your yoga mats and jungkook will wander around the room and he’ll speak in this low, whispery voice (“imagine that you’re in the middle of a lush, grassy field…”) and you can’t help but feel like that does the exact opposite of cooling you down because you find yourself sweating more than ever when you hear him approaching you

contrary to popular belief (aka namjoon’s belief) you didn’t actually join this class because of him

you joined it because you genuinely wanted to get into yoga and you were (this close) to dropping out but you staYed because of him

with that being said

it’s not like you’ve made any moves to go and talk to him because:

a) there’s always a hoArd of girls who flock to him as soon as class ends and

b) you’re terrified of talking to pretty people and jungkook is a very pretty person

you wouldn’t even know what to talk to him about if you got the chance to talk to him

you certainly wouldn’t want to ask him to help you with a yoga pose because that’d mean him focusing all of his attention on you and that’s the laST thing you want because

it turns out you’re not as good at this yoga thing as you thought you would be

you thought yoga was just overrated stretching but you were heavily mistaken after the first week of being in jungkook’s classes

it’s not just sTRETching

it’s all about balancing and being in touch with your inner chi or whatever the fuck the flyer said

you’re also not as flexible as you thought you were

you nearly pulled your damn hamstring at some point and the sudden twinge in your thigh made you collapse on the ground in less than a millisecond

there was this other pose that jungkook had everyone do

something called the flamingo pose which yOu thought was just standing up straight with one knee up which is pretty doable in your opinion

HOWEVER  

you actually have to bend down and round your back whiLe hugging a knee to your chest and you were like??? i have nEver in my life seen a flamingo stand like this

anyways you lasted about three seconds before you toppled over once again

you’re pRETTY sure the rest of the girls in here are secretly really good at yoga because none of them seem to have issues with balancing

this is a beginner’s class and you have a sneaking suspicion that these ladies.,,, are not beginners.,,. at ALL

there are about 20 people in here (including you)

you haven’t really made an effort to hang out with anyone

well

there was the first week that classes started that you kind of talked to some girls who were in the back (they moved their mats to the front now for obvious reasons)

you went out to grab some drinks with them after class one evening and needless to say, the entire time you were talking to them you were slighTLY uncomfortable and you ended up calling namjoon and pleading that he leave the library early to come and pick you up

PLUS you guys didn’t go out for real drinks

you went to a dumb smoothie place and you ended up paying like $8 for a banana almond milk thingy (it was pretty good but that’s beside the point)

anyways

every time you brought up a new topic somehow they would round it back to ‘how cute the instructor is’ which was fAIR but you just wanted a chance to talk about how the flamingo pose doesn’t make any sense

“what did you guys think of today’s exercises?” you shift and cross your (sore) legs before taking a sip of your smoothie and looking around at the girls

“oh, they actually weren’t that bad!”

“yeah, i thought they were pretty easy. the flamingo one was a piece of cake!”

“the pistol squat wasn’t as bad as i thought it’d be!”

noises of agreement go round the table and you furrow your brows

the pistol squat was AWFUL

essentially you had to squat down (your butt can’t touch the ground)

keep one foot flat on the ground

stick one leg out and keep your toes pointed to the sky

and then raise your arms up and keep your fingers pointed to the sky too (“reach through your fingertips…”)

surprisingly enough you didn’t fall over but you were starting to tremble uncontrollably and your body was BEGGING you to stop

you decide not to say anything because the last thing you want is to be ouTed as the weakest person in the group (even though it’s already pretty obvious) ((no offence))

“say, ariel, i noticed you kept asking for help!” you clear your throat and look over at the brunette “did you struggle with the flamingo pose too because lemme tell yA I-“

“oh, please. ariel didn’t need any help - she just wanted jungkook to wrap his big, strong arms around her-“

“hey, he was the one who put his hands on my waist and pulled me in-“

“uH, you foRced his hands on your waist like that- we all saw you, you hO!”

“to be fair i probably would’ve done the same thing”

“sAME”

the table bursts into giggles and they start betting on who’s going to score with him first and thaT’s when you decide that now would be a good time to text namjoon to save you

you feel SCAMMED

you thought you would finally be joining the gal pal yoga group of your dreams but these girls are from the gal pal yoga group from the fiery depths of hELL

(side note they’re actually very nice girls but you just feel like maybe you guys are meant to be yoga acquaintances only)  

anyways

“-moving on to core exercises!”

you let out a quiet groan and let your head flop down a little

you hATE the core exercises

the flamingo was a core exercise

the pistol squat was a core exercise

if anything you’ve learned that you’re the woRSt at core exercises

your favourite is the corpse pose because it’s literally just lying down on your back

you are the expERt of the corpse pose

“alright, ladies. we’re going to try something a little different today!” jungkook claps his hands together before smiling brightly “we’re going to go from the chaturanga pose, push up to a high plank, get back down in the dolphin pose, and end with forearm plank.”

oh god

that’s not one core exercises

that’s fouR core exercises rolled into one mEGA core exercise

you swallow thickly and look around to see if anyone looks as nervous as you do

everyone’s just drooling over jungkook

greAt

allow me to demonstrate!” jungkook chirps and steps onto his yoga mat and you sit up straighter to get a better view of him

it’s a little tough because you’ve stuck yourself in the back in the corner of the room but anything’s better than making eye contact with jungkook while you’re a red and sweaty mess

“the chaturanga is kind of like if you combined a plank with a tricep push up. remember to keep your elbows close to your body while keeping them bent at a 90 degree angle. don’t let your knees hit the ground!” he lowers himself down to the ground and you hear the girl next to you let out a quiet gasp because yes, jungkook’s biceps just flexed we gET IT

“from there, we push up to a high plank-“ jungkook pushes himself up in one smooth movement “make sure to lengthen your tailbone to your heels- you should be able to feel the burn in your thighs…” jungkook also has very nice thighs in case that wasn’t mentioned earlier

“the dolphin pose is easy to get to from a high plank because all you have to do is bend your body like an upside down v-“ jungkook slowly bends to an upside down v “-and finally, the forearm plank that we’ll hold for… 30 seconds. everyone got it?”

a collective hum goes around the room and you literally want to sCREAM into the void

how?????? how the hELL are you supposed to bend your body like that????

you’re going to have to soak in the tub when you go home later

there’s no way you’re going to be able to do all of that without literally passing out

you know what

it’ll be fine

just don’t think too hard about it and you’ll be fine

but for the love of god

please try noT TO fall over again

1. chaturanga

so far so good

this is a loT harder than planking because you’re holding yourself up on your hands rather than your forearms

but you’re holding yourself up pretty well!!!

you give yourself a mental pat on the back

maybe yoga doES help with upper body strength after all

“looking good, ladies… if it gets too hard for you, feel free to lower your knees to the ground!” jungkook steps around the room and keeps his hands behind his back

he’s on the other side of the room but you kinda wish he was on youR side of the room to see you totally nAILING this the chatamango or whatever it’s called

2. high plank

you let out a breath of relief when jungkook calls the time and asks that everyone push themselves up into a high plank

which is basically the beginning pose of a push up but then you just hold yourself

you grin like a maniac because once again you are KILLING this move

your arms are starting to hurt a little bit and you feel your butt moving higher up into the air aka your body is starting to reject the high plank

“if you feel the burn in your core and your thighs, that means it’s working!” jungkook claps his hands together

it feels like someone’s holding a flamethrower to your stomach and your thighs and your eyes squeeze shut in discomfort

jungkook starts to head towards the back of the room where you are and you curse quietly

why couldn’t he have come over during the chuttabango?????

your arms start trembling slightly and you grit your teeth

jEsus

cALL THE TIME

CALL IT

“am i doing it right, jungkook?” ariel chirps and you raise your head to look over at her

jungkook turns to glance at her before nodding his head “yep!” he responds simply

“are- are you sure?” ariel stammers and you snort quietly when you see her push her butt up slightly “maybe you can help push me down-“

“okay, dolphin pose!”

3. dolphin pose

you let your eyes flutter shut and your eyes drop when you finally get yourself in the right position

you can’t help but wonder why this would be called the dolphin pose

maybe you’re supposed to make dolphin noises whiLE doing the post

“it’s y/n, right?” you jump in surprise when jungkook’s face appears riGht in front of yours

oH GOD

you look up at him from the position you’re in and you nearly choke

you’re probably as red as an apple right now anD you’re sure your high ponytail from earlier is now a sad droopy ponytail

it’s noT a good time for jungkook to see you

“uh, yes! yes, that’s me.” you’re not sure if you should get up or stay in this position and you shift slightly on your mat

“would you mind if i helped you a little bit?” he smiles kindly and you furrow your brows

“with what?” you turn your head as jungkook gets up to walk around so that he’s behind you

“it’s just that your back is a little too arched for my liking. is it okay if i…” you glance over your shoulder and your heart starts raCING when you see jungkook hovering his hands over you

“oh, uh, i guess?” you turn back to face the front

jungkook presses a hand to the small of your back before sliding it up your spine to straighten you out and you feel your entire face beginning to burn up when he leans in and bends down over you

he splays his hand in between your shoulder blades

“good, there we go… make sure to keep your ribcage and tummy really suCked in.” jungkook slides his hands down your sides and pulls you backwards a little

and then it happens

it happens

it

happens

your bum accidentally brushes up against his crotch

and then your foot slips slightly and you quite literally push RIGHT up against jungkook

you feel him freeze

well

now you’re going to have to leave the country and change your name

you’re tempted to burrow your face into the crook of your elbow to keep yourself from screaMING

“good!” jungkook clears his throat and gives the small of your back a pat “yep, that’s good! i, uh… everyone, feel free to move into the final position if you’d like! i… i will be right back!”

you press your lips together when you feel jungkook pull away from you before he’s scurrying off to the door

oh my god

your ass brushed up against his-

and then you puSHED BACK-

OH My god

you immediately flop down on your yoga mat and flip over so that you’re on your back

you’re panting slightly from the exertion of the exercises and you scrunch your nose in frustration

goOD ONE

“what do you mean you can’t come and pick me up?” you whine into the phone and plop down on the bench

you wince immediately

your ass and the backs of your thighs feel like someone beat you with a baseball bat and then set ur lower body on fire 

you keep your phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder as you move to put your shoes back on

class ended twenty-ish minutes ago so now you’re in the locker room changing out of your sweaty clothes

after jungkook got back from wherever it was he went he was like how about we end class eaRLy today

most people were disappointed even though he was only ending it like 5 minutes earlier

you noticed him watching you as you rolled up your mat but you could noT look him in the eye and you zipped out of there so quickly

u didn’t say goodbye either

what were you even supposed to say to him

‘hey, you remember when i like, pushed my ass up against you and arched my back? total accident! okay, see you next time!’

you shudder at the thought

jungkook probably thinks you’re a little pErv now

“i’m sorry!!!” namjoon sighs on the other end of the phone “i told you i had a date tonight bro”

“i know bRo but you said you didn’t have to pick her up til 7 and it’s only 5:45 so you have plenTy of time to swing by and pick me up then drive me home!!! c’mON it’s raining out please don’t make me take the bus home-“

“i’ll make it up to you somehow, okay?? by the way - i might not come home tonight if, uh… you know. if the date goes well.”

“so now you’re telling me that not only will i be eating dinner alone - i will also be in the apartment aLONE in the middle of a terrifying thunderstorm”

a beat of silence goes by

“…yep.”

you let out a huff and roll your eyes “alright, fine. have fun on your date. be safe. call me if you need anything.” you hang up and toss your phone into your duffel bag before pulling your sweatshirt on

you let out a quiet groan when you realize you didn’t even bring an umbrella with you

so now you’re probably going to catch a coLD

you push the swinging door open and step out of the locker room and swing your duffle bag over your shoulder while mentally planning which bus you should take home

the 44 will probably be super full right now considering it’s the end of the work day

maybe you can take the 78? but that one goes along the highway which means it’ll take longer to get home which is noT what you want

you turn the corner and-

“ooF-“ you immediately bump into someone haRd and flop backwards onto your soRE butt

ok OW

“oh god, sorry! are you okay??” you raise your head and your heart stops in your chest when you see that you’ve bumped into

oF course

of course you rammed right into jungkook

he’s changed out of his workout gear into a pair of distressed jeans and a loose white button up and uh..,,. he’s nevEr looked better

“i’m fine, don’t worry! i-i’m sorry, i wasn’t watching where i was going-“

“no, no! it’s my bad, i probably shouldn’t have been walking so close to the corner… here, lemme help you up-“

he holds his hand out for you and you take it graciously

you seriously didn’t realise how strong jungkook actually was because he helps you up in one swift movement and you end up stumbling into his chest agaIn

“you alright there?” jungkook laughs lightly and keeps holding your hand to keep you steady

okay

here’s the deal

this is definitely the first time he’s spoken to you outside of class

he won’t lie

he didn’t actually know you existed til like the second week of class but that’s because you’re always tucked away in the back of the classroom

it was that one time you had floPPed down to the ground and shattered the silence of the room that he noticed you and your…

baby blue leg warmers (and matching yoga mat)

(which you haven’t worn for a while and he can only assume it’s because the other girls in class don’t wear them) ((he wants u to wear them again because they seemed to make u happy)) 

and since then he’s always snuck a glance or two in your direction whenever you’re not looking

you’re always cracking jokes n stuff about the poses to the person next to you 

during the five minute breaks he always sees you snacking on a granola bar or some teddy grahams and you always offer your snacks to the other girls but they shut you down most of the time which makes him >:-(

he always wants to wander to your section of the room when he walks around but riGht as he gets near you someone else is calling for his help

so today in class was the first time he got to see you in action

your dolphin pose was actually pretty good but uh

he doesn’t want to be that guy

a part of him wanted to help straighten out your back as a good instructor and the other part of him wanted to see your butt in those tight yoga leggings as a Normal Hormonal Young Man (he was not disappointed at the sight)

he just wasn’t expecting his crotch to make contact with your ass which was why he had to duCk out for a couple of minutes

anyways

“ah, i’m good… sorry about that, seriously” you let out a nervous chuckle

this is awful

you literally can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye

“what are you still doing here? most people have already left” jungkook bends down and helps pick your bag up for you

you smile shyly and take it from him “uh, my roommate was supposed to come and pick me up but he’s actually going on a date so he just called to let me know that i had to take the bus home.” you snort and shake your head “i don’t have an umbrella either so facing that-“ you gesture towards the window where the rain is basically shooting quick fire bullets against the glass “is noT going to be very pleasant.”

you hear a rumble of thunder in the distance and you swallow thickly

thunderstorms are noT fun

“how about i drive you home?” jungkook blurts out and you turn to face him

you blink owlishly at him before shaking your head “oh gosh, i can’t- no, i’ll be fine! thank you for the offer, though…”

jungkook purses his lips before suddenly snatching your bag from your grasp “well, i just decided that i was going to drive you home, so…” he hums and throws your bag over his shoulder before turning on his heel and heading out the front door

“wha-“ you squawk before you move to foLLow jungkook “jungkook, you really don’t have to-“

“move your ass, y/l/n!” you hear the ding of the elevator and you walk faSter

you step into the elevator with jungkook and let out a playful huff “you really are something, you know?”

a moment of silence goes by

jungkook turns his head slightly and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smirk

he wasn’t going to say anything but

fuck it

he clears his throat and steps a little closer to you “by the way-“

his fingers brush over yours and you feel a little zap

“you should probably buy me dinner first before grinding up against my crotch like that-“

you let out a groan

jesus CHRIST

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

A visit to Coral Beach

What a fun time at the beach! Coral Beach is such a lovely place - from the clear blue waters and colorful mosaics scattered throughout the boardwalk, it's one of those places ideal for vacationing based on appearance alone. No photoshopping necessary when it comes to taking pictures here!

I'm surprised that I haven't visited the beach sooner since it's about an hour away from the camp. In fact, there's still so many places nearby that I haven't been to yet. The trip was kinda a spur of the moment kind of thing Pancetti, Audie, Snooty, Lyman, and I planned at the last minute. By chance I ran into an old friend who's vacationing there too and now she's coming back with us.

So we spent a couple days at Coral Beach exploring the sights and enjoying the resort and then tomorrow we're heading back to the camp. Of course, I also spent the time catching up with Desi, who's been enjoying the seaside scenery.

Desi Rivera's an aspiring singer-songwriter who hopes to make it big one day. Right now though, she's jumping off the ladder and starting from scratch. It's a risky move, but I think it's a necessary one. Given her talent and ambition, I know that Desi will come out stronger than ever.

I met Desi at summer camp years ago. Even though we only spent one summer together, we kept in touch for a while after that. The summer camp thing was something our parents made us do and to be honest it wasn't really our thing so they didn't push us when we told them that there wasn't going to be a next summer. The experience wasn't terrible - I did make a friend after all - but summer camp and I just didn't click at all. Now that I think about it, it's kinda interesting that as an adult I'm running a camp right now - though this and summer camp are totally different.

Since Desi lived in the town nearby we often ran into each other. As we got older contact became sporadic but we occasionally said hi to each other when our paths crossed. Then as adults we regained contact on social media and have been keeping up with each other since then. Desi often posts covers and original songs, which is how she got her online following. She could've easily made it big if it weren't for certain people.

Desi's journey as a singer-songwriter is sure to become an interesting one. Ever since she could talk, Desi knew she wanted to be a singer. She always had a nice voice, one that became more refined as she got older. Talented songwriter too, with an honest and poetic way with words. And it's a damn shame that her talent has been consistently overshadowed and sidelined for white mediocrity.

Yup, I said it - mediocrity. No disrespect to Meghan Tyler and Too Cool - I mean I can see their commercial appeal, but for the most part, their music is bland and forgettable. Music tastes aside, it is pretty impressive that Desi was in the same circles as people like Meghan and Joe of the Shayne Brothers.

Desi first met the two at a camp for aspiring musicians, the well known Camp Music. She was one of many talented nobodies who wanted a glimpse at stardom. Meghan Tyler is the daughter of pop star Ann Tyler, and it was her who ran the camp, the typical queen bee. I happened to cross paths with Meghan and her friends online (unrelated reasons) and they always gave me a vibe of a high school clique. I interacted with her indirectly a couple times but then actively avoided her when her friends stirred up drama. It's one thing to vagueblog about an ex-friend who screwed you over, it's another to ruin someone's reputation by claiming that they faked their trauma just because you had a petty falling out with them.

Then there's Joe Shayne, best known as the lead singer for the Shayne Brothers. He was amazed by Desi's voice and took an interest in her. The two started off kinda rough with Joe pushing his boundaries and Desi rightfully calling him out on his entitled behavior. The whole thing was kinda like a Cinderella story with Joe trying to figure out who was the singer he overheard while passing by while Desi tried too hard to impress him after realizing who he was. By the end of the summer, they began dating, becoming regulars at Camp Music for the next several years.

Despite what the others were saying, Desi and Joe were going strong for eight years. Desi was associated with the Shayne Brothers, which was a blessing and a curse. As much as she liked Joe and his brothers, she didn't want to be known solely because of her connection to them. They were going to get engaged until last year when Desi broke things off. According to her, things had been kinda rough for a while but they tried - probably a bit too hard, in her words - to stay together. They're still friends but Desi thinks in a year or two they'll drift away, which I think is what she wants.

On one hand it's kinda sad since they've been together for so long. And from what I've heard about Joe, being with Desi helped him a lot as before he met her he was on his way to becoming a short tempered almost has-been. Basically, she made him shape up and consider his future seriously. But aside from their love of music, Desi and Joe were from completely different worlds. In the years since they got together, they've grown into two different people. The two have spoken openly about their breakup and it seems like it's for the best. Sometimes things just don't work out in the end and that's okay.

As for Meghan, Desi always had a complicated relationship with her. Being the fish out of water, Desi tried to impress Meghan, even if it meant dumbing down herself to please Meghan's ego. There was always some sort of competition between them with Desi constantly feeling like she has to prove herself. While Meghan did help Desi out with her connections and fame, Desi never felt she earned her recognition, another reason why she wanted to start from the ground up.

For years Desi was part of Meghan's band, Too Cool. While Desi occasionally had some solos that charted, she and the other members were always overshadowed by Meghan. She considers the whole experience a mixed bag, one that started out exciting but in the end the bad outweighed the good.

A few months ago, not too long after leaving Too Cool, Desi did an insightful interview for a magazine where she spoke honestly about her ups and downs with the band as well as her breakup with Joe. I always felt that she deserved better than Too Cool, especially after reading the interview. From being constantly referred to as "the Mexican one" even though she stated multiple times she's Cuban, to being told to sing slightly off key in order to make Meghan sound better - no wonder she wanted out. It's an eye opening read on the ugly side of the music industry, particularly on how WOC artists are treated.

Following her departure, another member and longtime friend of Meghan, Maria Silva, also left the band for similar reasons. She too had also spoken out about the racism she experienced, having been constantly referred to as "the Chinese one" despite being Filipino. I don't know Maria too well but she comes across as genuine and I wish her well on her solo endeavors.

Right now Desi's taking a break on music, though not entirely. She's been writing songs and making demos but it'll be a while before she releases something. For now Desi wants to celebrate her freedom, starting with a long, well deserved vacation. Then once she's had enough rest and relaxation, she plans to jump back into the music scene with a bang, this time on her own terms with her calling all the shots.

Desi's been teasing me and the campers with what she has in store. In light of the racism she experienced with Too Cool, Desi wants to embrace her Cuban culture more than ever, starting with the music. Mainstream pop radio hits aren't her thing anymore, so she's going for a new sound inspired by her Cuban roots along with her usual pop rock style she's got going on since she began writing songs. She's also considering the idea of doing an album in Spanish, though that'll depend on a lot of factors.

It's nice to see her so excited and passionate about her music - that's one of the things I love about her! Like I said, Desi's got talent and ambition, and I know that she'll successfully make a name for herself without Meghan or Joe's shadows. I mean, the demos I've heard already sound a million times better than pretty much everything Too Cool has done - imagine how the final product will be! Once the album comes out, I'll be one of the first in line to buy and download a copy.

We met up with Desi by chance at the hotel, her room being upstairs. She's been traveling around, crossing off places where she always wanted to visit. So far she's crossed off four places from her list. After Coral Beach she was debating on Hero's Tunnel and Swan Park since they're right next to each other. Since the camp's along the way, I invited her over and hopefully during her time there, she can make up her mind on where to visit first. I know she'll enjoy the camp, especially Saltwater Shores since she's a beach gal.

Coral Beach is such a beautiful place. One of the first things we did when we got there was to pose in front of the fountain and toss a bell in for a wish. Then we checked into the Coral Beach Hotel, where we got a lovely view of the ocean and fountain.

The architecture of the hotel is so pretty, it reminds me of an old village on a tropical island. Along the boardwalk are charming little shops and cafes where we got to enjoy shaved ice and fine handmade souvenirs. I got a set of cute floral teacups, a dot grid notebook with a pretty mosaic cover, a gorgeous seashell necklace, and a painted ukulele.

We went swimming and snorkeling in the ocean, where we got to see the pretty coral the place is known for. Nature can be so fascinating sometimes - the coral really does look like fancy lace! I also collected a bunch of pretty seashells like pearl oysters, which are pretty rare, as well as pink oyster shells and obsidian shells, something I've never seen before. Desi suggested that we go parasailing - her new favorite activity as of recently - so that's what we did and it was a lot of fun! We also went surfing, watched a performance at the theater, shared cocktails during happy hour, and explored the gardens.

Today we went to a mosaic workshop and made some cool decor. Then we went to a ceramics shop where we watched how bowls were made, which was pretty cool. After that we had a late lunch at Sash, where we had poke and butter mochi. Next door was a bookstore where we browsed for a while and then we spent a couple hours at the beach before heading to the hotel for dinner.

Since we aren't leaving until tomorrow afternoon, we had some time to kill so we spent it at the pool, lounging around. Desi says she's looking forward to seeing the camp and meeting up with Daisy Jane. It's so good seeing Desi relaxed and having a great time, especially after what she had to put up with during her time with Too Cool.

It's getting late now and I still have a little bit of packing left to do. The ocean's so pretty at this time of night, the way the light of the stars reflect on the water like sparkles. I can't wait to come back in the near future.

[fvaleraye]

Echoes

Well well well, would you look at that, we got another chapter :> This one is the long awaited return to the gals- Leona, Velda, and Artemis This one is definitely longer than my other chapters, coming to around five pages worth of words. But I’m very happy with how it turned out... and I hope y’all like reading it ;w;

The hour was early, the sun was peeking shyly over the horizon. Pale orange and yellow hues bathed the earth, the colors highlighting the light brown paths among greenery of the wide open plains. It was all very vibrant, like something out of a painting. Beautiful. Not very many people were up early enough to see it, of course, but travelers got to see it all quite often. Though, the sight usually lost its luster after the first few dozen times. Especially when many of said travelers would prefer to not be awake- let alone travelling- at such an early hour. But such were the sacrifices of those who wanted to explore the expansive lands of Magna Terra.

The trip to Crystalbarrow was much the same as the one to Springford. Leona riding on the back of Artemis- not just because there were very few carriage drivers willing to transport a greatwolf from Springford- but because they were all taken. The carriages were all so busy, as they usually are during spring, and they were just too anxious to get going to wait any longer. So, the old fashioned way it was. Just a roadtrip with a girl and her giant wolf. The one difference from the last trip was the extra passenger. While Leona was- quite begrudgingly- awake, Velda was sound asleep behind her, resting her head on her back, arms around her waist. Her presence definitely made the long trip much more bearable than the last. Artemis was beginning to get a bit tired- a rare sight- but she pressed on, because she knew as well as her charges that Crystalbarrow was not far. Not too close, but certainly not far. She had been trotting along for ages… she could manage a bit further. It was just on the edge of the Outlands, bordering the sea.

Just a bit further.

After about an hour or so more of walking, the sleepy archer managed to rouse herself from her slumber, making her consciousness known with a big yawn, startling the tired warrior. She glanced at her from over her shoulder, and the two quietly exchanged a look. A moment later, she was back to resting her head, arms around her a little more tightly now.

“I’m shocked you’re so comfortable resting your head on my metal armor.” Leona mumbled tiredly, idly glancing at the road ahead.

“I’m never not comfortable around you…” Velda replied, her voice just dripping with lovey-dovey tones.

If it was a mystery whether or not a wolf could roll their eyes, Artemis would have solved it just then.

Eventually, as swaying grass and fertile land turned to grey, still earth, the sounds of waves started to echo out from the horizon. The coast was nearing. Their destination was nearing. Finally. The two had started to sit a bit straighter, look a bit more presentable. They weren’t trying to impress anyone, but Leona was going to visit a family friend. She needed to wake up a bit. Hopefully he still lives here...

The town climbed into view soon after, a fair portion the old wooden buildings nestled snugly in a sizable crater in the ground, the rest extending into the horizon. The ocean was in full view, a small dock off in the distance, sails being raised and lowered as sailors were either bringing in hauls or setting out for more. The town was a rather simple one, but not a small one. Still, its humble appearances hid its less humble origins.

After all, the town got its name from producing loads and loads of gems and crystals, whether found in the bountiful sea or mined from its expansive crystalline cave networks. It was the single largest producer of gemstones across the entire continent. But you wouldn’t tell just by looking at it. Well, unless you caught a glimpse of people pushing around wheelbarrows full of the stuff, of which there were a few right now. Just loading them onto carriages or into buildings. For now, though, the only thing on the girls minds was getting to the local inn- The Diamond in the Rough. A rather… on the nose name, but it fit, what with the town itself being in the middle of one of the more hostile environments on Magna Terra. 

Not the most hostile, but still. 

As usual, Artemis sat down outside while Leona went in to talk with the innkeeper for a room. Though this time she had the company of her lovely girlfriend Velda, who, unlike her, had actually got a decent amount of sleep the prior night. The two stepped up to the counter, and the kindly old lady there gave them a warm smile.

“Hello there.” She said, sounding a bit tired, but still welcoming. “Welcome to the Diamond in the Rough. Would you like a room?” The practiced ease in her voice was pretty comforting, especially compared to the last inn.

Leona just nodded, pulling up a barstool for a second. “Yeah, we’d like a room…” She replied, rooting around in her pockets for her money. “Us two, and a greatwolf, Artemis, if that’s okay.”

The woman leaned to her side to peek past her guest and out the window. Sure enough, there was a greatwolf out there. Big. But not the biggest she had ever seen. She let out a tired sigh. “Can you wait another half hour or so before letting your pooch in?” She asked, fidgeting a bit. “We’re sort of at capacity for the big fellas at the moment, but a few are about to leave…”

“Oh-! Of course!” After a moment, she produced a small pouch of silver and gold coins from her pocket. “How much? For the room, I mean.”

“Thirty-five silver a night.”

She breathed a sigh of relief at the quite frankly reasonable price. She was expecting to have to pick up odd jobs to make ends meet at this point. But no… her current savings should be just fine for now, thank the gods. She set a handful of silver coins onto the counter, and very quickly stepped back outside.

“Hey Arte…” She mumbled, giving the wolf a few pats on the head. “You’re gonna have to chill out here for an hour or so, but you can come right in afterwards, okay?” The wolf gave a tired little nod, clearly just thankful she’s getting any rest at all. “Okay, good… love ya, big gal. I’ll tell Velda to grab you when you can come in, I just… need a bed…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t long before Artemis could come into the building, and it wasn’t much longer after that before the duo fell soundly asleep, leaving Velda to her own devices. As much as she wanted to stay in the room and go to bed with her lovely girlfriend, she just… wasn’t tired. Not that that usually stopped her, but… she had a few things she wanted to do. Look around, mostly. This wasn’t a small town. While it wasn’t near the size of the cities, it was still one of the biggest towns she’d ever been in. There was a fair amount of ground to cover. And a lot of people to talk to. She had to start sometime, and there was no time like the present. Carefully tip-toeing out of the room, she stepped into the inn’s lobby. It was a bit empty, which was fair. It was still early. Most sane people were asleep. She gave the little old lady at the counter a wave as she wandered out into the streets of the Crystalbarrow.

It was a nice enough town, it generally had that rough, stocky look that most coastal towns had. All the buildings were of wooden make, with stone foundations lifting them a good seven or so feet off the ground for when the tides came in. A few of the older buildings here and there had barnacles growing from the sides, while others had plenty of scrape marks on the wood from barnacle removal. Everything had a vibe to it that could only be described as vaguely damp, salted, and well-worn, but still lovingly upkept; like a ship that had seen its fair share of the tides- and had its fair share of repairs as a result. It was surprisingly homey, even among the dreary and slightly depressing gray earth of the Outlands. Velda took a breath, the salty sea air making her pull a face, and started to wander the streets.

Most of the people out at this hour were workers. The workers in question were miners about to go to the mines, though there were a few idle early birds on the streets as well. Everyone was dressed in what you would expect, cotton shirts, pants, knee-high mud-covered boots… nothing really out of the ordinary.

At least, until a… figure, approached her.

They stepped up to her from the side, just barely catching a glimpse of them from her peripheral vision before turning to face them. They were tall, just under seven feet. An old, slightly rusted iron breastplate covered their chest, brown robes flowing from underneath it. It parted in the middle, showing the leather armor that covered their lower half. Their face was concealed beneath a hood, the top of which held a strange crown, and an ornate, but featureless, gold encrusted mask. Gaunt hands, covered in bronze gauntlets ending in sharpened claws, emerged from long brown sleeves, and in them a simple plate, which they held out to the woman.

After the shock of their appearance abated, she let out a sigh. They were a church missionary, and they were asking for a tithe. Of course. She shoved a hand into a pocket, and dropped a few pieces of silver into the plate. The missionary gave a slight bow, and left wordlessly. Her gaze followed them for a time, and she shivered. Gods damned were some of the people the church employed unnerving sometimes. There were always at least a few of the silent missionaries in towns this far out, to help keep the townspeople on the “right path” and away from religions that the church would consider unsavory. Which was most any religion that wasn’t theirs.

Kind of dick-ish, when you thought about it, but considering that most other religions nowadays were apocalypse cults, it was hard to blame them. Hard. Not impossible. They do overstep their bounds occasionally.

She continued to wander for a bit, looking for someone who wasn’t busy or currently under an oath of silence. Her search eventually led her to the docks. Of course the docks were busy, but there were a few workers who were just resting, evidently not having much to do. She nervously stepped up to the least intimidating one, a tired looking young man, probably barely over eighteen. His face seemed to lighten up at her approach, and he started standing a bit straighter. He gave a grin, showing off a few missing teeth.

“H-hello there.” She greeted, fidgeting with her stowed bow.

“Hey there, ma’am!” He greeted right back, running a calloused hand through his messy, damp hair. “What can ah do for ya?”

She was a bit caught off guard by the youth’s enthusiasm, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “Uh… d-do you know anything about the- uh- caves. A-around here?”

His smile dropped for a second, his expression shifting to a more confused one. “Uh… well, ah mean, ah got an idea…” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Unc’s a miner, so’re my cousins. Ah know the names at least, if tha’s helpful.”

She gave a small sigh. Okay, that’s better than nothing. “Do you know where a cave called… uh, called Echo Cavern is?”

He flinched a bit at the name. “E-Echo Cavern, ma’am?” He parroted, tilting his head. “Y-yer probably not from around here, otherwise ya’d know that nobody- ain’t nobody- allowed in there.”

“Please. I really need to find it. It’s the whole reason I c-came out here.”

The boy cringed, and took a sharp inhale, glancing around at the other workers. He grimaced as he turned back to her, eyes still darting around. “Ya sure ‘bout this…?” He asked, his tone making it empathetically clear that he was already sure he was going to regret this.

“... y-yes.”

“Ya don’t sound very sure, ma’am.”

“Th-that’s just how I sound.”

“... I’ll take yer word for it.” He leaned a bit closer. “It’s on the north-east side, further inland. You’ll know it when ya see it, ‘s got lotsa crystals around it. And bugs.”

She blinked at the last bit. “B-bugs?”

“Ye, bugs. Bigguns, too.”

“Well… th-thanks.”

She stepped away from the dock, not wanting to sour the poor lads mood any more than she already had. Hopefully he wouldn’t get in any trouble. He seemed like a nice kid. From there, she just idly paced through the town for a bit. She should probably wait for Leona and Artemis to wake up, so they can all go together.

… but also, she really wanted to get to the cave. She really, really wanted to get to the cave. It was the only lead she had right now. And she really wanted to follow it. But it was probably dangerous- what wasn’t nowadays- and a bow wasn’t exactly the go-to weapon for spelunking in… bug-caves. Eugh. The thought of it made her skin crawl. She really didn’t like bugs. Bugs just made her… viscerally uncomfortable. Especially big ones. But she’s faced scarier… probably…

… I’ll just take a peek, and then go back and wait for Leona and Arte.

The Outlands were dreadfully oppressing, especially when walking on foot. She didn’t quite imagine the cave being this far out from the kid’s description. But who knows, maybe she had already passed it. The town was already getting kind of far away… and she really didn’t want to lose where it was. The Outlands were very same-y- gray rock and dirt as far as the eye can see. At least Crystalbarrow was a coast town, so she can just follow the coast and get there eventually. That is, if she hadn’t lost where the coast was already. Her sense of direction definitely could have been better... but it also could have been worse. She could figure out a way back, she could… she just had to push the anxiety down for the time being. If she didn’t find the cave within the next ten or so minutes, she was heading back.

Of course, it only took about two more minutes of looking to find it.

When the lad said that she would know it when she saw it, he wasn’t joking. It was… a big cave. Even from a distance, it was intimidating. An enormous, yawning maw of an opening, lined with crystals, giving the impression of the giant, toothy mouth of a hungry monster. It wasn’t exactly welcoming. But there were no bugs… at least, not visible ones. Not yet. Slowly, carefully, she stepped closer. The closer she stepped… the louder… something became. It wasn’t clear what it was. It was… deep. Bassy. Cacophonous. Like a choir of some sort. But it definitely wasn’t a choir. Not out here. That became more obvious the closer she came.

She peeked into the vast opening, the glittering crystals providing light a far distance down… but that just made it even more obvious how it just kept going. There was no end in sight to the tunnel, and she could swear it branched off at several points. The sight made her stomach drop. No. No way, no way was she going in there without Leona and Artemis. The noise was near unbearable this close… and it still wasn’t any more distinct. Just. Gibbering and jabbering, echoing out of the cave. She decided now was probably a good time to just turn around and head back. No way. Nuh-uh. She could not get back to town fast enough.

In fact, Velda was in such a hurry, she tripped right over something and fell flat on her face, a cry and ‘oof’ pushed from her.

She picked herself up off the ground, a hand reaching up to her eye. Yeah, that was definitely going to be a black eye for her troubles. And her arrows spilled all over the ground. Fuck off. She brushed the dirt and dust off her clothes, and started to pick up the arrows. At least she didn’t accidentally stab herself on any of them. That was nice.

The only thing that broke her bit of misery was the little chirping noise she heard behind her.

It was a little hard to hear over the cave, but it was… different. Enough to notice. She turned around, arrows clutched in shaky hands, and didn’t see anything at first… left, right… nothing. Then she turned down, and she saw it.

It was a bug. A big one, about the size of a small dog. But it was… different. She jumped back at first glance, but as she looked closer, she was almost immediately disarmed. It was… very round. Almost spherical. Its back was covered in a shining, sparkling, deep purple carapace. A small horn protruded from its forehead, sharp, but short. It had rounded legs, and what seemed to be a pair of small arms, ending in three little fingers. Its stomach, strangely, was not covered in a similar carapace, rather it was a bright, near-pristine white coat of fur, coating its belly, neck, and the lower half of its face. It was knocked on its back, chirping and squealing, struggling to right itself. The sight was a little sad. Her heart getting the better of her, she inched closer to the little creature, and gingerly picked it up. It seemed to panic very briefly, but seemed to take to it after a moment. She set it back down on its legs, and it looked up to her, making a little chirping sound.

“Uh… y-you’re welcome…?” She said, hesitantly giving it a little pat on the head. It trilled in response. “... you uh. Y-you have a good day, I guess.” She added, before turning on her heels and hoofing it back to town.

While she didn’t notice it immediately, the little creature started to follow her after a moment. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was attachment. Gratefulness. Who knew. But she had a little tagalong, whether she knew it or not.

[birdwonder]

Sorry, I’m impulsive. Just saw the head cannons for the reader who likes to paint for Josuke and they introduce them to Rohan. Could I please get a scenario for that. I just thought it’d be hilarious, and hopefully Josuke and/or the reader don’t die.

|| oho ! i love it when my previous posts spur more requests, especially when i love requests to no end ! also ur impulse is fantastic ! 

request/fic based off 

https://birdwonder.tumblr.com/post/189601011865/headcanon-the-joestars-on-how-they-would-react-to

JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA | ARTIST

“C’mon, c’mon, babe! You gotta meet him,” your boyfriend, Josuke, urged on, ushering you towards a large and expensive looking house, putting your own home and all your possessions combined to shame in terms of price.

Cringing slightly, you weren’t exactly prepared to meet anyone new, especially under these circumstances. See, Josuke was a supportive boyfriend, and even best friend if you had to gloat, so when he discovered your talent in art, he instantly knew that he wanted to encourage you and show off your skills to world.

Much to your disgruntlement, this meant that he wanted you to meet a ‘friend’ of his, one that he had never mentioned before, which was bizarre seeing as Josuke was an open book and spoke a lot about his times with Okuyasu, Koichi and even Jotaro. You had to wonder why this friend of his was never mentioned before... Perhaps a conversation just never led up to it?

“Josuke, I love you but I don’t think this is necessary,” you calmly told him, soft eyes glancing at him as he momentarily stuttered over your small declaration and reminder of love. For the sake of his ego and ‘cool guy’ persona, he played it off by coughing and ran a hand over his pompadour, chuckling.

“Love you too baby, but you gotta trust me. This would make me super happy.” Josuke then wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as he gave you a cute and desperate look, faking a pout alongside it, “don’t you want to see me happy?”

You frowned at that. Of course you did! It was just that you had never met this person before, and here you were with your sketchbook involuntarily in Josuke’s free hand, about to show off your art that you were so self conscious about despite receiving many compliments for it.

The taller male rested his cheek on the top of your head momentarily. “Plus, if you do this for me, I’ll buy you your favourite snack from the store!” Ah, that drove the bargain in. 

You gave a nod that meant ‘deal’ and Josuke gave one back, removing both his arm and cheek from being in contact from you so that he could approach the door of the grand house and knock on it three times.

Gulping, you hadn’t expected the door to open so soon to reveal a fairly tall and slim figure, one that had a curious headband on and noticeable green hair brushed to the side. His gaze on you was hard and emotionless, probably because you were a total stranger, yet once he caught glimpse of Josuke, he started to look annoyed.

“What do you want?” The man questioned, opening his door from being somewhat ajar to widening it completely so that he was fully revealed. What an odd fashion sense...

Josuke, with a much brighter grin than you usually saw him wear, waved a hand before placing it on your shoulder, greeting the stranger with so much fever you could have been fooled the two of them were closer than brothers, if not for the man’s strangely angry aura, “Rohan sensei! We were just in the neighbourhood and I was thinking that it was about time you met my girlfriend, [F/N]!”

Rohan, at least you assume that was his name, suddenly raised his brows in surprise and sharply turned to look down at you, giving you a once over examine before smiling in peculiar, mischievous way. “I see, well a pleasure to meet you, Miss [F/N], what a shame it took us so long to be introduced.”

“Oh, hello to you too Mr Rohan! It’s nice to meet you too,” you responded in a structured manner, not knowing what to say outside of basic niceties. 

Luckily, Josuke saved you in the most painful way by flipping open your sketchbook, a smug look on his face. “She’s an artist like you, y’know? But her art is ten times better, I mean can you do this?” He boasted on your behalf, causing you to gasp with embarrassment.

“Josuke, you can’t just say that-!”

The older artist raised a brow at your work. Bending down, he analysed the page with a hand on his chin and even lifted it the inspect another one or too. You could only cover your face to hide yourself from the shame as he did so, afraid of any insults that may come your way.

“See, aren’t they the best? Like a real pro-” Josuke was then cut off by Rohan straightening himself again and talking over the teen, looking down at you with a much softer smile than he had ever seen. 

“Yes, they are fantastic indeed!” The praise had you peeking from in-between your fingers and up at the green haired male, who took both of your hands into his own, catching you off guard. “If I wasn’t an independent artist, I would have you work for me as an editor or something of the sort. We could spend hours together over our passions!” 

This made Josuke splutter and reel back, the sketch book he once gripped with care now almost slipping out of his grasp. Just what the hell was happening? Was Rohan Kishibe actually being nice, to his girlfriend of all people?

What made things worse was that your naïvity made it so you didn’t notice the advancements that your boyfriend saw as flirting, so you only giggled and smiled politely with gratefulness within you.

“You’re so sweet Rohan, sir! I would love to see your art at some point,” you beamed, “if that’s alright with you.”

In reply, Rohan continued to give you a warm smile and brought your hands closer to his chest, making you take a step forward towards him; Josuke almost choking at the sight, a wonder that he wasn’t only seeing red. “Of course, cher. Why don’t you come by one day and we can show each other our works properly, one on one?”

The usually out going and laidback stand user was going crazy. You might not have been able to see it, but Rohan every now and then would side glance towards him with such a malevolent glint in his eyes and a cocky upturn of the mouth that he wanted to use Crazy Diamond to send him the damn moon. Or the hospital. 

The man was even using some weird french words! Since when was such an anti-social guy so smooth? Josuke was even starting to think that his usual terms of endearment for you were paling in comparison. Did you even like being called ‘baby’ or ‘his girl?’ It was probably way too cheesy and not at all sophisticated for a great gal like you...

‘Damn it, you know that isn’t true! She loves those names, or else she wouldn’t get so worked up over them!’ Josuke yelled at himself mentally, shaking his head side to side furiously before slapping his cheeks with the palm of his hands, trying to clear his mind. Luckily, though also sadly, his silent motivation went unnoticed by the chattering artists.

“This was lovely, Rohan sensei, but I think it’d be best if Josuke and I left now, we’ve already taken so much of your time.” Your statement made your boyfriend quickly shake his head in agreement, so fast that a few strands of hair probably came loose from his excessively combed pompadour. 

The manga artist continued to glance over at his mortal enemy, as he proclaimed dramatically in his head, with a horribly amused look and spoke to you with a sickening sweet tone, “oh it’s no matter, it led me to meet such a lovely young lady. Please, visit again some time, dear.”

Your hands were still gently held in his and they were slowly being raised to his lips, Rohan’s head bobbing down to plant a kiss upon your knuckles. You were none the wiser to the gesture you were about to receive, however time seemed to move in a painfully slow way for Josuke. Oh heeeell no.

Before Rohan’s lips could even brush your hands, the said man was shoved to the side harshly by Josuke nudging him away in a seemingly casual manner, your sketchbook suddenly handed to you so that you could be picked dup bridal style. 

“[F/N] is right, we’ve overstayed our welcome! Thanks Rohan sensei, you were  a real one,” Josuke loudly proclaimed, sending a glare to the fallen man who was rubbing his back and returning the salty expression back, “if you don’t mind, we’re going to go on a date now, so hope you don’t feel too lonely over here.”

While you were covering your face with your sketchbook, due to the embarrassment of being held like a newly wed wife in public, the two men continued to give each other menacing looks that had clear messages such as, ‘don’t mess with me’ or ‘she’s mine, back off.’

“Don’t mention it...” Rohan sourly mumbled, Josuke now walking away from the porch and the house.

Josuke, still brimming with some anger, bit the inside of his cheek to help calm himself down, which was a challenge not even a stand could help him. The hell was Rohan’s problem? He knew that guy was too sketchy for his own good, pun not intended.

“Sweetie,” you piped up from his arms, sketchbook now hugged to your chest and doe-like eyes looking up, “if you were jealous, you know that nothing like me and Rohan would ever happen, right?”

Your assurance was surprising. Had you noticed your senior’s ploy to infuriate Josuke all along? You clever thing. With your words and gentle gaze, the anger he felt was quickly sweeping away with the sigh he blew out. 

“I love you Josuke, and only you!” 

Aaah, you were too cute! The sudden declaration made his eyes widen slightly, seeing as you were both in public and affectionate things seemed to be too bold for you in front of others, granted though the streets were moderately empty. 

“Heh, I love you too babe, sorry about all of that,” he apologised, dipping down slightly to place a peck on your head head. It seemed that was a little too much still, so you pushed his head away with a squeak, making him chuckle.

“Ok, ok! Now put me down, this is too much.” As per your request, you were set down carefully, thankful that you weren’t in such a helpless position anymore. That didn’t stop Josuke from wrapping his arm around your shoulders  though. 

With you pulled close to his side, Josuke was calm once more and he could easily tell Rohan to ‘suck it’ as he knew that no matter what, you’d be his girl and only his, and that he’d spoil and praise you to no end because that’s what you deserved. 

The two of you exchanged a smile, laughing between yourselves at nothing. “You know, I think you mentioned a date back there. I know it was just a excuse but if you want maybe we could...” You trailed off, hoping that your boyfriend would take the obvious hint.

Of course, he did, and he had no hesitation in fulfilling your wish.

“Say no more, how does ice cream and cake sound?”

“Just perfect,” you confirmed, sketchbook in one hand and Josuke’s now in another. 

[johnny-simpson]

Anyone Else but Me (Johnny Simpson x reader fic)

Johnny Simpson was ethereal, an angel on earth. He had a habit of just sitting and letting all the gals flock to him, and that was even before the Donny Nova Band, before he shipped off the fight for Uncle Sam and the red, white, and blue. Before his jeep flipped three times over. Before he could barely remember his name. Before you could even remember what it was like to have your heart broken. Before your world came out from under you. 

You had known Johnny Simpson since middle school, you were paired up in english class by Ms. Francis to discuss the living situation of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her family, and like that, you two had become inseparable. You knew everything there was to know about him, and he knew all the bits and pieces that made up you. The whole school, including the faculty, and even both sets of parents thought you two would get hitched. And, they were right, mostly. 

A little while, in the odd space between the end of high school and the start of college, Johnny had worked up the nerve to finally make a pass at you.  Which you reciprocated.  You started dating soon after, the happiest year of your life. It was filled with moving into an apartment, going to swing clubs, dancing in your kitchen to Glenn Miller records, where now you can’t bear to live, put on the record, or listen to “Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree.” You can’t bear to listen to any of those, knowing you can’t have your lover 

When you got a telegram saying that Johnny had a semblance of recollection of his crash but nothing else, you thought your heart was going into cardiac arrest. You knew the basics and that was enough for you to cry whenever you think of it. The thought of Johnny being scared as his jeep is flipping uncontrollably makes you want to scream. After you got the telegram, you had decided to get out of his life, not making contact with him. All you knew was that when he got home, he didn’t know his own family, his home, or his, well you and his’ apartment.When you got word that he was coming home, you quickly packed your belongings, adamant that he didn’t need you in his life. 

You now live by yourself in a small house in the same area as your old apartment. The amount of times you’ve debated going to the apartment, using your key to get in, and telling Johnny the whole story. Oh, how swell would it be to be held by Johnny once again or dancing to records in the living room, to be able to fall asleep with his arms around you, to be able to laugh about nothing. 

Instead, you live in a one bedroom house, alone. You no longer fall asleep to someone else’s breathing, but to the wind blowing outside the window. You now do mundane chores around the house in silence, fearing the music on the radio could render you inconsolable.

 Ever since you heard through the grapevine that Johnny was a drummer in a swing band, you tried to make it to every gig. Asking around if you didn't know where they were playing, desperately most of the time, hoping to see glimpses of your old lover. That’s how you became acquainted with Jo and Oliver, owners of two separate clubs. They knew of your past love with Johnny and of your heartbreak, showing their sympathy

You never really did anything at the clubs. Never really dancing with anyone, mostly just sitting at a table sipping daiquiris. Sometimes accepting the drinks of men passing by looking for a shot with you. It never went any farther than small talk. You wouldn't let it. No one could ever replace Johnny.

“Thank you,” Donny said one night after finishing “You Deserve It,” a winning song, “We are the Donny Nova Band.”

The band got off stage, packing up their instruments, and as the club started to file out through the doors, you looked down at your drink, your hand gently rocking your glass to swirl the contents. You were so consumed in your drink you didn't hear someone walk up to you.

“I have seen you at every gig but never dancing or sitting with anyone, why's that,”  a voice asked that made you jump, almost spilling your almost-empty drink. You looked up to see the saxophone player, Jimmy, you think his name is, staring at you, waiting for a response

You shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant. “Must be a coincidence, I guess.”

He let out a small but sort of genuine chuckle. “That’s what I thought the first three times, but you are always at every gig of ours without fail. Now, that leads into the other question which you've not answered. Why aren't you with a group or someone else. “ he asked, sitting down in the chair across from yours.

You looked away from his intense stare and found your gaze fixated on Johnny. Johnny looked like he was having a casual conversation with Donny and twirling his drumstick. Jimmy caught your gaze and let out a sigh.

“If you come to every gig just to catch the attention of Donny, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're barking up the wrong tree. He has his eyes on someone else, I'm afraid,’ he said somewhat softly.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh. “No, no, no. I'm not worried about that. It’s Johnny i come to see every gig,” you said, 

“Ah, so you're a fan of Johnny’s,” he said with a sly smile. “I'm more than that,” you trailed off and before you knew it you were sharing your history with Johnny to his bandmate. “He doesn't remember me, but I know that if I come to every gig, I get to be with him, even if for only a bit.”

Jimmy gave you a look of apology mixed with understanding. “I'm not trying to sugarcoat or bullshit my way through trying to comfort you or say that it must be hard. Because, I know it is. I know what it’s like to lose your love. But you have another chance to win Johnny back, it's not all lost.”

And for the second time that night, a voice next to  you spoke, but it was different, because this time you knew the voice. You stilled,  your body frozen in a shock of some sort. It had been almost two years since he had even been physically next to you. Your heart was racing, you were sure you could feel your hands shaking and becoming clammy. Is this actually happening?

“Did you say my name, Jim,’ asked the former love of your life. His hat was perfectly on his head and once again, he's fiddling with his drumstick. Jimmy nodded and gestured to you. 

“My friend,” he paused realizing, he never asked for your name, and you realized that as well so you spoke up.

“(y/n). (y/n) (l/n),” you said, a small part of you hoping that the reiteration of your name will jolt his mind back to remembering you. It didn't, to your utmost disappointment, but you didn’t let it show. It was a silly thing to wish for, honestly.

“Yes, my friend, (Y/n), over here was admiring your drumming ability,” Jimmy said. Johnny’s face lit up at the compliment and turned to look at you. You shifted your body to face him as well, and once you made eye contact, you felt at peace, butterflies, and grief all at once. It was the most overwhelmed you have felt, save for when you had gotten word the latter had his jeep flipped three times. 

“Well, thank you,” his eyes shone with excitement and his cheeks were a slight pink, whether it was from the adrenaline of playing live or from your compliment was anyone’s guess. He held out his hand, which you took, and he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. In spite of yourself, you smiled and blushed profusely. Your fingers were buzzing after the contact and couldn't bring yourself to bring your hand back. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss (Y/n,)” he said gently, “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded at his proclaimed gratitude. looked him in the eyes, and the overwhelming feeling of love and loss was back for the second time that night. You never wanted to leave the feeling if it meant you could stare at him forever. You could feel yourself falling in love all over again and before you could make any mistakes or profess your love, Jimmy cleared his throat, snapping you out of the trance.

“I’m heading out, (y/n), want me to take you home,” he asked, knowing well enough that he had to get you out of the club immediately before you broke down with grief of what used to be. You nodded and pulled your hand out of Johnny’s calloused hand, immediately missing the comfort and warmth of your lost lover’s hand.

“It was nice meeting you, Johnny,” you brought yourself to speak, struggling to get the words out. He tipped his hat and mentioned that he couldn’t wait to see you again with a wide grin that was brighter than the lights on a movie set.

Jimmy took your arm in his own, linking them in a hurry. “Alright, I will see you all on Tuesday,” he spoke loudly, talking to the band and Julia. You gave them all a slight wave and with that, you and Jimmy headed out of the building, leaving Johnny behind with the other members.

---------------

and thats a wrap for chapter one!!!

[jubilantwriter]

Jaspvid Week 2020: Day 2 - Reunion

IT’S STILL MONDAY SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD

(AO3)   @jaspvid-week

Not So Dumb for Investing in Door Stoppers, Now Am I?

Summary:  Even as the world cycles over and over again, he’ll always find him.  And one day, no matter what the world throws at David, he’ll make sure that they’ll finally be happy together.

WARNINGS:  Character death(s), depictions of violence

Word Count: 6518

The first time he met him, he didn't really know what to expect.  Blue eyes.  Brown locks.  And a bright smile.

The door closed behind him, and he thought that this was it.

This was where he was meant to be.

But the door didn't lock.

And Jasper didn't stay.

And when he looked away for just a second.

Jasper was gone.

\\\\

It's red.

Everything is red.

His hands, his chest, his face.  There's red everywhere, and David can't press down hard enough on the wound to get it to stop being everywhere.

"Davey," Jasper grunts out, "it's okay."

"It's not!"  The bandanna that was wrapped around his neck seconds before is now stained with the red that coats his hands as he sobs.  "Just- just hold on!  Maybe- maybe there's a doctor in the town nearby or-"

"Don't think I'll last that long, partner."  Jasper coughs, and red dribbles from the corner of his lips as he tries to smile.  But it's weak, just like the rest of him as he squeezes David's hands.  "Do me a favor, Davey."

"Don't," he gasps, tears streaming down his face, "you promised!  You promised it'd just be us two out in the frontier, whether it be workin' together herdin' the cattle or just sleepin' under the stars!  It'd always be us two, stickin' together through thick n' thin!"

"Sorry."  Jasper smiles through his tears, and David knows him well enough to see the bits of fear that peek out from the corner of his eyes.  "Sorry."

"No- shhhh."  He removes his hands from Jasper's bleeding chest and cups his partner's face instead, trying to keep that light in his eyes just a bit longer.  "I'm sorry, I shoulda realized they were followin' us, I shoulda been more careful, I didn't-"

"'nough of that.  Ain't your fault."  Jasper's voice is growing quieter, and David pulls him closer to his chest, closer to him.  He needs to listen.  He has to listen.  "Just- promise me, okay?"

"Jasp-"

"Shhh, promise me."  Jasper's hand comes up to cup David's cheek, stroking it tenderly as he stares into David's eyes as if the stars were hidden there instead of the night sky.  "Promise me you'll find another."

"I can't-!"

"Shh, don't hold yourself just to me.  You're too good for just lil ol' me."  

"I can't- I don't think I can-"

"You will.  I'm sure of it.  You'll find another."

"But I love you!"  He curls over Jasper and desperately clings to the damp cotton shirt sticking to Jasper's chest.  "We waited so long, I-!"

"Davey, I..."  Jasper coughs again, rougher, harder, before he slumps against David with a strangled gasp.  "I love you too, I love you.  So don't- don't..."

Jasper's hand falls from his cheek, but he catches it in a swift movement.

"Don't- don't what?"  

And he clings to that hand.  That hand that would pull him up from the ground.  That hand that would brush the dirt from his cheek and pat his shoulder for a job well done.  That hand that showed him how to ride a horse and round up cattle.

That hand that would stroke his hair at night, when it was just them two together beneath the stars, and the only witnesses to their quiet, secret kisses were the understanding brown eyes of the cattle they kept watch over.

"Jasper," he whimpers softly, "don't what?"

And that hand.  That hand that would radiate warmth and comfort and belonging.  He clings to it, brings it to his lips and breathes on it as his tears obscure the sight of his partner.

"You're- you're so cold now, hold on, I've.  I've got you, alright?  I'll warm you up."  He pulls Jasper impossibly close, buries his face against his shoulder and sobs, cradling his lover in the cold, night air as the stars become the only witnesses to a loss he's not ready to fathom.

"I've got you.  I've got you.  I've got you forever, okay?  I'll come for you.  No matter what."

No matter what.

\\\\

Doors open.

And they close.

When they open, he catches a glimpse of a familiar back.  Broad-shouldered.  Brown locks.  A smile tossed lazily over his shoulder.

And when David reaches out to grab him, the door closes.

It's nothing like a game.  Nor is it a chase.  David merely follows a trail, desperately, after the one he loves.

Over and over again.

Sometimes, he gets lucky, and his foot catches the door.

But when he gets through.  When he tries to take hold of that familiar hand and sees wide, blue eyes catch sight of him.

He hears the door close again.

And visions pass him.

Of eyes meeting.

Fingers touching.

Nearly grasping.

But never quite holding.

It starts as a chance meeting.

"My name is Jasper, and yours?"

"...David."

"It's nice to meet you.  I hope we get along."

"Of course!"

A desperate feeling takes hold of him, and he nearly pulls this complete stranger in for a hug.

But that's strange, isn't it?

"We'll be working together from now on.  I hope I won't be much trouble."

"Nonsense!"

Together, they work in construction, building houses for the local townsfolk as they wipe sweat from their brows and groan with strain on their muscles.

Days pass like this, but David always finds himself looking forward to the end of the day, where he and Jasper can visit the pub for a bit before parting ways for the night.

It begins like it always should.

A shared laugh.

The clink of glasses as they drink away the day's labors.

And a secret shared between glances that only they two understand.

But one night, something changes.

The only warning he gets is a scream before-

A gunshot.

And he's shoved to the floor.

By the time he gets his bearings, Jasper is bleeding out on the floor with a few other unlucky patrons.

He cradles the man in his arms as deja vu strikes him, and he sobs as people scream for doctors.

Powerless.  He's absolutely powerless.

Sometimes a fleeting glance.

A brunette catches his eye as he orders a coffee, exhausted, tired, no doubt from the local college.  David smiles, as he's ought to do with the patrons that come by the shop.  The man smiles back, and David realizes with a start that the man is handsome.  Stunning.  And that his smile melts away the tension David holds in his shoulders.

And he finds himself starting conversation, something he never does willingly.

"What are you studying?"  He asks, already getting started with a brew for the brunette.

"Oh, I haven't actually..."  The man sheepishly combs his fingers through his hair as he laughs.  "I haven't figured exactly what I want to focus on."

"Oh dear, what year are you on?"

"This would be my second year."  The man shrugs and flashes an easy smile.  "But I'm sure I'll figure it out somehow."

"I hope so!"  He pours out the man's coffee and offers it to him.  Their fingers brush together lightly, and David jerks his hand away, feigning the pull as a touch from the hot mug.  The brunette watches him curiously before taking the drink with a nod.

David can't help but watch as the brunette stays, getting a refill or two of coffee as he stares out the shop's windows.  After a few hours, he's one of the few patrons left that sit idly by, the others either reading books or looking over notes.

And yet, this man does nothing but stare out the window and drink his coffee.

When another hour ends, he sighs and brings the mug up to the counter.  David already has another pot ready and waiting.

"Another cup?"

"Oh, no," he chuckles, but it's weaker than David would like it to be.  "I should be going, actually."

His heart drops.

"Already?"

A chuckle, more genuine, this time.

"Well, if I had any more coffee, I'm sure I'd have a heart attack."

"Oh, no I wouldn't want that!"

"I'm sure you wouldn't."  The man's eyes soften as their fingers brush together on the counter.  This time, he doesn't pull back.  "Thank you for the lovely coffee."

"It was my pleasure."  He smiles, an urge to interlock their fingers together biting at his core.  "Feel free to come back again!"

"Ah... I'd like to."

Oh.

"Just visiting the campus then?"

"A friend, actually."  The man pulls his hand away.  "I should go meet him, actually."

"Of course!  It was nice meeting you, I hope the rest of your visit goes well."

"...Thanks."

He watches the man's retreating figure leave the shop, and an optimistic bitterness wells up inside him.

It could have been worse.

It could have been a whole lot worse.

Or a brush between paths.

"Oh my gosh- Oakley!  I'm so sorry!"  He pulls his husky off the man she bowled over, his arm covering his face as she tries to slobber all over him.  "Oakley!  Heel!"

"It's okay!"  The man laughs as he gently pushes her face away to stand up.  He dusts himself off and gives David a bright smile.  David nearly forgets to breathe, a feeling of warmth blooming in his chest as he studies eyes so blue he'd dare call them familiar.  "She's just a little excited - aren't you, girl?"

Oakley barks excitedly as her tail wags.

"May I pet her?"

"Oh, um, of course!"  The man taps his chest, this time fully prepared for the entire weight of her as she licks all over his face, laughing as he pets her.  

"What a good girl you are!"

David should absolutely be scolding Oakley for jumping on a stranger like that.  But the two of them were clearly having so much fun... and they looked awfully cute together... and- ugh, no!  That's still naughty behavior!  He'll just have to... scold her when they get back.

"Alright, that's enough good girl."  He gives her one final pet and gently lets her down onto the ground.  "Thanks for letting me pet her.  She's a sweet gal."

"She is, when she's not jumping onto people she doesn't know."  David gives her a stern look, and Oakley merely stares back with an all-too-pleased snort.  

"Well then, I should let you two continue your walk."  The man bends down to pick up his hat, fixing it atop his head and giving David a polite nod as he continues on his way.  Oakley pulls at her leash, whining and wanting to chase after the stranger as he walks away.

For a moment, David contemplates letting her run towards the man.  It'd give him an excuse to talk to him some more, maybe excuse the poor behavior of his rambunctious dog, and-

Oakley's bark draws him out of his thoughts, and when he looks back to where the man once was, he finds that he's already disappeared.  She whines and tugs harder at her leash, looking at David before barking at the spot where the man once was.

"...Come on, Oakley, we shouldn't bother the good man."

She whines again and tries to fight against David's stubborn movements.  But he doesn't relent, and the husky trudges along with grumpy whines and howls as they continue their walk.

And for some reason, he finds himself just as disappointed in himself as she is.

If not, more so.

But nothing ever changes.  Jasper leaves, either by force or because David lets him go.

And David lets him go plenty of times.

Because if he lets him go, Jasper's less likely to be covered in blood, right?  He'll live longer, be happier, experience life to its fullest.

...But David is selfish.

So horribly selfish.

He sits with his back to a door and bangs his head against it.  He's tired.

So, very tired.

"...Davey."  A voice so familiar calls out to him from the other side.  "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know."  He bangs his head again, trying to erase those memories of Jasper dying in his arms, Jasper dying in the streets, Jasper strangled or Jasper bloodied or Jasper turning his back and leaving- "I just want to see you again, I guess."

"You see me every time now."  A pause.  "And you're hurt every time."

"Aren't you hurt?"  He laughs bitterly, running a hand down his face.  "God, you get hurt the most, I know you do."

"Davey, maybe you should call it quits."  They've long since lost their drawls, another age coming upon them as their dialects change accordingly.  "You can always love someone else."

"Are you kidding?"  He laughs again, harsh now as he rubs away at his tears.  "I don't think I can do that.  Not until I find you again."

"You don't have to do this."  He's tired.  They're both tired.  They're tired of this endless search, this nearly pointless hide-and-seek where David opens one door to a thousand other doors, and he runs and runs and runs after the shadow of a man he can barely see anymore, a man that's trying to find his way back to David but can't, and so they both run and open doors that close others, all in an effort to try and find the other.

All so that he can see Jasper once more.

Really, truly see him as he is.

Hold him.

And kiss him.

And tell him to his face that he loves him and that they can be happy together for once.

"I have to."  David stands up and wipes away the rest of his tears, more determined than ever as he hears another door close.

And his door open.

He walks through his door, not surprised to find the other side empty.  David is sure by now that the hallways and rooms are all just filled with the echoes of each other's voices.  So he speaks out loud, loud enough that he's sure Jasper can hear him.

"I swore it to you.  I've got you.  And I'll come for you."  He tugs at his shirt, at the place where his bandanna once hung over and charges at the next door.  "No matter what." 

\\\\

David never liked attending these social events.  Too stuffy, too hot, and too crowded with socialites and incredibly rich people throwing their wealth around like a child throwing sand into the ocean.

But here he was.

Dressed in a suit that felt a little too tight on him, trapped in an old mansion in the middle of a masquerade party that he was tugged along to at his friend's behest.  And that friend was nowhere to be seen.

So now.  Here he was.  Sipping at his drink as a mask kept his identity a secret to everyone but him and his friend.  That is, if he could find her anywhere.  Now, where did Gwen run off to-?

"Excuse me."  A voice to his left catches his attention.  Soft, just a tad bit high, but for some reason, this voice sounds like the most calming sound he's ever heard.  David turns towards this stranger with the sweet voice, and a man dressed in an ornate, navy tailcoat that hugs his figure faces away from him.  The only distinguishing feature that David can make out is the mess of brown hair the man runs his fingers through as his nervous voice continues to speak.  "I'm afraid you have the wrong man."

"Don't be so silly!"  A blonde woman is clinging to his arm, pouting as she pulls at him.  "Even though you've cleaned up quite a bit, I'm positive that I have the right man!  ...Although you do sound a bit off.  Have you caught a cold?  Oh never mind that, won't you come dancing with me, darling?"

"Miss-"

"Oh um, excuse me."  David rests his hand on the stranger's shoulder and sees a pair of wide, blue eyes turn to look at him.  And David swears he's seen those precious blues somewhere else before.  

"Yes?"  The blonde woman turns her pout into a frown as she looks David up and down.  "Can we help you?"

"You mean ah, you.  Can I help you."  David pretends he can't feel the sweat begin to build on the back of his neck.  "You see, haha, my friend has been meaning to teach me to dance and um, he, therefore, owes me a dance.  Before you."  The woman's frown deepens as David quickly waves his hands in front of him.  "That is!  If he still wants to dance with you, he can!  It's just that- well, um, he promised me first.  S-sorry."  

"Right, dear."  She pulls her hand away from the stranger and crosses her arms.  "And I'm supposed to believe you because...?"

"I'm his friend!"

"Of course.  Then you wouldn't have any trouble telling me his name then, hm?"  A coy smile plays on her painted lips as she looks over David again.  "Shouldn't be too difficult."

"Oh um, h-his name is..."  David gulps as his mind races to pick a name out for this handsome stranger, but before his mind can pick one that stands out, the stranger's warm hand gently squeezes David's arm in comfort.

"Actually," he says easily, the sound of his voice taking David's breath away, "you seemed awfully familiar with me earlier.  Why don't you tell me my name instead?"

"Wh-?"  The woman scoffs and lifts a hand to laugh behind it.  "Don't be ridiculous, darling!  Of course I know your name!"

"What is it then?"  The woman frowns, and it occurs to David that maybe she really does believe she knows this man.  A part of him wants to laugh, just a little, because no one could possibly-

Huh.

"But if I say it, then he'd know your name too."  

"Then my nickname.  Shouldn't be too much of a giveaway."  And then the stranger releases David's arm to rest his own arm on David's shoulder, reclining ever so casually as David tries not to suddenly combust on the spot.

He knows he found the room hot earlier, but holy CRIPES does he feel like he's on fire now.

"Well I wouldn't say that-"  She pauses, eyeing the stranger's smug smirk as her brows draw together.  "...No, I suppose it wouldn't be, hm?"  The woman straightens up with a coy smile on her face, despite how her eyes flick between David and the stranger in confusion.  "It's Kev."

"Unfortunately, miss, like I said before, you got the wrong man."  The stranger nods to David without looking at him, but there's an unspoken trust that settles between them.  No doubt, no matter what name David says, the stranger will go along with it.  "What's my nickname, dear friend?"

As he looks over at this stranger who feels more familiar by the second, a single name is all that comes to him as he looks over the brunette.  Warmth spreads and builds up from inside of his chest as he speaks a name he's never spoken before.

"...Jasp."  Those blue eyes flick to him in interest as David breathes out the nickname.  "Short for Jasper."

"That's right."  There's awe in the man's voice, and David swears there's a delighted twinkle in his eyes before he turns away from to face the bewildered woman.  "My name is Jasper.  And if you still wish to doubt us," he lifts his mask up just enough to make the woman pale at her mistake, "there you have it.  I'm truly sorry that you mistook me for this 'Kev' person, but I'm sure if you look around a bit longer, you'll find your partner."

"He's not my-"  The woman groans and makes to pinch the bridge of her nose, only to be further frustrated as the mask blocks her way.  "Oh, never mind!  I'm truly sorry for mistaking him for you, please, continue on with your night."  She rushes away with a huff, only to pause as she throws a bored look over her shoulder.  "Although, I suppose a little bit of caution should be taken, hm?  Bull-headed idiots tend to roam around at night, and they usually charge first, think later.  If I were you, I'd be careful tonight."  Before either of them can question her words, she disappears into the crowd without another word.  It's then that the man takes his arm off David in a rush, hands up as if David was somehow upset by the touching to begin with.  

Surprisingly, he was not.

"Oh!  Sorry, I barely even know you and-"

"It's fine!"  David reassures the man quickly, laughing sheepishly as he feels himself relax around the stranger.  Why did he feel so calm around him?  "I don't mind, really."

"Right, um."  The man quickly cards his fingers through his locks, a habit David realizes is of the nervous sort.  "Thank you for saving me back there, I really appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure."  The conversation stalls to a stop as David shuffles nervously.  Normally, this is where they should part ways, right?  He helps out a stranger, they exchange their pleasantries, and then the stranger goes on about his night.  That's what most strangers do, especially if there's no reason to stay.  

But the stranger stays.

Drifts a bit closer to David until he offers a gloved hand to him.

"It'd be rude of me to go back on my word."  David blinks as the stranger with sapphires for eyes returns his gaze, a soft smile on his face.

"...What?"  David is about to scold to himself for giving such a dumb response, but the man merely chuckles and keeps his hand outstretched.  His chuckle is just as soft as his smile, and there isn't a hint of judgement in it.  It's light, free, airy.

A sweet sound that David tucks away in his memory.

He wants to hear that chuckle again.  

"You said I was supposed to teach my dear friend how to dance."  The man winks.  David swallows.  "And my mother always told me to make good on my word."

"R-right."  David takes his hand, and even with gloves on, he can feel the warmth that radiates from the stranger.  The man squeezes David's hand reassuringly as he tugs him to the dance floor.  "Oh!  But, um, I already know how to dance."

"Then that makes my job easier!"  With a laugh, he pulls David close to him and keeps his grip on David's hand, the other settling on his shoulder.  David's ears burn as he assumes the lead role, his free hand settling on the stranger's back.  Surely, his ears are burning because he can feel the heat of curious dancers boring holes into him and his partner, and not for any other reason.

They must be a strange sight to behold.  Two men dancing with each other as though they were the only ones on the floor.

But the stranger's bright smile makes it hard to focus on the scrutiny of everyone around them.  Another wink from the man has David's feet moving automatically with the tempo of the music, and the stranger keeps pace with him easily.

"So then, rude of me to just ask right now but, what is your name?"  The stranger tilts his head to the side as they dance, and David nearly stumbles from how cute that was.  

"Oh!  U-um, my name is David."

"David."  The man rolls his name around on his tongue, as if to savor the feel of it.  "A very nice name!  I like it."

"Th-thanks.  I like it too!"  Even more so now.  "And... your real name is...?"

"Well, wouldn't you know it?  Your guess was spot on!"  The man- no, Jasper laughs heartily as they continue to dance.  "My name really is Jasper!  You even got my nickname right, which is..."  Jasper trails off, his eyes blinking slowly behind his mask.  "...Huh.  Well, actually, I don't think anyone has called me 'Jasp' before."

"Oh, if that's so then, um, I can... keep calling you Jasp."  Jasper's surprised gaze causes him to squeak.  He nearly lifts his hands to shake them in front of him, but stops when he finds himself unable to let go in the first place.  Instead, he tightens his grip on Jasper as he tries to recover.  "I-I mean, if you want me to, that is..."  David's gaze drops to the ground as Jasper's feet slow to a stop.  A gloved finger gently tips his chin up as eyes that look like a clear blue sky meet his own with that familiar twinkle in them.  

"I think that's a splendid idea."  A smile matches the subtle squint of Jasper's eyes as he takes the lead from David.  "Even makes me feel a little more special than I already do."

"Special?"

"Well," Jasper gives David's shoulder a gentle squeeze as they drift with the dancing crowd around them, "I think all this special attention you're giving me is quite the gift already.  A nickname as well?  You flatter me, good sir."  

The best response David can come up with is incoherent stammering and a bright blush.  Jasper laughs as he sweeps David with his movements, swaying just enough with the crowd that they blend in like every other couple.

It's easy to get lost in Jasper's movements.  Easy to match every step he takes, every turn, every pivot - they flow naturally like the river behind his house, easily maneuvering around each rock, each log, each obstacle in their way as though nothing can break their rhythm.  When Jasper twirls him out with a grin, his grip remains strong as David is pulled back into Jasper's waiting arms, a giggle escaping David as he's held close to this stranger he swears feels more familiar to him with each passing second.

Which can't be true.  He barely knows the man.  But as Jasper continues to smile and spin him around, he finds himself dizzy with the idea of being around him more.

Maybe actually getting to know him.

Wouldn't that be simply divine?

Oh, but he supposes maybe getting actually dizzy might be affecting him too.

"Jasp," he gasps, head lolling forward a bit to rest on the brunette's shoulder, "can we, um, rest for a bit?"

"Oh- oh!  Sorry, okay, that's enough, huh?"  A worried chuckle escapes him as Jasper leads David off the dance floor.  "Do you want a drink maybe?"

He shakes his head.  "Is fresh air alright?"

"Of course!"  Jasper begins leading him out to the gardens where they're met by a rush of people happily drinking and conversing loudly within their many groups.  David didn't mind the ruckus - this is normal for parties, after all - but Jasper seemed less than satisfied with the noise.  "Let's say we try the third floor instead."

"Huh?  Why?"  That didn't sound very fresh airy.

"I heard there's a balcony on the third floor that has a fantastic view of the stars!  And I don't think these bumbling drunks can make it past the first flight of stairs."  Jasper takes David's wrist and tugs him along.  David should probably protest.  Maybe say wandering someone's mansion during a masquerade party isn't very guest-like behavior.

But then again...

If what Jasper says is true...

Then he could be alone with Jasper.

Even for a little bit.

It's enough to have him pick up his pace, a smile growing on his face as he feels like a child again.

Just the two of them, under the stars, talking.

Where no one can see them.

Where no one can judge them.

Jasper glances over his shoulder to David and flashes him a grin.

He gets it now.

As they make it to the third floor, Jasper pushing open doors and glancing around to find his little quiet spot, David realizes that it was never the ruckus that bothered Jasper.

It was simply the eyes that followed their every move.

And now, as Jasper happily crows at finally finding the balcony, he finds himself willing to break a few rules if it means spending time with Jasper like this.

"Here we are!"  Jasper leads him towards the balcony, the wooden railing creaking a bit under Jasper's weight as he leans against it.  Old wood, David thinks idly as he leans on the balcony next to Jasper.  Hopefully it won't crack under their weight.  "How's this for fresh air?"

The breeze ruffles their hair as David takes a deep breath.  Clean.  Crisp.  Cold.  He shivers and leans against Jasper for warmth, the brunette casually wrapping an arm around David to pull him closer.  David nestles closer to Jasper's side and sighs happily.

"It's... it's good."  He looks up at the night sky, and while his mask obscures a bit of his sight, it's still enough that he can see the stars twinkling ever so brightly in the sky.

When he was a child, alone and furious, he believed that the stars would look down at him only to mock him, for while they all had each other, he was by his lonesome, crying out by the barn with no friends to speak of.  But were they really mocking him?  Or was he just imagining it?

Because now.

Now when he sees the stars, twinkling and sparkling like tiny secrets just waiting to be told, he's reminded of Jasper's eyes, and how they twinkle and sparkle with untold secrets he wants to know.

Secrets whispered into his ear maybe, like a little treasure that only he's allowed to know.

He turns to look at Jasper, only to find the man gazing at him softly, a small smile gracing his lips as he rests his head on his palm.

"Has anyone told you that you have the most beautiful eyes known to man?"

David feels his face heat up once more as he looks away, flustered but happy.

"N-no."

"Really?"  He can practically hear the excitement in Jasper's voice.  "Well, lucky me for being the first to tell you then!"

David laughs a bit at that, and when he brings his gaze back to Jasper, he sees those lovely sparkles again as they practically shine with an affection David swears he felt once a long time ago.  It makes him want to see Jasper.

Really see Jasper.  No mask on to hide his identity.

Just him, and his plain ol' face.

He must have been staring for a while, for Jasper smirks playfully and points at his mask.  "What?  Do I have something on my face?"

David opens his mouth to respond just as cheekily when another voice responds for him.

"Well yes, actually, you do."

They both stiffen and turn to face the source of the voice, Jasper's arm quickly dropping as they do so.  

There, standing on the balcony behind them stood a tall blonde, arms folded behind his back as his smile sends shivers down David's neck.  It's cruel, and cold, and angry.  

"Do-"  David gulps, glancing at Jasper before looking at the blonde before them.  "Do we know you?"

"I wouldn't say that you’d know me," the man drawls, striding forward slowly, "I'd say you're quite innocent, to say the least.  But the man next to you is a scam.  So I'd suggest you step away from him and let me deal with him."

"Sir, I don't even-"  Jasper's words come to a halt as a silver glint reflects in the moon's light.  A breath is caught in David's throat as he stares at the knife.

"Oh, don't play coy with me," the blonde growls, his smile now swapped for a snarl.  "Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice- well, I'll make sure you don't go for the third time, hm?"  

David steps between them, ignoring Jasper's alarmed cry as he does so.  "Listen, let's all just calm down for a minute-"

"You don't get to tell me to calm down, sir," he waves the knife around in the air, and oh boy, is that dangerous, "so if you could please step aside and mind your own business-"

David quickly grabs the man's hand and twists his arm, making the blonde shout in shock and pain as he drops the knife.  Before the man can react, David kicks the knife off the balcony, hopefully having it land somewhere where nobody can get hurt.

Alarmed screams sound from below, but nothing bloodcurdling yet, so he calls that a success!

He, however, does not call the fist connecting with his jaw a success.  David grunts in pain and stumbles with the force of the punch, the blonde following it up with a sharp kick into his side that has David stumbling and collapsing onto the balcony floor with a pained wheeze.

"David!"

"And stay down there, if you know what's best for- ghk!"  Sounds of a fist connecting with something has David struggling to push himself to catch sight of Jasper grabbing hold of the blonde's suit to connect his fist to the blonde's face yet again.  

"I don't know WHAT your problem is-" Jasper grits out as the man catches his fist, "but I don't fuckin' know you!"

"I told you not to play coy with me!"  The blonde slams his forehead against Jasper's, stunning the brunette long enough for the blonde to slam him against the railing.  The low creak of the wood catches David's attention as his heart comes to a stop.

"Wait-"

"I've warned you once before, Kevin-"

What?

"Kevin?"  Jasper's bewildered voice quickly turns into a snarl as he grapples with the blonde.  "I'm not fuckin' Kevin!"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'd recognize that hair anywhere-"

"Oh, so you think all men with brown hair are your Kevin then?"

"I know your tricks!  You can try and mask your voice all you want, but I know it's you-"

The wood creaks dangerously as the two men struggle and slam against it, David barely pushing himself up fast enough to stagger towards them.  "Stop- the railing-"

The blonde tries to kick at Jasper's legs but instead breaks clean through one of the balusters between his legs.

Although initially shocked, the blonde grins widely as he slams his forehead down once more against Jasper's, a resounding crack that's followed by wheezing gasp as the blonde follows through with a punch in the gut for good measure.  As Jasper groans and curls forward, his mask falling to the ground as he fails to recover while the blonde braces an arm against Jasper's stomach and pushes up as he-

Oh.

Oh no.

"Stop- stop!!"  David runs towards the pair as the blonde heaves and shoulders Jasper's body over the balcony.  

Time slows down as David watches both of their expressions change as Jasper's body tumbles over the railing.

The horrified realization the blonde has as it is, indeed, the wrong man he just tossed over the edge.

And Jasper's fearful acceptance that he is about to fall to his death.

A promise rings loud and clear in David's mind as he shoves the blonde aside to make it to the railing and lurches forward.

I'll come for you.

He lets out a pained yell as his arm takes the full weight of Jasper's hanging body, half his body hanging over the edge as the broken baluster digs into his shoe as a shoddy anchor.

"I've got you!"  He gasps out, reaching out with his other hand to hold on tightly to Jasper's wrist.  "I've fucking got you!"

"David!"  Jasper's wide eyes stare at him from below, hand clammy and sweaty as David grits out a cry of desperation.  "David you're- you're going to fall too!"

He shakes his head, and this damn mask is just getting in the way so he shakes and shakes and shakes until it flies off and finally, finally he can see Jasper, and Jasper can see him.

"I'm not letting go!"  He digs his nails into Jasper's sleeve and nearly screeches as he tries to pull him up.  "I'm not losing you!"

It's too easy imagining Jasper broken and bleeding, the sparkles in his eyes gone as the light in his eyes go dull, and he lays lifeless and gone to the world.

Gone to David.

He hates how easy it is to imagine that.

And he wants it to stop.

If it means destroying himself in process just to save his life, just once, he'd take that risk.

"David just- just let go, it's okay!"  Jasper gasps and smiles through his tears as his sleeve begins to slip through David's grip.  "I'm happy I got to see your face, at least-"

"Shut up!"  David hasn't yelled in years, and it shocks him almost as much as it shocks Jasper.  "Just- just shut up!  I said I've got you, didn't I?!"  Even so, he can feel his upper body slipping more and more over the edge as he struggles to pull Jasper up, even with his foot caught on the broken baluster, if he doesn't do something soon, they both very well could die-

Arms wrap around his waist as a voice breathlessly calls out to him, "I've got you, so just hold on to him!"

There's grunts and groans as the blonde pulls from behind while David continues to pull Jasper up until he can grab the railing himself.  From there, David and the blonde grab him by the back of his suit and help him up and over until they all collapse on the balcony floor, Jasper sprawled out on David as they huff and catch their breath.

"Hey," Jasper wheezes out, gesturing at the blonde, "what's your name?"

"Daniel," he gasps out.  

"Fuck you."

"Well deserved and received."

David says nothing, and swings an arm around Jasper as he hugs him close.

"David?"

"Shut up."  He presses his face against the brunette's shoulder and hiccups through his breathing as a sob rises in his chest.  "Never tell me to let you go again."

"...Okay."  A hand cards through David's hair as he sobs against Jasper's shoulder.  "I won't."  There's a slight hesitance in Jasper's actions before David can feel the lips press against his forehead, a single breath brushing against his skin as he feels the words: "...Thank you."

\\\\

Doors open, and they close.

But this time.

This time, the door stays open.

A ginger cowboy finally grabs a familiar brunette's wrist, after years of searching and yearning and crying, he finally, finally catches hold of his lover's wrist before it can disappear behind one of those millions of doors.

"...Hey, partner."

And the brunette, shocked and surprised with a frown that turns into a soft smile on his face, turns to find the one he thought he'd never be allowed to see again.

"...You idiot."

"I told you I'd come for you, didn't I?"

"I guess you did."

The ginger pulls his lover into his arms, letting the brunette cling and sob into his shoulder as he rocks them both back and forth.

"I've got you," he soothes through his tears, stroking locks so soft, so familiar, so like home.  "I've got you.  No matter what."

No matter what.

[fmjoanna]

hola , mamakeishas ! 😍 i’m claire, and we love a good repurposing of intro posts. no but seriously, i’m really excited that this is finally open. i’m also really excited to meet all of your muses & write with youuuu. so without further ado, lemme introduce you to jo. aka my stupid, stubborn child who i love so much.  like this & i’ll swoop into your dms for some plots. 👉👈

☆ . · . cindy kimberly, twenty-one, cisfemale, she/her . · . ☆ JOANNA “JO” VASQUEZ lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for PERFECTLY TRIMMED HEDGES and that’ll be it. the ACTRESS has offered occasional glimpses of MAROON walls and an impressive collection of WINE in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained DILIGENT as ever since moving to tercet court FOUR MONTHS AGO, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more RESERVED too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a CAUTIOUS relationship with everyone else who lives on this street.

* BACKSTORY .

tw. mentions of drugs & death.

from  the  beginning  ,  it  was  never  jo’s  dream  to  be  famous.  while  most  girls  were  at  home  playing  with  toys,  jo  was  getting  prepped  for  auditions  by  her  parents.  they  had  ambitions   ————  to  get  filthy  stinkin’  rich  off  the  back  of  their  daughter,  and  for  the  most  part,  it  worked.

jo  landed  a  major  role  in  a  disney  show  (  think  like  hannah  montanna  or  wizards  of  waverly  place,  that  kinda  cultural  impact  ),  and  quickly,  she  became  one  of  america’s  sweethearts.  that  was  a  lot  for  one  kid  to  handle, with  all  the  filming,  press,  etc.  her  parents,  of  course,  ate  up  the  attention  and  capitalized  off  it  fairly  quickly.  brand  deals,  interviews,  anything  you  could  find  a  child  star  on  at  that  time.  it  pretty  quickly  became  overwhelming,  but  she  was  definitely  raking  in  the  dough.  that  meant  she  was  to  continue,  no  matter  how  tired  of  it  she  was.

which  is  where  her  perfectionism  comes  in  to  play,  she  had  a  lot  of  people  relying  on  her  ————  her  parents,  who  she  loved  regardless  of  the  stress  they  put  her  through,  director,  costars,  company,  etc.  jo  was  definitely  a  natural  when  it  came  to  acting.  she  knew  how  deliver  line  after  line,  emote,  and  successfully  pull  off   a  comedic  moment.  on  screen,  she  played  a  charismatic,  social butterfly,  which  was  the  exact  opposite  of  who  she  really was,  a  quiet,  nervous  girl  who  valued  her  privacy  and  just  wanted  to  live  a  normal  life.

which  began  to  take  it’s  toll  on  her.  the  older  the  she  became,  the  less  she  liked  being  seen  as  the  sweet  girl  next  door,  so  she  completely  had  a  breaking  out  of  that  mold  phase ( ala  like  miley  cyrus  or  britney  spears )  around  the  time  her  disney  show  came  to  an  end.  much  to  her  parents  dismay,  she  became  known  more  for  her  off-screen  antics  than  her  onscreen  one  &  definitely  kept  the  paparazzi’s  pockets  fat.  “jo  vasquez  spotted  (fill  in  the  blank  with  something  controversial)”  filled  the  pages  of  magazines  for  a  lot  of  her  17-18  years,  and  she  went  from  america’s  sweetheart  to  probably  one  of  america’s  most  hated lol.  it  had  a  negative  impact  on  her  career  as  well,  which  she  was  happy  about  for  awhile.  that  is,  until  she  realized  that  most  of the  money  she  made  as  a  child  was  collected  by  her  parents  &  not  her.

with  no  money  coming  in  &  the  relationship  with  her  parents  souring,  she  left  home  &  avoided  the  spotlight  for  around  three  years.  probably  lost  contact  with  a  lot  of  people  then  too.  she  thought  a  nice,  quiet  time  by  herself  &  without  paparazzi  following  her  24/7  would  be  healthy.  

&  it  was.  jo  used  the  last  bit  of  her  childhood  savings  to  fund  her  time  away,  but  with  money  tight ,  she  was  a  bit  unsure  of  what  was  left  to  do.  that’s  where  her  great  aunt  came  in.  her  great  aunt  had  gotten  rich  of  her  stocks  in  a  successful  makeup  line  when  she  was  in  her  late  30′s  ( something  that  joanna’s  parents  were  super  jealous  of ).  with  that  kind  of  money,  she  was  able  to  move  to  the  hills  and  purchase  a  beautiful  home.  joanna  had  met  her  only  once  or  twice,  but  there  was  definite  tension  between  her  parents  and  her  aunt.  the  only  thing  she  really knew  about  her  was  that  she  was  wealthy  and  lived  alone,  no  kids  or  significant  other. 

unexpectedly,  her  great  aunt  passed  away,  news  that  didn’t  reach  jo  until  she  got  a  letter  from  her  aunt’s  lawyer,  saying  that  since  her  great  aunt  didn’t  have  kids  &  didn’t  want  to  leave  her  belongings  to  her  niece  (  jo’s  mother  ),  she  had  left  everything  to  jo.  it  completely  caught  her  off  guard,  and  she  considers  herself  pretty  lucky.  

she  knew  that  she  couldn’t  stay  in  the  hills  forever  without  some  income,  and  because  she  feels  like  acting  is  what  she’s  best  at,  she  decided  to  contact  her  old  manager,  and  together,  they  came  up  with  a  plan  to  revive  her  career.

sooooo ,  now  she’s  back  in  los  angeles.  media  has  def  heard  of  her  return  (  apart  of  her  manager’s  plan  )  &  there’s  been  a  small  amount  of  buzz  around  it.  she’s  more  of  a  former  a-list,  so  she’s  really  not  that  in  demand.  however,  she  did  manage  to  land  a  supporting  role  in  a  major  blockbuster  (   something  like  a  marvel  movie  probs  )  so  she’s  hoping  that’ll  change  fairly  soon.

* PERSONALITY .

probably  fake  lol.  let’s  just  be  honest.  kinda  hates  the  celebrity  lifestyle  &  is  cautious  when  it  comes  to  other people  in  the  industry  so  yeah,  she’s  the  type  to  smile  in  your  face  and  then  glare  when  your  backs  turned.  she  knows  how  important  connections  are  in  this  business  &  word  travels  fast  so  she’s  probably  not  “real”  except  with  the  people  she’s  closest  to.  also  the  type  to  be  like  “OMG ofc  i  know  what  that  is. 😍  it’s  my  fave”  but  then  have  absolutely  no  clue  what  the  fuck  it  is  lmaoo  a  tragedy

she’s  a  hard  worker  &  def  a  perfectionist.  everything  has  to  be  perfect,  and  she’ll  do  as  much  as  she  can  to  get  it  right.  it’s  probs  the  reason  she  stuck  with  acting  b/c  the  trial  and  error  of  learning  something  new  would  be  way  too  much  for  her  lol.

but  also  enjoys  time  out  a  lil  too  much  prolly.  is  a  regular  to  night  life  &  partying  (  more  under  wraps  now  than  back  in  the  day  )  &  will  out  drink  just  about  anyone  you  know.  it  makes  her  a  bit  more  brave  &  she  believes   ppl  bare  their  souls  when  they’re  inebriated  so  it’s  easier  to  get  to  know  ppl.  what  a  weirdo.  also  partakes  in  her  fair  share  of  prolly  just  weed.  no  hard  drugs  tbh  she’s  not  the  one

your  average  gal  just  looking  to  have  fun ,  but  could  def  potentially  catch  feelings  that  she  would  deny  til  she  can’t  anymore  or  until  it’s  too late. 🤪  lowkey  wants  someone  to  just  sweep  her  off  her  feet,  but  she’s  blind  to  the  reality  that  she  always  be  making  things  complicated.

behind  the  facade,  she’s  a  bit  stubborn.  probably  also  a  side  effect  of  being  a  perfectionist  &  also  her  need  for  control  ( since  she  lacked  that  when  she  was  young )  so  be  prepared  for  that

* WANTED CONNECTIONS .

ok  but  plots  really  do  be  making  my  world  go  ‘round. 😳 i  love  em,  so  literally  hmu  with  anything  you’re  feeling,  and  i’ll  be  down.  just  wanna  plot  &  write  with  everyone 💕  but  here’s  a  couple  of  wanted  connections  for  y’all.  i’ll prolly  have  a  most  wanted  tag  sooner  or  later  &  i’ma  be  make  a  plot  page  soon.  

best  friend  /  friend  group:  there’s  no  way  jo  could  function  without  friends,  so  pls  give  her  some  good  ass  platonic  tingz.  these  are  the  people  she  can  be  herself  around,  so  she  holds  them  really  dear.

people  from  the  past:  someone  she  knew  from  the  past.  could  be  friends,  enemies,  lovers,  costars,  etc.  she  didn’t  really  let  that  many  people  know  that  she  was  leaving  so  now  that  she’s  back  it  could  be  like  👀  dramatic.

unrequited love / crush:  these  are  fun.  joanna  doesn’t  really  know  how  to  handle  her  romantic  feelings  so  it’d  probably  be  her  getting  the  cold  shoulder .

hookups / fwb:  past,  present,  future.  fwb  would  probs  get  messy.  maybe  she  caught  feelings  or  sumn.

former  friends:  something  happened  &  they’re  no  longer  friends.  we  can  plot  it  all  out . :^)

childhood  friends  to  lovers  to  exes  that  ended  on  bad  terms:  saw  this  on  a  plot  masterlist  &  it  sounds  fun  so  i  thought  i’d  put  it  here lol.

literally anything  your  heart  desires: a  lot  could  work.  we  could  even  just  start  from  nowhere  &  have  them  meet  for  the  first  time  b/c  jo’s  only  been  back  for  a  couple  of  months.