#if you’ve ever reblogged or liked my art thank you

[azimachra]

kinda wild that going on instagram randomly makes me hate all my art and just end up generally sad but going through my saved posts makes me so inspired and ready to create

[springsketches]

I’m amazed consistently by how comfy of a platform tumblr is. It’s easily my favorite platform to upload onto. Everyone here is so nice and I never feel like I’m doom scrolling in a way that other platforms make me feel. It’s funny because everyone was like “oh no, beware of tumblr” a few years back, but it is easily the site I feel most inspired and encouraged by, both in how nice everyone’s posts are and how encouraging both the people and the algorithm is.

Thank you everyone for making tumblr feel like an escape from the pains of reality, even when things feel like they’re hopeless

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: 😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear your father in the garage. It’s a comfort knowing he isn’t in the house. You’ve learned to navigate so that you rarely run into him. The fact of your existence only ever seems to irk him. 

That day, there’s a low rumble between the clank and clunk of his tools. You’re not sure it’s the engine or something else. The last time you glimpsed inside the garage, the engine wasn’t even in that old Bronco he’s worked on for seven years. 

You rub smooth the lines in your forehead and give a long blink. You’ve been squinting at the diamond art for much too long. You sit up and roll your shoulders. You need a break. 

As you emerge from your room, you feel guilty. A break from what? Doing nothing. That’s what your dad always says. Then he laughs and finds something to throw at you. 

You take his lunch box from the floor by the shoe mat and bring it to the kitchen. You open it up and clean out all the containers. Those things you do, as small as they are, like cleaning and making his meals, aren’t enough. He doesn’t fail to remind you of that. 

You dump the uneaten crust from his ham and cheese sandwich as the door from the garage clatters open and lets in the smell of oil and dirt. You turn your attention to the sink as you put the container with the rest. It’s only as you flip the faucet on that you realise the steps aren’t your dad’s. 

“Scuse me,” Sy says. “Don’t mean to bother, but, uh, had a bit of an accident.” 

You face him as he holds out the front of his tee shirt. You gulp. There’s a smear of shiny oil across it, ready to drip onto the floor. Your eyes round. 

“I can clean it in the bathroom, I see you’re busy.” 

He goes to turn away and you put your hands up. The oil won’t come out if he just wipes it into the shirt. You would know since you deal with your dad’s stained jeans.  

He nears as you sidle down to grab the baking soda from the cupboard. He looms, his shadow moving in your peripheral, and you shift the faucet to off. You grab a paper towel and turn to him. You hesitate to reach for him, that seems too much but before you can make a move, he peels his shirt off. 

You flutter your lashes and point to the counter. He lays the shirt out and you open the box of baking soda. He stands back and watches. Heat trickles down your back as you focus on the task. You sprinkle the powder over his shirt. 

You let it soak up as much as it can then blot daintily. 

“You’re clever,” he muses. “Helpful.” 

You shrug. 

“How lucky’s that daddy of yours, huh? You out here cleaning all his mess. You make his lunch?” He peeks over at the sink and you follow his gaze. You nod. “Hm, think he’d be nicer then, wouldn’t ya? Well, I know him, he ain’t a nice fella.” 

You return your attention to his shirt. If your daddy isn’t so nice, why does he come around? You wouldn’t ask even if you could. You can barely concentrate with him exposed like that. 

Your eyes dart over in a fleeting peek. His chest is hair and his stomach thick, his arms too. You’re always aware of how big he is but at that moment, he seems even larger. You look at his shirt. It’ll need more time to soak and wash. 

“Could wash it with the hose, don’t wanna ruin your machine,” he offers as if reading your mind. 

You frown and shake your head. You hold up your finger and flit away with his shirt. You put stain remover on it and dump it in the machine. You set the cycle then hesitate. What will he wear now? 

Your dad isn’t as big. He’s a pretty small guy. He might have something... 

You hurry into the closet of old things and search around. There’s one of those tees he got from a case of Labatts. They always pack the XLs and nothing else. It has some sports team logo on it. 

You go back to the kitchen and offer it to Sy. He crosses to you and accepts it with a smile, “thanks, sugar. That’s mighty nice.” His fingertips brush yours.  

He unfolds the shirt and shakes it out. He pulls it over his head and your eyes crawl down his torso unintentionally. You back up a step as he tugs down the hem, though it hangs short of his belt. Even that is too small for him. 

“You’re not scared of me, are ya?” He asks as he curls his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. 

You shake your head. Shy is all. You’re not eager to mingle with anyone. Nor they, you. 

“You know, I might have a word with your daddy. He shouldn’t be so nasty to ya. ‘Specially all the work you put in.” 

You shake your head frantically and clasp your hands. You know better than that. Even if he’s trying to be nice, it’s the worst thing he can do. 

“What’s wrong? Huh? Just wanna tell him what a good girl ya are,” he crosses his arms and seems to double in size. 

You pout and press your hands together. You cower and takes another step back. His expression turns dire. 

“Sorry, sugar, hope I didn’t upset ya there. I was only... only bein’ nice, ya know? Seems you’re not used to all that.” He drops his hands to his hips. “Fine then, I’ll just have to save them sweet words for you, huh?” 

You look down and chew your lip. You’re not used to the attention. Your dad’s other friends, if you can call them that, just ignore you or laugh at his jokes about you. You nod and turn, gesturing to the sink. You walk up to it, clinging to the excuse to get away. 

“Yeah, I know, you workin’ hard,” he praises. “I’ll be outta ya way now.” 

You bob your head and turn the tap on again. You work at scrubbing the containers, waiting and listening for him to go. When he does, you can breathe again. You’re not so sure why he’s being nice. Not like you can do much but stare. 

💘

When your dad’s at work, you’re as close to peace as you’ve ever been. There’s still that constant restlessness that follows you. The gnawing reality that time is passing you by. That you have no purpose. No direction. 

You envy others. That they have a reason. That they have everything you don’t. They have other people, ones that care, not those burdened with them; they have important work to do; they have fun things to celebrate; graduations, new jobs, marriages. They have voices and you remain unheard. 

You busy yourself with the tidying when he isn’t there. If you try to clean with him around, he only antagonizes you. There’s a roast out for dinner. It will last a few days. Most times, you lose your appetite. You spend all day craving and making the food then lose all desire the moment it’s before you. 

The small pleasures you once treasured fade with each day that starts and ends the same. You can’t feel too bad for yourself. Your dad doesn’t have to keep you. You’re an adult now. Maybe he’ll never say so, or even show it, but he must care, right? 

You finish mopping and start on chopping up the potatoes. You arrange them in the roasting pan around the slab of beef. Then carrots and celery. You save the onions for last because they make you cry. You’re saved from tears by the rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

Curiously, you set the knife down and go to the window. Would your dad be home early? Some days, they shut down the shop when business is slow. 

It’s not him but you recognise the grating on the truck’s nose. The large truck sends up dirt and gravel as it cuts across the worn roadway. Your confusion floods to panic and you rush out the front door.

Is your father hurt? Why else would Sy be here? 

You hover on the top step as he grinds to a stop and shuts the behemoth truck off. The driver’s door creaks as it opens and Sy jumps down. Instead of his usual camo cargo shorts and sweat-dampened tee, he wears a button-up with short sleeves and a pair of brown slacks. It even looks like he combed his beard. 

Your face twists in a grimace. What’s going on? Why is he here? 

He reaches back into the truck and brings out something behind his back. You can’t see it as he keeps his arm bent behind him and shuts the door. He grins and walks up to the house as you watch. 

“How’s it goin’?” He asks brightly. 

You blink. You look at his collar, the top button straining against his thick neck. You lower your gaze to your loose blue tee and barrel jeans. You’re dressed like a laundry line. Your clothes offer no shape, nothing. They just do the job. 

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise ya, and uh, I was thinkin’ ya know, this place deserves a bit of colour,” he chuckles then clears his throat, “and you deserve good things, so, uh, here.” 

He reveals the flowers from behind his back and you blanch. You stare at the dainty petals, white with violet edges. They are pretty. Too pretty for this place or for you. Besides, why would he do that? 

“You don’t like em? Should I have got roses?” He asks. 

You flinch. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You come down the steps and cautiously reach for the paper cone. He hands it over and you stare at him. Then you smell them. You think that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

“Smell good?” He asks. 

You peer over the petals at him and nod. You’re not sure how to react. What do you do now? You can’t just leave him out in the yard. You raise your thumb and point it over your shoulder and tilt your head. 

“Sure, I’ll come in,” he accepts. 

He steps forward, a bit too close, and you hop backward up the step. You barely keep from tripping. You get onto the porch and spin around, scurrying to the door. You open the door and step to the side to hold it for him. 

He laughs again, “now, I’m a gentleman, sugar.” 

He grabs the door and gestures you through. You take his directive without pause. You hurry inside and he follows. As he stops to take off his shoes, you continue on into the kitchen. 

You search for an adequate holder for the flowers. You find an old canister and set them in it with some water. His presence lurks behind you. You put the bouquet on the table as he looks around. 

“You cookin’ a fine dinner, huh?” He says. “Like I tell your daddy, he’s a lucky man. Any man’d be lucky to have that waitin’.” 

You shrug. He shifts. 

“I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness but I was gonna ask ya a favour.” 

You look at him blankly. He reaches in his pocket. He pulls a length of silk. A tie. 

“Couldn’t figure this out,” he explains. “Thought maybe you might...” 

You stare at the tie. You remember tying your daddy’s for your grandma’s funeral. That was a long time ago but you think you could remember. 

You swallow down your nerves and approach him. You take the tie and he glances around. He pushes a chair out and sits. He leans his head back. 

“Just wanna make sure I look good for ya,” he says. 

You flip up his collar and bring the silk around his neck. As you do, your thumb brushes his coarse beard. He hums. 

“Don’t worry bout pullin’ my hair,” he scoffs. “Won’t bother me none.” 

You line up his tie, knuckles brushing his shirt as you go through the steps in your hand. You pull the tie snug and fix hit collar. You step back and he sets his head straight. You hug yourself and give him a questioning look. 

“Ya like your surprise?” He asks. 

You look at the flower then nod. 

“And what about the other?” 

You face him again and your brows draw together. 

“Me,” he snorts. 

You purse your lips and shrug. What does he mean? 

“We’ll wait for your daddy, huh? Then I’ll ask his blessing.” He rests his elbow on the table, “and you’ll have dinner all ready, won’t ya?” 

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[shadowkoo]

Just Dance It Off

→ Summary: You're over the moon when you land the female lead in the end-of-semester show. It feels like your hard work has finally paid off, everything is going great. Well, until you learn who your partner is…

↠ jimin x f.reader | 9.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, angst, fluff, ballet dancers au, enemies to lovers, performing arts college au

→ Warnings: explicit and unprotected sex, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, use of fake ID, mild exhibitionism, creampie, hair pulling, angry sex, nipple play, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, heavy teasing & banter, edging, orgasm denial, light choking

→ Author Note: This is a rewrite of an old 2019 fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! Also a biiiiiiig thank you so Sarah @caelesjjk for beta editing this for me. Go show her some love if you aren't already following her! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“Oh, no,” you hear one of the dancers behind you whisper to another, “Look who’s walking in.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you casually stretch, your eyes betraying you by glancing over your shoulder toward the door, dying to see who they’re talking about. You recognize him almost immediately and the whispers continue to grow about the slender male who is walking across the room to set his stuff down.

Park Jimin.

Of course, he would be auditioning for this show. It’s his final semester, and you really should have seen this coming. Especially since you knew he was bound to get whatever position he was auditioning for. That’s a given.

Park Jimin always gets whatever he wants in life; whether that be a specific role in a performance, who his performance partners are both on the stage…and in the bedroom, that sort of thing. He’s the most pretentious person you’ve ever met, seeing as he acts like he is God’s gift to the dance world, and you’re already dreading any interaction you’ll have with him.

Rumor has it that his daddy, former dancer and sponsor, paid his way into Juilliard, but as much as you hate to admit it, he (unfortunately) happens to be very talented and you doubt the school didn’t already have something lined up for him, regardless of who his family is. Unlike you, who was on the waitlist for two months and had to take out a loan worth more than your life to attend this school.

Your eyes meet his and Jimin does a once-over before moving onto the people to your left. What a prick.

“Y/N!” a voice yells from the entryway. Your familiar, freckled, redheaded best friend is quickly prancing towards you.

“I’m so happy to see you here,” Catalina squeals before hugging you tightly. “What part are you auditioning for? Please tell me it’s lead. God, I miss you. It sucks that we don’t have any classes together this semester. How are you?”

You hug your petite friend back, “I miss you too! Please tell me that you’re not also auditioning for lead, I don’t want to be judged against you. Your pirouettes are perfect compared to my lousy ones.”

Her laugh echoes through the room. “Apparently you didn’t hear about my recent tumble,” she jokes, bumping her shoulder into yours. “I’ll gladly be in the background after my solo-gone-wrong.”

“Alright, everyone!” One of the male judges calls out, walking past the lineup of dancers to collect everyone’s entry form. “We’ll start with the routine you were required to memorize as a group, and then it will be individual evaluations after. Make sure your numbers are secured and let’s line up outside the door.”

After taking your place and getting into position with the rest of the packed room, you wait for the cue to begin. The routine is short and simple, and years of practice have made some of the required moves second nature.

Before you know it, the judges are escorting people out the door for the individual sessions.

You're about twentieth in line, right behind Cat. That makes you a bit nervous because, even though she’s not auditioning for the lead role, her impressive skills might land her a more prominent part than the one she’s aiming for.

Everyone else is quietly chatting in line while you do your best to relax, working through your routine in your mind. This is one of your pre-audition rituals. It always helps with easing your nerves.

By the time you finish running through a couple of full-outs in your head, you’re second in line. You wish Cat good luck as she’s ushered into the dance studio. Her five minutes go by almost too quickly, but she exits with a happy smile.

“Hey, good luck! Kill it, okay?”

You nod, quickly following after the woman who calls your name next.

“Miss Y/N, it says here that you’re auditioning for the female lead. As a sophomore?” Mr. Jenson, one of your dance professors and judge, questions. You prepared for this. It’s very uncommon for an underclassman to try out for such a prestigious role.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.” You hold your head high.

“Well, I have to say I’m quite impressed with your confidence. Whenever you’re ready.”

You wait for the familiar beginning notes of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz Of The Flowers to play before flying effortlessly through your well-practiced routine. You’re banking on the emotional state of your dancing along with the technical moves you’ve included to impress the judges, and based on their faces when you finish, you figure you did just that. You can’t help but grin widely as you watch the four of them scribble furiously onto the sheets of paper. That’s a really good sign.

“I have to say, I was a little thrown off in the beginning by your song choice since it’s so, hmm, how do I say this, so amateur. But I was very surprised by what you chose to express and the level at which you dance,” the first judge says.

“Yes, the lines you created with your body were very exquisite,” another praises.

You nodded, taking in their advice and criticism.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, you may exit.” Mr. Jenson says with a smile.

As soon as you step out the door and exhale, you feel a sense of relief. The excitement of your successful audition courses through you, filling you with good energy.

You find Cat stretching in the warm-up room next door.

“Oh my god, you got it. Didn’t you?” She squeals the second she sees your face.

“I don’t know…” You have a pretty good idea based on their responses and comments but aren’t positive.

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “That’s your ’I just nailed my audition’ face. You totally got it.”

“I hope so. God, wouldn’t that be so insane? When was the last time an underclassman got the lead?”

Someone behind you scoffs; you look over your shoulder and see that it’s Jimin. Your eyes narrow at him, but Cat turns you back before you go off on him. “Not worth it, the rest of us seniors think it’s great that you’re trying for a top spot. How about we go get a drink from the vending machine while we wait?”

You nod before grabbing your warm-up bag and follow her out. “I can’t believe him. He’s so stuck up,” You grumble once you’re far enough away that no one but Cat can hear you.

“He’s always like that, just be thankful that you don’t share any classes with him.”

You’ve heard that Jimin is usually the center of attention in class, whether it’s his choice or not, so you can’t imagine being stuck in one with him. It sounds like it would be impossible to get good feedback if the teachers only care about him.

After you both buy the drinks that you want, you head back. The line is smaller but it will still be at least a half-hour until everyone has had their turn. You sigh impatiently and head back into the warm-up room.

Deciding to sit along the mirrored wall, you rummage through your bag to find a pair of headphones and put your favorite playlist on shuffle while you wait. Even though it feels like half the day goes by while you’re sitting there waiting, it’s really only been about an hour.

Everyone’s attention lands on Madam Jamie, one of the contemporary dance professors, when she asks everyone to re-enter the audition room.

“Okay,” she starts once everyone gets in line, “Those whose numbers I am about to call, please step forward. Dancers eleven, one fifty-three, one forty-seven, seventeen, thirty-eight, twenty-two, and one ten.”

Cat gives you a concerned look as she steps forward without you.

“Seventy-two, fifteen, sixty-eight, thirty, thirty-four, eighty-two, one twenty-one–” you step forward and sigh in relief once she spoke your number. Tuning out the rest of the numbers called, you smile at Cat as she reaches for your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Everyone else, I’m sorry to inform you that you have not been selected. Thank you for your time,” She finishes, resting her clipboard against her chest.

Those who didn’t make the cut are escorted out as Mr. Jenson stands up to make an announcement.

“I have everyone’s part listed here,” He shakes the paper in his hand. “It’ll be left on this table for you all to look over. However, I want to first congratulate you all. We are excited to have this much talent for the semester’s exhibition show. We have some great things planned and cannot wait to get started with you all. Please take note of our rehearsal schedule. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Eight to noon. Most of you should not have conflicting schedules as all dance classes are held in the afternoon anyway, although if you do have a problem just stay after and we can work it out. Madam Jamie and I will see you back here Monday morning. Dismissed.”

You and Cat both wait until more people clear out of the room before you have the guts to read the paper.

Catalina Wilde - Corps de ballet

Your eyes wander across the page as you search for your name.

Y/N - Lead Female Soloist

Turning towards each other, you squeal “Oh my god,” at the same time.

“I can’t believe it. We both got what we wanted,” you excitedly rush out.

“I know, this never happens. Oh, I’m so excited!” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it again, picking up the paper with her other hand.

“Oh, no.” She turns the paper towards you, “Look who your partner is.”

Park Jimin - Lead Male Soloist

You huff, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You turn your head and search the mostly-empty room for him. You have a feeling he’s still here, it’s like you can sense his presence.

“Cat! You coming?” the group of dancers near the door asks.

“Shoot, I’ve got to head to my next session. I’ll see you later, okay?” Cat says, giving you a quick hug as she runs out the door.

Leaving just you and Jimin.

Deciding to let go of your prejudice against Jimin, you figure the best move would be to congratulate him on getting the part he auditioned for.

He watches blankly from the mirrored wall as you walk towards him.

Once in front of him, you stick your hand out. “Hey congrats, I’m looking forward to–” you begin before he rudely cuts you off by holding up his hand.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sneers, “We need to take this extremely seriously so I expect you to be at our rehearsals an hour early so we can get in extra time,” he looks you over again, “From what I can tell you’re gonna need it.”

“Also,” apparently he isn’t finished, “I expect that you’ll be taking care of your diet from here on out since I’m going to be lifting you and I don’t want my arms to give out, or worse, snap.”

“Well, you can always go to the gym and work on that yourself,” you say defensively. What a jerk.

“So can you, sweetheart.”

“Uh, wow. Okay…” Here you are trying to congratulate him and here he is treating you like dirt. “Guess the rumors are true,” you mutter as you shift your duffel strap further up your shoulder, turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” Well, shit. He wasn’t supposed to hear that part. You look him in the eyes without showing any regret for your previous statement.

His eyes narrow at you, clearly not liking your RBF, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” However, you aren’t.

“You know,” he remarks, “I don’t care about what you’ve heard about me or what you think about me. I care if you’re going to be too immature for this role and if that’s the case I’ll have no trouble replacing you.” He follows you out the audition room.

Oh boy, you’re pissed now. You turn around and get right in his face.

“What the fuck? In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t in charge here. Just because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore doesn’t make you any better than me,” you bark while shoving a finger in his chest.

“Secondly, I don’t need to believe the rumors because you’ve just proven them to be true. You’re an ass to all of your partners to the point that they don’t want to dance with you so you can,” you lift up your hands to finger quote this next part, “Pick who you think is good enough.”

You scoff, “Well, here’s a fun fact dickwad. I’m not going anywhere. The judges chose me and I fully intend on dancing as the female lead in the show. So get the fuck over yourself ‘cause you’re about to be seeing a lot of me in these next few months. Got it?“

"Fine,” he huffs, pushing past you.

“Fine!” you snap, turning away from him and heading towards your next class. Now that you're thoroughly annoyed and not in the mood for your next class, which happens to be a two-hour lecture on the history of interpretive dance, you sigh and get moving before you’re late.

The first two weeks of ‘rehearsals’ are spent training, just at a higher level than you’re used to. However, you hide it well. You’ve been making sure to keep up with the upperclassmen because you know that you are, unfortunately, replaceable if Madam Jamie or Mr. Jenson deems it necessary.

It doesn’t matter that your thighs feel like they are on fire, or that your calves might be ripping at every bend and arch you make. You’re going to complete the one hundred pliés just like everyone else without a single complaint.

Jimin must have taken your last conversation to heart, or he’s exceptionally good at masking his feelings if your words bothered him, because he’s been an excellent partner all week. Although, you know you aren’t going to grow a typical relationship with him as you did with all of the other partners you have had over the years. You’ve been friends, good friends, even, with your previous partners, something you know is never going to happen with Jimin.

He doesn’t do small talk. He really doesn’t have much to say at all other than pointing out when you are making a mistake. No good comments, nor praise–not that you’re expecting any–but it would have been nice to hear him say that he is impressed with how well you’re keeping up with him.

It’s Friday of the second week, which means that it’s the last day of the training period aka hell week, thankfully. You’re dying to get started on learning the actual program. You aren’t looking forward to Jimin’s request of showing up an hour earlier than everyone else this next week, but even though you hate to admit it, the extra time will end up benefiting you.

Today also happens to be the day the choreographer is coming in. You’ve heard the whispers throughout the school this week, everyone trying to guess who it’s going to be.

And after seeing who Madam Jamie walks into the studio with, you’re so happy to see that they were all wrong.

“O-oh my–ohmygod,” you bumble and did a double-take. It couldn’t be, could it?

The brown curls hung gorgeously on the tall man’s head and you internally drool at how much better looking he is in person. He’s so tan, so fit, so delicious–

“Can you concentrate?” Jimin grumbles in annoyance, pulling you out of your slightly inappropriate thoughts. You’re doing partner stretches, which does require some level of focus, but not enough that you have to look away from the literal Italian God who stood a mere six feet away. “What’s your deal anyway? We’re supposed to be preparing our muscles for the toughest training session yet and you’re over there stuttering like a fool.”

You scoff at him and lower your voice, “Don’t you know who that is?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Does it look like I care?” He mutters, pushing the backside of your thigh towards your torso.

“You can’t be serious,” you exasperate. “That’s Luca Black! You know, one of the most famous choreographers in the dance world right now. I can’t believe you don’t see how big of a deal this is.”

“The only thing I care about right now is making sure your hamstrings are loose so you don’t kick me in the face when we’re dancing.”

Now there’s an idea…

“Alright, everyone! Front and center please,” Mr. Jenson announces as he walks in the door, right on time as usual.

“Dancers, I would like you to meet Mr. Black, your choreographer. I expect you all to treat him with the same level of respect that you give me and Madam Jamie.”

“Oh please,” Mr. Black says, stepping forward, “You can all call me Luca.” His smile hits the heart of every girl in the class, and even a few of the guys. “I am looking forward to working with you all to make this performance one to remember. Can we get into a lineup to start?”

Everyone moves into the typical sequence based on each person’s position of where they belong. Which meant that you and Jimin were dead center with Luca’s eyes right on you.

You swallow slowly when he walks towards the two of you. “You must be Y/N. Mr. Jenson has told me quite a lot about you. I have to say, I am most excited to work with a dancer like you.”

Jimin is perplexed that Luca went straight to you. If anything, he’s the better dancer here and he doesn’t quite understand why a sophomore is getting so much attention. He’s nearly sick to his stomach listening to the nauseating conversation that you two are having.

“It’s an honor to have you working with us Mr. Black,” you say in awe as you shake his hand.

“Luca,” he corrects before lifting your hand to kiss it, “And the pleasure is most definitely all mine.”

“Sorry,” you pant, rushing through the door. “I know I’m a couple of minutes late. I couldn’t find parking. Why is it so freaking busy? It’s barely seven.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Jimin says ignoring your question. You bite your tongue and get straight into your morning stretches.

“What do you want to work on today?” you ask, knowing what he is going to say after you’re warmed up. For the past three weeks, you and Jimin have been dedicating extra time to perfecting scene two's Pas De Deux.

It’s the only section of this scene where you’re both completely alone on stage and Jimin is dead-set on making it nothing less than perfect. He reasons that just because you are the only two people on stage doesn’t mean that the audience’s attention is a given, you need to earn it.

Which is a very on-brand thing for Jimin to say.

“Do you really need to ask?” He snickers with a playful smile plastered to his face.

“Nevermind then,” you banter back, joining him as he finishes stretching.

You’ve surprisingly gotten pretty comfortable with Jimin after spending more time with him. Dancing with him is mostly fun, besides when he calls you out on your mistakes…repeatedly. But even then, you know he tries to mean well. You both have to be the best or the other will end up looking like a fool–which (you assume) neither of you want to happen.

Knowing that you’re almost halfway through the semester is a little terrifying. All the dancers have been making great progress and everything is coming together seamlessly, but you can’t help but feel the nervousness set in.

You take a deep breath and clear your thoughts, getting nervous right now will do you no good. Thankfully, when you start dancing your mind settles and you’re able to concentrate on your performance. 

Well, that is, until Jimin drops you during the lift. You might have understood the mistake if he hadn’t done it three times prior.

“Get up.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to your feet. “We need to get this number down, you know how important it is.”

“I’m aware of that,” you hiss. “But it would be nice if you weren’t letting me fall every two seconds.” You rub your aching side and stretch to see if that helps ease the pain.

“Just dance it off, you’ll be fine.” Jimin walks over to his stuff along the wall, before bending down to grab his water bottle.

You scowl. “Stop being ridiculous and hold me properly. I don’t have teeth anywhere down there,” you say motioning to the space between your legs. “You can put your hand where it belongs without worry, you know.”

Jimin blushes as soon as he hears your words, he turns away quickly before you notice. Yes, it’s technically his fault that you keep falling. It isn’t intentional, but he can’t help it. Especially when he can feel the warmth of your center from where his hand is resting when he goes in for the lift.

The thought of other parts of him being this close to your heat is driving him crazy and yeah, he may have faltered, which yeah, may have caused you to crash down once…twice. Okay, maybe three times. Or four?

It doesn’t matter. He’s so hyper-focused on why he’s thinking about you like this at all. You’re attractive, he already knew that. But this new-found thought of wanting to take you hard and fast, right here in the studio is something else. It comes from deep within, and he can’t decide if he wants to squash the idea completely or let it lead to something wild.

Jimin shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts just long enough for you to both get through these next ten minutes before the rest of the crew arrives for rehearsal. “Alright, let’s go again.”

You get into position, Jimin falling behind you. You try to hold still but his breath tickles your neck while you wait for the music cue.

The motions are practically natural to you at this point, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself in case you fall again.

You rapidly suck in air when you feel Jimin’s fingers press deep into your inner thigh this time as he lifts you. They are incredibly close, much closer than they were last time.

You won’t ever admit to it, but your mind is overflowing with dirty thoughts of Jimin’s fingers somewhere else. Particularly somewhere that would have you writhing within seconds.

Those thoughts are distracting, and you’re late for your cue to jump down. And somehow instead of jumping, your body twists around in a weird way as your head dives down toward the ground below you. Tensing, you brace for the impact that doesn’t come.

Unexpectedly, Jimin manages to catch you before any damage happens, and he quickly pulls you up, as if you were never upside down to begin with. His arms are wrapped right below your butt, causing your head to be directly above his. How on earth it got there, you have no idea.

But you aren’t questioning it. Adrenaline runs wild through your body, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, scared that you still might fall somehow.

Your faces are only a few inches apart in this position, which allows you to see how soft and smooth Jimin’s lips look. You slowly lick yours as he lowers you down to the ground, keeping the same amount of distance, or lack thereof, between you two. The realization that it would be so easy to kiss him right now has set in and you swear Jimin has the same mad thoughts; especially when he’s gripping your hips this tightly.

What you both don’t realize is that outside of the main doors, the rest of the dancers are watching with wide eyes and shocked faces. If it weren't for the unmistakable red hair you see in the mirror's reflection, who knows what might have happened? You don’t think about it, instead, you pull away and play it off before heading toward your bag to grab a drink.

“Morning everyone! What are we all waiting for?” Luca says from behind the dancers, “Let’s go in and get warmed up.”

He opens the door and sees you and Jimin at opposite ends of the room, each taking big gulps from your water bottles. Interesting…

Cat walks in and sets her stuff down next to Jimin’s and silently watches him. His face is flushed but she can’t tell if it was because of the intense moment you two just shared, or from the strain of the lifting sequence. She was the first to notice the look you two shared before the crowd outside the door, and she has a weird feeling about it.

Last she knew you were still fighting with Jimin during your pre-practices, although she’s very aware of the saying ’there’s a fine line between love and hate’. Cat makes a mental note to ask you about this morning’s situation later.

The first half of practice is weird, to say the least. Jimin is treating you like nothing happened. And while technically nothing happened, something almost did and you don’t know how you felt about the something.

Needless to say, you aren’t on top of your dance game today. It’s hard to concentrate with your head filled with empty-answered questions and even more confusion.

“Okay, everyone,” Luca echoes, stealing every dancer’s attention, “Let’s take five. When we reconvene we’ll do a recap of Scenes One through Three with no breaks. If we can get it down we’ll move onto the beginning of Scene Four today.”

You and Jimin happily turn in opposite directions, grateful for some space.

“Y/N, can you stay back? There’s something I want to go over with you,” Luca calls out, stopping you from heading in the direction of Cat and some of the other girls.

Oh no. That’s never a good sign.

“Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he says after seeing your smile falter. “I just see a little room for improvement with the last sequence before the song changes in scene three.”

He gestures for you to get into position in front of him, which you do without hesitation.

Luca moves closer to you and rests a hand on your lower back, “Tighten here and stretch.” He shows you how to position your body to make it look more elegant and elongated. “See how much longer you look now?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Hold yourself like this through the rest of the dance. Trust me when I say you’ll notice a difference. So will everyone else.”

A blush creeps up your neck when his hand slides across your hip before he steps away from you, “Thank you for the tip.”

His eyes burn into yours, and you feel the heat growing in your lower stomach. “Anytime, Y/N.” His lips turned into a small smile, which you returned.

Jimin stalks silently as Luca touches you, his anger bubbling deep down inside him. Fuck, he doesn’t exactly want you, but he definitely doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Luca touching you like that or giving you those looks; looks that have disguised intentions with ulterior motives behind them.

He wants to tell Luca where to go and how to get there, but he knows better. Not only would it be unprofessional as hell, but Jimin would probably be screwed out of a lot of future events if he tells one of the best choreographers to fuck off.

He forces himself to look away and takes another deep breath, calming down a little before part two of rehearsals starts.

The second half of rehearsals ends sooner than expected, and Jimin storms off before you even have the chance to talk to him about this morning. You sigh, your eyes trailing his fast exit.

“Y/N! I’m heading to the vending machine for a granola bar, want to come with me?” Cat asks. You’re sure that her question has a hidden agenda too, but you go along with it anyway since you’re starving and need to eat something small before your next class.

“Sure, just give me a second to switch out of my pointe shoes.” You don’t like to wear yours for walking since they’re new and still stiff.

“So,” Catalina begins, watching you put the money into the machine. “What was that this morning? And don’t you dare try to say it was just dancing, because I’ve seen 'just dancing’ with Jimin and that was not at all what I saw earlier.”

You groan internally, not wanting to deal with her interrogation. Cat isn’t the type to judge you if you told her that you would’ve fucked Jimin right then if it wasn’t for the fact that you noticed her (and the rest of the dancers). But you don’t want to admit it to yourself.

Saying it and thinking it are two very different things, and you aren’t sure you can come to terms with saying that you want to fuck Jimin. Hell, you have no idea if you will feel the same way in an hour. So you choose to keep it to yourself for now.

“Did something happen between you two?” she asks bluntly.

“No, nothing happened between us.”

“And is that a good or bad thing?” she questions next.

“Good,” you huff, “I think…”

It’s been another busy few weeks, and things have been going great…until today. To be honest, this is probably the worst dance day you’ve had in years.

“I’m sorry guys, let’s start from the top,” you apologize again for messing up. The scene you’re going over today isn’t complicated by any means, it’s only a transition scene. But your head is elsewhere which, in turn, makes you mess up every couple of seconds.

You're not getting many approving looks from the room. Luca is a little worried, Madam Jamie has pursed lips, and the dancers are severely annoyed with you.

“No, Miss Y/N.  Stop before you hurt yourself.” Mr. Jenson lets out a frustrated sigh. “Kyra, would you stand in for Y/N and show her how it’s properly done?”

You’re embarrassed that it’s gotten to this point. What is with you? You’ve done this sequence perfectly with Jimin this past week, hundreds of times at least. Now with the extra dancers on the floor, you seem to be forgetting it all.

Taking soft, shallow breaths is the only thing keeping you from crying in front of everyone. But they wouldn’t notice. All eyes are glued to Kyra, a senior who had also auditioned for the same role as you, as she dances with Jimin.

They dance beautifully, you can’t deny it, even if you want to. You can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been the better choice for the female lead.

“Thank you, Kyra. Everyone back into position now.”

Kyra walks past you and smirks. You know she’s thinking the same thing that you are. She probably also thinks that she’s capable of sweeping in and stealing your position. Like hell if you’re going to let that happen.

Even so, it’s not your decision to make and you know if you keep screwing this up it’s more than likely to happen.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s your deal?” Jimin whispers once he lines up with you again. The last thing you need is for him to make you feel worse for fucking up.

“I don’t know, it’s not a good day for me,” you whisper back as your eyes fill with tears. You’re completely exhausted, defeated, and disappointed.

“Just dance it off, we all get days like this. Follow my lead, okay? I promise I won’t let you mess up again.”

You nod, blinking back your tears. This is a different side of Jimin than you’re used to. He’s caring and knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

After shaking off the earlier mishaps, you get yourself together and push through practice, making sure that the first official run-through of the program is a total success. It makes you feel a hell of a lot better than two hours earlier. You can tell that the rest of the group is just as ecstatic as you and Jimin are.

“That was great, Y/N!” he says, pulling you into a comforting hug. “See, all you needed was a little reassurance.”

You’re slightly sad when he pulls back, the warmth of his body is no longer felt. “Thank you for today. I would’ve completely fallen apart without you.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, make sure you get some rest this weekend. See you Monday!” He smiles softly and waves bye. Who knew Jimin had more to him than what everyone else saw?

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn your head and see Madison, one of the upperclassmen who’s also in the show, walking toward you.

“What are you doing tonight? Some of the girls and I are planning on going out to celebrate our first successful run-through of the show. We’re wondering if you’d like to come?” She leans in a little closer, “We have a fake you can use to get into our favorite club, Wander. We’d love for you to let loose with us.”

Usually, you would turn down any interaction that involves alcohol, especially since you’re underage, but you don’t want to disappoint your potential new friends. Plus it does sound like a lot of fun, and after the practice you just had, you deserve to let loose and relax.

“Yeah, totally! I’d love to come.” Madison smiles and you both trade numbers.

“Okay cool, I’ll text you my address later. We’re gonna get ready at mine before we head out. See you later!” She gives you a quick hug before heading out the door.

You’re secretly excited to hang out with the older girls since you don’t have many other friends in your year. Especially not now with all your free time taken up by rehearsals.

Jimin stands outside the dance studio’s side door, slyly eavesdropping. He makes a mental note to accidentally run into you later. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into him, but he doesn’t want to go without seeing you for two days.

You intrigue him, and after your almost-kiss, Jimin wants to know what your lips feel like for real this time, not just what he has been imagining.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks over the pounding music. You have no idea what to ask for; you obviously don’t drink and ordering something from the bar is a little out of your comfort zone since you don’t know what you’re doing.

Madison catches on and takes over. “Five shots of tequila for our group!” she yells while leaning over the bartop so he can hear her.

Oh boy, you don’t know much but you know enough to feel safe assuming tonight will be wild if you’re starting with shots, of all things.

With about a month left until the show, deciding to let loose with the girls is exactly the kind of break you need. Dancing, drinks, and good friends. Looking around, you’re happy to see that you have all three. It’s all a part of tonight’s plan.

What you don’t plan for, however, is seeing Jimin in the middle of the dance floor with Kyra all over him. After practice today, this is a total slap in the face.

You aren’t sure if the progress you’ve been making with Jimin is just one-sided, or if you had been imagining it this whole time. It feels like you’re both taking two steps forward in the right direction and then something like this will happen, sending you ten steps back.

Your eyes are glued to Kyra’s body as she dances with him, her hips moving at the perfect speed. You can’t help but be jealous of her. Not only is she gorgeous and a great dancer, but she also has a way of demanding everyone’s attention in any room she graces. Although, there’s only one person’s attention you want right now, and from what it looks like, you doubt you’ll be getting his anytime soon.

“Oh my god, is that Luca?” Catalina asks with a surprised tone, pointing towards the opposite end of the bar, “No way, it can’t be.”

“It is,” you laugh nervously before looking away. You’re a little worried that he might remember that you’re under the legal drinking age, only by a year, but still. How embarrassing would it be for him to get you kicked out…

“That’ll be $42,” the bartender drones, pushing the over-spilling shot glasses toward your group and happily taking whichever girls’ fifty-dollar bill in return.

You lift your glass along with the others, “Here’s to letting go and having fun!”

The tequila burns the back of your throat but that doesn’t stop you from hollering, “Let’s go dance!”

You pull Madison and Catalina onto the dance floor, coming to an abrupt stop when your back collides with someone., “Oh my gosh, I am so sor–” You pause and stare at the dark-haired man, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi ladies, I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble tonight,” Luca jokes with a wide smile displayed across his face. He looks gorgeous dressed in all black, the leather jacket tops off his outfit.

“Oh of course not, Mr. Black,” Catalina giggles playfully, “We’re all good girls here.”

He raises his eyebrow which makes each of you giggle, “I’m not so sure about that. Can I buy you all a drink? Or is that a little weird?”

You look around at the girls; they do the same.

“Uh, sure? Madison finally says, breaking up the awkward silence.

Cat and one of her friends entertain Luca’s conversation while they wait at the bar. You slyly peek over your shoulder while dancing, looking for you-know-who. You can’t find him, but you’re happy to see that Kyra has moved on to her next man of the night.

"Hey,” Luca says, walking towards you with an extra drink in hand. “Here you go. Shhh, it’s our little secret,” he says humorously.

You thank him for the drink, nervously swirling the ice with the slim black straw in your cup.

“I’m happy I ran into you,” he begins, “Can I talk to you for a second, alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” You nod to Cat, silently saying that you’ll catch up with her later. He smiles and pulls you aside from your friends.

“What’s up?” You ask tensely while Luca grins, running a hand through his hair.

“I just want to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your progress so far, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you at rehearsals.”

Oh my god.

“Really?” You gape.

“Absolutely,” he reaches for your hand, bringing you closer to him before bending down to plant his lips on yours. You freeze as he kisses you gently, entirely unsure of what to do in that situation.

He quickly pulls back after reading your body language, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Luca,” you say curtly, taking a step back, “I appreciate your tips in class and kind comments, but I think we should keep things professional here. You’re the choreographer and I’m a student...”

“Of course, I apologize again. How about I walk you back to your friends and we forget this happened?”

“That would be perfect.” You’re thankful that things don’t seem too awkward, and you only hope things will stay that way when you see each other Monday morning.

Jimin’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms as he clenches his fists. Fucking Luca Black. He was heading your way to say hi, but Luca led you in a different direction than the one your friends are heading to. He should have known better, but he follows behind slowly. And what he sees when he finally turns the corner doesn’t sit right with him.

Luca’s hand on your cheek as the two of you kiss. Jimin isn’t exactly sure who initiated it. And even though it’s eating him alive, he doesn’t want to know because it pains him either way.

He watches as Luca pulls away, and takes note of your stunned face. Jimin wants to believe that was because you didn’t enjoy it. He can’t hear what you’re talking about, and he truly wants to believe that Luca is making you uncomfortable based on your reaction to the kiss. But that hopeful thought is squashed as soon as you smile and take Luca’s hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

Jimin is still trying to process what he just witnessed even though you’re both long gone. He steps out of the shadows and throws his drink at the wall, ignoring the sound of the glass breaking behind him. Grumbling under his breath, Jimin takes the closest exit and slams the club door behind him.

He heads home with the hopes that a cold shower will ease his rage, but the cool water running down his back isn’t doing much for his boiling blood, nor is it getting rid of the image of Luca’s lips on yours. And inevitably, he can’t get you out of his head either which in turn results in him masturbating to those thoughts of you … which is anything but calming.

Jimin closes his eyes and imagines that it’s him kissing you, not Luca, and that he’s the one who has you pushed up against the wall. He can practically hear your soft whimpers, the ones you make when you’re doing partner stretches that always have him close to losing it right there in front of everyone at rehearsals.

But it isn’t him who’s stretching with you. His length quivers in his hand as he speeds up, trying to change his thoughts to you aroused in the club bathroom, his hand sliding underneath your dress and slipping into your panties. Jimin throws his head back at the image of you getting all worked up, but once again, it isn’t him that’s driving you wild. It’s Luca.

After the fifth attempt and still failing to picture himself with you, Jimin gives up. He groans, looking down at his length’s angry red tip that’s aching for release. And there’s only one thing that will give him that. You.

But not an imaginary you. The real you. The real you wanting him just as much as he wants you. He doubts that you ever will, not when you can have Luca instead.

Meaning that Jimin is basically screwed.

Monday is a killer. Jimin has been hateful to you all morning, and you genuinely have no idea why. He seems to be fuming now at the end of rehearsals, compared to the quiet angry vibe he was giving off earlier this morning.

“Hey, great job today Y/n. You’re doing phenomenal. I can’t wait to see this all come to life next week. See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks! Yes, see you tomorrow Luca.” You wave bye while he rushes out of the room, leaving just you and Jimin behind.

Jimin waits until Luca is out of earshot before saying anything. He’s been annoyed all day by your and Luca’s behavior after witnessing the two of you making out in the hallway of Wander.

He’s disgusted, even more so by the afterthoughts of Luca bringing you back to his place and taking advantage of you. Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much this weekend.

“God, you’re such a suck-up,” he criticizes, failing to hold back his evil words. “How special do you think you’re going to feel when the paid help you’re boning doesn’t remember your name the second he moves on to the next school and finds a new student to seduce?”

“Excuse me?”

“You can pretend all you want but I saw you Friday night. With him.”

Oh god…

You shake your head, “Jimin, I can explain–”

“Whatever, waitlist. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He turns around and internally grimaces, upsetting you isn’t what he was going for. He’s pissed and unfortunately, you’re the only person he can take it out on. It’s a dick move to say things like that, especially since you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else.

Jimin knows he should just let it go, but he can’t help it. It’s been eating him alive all day. He’s pissed that you’re acting like a damn fool because of Luca’s attention. Luca’s eyes hadn’t left your body the entire day.

Fucking perv.

Jimin is more pissed that it’s bothering him so much. He shouldn’t care, he doesn’t–or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Jimin’s words stung, and you’re shaking out of pure anger. “What the fuck is your problem? I can handle the normal stick-up-your-ass behavior but it’s on a whole new level today. Chill out, okay? It isn’t what you think. Nothing happened after he kissed me. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but it actually made me, like, super uncomfortable and he apologized directly after. We both agreed it wasn’t professional, so piss off Jimin. And even if I did decide to take it further with Luca, it wouldn’t concern you. So stay out of it.” You’re near him when you finish, with crossed arms and eyes glaring.

It’s unbelievable Jimin would make such a comment; the last thing you need is for him to start telling people what he saw.

You know you would be harshly reprimanded for using a fake ID to get into a club, but also for accepting a drink from someone who is a teacher, and especially for kissing that same teacher.

Jimin is just as heated as you are. So his intuition was right that night. His anger only grows, wanting to punch Luca over and over again for making you uncomfortable like that. How could Luca not tell that you weren’t actually into him, but rather idolized him for his contributions to the dance world? How dare he use that against you to pull a move like that?

“Fine,” he growls in your face, totally furious at the situation, and furious with himself for caring this much about it–about you. You’re driving him crazy, even now when you’re pissed with him. It turns him on how strong and defensive you always are, and fuck, he wants to do something about it.

“Fine,” you snap back, taking another step forward as your eyes subconsciously lower to his parted mouth.

In a matter of milliseconds, your lips collide and your hands are all over each other’s bodies. He lifts you into his arms and slams your back into the mirrors. It’s a miracle that they don’t shatter from his force.

You gasp at the contact and Jimin takes the opportunity to shove his tongue further into your mouth. Your legs lock around his waist while you continue to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously.

Jimin pulls away and tugs your leotard down your arms, freeing your breasts from the tight compression.

“You’re so fucking annoying, do you know that?” He snarls before leaving a line of rough kisses along your neck and down your chest. You whimper at the sensation and run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking loud, do you always have to say so much?” You moan in response.

Jimin is starved for your taste and can’t wait any longer. His hands travel down your side while his lips close over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

You mewl, crashing your head back against the glass from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Jimin abruptly pulls away and brings his face back in front of yours. “What? Do you have something to say?” he asks with fire in his eyes. But with his lips replaced by his fingers, twisting and tugging, you’re helplessly tongue-tied.

He moves one hand lower and another soft moan escapes your lips, his middle finger dancing dangerously above your panties before dipping into your slickened folds.

Jimin knows exactly where and how to touch you, causing your head to spin. He feels himself hardening watching your face contort in pleasure, and nearly coming in his pants when you slowly lick your bottom lip, pulling it in between your teeth and letting out a long moan in the process.

“Mmm, Jimin,” you cry, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Jimin notices this and instantly pulls away. You don’t get to come that easily. Even though it makes him super fucking excited to see what his touch does to you. God, this is so much better than what he imagined.

You whimper at the loss of his touch, “What the fuck?”

“Turn around,” he demands, his eyes flooding with lust and a dash of something dark. He undresses you rather quickly, leaving your tights and leotard wrapped around your legs.

You decide you aren’t going to let him have all the fun, sneaking a hand back behind you. Jimin grits his teeth in pleasure as your hand slips into his pants. His length twitches in anticipation of feeling you wrapped around him. You pull his member out and lead him between your damp folds, moaning deliciously at the contact.

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room and Jimin can’t hold back any longer. He wants to fulfill his fantasy of taking you hard and fast, right here in front of the mirror. Without a warning he slams himself into you, causing you to lose your breath.

Your back is against him as he relentlessly pounds you from behind. The force of his thrusts are hard and you use your hands as leverage against the mirror to avoid being crushed by him, even though it would certainly be worth it.

Jimin brings a hand up around your neck and holds your head straight so he can watch when you come. You’re close and he knows just what to do.

“Say my name,” he demands, using his other hand to pinch your clit. “Look at me and say the name of the man who’s making you come like you never have before.”

“Jimin, oh my-” The waves of pleasure wash over your entire body, every inch of your skin tingles. You pulsate around him, but he’s not done with you yet.

“That’s damn right.” Jimin twists you around again, lifting you against the reflective glass. He keeps his fast pace, with a fistful of your hair held between his tightening fingers.

“You’re such a fucking slut. Look at you losing it over my cock,” he snarls with a clenched jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you like this until the rest of the class comes in.”

Jimin rams into you with twice the amount of force as before. “I’d make that fucking Italian bastard watch as I take you hard and make you feel this good.” He brings his lips up to your ear and whispers, “He could never,” before harshly biting your ear, sending you completely over the edge for a second time. 

Jimin watches you unfold, your beauty completely mesmerizes him. Your entire body is on fire from oversensitivity while Jimin’s fingers rub your throbbing nub. You watch, completely hypnotized, as he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Oh, don’t think we’re anywhere near done yet,” he smirks devilishly, moving his thumb back to your clit and rubbing in crude circles. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, and you can’t catch your breath. It’s too much.

Jimin hisses when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight right now.” It isn’t long after those words leave his lips that he’s shuddering inside of you, his release shooting into the depths of your heat.

Your insides coil as you reach the peak of your third and final orgasm. Jimin holds your legs steady as you come hard over his cock, and swallows your moans with his mouth.

He slowly retreats out of you and presses his flushed cheek against yours. You can feel his heartbeat thumping out of control while you both catch your breath.

After a moment, he draws back and lowers you to the ground. You both chuckle at the state of your appearance. “I think I have a towel in my bag, one sec.” He says while tucking himself back into his pants as you readjust your hair, trying to make the whole ’i just had sex’ look a little less obvious.

You’re still breathing heavily when he returns to wipe you clean.

“Mmm,” you hum in total satisfaction, and still a little out of it - if you had to be honest. “I should piss you off more often.”

He gives you a look, “Hurry up and get dressed before anyone sees you.”

You’re the one to smirk this time, “I thought you wanted people to see me?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Hurry up, you’re taking too long,” you whine while Jimin attempts to undo his stage pants as fast as he can.

“I’m trying,” he mutters, silently praying when his zipper finally works, “There we go.”

He lines himself up to you and pushes into your center.

You bite your lip to avoid making any noises as he stretches you out. The two of you are in the small storage closet behind the stage; there’s only about an hour or two until the opening night show starts.

Jimin thought you had to be joking at first when you whispered how badly you needed him after you both were dressed and ready to warm up with the rest of the dancers. But much to his delight, you weren’t kidding.

Hopefully, they won’t notice your absence. Who are you kidding, they probably know that you two are fucking. Plus, it’s kind of obvious when both lead roles go 'missing’ at the same time.

At first, he was torn between following you into the tight space–wanting to be in another tight space–and doing what he normally would call the right thing, which was preparing for tonight. But after seeing the look on your face, Jimin was quick to follow you into the closet.

“Shhh, you need to stay quiet,” Jimin grunts quietly with a hand over your mouth, silencing your moans.

You grip his shoulders as he quickens his pace, bringing you both over the edge.

“Holy fuck,” he quietly whines, the sensation of your inner walls clenching his length is addicting. It isn’t long after your sweet release that he’s quivering. He pulls out, knowing you can’t dance with his release filling you. He shudders one last time, his come shoots out and onto the wooden floor below.

You giggle, “Good thing we’re in a place that can clean that up.” you say referencing his load.

He rolls his eyes at your joke and leans in to give you a quick kiss, “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, typically.”

You flatten out your costume and zip each other up, leaving the closet one at a time. You first of course, since you needed to touch up your makeup now. Leaving Jimin behind to clean up his mess.

About fifteen minutes later you meet Jimin backstage to practice, stretch, and chat along with everyone else. The jitters are bouncing off of everyone and you can’t stand still from excitement, a little nervousness too. But mostly excitement.

“Jimin, are you feeling okay? You look a little stiff and tired if I must say…” Madam Jamie mentions after watching him practice a few scenes.

“Nothing to worry about Madam, had a tiring warm-up is all. Not to worry though, I am more than ready for tonight.”

Madam Jamie reminds him how important rest and lots of water are when practicing hard before moving along to the next student.

“Hmmm, what is it that you usually tell me?” You begin, giving him a coy look, “Oh right. 'Just dance it off.’ That should fix your issue, correct?” You look down at his crotch, and back up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, daring you to go on.

“After our vigorous warmup, I’m sure you do. But we’re going on stage soon. So suck it up, sweetie.”

He can’t wait to make you regret that statement when he teases you later tonight. He had big plans to celebrate. And knowing you, you would love them.

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[anim-ttrpgs]

The Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy October 17th Beta update has launched today on itch.io for free!

Happy Halloween! We pulled out all the stops just to get the update out in time for you to prep and play it for your group’s Halloween game! The free adventure module that comes with it, “Horror Harry’s Haunted House”, takes place on Halloween after all! In it, your investigators will solve a “murder mystery” in a charmingly spooky haunted house escape room. It serves as a sort of investigation and survival training ground for you and your PCs to learn the ropes before jumping into more Call-of-Cthulhu-esque adventures where death is around every corner. (You can even get two more adventure modules over on our patreon)

Download the new rulebook here on itch.io! Even if you download it for free, just checking it out, talking about it, reblogging this post, etc. helps us out immensely. We are a diverse, largely queer team setting out to slay a dragon, we’ve already been working on this for four years, and we need all the community support we can get!

If you’re wondering what Eureka even is, watch this trailer, or read this post if you don't wanna watch a video.

If you’ve ever tried to run a murder mystery in D&D, what you really needed was Eureka.

If you’re coming from the August beta release, which I assume you are, lemme tell you that a lot has been improved. I’ll go over some of the highlights, and post the full changelog under the cut. It’s still free, but if you could throw a bit of money out way on the itchio page, even if you’ve paid before, that would be a massive, massive help. We’re actually a bit over budget even with the relative success of the Kickstarter, plus for one of us this is their primary source of income.

Trait Overhaul

There’s a few new Traits, and nearly every single existing Trait has been redone to make them better and/or more interesting. Each Trait will now have an even more significant effect on your gameplay experience.

Combat Overhaul + World's Best Grappling Rules

Combat in Eureka is now better than ever, and it was already really good - plus, now you can actually comprehend the dang rules! The previous combat rules, I admit, were a dense and confusing slog to read through, even if they worked really well once you understood them. Now, thanks to our editor, you can understand them! Instead of being split across four chapters, it’s now just two chapters. One chapter explains weapons and is mostly just for stat reference, and the other chapter is focused on telling you everything your character can do during “dangerous situations,” which are not just combat, but really just any kind of scenario where a character can get hurt. As a special highlight to the combat overhaul, Eureka now boasts the first ever set of grappling rules that are viable, realistic, and fun to employ at the table! I’m serious when I say I have never seen them done like this before, and think they offer an actual leap forward in something that TTRPGs have struggled with since early editions of D&D! I also put a lot of my own judo and other martial arts experience to work here.

Monster Overhaul

A lot of what I said about the pre-overhaul combat sections of the rulebooks were also true of the monster PC rules. They were dense, hard to reference, and disorganized. Well not anymore! All six playable monsters in Eureka have been completely rewritten using the skills I have gained as a game designer since first writing them, and, like the regular Traits, they have all been at the very least tweaked to be more interesting and have a greater effect on gameplay, and some have been changed entirely with all new subsystems! Witches brew potions now, fairies actually have stuff to do with the names they collect, and more! Plus, speaking of Traits, every monster can have more regular Traits now, to really help flesh out their personality!

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 302. Half-ass copy-edited up to p. 322.

WHOLE BOOK

Stuck most of the $42+ kickstarter backer submission info into the very back of the book just to get it out of our email inbox and to allow the whole team to be able to more easily see it and work with it. Going to be doing more to integrate this stuff into the actual rulebook soon. 

Changed the headings to hopefully be more legible. Please give us feedback on what you think of this change.

CHAPTER 1

Changed the limitations on how Comfort is used to restore investigator Composure. 

Fixed a typo in the investigation example of play. 

Made it so that Composure rolls for fears in the “Ridiculous” category don’t even always need to be rolled when these things are encountered. 

Moved Character Health and Status, Grievous Wounds, Healing, and Healing Example sections to Chapter 1. 

Changed Partial Incapacitation to give -2 modifiers instead of -1. 

Overhauled the rules for injuries, incapacitation, and grievous wounds completely. A ton of it is changed. 

Added codified rules for medical facilities and what to do in the case of investigator death. 

Added “The Creeps” optional rule. 

Tweak to When is the Party “Split” section regarding how long to go before jumping between groups.

Lots of new art has been added.

Tweaks to Be Prepared to Lose section.

—---------------------------------------------------

Additions to the What is Eureka For section

Changed comforting factors and exacerbating factors for Composure rolls to be +/-2 instead of +/-1 so they make a real difference.

New snoop

Changed the font of the section headings in the Ticking Clock section. Let us know what you think of these headings compared to the other headings, because we are considering changing all the headings to be like this.  

Better clarified some stuff about how Ticks work when an adventure starts at some random time of day.

—-------------------------------------

More art has been added

Made travel take more time and matter more

CHAPTER 2

Changed the CQC skill to Close Combat, as this is more clear and obvious what that means at a glance

Made lots of copy-editing progress. Many paragraphs are shorter and convey the rules more clearly. 

Changed the way the Burnout Trait works. It now causes the investigator to lose flat Composure each day rather than affecting their Composure rolls. 

Changed the Death Wish Trait to not suck.

Changed the Elementary! Trait to use Visual Calculus instead of Social Cues.

Changed Go With Your Gut Trait to not suck. 

Added that wallets and like basic clothing and stuff have a WP cost of 0

Added glasses to item list

Added rope to item list

Added hand warmers to item list

Changed Arithmomania trait to where it only gives a +1 base bonus to Paperwork, and the bonus for having a lower Ignorance of Quantity Tiers of Fear rating is more investigation points. 

Changed Femme Fatale to add a +1 Seduce bonus instead of +2. 

Totally redid the Hardy Trait. 

Added -1 modifier to I’m Okay You’re Okay Trait

Redid the Just Built Different Trait. Now it allows a character “no sell” an incoming Superficial Damage attack once per Scene, reducing the damage to 0, among a few other things. 

Added Renaissance Man Trait. 

Removed Love Me Trait. Might try to reword it another time, but it was too similar to too many other traits and wasn't very interesting. 

Completely reworked Lover Trait. 

Many new snoops have been added.

Changed the Mad Genius trait to be called Lovecraft Protagonist and changed what it does. 

Removed the investigation point cap on Man of Action Trait. Also changed the name to Ask Questions Later. 

Changed My Glasses Trait to only provide bonuses to Knowledge Skill Investigative Rolls. 

Changed Nightstalker Trait so that it provides a bonus to all Interpersonal Rolls while trespassing 

Changed None of My Business Trait to suck less.

Changed Not Finished Yet Trait to suck less.

Changed Showboater Trait to suck less.

Changed Skeptic Trait to suck less.

Smalls is now a real Trait instead of just a joke Trait. 

Removed the +1 Bonus from the Unpredictable Trait.

Changed Wicked Trait to not suck. 

Changed Wizened Trait to suck less. 

Woo-Woo Trait no-longer based on Blacked Out Skill. 

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” here and changed the title to “Disabilities are Disabling”

Changed Basic Physical Therapy on the Wealth Point Item List from 3WP to 2WP. 

Added new section “People Change”

Made Blissfully Ignorant trait immune to “The Creeps.”

Made the Technically… Trait have a +2 bonus instead of +1.

Updated the Hard Boiled Trait to work with the new way that injuries and incapacitation works.

Moved the Hardened Hearts snoop to be the Wicked snoop instead. 

Changed “Empath” Trait to be “Empathetic” instead. 

Made “Did You Know…” a better and more usable Trait

Made Hard Under Pressure a better and more usable Trait.

Changed how the WP cost of an item affects the modifier for rolling for it in-adventure. The modifier is now half the WP cost rounded down. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Gave a proper name to the Wealth modifier attached to certain homes and vehicles, it is now called the Property Modifier(PM).

Lowered the price of firearm ammunition by 1WP

Lowered the price of desktop computers by 1WP

Lowered the price of cameras by 1WP

Combined various hand tools into one entry on the item lists and moved them to Misc.

Made hotels something that is prepaid in WP similar to food budget. 

Made Large Apartment less expensive and Tiny Apartment more expensive

Moved Baseball Bat and Axe out of Weapons and into Misc. 

Changed how Food Budget works.

Removed Net Skill Limit mechanic entirely

Edit to the duration of the bonuses for Femme Fatale

Changed Ninja Trait to a +2 bonus instead of +1

—----------------------------------------------------------

Made “Sleep On It” Trait give 1D6-1 investigation points, and still give Composure.

Added “Real Capybara Hours.” Sometimes jokes are just for us.

Added animals to item lists

CHAPTER 3

Moved the section “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” into chapter 2. 

More art has been added.

Moved Character Health and Status, Grievous Wounds, Healing, and Healing Example sections to Chapter 1. 

—------------------------------------------------

Changed the name of Chapter 3 to “Dangerous Situations.” We are planning to put all the combat and other dangerous stuff into one chapter called “Dangerous Situations” and merge combat, chases, etc. into one thing rather than splitting it up and having it in a bunch of different chapters.

Made it so that the Speed mechanic works with Theater of the Mind as well, and removed that other awkward mechanic with rolling Athletics for how many turns it takes for a character to cross a large distance. 

Complete restructure of the way the mechanics for movement and action are explained, as well as defining things as both Movements and Actions. 

Created a Chapter 2.5. In the future when we are ready to shift the chapter numbers, Chapter 2.5 will become the new Chapter 3 and the current Chapter 3 will become Chapter 4. Chapter 2.5 currently houses the statistics of weapons and other combat items. The plan is that a first-time reader will read the weapon statistics in Chapter 2.5 before they read the combat rules in Chapter 3, which will inform the way they understand Chapter 3. 

Changed damage value and special attributes of pepper spray. 

Made brass knuckles do 1 penetrative damage. 

Made stun guns do 2 superficial damage.

Made it so that bulletproof vests do protect against 1-damage weapons. 

Moved and rearranged like everything from chapters 3-6. 

Close range bonus for guns is now +2 instead of +1

Simplified Stopping Power rules (the actual way it works has not changed, we just rewrote it so that it gives the same mechanics in like a tenth of the word count)

Separated open-faced helmets and full-face helmets, and made it so that wearing a helmet along with body armor gives a -1 penalty to incoming attack rolls. 

“Single Load” is now called “Internal Magazines”

Shotguns at extremely close range now have similar stopping power to a rifle, but at 5-10 yards they still have their double stopping power. 

Changed how Rate of Fire works for guns. Just making it a number instead of distinct actions. 

Made it so that Quick Cycling affects basically all guns except automatics, meaning characters with high Firearms skill can now fire semi-automatic pistols at 3 bullets per Action.

Streamlined Stabilization. It is no-longer a roll and instead a penalty that worsens the more bullets are being fired at once. 

Made Bipods give +2 Contextual bonus instead of +1 to single stationary targets.

Changed Reactions and made them more broadly applicable and usable as a rule.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overhauled Grabs, Throws, Holds, and Escapes to make them a viable option in a lot more scenarios.

Defined “On the Ground” and made it its own section.

Made knock out blows and throws ignore Armor. Knock-out blows are still somewhat penalized by helmets.

Added A Real John Woo Film Optional Rule

More art has been added

Hastily updated the random chase obstacle tables for the new Movement/Action system.

Updated the example obstacles to be more in line with how we designed obstacles for the obstacle tables. 

Redid how Poison works. We meant to make it less convoluted but accidentally made it more granular instead. We did write it better so it will at least feel less convoluted. 

CHAPTER 4

Merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 5

merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 6

merged this chapter with chapter 3

CHAPTER 7

Added “Psychological Warfare” mechanic. 

—--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 8

The Blacked Out Skill has been changed in two major ways. First we made it more obvious that the Blacked Out Skill applies even to knowledge of the supernatural that is not necessarily true. And also rather than working the way that every other Knowledge skill works, the Blacked Out Skill now gives leads to where answers might be found rather than immediate concrete answers. 

THE GORGON IS FINISHED AND FULLY PLAYABLE!

Added that Alt. Witches have to make their supernatural ability composure rolls at +0 instead of +3. The +3 was a typo.

Started work on the complete monster overhaul.

Vampires have been completely rewritten. Most of their abilities and themes are the same, but the way the abilities work has been overhauled and improved in many cases, as well as now being formatted and structured in a sane and easily-referenceable way. 

More art has been added. 

Changed the +2 Contextual Close Combat bonus for the Werewolf Trait to a +1 Base Bonus

Wolfmen have been completely rewritten. Most of their abilities and themes are the same, but the way the abilities work has been overhauled and improved in many cases, as well as now being formatted and structured in a sane and easily-referenceable way. 

Fairytale Witch is currently being rewritten/overhauled. 

Changed Incredible Strength Mage Trait to have a +2 Close Combat bonus instead of +3.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarified that gorgon blood does not heal gorgons.

Changed the way that monsters interact with Composure and their Tiers of Fear during the act of preying on other people. Instead of just ignoring it or having a bonus (i somehow left both of those conflicting rules in and no one told me), a relevant Composure roll is still made when a monster eats someone, but they do not lose Composure points from it even in the event of Partial Success or Failure. This keeps the narrative benefit of a Composure roll to show the monster’s emotional state, but without making hunting numerically pointless.

Finished the complete fairytale witch overhaul. 

Made the Close Combat bonus for superhuman strength be just +1 for the vast majority of instances. The only exception is wolfman forms. They get a higher Close Combat bonus because their transformations actually make them bigger and taller and this helps a lot in Close Combat.

Reduced Athletics bonus of Incredible Strength trait to +2. 

Merged the Alt. Witch with Mage, and made Mage a Misc. supernatural category instead of its own separate thing. This is going to be a really messy transition for chapter 8 so please bear with us. I am making a brief run though the chapter to clean up the biggest discrepancies this change creates, but I probably won’t get them all until the editor and I have time to actually go through and copy-edit it. 

“Mage” is now its own trait, and what were previously called “mage traits” are now called “mage powers”. Mages now have between 1 and 6 mage powers as part of their mage trait, with worse composure rolls the more powers they have. 

When they engage in their True Nature, monsters now have a chance to recoup some or all of the Composure they lost as a result of using their powers to hunt prey. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fully overhauled the fairy rules. Just one more monster to overhaul! Woo! 

Changed the Curse of Slumber to take effect the next time the victim falls asleep rather than knocking them out spontaneously.

Overhauled the changeling rules to go along with the overhauled fairy rules. 

Clarified something about the vampire’s In Lizard Fashion ability, they wouldnt be able to use this to stop a speeding truck.

Removed the hard limit on how many people a wolfman could eat at once, and also added rules for what happens if they shift to a smaller form with people in their stomach. Made similar tweaks for vampires. 

More art has been added 

Fully overhauled the Thing from Beyond, and that completes the full monster overhaul. All Monsters now consist of a single Trait, rather than needing a pair of Traits. 

Gave vampires’ “wearing the evening” ability a maximum distance of 50 yards and also it is a Movement now 

Made a few more adjustments to some of the monster sections to bring them up to date with the new Movement/Action mechanics. 

Adjusted all instances of poison in the monster sections to account for the new poison rules.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Girl At The Rock Show Part 6 -smut warning 18+

Characters: Jensen Ackles (xreader). Mac(o.c), Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: SMUT, Oral fem receiving, Oral Male receiving, Fingering, P.I.V. Unprotected sex (wrap it y'all), Language Drinking, Fluff, lmk if I forgot any

Summary: Getting dragged to that live show might have been the best thing that ever happened to you. Now you are falling. Falling fast.

Word count: 7,193 words (sorry couldn't stop)

A/N: So there's a lot bit of smut. I'm still new at it. Be nice Thank you all for the kind words and the inspiration to keep writing.🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Hope y'all enjoy it. 💗

Please don't copy my work and post it elsewhere.

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💗

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

“I’m not an expert, but you sound ready for this interview to me, sweetheart.” He looked at you with a smile as he slowed and pulled up to the gate. He leaned out to put the code in.

“I think I am. Just hopefully they like me.”

“And who wouldn’t,” he winked at you, making you smile.

You looked forward and your jaw dropped. “Holy shit Ackles, Its huge.” He smirked. “Perv.” You teased him, making him laugh. “So do you have a crazy rich person collection?”

“Is that really a thing?” He asked driving through the gate.

“I guess so.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Like art, watches, Oh Nicholas Cage has a real dinosaur skull in his backyard.”

“That would be kinda cool.”

“Freaking celebrities,” you said smiling at him. and he laughed as he lifted his head.

He whipped around the cul-de-sac, so the house was on your side. Damn this house was nice. You got out and noticed the garage. “Um 7 doors?”

“Alright. So maybe I have one crazy collection. There are 2 empty spots though, so not as bad.”

“Can I see them?”  you bit your lip.

“Absolutely.” He held his hand out, you walked over to him and laced your fingers in his. You walked over to the door. In the first spot was Baby. “you’ve met Baby.” He said as you walked past her. “Second spot is usually where the truck goes.” He said leading you through the empty space

“A Porche 911 GT3 RS?!!” You quicken your steps and hesitate to touch it. “You have a Porche 911 GT3 RS and you picked me up in a ’67 Impala?”

He chuckled. “Shhh You’ll hurt her feelings.” He mocked you

“So does the almost girlfriend get to driver her?”

He grimaced as he inhaled sharply. “I don’t know about that one.”

 Your eyes went wide “But I let you drive my Beau.”

“You got to drive Baby.”

“Well, I didn’t know I had options.” You said frantically with wild eyes. He laughed “Not fair.” You said and then pouted.

“I’ll think about it.” he teased.

You sighed. “I guess that’s better than a no.” He smiled “Bye Porche. Don’t worry I’ll drive you one day.” He chuckled. The next car was a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro. “Hey, look its Beau’s dad.”

“Quite the car enthusiast huh?” he asked.

“Got it from my pops. That man loved cars.”

He smiled “Mine too!”

The last car was a 1966 Ford Shelby Mustang GT350. “Oh, she’s pretty.”

“She was my first after baby.”

“Your crazy rich person collection is very nice.”  He grinned. “And have I told you that you look very handsome today Mr. Ackles.”

“Still thinkin about it.”

“Damnit.” You said making him laughed.

As you walked to the house you pointed at a flat part of his lawn. “Your dinosaur skull would look great right there.”

He smiled. “Or I could buy another Porsche.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? Too soon?”

“Jerk.” You raised your eyebrows and waited.

“Are you really trying to get me to call you a bitch, so you can guilt trip your way into the Porsche”

You gasped. “I would never!” you smirked. He chuckled and shook his head.

 The front porch was big with a nice seating area. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He pushed the door open and gestured for you to go. You walked in a nice sized area. Stairs going up on the left. To the right were couches on either side of the coffee table with pops of blue and grey from the throw pillows.  He took his suit jacket off and hung it on the back of the couch that was closet. “So, this is the seating area I guess you’d call it.” He started toward the doorway on the other side of the room. “You want a beer?” he turned around to you kicking off your boots and sliding them out of the way.  “Sweetheart you don’t hav.”

You put your hand up “I don’t need the ghost of my mother coming to yell at me for wearing shoes in your house.” you said with a smile. He chuckled. “But I will take that beer.”  You followed him into a gorgeous kitchen. A big bar and a nice island. All shiny stainless-steel appliances. You hopped on one of the barstools. You saw a picture of him and his family on the fridge. “Aw you guys are cute.”

He smiled as he closed the fridge. “That’s my daddy, Alan. That’s my mama, Donna. My brother, Joshua. My sister, Mackenzie. And me. That was last Christmas.”

“You guys close?”

“Super. They all still live in Texas, so we get together as much as we can.”

“Adorable.”

He smiled as he cracked open the can he got out of the fridge.  “Here.” He slid it to you. “Try that.”

You narrowed your eyes to him as you lifted the beer. You looked down at the can. “Family business beer company. Cosmic cowboy.” You lifted your brows and looked at him.

“Just try it.” You took a drink. It was pretty damn good. You could taste a layer of pine with notes of pineapple and grapefruit. You don’t know how mixed together perfectly, but it did “Well?”

“Eh.” He gave you an unamused look. “Just kidding Ackles. It’s pretty good.” He narrowed his eyes “I mean oh my god. This is the best beer I’ve ever tasted in my life.” You said with thick sarcasm

He laughed. “I know whoever thought up that recipe is a freaking genius, right?!”

You chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it’s a damn good beer.”

He shook his head with a smile and opened another can. You spun around to another seating area although this one was much bigger. You hopped off the barstool and took a couple steps. There was a huge screen hanging on the wall in front of a colossal sectional with a matching ottoman. you turned back to him. “Really a projector?” he leaned against the bar.

“That thing is badass. I just had it put in a bout a month ago. I can not wait to watch the cowboys on it. “

“Yea. Hopefully they will do better this year than last year.” He raised an eyebrow. “You gotta admit they kind of sucked last year.” 

His face went hard. “Please tell me your joking.”

“Oh, is the cowgirls a soft spot?” you teased.

He hid a smile and narrowed his eyes at you. He stepped towards you. You started to take a step back, but he lunged at you. With a small yelp he tossed you over his shoulder “Really?! This hardly seems necessary Jensen.” He started humming as he walked into the tv area, ignoring your whines. “Seriously? I’m in a freaking dress here. This is not appropriate.” He started singing  still ignoring you.” You put your elbows in his back and lifted your head. “Can you at least tell me if my ass is hanging out?” he continued singing.  You took a deep breath and exhaled through your lips letting them vibrate. You felt him chuckle. “Those slack looks good on you Mr. Ackles.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”  He said stopping in front of the sectional. “Are you done running your mouth?” he said in a playful tone.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Ok, we can finish the tour like this.” He started spinning in circles.  “So, this is the living room.”

“Ok. Stop. You win. The cowboys rule.”

 He laughed and bent over sitting you on the sofa. You caught his face with your hands before he could stand back up. A fire woke in your core when his needy lips captured yours and your hands slid up into his hair. He let out a growl as you leaned onto the couch pulling him with you, he put his hands on the back of the couch to catch his weight. Your tongue danced in anticipation as you parted your lips and waited. The fire blazed brightly at the taste of his skillful tongue. You imagined how his tongue would feel in other places and your core pulsed.

You sat up, with your mouth still on his. You put your hand on his chest and gently pushed him back as you stood up. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You smirked and gently shoved him down on the couch. He looked up at you with those shiny emeralds, You smiled as you raised your right knee and placed it on the couch beside him resting your hand on the back of the couch and slowly started to stretch the other over him. He let out another growl and grabbed your hips and pulled you down in top of him. A moan escaped your lips as his clothed shafted brushed against your thin panties. His finger tangled in your hair and pulled your mouth back down to his. His tongue instantly back on yours. Again you imagine how good his tongue would feel between your legs, your hips start to rock. He moaned and you could feel his hardness twitch through the clothes.

You gripped his hair with your fingers and pulled his head back exposing his neck. You trailed kisses up and down his neck, His breath quickened as you started to rock faster. Pants and moans filled the large room.

“Mmmm Baby…” he moaned. “You sure about this?”

You brought your lips up to his ear. You felt him twitch again as you whispered yes and took his earlobe in your lips. Lightly tugging on it with your teeth.

He let out a loud growl and lifted you as he stood, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed you and then bounced you moving his hands to your ass, then he walked through the kitchen and into the sitting area. You kissed up his neck as you lifted yourself brushing against his hardness. He groaned and suddenly your back was against the wall. His mouth devouring yours. He nuzzled his nose against yours then skimmed it across your cheek and his lips find your earlobe as he starts to roll his hips “Jensen.” you whimpered, you core pulsating with desire. You can feel the smile against your ear. He tightens his grip on your ass and spins as he starts up the stairs. You lifted to kiss his neck again.

“Sweetheart you do it again we ain’t making it to the bedroom.” He said making you giggle.

He nudged the door open with his foot and laid you down on the bed. He stepped back and flipped on the light on. A smile spread across his face as he looked you up and down, you couldn’t help but smile back. Your arms wrapped around him as he crawled on top of you, he let out a moan as he dipped his hips. Putting his lips back on yours he slid his hand up your thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps. The fire flowed through your veins when he reached your clit. You let out a moan of his name as he started circling it through your panties. His fingers dipped down, as he pushed your panties to the side. He let out a groan once he felt how wet you were for him. The fire rushes through your veins again as he slides his finger into your entrance. He moaned as you bucked your hips making his finger go deeper.  He trailed kisses down your neck as he slid a second finger into you. He started pumping his fingers and pulled your already low dress down exposing your breast. You let out a moan as he flicked your nipple with his tongue. You fill the room with moans and heavy pants. As he takes your nipple into his mouth swirling his tongue around it and speeds up the pumping of his fingers.

“Jen, Jensen.” you moan loud as you fell the knot in your stomach tighten.

“You gonna come on my fingers (y/n)?” he pumps his fingers harder and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Mmm come for me.” he curled his fingers and found you g-spot and the knot bursts making you moan out his name again, pure bliss crashing over your body. You quivered as he slowed his fingers, helping you ride out your high. He kissed your lips as he slid his fingers out, He sat up and licked your juices off them. “mmmm”

He hooked his fingers under your panties, and you lifted giving him permission. He stood up as he slides them off your feet. Gazing in your eyes his finger works the buttons on his shirt. You lick your lips leaving the bottom one in your teeth, God he was so sexy. He finished the last button, and the shirt dangled open giving you a peek at his chiseled chest and ab lines. You inhaled deeply as you drank the view in. Your eyebrow raised as he unbuckled his belt with one hand and slid it off in one quick motion throwing it across the room. He hovered over your dripping core, inhaling your sweet scent. He looked up at you with a devilish smile and wrapped his arms around your thighs.  Spreading them as he pulled your ass to the edge of the bed. He lifted your knees leaving kisses down your inner thigh and he knelt on his knees. Your walls clenched when you felt his hot breath on your dripping lips. A loud moan pulled from your lungs as he dives in lapping up your sweet juices.

“Jensen” you cry out as he swirls his togue around your clit. He moaned at the sound of his name and kept going keeping the same pace. Your fingers twisted in his hair when he put his fingers back inside you and you praised him with another moan of his name. The knot in your stomach tightened as he curled his fingers and found that sweet spot once more. You tugged at his hair as he pumps his finger faster. You start to roll your hips, and he flattened his tongue against your swollen clit letting you set the pace you want. “Babe, I’m gonna.” You cry out as you fell the knot in your stomach about to burst again.

He shoved his fingers deeper. “Mmmm come on baby” Your face scrunched as you reached your climax. Your soaked pussy clenching around his fingers. Heavy pants filled the room as he helped you ride out the high for the second time. He crawled back on top of you, a huge grin on his and his beard glistening from your cum. He wiped his mouth on his shirt and then kissed you. He lifted off you and unbuckled the belt around your waist. you sat up and lifted your arms, he slid the dress over your head and tossed it. You ran your hands up his chest and caught his shirt and continued sliding until his shoulders were bare. He jiggled his arms, and it dropped to the floor. He stood up and pulled down his slack and boxers unleashing he thick throbbing cock. He stroked his shaft as he looked at your naked body. He let out a moan as your hand slid down to your clit and you started pleasuring yourself.  

He smirked and crawled back on top of you. He kissed your lips and wrapped his arms under you. Lifting you again he walked on his knees until your head was at the pillows.

“(y/n) you 100% sure?”

You reached down and took his cock into your fingertips. He let out a moan as you slid his tip up and down your slick. You moaned together as you put the tip in your entrance and bucked your hips, making him slide into you. “Fuck.” Jensen whispered as he dipped his hip and buried himself further into you. He smiled and then kissed you as he waited for you to adjust to his size. You bucked your hips letting him know you were ready. He brought his hips back, making you moan his name again as he pushed back in. He answered you with a groan. He rested his forehead against you as he quickened his pace. You raked your nails across his back, and he lifted onto his elbows making his cock go deeper inside of you. Your walls pulsed at his husky moan of your name. Heavy pants coming from both of you as he pumped into your harder. You moaned his name as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. You breathe hitched as you neared your climax. “Baby don’t stop.” Your walls tightened around him. “Right there.”

“Come on (y/n). I wanna feel you come again.” The knot bursts once more and the bliss crashes over you again. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your walls clenching him.  Jensen buried his face in the nook of your neck as he let out a loud groan and pulled out. You bit you lip as you felt his warm cum spread on your stomach. He raised his head after he caught his breath and kissed your cheek then your lips. You smiled as he did his cute nose nuzzle. He kissed your lips again. He tried to get up, but you pulled him back down to kiss him. He kissed you and tried to get back up, but you didn’t release your hold. He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I gotta get you cleaned up.” 

“One more.” He chuckled and kissed you one more time. You let him up. You laid as still as you could and sucked your belly. Trying to keep it from running onto the bed. You heard the water turn on and then off. He can back in with warm wet wash cloth in one hand and a towel in the other. You jumped at the jolt from your warm sensation on your sensitive clit.

“Sorry.” He said with a grimace.

“It’s ok.” You watched with admiration and a smile as he made sure he got all the sticky substances off your skin. After he was done, he threw the linens toward the bathroom and walked over to his dresser. He got out a white shirt “Do you want boxers, gym shorts, or sweatpants?”

“Boxers are fine.” He took a pair out and handed the clothes to you. “Thank you.” sitting up.

He kissed your lips. “(y/n) you don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Well, I did, and I will. Get used to it Ackles.” He chuckled. He kissed you again and then walked back over to the dresser. He slid on a pair of boxers and started gathering up the clothes on the floor while you got dressed.

He came back in and laid down on his back beside you. raising his arm and putting it under his head. “I think next time we should leave your boots on.” You laughed and laid on your back beside him. He had his eyes closed. He brought his arm down around you and pulled you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest with already heavy eyelids. He kissed the top of your head. “So, I thought it over.”

“About the Porche?”

He chuckled. “Mmhm.”

“Good or bad?”

“Maybe both?”

“How? It’s either a yes which is good and the right choice. Or its no and I will cry.”

He chuckled again. “Well, there’s a condition...” you noticed his heartbeat start to race.

“Yes. Whatever it is yes.”

“Ya wanna hear what you’re signing up for first?”

“Sure.”

“I want that almost word to go away….”

“What almost.” Your heart jumped in your throat when you realized what he was saying. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Do you think it’s too soon?”

“I think other people will.”

“Fuck ‘em.” You chuckled. “I knew as soon as I saw you at the bar.”

“Oh, whatever Ackles.”

“I’m serious.” He brought his hand up and laced his fingers through yours. “I know what I want, if you no ther.”

“When did I say that?”

“I’m just sayin’ darlin’.”

You raised your head and looked at him. He opened his eyes. “You sure you want plain ol’ boring me?”

“Baby, you are far from plain and boring.”

You smiled. “Ok.”

“Ok?” the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Yes Jensen.”  A smile spread across his face exposing almost all his teeth. He grabbed you and pulled your face up to him. He kissed you passionately and then his smile returned.

You put your head back on his chest and he started humming. You took a deep breath and let it out. He started to run his fingers through your hair, and you could feel yourself dozing.

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

He woke up before his alarm went off. She was still asleep in his arms. His heart filled with joy as he replayed last night in his head.

“What time is it Ackles?” she whispered

“How’d you know I was awake?”

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

He chuckled and grabbed his phone.  “It’s 4:30”

“And how far away from my house am I?”

“About half an hour.” She sighed.

“30 more minutes.” She pleaded as she nuzzled in his chest. He smiled and rolled on his side wrapping his arm around her tightly. He felt her drift back to sleep. Alright Jensen time to be a good boyfriend. He smiled at the thought.

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

You woke up in a cold empty bed. Really? You thought disappointed, but then you smelled it. The cold air gave you goosebumps as you got out of his bed. You dipped into the closet then headed down the stairs.

“Good morning Mr. Ackles.” You said walking into the kitchen.

“Dang it. I was trying to surprise you. It’s not even 5 yet.” he said as he flipped the bacon. You walked over and kissed him on the cheek. And turned toward the coffee maker. “Hey one more.” He stuck his cheek out in your direction. He turned his head, so you were kissing his lips. “Good morning.” He said with a smile. “That’s a really nice hoodie you got there.”

“Get used to it Ackles, girlfriend gets access to any and all hoodies.” You said grabbing one of the mugs he had out and pouring coffee.

He chuckled. “Oh really? Sugar’s there he pointed and creams in the fridge.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules.” You said, opening the fridge and grabbing the creamer.  He took the rest of the bacon out of the pan, putting it on a rack with a try underneath so the grease could drip off. You stepped in front of him to grab a piece and his arms wrapped around you. You ate a couple more pieces of bacon and feed him bites here and there. “You comin’ with me to get your truck?”

“Yea Mac probably wants it out of the driveway.”

“Are you kidding? She probably already posted pictures with it.” he chuckled. He leaned back on the bar. “You full babes?” you asked.

“Yea. I was snacking with making it.”

You turned around and walked over to him. wrapping your arms around his neck, his went around your waist. “Thank you for breakfast,” you pulled his face to yours and nuzzled his nose.

“Any time sweetheart.” He said with a smile

You pulled up your gate and leaned out to punch in the code. “You alright over there?” you said as he adjusted his sweats.

“You driving a stick is pretty hot, not gonna lie.” You giggled and pulled through the gate.

You pulled up in the driveway and pulled the e-break. You sighed and got out. You waited for him in front of your car. “You know she’s gonna have a million questions, right?”

“Bring ‘em on” he said with a smile. “Are you gonna tell her about your new boyfriend.”

“Ha old news. Her and Jared swore up and down yesterday you were already my boyfriend.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you walked to the front door.

“Well good morning.” Mac yelled from the kitchen.

“Morning.” You said walking into the kitchen. Mac was standing at the counter.

“Oh. My. God.” She said “getting a look at your outfit. “I want every dirty little detail. I bet he is freaking.” You smiled and your cheeks got warm. “Like how huge are talking? Oh, I bet he gives a mean dic.

“Mornin’ Mac.” Jensen said as he walked through the doorway

“Hey Jensen.” she said embarrassed. He chuckled.

“How many pictures did you take with the truck?” you asked her as she handed you a cup of coffee.

“None.” She stuck her tongue out at you. “Coffee Jensen?”

“Sure, just black is fine.”

“So how was dinner?” she asked, handing him his coffee.

“It was amazing.

“And after dinner?’

“Even more so.”

She looked over at the clock. “Shit I gotta go. Good luck today! Even though you don’t need it.” She blew you a kiss, “Jensen always nice to see you.” she grabbed her purse. Tonight. It starts! Love you,”

“Bye Mac.” He said.

“Bye love you.” you told her.

Jensen turned to you. “So. What starts tonight?”

You raised your brows. “Take a guess.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yep. I gotta get in the shower.”

“Finally!!” he yelled making you laugh.

You wrapped a towel around you as you stepped out of the shower. You walked through the doorway to Jensen laying on your bed. You smiled.

“Ya know what I don’t get.”

“What’s that doll face?”

“Why do they put up with this bitch? If nobody in the office likes her why not kick her to the curb?”

“Because it a reality TV show. Gotta have some drama.”

“And all these girls do is run behind each other’s back sayin she said this and she said that.” He looked over to you smirking at him “what?”

“You are totally into this show.”

“I am not.”

“Ok Ackles. Whatever you say.” Said with a chuckle as you grabbed panties and a bra out of your dresser.

He licked his lips eyeing you. “so you gonna drop that towel or…”

“Are you gonna turn your head?”

“Nope. Get used to it sweetheart. Boyfriend gets access to any and all naked shots.” You narrowed your eyes at him “hey I don’t make the rules.” He smirked raising an eyebrow.

His phone started to ring. He put his hand over the back camera and answered it. “Hey buddy what’s up? How’s Odette?”

She’s asleep in the back seat. I just dropped the boys off at school.”

“Really Jensen?!” You gestured at your nakedness.

“Yea like I’d really show him. I love him, but not that much.” Jensen chuckled. “Is she feeling any better?”

“Not really. She keeps saying he ear hurts. He fever did break last night. You want me to let you go?” He noticed Jensen not paying attention.

“I’m listening to you. Her ear hurts and he fever broke last night.” He didn’t look away from you as you out your bra and panties on.

“What are you watching?”

“(y/n) is getting ready for her interview.” You stepped into your skirt and found a nice top in your closet. You ran into Mac’s room to grab the shoes she said you could borrow.

“Oh, so we are changing in front of each other now?”

Jensen looked at the phone and gave Jared a shy smile. Jared raised his eyebrows. “What time is her interview?”

“8:30.”

You looked at your watch as you walked back into your room. It was 7:35 “ I have to leave in 10 mins.”

“It only takes 20 minutes to get there.”

“I want to be early.”

“25 minutes earlier?”

“There could be traffic or a wreck or I could get lost. There are many things that could go wrong and knowing my luck will go wrong. Better to be prepared Ackles.” Your walked back into your bathroom twisting you hair into a classy bun .

“Yea Ackles. Jeez.” Jared chimed in “Hey My mama said she would watch Odette for a while if you wanna get a coffee before you leave.”

“Always down for coffee with Padalecki.” Text me when you get back in town and we’ll meet up.”

“Sounds good.  Good luck (y/n)!!

“Thanks Jared.” You yelled from the bathroom.

“Love you. Jay.”

“Love you more.” He hung up

“You two are adorable.”

“Shush.” He teased.

You took a deep breath and headed for the door. Jensen followed

Stopping at the driveway you turned to him with your lips out. He chuckled and kissed you.

“Good luck.” Another peck. “Not that.” Another. “You need it.” And another. “Call me after?” you nodded and he kissed putting his hand on your cheek this time.

“Bye Mr. Ackles.” You said with a smile as both of you walked to your driver’s doors.

He chuckled again “Bye baby.”

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{} Jensen’s P.O.V {}

Jensen was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when he heard his phone ring he grabbed it off the sink  “Hey Padalecki.”

“What’s up man?” Jared asked.

“Nothin’ finishing my shower.”

“Oh, do you have company in that shower?”

“Funny. You know she’s at her interview.”

Jared laughed. “Would it be easier for me to come there?”

“Well depends. Where you at?”

“Coming back in on 275.”

“Yeah, just come here and we can take one car.”

“Alright I’ll be there in a minute.”

“K.” Jensen replied and Jared ended the call.

“Yo.” Jensen heard Jared yell.

“Bedroom.” Jensen yelled back,

“Ackles!”

“What’s up man?”

“I’m more interested in what’s up with you.”

Jensen chuckled. “So, we made it official.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen nodded with a grin. “Not surprising.” Jared walked over to the dresser and sat on top of it. Jensen grinned. “Was it before or after?” he asked. Jensen furrowed his brow. “Jensen, I have known you for a very long time. You think I don’t know what’s behind that grin? Why do you think I’m sitting here?”

“Shut up.” Jensen said with pink cheeks.

Jare smiled .  “So, she didn’t think it was too soon?”

“She mentioned it, but she said she didn’t think so. She was worried other people would think so.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

Jared bounced up and down. “I’m so excited and happy for you dude.”

“Please don’t break my dresser. You don’t need to replace anything else in this house.”

“I haven’t broken that much of your stuff.” As he hopped down.

Jensen raised his eyebrows. “You wanna go over the list?” he asked slipping on his boots.

“No.  I wanna hear more about your girlfriend.” Jared teased as they walked out of the room. Jensen rolled his eyes “In all seriousness though I am really happy for you.  She seems like a good catch. “

“Thanks man. I think so.”  He said walking grabbing the laundry bag and walking out the door.

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“Alright J.P What do you need?” Jared pulled out his phone and opened his notes. “Oh, you have a list?”

“Yeah, Gen makes me type one out now.”

“Yeah, I would too if I was her.” Jensen’s phone started to ring. His face lit up. He hit the green icon. “Hey beautiful, how’d it go?” He gestured for Jared to take the cart.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Are you really trying to pull a Joey Tribbiani on me right now?”

“Damnit.” He could hear her sigh, and he chuckled. “It was amazing. They offered me the job on the spot. I start the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl. See you had nothing to worry about.”

“Whatcha doin?”

“At target with Jared. Grabbing a few things for my flight. Gen asked him to pick some stuff up for the house.” He followed behind Jared. “What are you doing?”

“Heading back to my place to get some jeans.”

“Meet us at my place after?”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

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{} Reader’s P.O.V {}

She pulled up to the gate. “Call Ackles” she said as she pushed the voice commend button on her steering wheel.

“What’s wrong?” Jensen answered the phone.

“Nothing’s wrong I just can’t get in.”

He told you the gate key as you punched it in. “Thanks

“No prob.” She hung up.

“In Here.” Jensen yelled as you shut the door. You kicked your boots off and followed his voice.

You cover your mouth and let out a belly laugh when you see selling sunset projecting on his wall. You caught your breath. “You have Padalecki watching it now too? I’m sorry buddy.”

“I hate it, but I can’t stop watching it. Why?!”

You and Jensen laughed. “Hey Ackles, I’m stealing some chips.”

“You can have whatever you want.” Jensen got up. “You want anything man?”

“No. I’m good.”

Jensen walked into the kitchen and noticed his clothes folded neatly on the counter, along with his hoodie. “What’s this? You’re not gonna hold my hoodie hostage?”

“Or did I just bring it back to spray cologne on it?” He smiled. “Don’t let me forget my dress when we leave. K?”

“It’s already at the dry cleaners.” He stuck his tongue out. “I can do nice things too.” You turned to put the chips away. He stepped towards you, when you turned back around, to him holding an arrangement of flowers in a vase. “Congrats on the job.” He kissed your cheek.

Your eyes started to water. “Thank you, they are beautiful.” You kissed him. You sat the vase on his counter.

“You guys are just the cutest!” Jared said, you shook your head and smiled. You both joined him on the couch. You watched and giggled when the boys started bitching about the show.

Jared looked at his watch. “I gotta go get the baby and get her to the doctor.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Jensen said as he got up and followed his friend.

You paused the show and stretched out on the sectional. You could hear him running back into the living room. He jumped on top of you making you giggle. He kissed you cheek then your lips then your forehead. Then your other cheek then your lips again. He started to raise his upper body, but you stopped him wrapping your arms around his neck, you brought his lips back down to yours weaving them together. He growled when you pushed your tongue into his mouth. You took his hat off and tossed it, his hair tickled as it fell into your face. You whimpered as he dipped his hips rubbing his hardness against you. He trailed kisses across your cheek and down your neck mixing them with little nibbles, you grinded against him making him growl again. His hand slid up in your t-shirt and found your bra-covered breast, you moan as he started to caress it. His lips found yours again and he shoved his tongue inside them making the fire radiate through your core. He tucked his arm behind you searching for your bras clasp. He unhooked it and sat you up. your arms lifted and he slid your shirt over your head. He guided you back down with his mouth on yours. Then started trailing kisses but didn’t stop at your neck this time. He stopped at the top of your breast sucking down on the sensitive skin. A small gasp left your lips when he grazed it with his teeth. You could feel the area starting to bruise. “Really Jensen?” He pulled away admiring his work he gave you a wicked grin. He dragged his tongue from the sore area down to your nipple. Making you gasp again as he started to flick his tongue against it. You grinded against him trying to find some release for your pulsating center.

“Mmmmm someone’s a bit impatient.” His hand crushed against your hip holding them down. You let out a frustrated moan and he flashed that grin again. He bit his lip as he watched you squirm. He brought his mouth down to you other nipple and took it in his teeth as his fingers started stimulating your clit through your jeans. “Fuck Jensen.” You felt him smile again. He swirled his tongue as he quickened his fingers. Your heavy pants and moaned filled the air as you felt the knot tightening again. He stopped and sat up. He unbuckled your jeans and slid both of your bottoms off. No teasing this time he dove right in. Making you arch your back and moan his name loudly. The knot tightened and tightened as he lapped at your clit. He slid his fingers in your entrance and started pumping them. “Baby,” your walls clenched his fingers tight letting him know you were close. He curled them and the knot bursts as soon as he found it. He sat up and slowed his pumping as the bliss flowed through your veins. “I love making you cum.”

You smiled at him. “I love the way you make me cum.” You said sitting up and grabbing his shirt, he lifted his arms, and you pulled it over his head. He stood up unbuttoning his pants and pulled both of his bottoms down. You pushed off the couch and stood in front of him taking his throbbing cock into your hand. A grunt escaped his throat as you started pumping his shaft. His eyes went wide as you kneeled.  

Your mouth watered with eagerness to taste his cock as you rubbed his tip on your lips. You stroked him with your hand. “Mmm Baby” he twitched at you took him in your mouth, but just barely. You started sucking, taking more and more and of him as your head moved towards his body. “Fuck (y/n)” he moaned as he reached your throat. You looked up to find his green eyes looking back. Brighter than you’ve ever seen them. You bobbed your head slowly and as your pace sped up so did his panting. You wrapped your hands around the back of your thighs and gave him permission. His hands gripped your hair as he thrusted in and out of you mouth “Fuck baby.” You sucked harder. “Baby. I’m gonna cum.” He tried to pull out of your mouth, but your wrapped hands stopped him and pulled him deeper into your mouth. With a loud groan you felt his salty goodness trickle down your throat. His hands slid to your face as you stood up and his mouth was on yours. You turned him and shoved him down on the couch. You sat down straddling him and sinking down on his hardness you both let out a moan. You leaned on him and started bouncing. He smacked your ass as you rode him. fire flowing through your veins. The knot in your stomach started to tighten as he stood lifting you up and laid you on the ottoman. You moaned loudly as he slammed back into you. He thrust hard and fast “Fuck Jensen...” The knot got tighter and tighter. “I’m gonna come.” He pushed deeper making the knot in your stomach bursts harder than you’ve ever felt. He let out a loud groan as your walls pulsated around him. He pulled out and tried to catch his cum in his hand. He managed. To catch most of it. You lay back and tried to catch your breath.

“Gimme a second Baby.” He hurried to the sink, and you giggled. You heard the water run as he washed his hands. He came back in and laid down beside you on his back. You rolled over and put your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head. “That was fucking amazing.” You nodded. “You ok darlin’?” You nodded. He chuckled and started playing with your hair.

You woke up in a panic. “Jensen! What time is it?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been watching the clock.” He said. “You only dozed for about 20 minutes.”

You sat up. “So, what’s a girl got to do to get some coffee around here?” He chuckled.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Your stomach ached as he drove Beau to the airport. He had your hand in his lap, fingers laced.  He sang along with Texas Tornado as it played through your speakers.

“You know you have to call and sing to me every day, right?”

He chuckled. “I can do that.” Your hand stayed on his thigh as he downshifted for the light. You leaned on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head. “It has to be a facetime though. I like the way you look at me when I sing.”

“Deal.” The light turned and he turned into the airport. You sighed as he parked and leaned his head against yours. “You ready Ackles?”

“No.” he sighed. “Hopefully we get done early.”

“Hopefully.” You agreed.

He raised his head and reached for the door handle. You lifted off him and reached for your own. You got out and waited for him at the front of the car. “You, ok?”

“Yea. Something fell out.”  He walked up to you. “Wanna walk me to the gate?”

“Are you kidding? I will take all the Jensen Ackles time I can get.”

“Grab your I.D.” you grabbed it and walked with him through the parking lot hand in hand.

You went through all the Transportation Security Administration screening procedures and walked fingers laced his gate. You took a deep breath and let it out. “2 weeks Ackles. What are you gonna do without me for 2 whole weeks?” you smiled. He laughed lifting his head.

“I don’t know darlin’.” He wrapped his arms around you. “I’m gonna miss the shit out of you.”

You laughed. “Same.”

“Oh, shit I forgot.” He got his phone out and sent you 3 contacts from his phone. “Jared, Steve, and Gen. Don’t worry, I already talked to them, and they are happy to help with anything or hang out or whatever. They told me to tell you not to hesitate to call or text.”

“You don’t.”

“It would make me feel better if I did.”

“Ok. Thank you.”  He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips. “Have a good flight. Let me know when you get there.”

“I promise.” He kissed you again and then nuzzled your nose. Then you heard the last boarding call for his flight. He kissed your forehead and then your lips. He turned and started to walk away. “Bye Mr. Ackles.”

He smiled. “Bye Baby.”

He walked up to the doors and handed them all his paperwork. He turned around and blew you a kiss. You blew one back and he walked through the doors.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[gamerbot-22]

Touchstarved LIs as Study Buddies

Because when I was studying for my macroeconomics final the only way I survived was imagining a rotating cast of blorbos helping me out (I got a 70% btw)

Recommended Listening: Zelda & Chill Trilogy

TW/CWs: Potential Accidental Canon Deviancy, not proofread.

Can be read as romantic or platonic, whatever floats your boat! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Special thanks to @asexual-abomination for helping with Lea and Mhin <3

🕊️ Kuras

You two will study and do nothing else.

Okay, not exactly, but it’s 90% study with a couple mental breaks tossed in to keep your mind sharp.

And you can bet your ass he’s making sure you’re drinking water and getting some good brain food in you (good luck with his cooking lol)

He’s not big on the idea of pulling all-nighters, but if it’s a necessity (say, you’re cramming,) he’ll turn into something of a spotter, making sure that you stay sane and make the most of the time you have before you eventually conk out.

Has anyone here seen Elementary? There’s a scene early in the series where Watson helps Sherlock stay awake by showing him how to do squats to get his blood pumping. Kuras does the same.

Also he’s making flashcards! Unironically I think this is a highlight for him.

His Best Subject is obviously any kind of Biological Science, but I think he’s also really good for History.

🪄 Leander

He’s good at studying on his own, but the second he’s in a Buddy System he just starts doing. The Most.

I’m talking like an hour and a half at least of set up where he’s getting drinks and snacks and a nest of pillows and blankets set up so your backs don’t get sore hunched over a table.

Lowkey I think he’s trying to be The Study Buddy Ever for you, but he doesn’t quite clock that all the prep work is eating into your study time and while that can be okay if the test isn’t pressing, if you’re cramming it’s a problem.

Once he’s settled though, he’s actually really helpful.

Very “there’s no stupid questions!” about it all, and will work with you to make sure you’ve got it all down.

Every magician worth his salt knows how to study, damnit, he’s just a social himbo.

His best subjects I think are Psychology and Social Studies. He’s a People Person.

🦊 Vere

He’s either not helping even a little bit by not showing up or not helping even a little bit by being a distraction.

He is bored off his ass almost the entire time, and he will make it your problem by just going on the most random of tangents after he’s done complaining.

And failing that, he’ll just go take a big nap somewhere.

He just curls right up and goes to snoozeville for like an hour before waking up and going “you’re STILL at it???”

If you want him to engage with you—or even just stick around, really—you’re going to have to bribe him in some way or another.

Of course he asks for the most out of pocket shit but tbh I think if you’ve got good snacks and something cozy he’ll just take it as a break.

Generally though he’s very much just doing his own thing while you study, it’s barely beneficial to either of you.

Except sometimes you talk at him while he draws you mayhaps…

It’s canon that he’s really artistically talented so I think his Best Subjects are Art and Literature. Those are the two things you have any hope of getting help from him on.

⛩️ Ais

Ais also takes some convincing to come around and help, tbh—

He doesn’t strike me as a guy that really studies, not just because of his personality but because he’s literally part of a Hivemind I’m pretty certain he can just ping for information if he really needs it.

But once he’s gotten settled he’s actually a surprisingly good rubber duck, letting you talk at him about theory and formula while he pokes around your space.

Like Vere, I think he naps if he’s not directly involved but he a) usually gives a head’s up but b) ends up snoring really loud which makes studying a nightmare.

Sometimes he’ll actually pay attention—maybe even leaning over the back of your chair to read over your shoulder sometimes—and you find out he’s really good at actually taking a look at a concept and Getting It really fast.

Just… don’t ask him to explain it to you.

That’s a different skill set that I don’t think he quite has off the bat.

Surprisingly maybe I think his Best Subject is Math/Arithmetic. There’s just something about how cut and dry the formulas are that make it click for him really well. Also lowkey good at Biology, specifically the behavioral side of Animal Biology.

🪡 Mhin

Good Fucking Luck

Genuinely, I don’t think Mhin has either the patience or the social bandwidth to be a decent study partner.

The best you’re getting out of them is someone who’s leading by example.

Mhin will get their own book, sit next to you, and read. And if you make any kind of noise or significant disturbance, they’ll grumble or nudge your chair to tell you to be quiet.

You can ask them to help with review questions if you want, but I think unless it’s something they already know, don’t expect any type of feedback outside of eye contact.

If it’s a regular thing and you get the chance to get used to each other, they might occasionally mention stuff in their own reading that they find interesting/you might find interesting, but generally it’s few and far between.

Just because they’re not really helping doesn’t mean they want to be a distraction, unlike some…

Like Kuras, I think Mhin is really good at Science, specifically Anatomy, but they also have a bit of a soft spot for Poetry and Strategy.

[winterrrnight]

heyy, so, it’s pride day so i was thinking a if u could do a drew/rafe imagine where the female reader is bi so he supports his girl when ppl talk shit about her

ohhh I love this so much!! I decided to go with my man drew 🤭 unfortunately this isn’t coming out on pride day, but I did manage to squeeze it in before pride month ends :) thank you so so much for your request anon, I would love to hear your views on it!! <3

here to stay

PAIRING: drew starkey x fem!bisexual!reader

SUMMARY: you experience inner turmoil when pictures of your ex-girlfriend and you resurface the internet, but it seems like you forgot Drew will always defend you no matter what.

WARNINGS: homophobia; hate comments on reader on social media and in public; one mentiom of y/n; usage of nicknames like baby and bubs; soft and sweetheart Drew; kinda toxic fandom 🫢

EDITH SPEAKS: before I got this request, I read a random charles leclerc smau that was on my dash which goes along similar lines of this request, so I have taken inspiration from that fic for this request! the credit goes to @lewisvinga and their fic ‘the only thing that matters’.

if you liked reading this, please reblog and share any feedback you may have 💐 i hope everyone had a beautiful pride month, you all are absolutely lovely 💗

AND AND AND I am dedicating this fic to the beautiful beautiful @runningfrom2am who is literally my bestest friend on this planet <3 today marks one whole year to our friendship, and words fall short to explain how much I love and appreciate her 🫶🏼🥹 I love you so so much raye, thank you for sticking with me always 💗

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You usually never do this.

‘This’ involves scrolling through social media and reaching the bottom of a pit dug so deep you’ve lost the measurement of its depth.

Some pictures of you and your ex-girlfriend from over four years ago from your college days resurfaced. You don’t know how that happened, considering how you and your ex-girlfriend always only had private socials back then, and you weren’t known for being associated with any sort of celebrity at all.

Unlike now, when you are known as Outer Banks actor Drew Starkey’s girlfriend. Drew Starkey: one of the emerging faces in Hollywood. He seems to be gaining more and more traction each day, especially leading up to the release of his movie ‘Queer’.

With his ever increasing fame, you are also becoming more and more well known. You and Drew don’t have a secret relationship, but it’s quite private. Firstly Drew isn’t active on his socials, and secondly, you’re only seen when you are Drew’s plus one for the different events he’s invited to.

Due to such scarce presence on social media and in real life, each time you and him are spotted, even a single photo tends to go extremely viral in Drew’s fandom. Headlines like‘Rare: Drew Starkey seen with his girlfriend on the streets of Paris’, ‘Drew and his girlfriend seen getting cozy in a snug Parisian café’ etc. get extremely common, and informal captions like ‘oh my godddddd drew and his girlfriend! so cute’, ‘drew and y/n spotted drew and y/n spotted drew and y/n spotted’ are also just as common.

As much as you adore Drew and his dedication to his art, you still aren’t used to the microscopic attention you get each time you and him are seen together. You feel like you’re being judged by every single eye, and they aren’t essentially thinking the best things regarding you.

Even though what you mostly see are sweet comments complimenting you and Drew, a hate comment or two does sneak its way in among the positive ones, which doesn’t essentially surprise you because you know fandoms tend to get possessive over their idols; and Drew’s fandom isn’t any different. You’ve learnt to accept it and ignore it, even though sometimes it does nag you in the back of your mind, Drew always helps you feel better and helps to get your mind off them until you practically forget you ever even read them.

But this time, this time, you fear the situation is a little out of hand.

With the photos resurfacing and the source being entirely anonymous, you aren’t seeing the best comments under the pictures. Some fans have dug so far in your life to figure out you’ve only dated girls before Drew, creating the assumption you’re actually a lesbian. Some claim you’re with Drew for his money, because your dating history is only girls, and it’s “weird” now that you’re with a man. Some claim you as a toxic partner, and say you have Drew completely fooled. You even saw a few ‘savedrew’ hashtags in the comments, but thank goodness it didn’t end up becoming an active trend.

Due to the privacy of your relationship, you never came out publicly that you’re bisexual, but your friends and family, and Drew, are fully aware about your sexuality because you are completely out to them. Drew has always appreciated you the same, before he knew you were bisexual and after he knew you were bisexual. His love for you was never impacted by your coming out, and he knows it never will.

You shut your phone and keep it aside, taking a deep, shaky breath as you look up at the ceiling of your shared hotel room with Drew. You can feel a few tears stinging the corners of your eyes, and you let your eyelids fall shut, the small tears silently starting to roll down your cheeks.

Your blurry vision trains over to the closed bathroom door from where you can hear the shower running, knowing Drew is getting ready for your night out with him. You both are in Italy as a simple vacation before Drew has to go back to LA and begin working on some upcoming projects, and it’s your first night in the country, for which you’ve decided to have authentic Italian gelato as an after dinner treat.

You can practically hear the comments you have read in your head, all of them getting progressively worse. You know you aren’t using Drew for his money, and Drew knows that too, yet the comments and watching an entire fandom side against you was starting to get to you.

Your thoughts are cut through smoothly when you hear Drew stepping out of the washroom after his shower, a towel tied neatly around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks you sweetly as he gets some clothes to wear.

You nod at him and watch him finish getting ready for your little night out as you sit there, pushing the ugly comments as far as you can in your head.

Drew gets ready in a few minutes and you both leave your hotel, walking out on the cobblestoned streets of the beautiful city, letting the streetlights and lamp posts enlighten your path for you.

You both walk in silence with your hand perfectly intertwined with his, your gaze fixed down at your shoes and the way they clack against the cobblestones. Drew notices you being quieter than usual, and he feels tempted to ask you what’s on your mind, because the last thing he ever wants to see is you feeling sad or bothered by something in any sort of way.

But before Drew can even think of acting on his thoughts, you both are forced to turn your heads around when you hear shouts of Drew’s names being called. Your eyes fall on a group of youngsters, and the moment they grab Drew’s attention, they yell out more sounds of excitement, ushering over to him.

He laughs affectionately when he’s surrounded by the small group of the fans, causing you to be pushed just a little to the side; something you’ve gotten the hang of because you know the fans are essentially here to see him, and not you. So you decide to take a couple steps back and watch Drew interact patiently with everyone, letting them take pictures and videos with him as he talks and signs their shirts, books etc. for them.

You can see a young girl and a boy from the group constantly giving you a side eye as you decide to distract yourself with your phone after you take a picture or two of Drew meeting the group. You can’t lie, the side eyes seem quite judge-y to you and you feel yourself fidgeting under their gaze.

But it gets worse when they speak within themselves but it’s loud enough that you catch it, and Drew catches it.

“She’s still with him?” The girl says to the boy who just rolls his eyes.

“Drew clearly didn’t catch the message,” the boy mumbles, and your eyes dart over to Drew who was signing a girl’s cap but stopped at the words. You catch the look in his eyes; it’s the look of protectiveness, possessiveness and anger all mixing in one – a very dangerous combination to be seen in Drew’s usually warm blue eyes.

“What did you say?” Comes his voice. It’s low, monotone, and carries a very heavy drift of coldness. The sudden deep words cause everyone to fall silent, especially the boy and the girl, who’s eyes widen when they realize Drew has his gaze zeroed on them.

“N-nothing…” the boy stammers, and you can see both the girl and boy have their pulse quickening more and more with each passing second.

You can see how scared they are starting to get, and you quickly rush over to Drew’s side, your fingers curling around his bicep in that all too familiar way; the way you use when Drew gets slightly more angry than he should and is on the verge of blowing up.

This touch of yours always causes him to start to calm down, but this time, he isn’t even close to relaxing. You can see his muscles are tensing even more as he glares at the boy and the girl.

“Drew please–” you begin to speak slowly, your fingertips starting to dig into his bicep but he ignores you.

“No, I want to hear them repeat what they said.” He mutters through gritted teeth, his attention fixed on the boy and the girl. “What did you say about my girl? ‘Why is she still with me?’ Why wouldn’t she still be with me huh?”

The girl and the boy fall completely silent, and so does the entire group. They get completely nervous under Drew’s cold gaze, all of them looking any other way but at Drew or you.

“Now I don’t know what that was about,” he begins, “but I better not hear more of that bullshit alright?” His words come out disdainful, his entire body stiff as you feel his bicep tighten under your grip.

With one scoff he takes your hand which is around his bicep in his own hand and pulls you away from the group. “Come on let’s go baby,” he says, not looking even once at the group as he leads you away from them.

Once you both are out of their earshot, he turns around in a small alleyway and stops you both right there.

“Don’t listen to them bubs, please don’t,” He mumbles softly, his hand coming up to your cheek to gently caress your skin. “You know it’s all just bullshit, their jealousy is bullshit,”

You let out a soft sigh as you feel his fingers softly trail over your cheek. This is what he always tells you when you encounter the common hate you tend to get for being with him, but this time, you know it was for an entirely different reason.

“This was different Drew,” you mutter, your gaze fixed down at your shoes, your fingers fiddling with each other.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow at your words. “Different? Different how?”

You take a deep breath and exhale it out from your nose as you train your gaze up to meet his. “My old pictures with my ex-girlfriend from college resurfaced on the internet, along with my past dating history,” you whisper, “and everyone’s been saying I’m taking advantage of your money and I have you fooled because I’ve only dated girls before you, and they think I’m a lesbian,”

Drew’s eyes widen at these words escaping your lips, his fingers caressing your cheek stopping its motion. “Jesus,” he mutters, and you can see flecks of anger and rage beginning to appear in his eyes.

A small silence falls over you both as you both look in different directions, your gaze back at your shoes and his flitting around your surroundings of the alleyway, as if in deep thought.

“I’ll talk about it,” he says suddenly, causing you to look up in his eyes with a hint of confusion in your eyes. “I’ll address this on social media, I’ll say I’ve always known you’re bisexual, and that you’ve always been out, and I’ve never doubted that. This can’t go on, the last thing I want is people being homophobic to you just because you’ve only dated girls before I came in your life. You don’t deserve that baby, and I’ll fix this matter right up okay?”

You look at him with your eyes starting to widen, a thin layer of glass forming over them.

“Unless–” he says again, “you don’t want to come out to the general public?”

“No no,” you shake your head at his words, “I’m okay with that, more than okay with that,” you mumble.

Drew sighs softly as he nods, his hands trailing down your arms and finding your hips, which he gently squeezes before pulling you in a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that baby,” he whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’ll fix this first thing tomorrow you hear me? There is no way in heck I’m letting you hear more on this,”

You bury your face in his chest and close your eyes shut, a few tears making their way down your eyes and pressing against his shirt as they do so. He squeezes you closer to him when he feels your tears against his shirt, one hand coming up to slip into your hair and gently scratch your scalp.

“Thank you, Drew,” you mumble against his shirt, your voice coming out muffled.

“Don’t thank me bubs this is the least I can do,” he says softly. He gently pulls your head back from his chest, holding your face in his hands as he looks in your eyes.

“The next time you see something on social media you tell me straight away okay? Don’t hide anything from me, I’ll find a way to fix it each time,” he whispers, his thumbs caressing your cheeks to wipe the tears.

You nod as you look back in his eyes, a look of earnest gratitude shining through them.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, letting his lips linger against your skin for a moment before looking back in your eyes. He pulls from the embrace and takes your hand, intertwining his with it firmly.

“Now come on, I believe I still have to buy you some gelato,” he says softly with a warm smile, tugging gently on your hand.

You sniff as you nod, letting him lead you out of the silent alleyway.

The post debuts on Drew’s Instagram the very next morning, a long caption along with a carousel of your favorite pictures with him throughout the years of your dating journey. The comments fill up with supporters, everyone showering you with love and loads even congratulating you for coming out to the general public. The comments and appreciation makes you smile warmly, making you realize no matter what happens, Drew will always be by your side, because he’s here to stay.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @saccharinesammie, @maybankslover, @totalswag, @madelynie, @chenslucy /

@ietss, @elle-mp3, @viawritesstuff, @wallsdreams, @mistress-amidala, @sadfury, @sage-burrow /

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@fionaswifeyy /

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter II: A Place Uncharted and Overgrown

playlist | masterlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: Careful by Paramore, 365 by Charli XCX, Hardline by Julien Baker (for half a second)

chapter tags: cocky!kinda mean!fboy!eddie, swearing, drinking, drug (weed) use, implied sexual content | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle send a message/comment to be added!

a/n: whatever is happening right now, don’t worry. it will get worse!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your voice is hoarse by the time you pull into your driveway, surely waking the neighbors as your music leaks through your cracked windows, an angry repetition of YOU CAN’T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE… You do, however, remember to crank it down before leaving your car, something future you will be thankful for.

You flick the light of your bare bones apartment on, glaring at the half your things still sitting in boxes. You keep telling yourself you’ll get to those.

Much to your discouragement, you’ve mostly accepted that Hawkins has swallowed you back into its cold and unforgiving bosom, at least for a while.

You’d left for college, obviously. Escaped to New York with a dream of becoming a published poet, a voice of the new generation. And though school was insightful, challenging, and everything you wanted; it was lonely. Art students are pretentious and judgmental, especially if you come from somewhere like Indiana. So you’d kept your head down and finished school alone, only to move back home with a useless degree, in thousands of dollars of debt, and with a brother in prison.

At least now my brother’s home, you think, trying to assuage the shame spiral. Home and as oblivious as ever, inviting Eddie to the bar.

-

You rise late, sunshine leaking into your second floor bedroom, provoking a groan from deep within your tired gut. Eddie’s here, in Hawkins. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, even longer since you’ve spoken. It leaves you with a lot of nagging questions you’re not sure you want the answers to.

You roll over, wrestling with your sheets tangled around your bare legs. You barely remember coming home, having blacked out the night with a red, angry rage that seems to have subsided with the night. You’re calmer now, almost zen.

Almost, until you remember what you’ve promised tonight. Parties aren’t usually of any concern; a few old friends and maybe a couple college kids with nothing better to do, but you dread it all the same. Eddie used to frequent Steve’s house parties to deal, even after you’d stopped speaking to him. Something about being “easy money,” he’d drunkenly explained to you once. You hope it doesn’t mean he’ll pick up the habit again, but you know deep down how naive that is.

-

“What’s the party even for?” You lean over the kitchen island to steal a chip from the bag, and Steve smacks your hand out of the way.

“Who says there has to be a reason for a party?”

“Anyone who wants to keep their house clean, for one.” Robin sneaks in from behind, snatching a handful of potato chips before Steve can catch her. “And I, for one, never agreed to hosting this party.”

“Co-hosting,” Steve reminds her, “and if you must know, it’s a party for Chris.”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” You groan, and Robin hands you a chip, as if to apologize.

“Yeah, but that was nothin’. No offense, obviously I love your mom and the bar, but, cmon, you know he wants a rager.”

You really can’t argue with that, so you divert. “And you feel responsible to throw him?”

Steve presses his lips together, unable to combat the question. “We’re friends. Plus, it gives Robin an excuse to see Nance.” The last part is barely audible, but both you and Robin catch it, locking eyes, and she blushes. Nancy Wheeler, the Hawkins Girl Next door. Robin’s been pining over her since senior year of high school, with nothing to show for it.

Robin is harder to say no to than Steve. “Ugh, fine. I have one condition if you want me at this party.

Steve crosses his arms. “Bee, I can’t just not invite him.”

You shrug. “Okay, fine. Have a good time, let me know how it goes.” You grab your coat from the rack for emphasis.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“What is your thing with him anyway?” Robin asks between munching on her chips, searching your face for a giveaway. “Like, I know he was there when Chris got cuffed, but is it really his fault your brother got caught?”

You’d never told your friends that Eddie had confessed, testified against your brother. Truthfully, you’d figured they’d find out on their own. You didn’t want to sway their opinions, you’d all been in the same friend group. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to explain the whole thing. “It’s a really, really long story that will kill the mood to tell.”

Steve huffs, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t use that to justify not inviting him.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be pissy all night.”

He cracks a smile. “Whatever keeps you entertained, dork.”

-

Steve leaves you in charge of the music, giggling to yourself as you scroll through his playlist titles: Sad Boy Autumn, Night of Clubbin’, Hot Steve Summer. You land on his Party Rock Anthems, and scroll through what Steve believes to be, according to the playlist description, “The Ultimate House Party Jams.” What a fuckin’ dweeb. The first song to play when you shuffle is 365 by Charli XCX and you can't help but burst into laughter. He’s not wrong, of course, but you can’t even slightly believe that Steve has listened to this song, let alone added it to a playlist.

“Great choice!” A voice, light as a bell, rings from behind you, and you turn to greet its owner only to be met face to face with Chrissy Cunningham. The second to last person you’d expect to know this song.

“Oh, yeah,” You stutter, unsure of how to respond. You wouldn’t call yourself a 365 party girl, especially not right now.

“You here with anyone?” Her ponytail swings as she cocks her head to the side, inspecting you.

“Uh, nah, not really. Chris is my brother, this party’s for him.”

“Oh, yeah! You’re Bee, right?”

“To some,” You laugh nervously, hating to be preceded by your brother’s reputation. “And you’re Chrissy, right? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here on a date.”

“Who’s your-“

“Hey, baby.” No. God, no fucking way. Eddie seemingly appears from nowhere, sliding his arm around Chrissy’s waist, hand playfully low on her hip. Suddenly, you’re seething, teeth clenched together and you’re convinced you can feel the beginning of a migraine. “What’s got you talkin’ to the wet blanket? Drink not strong enough?” He eyes you, amused by the way your eye twitches.

“Eddie! Be nice, this is Chris’s sister!”

Eddie scoffs at her, head thrown back. “I know, Princess. Tweety and I go way back.”

“I thought you said your name was Bee?”

You shrug. “It’s one of ‘em. Tweety, however, is not.” Not anymore, but you don’t add that part out loud.

“Whatever. C’mon, let me introduce you to the other, way less sexy Chris.” And without another glance your way, Eddie takes his girl into the backyard.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter, adding another, much less fun song to the queue.

“Okay, enough moping!” Robin snatches your phone from you just as Julien Baker’s voice starts in, quickly switching it back to Steve’s clubbing playlist. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“Only if I can get another drink first.” Your rum and coke is gone, and you’re feeling far too sober to be in the same room as Eddie, let alone his date. The thought sends chills of what you can only assume are disgust up your spine. Poor Chrissy, Eddie must have charmed her into going out with him, how else do you explain that couple? What lies did he tell her to convince her he’s a decent enough guy?

“Hey, stop seething, I can see the foam about to come out of your mouth.” Robin snaps you out of seeing red, handing you a hard cider that you pout at. “I wanted a dirty shirley.”

“And I want you alive in the morning to help me clean this place up. As the host, I win by default.”

You huff dramatically, but take the can anyway. “Can you believe Eddie convinced Chrissy to come here with him?”

Robin only shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, Beebs. I think deep down, you know that.”

You bite your tongue. It is not your place. Your personal grievances are not your friends’ problems. “Maybe, but they’re so different.”

Robin shrugs. “It was either Chrissy or—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, and when you try to meet her eyes she averts them.

“Or who, Rob?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. Hey, look! Your brother’s here!”

You cock an eyebrow at her, but she’s not budging, pointing towards the entryway where your brother is being greeted in all directions. Someone hands him a beer, while another friend sparks a joint before passing it to him. It amazes you how loved your brother is after the hell he raises, and people barely register you exist, let alone that you’re his sister.

“Hey, kiddos!” Chris breaks away from his mob of fans to greet you and Robin, embracing you both in a group hug. Luckily, your brother doesn’t give a shit about how cool the rest of Hawkins thinks you are. He offers a hand out to Steve behind you. “Thank you for putting all this together, man. Means a lot.” Robin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when Chris looks at her. “And thank you for letting him destroy your place for the night. I’ll help you with the damage in the morning.” He winks at Robin, who gives him the biggest toothy smile possible.

“Chris, man, you comin’ out? We’re playin’ beer pong.” One of Chris’s buddies, Gareth, offers him the tiny plastic ball.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man. But only if you’re on my team, I'm not losing to you and Eds at my own party.”

-

It’s three rounds before Chris and Steve convince you to play, Gareth having tapped out for the night to puke in the bushes. Eddie snickers to his cronies as you approach the table, sliding your windbreaker from your arms. For some reason, the exposure of your skin shuts him up, and you flex your fingers dramatically before plucking the ball from Steve’s hand. “You’re goin’ down, Sweetheart.” Eddie jabs his ringed pointer finger at you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He seems to notice his slip up, clearing his throat dramatically. “You gonna play, or what?”

You blink once, twice before nodding, suddenly feeling the effects of your earlier drinks. Have you eaten tonight?

You aim as well as your body allows, managing to sink the ball into the back corner cup. Your friends cheer, high diving each other before each extending a hand to you, and Eddie groans, removing the plastic before downing the cup and removing it from the lineup. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, please!” Robin scolds from beside you. “Ballsy for someone to say after losing two out of the last three.” The small crowd of gathered acquaintances chuckle, earning a weak glare from a very intoxicated Eddie before he sets up his shot, effortlessly dropping the ball into the center cup. You begrudgingly remove it, chugging the lukewarm beer while your friends cheer and boo, all in good fun.

It mostly continues like that, a neck and neck game between your team consisting of you, Chris, and Steve against Eddie, Jeff, and a very giggly Chrissy. By the end, the backyard is on a tilted axis, and only one cup remains in front of either team.

“You ready to tap yet?” Eddie taunts, though he’s been leaning over the table for the last couple rounds, arms bracing him from falling to the ground.

“You wish, Munson.” And you let it fly, but your face falls when you realize you’d been too cocky, too soon. It bounces higher than you’d anticipated, sailing right over the cup and onto the ground, everyone’s eyes glued to it. “Fuck.” Robin snickers and you snap your head to glare at her. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” You sneer, and she stifles another giggle fit.

“This is it, honey, for all the marbles.” You think he’s talking to Chrissy until he winks directly at you, the corner of his mouth pinching into a smirk. You look from him to his date to find her pouting, eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed. You raise an eyebrow, unsure how to reassure the former cheerleader.

While you’re not looking, Eddie sinks the ball. Which, let’s be honest, you knew that was coming. You roll your eyes and lift the piss flavored drink to your lips, chugging with an open throat to avoid tasting it. Your friends and brother cheer you on, and when you slam the solo cup onto the table, you let out a massive belch. Eddie’s grin has split into a toothy beam, eyes wide with wonder, penetrating your very soul. Fuckin’ weirdo.

-

When your dizziness has subsided, you find Robin on the makeshift dance floor, a drink dangerously spilling over in her hand. “Hey, grouchy!” She calls you over, beckoning with her dance moves. You play along, pretending to be roped in by her lasso. “What’s got you all frowny now?”

You shrug, shaking your hips to a song you can’t place, trying to enjoy your buzz now that you’re not seeing double. “Guess I’m taking beer pong too seriously.”

Robin snorts. “Please, when have you ever given a shit about stupid drinking games?”

“I guess since Chris is home. Wanted to impress him.” Robin eyes you, biting her lip. “What?” You pry, and when she doesn’t answer, poke her in the ribs. “Cmon, spit it out.”

“I don’t think it was Chris you were trying to impress.” She winces, awaiting an outburst that doesn’t come. Instead, you reply with a monotone “Excuse me?”

She smiles tensely, all teeth and gums. “Sorry, I call em like I see em.” Robin’s eyes slide past you, landing over your shoulder. When you snap your head to find what she’s looking at, your eyes fall on Eddie, a beer forgotten in his hand as he whispers in Chrissy’s ear. He must be hilarious, because she can’t stop fucking laughing.

“Oh, you can’t be serious. You think I'm worried about what Munson has to say about me?”

She refocuses on your face, brows furrowed. “Maybe not what he has to say, but definitely what he thinks.” You gape at her, unable to respond with something clever. She only pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

-

“Okay, everyone out. You don’t have to go home, but ya can’t stay here.” Steve is waving people out the door, thanking them for destroying his and Robin’s apartment with a tired smile on his face. Finally, shuts the door. “That everyone?”

“Uh, no. We have some stragglers.”

Steve looks around the main room, then the kitchen. “Where?”

Robin juts her thumb to Steve’s bedroom. “Sorry, man.” You stifle a giggle with a cough, throwing another beer can into the recycling bin.

“Every damn time!” Steve stomps up to the door and starts banging. “Hey, party’s over. Put your pants back on!” He throws his bedroom door open, and you and Robin peer over his shoulders like nosy children.

“Whoa!” The larger figure scrambles, throwing the duvet over their head, while the smaller one shrieks, covering her face as Steve flicks the light on.

“Oh, come on. Eddie?”

“Hi, Stevie.” He slowly emerges from the blanket. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s my room, idiot! Get out!”

“Okay, okay! Shit, I thought you wanted my help cleaning this shithole tomorrow!”

Steve huffs. “Doesn’t mean you can occupy my room and soil my sheets like this.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very clean, just had all my shots.” Steve only glares, but he gets the message across. “Okay! Damn. Sorry, Chrissy. I’ll call you, yeah?”

The girl rolls her eyes, face still cherry red. “Whatever, Eddie.” She snatches her shirt off the ground, and Steve turns to give her privacy. “Sorry, Steve. He said it was okay.” She avoids your eyes as she leaves, Eddie waving goofily behind her. Something in your chest hurts, and you chock it up to rage.

“You want sloppy seconds, Bee?”

You ignore him, and make your way back to the kitchen to rage clean. Over your shoulder, you hear your brother exclaims something, but you can’t make it out.

-

[mooishbeam]

ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎『♡』 Ode to Rue

♡ featuring: pianist!sunday x reader

♡ synopsis: In the dazzling Penacony Grand Theatre, a fallen angel known for his haunting performances captivates you with his music.

♡ wc: 3.3k+

♡ tags: slight angst but mostly fluff, sunday pianist, canon-divergent

notes: I highly recommend you listen to La Solitude during the piano scene. It was my inspiration for the fanfic. its been a while so im a little rusty, pls forgive me :( thank you all! art by snifflesmp4 on ig! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

song link (Spotify): La Solitude

The Penacony Grand Theatre hangs like a thoughtless prayer in the deep expanse of dark and starlight. Gossamer hangs from the bronze halo, tethering the theatre to the sparkling planet it threatens to ascend from. It is just as outstanding, however, covered in stained glass and benevolent sculptures, with a pair of angel wings that rise above the domed roof.  

Seeing it up close, you can barely pick up your slacked jaw. Nothing like you’ve seen before, an attraction that stands as the centerpiece of Golden Hour and commands the attention of all who encounter it. You’re reluctant to tear your eyes from the telescope, enraptured by its elegance. Still, residents walk by as though it were the dim alleyways of the Fading Echoes. The muffled voice behind you utters something you don’t quite register. Dainty layers of your cream petticoat brush against the unusually slick concrete, and you push your knees together as you squat to match the angle of the telescope. You can hardly contain your excitement.  

Because today would be the day you witness the renowned pianist in action.  

The rumors carried itself back to Belobog. You seldom cared for gossip, or the dwindling appeal to venture away from your warm manor into the bitter cold. But even the maids began to wonder.  

The talebearer tended to the kitchen as she spoke. A nameless angel, who must have descended from heaven, had been driven to madness by a catastrophe so devastating he could not prevail against it. Caught in the midst of a dying planet, he turned to music to expel the torture wracking his shattered mind. She claimed to have seen it, the room of the pianist. Walls etched with forgone prayer, a rushed and messy verbal overflow. There were said to be crosses methodically placed around those prayers, with sickening, glowering eyes that seemed to judge your every waking move. Music sheets haphazardly scattered with compositions he’d never finish, scores that could never be.  

Penacony, the planet of festivities, home to the Charmony festival. It made your eyes roll to indulge in such frivolous matters. On either end, you had no one to accompany you, and so you never attended. But the prospect of witnessing his madness in action piqued your interest, and ever since you’d been calling the theatre, hopeful for a reservation.  

The angel was unpredictable, though, sometimes choosing to cancel at the minute of his expected arrival. He was not without criticism, some enraged at his pure disregard towards the audience. After each show, he disappeared behind the curtain and left without a trace. Others said he appeared to loathe the very thought of being onstage. It made you all the more interested. To have such varying perceptions meant he had a gift far greater. To hear his genius was the highest privilege.  

A gentle chorus whispers from the hypnotic depths of the arena. “My lady.” You turn your head to face the voice, yet your eyes remain glued to the lens, as if the music will cease to exist should you avert your gaze.  

“The show will start soon.”  

You’ve taken your plush seat front row, beyond the crimson portiere and into the theatre. The seats are occupied by impatient, rather loud elite. Pocket watches and monocles, ridiculous top hats that earned a soft snort under your breath. Their attire wasn’t made for a place such as this, but you couldn’t say much yourself. It is more akin to a house of prayer than an outlet simply for singing. Decorative columns with lavish scripture rose to the ceiling where they came together at the corners to form the shape of a sun. Your eyes trail up, to the embossed medallion art of flying doves chasing the never-ending cycle of day. In the middle, an opulent chandelier dangles thousands of twinkling diamonds and dimly lit wax candles.  

“Marvelous” you gasp, panning to the stage before you. Rows of long, bronze organ pipes line the back wall, framing the massive stage. A divine glow peaks from behind the curtain, spearing slivers of warm, glimmering light.  

This space is incomparable to any opera house you’ve attended in Belobog. You feel unworthy to speak above a whisper. It’s almost sacred, crawling with benevolent structures and hymns you couldn’t decipher. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to decipher—meant to find you instead.  

You’re restless with anticipation bouncing around in your churning stomach. Its halls play a generic tune as more are seated. A million questions run through your mind. Who was he? Were the rumors true? What horrors did he see? Who was his teacher? You weren’t afforded the smallest of glimpses. Even the gaudy posters promoting the show didn’t show his face, choosing to represent him with a pair of angel wings. He must’ve declined a photo shoot. A pianist…who hated the piano? Or maybe it was the lack of tact, or genuine appreciation for the music. The pictures that received more attention for the scarcity of the show than for the soul of the symphony.  

You’re fiddling with your gown when suddenly the lights fizzle out, leaving only the meager glow of the chandelier above. Hitches, then nothing. A silent audience in the wake of a brighter stage. It reflects in your eyes, an unshakable longing reaching just behind the curtain. The same pit you felt, at the foot of a frosted cathedral on your last shred of hope; the deadly hands of a loving Aeon.  

The tableau, adorned in gold trimmings and tassels, begins to waver, and your breath tugs like molten iron in your chest. It begins to scale upwards into the cornice board, offering sight to the set.  

A simple, black piano with a stool to match takes center stage. You hear an audible sigh. A snicker. You wait, glossy eyed, infatuated by the sight. It’s truly barebones, no ball peonies or accompanying ensemble. Everything he needs awaits him. Everything he has exists on that stage.  

The spotlight casts onto the piano, spurring dust particles.  

The right curtain moves slightly. If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t have noticed the hooded angel come into view. It’s eerily quiet as the audience is hushed quickly in his presence. A few vague murmurs here and there, but nothing more. Hardly the footsteps of the angel, stepping in airy, elegant movements across the stage. Had you closed your eyes, it’d be lost to the background.  

He’s burdened by a navy hood, draped across the expanse of his laden shoulders. You can’t remove your eyes from the hovering blessing bobbing behind his head between movements. Black gloves embellished with gold and silver rings arranged so they wouldn’t clink. He walked with professionalism unexpected of just a pianist. The cloak seldom flared by his stride, though when it did, you caught the dark patterns of his boots, a garter taught on his thigh. The faintest strands of grayish blue peak from under the hood, soft and silky.  

One foot after the other, silent and orderly—comfortable with being invisible.  

As expected, he doesn’t regard the crowd. He smooths his cloak under his thighs and takes his seat in front of the piano. The minute details surrounding him worked with intent. A calculated click to his side releases a book with intricate detail, similar to his halo, with an eye on the back cover. A songbook? Notes? You can’t tell. However, the moment he places it on the rack, it fans open on its own. The front cover slams against the piano, and you’re stunned to see the pages flicking wildly, a mild radiance on the edges. The sound of paper fills the air. Then it stops.  

He brings his slender fingers to his hood, and in one fell swoop, the fabric slips away.  

The empyrean feathers of once cowered wings unfurl at the taste of newfound space. Broad, downy wings extend like a stretch, as if preparing to fly. The canary-colored spotlight enacts a seraphic air onto the pianist. Half of his face is lost to obscurity, but you still study his perfect ivory skin, drawn to subtle pinkish hues near his eyes and downturned lips. His hair spills over his shoulders, meeting with fluffy wings now comfortable on his sides. He wore an expression both content and lost, a soul far removed from the scene before it.  

Suchlike a painting you think. Whether it be the growing swell in your heart or unforeseen heat, his presence itself was breathtaking. You’ve seen art reminiscent of this in the Everwinter City Museum, oil paintings of angels in effortless beauty. Divinity just out of reach.  

His long lashes flutter for a second, and you watch his chest heave deep before expelling an extended breath. You hold yours.  

His eyes close. The audience goes deafeningly silent.  

He starts. Near machine with zero hesitation, a graceful melody waltzes to the keys summoned by lissome hands. Sweet, airy in tune as it graces the walls of the opera house.  

It evokes a childlike dream. Carefree summers, a vacation with no winter, planets with no struggle. You marvel the way his wrists roll over the keys. Refined, fluid, but commanding. Deserving of honor. His expression never changes, but his eyes—stirring with vibrance, like he was coaxing notes from the harmony itself. Captured by song, weaving a tapestry of forgotten memories.  

Still, there’s a harsh end to them, a teetering peak that keeps you on edge. Pads confidently moving under the swift turns of the music. The piano seems to come alive on its own, unbroken as the emotion pours from his veins to the object. Each high point, a reminder of a dream's eventual death, a memory lost to the throes of time.  

Suddenly, the deep clashing of the piano raises the hairs on your skin. He slams with graceful power, a note that should be out of place. It sends shivers up your spine.  

Your mind is heavy. You feel it in every sense of the melody. In the crooks of your walls, buried in the cracks where no one could see it but you. You saw him, filling your world and becoming of nothing. The knot that crumpled in your throat at the gravestones of your family, or the corners of the home you became accustomed to as you isolated yourself from the world. The tears you rarely shed for the sake of your family name, only allowing them to fall when a blizzard hammered against the windows loud enough to subdue your wails. Desperate for the kind words of anyone who’d spare a glance. You’ve tasted it countless times. A pitiful, bitter drink.  

Inexplainable, profound sorrow.  

He’s faced it, too. His wings appear stiff, flared and fire-scorn. Taut with the tension in his fingers. Alone and forgotten, dancing across the piano with such aloofness, shouldering the weight of the notes. A pause in between, and you shifted to the edge of your seat unconsciously. His fingers were methodical, searching for an answer he hadn’t fully discovered, finding belonging on the notes. This was his signature way of scribbling. There was no fated wall or room of eyes, nor the frantic manifestos of a madman. The piano was his journal—seeking meaning in the music.  

You aren’t sure what draws you to him. If it’s the chaos of his song, the unnerving focus, breathing in the melody for a second time. Wrapping himself in a sound of pure calamity, and somehow looking beatific and at peace, as if whatever he’d given up on was already somewhere underwater, out of reach and destined to drown.  

You understood now, why the audience was the most insignificant part of the performance. He played for no one. It was a a prayer to the choir, the last crumbling wish of a fallen angel.  

The crescendos landed harsh, unfinished, dying brutally in your ears. Tortured overtones ran soft, unexpected and fleeting before another crash. War across the keys, fighting a battle he wouldn’t win. On the piano there was bloodshed. And in this moment, he shares that war with you. Your eyes swelled before you could notice, splitting goosebumps across your skin.  

He throws his head back, letting his wings droop as he plays. Trailing his digits from the highest octave to the lowest, slowly closing his eyes once again. His posture reads of a Greek tragedy—falling from the sky, allowing fate to capture him or embrace the awaiting darkness. Was there anything left for an angel forsaken by an Aeon? Who could the fallen turn to for comfort?  

There’s a pit in your stomach.  

He throws both hands on the keys for the final crest, a booming sound sending vibrations through the floor. A dreams end.  

Then it’s quiet.  

His head returns to its rightful place, hanging low past his shoulders. Poised hands slump away from the piano, and the book closes to mimic.  

Hood coming up over his head in the aftermath, and he slumped away from the piano.  

He takes the book and tucks it back on his side. He stands, and the audience erupts into cheers. He flinches at the sudden noise. Pulling his hood over his head, he uses his fluffy wings to shield his face. Whistling, praises, and pleads for an encore can be heard from the whole interior. You barely hear it, muffled to the chatter around you.  

Because you’re sobbing. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision, resemblant to a small child with a scraped knee. In this noise, no one can hear you cry. It didn’t matter anymore, reputation or not. You needed to cry.  

But you swear you see it; a single tear trailing down his cheek, below his pouty lips, dropping with a shimmer. It couldn’t be a trick of the light. You find yourself staring past his wings. His eyes were Baltic amber, spiced honey with warm hints of midnight brilliance. Your heart skipped a beat.  

He steps away from the spotlight and exits just as fast, to the tragic dismay of an applauding crowd. 

He was but a stranger. Gone as he was, gone as you knew he’d be, your mind rejected it. A ridiculous impulse tests your restless legs, pushing you up out of your seat.  

You needed to know something, anything about him.  

His name.  

You’re on your feet quick, barely picking up your dress as you skip steps towards the hallway. The gem encrusted hair pin securing your updo slips to the floor when you whip your head towards the back exit. You don’t bother to go back for it. A hairpin was replaceable; this is a once in a lifetime opening.  

Pushing the exit, a fit of cold graces your shoulders. You forgot your coat in the theatre. It may be cold, but it’s not Belobog. You keep running around the end of the building, skirts picking up in the wind, a cool breeze biting your tear-stained cheeks. You stop in your tracks.  

A small boy with a head full of hair looks up at the man with a halo. You watch as the black gloves you studied carefully hand a stack of coins to the child. He flashes a gapped tooth smile, and the hand interlaces through his hair, ruffling it.  

You approach steadily. You’re clammy now. Struck with the chance, you can't formulate a string of words to save your life. The conversation shifts into focus.  

“Run along, now. It’s getting late” he says. That glacé, somber cadence stops you in your tracks. A voice befitting for an angel. The sentences elude you. You’d forgotten what you came to say. Aeon's help you.  

The child skips away, and you’re trained on him until your eyes snap back to the man now observing you. His eyes. On you.  

“Oh…um, sorry…” You can’t maintain the gaze imparted onto you. It’s much more intense without hundreds of eyes doing the same, even with his face somewhat obscured.  

“My apologies miss, was I too loud?” He asks with a courteous hand to his heart, tender voice sticking to your brain like thick pools of honey.  

You shake your head wildly “Ah, no! I’m sorry,” you hesitate, unsure if you should divulge your recent attendance. Granted, you understood how weird it may come across to search for the performer post-show, but it was too late for you to retreat. “I was just at your performance.”  

“Ah…” He pans to the floor, lashes fluttering underneath the street lamp. This version of the pianist is unsure, a confidence reserved for the stage. Then he regards you for a second, unmoving. “Was it enjoyable?”  

Enjoyable…that wasn’t it. It was suffering, a beautiful torture for those who’ve survived hell. You have to physically bite back to words, and yet they pour out of you.  

“It was lonely” you blurt, rubbing your arm to soothe your awkward disposition.  

His eyes widen briefly. You watch his flushed lips part and close. He felt human again. He, too, could be lost for words. When he doesn’t speak, you continue.  

“I am also…”  

“…going through things.” His earrings dangle in the wind, and you feel like a fool right about now for wasting his time. You manage to look everywhere but his face. Two studs on his left wing and lustrous curls meeting around his neck near a thorny choker. Such beauty should be forbidden.  

“The only way to go is forward. I hope you will do the same” he lilts. You gaze into his eyes.  

“Have you uncovered…what you’re searching for?”  

He pauses a long while, wind picking up in the space between you. You aren’t sure if he recognizes that he’s touching his book cover. “Not yet. There is a long journey ahead of me, lined with plenty more mistakes. But I’ve been given a second chance. I will do what I’ve set out to do.”  

It’s an answer enough for you. You nod, leading into a half-curtsy. He interrupts, “May I ask you…is there something you found within my music?”  

You aren’t sure. It could’ve been nothing at all. Or maybe the winter snow was worth treading, if it met unlatching from those hopeless shackles. “I don’t know. I think I’d have to find it within myself first.”  

His eyes crinkle and his lips curve into a cloying smile. The gentle undertones in his face burn rosy tonight, resembling a blooming carnation. “That’s a great answer.”  

Heat creeps upon your ears, and you look away, a slight crack in your throat. “I’m assuming you won’t play again, then? Since, your journey…”  

“Yes. That is correct.”  

Sad but not surprised, you’re grateful for this opportunity alone. “Alright, then”, you clasp your hands together, “May the Aeon’s guide you to safe planets and safer skies.”  

“You, as well” he smiles. You toy with your fingers, ashamed to ask for extra beyond this.  

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind?”  

“Sunday.” An odd name. So odd you believe it to be a lie. Nevertheless, you accept it.  

“Okay. Goodbye, Sunday.” You return a grin before turning on your heels.  

“Goodbye.”  

You’re walking back, but footsteps are coming towards you. When you look, a royal blue tweed restricts your eyesight. It binds you, heavy and warm to stave off the chill. Sunday puts the cloak over your body. He’s inches away from you, securing the tie near your neck. The light peaks behind his halo, streaks of gold aside the night kissing his delicate features. You feel his breath on your frosted nose, hot despite the air. He smells of salt and sugary pudding. Thankfully, the weather prevents your blush from being too obvious.  

“And do be careful tonight. It’s rather cold…” his voice trails off, waiting for you to catch the hint.  

“Oh! I-it’s (Y/N).”  

“It’s rather cold, (Y/N)” he puts an emphasis on your name. Each syllable, smooth and undeniably gratifying from his lips. He pulls the hood over, a finger ghosting against your cheek as he retreats. “Sweet dreams.”  

He leaves this time, never looking back.  

The ill-fitted garment about your shoulders. Heavy on your heart like a stone. You breathe into it. Salt and toffee pudding. Something blooms in its barren embrace.  

Pleasant, snug and all encompassing. Yet bittersweet. A final farewell to no destination.  

A hug. A hug is what it was.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: Happy Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can’t hear your father’s voice anymore. You stand at your door, listening for any sign of life. It’s not him you want to avoid, though he’s rarely happy to see you, but his company. You’re pretty sure they left but not entirely. You feel asleep working on your diamond art. 

You can’t wait much longer. You have to pee so bad that you can feel it in your throat. It’s late. You’re sure you’re alone. 

The door hinges scrape like they always do. You hate that noise. You tiptoe down the hall, towards the yellow blare of the kitchen light. You turn into the bathroom and shut the door. You sigh as finally you get your release. 

You flinch as you stand up and pull your elastic waistband over your hips. The hollow metal tink of a metal can sounds from outside. It could be your dad. That would make sense. He probably got up to get water or another can of beer. 

You wash your hands and go back out. You head towards your bedroom without a look in the other direction. The grizzly pronunciation of your name draws you back. Your eyes round as you scuff to a halt. 

You turn to face the burly man at the end of the hall. “Did I wake you?” Sy asks. 

You gulp and shake your head. He’s one of your dad’s coworkers from the shop. He comes over with a six-pack and they sit on the porch to enjoy it. Or they linger in the kitchen and play cards. 

As the shadows shroud him, he looks even bigger than usual. You’ve only ever seen him from a distance. Usually he’s sitting down. Maybe you just never noticed how gigantic he truly is. 

He flips on the hallway light and you blink. His dark beard adds to the squareness of his jaw and his shaved head has dark stubble in a deep peak on his forehead. His blue eyes sparkle despite his naturally fearsome posture. 

“I just got your daddy to bed,” he says. “He should be just fine. You check that he’s on his belly tomorrow morning.” 

You nod again. He does the same. He doesn’t appear frustrated as your father. He seems almost intrigued as he stays there, scratching above the collar of his tee. 

“You okay?” 

You nod. 

“Checkin’, ya know? It’s late. Dark can be scary, huh?” 

Yes, your head bobs in agreement. 

“Right, well, you have a good night. Let me know if ya need anything in the morning. I put my number on the fridge.” He taps on the door frame and turns away. 

Most of your dad’s friends or the same. They don’t pay you much mind. You prefer that. You’re not one for chatting. That fact irks your father to no end. You just stay out of his way, and his friends’, and hide in your room. 

You wait until you hear the front door. Then you go to lock it as Sy’s footsteps clamour on the porch. You stay there, his headlights shining through the window as his engine rumbles to life. The gravel crunches as he reverses out and steers off into the night. 

You go around and shut off the lights. You take your time in the kitchen tidying up the beer cans. You wipe the counters quickly and rinses the dregs off your fingers. You leave the light on so you can find your door. 

You shut yourself in and go back to bed. You leave the small lamp on next to it and turn your back to the glow. You yawn and close your eyes. 

Another night. It’s a bit sad that the best part of your day is going to sleep. Your waking hours aren’t very interesting. When you’re not doing the chores or the cooking, you’re in there, busying yourself with something meaningless. Nothing you do will ever make a difference; not for you or anyone else. 

That’s why your dad hates you so much. You can’t blame him. There’s no jobs out there for someone like you. You tried and all you got for it was embarrassment and a new slew of insults. 

You cross your arms over the top of the blankets and sigh. When you lay in your bed, you can be anything. Behind your eyelids, you can’t paint pictures more gleaming than those etched in the small plastic diamonds. You could be a princess or an actress or even just someone normal. 

What keeps you awake, isn’t your dreams. It’s the dread of the inevitable. Once you fall asleep, you’ll have to wake up again and face bitter reality. 

🩶

Your dad’s snoring rocks you through the walls. The house is small. You hear a lot more than you like. Often, you leave the old Casio radio playing on low to gloss over the cricks and cracks and groans. 

You get up, knowing better than to wait until he does first. If you have the coffee waiting, it will appease a fraction of his temper. With a hangover racking his skull, he won’t be in the best of moods. 

The dead heat of summer roils through the house. Your dad has an AC unit in his bedroom window but it’s not big enough to do much beyond his door. He keeps that closed most days anyways. On the cold days, he also keeps the small electric heater locked away with him. 

You change into a pair of loose linen capris and a plain tank top. You don’t go anywhere so you don’t dress for any occasion. Most of your clothes are akin to pajamas, or nothing more than. 

The machine is old and dingy. No matter how many times you descale it, it keeps that yellow stain in the plastic. You snap the lid shut and flip the red button so it lights up. Dad says once it stops turning on, he’ll waste money on a new one. 

You get yourself a glass of water and wait. It’s early still but his alarm won’t let him sleep in. As it goes off, you keep busy.  

There’s a slam and a grumble. Your dad stirs violently and his door hits the frame as he swings it open. He lumbers out as you pour him a mug. He belches and ignores you. You put it on the table as he turns down the hall and goes into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and you hear his stream piddle into the toilet. 

You ignore it and turn back to your task. Breakfast. It’s the same thing every day. You do his eggs, sunny side up, toasted Wonder bread, and six strips of bacon. The smell soon has your mouth watering. The chair scrapes the floor loudly as he drops into it heavily. 

He slurps loudly behind you as you put together his plate. You set it before him and he wiggles the empty mug at you. You take it and pour him another from the carafe. 

A car door snaps shut. You wince. You didn’t hear an engine, but you’d been too swept up in cooking. You give your dad his refill and go to check the front window. 

“Is it that mailman already?” He hollers. 

You shake your head, even knowing that he won’t see.  

“Don’t know why I fucking ask,” he snarls. 

You watch Sy jump out of his truck. While the axle is high, it isn’t very treacherous for a man his size. He kicks up gravel as he steps around the door and shuts it. You back away as he heads towards the house. 

He clomps up the steps, thump, thump, thump, and you jitter as he approaches the other side of the door. You wait until he knocks before you answer it. You peek out through a single inch of space. He grins. You don’t think he’s ever smiled at you. You assumed he never did at all. 

“How’s the old man?” He asks. 

You blink and let the door open a bit more and give thumbs up. As good as he’ll ever be.  

“That’s good,” he drawls. “So...” 

His eyes drift down, just a little. You squirm. Your shirt feels thinner as you stand there. Your nipple poke into the fabric and you hug yourself awkwardly. You remember you asked your father for a bra once. He laughed and you never brought it up again. You try to stick to loose clothing. 

You point over your shoulder then make a gesture as if you’re holding a fork and scooping. 

“Having breakfast, that’s nice.” 

You don’t have enough for him. You’ll wait until your dad’s at work before you sit and have your single slice of toast and peanut butter. 

“I already ate, in case ya worried,” he assures. “Was just comin’ to make sure I didn’t give him too much sauce.” 

He laughs. His booming humour makes your flinch. Your brows pop up and he quiets. 

“Sorry, I know, I’m a loud one, huh?” He snorts, “I don’t mean ta scare ya.” 

“I told ya, she don’t say shit,” your father growls into a yawn. You step back and the door opens all the way as you press yourself to the wall. He saunters forward in his boxers and tank top. “No point goin’ on like that when she probably don’t even understand.” 

“She understands me,” Sy avows confidently. “After a night with your drunk ass, it’s a breath of fresh air to have someone not yammer on.” 

“You’re the one brought me the piss,” your father retorts. 

“And you didn’t complain when I did,” he counters. “Wanted to see if ya were going to make it in today. Just in case I gotta finish up Dubeau’s clunker.” 

“I’ll be there,” your father sneers. “Why don’t you go and get it all warmed up for me?” 

“You’re a prick, Don,” Sy huffs. 

“What? No, you can’t see it,” your father covers his crotch and you blanch, looking away embarrassed. 

“Don,” Sy rebukes, “there’s a lady.” 

“It’s my daughter, dammit. She’s too stupid to get it,” he spits. “Hey, you, go on, kitchen’s a mess.” 

You nod and avoid looking at the other man out of embarrassment. Your father is crass, sometimes even at your expense. And he knows you can understand him. He must. You do everything he tells you too. 

“Well, then, I’ll see ya round,” Sy calls, though you only realise he’s talking to you as your dad changes the subject to some tail pipe. 

You stop and peek back. Sy watches you over your dad’s head. You give a wave, just a tilt of your hand, then continue into the kitchen. 

You can’t help but be thankful for the interruption. Sy’s boisterous intrusion offered a buffer between you and your dad’s hangover. You wash his plate, cutlery, and mug, before you move onto the pots and pans you used to cook. 

You can hear your dad barking outside at Sy. The other man responds with a deep rumble. Are they arguing? 

The front door swings open, “hey, girl,” you dad whistles, “more coffee. Bring some for this lump.” 

You take the order in stride. You don’t have enough for two cups, maybe half of one. You start a new pot and wait. When it’s finished, you dry your dad’s mug and pull out another. You carry both to the front door and elbow through. 

You hand one to each man as they stand by the porch railing. Your dad takes his gruffly, spilling some on your fingers, but Sy thanks you. 

“You didn’t even ask if he wanted sugar or cream,” your dad chides. You give him a startled look. He snorts. “How’d ya do that, huh? Maybe blink your eyes real big.” 

You frown at his mocking. Sy exhales and you back away. Now you have two men annoyed with you. You glance over at the bigger of the pair as he stares at you. You should’ve thought of you. Coffee is bitter, it’s why you don’t drink it. 

You point to his cup and he shakes his head, “coffee’s fine,” he insists, “I’ll have something sweet later.” You nod and retreat. You turn your back to them and step inside. Before you close the door, you hear Sy, “you know I take my coffee black, Don. No needa to give the girl a hard time.” 

You shut it before you can catch whatever snide remark your father tosses back. You know he won’t take kindly to being told what to do, especially if it’s to do with you. Or because of you. You’ll hear it all later, you’re sure. 

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter three

summary: while you and luca seek inspiration outside of the kitchen, you finally share a piece of yourself with him.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part two | masterlist | part four

It’s been a month or so since Luca’s tasting menu for one, and he’s been nothing but a good thing in your life: a friend, a collaborator, a regular diner who gives fantastic feedback. You’ve become fast friends, and after what he did for you, how could you not? You find yourself spending days off with him at a more frequent pace as of late: enjoying cups of coffee, perusing bookstores, following Luca on bicycle as he shows you the city’s lesser known, yet spectacular bakeries. He gives you a heads up when he can’t make it into the restaurant, but most Saturdays, he continues to make his regular Saturday 7 pm date week after week. 

Some days you make him something off-menu – something you’re working on, something you’re recipe testing, a dish you’ve bounced ideas around with him over – and other days he’s eager to try whatever new thing you’ve just added to your menu, insisting for you not to go through the trouble of whipping up anything else. It’s a special relationship – something only food-people can understand – and you’re glad that Luca entered your life. 

“Hey, your boyfriend’s here,” Jesper says, interrupting your dinner prep as he grabs your attention. 

“My what?” you ask him, with no clue in the world what he’s talking about. 

“Luca,” he answers plainly, as you and Mathilde both exchange a look. 

“Shut up, Jesper,” you both snap in unison, shooting a glare his way. 

You exchange another look with Mathilde, almost as if to say: you good? She nods towards the front of house as if to say: yes, I’ve got this covered. 

“Yeah, give me a second and I’ll be right out,” you finally direct towards Jesper, as you put down your knife. You reach a stopping point, wiping your hands on your apron, as you leave behind the Mikkelson twins bickering about what Jesper’s previous comment. 

Something about ‘you baby her’ from Jesper and a ‘you’re going to scare her away and this is a good thing, you idiot’ from Mathilde in return. At least that’s what you’re able to make out from your basic Danish language skills (you’re working on it, you swear, and right now you know enough to get by in the kitchen and that’s enough)!

You spot Luca with a package tucked underneath his arm as he leans up against the front door, waiting for you. 

“Hi,” you greet him, choosing to ignore the fact that your heart skips a beat as soon as you see him. 

“Hey. I was on my way to the post office around the corner. Thought I’d stop in and say hello,” he replies with that ever-charming crooked smile of his. 

“No, yeah, I-. I’m glad you did,” you return, unable to hide the smile that spreads across your lips. 

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it, especially if this is somehow something you’ve made up entirely in your head, but it seems as if Luca’s found different ways – different excuses – to stop in more and more frequently as of late. 

“What’s in the box?” you ask him, curiously, gesturing to the package he holds underneath his arm. 

“Remember that American I was telling you about? The one who came to stage?” he asks, looking down for a moment. 

“Yeah.”

“His restaurant opening is this week. Wanted to send this off. As a gift.”

“That’s kind of you.”

He blushes, just for a moment. 

“Think we’ve lost touch with the art of a handwritten note. A novelty these days,” he says, with a quick raise of both eyebrows. 

“Absolutely. I mean… it worked on me,” you chuckle, immediately regretting what’s come out of your mouth. 

You’re not sure why you said it and what exactly it is that worked on you you’re referring to, but it’s too late to take it back. 

“Yeah, I’ve got him to thank, really,” he chuckles, almost shyly. Taking a bolder approach as he continues with, “For reminding me to walk the walk. For bringing me to you.”

You pause, your heart catching in your throat. In the event of fight, flight, and freeze, it really feels like you’re choosing ‘freeze’ whenever Luca’s been around.

“I bet you’re a really great teacher,” are the words that fall out of your mouth, immediately regretting them for how silly your response sounds. 

“So was he,” he parries back. 

“Sure,” you nod, still reeling from whatever the hell came out of your mouth a moment ago. 

Your disconcerting slip-of-the-tongue seems to leave an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, tip-toeing around each other, unsure of who should make the next move. 

“Anyways,” Luca clears his throat, collecting himself. “I ehm, gotta get going. Gotta get back to the restaurant here in a few. It was good seeing you today.”

“You too,” is all you reply, frozen and stuck in your own head. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself as you watch him go. 

“Luca, wait,” you say, pushing through the front door to your restaurant as you chase after him. 

He turns back towards you, a kind of ‘did I leave something behind?’ look on his face. 

“I can’t stop thinking…” you trail off, taking a breath before you continue your sentence, leaving Luca unsure of what you’ll say next. 

“...about that dish you’re stuck on. And about what you said.. about finding inspiration. Being open to… you know, what’s out there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling at the thought of you thinking of him. 

“Yeah I… I think I have an idea,” you declare boldly. 

And it may be a baby step, but it’s a baby step towards him, towards who knows what, towards whatever’s ahead of you. 

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

You pitch the idea to Luca –  to explore different mediums of art as a way of seeking out inspiration (and maybe it’s just another excuse to see him too) – and after a few weeks of busy schedules, covering at the restaurant for coworkers-on-holiday, and lining up days off, you and Luca finally make it happen. It’s been over a year now, since the restaurant opened – and almost two since you came to Copenhagen in pursuit of a dream.

“Wait a second. So you haven’t read Rene Redzepi’s A Work In Progress?” Luca asks incredulously looking for confirmation of the obscene tidbit of information you’ve just revealed to him. 

“No,” you admit, guiltily stealing a glance his way. 

“My god, it’s fascinating! I’ll have to lend you my copy,” he charges forward, solving the problem at hand without question. 

“I’d like that,” you smile, almost to yourself as you think about how much you like being around Luca. “And I’d love to hear about your time at noma – what working under him was like.”

“Uh… that’s maybe a different story for a different time,” he deflects with a chuckle, shooting you a look. “Perhaps after a few pints.”

“Heard,” you nod in understanding, turning to him as the two of you find a good place to post up in the park. You and Luca set your lawn chairs down in Kongens Have, or rather The King’s Garden, right behind a row of other lawn chairs set up that face the tent-covered stage. 

“It’s good to see you,” you finally say, really taking him in. 

“It’s good to see you too. Sorry it’s just working out now,” Luca apologizes emphatically. 

“No, it’s okay! We uh… we’re both busy. We both run restaurants. I mean-, I’m surprised we figured it out in time for the show,” you reply, easily letting him off the hook. 

“This is pretty cool,” he says, taking in your surroundings. “First time here?”

“Yeah I-, I didn’t make it when I first moved here… and then this time last year I had just opened the restaurant so… yeah first time. You?”

“Yeah, first time,” he echoes with a reassuring nod. 

“Really? I just thought-, well, I thought Copenhagen Jazz Fest was like a huge deal here,” you inquire. 

He shrugs, responding with, “I reckon you’re a big jazz fan then, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Have you always been into it or-?” he questions curiously. 

“Uh, no. I… my ex,” you hesitate, figuring you should tell Luca sooner rather than later. “... my ex-husband is a music historian so… I got really into it when we first started seeing each other. 

He balks, only for a moment, hoping you don’t notice the strong reaction that briefly flashes across his face. 

“You were married?” he asks, barely able to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” you admit, nervously. 

He waits a beat. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks carefully, with an honesty and genuine curiosity in his voice. 

“I-I don’t mind. As long as you don’t-,” you stammer, only a little taken aback by the grace he’s shown you. 

“Please,” he encourages, listening carefully. “I like learning about you.”

You freeze for a moment, searching for where to begin, and more than anything, in awe of Luca. 

“We met right after I moved back home to Boston – right after I finished school,” you begin, watching him carefully for any kind of reaction. 

“And it was good. For a long time. But after a few years of being together, his mom got sick and uh… we both decided that we wanted to move to London so that he could help his sisters take care of her. It was just easier… if we got married… with immigration and stuff.”

“But you loved him?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I think… we knew we wanted to stay together… so we took the leap, unafraid of the fact that everything has its expiration date too. Ours just uh, came a little sooner than we expected.”

“What happened?” Luca asks. 

You chuckle dryly, racking your brain for the answer to a question you’ve asked yourself a million times. 

“Um… moving back home changed a lot, I think. And we met when we were so young that I don’t think by the time we were caring for a sick parent together, we realized we didn’t really even know who we were anymore,” you explain, putting words to a feeling that’s live in your heart for so long – long enough that you’ve barely shared them with anyone else. 

“And… I was living in a whole new country without any kind of familiarity. I was homesick, and all of it – it was just really hard on the both of us,” you think through as you speak. 

“I think it just made us realize that we had changed… and that maybe we weren’t the same people who fell in love all those years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Luca apologizes, sending you an empathetic glance. 

“It’s okay,” you’re quick to reassure him. “It was tough. Don’t get me wrong. Like… really tough. But nothing… horribly wrong happened. Some people can grow together.” You pause, only for a moment. “We didn’t. We… weren’t those people, I guess. So we grew apart.”

Luca takes a few moments to process what you’ve just told him with a pensive look on his face – and you can’t blame him. 

He waits a beat, before returning his gaze to you, a respect for you in his eyes: for your honesty, for your story, for your resilience. 

“Are you still in love with him?” he finally asks. 

It’s a good question – an interesting one – and even more interesting that he asked in the first place. 

“There are parts of me that will always love him,” you share, the vulnerability coming more naturally to you as Luca makes you feel more and more comfortable. “He’ll always be a part of me and… I still keep in touch with his family, you know. They became… my family too.” You pause, knowing that you can say this next part with full conviction:

“But to answer your question, no. I'm not… I’m not in love with him anymore.”

Luca nods slowly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind – to take it back – to say something that convinces him otherwise. But you don’t, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to help himself from giving in to things he’s been feeling for you. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked,” Luca finally says. 

“No I-,” you begin. “I’m glad you did. It feels nice… having someone ask.”

He smiles, “Like I said. I like learning about you.”

And with that, the two of you settle into your lawn chairs as the performers make their way onto the stage. There’s a shift – within the crowd, between you and Luca – as the musicians take their places, ready to perform. With the first few notes, the tuning of a guitar, a few keys on the piano, you feel yourself relax a little, encompassed by the warmth of the Copenhagen summer night. 

It’s almost as if telling Luca, sharing this with him, has lifted a weight off of your shoulders – no longer hanging over your head as you go back and forth of when to tell him, and if you should tell him, and thoughts of ‘why the hell are you worrying about this it’s not like he wants to know’. 

Except he did and he does because he wants to know you. 

And tonight, because he asked, because he’s proven to be a great listener, and because he looks so damn good doing it, you might just let him.

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

a/n: ok how the hell are we feeling now that we know a little more about reader, her past, and why she's been holding back?! i honestly wanted to write a character that felt fresh, and different from me/my make my heart surrender character SO yeah, this where we're at --second chances at love and a story about opening up again -- with more to come.

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

I am so scared for if you ever lose interest in Eddsworld 😨😨👀

I check this account almost everyday to see if you’ve uploaded and I get really excited when you do!!!

That’s all, love your art and keep up the good work!! 😁😁

thank you!!!! its so cool knowing that other people enjoy my art as much as i do :3 if you want to assist me in staying absolutely entrenched in this hyperfixation, i have one simple task for you:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!

things you like, things you want more of, speculations on intention, random observations, a string of emojis, keysmashes, etc.

in the reblogs, in the tags, in the comments, hell you can DM me if you want.

i will see it and i will appreciate the hell out of it.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Rengoku taking you on a date to some festival (like the on in my dress up darling) and watching fireworks with you + lots of fluff

Ahh this instantly reminded me of that official art I used in the cover, so cool! Please let me know what you think <3

Kyojuro Rengoku taking you on a date to a light festival

Pairing: Rengoku x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: Even though Kyojuro never saw more than a kind comrade in you, he decided to take you to the light festival he arranges every year for his beloved mother. All it takes is one evening for him to realize that you are way more than just a comrade to him...

Warnings: This is my first ever Rengoku fic so please take your time and leave a like, comment or reblog if you enjoy 🥹 fluffness overload, reader being shy, last part not proofread bc I reeaaaallyyy need to work on my university papers right now, hope you still enjoy!

One last glance in the mirror just to make sure you look alright while your heart beats out of your chest.

Finally. This is the day you’ve been waiting for since weeks. The minute none other than Kyojuro Rengoku asked you to accompany him to the yearly night festival in his hometown, you thought about it each and every day. What are you supposed to wear? Are you skilled enough to do your makeup? What if he doesn’t like you in something apart from your demon slayer uniform? It took ages to decide on a festive yukata you’ll wear, hours to do your hair decently enough. And in the end, you decided to wear no makeup at all.

“(y/n), he is awaiting you at the door”, your beloved mother gently announces into your room.

He’s there. Your fingers run over the soft fabric of your yukata frantically one last time before crossing the room and walking down the hallway.

“Oh... (y/n)”, the man at the door breathes out, eyes widen and mouth hanging open.

Huh, why is he looking at you like that? Is a stain on your yukata that you’ve missed? Is your hair already falling apart? Your mind goes blank, staring at him through doe eyes. What is wrong?

“I’m sorry for staring at you so shamelessly. It’s just…You look strikingly beautiful.”

In an instant your cheeks heat up, skin turning dark red without mercy. Did he just call you beautiful?

“Oh…Thank you so much, Rengoku-san. I really don’t deserve your praise”, you reply, bowing down in gratitude.

In the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of his festive black yukata and white cape. How is a single man able to look so elegant and breath-taking? How is it possible that he invited you to this festival right by his flamboyant side?

“May I ask you to call me Kyojuro, please? No need for formalities.”

Your heart skips a beat. Are you dreaming? This is too good to be true. Over the last few months, you worked close to him, always admiring him from afar. Officially, he was never more than a hashira, the ideal you grieved for. But when you got to know him better, when you were able to talk about anything but the demon slayer corps…There was no way out of hopelessly falling for him.

He stretches his hand out, smiling at you so widely that you forget how to breathe to a minute. Why…

Does he want you to take his hand?

“Go on, dear. Have a nice evening and stay safe.”

With a gentle push, your mother draws you closer to him, making you grab his warm hand out of instinct. Despite you went on multiple missions with him, you were never this close to him, never meeting each other in privacy. But this…

This feels like a date.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

You hold onto his arm tightly, gazing at him through widen eyes. Oh no, you’re messing it up with being so nervous. Should you tell him the truth? Or just pretend there’s nothing wrong?

“Can I be honest with you?”, you mutter, making him tilt his head in a way that makes you see stars.

“Of course, you always can!”, he shouts back in the matter of seconds.

“You know…This is the first time a man ever took me out…”, you stutter, gaze fixated on the grass underneath your feet.

His eyes dart towards your face, looking for a sign of humour in your bright orbs. But by the way you blush so deeply and how you fumble his sleeve he can tell you are serious about your words. A gorgeous woman like you was never asked out? This is impossible, this is absolutely unacceptable. He clenches his hands into fists.

Kyojuro Rengoku will make sure to make you feel special throughout the entirety of this day.

“Then I am beyond honoured to be the first one”, he replies along with a bright smile that lights up his entire face.

You smile at him widely, that cute little blush still tinting your cheeks in the most admirable way Kyojuro has ever witnessed. He never thought about asking a woman out, let alone another member of the demon slayer corps. For all these months, you were nothing but comrades, a pair that worked really well together.

Until it became more for him.

Until he couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you left long ago. Until he started to ponder about your breath-taking smile and soft hair instead of your fighting skills. Until he saw more in you than just a demon slayer.

No, you are a woman. And what a gorgeous one. Maybe Uzui was right, after all.

“So you and (y/n), huh?”

“What are you talking about, Uzui?”

“Come on man, I see the way you look at her. And I get it, she is really stunning and pretty smart on top. She’d be a great catch for you, especially for the first one.”

“The first?”, Kyojuro repeated in shock, widen eyes staring at you shamelessly.

He never planed on having a single wife in the first place. Why would Uzui suggest something so ridiculous? You are nothing but a comrade to him with your shiny eyes, strong body, and the delicate way your body moves in the sunset. And oh, your character made of pure gold, how you treat others with infinite kindness. So delicate, so lovely…

“Oh my, look at all those delicious sweets”, you cry out in excitement, arm wrapping itself around Kyojuro’s tighter.

“You never told me that you like sweets”, he replies gently.

“Would you…Would you mind getting something to eat with me? I really love sweets and here are so much of them to try.”

The way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear almost drives the flame hashira himself insane, eyes glued to your delicate frame in nothing but admiration. How did he never really notice how unmistakably lovely you are?

“Not at all, let’s get you something to eat!”

Proudly, he watches how you slowly but surely get comfortable around him, telling him everything he needs to know about your favourite sweets while your eyes sparkle in sheer excitement.

“I love chocolate as well, especially the darkest one!”

“I heard that far away, someone invented a white chocolate. White! Can you believe it? How is it even possible to make something like that? I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Someday, I will take you to find out yourself”, Kyojuro suddenly blurts out.

Your eyes dart towards him, hands completely frozen in place. Calm down, don’t freak out, tame your excitement.

“Would you really do that, Kyojuro?”

“If it makes you happy, I very gladly will!”

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Maybe your endorphins are all over the place because of all the sweet you’ve ate, maybe it is the sake that was in the pralines from earlier, but you can’t contain yourself. With a swift motion, you put the last piece of chocolate in your mouth before wrapping your arms around none other than Kyojuro Rengoku.

Kyojuro Rengoku, the man you’ve been eyeing since joining the demon slayer corps. Kyojuro Rengoku, who seemed to never see more in you than a simple friend.

Kyojuro Rengoku, who instantly wraps his strong arms around you as well.

He didn’t expect you this close to him except for training. But oh does it feel good. How did he never notice how intoxicating good you smell and how warm your body feels? How did he never notice how much smaller your hands are compared to his? And the softness of your perfectly made hair. He can’t help but wonder how long it took you to make them look this way?

You are so beautiful.

“Thank you for taking me here. I never thought you…You would do something like that with me.”

Your hot breath tickles against his neck and makes shivers run down his spine.

“Of course! After all, I really enjoy your company!”

Discretely, you return to your own seat, the slight tint of red displaying your embarrassment. Did you really just hug him? Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re a freak. Or even worse: what if he doesn’t want to work with you anymore? You’d rather adore him in the dark than not seeing him at all.

“Excuse my outbreak. I guess I got a little carried away. Oh, where are all the people going?”

Your eyes follow the multiple people around you who seem to meet up on the other end of the well-decorated village. By now, it’s already getting dark, the sun is almost completely set.

“Didn’t you know! In just a few moments, the traditional firework will start! Follow me!”

He grabs your hand. Kyojuro’s warm hand wraps itself around yours while he leads you to the crowd, an excited grin plastered on his face.

This is what he waited for, finally he is able to show you the firework. Since you’ve mentioned in a training session that you never saw a firework before, he knew he had to change it.

“Here you’ll be able to see everything.”

Kyojuro”, you breathe out, eyes roaming around the lovely area.

Despite the fact that there is a crowd of people around you, you’re standing next to him in a small pavilion, decorated all over with the most delicate flowers.

“Many of the buildings around us are owned by my family, like the pavilion we are standing in at the moment. After my mother died, I arranged this festival in her honor. She would have loved to make other humans happy by the sight of fireworks.”

Your breath hitches, heart almost overflowing with emotions. Even though he smiles at you softly, you can tell by the pained gleam in his otherwise bright orbs how much he misses his mother especially today.

“I will enjoy every second of it just like she does. I’m sure she is proud of the man you have become, Kyojuro.”

You place your hand on his, fingers intertwining as you lean your body over the railing.

“I bet she watches over you right now from afar.”

“I hope she does”, Kyojuro replies unusual calm.

Then it begins. Your eyes dart towards the sky and the play of colours that lays itself out over your head. So many colours that sparkle like stars, the burnt smell in the air. You don’t know how you imagined a firework to be, but definitely not this exciting.

But unlike you, Kyojuro isn’t able to look at the sky. No, all that he’s able to see is you and how the fireworks reflect in your widen eyes.

This. This must be what dreams are made of, the reason why Uzui is married to three women. Just the way you carry yourself is enough to drive him insane, to make his heart jump out of his chest. And especially now, he just isn’t able to resist any longer.

Before he decides against it, he wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you close with one arm resting around your waist and the other on your shoulder.

“The fireworks will never shine as bright as your eyes, (y/n).”

“K-kyojuro…”

“I love you with all my heart. All this time I thought it is nothing more than sympathy, that I see nothing more than a comrade in you. But you in that delightful kimono, your eyes shining like the stars above…It’s love, (y/n). I love you.”

Suddenly the fireworks above are out of your sight, eyes locked with Kyojuro and his slightly redden cheeks. This can’t be true, right? You dreamt countless night of him, imagined what it would feel like to lay in his arms like you do right now. Is a man like him really able to love a women like you, are you worth his time?

“I’d love to kiss you right now.”

You hold your breath, head nodding ever so slightly when his face draws closer and closer until…

Fireworks around you explode in a grand finale when he presses his lips against yours softer than you ever imagined. He feels as warm and comforting as you expected, his grasp keeping you from sinking down to the ground.

“I could watch you for a lifetime, (y/n)”, he hushes against your lips.

“You…you are way better than a firework”, you breathe out.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez

[wing-ed-thing]

Three-Man Squad Relationship Headcanons with Deidara and Sasori

Tags: No Reader Pronouns, Canon-Typical Violence, Poisoning Mentions

𓆃 It’s less like being stuck in the middle of an argument and more like being stuck in the middle of a pseudo-intellectual hell where one side clearly cares a lot more than the other

𓆃 Sure, like with all members of the Akatsuki, you might have to worry about an assassination attempt, but honestly, one of your partners killing you is the least of your worries.

𓆃 What you should worry about is the never-ending pissing match between Sasori and Deidara. Not to mention that they’re both on exact opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to interacting with you

𓆃 Deidara is the most vocal about his art and jutsu. He always wants to show you something, usually in the most annoying way possible. Whether it’s waking you up so he can put a literal bomb in your hand or just blowing micro-explosions up in your face, he can and will get your attention

𓆃 You’ll be half asleep, and Deidara will put a clay creation in your hand for you to feel the craftsmanship, and he can and will blow it up when you’re still holding it

𓆃 He actually prefers it that way

𓆃 You definitely have some sort of poisoning from the detonation

𓆃 Sasori is always tinkering with something and barely paying attention to anything you say, which would be tolerable if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s also secretly a show-off

𓆃 Sasori constantly makes snide and passive-aggressive comments, all while holding up his craftsmanship as superior. He won’t outwardly demand that you look at his work, but he will patronize you and step on your mission role to handle things himself

𓆃 It’s easier not to take sides when the bickering happens. Neither can really let it go, despite Sasori always acting like he’s above it. 

𓆃 Deidara never stops talking about art once he’s in the zone, and Sasori’s snide remarks spur him on further. Both of them are too prideful to conceed

𓆃 It’s fun playing referee for their sparring matches. Sometimes, when the conversation gets heated, the two of them fight. They fight until Deidara gets knocked out, Sasori gets bored, or they recklessly get too low on chakra

𓆃 If you’re ever in a pinch and need an assist, Deidara likes to make a big show of saving you. 

𓆃 “That’ll show you to admire my art!” “My superior artwork comes to the rescue yet again!”

𓆃 Sasori is the type to grab you by the back of your collar and drag you out of the way at close range. He thinks it’s funny to attach chakra strings to you before swooping in with his battle puppets

𓆃 In fact, he thinks it’s funny and convenient to do that even when you’re not on the battlefield. If Sasori wants your attention and you don’t hear him, he will physically turn you around from whatever you’re doing

𓆃 You’ve started to feel the tiny attachment of chakra strings in your sleep. You’ve started to brush them away like spiderwebs

𓆃 Deidara likes to walk around with his shirt off. On days he’s feeling generous, he’ll let you do his hair. It’s kinda become a bonding thing between the two of you. Sometimes he’ll yammer on about something, and you pass the time by braiding his hair. 

𓆃 You remembered being able to do Hiruko’s hair once. You don’t remember why Sasori allowed it.

𓆃 “Yeah, whatever, but if you get poisoned I’m not giving you an antidote...” 

𓆃 You’re as close as an Akatsuki three-man squad will get. There’s a certain amount of healthy distrust, but at the end of the day, Sasori and Deidara are sentimental and enjoy the company... for now...

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