#in my mind that's a semi recent recommendation i want to get around to watching

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

i was like well i guess i could sit down to watch cunk on earth finally i'm a little late getting to this one!

it came out in 2022. it came out almost 2 years ago. in my head i was like yeah this is a semi-recent thing on my list i'll watch it. it is not. it's been almost 2 years. the next time you give me a rec and i say 'i'll watch that soon' don't believe me. 'soon' can be years later.

[filmofhybe]

CHAPTER 6 : HE FOUND ME..

> pairing : Nishimura Riki x Female Reader

> genre : college student AU! , Pool Lifeguard AU! , smau , fluff

> warnings : SLOW BURN!! , swearing , bad humor jokes , kys jokes (die etc) , kissing , semi verbal bullying (no violence) , reader! injuring herself by accident , missing parent figure

> chapter synopsis : Niki couldn’t his jealousy towards heeseung. Him hanging out with y/n already hit him like a rock. So Niki decides to add y/n on her socials. As Niki compliments y/n recent post, Isabelle founds out causing jealousy to build up in her.

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comment or reblog to ask be on the series taglist.

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

( I also just want to mention that this series is kinda slow burn, so if your not into slow burn or plot lines that can take a bit to develop than this story is probably not your cup of tea. But I do recommend checking out my other works if you want, enjoy!! )

587 words.

Niki’s pov:

I felt so angry when I saw Jake and Heeseung stories with y/n in them. Knowing that such a pretty girl is with 2 of your best looking friends hurts. Ugh imma go crazy over this girl.

I quickly followed her on all her social. Fuck I hope she doesn’t think I’m a stalker.. now I just have to wait till she follows me back. I walked downstairs to go get some water when I see Isabelle on my couch with my sisters. If I have to be honest with you Isabelle was a really sweet and pretty girl, always listen to my problems and overall a decent person. She’s moving to my college soon which is exciting, I just hope she gets along with my friends.

“Niki want to watch a movie with us?” Isabelle said softly. Making me turn around. “Sure but maybe just a few minutes I’m getting tired.” I walked over to the living room before sitting next to her. My eyes was focused on the movie when my phone lit up. Eyes widen at the notification, jumping off the sofa causing Isabelle to groan. “Fuck you niki I was comfortable laying down.” She held her head in pain. “I’m sorry I just need to go to bed.” It was late either ways.. before any of them could call me back I ran back up stairs.

I was just scrolling through twitter before coming across y/n recent post. God really put his time in creating such a beautiful girl. I liked her post and comment on it before turning on my tv.

The light from my phone caught my attention, grabbing it into my hand and I felt excitement take over my body and mind.

Y/N Y/L/N just followed me back. And replied to my comment.

y/n’s pov:

Jake, heeseung and my family were all sat in the living room doing whatever. I really miss these days where everyone would gather around almost every night before going back to their sweet home. I was zoning out from the conversation until I got a message from instagram, Twitter as well as tiktok.

instagram

nishimura.riki has followed you.

TikTok

dance.riki has followed you.

Twitter

nishimura.r1ki has followed you.

I clicked on his profile and scrolled through his feed. After clicking on some videos i finally realized it was the guy who caught me the week before term break. The scene still plays in my head till this day. I decided to text heeseung even though he’s literally in front of me but if I said it out loud, my whole family is gonna throw unnecessary questions at me.

I texted the group as well after I posted on twitter, didn’t expect Niki or the kids pool guy to comment on it.

Isabelle pov:

series taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @haechansgf @txtistheloml @skepvids @syuuji @oshakyao @haechansbbg

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, recently I’ve been semi-regularly online gaming (Grim Dawn on Steam) and exchanging musical notes with Tumblr mindful-hempress. In a recent fun exchange, she sent me a video of a fairy girl licking amphibians and tripping balls in the forest. Fresh off her astute recommendation I asked her if she was ‘ready to dance??’ and introduced her for the first time to the music of Phantogram. Having never heard of them, she responded very positively to the music video for their song Fall in Love from their 2013 album Voices (smash play on the track above). Specifically, she praised the voice of lead singer Sarah Barthel and kept on sampling their tracks, I assume, well into the effervescent night. So, it worked on her. Now I ask you, Tumblr. ARE YOU READY TO DANCE!? If the answer is affirmatively YES, YES, YES!!!… scroll down for some more details, you degenerate sicko. If the answer is no, well, then kindly fuck off?? If the answer is middling, read on...

This is a psychedelic pop duo I’ve highly enjoyed for about a decade, and they managed to hook me fairly quickly with their street-beat, synth-heavy tunes. Their music is equal parts batshit crazy and deeply emotional, and they generally manage to hit both extremes on every single one of their albums. A New York band consisting of two pre-school friends, this group found at least a tepid amount of initial success with extensive interest in singles related to their self-titled 2009 EP. A year later, they released their first full length album, Eyelid Movies, which, while not a slam-dunk music-market success, enabled them to set up their foundational roots and original sound. Starting in the mid-2010’s their music started to pop up on the radio, commercials and even video games. Recently, I was playing Grand Theft Auto V and one of their songs randomly started playing as I was cruising around Los Santos. I consider them to be one, if not my favorite electropop act, as they can produce sounds that are both emotionally gritty and hypnotic, all while keeping me interested in what they’re going to do next. Perhaps the best part of music by Phantogram is that no matter what, I always have a hell of a lot of FUN listening to them. Whether I’m trying to decode some of their lyrics, or listening passively in my car to one of their darker tunes, or just sitting at home listening to one of their full-length albums… I can’t get over how much FUN this duo is to listen to and watch. Just below, you’ll find You Don’t Get Me High Anymore from their 2016 album Three. Smash play and as always, enjoy!

Just wanted to point out that I bookended this post with a song about falling in, then out of love. I forgot to mention above that I really enjoy all the tricky wordplay in a lot of their jams. Even if all the lyrics don’t make 100% sense, they still can throw together one hell of a well-constructed poetical verse. I don't really like pop music, but I like Phantogram A LOT. Image source: https://phantogram.bandcamp.com/track/as-far-as-i-can-see

[thegoddesswater]

Got tagged by @lanonima​ and, because I have other things I should be doing, decided to get these all done right away Yay semi-productive procrastination!

What's one thing that your friends say that applies to you? Like a quirk or something they know you for? Something they associate with you always?

This legitimately depends on people group you’re asking. One friend immediately thinks of me when he sees anything Batman. For other friends, it’s my yarn witchcraft fibre arts. My coworkers? They associate me with baking. All are correct

Who inspires you in your life? I don't mean a celebrity, but a person you know, brag about someone incredible that is your inspiration.

Probably Sir Silver (very weird to call him that). I can trace so much of my personal growth over the last couple years back to him: I drive now, I’m more confident in social situations, he indirectly hauled me out of the worst writers block I’ve experienced... Things just feel POSSIBLE around him and I can’t explain why, but when I’m around him, it’s just like “Yeah. I CAN do this and I WILL. Bring. It. On.” I don’t think he has any idea he has this effect on me

Who do you consider to be your favourite person and why?

@flamingdoritos​ and @wheelybard​ are some of my oldest IRL friends and they have both seen me at my absolute lowest and worst and they’ve still said “you are my person and I am here” They bring colour to my life when my world goes grey scale.

What's your favourite kind of animal? If you lived with said animal, what would you name them? If you have said animal, what is their name?

Normal answer is bunnies. I had bunnies growing up named Cotton and Candy - they came named. The weird how-would-you-keep-that-as-a-pet answer is sea slugs. A freaking huge tank of all kinds of sea slugs. Heck If I know what I would name them. Probably name them all after fictional characters..

What colour is your most recent obsession?

Probably purple (I say “probably” as though I didn’t carry a paint chip around for eight years waiting to paint my kitchen that exact colour as soon as I got a house)

What's a little decor item that you want to own in the future?

I have very little impulse control when it comes to decor. Particularly since I tend to gravitate towards more unique things, so when I see something I want, I snag it. Except for a pair of owl candlesticks I found last summer. I left those in the shop and somewhat regret that. If I ever find something similar again, I may need to own them. A LARGE decor item that I want to own is a fancy board game table

Do you have any mundane but cute "talent"/thing you can do? Something just slightly unusual but also completely usual?

If I’ve heard a song before and am later presented with just the lyrics, I can usually pull the tune for it out of nowhere?

Do you like fashion? What kind of a dresser are you? More casual? Fancy?

Eh. I don’t mind looking nice, but I am very much a ‘jeans and t-shirt’ gal when I’m not at work. I did vow that this year I would be making (sewing/knitting/crocheting) all new articles of clothing instead of buying any, so that’s going to be interesting. My grandmother thinks I’m crazy for deciding that I will attempt to make myself jeans.

Do you wear makeup? What's your go-to makeup look? If you don't wear makeup, have you ever thought of wearing it?

Who has the time for makeup? Not I! Last time I wore make up was for my friend’s wedding and I felt like a goddamn princess. It was delightful and I have no idea how to replicate it.

Recommend us one movie that the critics/public didn't like that much when it came out but you personally think is a hidden gem!

Um. I dunno??? Kubo and the Two Strings? I wouldn’t dare go so far as to say that folks didn’t like it when it came out, just that it was not well known? It’s phenomenal

What show are you watching right now? Recommend it to us!

Currently I am watching a post-war saga about a man from a cult who steals (and subsequently adopts) a severely traumatized child from an evil government organization. After breaking the creed of his people for the sake of son, he must go on a journey to his ancestral home to seek redemption and absolution in the war-torn ruins (It’s The Mandalorian, folks)

Have you ever watched an anime? If yes, which one?

Numerous ones. Fullmetal Alchemist will probably always be my favourite series.

What's your favourite kind of art medium? Recommend us an artist or show us an art piece (could be music, painting, crochet, whatever) that you really love!

I don’t feel like I have a favourite art medium, but hand stitched embroidery is pretty freaking cool.

I mean LOOK AT THIS (from here)

What do you like to do when you are bored?

Knit/crochet, go for a walk, play video games, read, show up unannounced at my parents’ house and make my boredom their problem, practice French...

How many pillows do you sleep with, if any?

One. Unless we count my two stuffed dogs - which I do not.

Do you have trouble with sleeping? Do you remember your dreams a lot or forget them as soon as you wake up?

I usually sleep pretty well. I try to keep fairly consistent sleep hours, which helps, but sometimes I am just Awake For No Reason. And that is The Worst. I also sleepwalk which is an adventure and a half sometimes. Once I nearly ran around my house at 2:30 in the morning looking for my cat because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen or fed it. (I do not own a cat) I think it depends on when in the sleep cycle I wake up whether I remember my dreams or not. If I remember them FlamingDoritos usually gets a text saying “Okay so I just had a dream that...” And she’s gotta brace herself for the most unhinged series of paragraphs that she’ll encounter all week.

Who is one cool character in something you've seen in your life that you hyperfocused on at a time in your life.

The fact that you think I can pick ONE is almost insulting. Nightwing/Dick Grayson and Red Hood/Jason Todd from the Batman comics. Soren from Fire Emblem 9 & 10. Jak and Torn from the Jak and Daxter series. Lirael from the Abhorsen novels. I’m mildly ashamed that there’s only one lady listed

Show us your current phone case!

It is significantly more pink IRL. And the pattern is wearing away in numerous places. Probably gonna replace it soon tbh

Recommend people a song that has meant a lot to you sometime in your life and share us the story about if you'd like.

If you want one with a history (that I don’t feel like expanding on at the moment) - “Diamond on a Landmine” by Billy Talent If you would like the one that I most recently forced unendingly on repeat into my ears for reasons I cannot articulate beyond clearly it just resonating with my soul at the time - “Perfect” by Miracle of Sound

How has your day been so far?

Decent! My back and hips are killing me though and have been for weeks so that puts a bit of a damper on things.

Tagging~ Um... I dunno. Do I have any followers who enjoy tag games? I don’t wanna impose these things on folks if you super don’t want to do them.

[enjennie]

In The Limelight [chenle x reader]

Summary: Tutoring the CEO’s son, when you’re barely interested in business. And falling for him, when you knew nothing about love.

Genre: Fluff. Rich kid!Chenle Tutor!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: not proofread! I’ve been in a slump lately ☹ my works haven’t been satisfying me but I hope you enjoy this! btw omg this is a reupload bc the first time... somehow, the paragraphs were jumbled up? 

 “Y/N, there are flowers on your desk,” your classmate gestures behind them to the classroom you were headed to before quickly passing by. You could only nod, a little taken aback by the sudden information you received. Flowers? As far as you know, Valentine’s had passed, so has white day and it’s definitely not your birthday.

But as you enter your classroom, the bundle of flowers catching your eyes, you knew one thing for sure was from who it was. As you approach your desk, you lift the thoughtful gift and inspect the small card attached to the string that tied it beautifully together. ZCH, it read in cursive.

 “How was your day?” Chenle’s voice can be heard from the other line, the smile on his face almost something you can hear along with it.

“It was great! Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re delightful,” you beamed, eyes landing at the arrangement that now sat on your vanity. Chenle chuckles, his laughter sending serotonin to run through your body.

“Not a problem, I’m glad you like them,”

“Though I’d appreciate if you gave them to me yourself,” you cheekily continued. Chenle could only smile, his face softening at your request. It was a simple request. Yet, he couldn’t do it.

When you notice the silence that follow, you immediately regret what you said. You desperately try to backtrack, sputtering out words. “Well- I mean-, It’s fine- Thank you, still! I love them,”

Chenle hums, “I know. Don’t worry. You’ll wait though… right? It won’t be long,”

You plant your feet to your carpeted floor and nod, even if he can’t see you. “Of course, Lele,”

 Zhong Chenle is the son of the most respected CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Shanghai the entire world. Chenle was the next in line to the company. After his brother had expressed how the business world didn’t interest him, the responsibility immediately fell into Chenle’s hands. And even if music was his love and calling, he had to let it go as to not disappoint his father.

Chenle had accepted it some time ago, going to school only for the degree so he could be eligible to own the business. He accepted the fact that he was going to be living the life his father made for him, not one he made for himself and it was the hardest pill to swallow. But things changed when he met you. There was more purpose to the things he does, it wasn’t just for nothing. Life had gone from monochromatic to colorful.

 “Miss, Y/N. Mr. Zhong just moved and he has to take this class to pass the semester. I trust you can fill him in with our module? Mr. Zhong, this is Miss. Y/N, she scored the highest during midterms,” your world economics professor had marched towards you after class, a tall boy following behind her. He looked just as oblivious as she did, to the sudden weight and pressure being put on you.

You merely nod and say a simple hello, not being able to say anything else. It wasn’t a question, this was a demand. Jeez if I was gonna teach your student I should get a portion of your pay. You thought bitterly. At the time, you were struggling to juggle a part-time job at a café while also maintaining your grades to keep your scholarship.

When your professor left you two, the boy kept his hands buried in his pockets. His clothes were semi-casual and his hair was styled nicely. Who the hell moves halfway through the year?

“So, Mr. Zhong-“ you take your books into your arms and lazily sling your bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door with him trailing behind you.

“Chenle-, You can call me Chenle,” he finally spoke, startling you a little with how cool and soft his voice is as opposed to his striking visual that intimidated you at first.

“Nice to meet you, Chenle,” you give him a smile.

You were gonna be around this guy for who knows how long, might as well try to be his friend. Maybe it’ll make the teaching less of a chore.

  “Wrong,” you huffed, marking his essay and adding in annotations. “Chenle, remember there is a specific way to start these essays and that’s by defining the terms you’re using,”

The boy sat opposite of you, arms crossed and back against the couch comfortably. You were in a café. The café you worked in, to be precise. Your schedule today overlapped with Chenle’s and as much as you didn’t want him to see you slaving around, you also couldn’t miss this paycheck at the café. You gave him an essay to write just to check on his phrasing and structure and left to buss some tables and serve orders. But when you came back, Chenle barely wrote anything and could care less about it.

“Can we not study today?” he whined.

You and Chenle have been meeting each other for a month now, and you’d soon learned about the type of boy he is, the life he led. In ways you didn’t expect to.

 The first time you found out about Chenle’s reputation was through the newspaper. No, not the school newspaper. Not even the local newspaper. But on the Wallstreet Journal, when you had to grab material from any recent article for a class. Chenle’s name floated along with the words ‘Young entrepreneur’ and their company’s name. You gasped so loud you had to excuse yourself from the library and leave in a hurry. That afternoon you smacked him on the shoulder with your thick world econ textbook.

“You’re from a family of business corporates and you’re learning world economics from someone who crammed the exam?” you exclaimed. He stared at you blankly, book in hand and pen in the other.

“And you don’t pay me!” you added. The fact that you’ve been tutoring someone as rich as Chenle just didn’t make sense to you. Why not go to a professional? Instead, he was here with a sleep deprived college student who sometimes mixes up business terms just because she couldn’t care any less. World Economics was a mandatory for you. You studied to pass, sadly.

“I could start paying you, name the price,” he said easily. But you shook your head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, sorry. I actually don’t care about the money,” You led him to the picnic bench with the table outside school grounds and propped your book on it along with your bag before taking out your bento box. “Just blows my mind how you won’t just pay for the classes. I don’t teach that well-” you continue.

“I like you, though,” Chenle calmly interjects. You look up at the boy, movements being halted by his bold statement.

“Pardon?” you felt the need to have him clarify what he said.  The boy leaned across the table, over your textbooks and notes. “I like you,” Chenle repeated himself, but the impact it had on you was just as powerful and hit you hard. Your heart was doing somersaults.

Chenle’s eyes grew thin as he smiled, backing away from you and sitting back down.

“So, chapter 12,” he starts flipping his book nonchalantly, leaving you out of breath with a heart hammering in your chest.

  “What do you mean not study today? You have an upcoming quiz with Mr. Byun this Friday and mind you, that man searches for wrongs, not rights,” you raised a finger at him, shaking it matter-of-factly.

“No, let me help you. Do you usually run the café on your own?” he closes the book and takes his essay from your hand. You’re left slack jawed.

“No. I- Johnny couldn’t come in today,” you explained. Suddenly, you were stammering as if explaining to your boss. At first, you were doubting if it was the same Chenle you were reading about in the articles. The boy you were tutoring didn’t come off as someone who would be running corporates and buying stocks or whatever. He was more laid back and relaxed. Aside from the way he dressed, nothing gave it away that he was indeed the CEO’s son. But there were times where you got a dominant feel from him. Times when he stood with much authority and didn’t accept no for an answer. In those moments, you realize how Chenle’s presence alone demanded respect.

Soon enough, you found yourself behind the counter with Chenle beside you tying the apron to himself. He looked cute, somehow. The way he smiled at customers and tried giving them their recommendations set butterflies run free in your stomach, you almost swooned. He didn’t get much studying done that day, but you surely did. You learned the fact that you falling slowly but surely with Zhong Chenle.

  There were two chapters you’re left to cover. In the short month and a half, you managed to teach Chenle six month’s worth of topics. Seeing him every other day made Chenle a familiar face to see around. Of course, you never actually got to see him around campus when you weren’t tutoring him. It left you wondering if you were actually teaching a ghost. But all doubts went away when the girls in your class started whispering about the cute boy waiting outside class. You quickly found out it was Chenle who they were talking about, and he was there for you. It was safe to say he wasn’t a ghost and is in fact real.

Carrying his book bag, he was stood against the wall with reading material under his arm.

“Chenle, we don’t have a schedule today,” you walk up to him, trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes that watched you. Chenle nodded, “Sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow. My father is bringing me on a business trip,” he states.

It wasn’t new for you to hear this coming from Chenle. Just the other week, his father brought him along to Japan for a company deal and Chenle came back with a little keychain souvenir for you. The same keychain dangled from your bag now as you both walked to the exit of the building. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bring my book with me tod-“ you begin searching in your bag, even if you knew it wasn’t there. You were just trying to ignore the way his question made your heart jump.

“I mean… for dinner. Are you free for dinner?” he places a gentle hand on yours, stopping you from looking further in your bag. Chenle’s bold movements sometimes took him by surprise as well. He quickly retracts his hand, shoving it in his pockets. You let go of your bag, placing your hands on either side of you.

“Why?” you squinted at him suspiciously.

Chenle’s smile is small, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you as he turns his head towards his car then back down at you. “Listen, you don’t have to overanalyze this. I just want to treat you,”

  Chenle had thought about it a hundred times or more, before finally making a decision. Although you’ve been seeing each other in cafes and libraries for some time now, he didn’t want to consider those as dates. Sure, it gave him time to admire you up close and get to know you but he wanted you to know his true intentions. The only problem was boy, was he a wuss. And were you oh so dense!

Despite the subtle and not so subtle hints he’s given you, you remained clueless about his feelings. Unsure, confused and just downright oblivious. From the way he looked at you to how he vocally told you he liked you. You shoved everything under the rug, afraid that this boy was just toying around with you and having a laugh. He found it cute.

 It didn’t matter that you were in your school clothes, carrying about three thick books in your shoulder bag. He thought you looked stunning. You ate at a pizzeria just in town and he expressed how it tasted just like pizza from Italy. You said you wouldn’t know the difference since you’ve never been, and had a laugh about it.

The walk from his car to your apartment wasn’t that far, it’s just that he had to park a little further since there was no more space left in front. As you walked together, you noticed how the vibe and atmosphere between you two that developed as the night deepened, was different. More lax, comfortable. Like friends? You were both silent, until Chenle piped up.

“I lied, I didn’t just want to treat you,” he muttered, looking into the distance of your quiet street.

You turn your face towards him and you catch a glimpse of his face in the moonlight before looking away. He’d taken your bag from you and had it around his shoulder now. Him in his white polo shirt and brown suit jacket. He was always dressed like he was attending some kind of formal event. That’s Chenle for you. Mr. CEO’s son.

“Then?” you prompted him to continue.

Chenle averts his attention towards you as you finally reached the front of your apartment. You both stop walking, facing each other with the moon as your spotlight. You look at him from the light of the moon, it illuminated Chenle’s features perfectly. You would be able to inspect him when he studied, but each look at him made you breathless every time you had to look away. Much like right now.

“I wanted to take you out. Like, on a date,” Chenle confesses.

You could never wrap your head around how bold Chenle could be. Always leaving you flustered after saying such things, this boy was your weakness. But you didn’t give in. At least, you tried not to.

“Oh,” was your only response as you put your hands together, looking up at the tall boy. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that heat was rushing to your cheeks and ears by now. You could practically feel your blood flowing through your body, making you feel warm all over. “It was fun, I enjoyed it,” you shyly admit.

Chenle takes a step forward, raising his hand to palm your cheek gently. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten this close. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for my world yet,” his voice is lower, cool. Like wind.

You part your lips slightly, willing yourself to breathe. Your breath is unstable, shaky. This time, you take a step forward. “Are you underestimating me?” You don’t know where the surge of confidence came from, but you were thankful for it. The look of surprise is quickly melted into amusement as this was definitely the first time you ever made the second move to the dozens of times he’d left you flustered.

Chenle dips his head down close to your face. Eyes trained on each other, you tried to get yourself to breathe. He looked alluring, and you watch his eyes drop to your lips. Your head had become blank, nothing in mind. Just him. Chenle, and nothing else. His calm eyes, button nose and plump lips that you so very badly wanted to press against yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You close the space between you and Chenle, lining your lips with his and connecting them together. The sensation almost sending you on your knees, you grab onto his shoulder for support and he holds you up by the waist, swiftly wrapping his strong arms around you. It felt like such a big relief, you almost sighed.

When you pulled away, Chenle’s smile comes into view as you fluttered your eyes open. He places his hand at the back of his head and scratches, suddenly becoming shy. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“You’re something else,” you giggle, smacking his arm before snatching your bag from his shoulder and turning on your heel to leave. You feel his hand against yours, forcing you to stop. “I’ll see you after my trip?” he asks.

“Same time… for class,” you reply, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. Chenle lets your hand go, a smitten smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. Zhong Chenle wished things were simpler. He wanted to give you the world.

 “It’s just a black tie party and my dad’s forcing me to come with a date,” he fixes himself in the mirror. He looked handsome, as always. In an all-black suit that fit him perfectly. Dressed like he had someplace to be, people to meet.

You sat on your bed behind him, arms folded and face scrunched up into a frown. A date. Probably someone from a rich family, better than you, his future spouse. They’d have perfect little babies together. All these bitter thoughts were flooding in your brain. When he notices your unusual quietness, Chenle turns to face you and gives you a goofy smile.

“What’s on your mind?” he approaches the bed, placing either hands on the side of you and leaning in close. Chenle could tell when you lied and knew exactly how to make you crack. You pull your knees to yourself and don’t bother hiding the scowl forming on your face. You couldn’t do anything about it. After several talks with Chenle, he explained how much pressure he gets from the media and his family. How dating even became a hassle because of how the pressure would then be shared with his partner.

For years, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t find anyone that sparked his interest, and only had meaningless one night stands. He was fine with it, really. But all of that changed when he met you. For once, he wanted to go after something he loved. Not let it go, unlike what he did with his own passion for the sake of his father’s dream and business.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts in your head and throwing them out. “Nothing. I know it’s just business. Message me when you get home?” you didn’t need to ask, but you still do. Chenle always kept you updated, whether if it was how the party he’s in has a chocolate fountain or if the bathrooms have automatic toilets. It was always bizarre hearing about his stories and taking a peek of what his world is like. The world of corporates. You weren’t ready for it, and Chenle knew.

 The secrecy of your relationship didn’t last very long, soon enough it’s got media questioning who Chenle was seeing and your status. After a few run-ins with the paparazzi, you both decided it would be best if your meetups were more discreet. Luckily, the cameras hadn’t captured your face yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did.

To top it all off, the news had spread across campus. Girls left and right claiming they were the one dating Chenle, it didn’t bother you too much. You had a scholarship to keep and a job to go to. Sometimes, you’d find a single rose and a letter waiting for you in class, or at the café. Of course, you and Chenle had wrapped up the tutorial classes and he was able to pass the exam. He was one step closer to his degree, but happy wasn’t the word to describe him.

He yearned to be with you, have you in his arms and spend hours together just like you used to before things got complicated. Chenle grew lonely without your presence as months passed. Nonetheless, you hung onto the string of hope that maybe one day people wouldn’t care so much. That you could take all the criticism, the heat.

 It was around 2am when your phone rang, disturbing your slumber. It was a Friday night and you took it upon yourself to catch up on some sleep after the horrendous exam week you just faced. Chenle had said goodnight hours ago. You wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour.

You pick up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Chenle’s voice filled your ear. Your eyes snap open and you shot up from your bed, pulling the phone away from your ear. Sure enough, it was him. Lele, with a little heart beside the name.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask worriedly. His voice sounded slow and there was rustling behind him.

Chenle lets out a groan, and your heartbeat picks up its pace. You knew better than to think Chenle would cheat, but it was definitely worrying hearing this without any idea what was going on. “I miss you,” he breathed, voice raspy and low. You couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on your face. In the darkness of your room, your heart swelled with joy. “I miss you too, Chenle,” you whispered back.

Distinct voices come through the line, and you make it out to be Jeno and Jaemin. They’re bickering and you hear a guitar in the mix. “We’ll leave you here, Chenle,” Jaemin calls to his friend before you hear a door close.

“Why did you call?” you ask but you were happy that he did.

“Because I can’t be there with you. Even if it’s all I want right now,” he confessed. Your smile faltered and a hint of sadness falls upon your face as he continues. He was obviously drunk, but Chenle has always been really honest because he couldn’t lie. These days however, you haven’t had the time to talk much and you knew there was a lot on his mind. It hurt to know that it’s been this, and you couldn’t do much about it. “I just want to tell everyone about us. Screw what they think, YN. You’re perfect to me,”

Hearing his words gave you a glimmer of hope. You wished he was right, you wished you could believe it.

“Chenle-“ you sighed. “I want that too,”

There was a moment of silence before his voice came through again and you thought he’d passed out drunk already. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve sacrificed so much for my father, but you’re not going to be one of them,”

His words brought the smile back to your face, tears welling up in your eyes from how happy you were to hear them. It seemed at this moment that you could battle anything, because you were with Chenle. Everything would be alright. He was here and you are too, it’s the two of you against the world.

“Tomorrow, let’s make it official,” Chenle proposed.

You bring your hand up to your lips and bite on your nails, now fully awake more than ever. “Okay,” you agreed. Chenle grins, getting up from his bed. “I’m coming over,” you can hear him walking around now, keys jangling and shoes on his wooden floor.

“You can’t drive-“ you hurriedly try to stop him, keeping in mind his state.

“I don’t drive a Tesla for nothing,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there soon,” The outgoing beeping of the call followed afterwards as he ended the call. The realization hit you a moment later.

 The next day, you and Chenle arrived in school together. He stayed the night, carrying a change of clothes in his bag. For someone who was smack drunk, he sure did pack well.

From the moment you stepped out of his car, many students were around to watch. Exchanging whispers and staring, your cheeks set aflame when Chenle pulls you by the arm, your hands connecting between you and threading together naturally. It drew the attention of many onlookers and you chewed on your bottom lip, not used to the attention.

“They’re staring,” you whisper close to him.

“Let them,” He responds. Chenle tilts your head up to meet his gaze before planting a lingering kiss on your lips, confirming people’s already forming suspicions. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part II)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Coming home is melancholy and cold, and your squadmates ask you to do what you couldn't do for a year: speak up and find out what's going on inside Eren's mind.

Words count: 5.3k

They say that when a loved one leaves this world, the days follow turns gray, colorless; How ironic to think that the day we buried Sasha was gray, there wasn’t a trace of the blue sky or some solar ray that could give us the warmth we were lacking. It was cold, a cold that got into your bones and no matter how many hugs and words of mutual support we gave each other, we couldn’t get the warmth we needed.

My soul had been fragmented the moment Sasha left this world, but seeing my friends cry at her grave and leave bouquets of flowers, it fragmented even more. I wasn’t able to meet Nicolo's eyes, my guilt prevented me. Inside, I wanted this Marleyan to yell at me, to tell me that he hated my presence, that Sasha's death had been my fault, and that I should have given my life if it meant saving her. I wanted with all my being that he would give me a reason to really feel guilty.

On the way back to the island, the others assured me that her death wasn’t my fault, that I did everything possible to keep her alive. But my ineptitude, my grief, my low self-esteem prevented me from seeing things clearly. I just needed… something to hold onto.

And I wasn't getting anything.

I felt how I was slowly sinking into the rabbit hole, without the possibility of clinging to a tree root. I was falling, falling, falling, unable to know when I would hit bottom. But that bottom came fast before I could have predicted, because minutes after Nicolo arrived, Sasha's father arrived too, bouquet of beautiful red flowers in hand.

I broke myself. The two people who longed for Sasha most in their lives were standing in front of me, mourning the loss of her young soul. The two people who would hate me the most in the world, standing over my friends's grave. I fell to my knees in front of them and in front of her grave, silently begging for forgiveness.

My tears fell incessantly on the freshly stirred earth as did my fingers, imploring this burden on my chest to dissipate, as if unconsciously I was wishing for Sasha herself to forgive me for letting her die. How could one cope with this heinous feeling? How could I go on, knowing that the world was falling around us, unable to know if the next day we were going to be alive or if Marley would initiate an attack from which we weren’t going to be able to defend ourselves?

My head was racing a thousand per second and the only thing I could let out were those sobs that had accompanied me so much on the way back, the same ones that cradled me to slept, and the tears that so much wanted to dissipate the pain in my soul.

It is said that when a person leaves this world, some people are unable to handle grief, just as they are unable to articulate a word. Apparently I was one of those people.

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Nights and days passed. Those of us who survived the attack on Marley stayed in commune trying to encourage ourselves to continue fighting. Hange had recommended us to rest, since the psychological damage could cause us several injuries in the future, and as for Eren ... we weren’t very aware of him. The last we heard from our commanders is that he was locked away from all human contact, stipulating that it would be better to keep him locked up for a while and let whatever shit that was going through his head dissipate.

But that was complete bullshit. I knew that, even locking him up, they weren't going to be able to change the thoughts that tormented Eren so much. I knew that, whatever was wandering through his mind, he wasn’t letting him alone and he would never let go. How did I know that? Because I spent a whole year trying to get him to let me enter in that shell he has been forming in recent years. I tried very hard to get him to tell me his plan before he went to Marley, but I got nothing, and I still get nothing.

My gaze was lost in the window. The nights grew colder and colder and I hugged my arms as I watched the sunset. The boys were arguing about something, something that Mikasa didn't seem to find funny at all, but my mind wasn’t connected to reality. I just stared out the window, remembering the old days when we'd sneak out to steal a piece of meat from the supply warehouse with Sasha and Connie.

I remembered the nights when the boys sneaked into the women's hut to keep each other warm in our days as recruits. I remembered how Armin let me practice my medicine methods on him when he got hurt, a practice that was lost when he inherited the power of the Colossal Titan.

I remembered how we would escape at dawn, grab a few horses and ride out to the ocean, taking nice cool baths on the warm moonlit summer nights. Now those moments only remained in that, in memories.

"(Y/N) are you listening?"

My gaze detached from the window, now it was fixed on a Connie who looked just as tired of the world as I did. This dwarf turned giant was just as devastated as I was by losing half of him, and yet he was still able to continue fighting alongside our friends.

"We think you might be the most suitable to go talk to Eren"

Armin's calm voice stripped me of any desire to go back to the old moments. I pulled myself away from the window tiredly and let my body unconsciously guide me to one of the couchs in the middle of the room, next to the blonde. Apparently while I was wandering in my thoughts, the tension in the room had reached a point where it could be cut with a simple wave of the hand.

As I sat down, I was able to take a better look at the room. From what I could analyze, the group had divided into two, those who still trusted Eren and those who did not, each with their reasons, and apparently, I was playing the role of mediator. The responsibility fell on me to move the pieces of the board: to talk to our supposed war partner and beg him to tell us about his plans and the demons in his head, or to dethrone him completely.

"What makes you think I can go talk to him?"

My words came out of my mouth colder and sharper than I would’ve liked, but it was the simple truth. If Eren was willing to push each other away to accomplish his task, what was I going to accomplish after a year without having answers to his thoughts?

"I haven't been able to speak to him openly in a year"

Armin and Mikasa gave me completely stunned looks. Not even their childhood friend had told them that his relationship was falling off a cliff.

"I didn't know, I thought you were fine"

"Well, we are not fine at all Armin"

I knew it wasn't fair for Armin to get all my frustration, he wasn't guilty at all. I looked him in the eye and I could find multiple feelings in those huge blue eyes: sadness, compassion, guilt, overwhelm. I knew he was one of the worst going through it, his childhood friend was no longer entirely reliable; he had carried out acts of sheer violence and had become the enemy he hated the most; Armin had become his worst enemy and his eyes clearly showed it.

And it was those same eyes that begged me to do something, to go and talk, to try to figure out the smallest thing we could use to get out of this mess Eren got us into. They implored me to save his soul brother from his mental prison.

I let out a long breath before getting up off the couch and heading to the door.

"I highly doubt that I will achieve anything, but I will try to talk to him"

I took one last look to the guys in front of me before leaving the room, each one wishing me luck and pleading for my well-being with their eyes, and sinking even further into the rabbit hole, or rather, going straight to ventured into the lion's den.

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The road to the dungeons was long and heavy, but not because of the number of blocks and alleys I had to take, but because of what was waiting for me at the end of the road. Upon coming into contact with the stone walls and their semi-armored doors, the blood on my body ran cold, just as it ran cold when we buried Sasha.

The air below the ground was cold, the smell of mold and dirt entered my nostrils, preventing me from taking a couple of steps without feeling like vomiting. The place really needed a better cleaning, otherwise it would be the epicenter of a huge plague.

At the end of the corridor, where the light was dimmer and let the darkness eat much of the cell, was Eren. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting on his supposed bed, staring directly at the wall, or so it seemed; knowing him he was surely lost in his world. I kept my composure, avoiding giving any trace of my emotional and psychological state.

"Hi"

I got no response, as always.

I had the opportunity to inspect his cell, it was quite untidy and dripping with water, coming from the sink which was covered to the top. Unconsciously I prayed that this water was drinkable or at least that it was not too polluted, since I didn’t have to look completely at the brunette in front of me to know he had put his head in that same water.

"I like your hair, looks very smooth"

"What do you want?"

His voice came out calm but imposing and terrifying at the same time, I would be lying if I said I didn’t startle a bit, but I kept my composure as best as possible to avoid showing the fear in my eyes. Eren may not have noticed, but if he did, he was unfazed.

"The guys think that I can talk to you, but I told them they were completely wrong, I mean...we haven't been able to speak like we used to for a year, maybe more"

My words came out of my mouth like the venom of a snake. I couldn't tell if my intention was to make him feel guilty, or at least feel something, to reflect on my words, but guess what… his eyes didn't even leave the wall behind me.

I crossed my arms and rested my body on one of the bars, hoping to have some intimidating way for the damn bastard to decide to speak. Even though bullying wasn't my thing, I, yes, had a tired face and wasn't there to waste my time, but I had to achieve something, get something, whatever, so I could get out of this damn place.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave until you say something"

His eyes met mine for a few seconds and then returned to their original position. I knew this was going to be difficult, but I couldn't help my irritation growing from my chest. With every minute that passed, the pain in that area was increasing and a lump in the throat was appearing with each tear that I wanted to avoid shedding.

I'd been through shitty days and had to come alone to the exact place I least wanted to be to talk to the person I least wanted to see.

"I'm used to being on my feet for long hours, I can be here all day, and that's exactly what I'm going to do"

I remained planted in front of the cell, positioning myself with crossed arms right in front of his eyes, preventing them from continuing to look at the miserable wall.

But my bad luck wasn't giving me any sign that I was going to win this fight very soon. Although I was covering his peripheral field, his eyes never deigned to look at me, they simply stayed glued to the front, now seeing my body in front, although in reality, he was seeing without seeing.

My patience was running out and this goddamn silent game had only just begun. I had to find something to work with, something that could flicker him or make him angry… anger would not be the best if I wanted to leave with all the bones intact and my already psychological trauma without further damage; but knowing Eren, anger was his fuel, which made him move and in an action-reaction effect, made everyone move together behind him.

That's it. Everyone. But we weren't all here.

Sasha was dead; Reiner, Berthold and Annie traitors and enemies of Paradis; Ymir disappeared and confirmed dead, being inherited by the new jaw titan; the only one missing from our group was our beloved Queen. The Queen that Eren so decided to care for and protect.

"You know, Historia is about to give birth"

It was mild, but I could feel his body tense. His eyes moved just the same slightly, but in those little acts I knew I had struck a chord. And I was willing to use it, even if it meant destroying my sanity and causing one of Eren's greatest worldly anger.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby on the squad?" I took a deep breath before launching the second impact of the night, preparing to receive whatever blow came next. "After all, it's your child, right?"

His body moved faster than I could ever achieve and my reflexes weren't sharp enough to pull away in time. His hand grabbed my shirt, drawing me towards the bars and hitting my cheeks on each one, now my face was directly in front of him, my field of vision being just his face and finally, his eyes were focused on mine.

"Don't even think about talking about Historia like that"

If looks could kill, surely I would already be dead on the ground. His grip on my chest was strong, he was even capable of ripping the fabric, but with a push back showed me that it wasn’t strong enough, that everything was a facade. I staggered, almost fell to the ground, but either way, I kept my balance and my expression. I was terrified inside, but I forced myself to keep a stoic look at all time, he was trying to play with me and although I was not entirely sure how much there were just words and how much were an act of anger and violence, I couldn’t dedicate myself to having a hint of doubt.

"Easy, Romeo, I know you're not the daddy...or are you?"

I adjusted my clothes, avoiding his gaze because I knew if I stared into his eyes, I would get a much worse look than the one he gave me a few seconds ago.

"Whatever, you gave me something to work with, Historia knows something and didn't tell us...gee, I wonder why"

I leaned my body against the cold stone. My gaze went everywhere, trying to keep avoiding his eyes and incidentally have a stronger support for my figure.

"The Queen doesn’t have to say anything to anyone"

Ohhh, you little shit.

If that's the game you want to play, then you're going to lose.

Even if his words were absolutely right, we shouldn’t forget that, before she was queen, Historia had been our friend during training and the entire year of accumulated trauma between betrayals and deaths. If we could continue to have conversations with her and were invited to participate in political meetings, then we had every right to be informed of the supposed plan that Eren implanted in our queen's mind.

For a moment I was scared by the physical and emotional state of Historia. Was Eren capable of keeping her threatened? Did he say or do anything to keep her quiet? The questions seemed to have no head or tail, but if Eren was able to grab me the way he did, I can't imagine what he could do to keep someone quiet.

"Yes, you are right, in the same way, trust only the queen before your friends... that’s brave"

I searched the corridor and the cell for something I could use to attract his attention again, if it was necessary for me to use violence against him, I would be willing to do it. My eyes met a chain anchored to the wall, quite a long chain, to tell the truth. And on the other side, reaching almost the middle of the corridor, I could make out a rather dirty cloth.

I glanced at Eren who had sat back down on his bed, head down in his hands, and walked down the hall with one goal in mind. I grabbed the cloth and walked back to the cell, standing in front of the bars. I reached out my hand to the sink and started to clean up what was left of the spilled water.

"It's all soaked, incredible that they keep a cell like this"

Without taking my eyes off the sink, I could hear Eren settling on his bed, perhaps sitting upright. I kept running the dirty cloth over the water, honestly I wasn’t achieving much apart from spreading the now dirty water even more, but I had to continue with the facade of an understandable couple.

"It's a complete mess...were Historia's legs like this when you railed her?"

As before, Eren had quickly stood up, ready to grab my hand that was inside the cell, but I was already better prepared. When I felt his fingers touch my wrist, I turned my hand to anchor it on his arm and draw him towards the bars, having that same arm outside the cell. With half body on the cold metal, my other hand grabbed the missing arm and with all my strength I pulled his limbs towards me, causing his body and head to crash against the bars.

"Do you want to do it the hard way? fine, we'll do it the hard way"

Eren tried to shake off my grip, but the adrenaline rushing through my veins prevented him from loosening even a millimeter. I pushed him and pulled him back to me, stretching his arms even further and hitting his head on the metal.

"What's wrong with you?"

Again, a back and forth motion.

"What is going on in your head?"

Back and forth.

"How much shit can you have in your mind that you are not able to tell your friends?"

Back and forth.

"TELL ME FOR FUCK SAKE!!"

With one last impact, I hit Eren's head and heard the fibers and tendons in his shoulders rip, just as his skin began to stretch and break, revealing the flesh and muscle beneath it. Rivers of blood flowed over his arms, dropping to the floor and turning his skin red.

His head was also bleeding to the side, soaking his torso and rebel hair. A pool of blood formed under our feet. I let go of his arms and then grabbed the chain that was on the wall and chained him. Considering the number of times he hab been chained since his fifteen years, I suppose one more time wouldn't do any harm to his already traumatized mind.

When I saw his hands were secure I dropped to the floor, not caring about the blood that now adorned the cold stone floor. I could feel my ass starting to get soggy and sticky from the substance. I would have to burn this pants when I got out of there.

Both my mind and my breath hitched, enveloping the environment. I tried to calm down and clear my mind to continue this hell of interrogation. I knew I shouldn't have agreed, and now look at what situation I was in.

"You know I can transform and use the power of the warhammer titan to get out of here"

Eren seemed withdrawn from his situation, as if bleeding to death didn't matter in the least. Steam came out of his shoulders, a sign that he was in the process of regeneration and prayed that this process would take a long time to materialize.

“I know…” I tried to calm my voice and breath before speaking again “but if you transform now, you would end up killing me, and killing me means betraying the legion, and betraying them means betraying the people of Paradis… you don 't want that, do you? "

My words may sound sly, but inside I was wanting to run out of there, get under the covers of my bed and sleep until the day of doomsday; I was even wishing to die in that sleep.

"I'm going to stay here until I know once and for all what's going on in your head, because I know that whatever shit is in there… it's killing you."

Now we were both looking into each other's eyes, fighting a battle in silence, seeing who would give up first. We held eye contact for a few long minutes, unable to tell how many. Maybe it was a couple, maybe half an hour or even an hour; whatever the time, I was already getting bored.

"If I had known it would take so long, I would have brought something to read"

"What has you so worried that you can't even tell Hange or the heichou?"

My question came reluctantly out of my mouth, as if my ability to fight was fading. I was already very tired and it seemed like days since I entered the dungeons.

"Noone would be able to understand"

"Oh please! Don't take me for a fool. Do you think that none of them are battling their own inner demons? Do you think that only you can have intrusive thoughts to fight against?"

His comment irritated me to the core. I never found Eren such a selfish person, and to think that a year or so ago he was declaring his unconditional affection to all of his comrades.

What happened in the last year? What changed?

"Each one of them has to face their own internal wars every day"

Before my anger got the best of me, I took a few small breaths, calming myself. I wasn't going to put me on the same level of hatred and misunderstanding as him, even if it meant throwing away all the years we were together.

"Historia surely has to fight against the stress and the multiple responsibilities that being a queen entails, apart from fighting against the offensive comments of the military police"

Maybe the island has been rid of Titans for a long time, but that didn’t take away the fact that shitty people, like those who lived on the Wall Sina, decided to try and continue controlling the poor people who were split the loin so those ungrateful would have a feast every night.

"Connie is struggling every day against losing his other half, his twin"

Connie, Jean, everyone ... EVERYONE! We were fighting and suffering the mourning of Sasha, of our teammates.

"Shit, surely Jean is still struggling with the memory of Marco after so many years"

Yes. No one had forgotten Marco, especially Jean. But we had to learn to keep going on that very day, we couldn't afford to get sentimental and spoil the next missions. From that day on we learned to watch over our dead mates in silence.

"I fight every day against my incompetence"

And now was the time that I could begin to veil my demons once and for all.

Already my body was begging to rest. I had laid my head on the wall and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I heard the chains move at my side, a sign that Eren was moving, but I didn't have the strength to look him in the face.

"I fight every day against the image of Sasha dying in my hands"

I know that memory is going to haunt me until the day I die.

"I fight every day against the memories of our comrades dying in battle"

I saw countless deaths throughout the year 850, so many that I decided to use my knowledge in medicine to help even to stop a bleeding. I still remember the first suture I made to a mate already lost in battle ... I was so excited, so happy to be of such help.

"I fight every day against the idea of ​​not being enough"

But that exaltation led to thousands of failures. People who had bled internally, who had lost an arm and couldn’t get to cauterize, hundreds who had lost half their stomach or head.

"I fight every day against our enemies on the other side of the sea"

I wasn't going to deny it, learning the pure and exclusive truth of the world, I couldn't help but feel a deep hatred for the Marleyans. I wanted them to pay for the countless deaths and suffering they had caused, I wanted to see them burn, but at the same time I wanted a reasonable explanation.

"I fight the memories of the titans devouring our friends"

Memories of the first day in battle, right at our graduation, when we thought that nothing could happen. How naive we were. And to think that that was just the beginning of a long list of events that would bring us to this moment.

"I fight every day along side with the memories of the team escaping from the base and messing it up to enjoy the summer nights"

Memories of when we would sneak into the palace and take Historia with us, enjoying the air in our faces and running in the valleys of the countryside. Memories of when we ran cows for some strange reason at the beginning of the day.

Memories of when we were racing with the 3D movement gear through the great forests outside the city. Memories of the occasional punch in the face against the bark of a tree for not knowing where we were going.

"I fight every day against the image of the big bright turquoise eyes that I fell in love with"

My gaze fell on those same eyes, but instead of finding the description that I wanted to see so much, I only found grayish green eyes, eyes that had lost all their brilliance.

I found eyes full of tiredness and anger for the world. The brilliance that so characterized Eren had been lost; now I would have to settle for a blank stare.

"I fight every day ... against the memory of our return to the rooms and Levi punishing us for weeks"

My voice was breaking as I remembered the nights when only Eren and I would sneak out to spend quality time alone. Those nights where we would lie down to see the stars or to lose ourselves in each other in some meadow.

I look at my hands, they were shaking. I couldn't help but remember the first night we spent together, back then I was shaking too, but Eren's hands on my cheeks dispelled any doubt or fear that I could ever have. I unconsciously smiled at the fond memory and I think Eren did too, as I heard a little laugh coming from him.

But no matter how much smiles and laughter the memories gave me, I had to go on and face the world that was now in front of me.

"I fight every day ... against the idea of ​​running towards you, towards your arms"

Those arms that one day gave me warmth. Those arms that one day hugged and covered me the moment I found out that a mate had died. Those strong arms that I knew were going to protect me from any harm.

"I fight against the hope that this is all a nightmare, that you are going to cradle me in your arms and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that it was just a bad dream"

My gaze returned to his, now filled with tears. It hurt, the cruel truth hurt a lot.

"I fight against the desire to stay by your side"

Eren's face was dark, he had returned to how he was at the beginning, without any trace of that soft laugh I heard a few seconds ago.

"I fight with my inner voice that tells me that everything will be fine, that in a few years it will not hurt as much as it does now"

Maybe ... maybe I can start over and when all this nefarious war is over I can find peace, once and for all, and enjoy my friends.

"I fight to move on"

...

"I fight every day...against you"

That was it.

I stood up heavily, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. The blood on the floor was already dry and had left the entire back of my pants stained. I hadn't noticed that the air had been permeated with the iron smell of blood, making my vomiting reflex worse, even though I had avoided it in a good way all this time.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you"

His figure was already fully regenerated and I knew it was a matter of time before he transformed and left this filthy place. Eren might trust what he was doing was the right thing to do, but if he didn’t accept that in the eyes of the world, that in our eyes, his friends, the only family he had left, couldn’t understand his actions, then there wasn’t much to ask from him.

If he wanted to betray us, let him do it.

“Do what you have to do to fulfill your dream, I don't care anymore. But don't expect for me to sit around and wait for you"

"Are you planning to go to the other side of the sea?"

What a stupid and dubious question at the same time. Was I willing to leave my life in Paradis to start over even in the lands of the enemy?

No, not at all. Why I was no traitor.

"No Eren, I am not going to Marley, my family is here...but you are no longer part of it"

Those words hurt, but they needed to be said; that way I could already start to heal.

"Is that all you have to say?"

I couldn't tell if his words were mocking or a sincere question. But yes, it was all I had to say. I couldn't spend another minute in front of someone I didn't even know anymore.

"It's all I can bear"

I took one last look at the prisoner in the cell before turning and continuing down the long corridor of the dungeons.

"Are you leaving so soon? I thought I heard you would stay as long as it takes for me to speak"

As I reached the door, I took a deep breath of the foul smell of the environment. My hand lay on the doorknob and was half open when his words reached my ears. There was no need to shout from a distance, the echo of the stones made it easy for me to hear the smallest whisper of the perpetrator. I opened the door, but not before dedicating my last words.

"Goodbye Jaeger"

And behind me, I closed the door.

[recurring-polynya]

Renji prompt: The Vice-Captain exam combat exhibition. Who was there to witness it? Who was he fighting? Did anyone have a snide remark? Did Aizen show up to tell him he was proud of Renji overcoming his early troubles? Did Kenpachi ask to do the exhibition and pout when he was told no?

I hope you don’t mind if I take this one as more of a meta than trying to write a fanfic around it. Writing fight scenes is not my favorite, and one extended Vice Captains’ Exam description was enough for me. 😂

I had already decided ages ago that Ukitake and Komamura were the proctors at Renji’s exam (there’s even a mention of this waaaaaaay back in Not Broken, Just Bent).

I love the idea of Aizen lurking around, being Peak Snide, but when he corners Renji during the Soul Society Arc, he says they haven’t seen each other in a long time, so I don’t think he was there. A thing that’s important here is that Hisagi, Hinamori, Kira, Iba, and then finally Renji must have all taken the exam in a fairly tight period (by which I mean a few years, but also everyone’s semi-immortal). I think Aizen tried to have his thumb in most of these, and at this point, Sasakibe’s gotta be like, “you’re always so helpful, Captain Aizen, but I think some of the other captains should be contributing, too!” In any case, I am positive he wrote a long, unsolicited letter of his Renji Opinions that was probably extremely carefully worded to look supportive, but put his “doubts” on record for when he eventually needed to frame Renji for racketeering or something, like you do.

In any case, Aizen didn’t come, but I think Gin did. You’re allowed to invite your friends, and since Renji loves a cheering section, he asked the whole gang. When Kira was like “hey, Captain, I’m gonna go see Abarai’s exam”, Gin was like “Oh, that sounds fun, I’m coming” and he hovered behind Kira the whole time and was Creepy. Fortunately, Iba and the Squad 11 gang are 100% Immune to Bad Vibes and also Very Loud and everyone except Kira basically forgot he was there.

I headcanon that Kenpachi does not give a shit about any sort of Gotei procedures or exams or certifications. I don’t even know how they even get him to go to Captains’ Meetings. I often wonder what Kenpachi even thinks about Renji and Iba, who are good officers and follow his rules, but have career aspirations which frankly, he does not vibe with. Ultimately, I think Zaraki is a live-and-let-live sort of guy. He enjoys having them while he has them, and while he thinks transferring to another squad for a promotion is a dumb idea, he respects that they have their own goals, and he signs whatever forms they ask him to sign without trying to talk them out of it. Anyway, Zaraki can fight Renji any time he wants, under proper Squad 11 rules (one-on-one, no kidou bullshit, fight until someone can’t get up). Zaraki probably has a weekly slot on his schedule for fighting Renji. Zaraki did not attend.

So, who handled Renji’s exhibition fights then? As per my fanfic, Call Me Back When the War is Over, there are 5 demonstration portions of the Vice Captains’ Exam (6 if you choose to do kaido, which Renji did not). The kidou and shunpo demos are solo. The other three are zanjutsu (swordsmanship), hakuda (hand-to-hand) and an anything-goes overall combat readiness demo, each of which is overseen by a volunteer Vice Captain.

As I said earlier, a difficulty that presented itself during Renji’s exam is that a lot of the Vice Captains were brand new, and also his close friends, which closed off a lot of options, but Nanao got it figured out.

For zanjutsu, his opponent was Lieutenant Shirogane, his predecessor at Squad 6. Shirogane had been planning out his retirement for a while, and had been attending and helping with the last few exams, scoping out his own potential replacement. Squad 6 likes well-rounded soldiers, but they do put a heavy emphasis on zanjutsu, particularly formal swordsmanship. Renji was known to be a strong fighter and a good swordsman, and Shirogane (and Byakuya) were very curious to see if he had any actual knowledge of the subject, or if he was just an undisciplined thug like most of Zaraki’s men. Suffice it to say, Shirogane was very impressed, and passed on a glowing recommendation to his boss.

For hakuda, Renji had to go up against Nemu. Nemu doesn’t often help out with exams, but like I said, there had been a lot of exams recently, and Nanao sent a bunch of increasingly nasty memos to Kurotsuchi until he gave in and let her help. This was actually a pretty decent draw for Renji-- he is strong and fast, and decent at hakuda, but it’s not his strongest subject, and he spent a bunch of time boning up on the standard moves for the test. Nemu is also very strong and fast, and very by-the-book. In other words, the test was very predictable and true to form with no surprises, and Renji was able to make a good showing, even if she did pin him in the spar.

I hope you’re ready for this, but Renji had to do his overall combat demo against… Matsumoto. Matsumoto likes to act like a lazy slob, but she is actually very strong and smart and well-rounded and tricky. She is significantly older and more experienced than Renji and also, I headcanon that she has a lot of fighting skills that she holds in reserve (in particular, some absolutely brutal hakuda that Isshin taught her). Renji had been trying to get her to fight him seriously for years and she never would, so he got really hype when he found out who he was going up against. Rangiku was prepared for Renji to be tough, but as it happens, Haineko is a lot like Senbonzakura in terms of techniques one might use against them, and Renji turned out to be smarter than she expected, too. That being said, it was an incredible fight, and they ran out the time without a clear winner (although Renji’s hair was on fire, which probably would have become a problem eventually). Renji had a great time and is dying to fight her again; Matsumoto spent the following week refusing to do anything because she was “too tired.”

The upshot is that Renji’s exam was super fun to watch (except for the kidou section, which was Sad, but everyone cheered for him anyway, and at least it was over quickly). The other captains who showed up to watch were Kyouraku (because Nanao and Juushirou were there and also because he loves shirking) and Hitsugaya (because he likes to watch Rangiku fight and he vaguely knows Renji through Hinamori). Renji made a really good impression both with his skills and his enthusiasm, and I think that is one of the reasons he is later noted to be “well-liked by all the captains.”

Thanks for the ask, this one was a lot of fun to think about!

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

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

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

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

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

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

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

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

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

Click. Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe you think too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me help you,” he offers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So fucking good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you even listening to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

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

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

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

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

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

“Oh no.”

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

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

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And Frizzle?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me away from my own brain.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re coming with me then?”

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

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But… why…?”

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

“Oof. She a bitch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like Grump?”

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

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

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

“Peaches?”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Of course.”

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

“I meant to ask about those…”

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

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

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

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really want to know?”

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

“You have to promise not to tell.”

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

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

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

“So what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Jimin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

[isa-ghost]

yo, i saw your addition to the "tubbo&ranboo are probably haunted" post! though i dont really believe in paranormal sruff, i do find it interesting. can you talk about it more? like why do you not want your friends to use ouija boards and stuff?

I'll gently nudge you in the direction of looking up what the "Zozo Demon" is for starters with Ouija Boards. Feel free to look up more stuff about it aside from that link, though you'll probably come across stuff dismissing the "legend" too so idk. When it comes to trying to research this kinda stuff you get a big mixed bunch of results since skeptics and whatnot exist so you don't know what to believe. >:/ I also recommend watching the episode of Ghost Adventures where they investigated the Zozo Demon as well. The way the woman who lives in the house reacts is terrifying, if nothing else in the episode is convincing to you.

As I'm looking for some sources that may elaborate on dangers involving the boards, there's some stuff debunking the fear instilled around them, but I'm not completely convinced. I'm also finding sources clarifying its not the boards that are dangerous, but the communicating they're used for that can be. Overall, I've heard/seen enough to not want to personally touch one, nor have my friends touch one. I think it comes down to experience and what you see. But its better to just. Not risk it if things you find aren't convincing enough for you to be cautious.

I feel like its probably memed a lot (at least Zak is lol) but Ghost Adventures has a lot of raw as fuck, convincing paranormal evidence in general- a lot of which you CAN'T refute. I could give a short list of shit they've captured that STILL lives rent free in my head when I get on the topic of ghost hunting and the existence of spirits/entities.

There's also a semi-recent episode where they return to a location they've investigated a lot. A deceased fellow investigator & good friend of theirs contacted them through multiple pieces of their equipment and I don't think ANYONE could dismiss what happened without looking really stupid and desperate to keep denying the paranormal's existence. It's probably one of the most mind-blowing bits of evidence I've ever seen captured. I could elaborate, or attempt to find the episode to watch for free.

[etirabys]

The solution to “the lesbians I read about aren’t horrible enough” is, of course, to roll your own. Here’s what I’ve been dreaming up recently (warning: this story idea was simply formed by throwing together every lesbian fiction nutrient I currently feel deprived of, I have not designed it to be ‘good’ at all):

Frances Hareva is a military strategist for the ruling planet of an interplanetary civilization, Mars Delta. Actually, she’s not the military strategist – Zlanna is. Zlanna is the AI who takes input from a massive interplanetary surveillance network and provides most of the brainpower for the job. But the values and core decisionmaking is provided by a human hooked up to Zlanna, who is constantly trained for alignment with the collective will of her planet. Some three years into this extremely demanding job that's damaging her brain in certain ways, Frances orders a hit on a ruling family of a rebellious colony planet, Ftam Quedir. She leaves alive the adoptive daughter, Safi.

Safi is a product of heavy genetic engineering, and Frances predicts she will become an influential moderate representative of pro-gene-engineering, an ethical and material issue that's promising to be divisive enough to lead to interplanetary war. Frances has had very little meaningful human contact for several years, and while doing a job that involves spying on millions of people, some of the people she watches have drifted into the friend-shaped hole. Something that is not quite apparent to her superiors, or to Frances herself until she recommends/orders the assassination, is that she’s become very fond of Safi while surveilling the Quediram clan, and has clouded judgment about her.

Soon after making that call, Frances has a nervous breakdown that impedes her relationship with the AI, and is quietly shipped off to a university to spend all her efforts getting an art degree under a false name, which her superiors figure is a humane way of getting rid of her in a way that doesn't embarrass them.

Safi had an ambiguous relationship with her family, who took her in and gave her a very good life, but also were terrible in some ways. Several months into growing into an interplanetary activist of the exact type that Frances expected her to be, Safi realizes that someone meant to set her on this life path by killing her family, rage quits, and disappears from the public eye. She spends time tracking down everyone involved in the hit so she can ruin their lives. She's 18 and a hothead, more than Frances knew.

Frances is on the top of the hit list, so Safi enrolls in the university she's hiding out at as an undergrad (thereby, yes, making this a college fic – look, I've always wanted to write one), also in disguise. She manages to make contact with Frances by enrolling in a class with her. Frances obviously recognizes her but has no idea what Safi is doing here; Safi's first layer of disguise to almost everyone is "normal vaguely foreign student", her second layer of disguise to Frances specifically is "Safi, but she wants a normal life for a while and an education on the ruling planet, and has no idea who Frances is".

There's some dancing around for a while where Safi befriends Frances, maybe roping her into some intensive and actually interesting school project. Safi spends these months trying to ruin Frances's life in RELATIVELY MUNDANE, PETTY WAYS like guilt-tripping her, getting her apartment burgled, and outing her in a planetary culture where being a lesbian is mildly to moderately stigmatized because it's strongly associated with the semi-fringe monarchist movement, all while observing her to design a coup de grace optimized to make Frances as miserable as possible. Meanwhile, in normal life, they are forming a surprisingly strong connection. (They may make out a bit at this point, Safi arranging it so that Frances immediately turns her down but gets flustered and guilty about it, because Safi is playing a sexually inexperienced undergrad who'll be crushed if the first gay contact she tries to make goes badly.)

Safi quickly figures out that, after all that work tracking down her nemesis, Frances is a total wreck of a person who isn't at all satisfying to ruin because she’s already a huge mess. Lots of rage sloshing around with nowhere to go. Also by this point they definitely want to bang each other and are horrified by it. There's a big confrontation where they shed their secret identities, where Safi really lays it in and then leaves. Frances, in the aftermath, decides that her redemption lies in shaping up and being a satisfying enemy for Safi to take down, and so does everything she can to get herself together and become the perfect political rival...

("Eti, please stop, we get it, you kink on –")

With Frances taking the lead on the shape of their new relationship, Safi steps into the dance, into a Locke-and-Demosthenes dynamic where what they say in public is largely reflective of real personal differences in opinion, but also a deliberate partnership to optimize the debate between them itself to lead their civilization away from war. They do this without ever coordinating personally on their goals.

(They say things like "That said, Miss Frances, I cannot wait to take your argument apart. You have published a 35 page supplementary tract on your views since then and I have read it with interest. ... Attached is my 44-point list of objections, follow up questions, and what I believe to be convincing takedowns to the general Mars Deltan audience with an open mind.")

// At this point I lose conviction in what happens next – I’ve filled something out but it’s not inspired, the stuff I really care about is [gestures above].

This is the case for the next several years or so. They are completely and stupidly obsessed with each other and spy on each other. Safi goes and has a defiantly prolific sex life, hoping that Frances will be upset about it. Frances, incidentally, is not, but she tries to return the favor by going on some dates (which Safi does get het up about) although she's too demi to actually sleep with anyone. Eventually, they start a secret line of correspondence – probably Safi starts it after Frances misses too many therapy appointments and says something snippy about it – that over time turns into what's undeniably love letters.

At some point, one of them has a real personal crisis and the other one just materializes at their doorstep. The one who's having a crisis ignores everyone else, grabs their visitor's hand, and pulls her into the bedroom. They don't leave for a couple of days.

More faffing about Whether We Can Do This, which is rendered moot by the fact that they find it impossible to stay away from each other. Agony. Frances comes up with a long, multi-year plan for arranging their public lives to intersect in a way that naturally culminates in their getting married. Safi shoots off five emails arguing about the pre-nup and quibbling about the strategy, before belatedly realizing that Frances just proposed marriage and Safi... wanted it so obviously much that she never even considered contesting the premise of the plan.

There are some hiccups but they execute this fine and get married. Oh shit oh shit oh shit what now. Frances might be sufficiently neuroatypical that, Derek Parfit style, she can't handle actually living with her spouse and they largely conduct their relationship over the phone and meet once a week to talk irl, cuddle, and fuck.

[the-black-birb]

scars [kuroo]

Pairing: Inked!Kuroo Tetsurou x Tattoo artist!Reader

Summary: Kuroo still holds on to the memories of his high school romance.

A/N: I wanted to write this piece as a birthday gift for @heccingdead bc she writes some of the best angst I’ve read!! But I feel like it got a little out of hand ahflashfslfakslfk also this was highkey inspired by @allywritesimagines and the idea of philophobia

Warnings: implied abuse, minor Kuroo x Daishou, strong language

Kuroo had always been proud of his tattoos, dancing over his body like a mosaic. In the year following high school, he’d gathered so many that at times he wondered if he had more ink than skin.

It was almost addicting, the feel of the needle buzzing over his skin leaving his senses numb. At parties they kept him grounded, always a topic of conversation. He’d trained himself to recall the stories of each – just enough that it wasn’t too personal – without even thinking about it.

He was always delighted to talk about his tattoos – in part because it meant talking about you. At first, it was just normal praise for the artist. “She’s amazing!” he’d tell his friends. “I definitely recommend her; she’s done all of mine.” Of course, he’d gush and fawn over the person who helped him garner so much attention.

But recently, his commentary was becoming a bit different. “She kicked my ass at mario kart,” he told Kenma, who just groaned. Beating Kuroo at mario kart didn’t mean much.

“Her rice cakes taste amazing,” he beamed when him and Bokuto got their weekly brunch. “She taught me how to make them but I can’t get them quite right…”

Bokuto nodded solemnly, taking in all of Kuroo’s excitement. “So, you’re whipped?” was his conclusion after the fourth brunch in a row Kuroo brought up his escapades with you.

“Huh?” Kuroo looked up from his omelet to Bokuto’s owlish eyes. “Nah, man,” he laughed. “She’s just a cool person, you know? Not many people can be artists and bakers and-“

“Gamers,” Bokuto finished, smirking at Kuroo. “You’ve said.”

Before Kuroo could protest once again, Bokuto (to his friend’s relief) changed the subject to ease Kuroo’s discomfort. But the words still lingered in his mind.

You were a lot of things to Kuroo. A business acquaintance at first (and the only tattoo artist near him that he could afford fresh out of high school) but recently a friend and confidant as well. It couldn’t be helped; if you were to hand draw each and everyone of his tattoos and hear his stories full and uncensored you were bound to become close with him.

But he knew there was more to it than that. He’d been drawn to you from the start.

“So why do you want to get a tattoo?” you’d asked him when he first went to consult you. At the time he had no idea who you were, or rather what you would become to him, and he had nothing to lose, really. Assuming this tattoo would be his last and he’d never have to worry about you again, he gave you the honest truth.

“I wanted to cover this up,” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his forearm and the large scar that adorned it. He expected you to wince at how ugly it was or at least show some sort of pity (people usually did, it was why he covered it up), but instead you stared at it like a painting. You didn’t have to say anything to him, for your eyes screamed beautiful as you gazed upon him like a miner finally striking gold. He wanted to shrink under your gaze, to become smaller and smaller. But you were so passionate he couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never done a tattoo over a scar,” you admitted (which wasn’t particularly surprising considering you were his age). “But I’d like to give it a shot. If you don’t mind me asking, how did this happen?” You didn’t miss the way Kuroo flinched away from you when you asked, but were polite enough not to bother him over it.

“Well, I got into a knife fight…” he started teasingly, deflecting the question. If he came up with enough funny stories, usually whoever asked would stop bothering him.

“Hilarious,” you cut him off with a straight face. “Give me the real story or don’t bother,” you asked, cleaning your supplies. There was certainly no fooling you. Kuroo swallowed, chest tight at the memory. Well, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose, except pride.

“There was an incident with a clothing iron,” he explained slowly, thinking back to it. “I got into an argument with my ex…” He tripped over his words. The scars was old news but his relationship status was still fresh in his mind. “…while I was doing laundry and lost track of the iron.” His voice trailed off as he gulped. You’d probably laugh at him or pity him or say something that made him want to get up and leave immediately, all ideas of a tattoo forgotten.

Instead, you kept rummaging through your supplies without faltering. “Must’ve hurt like a bitch,” you hummed, unfazed.

“So what tattoo were you thinking of?” you inquired, sitting in front of him with a blank paper and pencil and an excited smile that Kuroo would never forget. “Let’s talk.”

It was the start of an unlikely friendship. His first tattoo (a beautiful chain of red flowers, each representing one of his teammates from his old volleyball team) was gorgeous, so much so that he found himself coming back for more. To his surprise, you always asked him why he wanted a tattoo (although he supposed you already had to know the meaning in order to draw it so there wasn’t much use in asking) and he never hesitated to answer.

Except for one time, when he asked for a small semi-colon on the area behind his ear. He’d asked you for it out of the blue, knowing it was simple enough for you to sit him down and do it quickly. But his pale face and blown out eyes had you skipping the usual questions and consultations, choosing instead of make him wait until after you got off work to drag him back to your apartment where you could listen to him in the peace and quiet of a home.

He supposed that was when you two become more than just an artist and customer. You were eerily perceptive and so you’d already known plenty about Kuroo; you’d etched his whole identity into his body after all, but this was the first time the two of you allowed it to leave the workplace.

At such a brutally slow pace he hadn’t even realized it, you had seeped into all the cracks in his perfect exterior. In all his ramblings to you about this tattoo and that tattoo and what they all meant, you’d somehow become his crutch to hold him up while he fell apart.

It was his fault, after all, that he’d trust you with so much information. Every tattoo had a story, and he knew most of them weren’t pretty. Yet you always took them in stride, never making him feel like any less of a person.

He wanted (read: wished) that were reason enough to love you, but he knew that wasn’t true. He was a sob story in the making and you were electric. Your eyes made him feel like he was on fire, as if the world he’d been living in was a shitty blockbuster movie and you were about to make it an award-winning novel. You were addicting and loving and you made Kuroo hopeful. But he’d long given up on waiting for a happy ending. Even if Bokuto was right, you deserved better than him.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in your friendship (or your rice cakes). A casual friendship was safe; he could laugh and joke and pretend you didn’t know why he still covered his arm with the scar even after covering it up or why he’d never quite see volleyball the same way again. As friends and away from your workplace, none of that mattered.

And so, he hadn’t hesitated in welcoming you into his home that same night even as Bokuto’s words bounced around in his head (he couldn’t skip out on movie night, after all. It was tradition!).

“What’d you bring tonight?” he asked teasingly. It was routine: after you’d found out Kuroo had yet so see a single one of your shitty rom coms, you took responsibility to make sure he saw every single one. You’d supply the movie; he’d supply the snacks. It was normal for you at this point.

“Ten Things I Hate About You,” you grinned, smile so infectious he felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“It better be than the last one,” Kuroo quipped (the last one was pretty in pink and Kuroo just couldn’t wrap his head around why Ducky didn’t get the girl), but before you could retort he was off to his kitchen to prepare the popcorn.

Without invitation, you made quick work of setting his living room up for movie night. This, too, was part of your unspoken agreement, especially when he started leaving extra blankets and pillows out for you to work with. When he entered back in with cinnamon-coated popcorn (it was your favorite), you’d already had everything up.

He whistled, settling in beside you. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he observed. As always you grinned up at him, curling up into his side as he held the bowl for you to share.

“You gave me more to work with,” you responded, grabbing the remote to set up the movie.

Kuroo tried his best to relax next to you, but Bokuto’s words were still swarming in his head. He couldn’t like you, it was too dangerous. You were already everywhere, all over his body and in the food, he ate and the shows he watched. If he were to fall for you and if anything were to end badly, he’d be heart broken.

Too soon Kuroo’s mind was brought back to the end of high school, talking with Nohebi’s captain. Deciding to never talk to him again, covering up all traces of him from his body. Getting tattoo after tattoo to forget him and rid his body of all traces of him.

“You should leave.” Kuroo was speaking but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

You turned towards him, looking hurt but unsurprised. “What’s wrong?” you asked, hand squeezing his forearm supportively. He hated the look way your eyes looked at him. He wished you’d look at him with pity like everyone else did. It would’ve been so much easier if you looked at him like he was only a ghost of the past, the same way Kenma and Bokuto did whenever they stopped themselves from mention “taboo topics.” Like volleyball and Daishou and clothing irons.

But you didn’t pity him or baby him. Your eyes weren’t scared at his sudden outburst or worried to approach him. All he saw was understanding. You knew. Of-fucking-course you knew. You, who helped him cover up all his scars. You, who let him stay at your apartment whenever his started to feel too big for one person. You, who suggested he got a tattoo to remind him to breathe (4-7-8, written in your handwriting) and he took it.

Kuroo wanted to be proud of his tattoos, that covered his body as his own personal shield. He wanted to admire your handiwork and relish in the way he could forget about who he had been before them. But he knew they were simply reminders of unseen scars. He swore he was healing while he bled out, haunted by memories of the past.

“Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” you told him, voice like a promise. He knew it was true, that he could tell you and you’d coddle him while he cried and make him feel like the only person in the entire world. He knew you were magic; you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that something was wrong. Your electric eyes saw him.

But all he could think about was a steaming hot iron and the apologies that followed. He pictured empty apology after empty promise and letting it excuse pain and tears too many times. He could barely recall how difficult it was to unwind himself from a web of being loved only when it was convenient, how it took him months to realize something was wrong.

Kuroo knew being with you would make him feel loved, but he was so damn scared he couldn’t love you back. He couldn’t bare the thought of using you in the same way he had been used.

“You should leave,” he repeated, pulling his arm away from your touch. He wished he could linger in it, but he was certain too much and he’d be addicted.

He wanted (read: hoped) you would argue with him just a bit. Tell him you wouldn’t leave him alone like this and pull him towards you like they always did in your shitty rom coms. But they were actors who knew what came next, and you were real. So real that he could reach out and hold you close and so selfless that you knew when it was time to leave.

You didn’t say anything to him as you backed away, grabbing your things. Kuroo was frozen in place, worried if he moved that he would forget the warmth of your hand on his arm. He knew he fucked up, but he could handle that. He made mistakes all the time. It was easier this way, he was sure.

Until you were one foot out of the door, looking back at him. “You know,” you whispered, eyes looking somewhere far away from his apartment. “You’re not the only one with baggage.” Your voice trembled. “Even if you were, it’s lighter to carry it together.”

Kuroo wished you had slammed the door shut behind you so he didn’t have to sit up straight, only to see you were gone. Even without you in the apartment, your presence was everywhere. All over his body and in his damned pillow fort and in the cinnamon spread over his popcorn. Even when you were gone, he was still with you.

He rolled his head back, not sure what to do. Numbly, he found his way to his phone to send a quick text to Bokuto.

You were right.

Right about now he’d usually think about getting a new tattoo, maybe text you to spitball an idea. He sighed as he leaned back into the blankets you had so gleefully set up for them to share. “I guess that’s not an option anymore.”

None of it made sense to Kuroo. His last breakup was liberating, like a breath fresh of air, and here was on a Saturday night about to watch a romcom to forget about you. He was certain it was some sort of cruel irony that it was only now he was starting to realize how hurt and in love he’d been.

He wondered (read: prayed) if he’d find salvation in you yet again.

[temporoom]

Kind of wanted to get this out of my mind quickly, so uhm... kind of a personal post? Semi-vent with heartfelt ending? Anyway. If you are uncomfortable with this feel free to just keep scrolling.

WARNING: Internalized homophobia, dubious consent (?)

One of the things that has been bothering me recently is my sexuality. It’ll probably seem weird to old followers because I never hid being bisexual, and most of stories reflect that (since I write all my characters bisexual unless mentioned otherwise). But recently, my certainty was doubted. And I’ve been thinking back to who I am attracted to.

Back in January, I got a boyfriend, with whom I broke up with a first time after a few weeks, before getting back together only a week after, and definitely broke up with him around a month ago. The reason for that was mostly because of the sudden and brutal realization that I might be just not attracted to men at all.

I luckily didn’t grew up in an environment that would make me ashame of whatever sexuality I might have, but my father always insisted on perpetuating lineage for some reasons, and since my father’s way of thinking corresponded to me more, it also stuck in my head in a way. And so, I always imagined my future with a man despite knowing I was attracted to girls, because I wanted to stay true to that principle (and also because I liked the idea of being married and having children). But that future was only seen as something that would suddenly happen, and I never actually imagined having a passionate relationship with anyone. In my head, I would be single and then married, without any of the in-between that normal couples would have. Romances described by others was nice to witness, and I enjoy it, but I never saw it for myself.

And then, I went from single to the social statue of being in a “couple”. Not only did I lost that statue of being single, but then I realized that I had to be with another human being. That realization was one of the reasons I broke up the first time. I wasn’t ready. But it was tense at home at the moment and I ended up being touch-starved and needing something outside of the safe environment I grew up in, and so I accepted going out with him again after he asked me while I was in a moment of weakness. (He is a very cool guy don’t worry)

The first time I was confused, because I never imagined anyone falling for me ever, and the first person who asked me to go out with them just happened to be head over heels for me (no one asked me out before, and no one ever fell in love with me before). So I thought that I might just needed to clarify our feelings, and put some effort in the relationship to make it work out this time. I was feeling bad for this poor guy who I was treating as a test subject for relationships, but I really needed to think about something else at that moment. And so I put the effort. I held his hands, I accepted physical contact, I acted sweet and all... 

And it felt like a performance. Which in a way I knew it was, because I knew I wasn’t in love like he was in love with me. 

I thought it was fine, and I could keep up like this. After all, he was everything I could ask for in a guy, and I should be happy. And so I put in the effort... And the relationship advanced quicker than I would have expected. 

As he was touching me, I suddenly felt like I was dissociating, I was seeing myself on the third person, controlling a character and not my own body. “I’ve seen it act like this, so I should do like this right?” before I realize it, it was starting to become too close to something too deep, and when I came back to my senses... I was terrified. I was terrified and scared. He kindly asked me if I wanted to stop, and I said yes. He hugged me for a while, and I waited, eyes open in the dark, for him to fall asleep so I could sneak out of bed. He noticed, and let me be, moving a way. I stayed there, eyes open in the dark, heart beating fast, but it was nothing romantic, just irrational fear. I ended falling asleep for a couple of hourse before waking up earlier than I ever did. I went to the bathroom with my clothes in my arms, dressing up there before he could my body again, and then I sat at the end of the bed on the ground, staring at the wall, feeling like I would cry.

I came to the same conclusion as before, doing someything with another human being was just plain terrifying. But something else came to me at that moment... the face of a girl I knew back in high school. This girl was a rollercoaster of emotion for me, she had a boyfriend but was flirty with anyone, and when she had noticed that she had an effect on me... She had taken full advantage on it. Grazing my arm in class with her nails, hugging me tight while pressing her entire body against mine, showing herself of to me in the changing room after gym class... She had drove me crazy. She was also the one who made me realize I could have sexual desire... What I didn’t had with my boyfriend at that moment.

I thought back to when she had allowed me to touch her stomach, how my body had felt like I was burning, the electricity coursing through it just from the contact of my hand with her skin... When it had been with my boyfriend... It had felt empty, and I had quickly went back to analyzing the forms of the body like an anatomy book. 

And sitting on the ground, staring at the wall, the dim light of the morning lightening up the room, I realized I liked girls. Only girls. 

I wasn’t sure at that moment, so I was still denying it in my head. “No I just can’t make it work out with him. It’s fine. Maybe I will find someone else, and I will have children, and everyone will be happy and... My brother can’t have children, my sister can’t either... If I can’t, if I can’t then I will be useless.” I ended up messaging a friend about it, because I needed to vent to someone, and she listened willingly, but agreed that she couldn’t really help me on that matter. And I knew that even with seeing a therapist, I was the only one who could know. 

Words from friends and family came back to my mind as days passed by “I imagined a future where we had families, and you were married to a beautiful woman.”, “You often talk about girls, but you don’t seem attracted to men.”...

“What do you prefer?” She had asked in the dark classroom, her eyelashes fluttering, her fingers tracing patterns on my arms, a sly smile on her pink lips. “Boys... or girls?”

“Both.” I replied quickly, my breath getting caught in my throat, I could feel the red burning on my cheeks. 

She hummed, as if she knew, as if she knew I wanted to reply “You.”

As if reading my mind, youtube started recommending me Tiktok compilations of lesbians Tiktok. It was stupid, but I needed answers, and so I clicked on the video.... and then another... and a third... It was enjoyable to watch, but nothing gave me a clear answer. It was always of girls confident in their sexuality, or who wanted to show off their relationship... It didn’t help me. And then one thing stood out between them all, a skit explaining how internalized homophobia worked on lesbians.

Attracted to fictional male character, but not real men.

Wants to date girls, but see themselves marrying a man. 

Reassured by being identified as bisexuals...

Some other stuff too. But those three stood out to me. And another on poped up, about a woman explaining how anxiety can make some girls confuse it for attraction due to the similar feeling of nervousness it gives. 

At that point, I knew I was a lesbian, and I had broken up with boyfriend for good this time. Yet, I couldn’t accept it.

“What scares you about being attracted to girls?” Asked my mother, a sorry look in her eyes, as if she was asking what she did wrong to make me feel that way.

As if I could cry at any moment, my emotions tried to fight with my reasons. “I don’t know.” It didn’t make sense, ther was nothing rational about fearing being attracted to women. 

I started dreaming of heterosexual relationships, dreams that I would live like nightmares, as if I was back with him, performing again, smiling like a good girlfriend and doing what people asked me to... One was sexual, it wasn’t consensual, but I couldn’t see his face, so I thought it was “fine”. If I couldn’t see the face it was fine. There was no logical reasons to be afraid. Maybe I was attracted to men after all? Maybe I could still not be a disappointment...

Why did it bothered me so much? It wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s just how society works, it wants you to find your little box to fit, and you have to act like it, where is your box? Where is the box you fit in? But I couldn’t fit in the box I wanted to, I couldn’t, neither as a bisexual person, or as a lesbian liked described in all the videos I’ve seen. 

I felt more uncomfortable each day. Being with a human was terrifying, being attracted to girls was terrifying...

This night I dreamt of kissing a girl. She wasn’t someone I had knew, and yet, her face was detailed, as if she had been real, and right before me at that very moment. We talked, and her voice was soft, and our lips touched, and my body was mine, not one fabricated by my mind, and she said it was beautiful. She smiled, and I felt... at peace. Like I could see a future with this girl I just met. Our hands touched, and I woke up alone. The memory of her lips still on me.

It was my first time dreaming of a girl like this, and it was nothing like any dreams I had before, it made me feel good, at peace, as if it was where I belonged, and where I was meant to belong all my life. 

“I like girls.” I thought, and then I smiled. “I like girls.”

And I couldn’t get why I was afraid before, because that feeling of love I had felt in my dream was amazing. It was more real than anything I had felt before. I wanted to cherish it. 

This morning I woke up, thinking that I like girls. That it was alright to just think that, hope for that, and hope for something else as well. And I felt at peace.

I’m sorry to my ex if you’re reading this, you did nothing wrong, you were the best guy anyone could ask for... I’m just gay. And it’s time for me to accept it once and for all. 

Oh and thank you to anyone who read it until the end. I’m sorry I had to vent here, but I felt like I had to write it somehwere. Thank you for being patient with me!

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

Since The People have Spoken, here's a post about some of my plants that are struggling, why I think they're struggling, what I'm trying to do about it, and some general advice.

This is very long so read more under the cut!

First, some pictures:

Top: rattlesnake calathea. Two: silver pothos. Three: anthurium & orchid in semi-hydroponics. Bottom: spiderplant.

As you can see, none of them look quite right.

Basically all plants need 3 things to thrive: sunlight, water, and nutrients. The tricky thing is getting the amounts per plant right. Different plants have different needs, depending on what kind of plant you got, where it got grown as a wee babe, what the conditions in the space its in are like, etc.

So here's the Big Issue. Most plant people will fall into one of two categories: underwaterers and overwaterers. Basically most people either forget to water/don't water enough, or water way too much. I'm in the second category. Overwatering, especially in pots without drainage, means the roots end up having 'wet feet'. There are some plants that can survive this, and even some that like it or need it to survive. Most plants however, will end up getting root rot, which is exactly as it says on the tin: the roots are starting to rot. This is the problem for most of the plants in my pictures, too. Root rot is notoriously hard to fix, and for some plants it will just be too late no matter what I try. Overwatering also causes all kinds of fungi issues (I once accidentally had little mushrooms growing in a plant container) and pest problems. 

In this post, I’ll especially focus on overwatering, since that’s my biggest problem and also the one I’m most familiar with. You can also have underwatering, sunlight, pests, or nutrient deficiency issues, though. Sunlight is generally easy to fix: just put the plant somewhere else. Nutrient deficiency is hard, and for that one you really need to look at specific symptoms and see what to do about it. Pests are also hard, and how to deal with them depends on what you have. 

(btw, mold on the surface soil is not really a problem, but if you want to get rid of it just put some cinnamon on it.)

SO, the best way to find out if you have waterlogging issues/ root rot is by 1) checking if the soil dries out at all in between waterings, and 2) by completely pulling the plant out and actually checking its roots. Healthy roots are firm and don't smell funky. Rotting roots tend to be an unhealthy colour (usually brown/black but it depends on the plant), they can be slimy, they squish when you press them, and sometimes have a rotting smell.

(If you *underwater*, plants tend to wilt and become pale, and when you do water, the water will often pool on the surface and take a while to sink through. Healthy soil immediately absorbs water.)

Now for the calathea: mine has root rot, and I had it on the windowsill for maybe 2 days (spoiler: it hated it). This one likes to have moisture in the air but not around the roots. It doesn't like full sunlight, drafts, or being moved. They're very fussy plants, and I wouldn't recommend them to a beginner. For this one, I recently changed out the old, waterlogged soil, and replaced it with fresh soil mixed with perlite, which helps drain soil. I also put gravel in the bottom of the main container, so I can put water in there instead and have that evaporate for some moisture, although I'm not doing that right now. I also moved it back to its old spot, away from my window. It is growing a new leaf, and all the other ones are still upright, so I hope it'll bounce back!

The silver pothos is a plant originally from the forests of Thailand, and it generally likes indirect light, enough water but not too much, good drainage, and some space. Mine, unsurprisingly, probably has root rot. I'll admit I've been super lazy with this one, since I basically just cut it up a bit, shoved some new soil on top of the old soil, put the cuttings in, and put it right back where it was. Pro tip: don't do that????????? I should at some point (soon) put it in a well draining container with completely fresh soil.

I frankly don't know what's up with the spiderplant. Could be root rot, the plant could be root bound (this happens when it outgrows the container and the soil is basically replaced by roots). I haven't really looked into this one yet, I've really just laughed at how stupid it looks like this.

Now the anthurium & orchid: I've always struggled with these species, they've never quite worked well for me. It happens, everyone has plant species they vibe with and ones they really don't vibe with. The anthurium was dying already (root rot! Is anyone even surprised anymore at this point lmao), and I had it in full hydroponics (aka just water) for a bit before moving on to this as an experiment in s/h, because I'd been watching youtube videos and wanted to try. It's uh. Not working. Although as long as some of the leaves are still standing upright I'm going to keep trying.

The orchid was really just a victim of my experiments. It was doing fine before this. Again, as long as the leaves look alright I'll keep trying, but I've been fully prepared for these two to die since the moment I started this experiment.

The lessons learned and that I want to impart on you young grasshoppers:

1) use inner containers and outer containers, and make sure the inner ones have lots of holes in the bottom, or just have an outer pot with a saucer. Remember to keep the size of the plant in mind: pots that are too big hold more water and will cause root rot more easily. Too small and the plant will basically suffocate.Throw out the water that's drained out of the bottom, since the soil's probably saturated and leaving it will just cause issues.

2) look up what kind of plant you have and what it generally likes in terms of water and sunlight. Some species will literally burn their leaves in full sunlight, some need lots of sunshine to thrive. Some like moist soil and lots of humidity (jungle plants), some need it dry (most succulents/cacti)

3) try to pay attention to whether you tend to underwater or overwater, and instead of trying to change yourself, change which kind of plants you focus on. I know I overwater, and I know monsteras and banana plants love lots of water and thus love me too. Get succulents / drought resistant plants if you underwater.

4) some plants will just die even if you do everything right. It happens to the best of us. Chuck it out and try again. I promise it's okay ❤

Hope this dispels the idea that I'm some sort of plant wizard, and that it helped someone out! Of course there can be other issues than watering, but this is by far the most common issue and definitely the first thing to check if there's a problem.

[flirting-with-psychology]

🌸✨WILDFLOWER-APOLLO’S 300 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL✨🌸

LETS GET PERSONAL!

1. what’s your full name? 

No

2. when’s your birthday? 

November 26

3. what does your URL mean? 

I like psychology and I like thinking about crushes

4. who’s your celebrity crush? T

om Hiddleston

5. are you single or taken? 

Taken

6. rant. let it all out babe. 

Fuck jobs fuck capitalism 

7. are you named after anyone? 

My grandmother

8. do you have or want children? if so, how many? 

Possibly, if so then 2

9. do you relate to any fictional characters? 

Yeah, several. The ones that come to mind are Gatsby and Queen Regina

10. do you have any plants? 

Yes

11. what are you currently wearing? 

A jumper

12. describe your aesthetic in emojis. 

I’m on my laptop lol, not gonna try to do a survey on my phone

13. do you have any bad habits? 

Oh yes. Procrasting, instant gratification, being late, eating like crap, obsessing over stuff

14. what’s your sexuality? 

Mostly straight

15. what’s the last song you sang? 

Currently singing The Rose Song from HSMTMTS

16. what are your favorite colors? 

Pink, green, blue

17. are you and introvert, ambivert, or extrovert? 

Ambivert

18. describe your current mood in emojis. 

Again, laptop

19. is there anyone you’d do anything for? 

Probably not anything

20. what fascinates you? 

Random stuff, currently chemistry, music, crafts, and space

21. favorite artists? 

Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo

22. what outfit makes you feel confident? 

Fancy dresses

23. favorite flower? 

Idk

24. favorite season? 

Fall

25. favorite tv show/movie? 

TV show: Friends. Movie: Back to the Future

26. what do you like in a person?

Sense of humor, easy to talk to, common interests, attractive

27. least favorite color?

Idk maybe like muddy yellow

28. first crush?

Aidan in kindergarten

29. how long do you usually sleep?

When I don’t set an alarm, till like 1pm

30. what celebrity do people say you look like?

None really. I think I look like Lea Michele but I’m probably not that pretty

31. favorite scent?

Citrus

32. do you have/want any pets? if so, how many?

I don’t have any currently, I have had 4 cats and I want to get another cat

33. what color is your hair naturally? if you could dye it any color, what would it be?

Brown, I want to try a red ombre

34. do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Pretty good

35. do you take a yearly vacation?

No

36. what is your biggest fear?

Spiders

37. what do you wear to bed?

PJs or a nightgown

38. best memory?

Idk

39. best feeling you’ve ever experienced?

Probably when everyone liked my video or jokes, or when a crush likes me back

40. best gift you’ve ever received?

Half of the cost of my car

41. what’s your skincare routine?

Wash it once a day, rinse face twice a day, moisturize 

42. favorite book?

Harry Potter

43. favorite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

44. favorite album?

It changes a lot, currently Sour by Olivia Rodrigo

45. share your playlist or a playlist you love!

Nah

46. dream destination?

I’d like to visit Ireland

47. best subject? favorite subject, least favorite?

Best was probably math, favorites were science and arts, least favorite was english

48. do you prefer baggy, loose, or tight clothes?

Semi-loose but with some form

49. punk or pastel?

Pastel

50. search your name + core on pinterest & make a moodboard!

Nah

51. if you could travel back to any time period, what would it be & why?

Medieval because i think it’s cool

52. do you have any piercings?

Just my ears

53. do you have any tattoos?

No

54. do you have any siblings?

No

55. are your parents together or divorced?

Divorced

56. do you have any stepparents or step-siblings?

No

57. are your parents strict?

My mom was kinda

58. do you have a set bedtime?

No lol

59. what state do you live in?

Colorado

60. what are your sun, moon, & rising signs?

Idk, I just know I’m a sagittarius

61. do you share any traits with your signs?

Idk, they’re pretty generic so that everyone feels like it describes them

62. what’s a song that gets you going?

Depends on my mood

63. sweet or sour?

Sweet

64. soft or hard tacos?

Idk, I don’t eat tacos too much

65. what color are your bedroom walls?

Pink and green

66. the color/design of your bedsheets?

Turquoise

67. favorite thing to drink out of?

A glass

68. socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet

69. favorite board game?

Lately Dead of Winter

70. favorite video games?

Among Us, Detroit Become Human

71. do you sleep with the fan on or off?

On

72. do you sing in the shower?

Yes

73. favorite song to belt at the top of your lungs when alone?

Satisfied from Hamilton

74. last thing you cried to?

Being stressed over job hunting

75. have you tried any alcoholic beverage before?

Yes

76. gum or breath mints?

Gum

77. favorite pair of shoes you own?

The pink wedges

78. how many pairs of shoes do you own?

Way too many, probably like 30 at least

79. what is the natural state of your hair?

A little wavy

80. have you had braces? if yes, how long?

Yes, for 4 years

81. makeup or natural?

Makeup

82. are you a competitive person?

I can be 

83. favorite pasta dish?

Pasta with cheese

84. favorite kind of chips?

Ruffles cheddar and sour cream

85. talk about something your passionate about!

Idk if I’m passionate abot anything

86. what are some of your hobbies?

Crafts, DnD, shopping

87. do you drink coffee? if so, how do you like it?

No

88. favorite kind of pizza?

White pizza with pineapple

89. favorite & least favorite labels that have been put on you?

Idk what labels have been put on me

90. are you religious?

No

91. were you raise religious?

Not really

92. what shoe size do you wear?

7.5-8

93. heroes or villains?

Depends on the character

94. favorite vegetable?

Corn

95. least favorite vegetable?

Broccoli probably

96. favorite dessert?

Chocolate

97. do you play any sports?

No

98. can you swim? if so, when did you learn how to?

Yes, when I was little

99. tell a funny story!

Idk

100. what job would you be terrible at?

Doctor or politician

101. what’s your favorite compliment to give?

Compliment their clothing or accessories

102. has your opinion changed on something recently?

I’m evaluating my opinion on how cautious I need to be for covid

103. favorite physical feature about yourself?

Maybe eyes

104. what’s your favorite physical feature about someone else?

I look most at faces

105. what’s something you would rate 10/10?

Galavant

106. heels or flats?

Heels

107. what’s something you had more knowledge about?

Does this mean wish you had? If so then chemistry

108. would you want to be famous?

I’d want to maybe be known by name but not by face

109. what’s something you would get arrested for?

Pirating TV shows

110. are you a planner or spontaneous person?

A mix

111. what do you hope never changes?

Being friends with my best friends

112. what are your pronouns?

She/her

113. are you a feminist?

For the most part

114. what’s your hogwarts house?

Hufflepuff

115. myers briggs personality type?

Idk, it changes every time

116. who’s your favorite superhero?

Idk maybe Thor

117. favorite villain?

Loki

118. marvel or dc?

Marvel

119. what’s an assumption everyone makes about you that’s not 100% true?

In school people thought I was bookish and didn’t care about parties or boys or that kind of stuff, and now that I’m out of school people think I’m ditzy and probably not that smart

120. favorite bands?

Taylor Swift

121. if you could meet one celebrity, who & why?

Taylor Swift because I like her music and I think we would get along

122. have you watched porn before?

A little

123. favorite disney movie?

Hercules, Aladdin, or Tangled

124. favorite disney princess?

Rapunzel

125. favorite disney prince?

Hercules or Aladdin

126. favorite disney couple?

Rapunzel and Eugene

127. star wars or star trek?

Star Wars

128. top five movies?

Back to the Future, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Timer, The Imitation Game, Tangled

129. top five songs?

All Too Well, In a Crowd of Thousands, Traitor, Me and the Sky, Satisfied

130. top five ships?

Idk. Currently I’m enjoying Gina and EJ from HSMTMTS

131. how gay are you?

Just a little bit, I have occasional crushes on girls but I don’t think I’d want to date a girl

132. scream. just let it out.

Ok

133. do you have a best friend?

Yeah

134. call or text?

text

135. what’s a song that’s been stuck in your head recently?

A lot of Olivia Rodrigo songs

136. is there a song stuck in your head right now?

Just the songs I’m listening to

137. what song(s) will you always love?

A lot of Taylor Swift and showtunes

138. what song is your current mood?

Idk, I just feel like singing

139. recommend an artist!

The girl who plays Ashlyn from HSMTMTS

140. favorite meme song?

They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard

141. a song you hate that everyone loves?

I Like It by Cardi B

142. an artist you refuse to listen to?

Most rappers

143. what’s you “big gay mood” song?

Idk, I Kissed a Girl?

144. favorite lyrics?

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest” from All Too Well

145. what lyrics would you get tattooed on any part of your body?

I wouldn’t

146. shuffle your music & share the result!

Knowing Me, Knowing You by Abba

147. what’s your favorite love song?

In a Crowd of Thousands

148. ultimate song to clean to?

Through the Fire and the Flames by Dragonforce

149. if you could collaborate with one musician, who & why?

Taylor Swift because she gets me

150. what song makes you cry?

Soon You’ll Get Better by Taylor Swift

151. what would be your theme song?

Blank Space

152. what’s a strange phobia you have?

Spiders aren’t that strange, so fear of having accidentally shoplifted

153. did you have an emo phase?

No

154. did you have a greek mythology phase?

Just a little

155. roman or greek mythology?

Greek

156. who’s your godly parent & which god/goddess are you?

Idk

157. how do you handle your anger?

Yell, slam things

158. most attractive singer of the opposite gender?

Ramin Karimloo

159. most attractive singer of the same gender?

Hayden Panettiere

160. what time is it?

12:03am

161. do you have any nicknames?

Star

162. what’s a song that always makes you happy whenever you hear it?

In a Crowd of Thousands

163. which swear word do you use the most!

Fuck

164. five ways to win your heart?

Sense of humor, sing duets, do creative stuff, tease me, pay attention to me

165. five pet peeves?

Mouth sounds, people who think strong female characters can’t have love interests, people giving me unsolicited advice, people wearing their mask under their nose, ghosting

166. do you have trust issues?

Maybe

167. what do you pray about?

I don’t

168. most traumatic experience?

Probably braces

169. what is your dream job?

Idk

170. if you were to be in a musical, which musical, character, & other cast members would you have?

I would love to play Angelica in Hamilton

171. who would play you in a movie about your life?

Lea Michele

172. what’s your favorite thing about your significant other?

Sense of humor

173. favorite fictional character?

Kelsier from Mistborn

174. post a picture of yourself!

Nah

175. what’s your favorite pet name?

I don’t really like generic pet names that much

176. what makes you feel like a horrible person?

Not caring enough about people

177. when did you realize your sexuality?

It was always kind of assumed, but started thinking I might be a little bi a couple years ago

178. when was your first kiss?

When I was 18

179. expose your parents. that’s right. expose them. they deserve it.

My mom is overly cautious and doesn’t know how to pick her battles, my dad is a bit annoying 

180. a phrase that breaks your heart?

Depends on the context

181. when did you come out?

I didn’t

182. how did you come out?

I didn’t

183. who knows you’re out?

I’m straight

184. what’s your lucky number?

Idk

185. how tall are you?

5′6″

186. favorite word?

finnicky

187. are you right handed or left handed?

Right handed

188. do you have an accent?

American

189. first word that comes to mind when you hear ‘heart’?

Beat

190. what’s something you’re proud of?

I made a funny meme in the work group chat the other day

191. do you like where you live?

I like the area, but I don’t like living at my dad’s house

192. when you’re older, do you want to move to a different place?

Yeah

193. do you play any instruments?

Clarinet

194. how long is your hair?

To my boobs

195. what’s the meaning of your name?

Star

196. give an unpopular opinion & let your followers attack you or be salty.

People shouldn’t be cancelled for one shitty opinion, and consuming their work doesn’t mean you support all their beliefs or even like them as a person

197. do you support the lgbtq+ community?

Yes

198. who were you supporting for the 2020 election?

Biden

199. opinion on abortion?

Pro-choice

200. opinion on the death penalty?

Against it

201. opinion on reverse racism?

It’s not the same

202. post your screen time for this week.

Like all damn week lol

203. have you ever talked to a celebrity?

Yes, I met Channing Tatum and got a picture with him

204. what was your first concert?

Demi Lovato

205. how long do you keep your bra on?

All day

206. what’s your bra size?

36D last time I got one

207. give a tour of your room (video).

nah

208. how many photos are in your camera roll?

2990

209. what is the most recent movie/show you downloaded on disney+?

Phil of the Future

210. do you like documentaries?

Occasionally if it’s an interesting subject, but it’s not my favorite genre

211. what’s your favorite musical?

Wicked

212. who’s your favorite non-broadway actor/ actress?

Benjamin Bonenfant

213. who’s your favorite broadway actor/actress?

Ramin Karimloo

214. what’s the song you’re currently listening to?

A Dancer’s Heart

215. drop your most recent picture!

Nah

216. do you have a record player?

No

217. how many records do you have?

None

218. show your records!

None to show

219. do you plan on going to college? if so, where?

I went to my state school

220. talk about someone without telling who.

They used to wear light up sneakers

221. talk about something you hate.

I hate tomatoes and everything made out of them

222. have you been to therapy?

Yes

223. what color are your eyes?

Brown

224. what color are your parents’ eyes?

Hazel for my mom, Hazel-green for my dad

225. what color are you significant other’s eyes?

Hazel

226. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

18

227. do you have a favorite parent?

No, they are good in different ways

228. are your grandparents still alive?

Just my maternal grandma

229. drop 10 songs & let your followers tell you if you have taste or not.

That’s too much work

230. how many followers do you have on twitter & instagram?

Like 3 probably lol

231. are you the eldest, middle, or youngest sibling?

Only child

232. do you have a specific daytime routine?

Work

233. how often do you go to the doctor’s?

When I need to

234. have you had any surgeries?

Yes, for my canine and wisdom teeth, and to get part of my thyroid removed

235. do you wear glasses?

Yes

236. do you prefer unsweetened iced tea or sweetened iced tea?

Sweetened

237. do you have a “type”?

Yes lol. I like a lot of types but my “type” that I fall for a lot is light skin, dark hair, blue eyes, "golden boy”/big personality

238. what’s your significant other’s astrology sign?

I think Sagittarius

239. drop 5 blogs you love.

Idk

240. do you think you’re like any celebrity (personality wise)?

Maybe Taylor Swift in some ways

241. are you a “popular kid”?

No

242. what are your school’s colors?

Black and gold

243. what’s your school’s mascot?

Buffalo

244. how many irl friends do you have?

Idk

245. who was your least favorite teacher?

My camera workshop instructor

246. favorite teacher?

My 7th grade math teacher, my freshman year words and music professor, and my junior year film professor

247. drop a picture of your closet.

Nah

248. how many awards do you have?

Idk, a handful

249. what’s one award you’re proud of?

The dean’s list

250. do you take naps?

I try not to

251. what’s something people always ask you when you first meet?

What’s your name?

252. favorite fast food restaurant?

McDonalds or Wendy’s

253. favorite place to dine in?

Rueben’s

254. mexican or chinese food?

Mexican

255. chinese or japanese food?

Chinese

256. mexican or japanese food?

Mexican

257. olive garden’s breadsticks or texas roadhouse’s yeast rolls?

Breadsticks

258. garlic bread or breadsticks?

Garlic bread

259. plain garlic bread or cheesy garlic bread?

Depends on my mood

260. chicken or steak?

Chicken

261. favorite meal?

Pasta

262. drop a recipe!

I don’t really cook

263. how do you like your steak cooked?

I don’t

264. what would your last meal be?

Pasta

265. are you allergic to anything?

Beeswax I think

266. cats or dogs?

Cats but I like both

267. favorite genre of music?

Showtunes

268. favorite fan fic trope?

Fake dating probably or needing each other for survival

269. favorite tv show genre?

Sci-fi or sitcom

270. what’s your favorite cover/cover a band or artist has or should do?

Disturbed cover of The Sound of Silence

271. how often do you write songs?

I haven’t since I was a kid

272. how many finished songs do you have?

Idk like 5

273. do you write your songs in your notes or in a journal?

I just came up with them

274. how long have you been writing?

I don’t really write

275. how long have you had your account?

Since like 2013 or 14

276. what was your first URL?

shineslikestars17

277. if you could change your name, what would it be?

Star

278. what would you like to name your children?

Shane or Eric for a boy, Phoenix for a girl

279. what are your parents’ & sibling’s names?

I don’t have siblings, I don’t feel like sharing my parents names

280. are your parents democratic or republican?

Democrativ

281. do you have more in common with your mom or dad?

Both in different ways

282. are you & your siblings close?

I don’t have any

283. how close are you and your siblings in age?

I don’t have any

284. are any of your siblings married?

I dont have any

285. do you have any nieces or nephews?

No

286. do your parents have any siblings?

My mom has a sister and my dad has a brother

287. do you have any cousins?

Yes

288. do you look more like your mom or dad?

Both

289. how old were you when you started your period?

13 I think

290. have you lost your virginity?

Yes

291. who took your concert virginity?

My what? 

292. who took your musical virginity?

My what?

293. scream again. everyone needs to.

Ok

294. do you have any collections?

Kinda, lately I’ve been collecting dice

295. what’s on your nightstand?

Water, lotion, advil, phones, chapstick, purell

296. how do you usually style your hair?

Down or ponytail

297. do you play games on your phone?

Sometimes

298. are you hydrated?

Yes

299. have you breathed enough today?

I assume so since I am still conscious

300. are you thankful for anything?

I know I have a lot of privilege

[bobbyshaddoe80]

Liberated Audio Reviews

Introduction:

The cult Sci-Fi series Blake's 7 has seen great admiration and appreciation in the 40 plus years since its initial broadcast in the UK., continuing to enthrall audience old and new alike. Despite its rather low budget, it possessed some pretty impressive writing and acting from its rotating cast of characters. Despite it being yet another Terry Nation brainchild, the series would evolve beyond the initial proposal/concept of 'Robin Hood in Space' under the direction of Chris Boucher to become something more than just a Star Wars clone.

Over the years, the show's devoted fanbase have poured over the show's 52 episodes and have long clamored, demanded, begged and pleaded with the Powers That Be for some sort of continuation or revival... In spite of the show's rather unorthodox and controversial ending.

After numerous rumors and false starts, which even included a full on audio reboot/reimagining by B7 Media back in late 2007/early 2008, it would be Big Finish Productions that would take up the daunting task of reviving and expanding the Blake's 7 universe starting in February 2012 with the Liberator Chronicles and the Classic Audio Adventures in January 2014.

The Liberator Chronicles are essentially enhanced audiobooks often told in the first person by whichever character is chosen to be the focus of the story. Often they are supported by one or two other cast members in order to help keep things from falling completely into standard audiobook monotony. Before tackling the full cast audios, I shall endeavor to present my thoughts and views on all twelve volumes of the Liberator Chronicles.

Please bear in mind that these reviews are based on my own opinions and no one else's. While I shall endeavor to be as fair as possible, I am not claiming that my opinion is the only one that matters and you are free to agree or disagree with me as you see fit. Just try to keep it civil. So, without further ado, let's get started by examining volume one.

Blake's 7 - The Liberator Chronicles Vol. 1

RELEASED FEBRUARY 2012

Recorded on: 23 September, 11 and 14 October 2011

Recorded at: Moat Studios

Review By Robert L. Torres

The Turing Test by Simon Guerrier

'After evading an attack by Cassini Pirates, the Liberator heads to the rogue moon of Quentil, where Avon and Vila infiltrate a top secret Federation science facility. 

Vila assumes the guise of Dr. Yarding Gill, an expert in digital memory. And Avon is his "creation" - a super-advanced android that could pass for human. In fact, he does...

Can they maintain the ruse long enough to complete their mission? And will the Cassini Pirates catch up with them?'

Chronological Placement:

Series A - set after the events of LC Vol. 7's Disorder, between episodes Mission To Destiny and Duel.

This is a very well written story starring the late Paul Darrow as Kerr Avon, ably supported by Michael Keating as Vila Restal.

I love how the story is structured with Avon recounting these events AFTER the fact, like he was recording then for posterity into a dictaphone. I loved that Guerrier's writing didn't fall into the trap of having Avon try to do other voices or say 'said Blake', 'said Jenna' and so on. Nothing felt disruptive to the narrative and having Vila around never felt intrusive.

Kudos to Michael Keating for slipping back into the role of Vila Restal with relative ease. He will be quite reliable in a support capacity during many of these audios, and even get a chance at the spotlight... Which we will examine in due course. Right now, he lends his exceptional charm in this undercover mission posing as the scientist responsible for "creating" Avon.

Still, this story belongs to Paul Darrow, and he does a great job. It was a great story about what it means to be alive, what it means to be human and even serving as an examination of Avon himself. It was a nice inverse of the usual sort of questions regarding machine life wishing to be more human. Here we have a human considering himself to be more machine than man.

That is the interesting thing about Avon. Most scifi programs that deal with space travel tend to have an archetypical character known as the 'royal smart person'. For Star Trek TOS it was Spock, for Star Trek TNG it was Data, for DS9 it was Dax (and to a certain extent Bashir), for Voyager it was Seven of Nine, for Enterprise it was... Who the hell knows since everyone on that show was an idiot. As for Discovery... I honestly don't know cuz I haven't watched Discovery yet, but that's beside the point.

Avon is exceptional in his characterization only in that his desire to focus on pure logic and suppress his emotions does not come without its own drawbacks. Despite his intellect and skill with computers, he is someone that is also socially and emotionally cut off from others due to an inability to trust. He is also someone that sees the futility in giving over to emotional and irrational hysterics in order to showcase that he cares. Avon's intelligence also comes with a certain amount of ego, as he knows that he is smarter than many of his contemporaries, and much of the logic he embraces stems from a certain degree of self-serving self-interest.

His desire to assist in the situation with the AI android 14 stems from having an affinity with another creature of pure logic, and not wanting such a creature to be exploited and corrupted to further the aims and agendas of the Federation. This story is a great reminder of why Avon is a great antihero, as he is still willing to do the right thing in spite of himself.

Final Score: 8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Solitary by Nigel Fairs

‘Vila is in solitary confinement. His friends have abandoned him, his only contact with the world outside is Nyrron, a scientist from the planet Auron.

Amnesiac and confused, Vila attempts to piece together recent events... A mission to Dulcimer 4. An important meeting. And a visit to the jungle world of Terrulis Major.

In the depths of the foliage, the truth is waiting. And it's more terrifying than Vila could possible have imagined...’

Chronological Placement:

Series B - between episodes Redemption and Shadow.

I really do not have much to say about this story as it is profoundly unremarkable and is a major clunker in terms of execution of its concept, as well as the first person narration.

It has some interesting ideas, there is a central mystery that is interesting, with Vila finding himself in solitary confinement and abandoned by his friends, and we are introduced to a semi recurring guest character in the form of Auron scientist Gustav Nyrron, played by Anthony Howell ('Dr. David Keel' of the The Avengers: Lost Episodes range). 

Nyrron himself is an interesting character as an ally for Blake and the Resistance, which begs the question why Cally wasn’t involved in this story as well.  Because for an Auron scientist, he actually spends most of the time acting like either a reasonable interrogator or a benevolent psychiatrist for the imprisoned Vila. 

The whole story itself is not executed terribly well.  The Vila character spends a good chunk of the first few moments talking to himself, and then when Nyrron comes into the narrative, Vila spends the rest of the runtime being asked if he remembers certain events, and then goes on to basically recount events that lead up to meeting Nyrron and then goes on to tell Nyrron things that he already knows about. 

As a Vila centric story, its also not terribly good, not even with certain unexpected revelations made. This story does Vila no favors and we don't learn much about Nyrron either.  Fortunately, those are issues that would end up being rectified in later stories.  Definitely give this one a miss.

Final Score: 4 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Counterfeit by Peter Anghelides

‘The Bovee Mining Facility: A Federation slave camp worked by disgraced scientists.

The planet shouldn't be of interest but it is: Avon's investigations reveal that it's rich in Illusium, a mineral that can change from one substance to another. With it, the Federation could be invulnerable...

Blake teleports down to Bovee, but gets more than he bargained for. There's another visitor to the facility - and his presence changes the whole game...’

Chronological Placement:

Series A - set after the events of LC Vol. 1's The Turing Test, between episodes Mission To Destiny and Duel.

This is not a bad Blake focus story, with added support from Avon. However, what we get is a pretty standard adventure with Blake hoping to obtain certain materials and destroy the means of that material being reproduced in another effort to cripple the Federation's power. We even get in an appearance by Travis, Blake's personal nemesis, to lure him into a trap.

There isn't a whole lot to say about the story because of how standard and basic it all is. The fact that the story is done on audio does play in well into certain revelations and surprise twists made within the narrative. Many of which I will not speak on as it goes into spoiler territory. Other than that, the story itself is not bad, it is definitely worth a once-over. Its just unfortunate that it is also pretty average and fairly unremarkable.

Final Score: 5 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Final score for Volume One of The Liberator Chronicles in its entirety is 6 out of 10 Plasma Bolts.

It isn't the best start to the Blake's 7 audio range as it really only has one story out of three to recommend it. Its great to hear the original actors back again, and thankfully they will be served better stories in the volumes to follow.

Special thanks to Craig Brawley of the Big Finish Listeners Facebook Group for his tireless efforts in mapping out the chronology of the audios and determining how they fit in with the established TV continuity.

[paintedrecs]

Since you've semi-recently gotten into "Gargoyles," do you have some fanfic recommendations for it? (And yes, you can include your own fics if you want. We don't mind.)

Hahaha honestly I don’t have a lot of other recommendations - when I was close to finishing the show, I got impatient and checked the David Xanatos/Owen Burnett tag on AO3, which <em>literally had six fics in it</em>. I was surprised and disappointed, and I spent a few days idly writing a fic in my own head. Since there was nothing out there for me, I had to create my own content.

At one point, I told @mad-madam-m​, “I'm talking myself out of writing a Gargoyles fic that 1 person (me) would read.” She replied, “Why would you talk yourself out of that.” I said, “.....huh, fair point I guess.” A few days later, I’d posted an 11k fic.

The funny part is that M, who had not seen the show at that point, has now written 10 Gargoyles fics (going on a 30k+ 11th) to my 4. So really, she played herself.

I’ve poked around in a few other Gargoyles fics - basically scrolled through the whole tag and checked for anything that sounded like it had sufficient Owen in it - but I’m...kinda picky about my pairings, and I’ve gotten weirdly attached to the rarest possible dynamic in this fandom. (Polyamorous Xanatos, married to Fox and dating Owen, but without any romantic/sexual OT3 trio action.) 

And I’m also very picky about how people write Owen, because there’s this odd tendency to separate Owen Burnett from Puck, treating them as different people/personalities. Owen IS Puck. Puck is Owen. Just because his face and name changes doesn’t mean he does. 

I wrote nearly 37,000 words to try to properly convey my love for this incredibly complicated, fascinating character. (Each subsequent fic was because I felt like I didn’t quite do enough in the last one. I still have a few more in me, if I can ever get around to writing them.)

So...my recommendations...really are just my fics and M’s. Sorry!! It’s sad for me, too. :(

Here they are, though, if anyone’s interested. 

My Fics

Then Fate O’errules (30k)

This two-part series has my original Owen POV fic (11k), and an 18k Xanatos POV follow up, since M wanted to know what Xanatos was thinking during all of their relationship drama. (These fics are, incidentally, the first time I ever used the E rating. Gargoyles is an oddly inspiring show.)

I’ve left this as a complete series, since it covers everything I wanted it to, and I consider it a full story.

However...I’ve been dipping back in with timestamp-style fics, so everything I’ve written for this pairing all fits within the same universe: canon-compliant, with the very slight and (I think) fully believable addition of Xanatos being romantically/sexually involved with Owen.

But a Dream (5k)

Technically this has an unhappy ending (unusual for me), but it fits between chapters of my longer series, so it’s just a glimpse of a tougher point in their relationship, when Owen was stubbornly breaking his own heart and Xanatos was massively failing at communication. I honestly really like what I did with the snapshots of their dynamic here, regardless of the angst.

Spirits of Another Sort (2k)

Another quick timestamp between episodes, because I couldn’t stop thinking about Xanatos putting so much effort into trapping a trickster, when he already had a far more powerful one at home. I also have a LOT of emotions about how incredibly desperate Puck is to stay with Xanatos, as Owen. I love exploring their love, as messy and complicated and painful as it is.

[Pending fics: Another short timestamp, from earlier in their relationship, set in the dojo. An outsider perspective on this unusual Xanatos family dynamic from David’s dad, Petros. And, if I ever manage to go back to it, a fairy tale AU that I fully outlined months ago.]

Mikkimouse’s Fics

To my incredibly great fortune, M ended up liking the Xanatos/Owen dynamic as much as I did, so she’s written a few lovely fics for this pairing, now bringing the grand total in the AO3 tag to fourteen.

The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth (2k)

M and I had a conversation some time ago about A Midsummer Night’s Dream, because how can you talk about Puck (and Oberon, the douchebag) without bringing up that play. M then produced this very wonderful snapshot from later on in the Xanatos/Owen relationship, when they go to a play together and run into unexpected emotions. It’s very tender and true to them. I love this one a lot.

Important Questions (592 words)

Xanatos gets drunk. Owen is indulgent.

Explanations (195 words)

A very short, very sweet glimpse of the Xanatos family. I love seeing Owen’s softer side, especially with young Alexander.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be (5k)

While all my fics are tightly focused on the Xanatos family - primarily Xanatos/Owen, with Xanatos/Fox and Alex in the mix - M has really run with the wider Gargoyles world. She’s particularly great at writing Elisa, who’s one of my favorite characters in the show (which might not be visible from my fics, since uh...Owen doesn’t particularly like her, and I’m largely writing from his perspective).

M has a fantastic grasp on Elisa, though, and has fully sold me on the idea of Elisa and Xanatos eventually becoming really solid friends. This fic has achingly great Xanatos/Owen pining, but it’s mostly about Elisa (sniping at Xanatos but grudgingly getting along with him because he’s frustratingly brilliant and ridiculously charming), and it’s A+.

New Friends and Stranger Companies (3k)

Another stop along the “how the effff do Elisa and Xanatos become best friends??” journey, with Xanatos showing up at Elisa’s apartment after the events of The Gathering. There’s some Owen/Xanatos and Fox/Xanatos, but it’s mostly about Elisa & Xanatos starting to see (to Elisa’s dismay) how much they have in common. There aren’t many people in the world who know what it’s like to be a human hopelessly in love with a very powerful...non-human.

It’s messy and complicated and Elisa begins to really get a sense of the kind of guy Xanatos truly is, beyond his immense wealth and evil plots and fondness for messing with her easy-to-mess-with roar-happy winged boyfriend.

Concerns (200 words)

Some episode timestamps, because this really is the kind of show that inspires you to fill in the gaps. First, a brief exchange between Xanatos and Owen after they’ve discovered Goliath and Elisa (their two biggest harassers and meddlers) are off on some Avalon World Tour, leaving them free to do whatever they want.

That Shrewd and Knavish Sprite (2k)

And an exchange between Hudson and Owen during The Price, when Owen got his stone hand and Hudson turned out to be a lot more perceptive and difficult than the extremely easy to predict Goliath. Also an introduction to another unexpected friendship I’m super on board with: Owen needs friends, and Hudson makes weirdly perfect sense. (They’re definitely not there yet in this fic, but I’m hoping for a sequel.)

Gargoyles Three Sentence Fics (575 words)

Some of M’s early explorations of Elisa and Alex, whom she wrote wonderfully even before watching the show.

Ill Met By Moonlight (5k)

An Elisa & Xanatos friendship? Weird, but it works. An Elisa & Owen friendship? ...Not really going to happen.

One of the things I really like about this show is that it has all these different layers of relationships. Xanatos can be deeply in love with both Fox and Owen, but that doesn’t mean that Fox and Owen are going to feel that way about each other. They get along and definitely grow closer over the years, especially with all three of them being Alex’s parents, but they’re different kinds of people who live different lives and who both happen to have fallen in love with the same man.

Similarly, Elisa and Xanatos becoming best friends doesn’t mean that Owen and Elisa will ever be close. You don’t have to like all your friends’ friends - being an adult means recognizing and knowing how to navigate those complexities.

So here we have Elisa waking up tied to her least favorite person in the world, a sentiment that Owen has no interest in refuting. But they can still work together, and Elisa can still feel and express concern for Owen when she realizes he’s not quite as put together as he always appears.

(Also really great action writing. M is fantastic at that.)

Gentles, Do Not Reprehend (1.2k)

Along with Elisa, M has really made Alex her own. She’s working on a 30k plus Alex-centric story that I am super excited about, and this is an initial window into some of how that will look. I lovelove the unusual and wonderful Xanatos Family structure, and M does such a great job of building it out in funny, emotional, believable ways.