#oh look she finally wrote a sexy story

[wheels-of-despair]

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster in the process. Contains: Titanic references, female nudity, a brush with death. Word Count: 1.3k-ish

"Draw me like one of your dwarf girls, Eddie," you say in a sultry voice, trying your hardest not to laugh.

"What did I tell you about talking?" He pauses to give you a pointed look, since he's already told you to pipe down several times. You roll your eyes, and he returns to his drawing with a renewed vigor.

It's early 1998, and you've recently dragged your poor Eddie to a theater to see that damn Titanic movie everybody and their mother keeps raging about. All 3 hours of it. You may have neglected to mention the runtime when you bought the tickets. You owe him.

He survived, but was suddenly faced with the desire to "work on his people-sketching skills." Which of course meant it took him less than a week to convince you to strip and pose like Rose on the couch, wearing only that red guitar pick necklace he's had since high school.

You're stretched out and exposed and already bored. Two hours ago, he'd adjusted your hand a quarter of an inch this way, your knee a quarter of an inch that way, and you'd been instructed not to move.

Well, it felt like two hours, but it was really only about 30 minutes.

With nothing else to do, and being mildly disappointed that he didn't find your commentary amusing, you watch his eyes follow the pencil scratching across the paper you can't see. He's cute when he's concentrating. Tongue poking out, brow furrowed, that spark of creativity in his eye. It must be going well, because he smiles occasionally. He even giggled once. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably had something to do with a nipple. It was a little chilly.

"Just as I thought; it's a masterpiece."

"Are you done?" You'd only been in this position for an eternity.

"Oh yeah, this baby's getting framed." Ignoring you, he holds his sketch pad out to view it at an arm's length, beaming at his creation.

"Can I move now?!"

"Yeah, you can move."

You stretch your stiff limbs and get up off the couch, reaching for the flannel he'd discarded on a chair nearby, buttoning a few buttons as you pad over to where he sat admiring his work.

You place a hand on his back and look over his shoulder at the figure on his sketchbook. You're confused, but you can't take your eyes off of it. You can't think of anything to say. Until…

"What. The FUCK. Is THAT."

He looks up innocently and says, "What? I was just following instructions. You kept talking, figured I better listen."

You have no words.

You do, however, have a fucking BEARD in Eddie's drawing.

He sits there, looking up at you with a proud grin on his face, waiting for you to react.

You stare at him wordlessly, still in a state of shock.

Until he laughs at you. LAUGHS AT YOU.

Your brain begins to swirl furiously, until it flashes one word: KILL.

You clench your fists, and he begins to sense that you're not going to start laughing with him. His eyes widen, and he jumps out of his chair, vaults over the coffee table, and stands on the couch.

"I can explain," he says quickly, trying to sound calm, steps unsteady on the cushions.

You can explain too. Explain to the responding officers how one Edward James Munson met his gruesome demise.

"It's Tolkien."

You ignore him and advance slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Eyes unblinking. Blood boiling. Steam probably coming out of your ears. He jumps off the couch as you approach the coffee table.

"It's from a book!" He's walking backward, holding out his sketch pad like a lion tamer with a chair.

His eyes bulge as he hits something solid. You've backed him into a corner. Literally.

"Tolkien! Middle-earth! The Hobbit! Nerd shit!"

Nerd shit won't save you now, Munson. You narrow your eyes and prepare to go in for the kill. He panics.

"Dwarf women have beards! It was a joke! I'm sorry! I love you!"

The "I love you" makes you pause, just as you were about to pounce and slash your prey to pieces. The hell?

"What?" you ask, giving your head a slight shake in confusion.

"Dwarf women have beards. In the books. You said to draw you like a dwarf. It was a joke. I thought you'd know what it was."

"You thought I'd know some random detail from a book I haven't read in over a decade?"

"I mean, it's a pretty memorable detail…"

You roll your eyes, heave a sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Why is this not surprising?

"So you're not gonna kill me?" He's still backed into his corner. You consider it for a moment, deciding that you've played with him enough for today.

"Not tonight, Munson."

He exhales and leans his head back against the wall.

"But I WILL get you for this," you threaten, pointing a finger at him. He nods, used to this constant back-and-forth game you'd both been playing for over a decade. He knew you'd never really hurt him, just like you knew he wouldn't hurt you either. It was just a game.

You turn to walk away, and hear him whisper to the abomination he's still clutching: "Don't worry baby, you're still gettin' framed."

You whip around, eyes flashing. He gulps. You step closer, making him lean further back into the wall. He's cute when he's scared.

"Give it."

He stares at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his.

"Give it," you repeat, holding out a hand and waiting for him to place his sketchbook into it.

Reluctantly, he hands it to you. You maintain eye contact as your fingers find the thick cover page, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at his ungodly creation again. You slam it shut and he flinches.

"What are you gonna do with it?"

Beat your nerdy ass to death with it.

Still clutching his sketch pad, you step back silently and gesture for him to walk on by with your free hand. He slowly peels himself off the wall and begins to move with an apprehensive look in your direction, and a thought occurs to you.

As he scurries past you, you smack him on the ass with his sketchbook. He whirls around with a yelp, hands clutching his cheeks. It's cardboard, you drama queen. You step closer and swing the book at his arm.

"You made me lay there for AN HOUR! While! You! Drew! That!" You punctuate each word with another smack of the sketch pad. He continues overreacting to each hit and falls to the floor with a wail when you finish yelling, clutching his imaginary wounds. You lift the book above your head with both hands, ready to finish him.

"It started out real! But I couldn't make it look like you! It wasn't pretty enough!" You graciously decide to let him continue, still holding the sketchbook in an attack position, just in case. "I tried," he explains calmly now, "but it wasn't working out, and then you said the dwarf thing, and I thought it would be funny. I'll make it up to you."

"Damn right, you will." You lower the book and release it. It lands on his chest with a light thud. He grins from his position on the floor. You step over him and make your way toward the bedroom.

"Starting now," you inform him from the hallway, not slowing or turning around. You hear him scramble to get up, knock something over, and curse before he hurries in your direction.

He's lucky he's cute.

[chuuyasheaven]

Lovely wife on the surface, freak under the sheets !! (Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya)

TAGS. F. Dostoevsky, D. Osamu, C. Nakahara (separately) / Wife! Fem! Reader, p in v, oral sex, Fyodor’s might not be as spicy as the other two, masturbating (Fyodor), teasing, pet names, slight praise and degrading, slight brat taming (Fyodor, Chuuya), breeding kink (Chuuya), mentions of getting prego (Chuuya), might have grammar errors, etc.

NOTES. First two finals were good, yesterday in the english one, there was a task of writing a story and guess what I did? I wrote a cringy angsty soukoku fan fic 😭 but yeah small Drabble to feed y’all pookies!!!

F. DOSTOEVSKY

Everyone thinks you and Fyodor are a good match, because look at you! His pretty little wife who does everything she’s told, never thinking of saying ‘no’ to her husband.

But sometimes, you like being a little disobedient just to get punished by him. So that’s why you probably were fingering yourself, the cold wedding ring adding more to the pleasure. When Fyodor caught you, your legs were spread and your wet cunt was on display for him, so he obviously knew that you let yourself get caught on purpose.

“Such a naughty little wife, hm?”, Fyodor hummed as he slowly let his finger drag across your wet folds, picking up your wetness. “My, my, look at how wet you are, darling. Couldn’t even wait for me to come back, no? You know your fingers aren’t good as mine.”, he was right, his pale, long slender fingers could reach spots you never could on your own. “I know, but you took so long!!”, you whined, “Please help me out, Fedya.”, Fyodor chuckled, two fingers, going around your dripping cunt to avoid it. “I don’t know, a naughty wife who doesn’t follow her husbands orders shouldn’t get the pleasure they crave.”, wasn’t he right though? He specifically told you not to pleasure yourself when he wasn’t around, didn’t he?

“C’mon, Fedya, please!”, you begged him, moving around to get his fingers to touch your cunt at least once. “So desperate, aren’t we?”, he teased, a smirk making it on his face. “I’ll never do it again, promise. . You were gone for too long and I just missed you! Please, please, please, Fedya! Need your fingers in me.”, aw that’s cute, maybe he should give in to your pleas? “Do you think you deserve it, my dear?”, you better not lie and say something he didn’t wanna hear. “No but I’ll make it up to you! I will earn it.”, Fyodor really didn’t think of this answer, but went with it either way. “You’re gonna earn it?”, you nodded and sat up. “Promise.”, He was satisfied with that.

“Then come and earn it, love.”

D. OSAMU

Dazai wasn’t the possessive type, but when it came to you, his wife, then he might be. Especially when a man was flirting with you, even though you clearly have a ring on your finger! Luckily for you, Dazai was with you when this happened earlier. All that happened because of the dress you had on, a dress which was hugging your figure nicely, hell, if he didn’t know any better he would be flirting with you too!

Well, bless the heavens and the above for catching you before anyone else did, because you feel way too good than you should, he also had the privilege of ripping the very same dress of off you.

“You look way too sexier than you should, ‘donna.”, Dazai was working his tongue on your cunt, sending light vibrations to it by talking to you. You just nodded, being a little spent because this was going on for two rounds straight. “Oh, so you agree?”, he asks you, his hot breath moving further away from your cunt. “No, Dazai— don’t stop!”, you whined, but Dazai just chuckled deeply. “I gotta disagree with you on this one, sweetheart. . I think you’re rather divine, your taste especially.”, this teasing asshole, why was he asking you questions instead of making you cum for a third time. “My beautiful wife, thinking she isn’t sexy. . Maybe I need to convince her?”, Dazai was standing up, giving you the illusion of depriving you of your— much deserved in your opinion —orgasm. But no, he was far from done with you.

The amount of bliss you felt when he pushed his cock in you, nearly screaming of how sudden it was to you. “I think I already know how to.”, his hips started moving against yours while his hands were holding onto yours. Your moans were pulled from you again, you grabbed the sheets in the amount of pleasure he made you feel.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. . Just keep being such a good wife for me, ‘kay?”

C. NAKAHARA

Before your husband, Chuuya, came through the door, you were backing him a small cake. Just like a good wife should, also wearing a cute apron with the saying “Kiss the chef”. All went well so far and Chuuya walked through the door, not to greet you, that is.

You are a good wife, but sometimes you can be a little deceiving. A prime example being those photos you sent Chuuya at least a hour before his work ended, photos which included you in his favorite lace lingerie with the caption “miss you”. And what was your reason? Just to tease him a little, maybe a little motivation to work faster to get home earlier.

He was impatient, he’s been waiting for a hour to get home to you, just to not even get to the bedroom. That’s right, he was gonna take you right at the kitchen counter. Chuuya took off your shirt to see you were still wearing the set, a smirk was curving up on his lips. “You’re still wearing this, doll?”, he asked you, since you were bent over the counter he couldn’t see your smile on your face, but he could hear your giggle. “Yeah, just for you.”, you admitted in a teasing tone. “Just for me? Well then allow me. .”, he replied, pulling your lace panties to the side.

Chuuya wasn’t going slow at it, he was basically going so fast and hard that the counter legit started to shake slightly. His hips slapping against your ass, your moans filling the kitchen along side by his groans and breathy cursing. “Couldn’t wait for me to— mhm, fuck —to come home, hm? Sendin’ me photos of you looking so perfect sayin’ you miss me.”, he groaned, all you replied with was a moan. “Such a little slut, you jus’ wanted to get fucked, didn’t you? Teasin’ me at work just for a good fuck.”, Chuuya could feel his orgasm approaching, your cunt clenching around him only sped up the process.

“Ch–chuuya— ngh!”, you moaned out his name in bliss, Chuuya sped up the pace. “Want me to cum inside you, baby? Want me to fill you up so fuckin’ good?”, he asked in a low mocking tone, waiting for a response from you. “Y–yes! Ah— please!”, his cock twitched when you gave him the permission. “Yeah? Gonna fill you up so much you’ll be leakin’. . ‘till you might get pregnant.”, he didn’t really mean it, did he? It was all in the heat of the moment, right? Nonetheless, it turned you on with the way he said it. A deep chuckle was heard from him as he felt you clench down again. “You like that, doll? You wanna get pregnant with our child— oh fuck —you’re squeezin’ me so tight. . You sure you want it?”, you repeatedly moaned a yes, making him smirk. “C–cumming!”, you almost screamed, the amount of pleasure being a bit overwhelming.

“Yeah, just like that. . Take it like a good girl, baby. Hm— keep clenchin’ like that so nothin’ spills, understood?”

Hi again 😋 hope y’all are well fed now :3

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡ | pics r not mine.

Part One | Part Two

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

[midlandslady]

So let me say this:

Geeta Patel wrote season 1 episode 8. That was one of my fave episodes ever! Viserys wishing for one last dinner with the entire family (poor Daeron LOL), Viserys so weak and frail entering the throne room to defend his beloved daughter (*forever emotional*), Daemon running from his spot to help Viserys to get on the throne and putting the crown on his head was so beautiful, Daemon cutting Vaemond's head for calling Rhaenyra a whore (most sexy moment in the entire show), the dinner with the family when Viserys begged for them to put aside their hatred and resentment because he loved them all and wished for them to be happy after his death (cries).

Geeta Patel wrote season 2 episode 3. What did we get in episode 3? Young Rhaenyra calling Daemon as soon as he steps in Harrenhal, Daemon crying for seeing young Rhaenyra with baby Jaeherys (again one of my favourite scenes in the entire tv show), Daemon in front of the weirwood trees and Alys telling him he will die there (poetic foreshadowing), Rhaenyra trusting that Daemon will give them an army if they allow him more time. Rhaenyra talking to Alicent in the same spot where they used to be friends and console each other (beautiful parallel). This is what I remember from episode 3. Did something else happen? Probably, I don't remember. Not to say that I don't care because I don't hate the greens (just Criston Cole most days and Aemond although he also intrigues me). Even Aegon is a very pitiful person. I find the entire story very tragic. And this episode touched my heart.

What else is Geeta Patel going to write? Season 2 episode 8 (season finale!!!!) And you know what she said to the interviewer?

"The other thing I got to set up that of course will pay off later is Daemon arrives to Harrenhal, and this is a new chapter for Daemon. This is where he will shift. He will for the first time look within himself... Harrenhal is a metaphor for what's inside Daemon's heart. In Episode 2, Rhaenyra pushed him away, and Rhaenyra is the first person he's ever really let into his heart and let his guard down with, and when he did she hurt him in Episode 2. She basically told him he was worthless, and so now his armor is on as he enters Harrenhal, but truthfully within his heart, the armor is shattered. So that's where the setup starts, and it will keep evolving until we get to Episode 8."

What does this sound like to you? To me, it sounds like music to my ears. Daemon's arc will pay off later... as in he will become a better person? Recognize his mistakes? Understand that Rhaenyra was right and deserves better (arguably but I will get there in a later post) and reconcile with her? Oh my!

He let his guard down when he let Rhaenyra in his heart and she hurt him 🥺 (he deserved it, kind of, I don't know if he deserved to hear that at the time but he surely deserved to hear it at some point).

His armor is on when he enters Harrenhal but within his heart, the armor is shattered!!!! 😭*pain*

I have always said that Daemon is one of the people who feels more deeply everything but he wears an iron mask, he puts up walls so high and hides his feelings through violence so no one can see how much he is hurting on the inside. I relate with that and maybe that's why I always understood him, always tried to see him between the lines of what he says or how he acts.

More than anything I want him to do the right, he doesn't need to be good, he can be flawed as we all are, but I want him to become a better man. His arc will keep evolving until episode 8 so we will see more hallucinations and more craziness but then one of these hallucinations will make him "shift" and I desperately want to see which one and how it happens.

I don't know if any of you watched Once Upon a Time but Emma and Killian were another of my 3 main OTPs and from the moment I saw Killian/ Hook I also envisioned the potential to be a great man. And I felt the same with Daemon from the first moment (of course it's GoT, so everything is more barbaric and ruthless but the essence is there).

Just please I hope he doesn't make more serious mistakes, so far he's not learning much with the visions, he is still committing war crimes to innocent people ("Do your worst, ser Willem." "Some things the crown should not be seen doing" - seriously? As if it won't backfire right away -_-), still clinging to the "I am the better fit to rule".

But these next 2 episodes will be crucial.

My last warning: Alys, stay away from him!

[ms-moonlight-inn]

“Shame-proof” DVD Commentary

Thank you to @shamelessdvdcommentary & to the anon to requested us (whoever you are, we love you!). My bestie @notherenewjersey & I are here to answer all of your burning questions (do you have the syph? why's it burning? it's not supposed to burn.)

Anyway, here's our stuff... hopefully it'll help with that itchy burny.

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

“Shame-proof” is about two childhood actors who lose contact with each other after their series wraps. Quickly, we find out that Ian had been harboring a deep crush on Mickey, who had basically been bullying Ian the whole time. Confessions & apologies ensue.

Also, a friend called it an undercover RPF... and if that’s how you choose to look at it, well we’re not gonna stop you.

NJ–  it COULD be RPF but that’s not how it was written. We weren’t imagining Cam or Noel’s childhoods here, aside from what we stole of Mickey’s back canon that Ian watches as he pines.

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

The outline started on 4/16/24. 22887 words posted. Posted for the Summer Camp project on 8/3 but we were done before that.  Moonlight was convinced it would be 10k but I knew it was bigger. And this was without us going down every rabbit hole we saw. It’s 8 chapters, most of the chapters start with a flashback to the past and then jump to the “present.”

Moonlight– seriously, NJ dragged me away from some other HC I had kicking around, & we dove into this one instead.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

I read Jeanette McCurdy’s book, and as with any time I read anything, my brain said “What if this was Gallavich?” I know Moonlight is an L.A. girl, so I knew I wanted her input. I think I had a rough outline already when I looped her in, but she immediately took what I had and expanded and deepened it, as she always does.

Moonlight– God it’s so much fun to talk trash about all the things you grew up with & around. Los Angeles is filled with opportunities for trash talking. LOL 

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

This didn’t start out as either of us deciding to stay in Ian’s POV, but in order to keep Mickey’s motivations a little more opaque, we landed there. Until the latter chapters, at least. For the drama.

Moonlight– No further comment.

What was your favourite scene to write?

All of them? I like Sue so much, and I love writing Frank’s bullshit. RuPaul is fun, too. 

Moonlight– I’ve got two favorite scenes. The first is the scene where they’re kids doing the campground episode. I adored the moments of discovery Ian had there –figuring out that trees existed in southern California, figuring out that he had a serious crush on Mickey, and then the boy he meets on set as he’s running away from his problems. (BTW, 10 punk rock points to anyone who knew the song before I remembered to add a link).

The other scene I loved writing was the rimming scene. In the outline NJ said, “they get together in the sexiest and most romantic way.” And I wanted to throw my laptop at her face. SERIOUSLY, what the actual fuck?! So I got them all the way up to the part where Ian’s naked and stalled out for, like, two weeks. I was on a call with @mybrainismelted saying, “I’m stuck on this scene. I’ve managed to get one dick out, but I haven’t quite figured out how the other one’s gonna get naked AND STILL KEEP THIS BULLSHIT SEXY AND ROMANTIC.” Needless to say, I figured it out. 😁

NJ– Yup! That was, I think, the entire outline for that chapter, originally. One line. I knew that’s what happened at that point in the story, why bother with details? LOL

How did you come up with the title?

Oh geez. Trying to come up with both an AU of Shameless AND a reboot name, both of which would sound semi-natural was tough! But Shame-proof is more than just the title of a fake TV show. It also speaks to how Ian and Mickey were able to finally live wholly as themselves. No more hiding, nothing left unsaid. Without shame, shameless in the very best ways.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I always throw things in. We both do. But hopefully, readers who haven’t read either our individual or joint back canon can still enjoy the story.

Moonlight– See easter egg question.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

No.

NJ– if one of us is stuck, the other usually isn’t or can jostle the other into being unstuck. We’re good like that.

Favorite line in the story?

NJ– @gallavichgeek pointed out two of my favorite lines, but I will repeat them here because … yeah. 

“Hey, come back,” Mickey says softly.

“I’m still here,” Ian answers, a little confused.

“Yeah, but all of you. M’ not ready to let any of you go a moment sooner than I hafta.”

***

“I’d say,” he hesitates, then goes on, “that someday you’re gonna get everything you ever wanted. That all the bad shit, the bullshit, and the pain, it’ll all be worth it.” 

***

If I crash, I’m coming back to haunt you, Ian had answered.

If you crash, I’m diving in after you.

***

Moonlight– “What the fuck? How ‘bout double-dutch no with a cherry on top.” Mickey steadily refuses. (Anytime Mickey is being creative with his cursing & curses is a good time. Bad language & mockery are his love languages.)

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) 

All of it? It’s a great story. 

Moonlight– I’m also proud of the structure we used. It was NJ’s choice to do what basically amounted to two mini chapters in one –past & present colliding, if you will. And it worked so well for this storyline. 

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

Not deleted, so much as we had ideas that didn’t make it to fully fleshed for the final draft.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a character’s head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

NJ– It’s important for people to know that Mickey in the past was protecting Ian so much more than he was protecting himself, with his bullying behavior. 

Moonlight– God, yes. 

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

NJ– I want more of Ray, more of Sue, more of the Random Studio Infant now grown up. More of Sheila and of Kermit. I want the world to be fuller. And maybe it will, eventually.

Moonlight– Def’ more Ray, he’s funny & I’m sure he & Ian had so many stupid adventures. I think I’d like to see a few of the conversations between Ian & Mickey, but I struggle with that ‘cause I love when there is that air of mystery to a storyline. I don’t necessarily want to be told everything. But I think at least one of those late night conversations we reference would be nice to see.

NJ– yeah, we did have a time limit so some of the scope got condensed. I agree, those conversations would be incredible to see/hear. 

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Well…. This story has legs. It has scope beyond what you’ve seen. I have believed, since the outline began, that this was the fic that would make the leap to traditional publishing. Moonlight and I are hoping to expand it and bring it to a publisher. “It’s a crossover between Shameless, I’m Glad My Mom Died, and RWRB.” Who wouldn’t wanna read that? LOL The Gallagher family will shrink a little, Terry will still be his monstrous self. So no, there won’t be a traditional fic sequel. But if we’re all very, very lucky, there will be an expanded version that scratches the same itch.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

The Saint Christopher’s medallion that Ian receives from Mickey? Yeah, the person I wrote that for knows it was for them. 🫶 

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

By far NOT our most popular story. Yet.

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

I HATE waiting to post- posting a fic like this where it’s all done upfront is hard for me, emotionally. So I was beyond excited for people to read it and love it as much as we do!

Moonlight– NJ really hates not posting immediately. Like, really hates it. This fic was written for the @gallavich-fic-club Summer Camp Event & we had to wait our turn. Which she HATED. 🤣 

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

Can we count each other? I’m a genuine writing freak- fast, thoughtless, and I rarely edit beyond typos. (many of which elude me and still end up in the final draft.) Moonlight is the opposite- she’s incredibly deliberate and also deeply and passionately devoted to the editing process. When we edit together, it can look a little argumentative, but we trust each other, so a lot of those conversations end up like, “I don’t see the issue, but I trust your judgment.” We both say it all the time.

Moonlight– D’aw, bb. You’re making me blush. You’re right, I am a meticulous asshole, but your brain is fast & witty. Together, we write good shit. 

NJ-- Also, god the verb tenses in this story gave me fits. I am a grammar nerd, so is Moonlight. But skipping between tenses for the past and present when we wrote straight through- she never had an issue but I regularly was in the wrong tense and had to go back and fix, cursing my own self the whole time. Loudly. Often on the phone with Moonlight. 

Moonlight– 🤣🤣🤣 yeah…

If any one has any comments, words of praise, complaints you’d like to register with our headquarters, please let us know. 

NJ - in the greatest detail, if you’d be so kind.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

Moonlight– Yes, the cheese sledding story is based on semi-true events. The guys at my high school used to carry large blocks of ice to the top hill of the local golf course & ride them down. Years later, a dorm mate I knew in grad school told us about his Vermont cheese tour where he saw “giant wheels of cheese” that he swore he could use as a mode of transportation. And so, the cheese sledding story was born. 

NJ-- And I made sure it was at Trump’s golf course because a few years back, a man in New Jersey did some fun vandalism like that and I find it deeply satisfying.

🧀🛷 

[thepaintedlady00]

Is this what I should be writing? No. Is it what my brain has become obsessed with? Yes. 😅😂 SO, my friend and I have been playing Baldur's Gate 3 and last week she just sent me a piece of fanart for Enver Gortash and a The Dark Urge Tav. She wrote me an essay about how a story about these two and their tragic pasts and sexy chemistry and eventual love affair and angst was just so perfect and blah blah blah. No big deal, right? WRONG! WRONG! Because now it's stuck in my head and I've been writing long ass blurbs for a fic that I did not have planned whilst I'm supposed to be writing like 2 other things right now! 🤣 Well, anyway, here this is because *looks at script my friend wrote out for me* "I'm the boss (writer) and I can do (write) whatever I want" 🧍‍♀️. Let me know if y'all enjoy this because boy oh boy do I have more (it's literally turning into ANOTHER 20 plus chapter series). Thanks for the brain rot you bitch (said lovingly), I hope you enjoy the tiny peek into the fic you want so badly!

The glinting steel reflected the vision of pale skin - skin I wanted nothing more than to slice open. The man made a slight, quiet noise. It wasn’t one I usually heard when about to take a life. Everyone else was always babbling, clearly terrified to die, but he seemed to be bored… annoyed. I admired the way the chilled, freshly sharpened blade kissed his neck so nicely before his hands finally stopped their intricate movements, and he slowly settled back against his chair. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't slit your throat."

"It'd be such a waste of a pretty neck," he joked. I pulled the blade back more, nearly cutting the tender flesh he seemed so fond of. He made some noise of protest and quickly added, "As well as a waste of a powerful ally."

The laugh that bubbled out of my throat was unexpected. It'd been so long since I'd laughed. Surely he was joking. I kept the knife steady as I stepped out from behind the chair and truly examined him. He was fit enough, with strong arms and a well-toned physique with a power that surrounded him as well, but it was but a simmer... A meager fountain in some garden compared to the power I'd witnessed. He grinned beneath my gaze. "See something you like, assassin?"

"If you're so powerful, then why is it me that holds your life in my hands?" I asked, with an arched brow.

"It would be rude of me to interrupt. You are doing such a lovely job with all these vague threats."

"You'd risk your life on some self-imposed manners?"

He rolled his eyes. "You aren't going to kill me."

I grinned at his boldness. "No?" Pressing the dagger down I made sure to draw blood this time. The sight of it made my mouth go dry, anticipation humming through me. "You would make a pretty corpse."

"I've no doubts about that," he agreed with barely a flinch. "But, if you'd intended for me to die, I suspect I would have been dead weeks ago when you first paid me a visit."

His words - those cursed words he'd uttered the first time my blade touched his throat rang in my ears. "You're beautiful."

A chill, a fragment of a feeling, crawled up my spine, and the dark urge to bleed him dry went quiet. Slowly I withdrew my blade, leaning back to sit on his table, not caring if his papers smudged. "What do you want, slaver?"

The man's lips curled up into a snarl at the term, but he quickly tempered himself. "An alliance."

"And what exactly are we allying against?" I questioned with a hum. "We don't exactly run in the same circles."

"We are far more similar than you think, Bhaalspawn."

My blade twisted in between my fingers as I shoved forward and dug it into the back of the chair, just an inch shy of his face. Baring my teeth I let out a low growl. "Who told you what I am?"

The man smiled, not at all deterred by my blade nor my voice. "No one. I knew what you were the moment I saw you." He leaned forward, so close our noses nearly touched. "You'll want to keep that secret close though."

"Bold of you to threaten me,” I complimented with a slight raise of my brow.

"Oh, it's not a threat," he corrected. "Simply some advice from one worshiper to another."

"You worship Bhaal?"

"Gods no," he scoffed. "Murder doesn't exactly fit my particular skill set. Besides, these silks are far too fine a fabric to stain with all that blood. No, I prefer power... Status... Tyranny."

I rolled my eyes with a quiet scoff of my own. "A disciple of Bane then. How fitting for a cocksure man."

His head tilted slightly, eyes dragging down the length of me as I leaned back into the table. "I'm certain we'll have plenty of time to explore how cocksure I am whilst we work together."

"I haven't agreed to work with you yet."

"Yes you have," he replied, confident and unwavering. "You see the potential in such an alliance. Two dark gods are more powerful together than one alone. United we could do so much more."

With a quiet hum I regarded his words carefully. He held some semblance of truth in his statement. Bhaal was not as strong as he once was, his worship and power long declined. Uniting, even if just for a short time, with another Chosen could prove to be useful in achieving both our goals. There was something in me that stirred beneath the man's steady, unflinching gaze... Something warm and foreign. Once again his first words to me filled my mind. "You're beautiful."

Reaching forward I pulled my blade from the wood and pointed it at his neck again. "Get rid of the flyers or the next time we meet my blade will bury itself in your throat."

"Does that mean you accept?" He questioned with almost a giddy smirk.

"It means I'll consider it." 

I wearily watched him rise to his feet, towering over me. "How shall I summon you again?"

My jaw clenched. "You do not summon me. If the Temple of Bhaal agrees to participate in this plot of yours I shall find you."

"And if not?"

"Then I will still find you, and I will kill you."

"Splendid," he mocked with a clever bow. "I, Enver Gortash, shall eagerly await your return."

"The flyers," I reminded, stepping around him to move back toward the window.

His boots scuffed against the floor, the boards creaking beneath his weight. "What shall I call you? Assassin? Or your moniker perhaps? What was it... The Dark Urge." The man, Gortash, made a displeased noise. "I'd much prefer your name if it's all the same to you."

I should have left - I had every intention just to leave, and yet my steps halted. The chilled breeze from the cracked window brought goosebumps to my arms, every hair rising on end from the cold or perhaps from the sudden and odd anticipation that filled me. I turned my head to the side, eyes slyly glancing at him as the soft whisper of the name... My name rolled off my tongue. "Remora."

Gortash smiled. It was different from the others... Softer... Genuine. The sight of it sent a sharp sensation through my chest before it vanished, and he teasingly bowed again. "I await your swift return, Remora."

Shaking off the weight of those unknown feelings I climbed through the window and leapt into the dark night. Loose shingles shifted beneath my light steps as I hurried across the rooftop. The wind stung my cheeks and threatened to pull my hood from my head as I slowed and looked back at the window. I could barely make out the shape of him standing there, looking out into the night as if he could still see me. A frustrated bubble of annoyance finally burst within me and made me want to groan as I quickly realized he was right.

I had already decided to join him.

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 37: Chasing Hope

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​ ​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​ @averyhotchner​ @foxesandmagic​ @kmc1989​​​​ @midmourn @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Aitana hurried to sit down at the table where her best friend was waiting. They were due for a lunch date.

Elia merely smiled as Aitana scrambled to get comfortable in her chair. "It's alright." Almost a year into Aitana's new BAU schedule, Elia was more than used to waiting and rescheduling. "I know you're super busy."

"Yeah." Aitana lost breath as she fixed all her belongings on the ground and her bag on the table. "We had a case — I just got back — oh!" Her bag almost spilled her entire contents had Aitana not managed to grab it off the table.

Elia laughed and bent down to pick up what had fallen. "You're a klutz."

"More like I'm tired!" Aitana exclaimed, bending down to pick up what was nearest to her. "I just flew back from Texas!"

"Busy gal." Elia picked up a mascara, lipstick, two pens and a slip of paper. She put it all down on the table but not before plating with the makeup. "You need lipstick to find corpses?" She uncapped a bright red shade of lipstick. "Red is to impress."

"No it's not!" Aitana made a face.

"You know damn well it is. Red is to impress and to seduce. Plus, red is your color," Elia winked at Aitana. "Makes you look sexy."

Aitana rolled her eyes. "Can you please give me my stuff?"

Elia handed the lipstick over, then the mascara and pens. She would've done the same with the slip of paper if she hadn't started reading it instead.

"Nosy," huffed Aitana. She dumped everything back inside her purse.

"What are these?" Elia tapped a finger on the paper.

"Pet stores," Aitana said, reaching to take the paper but Elia drew it back.

"You're buying a pet? Oh, are you finally buying a kitty!?" Elia exclaimed. Before WPP, Aitana always talked about buying a kitten for a pet.

"No, at least not right now," Aitana shrugged. "Those are locations where I might be able to find my Venus and Mars."

"Venus and Mars?" Elia repeated, unimpressed.

"My missing fish for my tank, remember? Spencer jotted down a couple spots he saw. I was going to go tomorrow."

"That's nice of him," Elia plucked the paper from Aitana. She reread the places. "These are far. How'd he know about them?"

"He passed by them," shrugged Aitana.

Elia snorted. "He just happened to walk by? Well, now I see why you keep red lipstick in your bag." Her smirk was more than unappreciated.

Aitana shifted in her seat, brushing a hand over her hair. "He just happened to see these stores and wrote them down for me. Unlike everyone else, Spencer actually understands my project."

Elia playfully rolled her eyes. "Mhm. Isn't he also the one who convinced you to keep dancing for the competition?"

Aitana regretted her habit of telling Elia everything. "He's very good at talking, alright?"

"Yeah, that's not exactly the vibe I got from him the first time we met," Elia said, thinking back to when Spencer and Emily had shown up at her door with Aitana's journal.

"You just have to get to know him some more," Aitana said plainly. "I've known him for almost a year now. Things change."

Elia was smiling strangely at Aitana. "Yeah, they do."

Aitana snatched the paper out of Elia's hand and stuffed it inside her bag.

"Since we're on the topic of your FBI friends, have you invited them to the competition?" Elia posed a good question that Aitana had not really considered until then.

"No. They don't even know that I'm doing it. Well, Spencer does but I haven't gotten around to the others."

Elia hummed. "Interesting."

Aitana pointed a warning finger at her best friend. "Don't even start."

"For now," Elia winked. Aitana groaned. Elia couldn't help but laugh a bit. "You do have to invite them. They're your friends aren't they?"

"Well, yeah, I just...it's very nerve wrecking knowing that my abuela is coming to see me."

"Then this is exactly why you should invite them — moral support," Elia nodded. She made perfect sense. "Plus, I want to meet these famous profilers of yours. I want to see what they say about me."

"Yeah…" Aitana chewed on her bottom lip, "Is it crazy to say that being in big groups is still nerve wracking sometimes?"

"No, not at all," Elia shook her head. "You're entitled to take it slow, Aitana."

Aitana sighed. "I know, but sometimes it just feels like I should be better already."

"You are," Elia said. "Last year, you wouldn't even talk to me. Progress has been made, I swear."

Aitana half smiled. She could agree with that. "I'll talk to them about it," she resolved. She could already hear Penelope's excited jabbering about the competition.

"Good." Elia picked up the menu in front of her. "Let's order before they call you away again."

Even though she was only half joking, Aitana still made a hasty order. One could never be sure when you worked in the BAU.

~0~

Two weeks later, Aitana was coming out of her dance practice when she got an urgent text from Penelope. They had a case. She didn't think that she had time to go home and change so she made a direct trip to Quantico instead. On her way into the building, she met Spencer.

"Do you know what the case is about?" Aitana asked him on their way to the elevator.

"No, I thought you and Penelope were working on it," Spencer said, pulling his phone out just to double check the text. It had come only from Penelope.

"No, I was at dance practice," Aitana gestured to her current athletic outfit as proof. "I was literally just coming out when I got the text."

"Pretty late for a practice," remarked Spencer. He pressed the elevator button to open its doors.

"They make exceptions for me and my schedule," Aitana hummed. "Our lovely schedule…"

Spencer smiled. "Yeah, I get that."

The two went up to the BAU and exited together. On their way out, they spotted Morgan and JJ in the bullpen.

"Hey, do we know what's going on?" Aitana asked the two.

"Garcia's got a personal case," Morgan said, eyeing Aitana strangely.

Aitana sighed, knowing her appearance wasn't at all professional. "I know, I know. I will get changed as soon as we finish the meeting. I didn't have time."

"Were you out running at this hour?" asked JJ with a spark of bemusement in her eyes.

"God no!" The way Aitana answered so fast had the trio laughing at her. "I do enough running for this job. You really think I'm going to go home and keep running? Yeah right!" The laughing increased. "I was coming out of a dance practice. Something I need to tell you guys about, actually."

"You dance?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Traditional Mexican Folklore. I have a competition coming up next month and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come and watch," Aitana said, smiling very awkwardly now that she was exposing a big part of her life.

"Oh right, you said it was on a Saturday?" Spencer knew she had told him the day but not the actual date as the competition was still being finalized.

"You knew about this, Pretty Boy?" Morgan's eyebrows rose even more.

"Yeah, he found me once, a while back," Aitana shrugged, "I think right outside, actually."

Spencer nodded. "Yeah. I needed to talk to her anyway."

"Really? Talking? That's it?" Morgan made no attempt to hide his teasing smirk.

"I-I don't know what's going on anymore…" Aitana said slowly, glancing at Spencer for some help. The latter was glaring at Morgan.

JJ snickered. "I do but it's best not to get into it. We should start heading in – Garcia's pretty upset." She reached for Aitana's hand and pulled her for the steps.

"Not funny," Spencer muttered to Morgan as they followed the women. Morgan thought it was pretty funny.

All jokes ended when the group gathered together in the conference room to discuss the case. One of the people who attended Penelope's support group had gone missing. It was also the anniversary of the woman's daughter's kidnapping.

"So we can safely assume we're dealing with the same unsub," Aitana said right off the bat. It was the only logical conclusion they could draw until evidence showed otherwise.

Penelope didn't want to outright agree but when she mentioned the fact the victim, Monica, had been left a letter allegedly from her daughter, it made more sense.

"The anniversary could have been the trigger," Rossi agreed.

"We can't rule out the possibility that Monica committed suicide," Hotch offered the other possibility even though Penelope refused.

"No. No, Monica would — would never hurt herself," she assured the group, "She—she still thought Hope was alive."

"Is the father in the picture?" asked Emily.

"No, he died in a car accident right before Hope was born."

Spencer had taken the only evidence they had from the abduction – Hope's letter – to scan it. "There's no postmark, which means this letter was obviously hand-delivered."

"You do a full linguistic analysis," Hotch said, "We need to determine authenticity."

JJ leaned closer to Spencer's seat to get a glimpse of the letter. "There's a butterfly drawn next to Hope's name. That has to mean something."

"There was no sign of struggle at the scene," Morgan told the others since he had been the first one Penelope had called. He did a scan of the scene himself.

"Her going willingly wouldn't be such a stretch," Aitana shrugged, "If it was the same unsub, all it would take is for him to tell Monica a couple details of Hope and she'd be more than compliant."

"Still, it's pretty high-risk to abduct in such a high-traffic area," Hotch said, drawing from what Morgan had told him earlier of the scene. "The parking lot was right next to a strip mall."

"Any witnesses?" asked Emily.

"I was the last person that saw her," Penelope said with a sigh.

"Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we should assume that the same unsub is responsible for both abductions," said Hotch, "So let's get started."

The others agreed and started getting up.

Aitana took that as her chance to hurry to her office for a change of clothes. She already couldn't stand the fact she didn't get to go home for a shower first but at least a change of clothes would help her out a bit, along with some perfume. She pulled on a white button-down shirt and black pants, slipped on a pair of flats, fixed her hair as much as she could and returned to the team ready to work. By the time she rejoined, Emily and Rossi had gone to Monica's home to do another examination while the rest of the team remained back to go over Hope's case.

"So this letter Monica allegedly received from her daughter contains no indication of female authorship," Spencer was telling the others. He had Hope's letter on the screen behind him. "It lacks expression of emotional attachment."

"The unsub wrote it?" Hotch presumed.

"I believe so. The language used is inconsistent with that of a 15-year-old held in captivity for 7 years."

"No way that he forced her to write it then?" Aitana said as she came up behind Penelope's chair.

"I don't think so," Spencer shook his head. "By this point in time, Hope would have Stockholm syndrome and she'd be more than compliant to write a letter. The language doesn't fit."

"Uh, I just got a hit on someone who matches Monica's description at a gas station 17 miles outside of Manassas," Penelope said with an urgent urgent in her tone. She pulled up the security camera she talked about and sure enough they saw Monica conversing with a man in the gas station store.

"Hope's not with him," noted JJ.

"It looks like they're having a conversation," Spencer said a couple seconds later. Monica seemed totally at ease and not at all frightened.

"She's cooperating," JJ realized. "Garcia, can you get any closer?"

Penelope tried with all her might. "No. No, I can't get a good look at him."

"Don't fret, he's doing it on purpose," Aitana said as she moved around Penelope's chair. "Look at the unsub's body language. He's shielding himself from the cameras. He knows where they are and he knows exactly what he's doing."

A couple seconds later in the video, Monica made a hasty retreat out the store.

"She leaves, but the unsub stays?" Even as Spencer asked, the others were still trying to wrap their heads around the phenomenon.

"Because the unsub knows she won't actually go," Aitana said, watching as the unsub left the store a couple minutes later. "He's in control."

Hotch agreed. "He's not worried about her contacting the authorities. Garcia, run the pump receipts against the timeline. Maybe he used a credit card."

Penelope was quick to go through the information. "Pumps one...through 9. Nothing. Who goes to a gas station and doesn't buy anything?"

Spencer moved to the map he'd brought in and checked a couple of the sites between the support group and the station they were in. "There are plenty of service stations between the community center and here, but he drove her clear across town. This place must mean something to the both of them."

"This could be where it all started," theorized Hotch.

When Emily, Morgan and Rossi returned, the group had already gotten a report from the person who lived in Monica's old home. She'd been there with the unsub, in the latter's car, completely fine.

"The old man didn't get much of a description on the unsub or the truck," said JJ as she went over the notes, "He did say Monica had been by a lot recently. Apparently somebody dropped a letter for her a week ago. The owner called her to come pick it up, and ever since then she's been parked outside the house."

"What's this guy doing with her?" Penelope asked with all the indignance of the world. She didn't understand the game here!

"If he's had Hope captive for 7 years, she's completely compliant by now," Spencer said, "He might have abducted Monica as a reward for good behavior."

"Or he could be getting off on the fact that he successfully abducted a mother and a daughter," Rossi suggested, not that it was a better reason.

"Okay," Aitana returned to the group with a file in her hand, "So I went back through the original Hope case and Monica's statement the day of Hope's abduction confirmed that she made a purchase at the same gas station hours before Hope went missing. Coincidence that they happened to go there tonight? I think not."

"He's taking her through all the steps of Hope's abduction," Hotch concluded, "Having both of them could have been his plan all along."

JJ made a face; that wasn't sitting right with her. "So are we saying he's sexually diverse, attracted to children and adults?"

"The unsub stalked Monica, so he knew about the spare key under the mat," said Morgan, "He had complete access. So why wait 7 years to circle back if that's the case?"

"The butterfly could symbolically represent not just transformation but maturation of his erotic ideal," Spencer offered another reason.

"Well, he started with easy targets. Children are much easier to abduct, manipulate, and control," Emily listed the unfortunate many reasons, "Or he could be a preferential offender and a situational child molester, meaning adult women have always been his preference, but given the right circumstances he'd offend against a child."

"Monica's not a preference. She's a specific target," Rossi pointed out. This was the whole reason of the case, after all. "He didn't go after just any woman, he went after Hope's mother."

"Which means that Hope is probably dead and he's taken Monica because she reminds him of Hope," Hotch reached the conclusion first.

Penelope couldn't help the distraught face she made upon hearing that. That was all Monica put her faith in and now it turned out her daughter was actually dead.

~ 0 ~

"So, what's the word, genius?" Morgan approached Spencer near the map board. The latter had been working alone and hard for the past hour or so.

"I may have been able to narrow down the unsub's comfort zone," Spencer proudly said as he turned back to meet Morgan. "The gas station was the third point I needed to complete the geographical profile. Factoring in Monica's abduction site and her apartment, I would assume the unsub lives somewhere within this area." He gestured to the circle he drew on the board.

"That would make it easier for him to learn her routines," said Morgan as he eyed the known streets in the area.

"That zone can't be more than 20 miles," Rossi said as he did the same as Morgan. It was a sliver of hope.

JJ finished up with a call and when she hung up, she informed the group that they had yet to find a witness to their case.

Emily and Aitana joined them a couple minutes later with their own findings.

"You know, it looks like there are 5 different reported incidents that we might be able to attribute to this unsub," Emily announced.

"When was the first case reported?" asked Rossi.

"Six months before Hope's abduction," Aitana raised a finger. "And you'll see why we think it's the same guy."

"A 12-year-old girl in the area reported a man taking pictures of her on her way home from school, and 3 weeks after that, she thought he was peeping into her window," Emily started going over the first case from their file. "And then her house was burglarized, and the only thing that was missing were her clothes."

"Well, if that's him, then there was a clear escalation in his M. O. He was building his confidence to abduct Hope and then 7 years later, Monica," Spencer said.

"Except there's a little blip between that and Hope's case," Aitana said, gesturing for Emily to show them something.

Emily revealed an evidence bag with a small butterfly necklace inside. "It was found on Heather Wilson's bike 2 weeks after Hope disappeared."

Penelope's face jerked up from her laptop she brought over to the bullpen. "That's the girl that Hope was playing with when she was abducted." She jumped from her seat and hurried over to Emily.

"There's a message," Aitana said regretfully. She knew Penelope wouldn't like it.

Penelope took the necklace into her hand and read the engraving on it. "'Without you, she wouldn't have been set free. This is a token of my appreciation'?" She looked up, horrified. "He sent a thank-you card to the girl he didn't abduct?"

~ 0 ~

The only logical step afterwards was to once again speak with Heather Wilson, now a high schooler and very different from her childhood photos. High school Heather was brunette now, not blonde, with dark pink streaks in her hair and heavy black eyeliner. As Aitana and JJ approached the girl just outside the school bus, both agents knew that Heather had never outlived the trauma of losing Hope.

"Heather?" JJ called to the teenager. The brunette looked at the two approaching women. "I'm Agent Jareau. This is Agent Serrano. We're with the FBI. We have some questions about Hope Kingston. Do you remember her?"

Heather almost rolled her eyes. "What do you think?"

Fair point. Aitana decided to skip to the crucial part about their visit. "Heather, we have reason to believe that the same man who took Hope abducted her mother last night."

Heather was already a pale shade but when Aitana mentioned the abduction, she went a deep pale shade. "This can't be happening again."

"Did you and Hope play together often?" asked JJ.

"Every day. She was like a sister."

"You told the police that you saw a man watching you guys play that day—"

"Look, I've been through this a thousand times. I wish I could help you more, I really do, but I gotta get to class now." It was clear Heather was making a run for it and as such, Aitana pulled a card she didn't exactly feel proud of but felt was necessary for the greater good.

"You put streaks in your hair because it's a constant reminder of how much you two looked alike!"

Heather froze in her spot. The two agents could see the girl's shoulders beginning to shake. "You don't know anything about me."

"I'm sorry, I…I noticed that in your pictures," Aitana said. She had to apologize for playing that dirty card. "And I also know that you struggle to let people in because you're afraid of losing them. And that you are constantly asking yourself why he took Hope instead of you?"

Heather was in tears, making Aitana feel not much better about herself. "Are you done?"

"Listen, if there's something that you know, please tell us," JJ spoke up out of sympathy for both Heather and Aitana. Neither seemed very much okay.

The good thing is that Heather turned around again, deciding to answer their questions. "It wasn't the first time I had seen him," she admitted. "It was a week earlier when Hope and I were at the park."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No."

"Can you tell us about the day Hope was abducted?" Aitana regretted asking, knowing how hard it would be for Heather to do it. She was grateful that Heather still tried.

"Um...we were playing hide-and-go-seek in front of her house. I had just finished counting. And I turned around, and there he was...just standing there smiling at me. He was holding a jar of butterflies. He knew that would get my attention. And that's when he asked if he could play. And I told him he could. I'll never forget that voice."

Aitana didn't have a perfect memory like others but she was sure that what Heather had just told them wasn't in the case file. It meant Heather kept it to herself and had only now admitted to it. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

Heather rubbed an eye to dry it. "Because it was my fault. I'm the one who told him that he could play with us. I overheard my dad saying that someone put a butterfly necklace on my bike. Then he asked if I knew who had put it there. It was my chance to come clean...but I just kept my mouth shut!"

"It's not your fault, Heather," JJ said, reaching a comforting hand on Heather's shoulder. "It was that guy's fault, not yours."

Heather nodded to herself but she was a distraught mess with the resurfaced memories.

~ 0 ~

Before returning to the BAU, Aitana very sheepishly asked JJ if she was willing to make a quick detour to her house.

"Thank you!" Aitana practically ran inside her house to have a five minute shower upstairs.

JJ laughed as she stepped inside afterwards. "Don't worry. I won't touch anything!"

"Feel free to grab food!" Aitana hollered from upstairs.

JJ waited patiently in the living room, distracting herself with the large fish tank Aitana had against a wall. It was always a sight to see the various kinds of fishes swimming inside, especially when she knew each fish represented some ungodly fantasy in Aitana's mind. Her personal favorite was the fish representing Mercury. It was simply beautiful.

Aitana came back downstairs wearing a long sleeve blue shirt, black pants and with wet curly hair dangling over her shoulders. "I really needed that," she said as soon as she spotted JJ. The blonde was looking at the portraits on the fireplace.

JJ smiled at the brunette. "Glad you're better now."

"Yes. I'm not really keen on smelling like sweat," Aitana shuddered. "I like my perfume better. Plus smelling like soap over sweat is good on any day."

JJ laughed. She had to agree there. "I'm sure it'll be worth it when you have your competition. When is it again?"

"Right, it's next month on the 23rd. Eleven a.m. at the park."

"I will jot it down on the calendar," JJ promised, "I'm sure Henry will love the dances."

"It'll be all vibrant colors and full of food," Aitana said, shaking her head to get rid of some droplets. "It's like a mini-festival. Fun for the whole family!"

"Sounds like the perfect place, then. I can't remember the last time Will, Henry and I got to do something as a family. This job doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for planning."

"I know," Aitana sighed. "That's why I was so reluctant to accept the dance proposal in the first place. Elia convinced me; I used to do this way before Witness Protection. But I'm still super nervous about it."

"I bet," JJ said, "I used to do volleyball in high school and no matter how many times I played a game, seeing the crowd always made me nervous."

"My grandmother's flying in from Mexico to come see me dance," Aitana crossed the living room to stand beside JJ. "She used to dance folklore professionally in her day and she was always so happy that one of her granddaughters followed in her footsteps." JJ chuckled. "She was so upset that I stopped dancing — she has no idea about Witness Protection — so now that I started dancing again, she wants to come see me."

"And let me guess, you're even more nervous about that?" JJ only bothered to ask out of sheer politeness. The answer was clear as day on Aitana's face.

"Yes," Aitana let out a heavy breath. "I haven't danced in years. What if I'm terrible?"

"I don't think so," JJ said, "I bet you're a wonderful dancer."

"Spencer said something like that too. He thinks I shouldn't worry too much; that my grandmother just wants to see me."

"Ah," JJ's eyebrows raised significantly as she fought back a smile. "So he knew that too?"

Aitana nodded her head. Her eyes had fallen on a portrait on the mantle to notice the look on JJ's face. "Yeah. I mean, he's probably right but it doesn't take all the nerves away."

"Well," JJ folded her arms over her chest, "Spence does tend to be right most of the time."

Aitana cracked a smile. "I've noticed." She picked up a portrait and turned it over to JJ. "That's my grandmother."

JJ took the portrait into her hands and studied the picture. It was an elderly woman with soft brown eyes, reminiscent of her granddaughter's. She stood beside a slightly younger Aitana and Mateo Serrano. They seemed to be on a ranch judging by the natural scenery behind them.

"I haven't seen her since before Witness," Aitana said, "Safe to say I am nervous from all angles."

"Don't be," JJ said, handing Aitana the portrait back, "Because I can tell from that picture that she loves you so much. She'll be proud of you no matter what."

Aitana shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." She carefully put the portrait back on its place. "We should get back. I'm sure Penelope's going crazy."

JJ nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's go."

Aitana moved ahead first and swiped her keys off the foyer table.

"Hey Aitana, I really think you should ease up about your grandmother," JJ said as they headed for the car. "I know it's easier said than done but you're going to be great. And I'm sure that Spencer probably already told you that too."

"You guys are in sync or something," Aitana sarcastically said, even feigning a surprised gap.

"We've known each for more than years now," JJ reminded her. They climbed into the car and grabbed their seatbelts. "Which is why I know that you should listen to him."

"Mm, it's easier said than done, remember?" Aitana's face fell grim for a second. "Lately I've been thinking more about how I act thanks to Witness Protection. Sometimes, I feel like I'm still not all that great. This is actually the first big event I go to after that. It's scary."

JJ could figure as much considering the big event that Aitana had to go through. "It's a normal part of PTSD." She started driving into the road.

"But it's not like the cases that we see or talk about. There's just moments where I have to stop…" Aitana felt like she should just get over it and leave the label for people who actually suffer enormously from it. She had blips, moments — could that be considered PTSD?

"It's part of it," JJ told her, "And big or small, you have every right to process it. It's not something to be ashamed of."

Aitana shrugged meekly. "That's why I kept quiet about the dance too. Sorry about that."

"Don't even worry about it," JJ smiled, "Just know that we're all going to be there, cheering you on."

Aitana had no doubt about that. She would focus on that instead, or at least try to before the competition.

~0~

Aitana and JJ returned to the BAU after the profile had been delivered. The two agents joined their team to continue discussing their next steps. Somehow, Hotch and Rossi came up with the conclusion that maybe their unsub was actually part of Penelope's support group.

"That would just be horrendous," Aitana whispered to Morgan and Emily as they watched JJ take Penelope away to conduct a cognitive session.

"Among everything else about this case?" Morgan raised an eyebrow at her. She deadpanned him but of course he was right.

Half an hour later, JJ and Penelope re-emerged with a clear idea of who the unsub was. Penelope vividly remembered a man in her support group who went after Monica towards the end of the group session.

"So William Rogers joined the support group 2 months ago," JJ told the rest of the group in the conference room. "Garcia's still looking for an address."

"Any priors?" asked Hotch.

JJ nodded. "Yeah. An attempted kidnapping of a 14-year-old. He lured her to a studio with promises of becoming a model. When she got there, he made sexual advances. She got away."

"You know, rethinking the type of offender he was 7 years ago, it's possible the unsub didn't sexually assault Hope initially but waited until she was older," Spencer said after a moment's thought. His theory had the others thinking as well.

"That would explain why he held on to her all this time," Emily said, he'd head bobbing from one side to the other, "In his fantasy, he might envision Hope at a more desirable age."

"What story did he use to get into the support group?" Hotch asked JJ.

"Well, he told them his pregnant wife committed suicide. Apparently they were trying to conceive for over a year."

"And that wasn't just a story," sighed Aitana. No chance of that. "Hope couldn't bear the thought of bringing his child into this world, so she took what little control she did have and ended her life."

"And that was never part of his plan," Rossi said with a shake of his head. "It turned his world upside down. He's not ready to let go of the bond he had with Hope. And now he's trying to get back what was taken from him."

"Wouldn't it just be easier for him to start over again?" JJ said, exasperated with the constant loops.

"Unless Monica could give him what he lost," Morgan said slowly like he was still coming to the conclusion. "...another didn't take Monica to remind him of Hope, he took her to recreate her."

The conclusion also brought the team to another dark matter that meant Monica was in even more danger than they previously thought.

~0~

"Where is Penelope going?" Emily asked Morgan when she and Aitana spotted Penelope heading straight for the elevator. They had just gotten the home addresses of William from Penelope herself.

Morgan seemed tired and it wasn't from the lack of sleep. "I tried telling her 'no'. Either of you want to take a go?"

Emily and Aitana exchanged glances, both silently asking each other who wanted to take a turn.

"I...will go get her a vest," Aitana declared.

Morgan smiled tightly. "Yeah."

The team split into two groups to take each address. Hotch, Emily, Rossi and Aitana's location turned out to be the old address William still used, no doubt for illegal reasons. It all looked perfectly normal for it not to be a hideout. One call to JJ and they found out that the second address was the real home, the one with all of Hope's things, including her own corpse.

Poor Penelope was so out of it when they were able to close the case, and with good reason. Monica had taken the only control she had in the situation and killed Bill with his own gun. It was deemed self control and emotional in the moment, but it didn't take away the fact that Monica would probably not be coming back to the support group.

"She'll just need some time," JJ told Morgan who'd come from a failed attempt of talking to Penelope. The blonde had locked herself in her office.

"I know," Morgan nodded. In truth, it was always what one of them needed after a particularly hard case.

"Why don't we go out for a drink or something?" Emily said on her way up to them. It was like she had been part of the conversation the whole time, reading minds.

"I'm all for it," JJ said, letting out a big breath.

"Me too," Morgan nodded. "Who's going to tell the local hush-hushers over there?"

Both JJ and Emily laughed as Morgan gestured up ahead of them to Aitana and Spencer. It seemed like Aitana was looking at something Spencer held in his hands.

"Yeah, I already went to the first three," Aitana pointed at the three store names Spencer wrote down for her weeks ago. "They didn't have the right one. I'm going to go to the last store tomorrow."

"I have a couple other ideas where you might be able to find them," Spencer said, grabbing his knapsack off his desk. "We can go later this week if you want?"

"Sure!" Aitana exclaimed. They started walking towards the elevator, giving brief waves at the others on their way past them.

"Who's going to tell them?" Morgan made the question as if he was dead serious on the matter, and maybe he was.

JJ half snorted, almost laughing.

"C'mon," Emily patted Morgan's arm, "First round's on me."

That time, JJ did laugh.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

My thoughts jotted down as I read The Silmarillion for the first time:

The Silmarillion has been pretty good so far so I thought it’d be fun to record my personal thoughts as I read! I’ve been mainly reading this book in chunks, so the end of the bullet points is where I’ve stopped for the day. But enjoy my weird thoughts!

To my Taemin photocard that I used as a bookmark when I read the Lord of the Rings books: Alright, Taemin, we’re going in.

This reads very biblically, is it supposed to be??

Ah, so Melkor’s main problem is that he can’t create anything new himself, only corrupt and twist things that are already there.

(Finally understanding random bits of info I’ve learned online) Ohhhh, THAT’S what that is! Cool!

Ok Yavanna DEFINITELY loves hobbits.

Ohhh Nienna DEFINITELY likes Frodo.

So are the Eagles servants of Manwë???

Damn this worldbuilding is ELITE!

(“But Ulmo was alone, and he abode not in Valinor, nor ever came thither unless there were need for a great council…”) Sounds like my dream tbh

(Ilúvatar talking about his plans to create Elves and Men and how much he loves the Earth) Uhhh you may want to look into that a bit more, bud.

Huh. I’ve never thought about the human struggle to find the meaning of life and life’s purpose as being a gift, but it makes sense, since humanity as a whole constantly seeks to learn and grow and expand beyond what we already know.

Maybe that’s also why Melkor hates men, because they’ll always seek to learn more and expand to outside his influence and control, so by nature of their existence he can’t control them.

(Reading about Aulë being willing to smite the Dwarves for Ilúvatar before Ilúvatar stops him) So that’s a reference to the Bible story of Abraham and Isaac, right??

Ohhhh so that’s why the Elves and Dwarves hate each other… I don’t really care for that.

So who would be the one to create therapy??? Would that be Nienna??

“Next came the Noldor, a name of wisdom.” *laughs in very basic knowledge of what’s about to happen next*

Remarriage and your son hating his stepmom and half brothers; yeah I can definitely see this being a problem.

Oh yeah this is DEFINITELY going to be a problem.

I dunno why I always love the bad guys in stories, but I just think Ungoliant is kinda cool.

“But Liv she lives only for herself and her own consumption and she’s a SPIDER” YEAH AND IT’S FUNNY AND SEXY WHAT’S YOUR POINT

*Ungoliant eats the Trees two pages later*

Damn, the cruel irony of Fëanor and Fingolfin reaching a truce and everything looking like it’s going to be okay RIGHT as Melkor and Ungoliant destroy the Trees… I bet Tolkien was giggling evilly to himself while he wrote that chapter.

[footnoteinhistory]

Finished TJLS today here are my random thoughts on the last two seasons and things that I saved as drafts but didn't post

I watched the last two seasons in the span of about 48 hours, which probably contributed to my burnout towards the show (I was ready for it to END), but also. LOL. I know they were caught between a rock and a hard place but. the tail end of TJLS makes the final seasons of Night Court look like prestige TV

Which pisses me offfffff because it was SUCH an amazing show. Genuinely the first season (and even much of s2) was, as most people who've watched it say, some of the best television I've ever seen. So raw and blunt and dark. Look at how they massacred my boy!! More thoughts on that at the end

TJLS season 3 episode 9 Hem says something rude and I thought “oh that shouldn’t be as hot as it is” and he proceeds to say it another dozen times as a recurring bit the whole scene. Literally perked up when he said it then felt embarrassed bc I do not like when men use that word but. Then he said it over and over and over again

His fake beard in s3ep19 sorry for moaning. daddy. sorry

Society if The John Larroquette Show didn’t force us to suffer through Catherine for three seasons. STOP trying to make their relationship happen it's not going to happen!!!

However her begging him to get her pregnant is kind of #real. Shoutout to the TJLS rawdogging episode

My least favorite TJLS episode turning out to be a Pynchon homage… who is surprised. No one can make me like his stories!

I abhor violence of course but I think Carly should’ve been allowed to kill Catherine with a gun (I think I wrote this during when Catherine waltzed in during their wedding)

She really became insufferable like at times I willed myself to like Catherine and tolerate her but her last few episodes... girl move on

Omg Hem calling himself “John nomiddlename Hemingway” during his vows is an obvious homage to how I always say Carl middlename Sack or Alan middlename Shore… a reference to me in TJLS wow <3

I love John Hemingway more than the moon and the stars but I do think he should be isolated from the rest of the human population in solitary confinement for his and our sakes (I think I wrote this when he suggested he and Carly and Catherine all live together but I could've written it at any point of late s3 to all of s4)

Hem was so sensitive and introspective and determined in the first season but by the end he was just. any sitcom dumb guy :( He could be a real jerk in ways I know season 1 Hemingway wouldn't be 🥺

Back to general thoughts: I'm just trying to wrap my mind around how they fumbled it so bad. The biggest (of many) problems was John/Catherine/Carly and how long it was dragged out. And even when Catherine was finally out of the picture (mostly?) they couldn't let John and Carly be happy together!!!! Not for a fucking moment!!

Also I think the episodes are out of order (even on IMDb) or something is missing because certain things in season 4 did not line up at ALL, which I noticed with an earlier season too. And since their relationships were so messy anyway, it was hard to figure out

Also still haven't been able to find s4ep12 which doesn't seem to exist anywhere. Maybe I'll have to risk buying a bootleg and hoping it's on there :|

Once we FINALLY got past the love triangle stuff we thankfully returned to more bus station hijinks, only so many of them were dumb and poorly written. Womp womp

I DID love all the fourth wall breaks and other references that hit back at NBC/network execs/the changes they were forced to make. Sitcom guerrilla warfare

TLDR John you are so sexy I'm sorry they did your show so dirty. Maybe if you didn't dye your hair this wouldn't have happened

[bambibreanathebarbiebimbo]

I wrote this little sissy story to an Alpha BBC Daddy I’ve been talking with for years! He enjoyed it so much I thought I’d share it here! 🏳️‍⚧️♠️😳🏳️‍🌈💖💋🍆💕💁🏼‍♀️

I wanna wake up in a completely pink girly princess themed room and be handcuffed to a big pink fluffy bed with girly stuffed animals and look down to see I’m in a ridiculously over the top girly princess outfit with super girly nails and all of a sudden the door unlocks from the other side and you come in…You have a cruel grin on your face and you are holding a remote control menacingly.

“Hey princess. You got your wish! Your fate is finally sealed!”

My heart starts pounding as I realize it’s you.

“You’ve been out of consciousness for a little over a month baby girl! I can’t wait to show you all the changes I’ve made!”

You come over and unlock the handcuffs and help me out of bed. My muscles have atrophied and I am so weak I can barely stand on my own. You try and hold back a chuckle at how weak and feminine you’ve made my body but it comes out of your mouth as you help me out of bed like some little helpless teen girl.

“You’ll regain some strength in no time princess but I had to make sure we got rid of all of those yucky muscles. You’ve lost about 70 pounds my skinny little baby!”

I notice that I feel very weird and my brain feels super fuzzy. I have a strong urge to walk with my heels up as if I’m wearing stilettos and to make my wrists out and limp like some poseable doll. You laugh as you lead me over to an enormous glam mirror with pink glittery rhinestones all over it.

My heart drops into my stomach… I can barely even recognize myself.. I look like I should be in a literal dollhouse..

My face is still somewhat my face but subtle changes have made it look so much more feminine and doll like. Plump cheeks plump lips and a killer jawline. My teeth have been touched up and made hyper white. I have tits now… and big ones too but to the point where they look natural but still soooo slutty.. My curves are INSANE I look like I got send to the same place the kardashians go my hips and ass are so plump and juicy it actually starts to turn me on a little bit and that’s when it hits me….

Something’s missing..

Oh no…

Oh fuck…

“That’s right princess! The biggest surprise of all!” You grab the frilly floofy bottom of my dress and pull it up to reveal my crotch…

Flat… completely flat…

You grab my ass and squeeze and whisper in my ear “Bambi sleep” and you press a button on the remote in your hand an insanely powerful electric shock along with a vibration surges through my entire body as pain and pleasure explode from the buttplug that’s been in me all this time. I squeal like a little girl and almost pass out. The last thing I see before being carried back to my big pink bed is you leaning in for a long sexy tongue involved kiss and then the last thing I hear as I drift back to a hypno induced slumber is “I can’t wait to show the new you to that girlfriend of yours. She’s gonna love that that pathetic little worm of yours is gone forever.”

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I love love love your denial-verse series. I really enjoyed your characterization of Tommy, Buck and Eddie in them.

I’m also so glad about the way you wrote Taylor. People tend to villainize her in fanfics but you wrote her so well. She was my fav LI other than Tommy. She wasn’t a good fit but the show gave her something other than being just a LI.

Speaking of character who are just LIs in the show, I even loved the way you wrote Marisol. The show never really gave her any characterization and you wrote her so well even her not being such a good person was well written. There were so many signs that both Tommy and I missed.

Can’t wait to read whatever you post next.

Oh my gosh, thank you so much 🥺 The Denial-verse series is a labor of love and it's been such a bonus and a joy to know that other people love it too.

Now, this is more like behind-the-scenes, craft stuff, but I will say that I'm not actually a huge fan of Taylor Kelly. But I also believe that part of what you should do in writing is find what inspires you about a character and let that shine and live with that in order to create the well-rounded character you can write with them. And, you know, I like Taylor Kelly much more after writing her than I did before. While she's not a good match for Buck, it is a little disappointing that she doesn't have a once-or-twice-a-season cameo or a seasonal mini-arc with her involved as a frenemy reporter who might shine a good or bad light on the LAFD.

And, people can use death of the author here, but I wrote Marisol here to feel like a friend. Someone likable even if they're not perfect. And there are a lot of people out there who have her same red flags. Many of them can figure themselves out, grow out of those bad thoughts, reframe how they view the world for the better, become those better people; and many of them don't. I feel that what makes Marisol hurt the most is the possibility of goodness in her and her sheer denial of wrongdoing; her inability to look past her perceived reality and grow into someone who can live with what happened without lashing out in harsh and unfair ways because her life isn't what she thought it was. I like Marisol. I don't like Marisol in the show, more because they treated her like a sexy lamp more than anything, but I liked this Marisol. And that's why she hurts so much when she sours - because people you think would be kind to you can be, sometimes, crueler than anyone else.

I'm sorry. I'm talking your ear off here. But I just wanted to say thank you for loving the series. Thank you for reading. The Denial-verse is, for the most part, a character study in loneliness, belonging, what it means to be and feel loved, and what steps it takes to finally believe one can have happiness, and it truly blows me away that people have been enjoying it as much as I've liked writing it.

Also, the fourth story within the Denial-verse,  The Fire is Inside the House, is out now if you'd like to read the first chapter.

Thank you again for this magnificent ask. I hope you have a spectacular morning, day, or afternoon wherever you are!

[jaesqueso]

Paid love (m)

pairing: stripper!taeyong x CEO female!reader (feat taeil, mark, haechan, doyoung and mentions of jaehyun and johnny)

summary: you’re a regular at taeyong’s shows at the strip club, but you want to give him more than just paid love

word count: 5,748

warnings: fluff, smut, slow burn, stripping, protected sex

a/n: time for the birthday gift to myself! this turned out way bigger than I intended but this story has been on my mind for so long that it just made sense to have it ready for today, must I say his solo stage on their tour was a big inspiration 😉 I hope ya’ll enjoy it ❤ not proof read yet

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

“Come in.” Taeil responds to the knock on his office door.

“Mr Moon, she’s here.” Mark announces with a smile.

“Oh, perfect!” Locking the computer, Taeil follows the bartender back to the club.

Mark goes back behind the counter as the other makes his way on the costumer side.

“Miss Y/LN, always a pleasure seeing you here.” He takes your hand kissing the back of it.

“Taeil…” You tilt your head with a knowing look.

“Right, I’m sorry. Y/N.” For a long time you’ve been insisting on him treating you by your first name but it still seems like a hard task. “You look beautiful tonight. As always.”

“Oh, you are too sweet.” You chuckle teasingly tapping his shoulder.

“Do you have something to drink yet?” He asks but then notices a bartender deliver it, right on time.

“Yes, Haechan was already taking care of it.” You assure him and then return to the bartender with a playful wink. “Thank you darling.”

“Let me walk you to your table.” Taeil gestures for you to take the lead, following right behind.

For months you’ve been coming to this club and you’re not particularly shy with the money you spend here, so that comes with some advantages like some VIP treatment and your own reserved table specially at a particular time.

“You’ve arrived just in time, he’s about to start.” Taeil helps you take a sit right in front of the stage.

“Don’t I always?” You smirk.

Ladies, a round of applause for Jaehyun!

“Of course.” The owner of the club smiles. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you, Taeil.” You say but your eyes are already glued to the stage as the stripper leaves and they announce the next one.

And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. With you on stage: TY!

Your eyes light up as the room goes dark. Then the curtains open and there he is, laying on a moon shaped light structure. A sexy upbeat song starts playing and he starts bouncing his head as some lights come back up.

The audience sheers as he runs a hand down his torso before lifting up to a sitting position and turning to face the front of the stage. Your heart almost skips a beat as he gets up and starts walking like he’s coming your way, lip syncing every word like he wrote it himself.

Sipping on your drink, you take some time admiring his attire before it goes flying around the room: black shiny boots with a bit of a heel, brown sparkle pants with a snake print, leather black vest and gloves overlaid by a camel leather jacket.

His body starts moving along the beat, like he’s taken over by the music and they become one, just like every night. His moves are smooth and sexy, using the whole stage as his own. His hands travel freely over the clothes as his hips move at such a controlled pace.

Teasing the audience by dragging his jacket down his shoulders, he then pulls it back up with a smirk and spins, making everybody scream in anticipation. But has the song comes to a bass drop he finally gives the public what they want, removing the jacket and throwing it somewhere you don’t even care to look at, your eyes only fixed on him.

You now notice the cut outs on the sides of his vest, giving you a hint of that lean torso of his. But as the music progresses you’re given an even better look as he rips the vest open, rolling his body at the perfect tempo.

Having enough with the piece of clothing he removes the vest too, making your mouth water as he runs his glove covered hands down his chest until he reaches his crotch, giving it a tight squeeze.

Coming to the bridge of the song he dolphin dives into the floor, staying down practically humping the stage as the crowd goes wild. You feel yourself tugging on the collar of your shirt, your body heat increasing by the second.

Unfortunately you know the track by heart and can feel it coming to its end as he gets up and dances his way back the moon structure, standing in front of it. When the final beat hits the smoke fire and he rips his pants, giving you only a glance of his legs before the lights go out once again.

That was TY, ladies, make some noise!

The audience does not disappoint, cheering and throwing dollar bills at the stage, begging him to come back. But that doesn’t happen as the speaker announces the next performer.

It’s hard following on that but you know he never disappoints. Give it up for Johnny!

The crowd quickly forgets about him as the taller tanned man gets up on stage to do his thing, but you get up and walk back to the bar.

“Miss, the room is ready.” Another worker of the club approaches you after Haechan treats you to a re-fill of your drink earning himself a generous tip.

“Thank you, Doyoung.” You follow him with a smile into the private rooms on the left side of the club.

“Make yourself comfortable, TY will be right with you.” He lets you know as you get inside.

“Perfect.” You take a sit on the purple couch but call the boy before he closes the door. “Tell him to keep the gloves on.”

“Will do, Miss.” Bowing he leaves you to anxiously wait in the neon lit room with a pole in the middle.

Some sensual R&B song starts playing in the room, giving you chills as you know he’s arriving. A light knock on the door is heard before you finally make real eye contact.

“Hey.” The sound of his voice is enough to make you feel at home.

“TY.” You bite your lip as he enters the room in only his boots, gloves, as you requested, and the black leather underwear you barely saw before.

“Did you like my show today?” He takes a spin around the dance pole.

“It was perfect, as always.” You admire the way he moves so naturally.

“What about the outfit?” He leans against the pole tugging on his gloves. “I heard you requested to keep these on.”

“I did.” You adjust on your seat. “Seeing you touch yourself with them, I couldn’t help wonder how they’d feel on me.”

“Why do you keep trying to corrupt me?” He walks your way with a smirk. “You know there are rules.”

“I know, I know.” You sigh. “But a gentle touch in the arm is not forbidden, is it?”

“You always know how to get your way don’t you?” Suddenly he leans forward, one of his hands resting on the back of the couch, right next to your head, while the other follows your request gently moving down your arm.

“I do my best.” You close your eyes taking in the touch. “And I have a feeling you don’t mind walking on the line for me.”

“Aren’t you cocky?” He leans back again rolling his body to the beat, this time in a slower sexier way than before on the stage.

“Aren’t you avoiding the question?” You smirk attentively following his moves with your hungry eyes.

“Well played.” He grins turning around, continuing to dance.

“So, have you thought about it?” You ask the question stuck in your throat for a while.

“About what?” He glances back as he pretends not to know what you’re talking about.

“Oh c’mon…” Moving your hands to rest on the couch at either side, you give him room to sit on your lap, his back facing you. “Ok, I’ll play your game and ask the question again. When are you going to let me take you on a real date?”

“Why would you want to take me on a real date?” He asks back instead of replying, moving his hips against you.

“Because I like you, you know that.” You tuck some money on the side of his underwear. “And I want to know more about you.”

“You don’t like me, Y/N, you like the idea of me.” Grabbing your hands he runs them up and down his torso, it’s forbidden for you to touch him but not if he leads you.

“How do you know that?” You take a deep breath, inhaling his hypnotising scent.

“Because you don’t know me.” He gets up and turn not face you. “Not outside of these walls.”

“So let me get to know you outside of these walls.” You rest your head back on the couch, eyes still on him.

“What if you don’t like me out there?” He climbs back on your lap but this time facing you, one leg at each of your side.

“You’re scared I’ll break your heart?” Watching the way he looks down you can tell that’s a weak spot for him. “TY, I’m not like those other women out there. I want to get to know and I want to treat you right. Why do you think I come here only for your shows and this time alone with you?”

“For the fantasy.” He looks back into your eyes. “The TY fantasy.”

“As much as I like the TY fantasy, I’d rather have the real you reality.” You lift your hand to touch his face but stop yourself before a body guard barges in.

“If you don’t stop the smooth talk I might believe it.” A nervous smile grows on his face as he supports himself on the space between your neck and your should to roll his abs right on your face.

“You sound like I’m trying to convince you of a lie.” You tuck some more money, now in the front of his underwear. “But deep down you know I’m telling the truth, you’re just scared to be vulnerable and open the possibility that you might like me too.”

He doesn’t reply and keeps teasing you with his body at the beat of the track list. You decide not to insist, enjoying the show as you empty your wallet on the waistband of his underwear.

It’s weird to be silent like this, you usually talk about everything and anything, teasing each other in between, honestly enjoy these moments alone, even if you’re being watched by the security camera at the corner of the room.

“I should go.” He sighs getting himself together as the music set comes to an end indicating the time in the room is up.

“They should really let me book the room for longer.” You try to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah…” He almost whispers heading for the door.

“TY?” You call out before he reaches the handle.

“Yes?” He doesn’t turn around making your heart tighten

“If this is starting to make you uncomfortable let me know and I’ll stop.” You get up and tell him honestly. “I just want you to know that I mean what I said. I like you and I’d really love to take you out and get to know you. But I won’t insist anymore, I don’t want you to feel pressured just because of the money.”

There’re some seconds of more silence that make you sigh and sit back down. But then he speaks.

“I’m not working Friday night. You can take me to dinner.” He keeps facing the door.

“Really?” You gasp, not believing what you’re hearing.

“You can pick me up here at 7.” He then glances back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You give him the biggest smile you can pull out and he turns away and heads out before you see how happy he is too.

A few days go by and it’s finally Friday. In front of the mirror you examine every inch of your look making sure you are perfect, from your killer dress showing off all your best atributes, to your stiletto heels, matching bag and fur coat. One final touch on your lipstick and you head out the door ready for the date of your life.

At the same time, your date changes his shirt 5 times before realising he doesn’t have any shoes to go with it and has to change it once more, his hair does not seem to work on his favour and, since he’s working against the clock, he decides on pushing it back with some wax and praying for the best. Taking a deep breath in front of the mirror, he nods as if trying to convince himself he looks good enough for you before he grabs his jacket and leaves.

Pacing from side to side, he starts picking his nails as he second guesses himself. Maybe he should’ve kept saying no. You’ll probably lose interest in him today and he’ll lose the one he expects to see the most when he goes on stage. He’s not even sure if by doing this he will put his job on the line. There’s still time to go back, hide in his covers and pretend-

Beep Beep

Startled he looks to the road where a black low sports car pull over. The passenger window rolls down and he leans to see who it belongs to.

“Hey, pretty boy.” You greet him with a grin. “Need a ride?”

“I- Hm- Yes!” Stumbling over his words, he enters the vehicle.

“Are you ok?” You chuckle as he observes the luxurious inside with widen eyes.

“Yeah, I just…” Gulping he turns to you. “You have a really nice car.”

“Thank you.” You bow. “Now put that seatbelt on, we don’t want any bad thing to happen to you.”

“Oh, right.” He follows your request as you take the car off the parking mode. “Wait, what bad thing-”

You don’t let him finish the sentence stepping on the gas, gluing him to the seat. His heart beats like crazy but the adrenaline running through his veins hope this ride never comes to an end. But it does and soon enough you are parking the car in front of a restaurant as fancy as your car.

Getting out, you walk around and open the door for him that is still trying to put himself together after the crazy ride.

“You coming?” You chuckle holding a hand to help him out.

Slowly taking your hand, he gets out of the car and takes a look at you from top to bottom, jaw dropping at the view.

“Do I look ok?” Tilting your head you adjust the fur coat over your shoulders.

“Ok?” He gulps, looking at himself before back at you. “I look ok. You look amazing…”

“Oh c’mon.” You playfully tap his shoulder. “But I must say, as good as you look in leather, I really like seeing you in casual clothing.”

Unable to stop a shy smile on his face, he closes the door and takes the arm you’ve opened for him. Eyes glued on you, he doesn’t even properly analyse the restaurant before you’re about to head inside, stopping you in the front step.

“Wait,” you can sense the nervousness on his voice, “this si where we’re having dinner?”

“That was the plan.” You look at him trying to understand what’s going through his mind. “Unless, you don’t want to.”

“Well, it’s just…” He trails off, looking around.

“What is it?” You turn your body towards him, gently caressing his arm.

“I…” Taking a deep breath he looks down. “I don’t think I belong here. Not when I look like this…”

“Hey,” with your hand you tilt his chin up to look at you, “we can go somewhere else if you want.”

“No, I mean, you probably made a reservation and everything, I just wish you’d told me so I’d dress up more…” His voice slowly disappears by the end of the sentence.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to be yourself, not to put on a mask just because we were going to a certain place.” You explain. “I told you, I want to get to know the real you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you start to feel like you’re screwing things up already. But you can’t bring yourself to accept a defeat, you turn this around.

“Ok, come with me.” You take his hand and start walking away from the fancy restaurant.

“Wait, where are we going?” He follows, confused.

“Somewhere else.” You smile back before checking the road so you can cross it.

“But what about your reservation?” He asks matching your steps to the other side.

“Screw that.” You stop making him almost bump into you. “Do you like burgers?”

“Hm?” He lifts his brow, confused with your question but you keep awaiting his answer. “Well, yes.”

“Perfect.” Pulling him again you enter a modest dinner and find a table.

“W-what are we doing here?” He looks around at the half empty place as he sits down.

“We’re having dinner.” You smile, grabbing the menu. “Does this feel more comfortable?”

“Well, yeah… But you-” He tries to debate but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about me ok?” You take his hand over the table. “I honestly don’t care where we are, as long as I’m with you. Now take a look at this delicious menu!”

Smiling he picks up a menu and eventually the waiter comes over to take your order. The evening is spent talking, laughing and sharing embarrassing stories over fast food and fizzy drinks, contrasting with fine dinning and expensive wine you had in mind. But it is true that none of that matters when you’re finally sitting in front of him outside the strip club walls.

Both wish for the night to never end but truth is all good things do and you drive him back to where you picked him up.

“I hope you didn’t regret coming.” You glance at him after putting the car on park.

“I didn’t.” He confirms looking back at you. “Thank you for tonight and sorry for ruining your plans.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Gently you take his hand. “I had a lot fun. I’d really like to do this again sometime, if you want to, of course.”

“I’d like that.” He nods with a smile.

For a few seconds you just sit in silence looking into each others eyes, but there’s no awkwardness, simply comfort.

“I should go.” He finally announces.

“Of course.” You sigh.

All you want to do is kiss him and ask him to go to your place instead so you can show him all the things you’ve been fantasising for months. But you can’t. You want him to know this isn’t just about sex, you really do like him and therefore you should take things slow and-

Your thoughts are interrupted when he leans over and kisses your cheek.

“See you around, Y/N.” Bitting his lip he turns to the other side to open the door.

“Definitely, TY.” You’re barely able to reply, still startled by his act.

“It’s Taeyong.” He corrects you.

“Taeyong.” You repeat with a smile. “Goodnight, Taeyong.”

He closes the door and you watch him skip his way home before turning the car back on and driving away. You really feel like this could be the start of something real, something good.

Taeyong enters his house and melts down to the floor, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears. Even if he wanted to he wouldn’t be able to explain what you’re doing to him. This is the happiest he’s been in a long time and he wants to explore that feeling, but he’s still scared.

The next week brought a second date, and then a third, a forth and a fifth. The more you knew about him the more you got to see the beautiful person he is, inside and out, and you were sure you made the right decision on never giving up on asking him out.

The more he opens up to you, the more he feels he can trust again, his past trauma almost seems to fade into the background.

“You seem really close to your parents.” Taeyong comments after you share a funny story at a family gathering as you sit on the hood of your car by the beach on your sixth date.

“I am.” You smile gazing the waves under the moonlight. “I mean, they trusted and invested in me when my idea seemed so small and without a future. I now I’m a successful business owner. I owe everything to them.”

“That’s nice…” You notice he’s gone a little quiet.

“What about you?” Turning to him you try to be careful with your words. “You never talk about your family.”

“Well I…” He starts bitting his nail and you know him enough to understand the topic his making him nervous.

“You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.” Gently you caress his back.

“It’s just that I never really had a family.” He sighs. “My parents abandoned me when I was a newborn. I kept bouncing from foster home to foster home. Nobody really understood me you know?”

Nodding you let him know you’re listening, letting him open up at his own pace.

“I always dreamed of becoming a dancer and the kids at the orphanage kept teasing me whenever they caught me dancing in my room or somewhere I thought I was alone. And then I met Johnny and he took me to Neo City, where he said he danced for a living. Obviously I didn’t have money to go to an academy so that seemed like a good step to take to pursue my dream. I know it’s silly,” he chuckles, “but at least I can do what I love. When Mr Moon saw me on the stage he offered me a job and, well, the rest is history.”

“I’m so proud of you for never giving up on your dreams.” You motivate him. “I know you can climb higher if you want to.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” He’s still cautious about your encouragement.

“I mean it. Channing Tatum was once a stripper too and look at him now!” You nudge his arm wiggling your brows.

“Nobody ever compared me to him.” Taeyong chuckles.

“See? It’s never too late for anything.”

Suddenly it starts raining heavily and you two run back into the car, laughing at how wet you got in a matter of seconds.

“We should go dry up.” You suggest as the laughter dies off. “My place is not far, but I can take you home instead.”

“It’s ok, we can go to your place.” You widen your eyes at his easy response.

“Are you sure?” You have to ask. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I’m sure.” He assures you with a smile. “Besides, I always wanted to see where a woman like you lives at, considering your ride.”

“Well, let’s go take a look then.”

You drive back and take him to your twenty seventh floor apartment. As he enters, he’s surprised with the place. For someone who obviously has a pay check way above average the place is not huge. Minimalistic decoration, not a lot of color, fancy yet simple. But the view…

Taeyong approaches your living room window and admires the beautiful city that seems so small and insignificant below him.

“That’s why I bought it.” You walk to him and hand him a towel. “When I saw this view I couldn’t let it go.”

“It’s so beautiful.” He comments as he wipes his hair.

“Do you want to take a shower?” You offer. “I’m sure I can find some clothes for you and put yours in the dryer.”

“Oh, that’s ok, I don’t want to bother.” He waves his hands.

“It’s really no bother, I just don’t want you to get sick.” You take your own towel and wrap it around his back.

“O-ok then.” He ends up accepting. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You guide him and close the door as he takes off his wet clothes. As he showers, you take his and your own to the dryer and put on a robe.

When he walks out wearing sweatshirt and pijama pants you borrowed him he finds you in the kitchen.

“I made us some tea to warm up.” You offer him a cup putting yours in the counter. “I think the clothes are done.”

Leaving to go pick them, Taeyong takes a sip as he waits your return.

“Here you go.” You place his folded clothes on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, I put some scented sheets on the dryer to make them smell good-”

“Why are you doing all this?” He quickly asks, startling you.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Taking me out, being so nice… And you never once tried to kiss me.” He looks down. “You told me you liked me. Did you change your mind?”

“Why would I change my mind?” You walk towards where he’s sitting on the counter. “Taeyong, you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I said I like you before and I can tell you I like you even more now. The reason I didn’t kiss you yet is because I don’t want to force you to do anything. I’m just waiting for you to like me back-”

You’re interrupted when his smooth lips make their way to yours. It’s just a few seconds before he leans back and you blink taking in what just happened.

“I’ve always liked you back.” He whispers. “I just wanted to know if I could trust you with my heart.”

“You can trust me, Taeyong.” You caress his cheek looking straight into his eyes. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Thank you.”

He kisses you again, this time with passion without holding back. And this time you kiss him back, your hands on his cheeks pulling him closer. Hesitantly his hands also find you, running down your back to your waist. Then he moves them to the front grabbing the strap on your robe to pull it open.

“Wait…” You stop him. “We don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” He bluntly asks.

“No.” You step back. “If anything, I want to make love with you, Taeyong. But only if that’s what you want, too.”

“I do.” He smiles at your correction.

“Are you sure?” You insist.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Come with me.” Taking his hand you lead him further inside the house.

“Where are we going?” He almost doesn’t care at how excited he is.

“To the bedroom.” You announce as you open the door. “If we’re doing this, I want to do it properly.”

Closing the distance once again he kisses you and you two stumble to the bed. You push him down to your bed where he adjusts to lay his head on your pillow, waiting for you to join him. But you have other plans.

“All this time I’ve watched you strip for me.” You stand at the end of the bed with a smirk. “This time, let me give you a show.”

Slowly you descend your hand down your chest to grab that strap he tried undo earlier. Biting his lip, Taeyong watches you gently pull on it, but before the front opens you turn around. You hear him groan at the tease, only encouraging you to continue.

Swaying your hips, even if there’s no music, you let the robe easily fall down your shoulders revealing your naked back. Looking back you see him gulp excited to see more. And so you give him more, letting the piece of clothing descend all the way to the ground, leaving you only in a sensual pink thong.

Finally you turn back around revealing your bare breasts that make his jaw drop. You then climb on the bed, crawling your way to hover him.

“Not bad for the first time?” You ask.

“Hm…” He pretends to debate it in his head making you tap his chest. “It wasn’t bad! But I can teach you a few things, if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

But for now you take his mouth instead. Your hands make their way to the hem of the sweatshirt he’s still wearing and drag It off his body. You start kissing down his neck  and into that smooth chest you’ve been dreaming to feel as you please, without fearing a bodyguard from the club comes to stop your party.

Reaching the hem of the pants he’s wearing, you look up to get one more sign that this is ok and by the way he nods biting his lip you get your answer. Taeyong lifts his hips to help you remove the last piece of clothing on his body and reveal the only place you hasn’t seen and been dying to.

Licking your lips you settle between his legs admiring his dick. You’ve imagined how it looked like more times than you’ll bring yourself to admit. But finally seeing it in front of you pushes everything you ever thought of to the side.

You start by taking a long lick from the base to the tip where you can taste the pre-cum oozing out. You look up as you hear small whines coming from his mouth and you are presented with an adorable pleasure face of someone who’s trying to hold themselves back.

Inch by inch you take his cock into your mouth, twirling your tongue around as you listen to him slowly letting go, his whines turning into moans that echo around the room. You bob your head up and down feeling him throb inside your mouth.

When you feel him hard and ready, you kiss your way back up his torso to your mouth, straddling his hips. You two moan into the kiss when you rub your wet underwear over his length.

“Condom-” Taeyong murmurs between kisses. “My wallet-”

“Don’t worry,” you reach into your bedside table and grab one, “I got it.”

Rolling down the rubber on his delicious cock, you take the moment to get the last piece of clothing off your body before aligning his dick with your hole. Again you search his face for acceptance and he gives you pleading look as he grasps your thighs in despair.

Finally you let yourself go down on his lap and be filled by his length. Moaning you throw your head back as you adjust to his size. But soon enough you start bouncing up and down his dick, feeling every inch move in and out of your body.

The sounds leaving his mouth encourage you to keep moving faster and you move his hands from your thighs to your breast that he instantly starts massaging, increasing your pleasure. Your dreamt about this moment for so long that it almost feels unreal that it’s finally happening.

Leaning forward you take his mouth again and a sloppy kiss, filled with love and passion. You can feel his hips move up to meet your thrusts, hungry for release.

Taeyong’s hands move from your breasts to your waist and in a quick move he flips your bodies around, leaving him on top. You yelp when he pushes your thigh up against your torso, changing the angle and making him reach places inside you you’ve never known was possible.

You can feel your orgasm fast approaching and by the way his movements starts getting faster and messier you know he’s close too. You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him to lay closer to you and he kisses you again as you two let go, the ultimate pleasure making your bodies tremble in satisfaction, finally being united as one.

You stay just like that for a few minutes, your hands slowly moving up and down his back as you place gentle kisses on his shoulder, his smiley face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. How you wish you could stay in this sweaty bliss forever. But as he goes soft inside you, that tingling feeling on your core transform from pleasure into something else.

“Hey,” you roll your bodies to the side giving him a kiss on his forehead, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

As you leave the room the smile on his face fades, all his insecurities coming back. Maybe now you got what you wanted and you’ll be different towards him. Maybe he should just take this opportunity and go before you send him away.

Getting up, he makes his way to the living room, throwing the condom in the trash before picking up his clothes and getting dressed.

In the mean time you come back to the bedroom and encounter an empty bed.

“Taeyong?” You search around the house until you find him zipping up his pants. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” He says picking up his shirt.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You furrow your brows taking a step closer.

“No, I just…” He sighs. “I just need to go.”

“Oh… I really wish you could stay, but if you need to go I can take you wherever you want.” You turn around to go get dressed too.

“You want me to stay?” You stop when he speaks up again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Turning back around you approach him and caress his cheek, showing him you’re being truthful. “Let’s do the following: I’m gonna go back to bed and you’ll take off those clothes again and join me, we’ll fall asleep in each others arms, then tomorrow I’ll make us breakfast and then we can do whatever your want, go for a walk, make some popcorn and watch a movie, or just stay in bed and be lazy, you choose.”

“I-I’d love that.” He whispers the smiling coming back to his face.

You make your way back to the bedroom and lay down, arms open to welcome him. Once his clothes are back on the couch he takes the place next to you cuddling his head in your chest as his arms go around your body.

All Taeyong ever wanted was to be loved and now in your embrace he finally feels like that can happen.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nc-teen​​ ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @yutahoes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @dimplehyunn​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @iknowyuno​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @bebskyy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ne0cultur3technology​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nurenciye​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @luvjeongjaehyun​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nohyuckieduckie​​​​ @booyouwhore17​​​ @jenoxygen​​​

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz @jaehyunsprincess

[sakuradeservedbetter91]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Hi, Anon!!! What a lovely surprise to see this 🥹

After much deliberation—here are five of my favorite fics plus honorable mentions because anyone who knows me knows I hate deciding 😂

1. Red Ribbon of Fate—T, Shisaku, complete, “Shisui and Sakura's love story begins with a red ribbon.”

This one I had so much fun writing because it was just based off the silly idea that Shisui’s hair gets too long, and he holds his hair back from his eyes with a red ribbon. This idea was formed in the Sakura Haruno server, and it just was so sweet and I loved every second of it 🥰

2. Stealing His Shirt Has Never Felt So Good—E, KankuSaku, complete, “Sakura keeps her boyfriend's shirt before he leaves to train. Boyfriend comes back, she's a bit of a brat, and he punishes her with a ton of orgasms.”

I have no explanation for this fic except for the fact that I saw some amazing horny art of Kankuro, proceeded to obsess over said art and write this fic for 9 months, and well, yeah. Here we are 😂

3. Not Yet—E, KakaSaku complete, “Sakura appreciates Kakashi wanting to properly woo her, but they’re together. She’s tired of waiting. And now, she’s going to go get her man to fuck her.”

This was actually my first smut I wrote for KakaSaku, and I remember writing this and screaming as I wrote because it was so filthy. But it was a good time, and damn, I need to write more of them agains soon 👀

4. fantasies can come true—E, AsuIno, complete, “Ino successfully seduces her former teacher, and she may be in for more than she bargained for, not that she'd ever complain.”

I’d been telling myself forever that I’d write a fic for these two, and then I finally did it, and it was so fun! Definitely am going to write more for them, and also the other ships for Ino I recently realized were super fun 🥰

5. oh captain—E, ShiSaku, complete, “Sakura and Shisui avoid their duties aboard ship to have a little rendezvous below deck.”

This is one of my more recent ShiSaku fics i did for ShiSaku week in June this year, and I had so much fun with the prompt, because it was pirates and of course I had to make it sexy. I also just really loved every other prompt I did for the week (I did one for every day bc I am crazy), and I just love writing this pair so much 🥹🥰

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

hey cowboy with that look in your eyes—E, ShiSaku, WIP, sexy, smutty pirates which I’ve been brain rotting over for weeks

the bird and the worm—E, KakaSaku, complete, CRACK, literally was challenged by Tipsy to use some bad smut words in smut and so I did 🤣

[imaginespazzi]

stated it will never not tickle me that you give a preamble about how much you don't like the chapter before dropping the most earth shattering amazing chapter ever.

I mean, don't get too cocky I have multiple bones to pick with you, but it was really good ok?!

Before I dive in here, I wanna wish you an extremely amazing vacation! As an Italian American I want to warn you that Italian girls are incredible sexy and if that other person you were fucking with is still being fickle, you should def bang some Italian chick, and get some inspiration for writing smut because you are currently EDGING US TO DEATH.

August 2025

Wow it just occurred to me that in this universe Azzi went back for her 5th year, so at the time of the proposal Azzi is 22 and still planning on spending another year at UConn? Paige what are you doing.

"She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises."

By excited chatter do you mean women yelling PAIGE I LOVE YOU and screaming and throwing their panties at her?

No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

gut punch for us PaigeWithLotsOfLesbianRings-sexuals

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

ok this may be out of pocket but I think Paige and Tea would make a really hot couple. I mean if Azzi left her for you Nivi, and that is the only reason P would be single ok?

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

you loooove writing heartbreaking scenes that take place in the back parking lot of a bar where they talk about pretending huh? “Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

well now I have to go commit myself to a psychiatric hospital because I am crying while reading a fanfic about a real life couple who are on the university of Connecticut women's basketball team. Great!

if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world

Annnnd Paige's impending panic attack in the present day story is going to be about…

April 2033

“you look phenomenal.”

ok after I read this line my inner monologue was literally "wow big word Paige", so the next line you wrote is technically plagiarism

“Foreplaying,”

ok I loved this cause it was finally a reference to something sexual between them. Up until now its technically been a chapter of the book of Mormon.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

so at this point Paige just wakes up, gets ready for the day, goes to Azzi's for the entire day, then gets home and immediately goes to sleep?

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

def not in the Book of Mormon anymore Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

this line is line is extremely Paige accurate

April 2029

“she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

wow stab and twist

Ok honestly justice for Olivia, girl deserves to be fucking furious.

"How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

oh ok, im crying again

April 2033

Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates.

ok mystics game reference

“and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,”

ok in this Universe is it not canon that most womens basketball fans know these two are a couple? Like is it common knowledge to these other players that they are non-platonic or is it a pre-leak reality? “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

ok I can just hear this in a French accent and Paige just making the most disgusted American face possible “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

This proves Paige is no rizzler at all, because a rizzler would know that a woman does not want a sugary frozen blended drink at a club “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive

oh, ok, so now you have me feeling sympathy for this French fry? You are the QUEEN of writing 'the other woman'

It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

NEVER BEEN FURTHER FROM THE BOOK OF MORMON

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

I AM SO SCARED RIGHT NOW

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

wow Paige, weird time to be all domestic n shit

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

OMG Azzi showing uninhibited emotion this is crazy

“we hooked up a couple of times,”

thats it?! wow Clem has no game, I am proud to be an American - where at least i know im freeeeee

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

oh now im crying from my eyes AND my vagina. But most of all I'm MAD- MAD at you for ending the chapter there, and not showing us the SEX, then going at least two weeks without a chapter - EDGING US TO DEATH. 🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻🤱🏻

Ahahaha tbf I'm a bad judge of my own writing because reading it lowkey makes me die the first time 😭

Well as much as I can confirm that Italian women are in fact stunning, I am a) on vacation with my family which includes my strict-ish parents and b) my situationship is in a pretty good place right now

That is in fact exactly what I mean by excited chapter

Listen if Azzi every leaves her for me, idc who that blonde decides to do at that point. Téa is drop dead gorgeous tho.

There are apparently some common tropes that I must write about these two i.e back of the bar heartbreak, phone calls...I have a formula

If it helps, in real life those two are being disgustingly domestic visiting each other's families and acting like an old married couple where one of them builds while the other appreciates the scene so...

LMAO same braincells fr so it's not actually plagiarism

BOOK OF MORMOM 😭😭😭

Yep that's a very apt description of Paige's day really.

Fun little tidbit that I named the character Clémence solely so I could make a clementine joke.

In GH Pazzi were firmly a secret the whole time

I enjoy writing the "other woman" as a woman who was wrongly "other-ed" if that makes sense?

Listen I think we should all clap for Azzi because girlie's taking some steps, baby ones fs, but STEPS!

I think you'll like next chapters babes ;)

[pentechnics]

Part 3: Assignment | Series Masterlist

Pairing: boss!Din Djarin x secretary!f reader

Rating: E, 18+ only

Chapter Content: office work environment, power dynamics, dom!Din, sexy phone times, hand kink, praise kink, vaginal fingering, nicknames/pet names, implied orgasm denial Please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: As always I'm so sorry to make y'all wait, but I hope you feel as though it was worth it! I'm still so excited about this story and can't wait to continue it for us all. Please drop me a line to tell me what you thought -- there is nothing more motivating than hearing from you all! Sending love to you all!

~~~~

“Well, that’s a change of pace. You’ve never taken anyone with you.” 

Din waved off the comment and returned his attention to the window beside Boba’s desk, which took up the entire wall and looked out to the bustling city below.  

“Have you told her yet?” 

“Our check-in is tomorrow. I’ll do it then.” 

Boba hummed and wrote a note. 

“Make sure you book those arrangements soon. The conference is in only a month.” 

Din nodded. 

“So what is it about this one? I’ve never seen you this…” 

He paused to vaguely gesture at Din, making him turn back. 

“... tolerable.” 

Din sighed and shook his head. 

“Oh, come on,” Boba pressed, a grin breaking out on his face. “She must be some kind of miracle worker.” 

Oh, you could work miracles, all right. A memory of you on your knees flashed in Din’s mind: your eyes wide, mouth stuffed to the brim with his cock, curious hands clawing at his thighs. 

Perfection. His fisted hand clenched tighter around the air. 

“She’s good at her job,” he said through gritted teeth. “Has no problem keeping up, gets along with everyone-”

“So that you don’t have to,” Boba cut him off with a chuckle. Din couldn’t help the small grin creeping onto his face. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, that’s good, then,” Boba turned back to his monitor. “She can help you actually network at this thing and get us some more diverse clients. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last time you went.” 

“Fett, for the millionth time,” Din sat up in his chair. “That guy punched me first.” 

Boba’s thunderous laughter bounced off the office walls. 

~~~~

Dinner consumed and dishes put away, you slipped under the covers of your bed and let out a sigh. 

Your muscles ached with exhaustion as they seeped into the plush comfort beneath them, the inevitable stress of the week finally showing itself. It was as though you were a puddle and the bed was a sponge, fully soaking you into its soft embrace. What you wouldn’t give for a back rub. 

You turned on your laptop and clicked onto some mindless television, setting it down beside you and letting the dialogue fill your brain with its static. You took a deep breath and sunk down against the headboard, attempting to regain some of the energy the day had drained out of you. 

The harsh vibrations of your phone had other plans.

You jumped at the sudden noise, a tingle of surprise emanating from your heart, and reached over to grab it from your nightstand with a grunt. 

An unknown number illuminated your screen. Damn telemarketers. Why in the world would they even be making phone calls at this time of night? You plopped it back onto the nightstand with a bit more force than necessary and tried once more to get comfortable. 

Moments later another vibration sounded, this time from a text. 

You sat up again and looked over at your phone, apprehensive. Telemarketers didn’t typically text, especially when a phone call was ignored. If that wasn’t who called you, who the hell could it have been?

You slowly unlocked your phone and opened the message feed, your eyes bulging out when you saw the singular gray bubble with the short – yet powerful – text:

Pick up, Cupcake.

The number called again. Your phone buzzed away in your hand while your mind flooded with questions. You’d never given anyone at work your personal number, how did Mr. Djarin get it? And why would he call you so late at night?

With a shaky breath, you pressed ‘accept.’

“... Hello?” 

“Surprise.”

You let out a little laugh as his deep, modulated voice sent a shiver through you. 

“How’d you get my number?”

“Yeah… I may or may not have snuck a peek at your file. Don’t tell HR.” 

That got a more genuine laugh out of you. You propped yourself onto your elbows and readjusted the phone against your ear. 

“I should get to look at your file, then,” you said. “It’s only fair.” 

“Be my guest. Nothing exciting in there, anyway.” 

Something about his tone sounded off. It was slightly strained and gruff, as if he were holding something heavy. “So…” you started, unsure of how to proceed. “What made you want to call me?” 

“Well… I wanted you to know something.” 

“Something that couldn’t wait until morning?” 

“Exactly.”

A shaky exhale made its way to your ears. Your confusion only grew. 

“What are you doing over there? You sound like you’re working out or something.”

“Ah… Let’s go with ‘or something,’” he chuckled. “Care to take another guess?” 

You shook your head. What was going on? What kind of game was he trying to play? 

“Um…” you trailed off, your mind going blank. 

“Let’s just say I can’t stop thinking about that pretty mouth of yours.” 

Your jaw dropped. Your thighs clenched together as more of his breathy sighs caressed your ear. 

He… he was touching himself. To the thought of you. 

Once the initial shock of it dissipated, a more sinister instinct began to boil within you. You smirked into the receiver while more labored breathing reached your ears. 

“Is that so?” you asked, putting extra texture onto your voice. 

“Wish you could see the proof.” 

“Convince me, then. Let me hear it.” 

“Filthy little thing.” he rasped. “Lay down and join me, and I just might.” 

Your eyes rolled back, your body immediately flipping over and sinking down into a lying position. 

“You’re lucky I was already in bed,” you said with a smile, your hand already grazing down your chest. 

He hummed. It was like sweet honey, making you let out a small gasp as your body filled with warmth. 

“You ready, sweetheart? You’re gonna do exactly as I say.” 

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed, slick already beginning to collect between your legs.  

“Good. Grab one of those tits for me.” 

You did as he said, wrapping your hand as far around it as you could and gently kneading the flesh with your fingers. You sighed and let yourself get lost in the feeling, the vague memory of his hand cupping them flashing through your mind.

“They’re so perfect,” he mumbled, “Need more time with them. Keep going, Cupcake.”  

You bit your lip and picked up the pace, humming into the phone. 

“Aw, are you wishing you could touch them?” 

“Watch it, Princess,” he hissed. “You won’t get more with that attitude.” 

Something about the prospect of him denying your pleasure turned you on all the more. A small whimper escaped your lips, making him snicker. 

“Rub that nipple.” 

You moved your finger up and slowly caressed the little nub, already hard and sensitive. You threw your head back and moaned as each stroke of it sent a jolt straight to your core. 

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Bet you’re already soaking for me.”

He was right. You could feel the pooling between your legs, no doubt soiling your panties. 

“Put me on speaker, honey. Want both hands on your tits. Now.”  

You let out a little hum and did as he said, setting the phone down beside your pillow and gripping yourself with both hands. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. “So good at listening.” 

His praise only served to make you wetter. You teased and flicked at your nipples, relishing in each ripple of pleasure that cascaded through you. 

“Lower now, touch those thighs for me.” 

Your hands snaked down the length of your torso, gently dragging your nails against your skin on their way, until you reached your thighs. 

“Claw at them.” 

You did. Shivers erupted through your nerves, making your back arch.

“Oh my god,” you breathed. 

“Yeah? Feeling good?” 

“So good,” you smiled. “I need more.” 

“Beg for it, then.”

More curses spilled from your lips while your hands continued to massage the skin of your thighs, slowly moving further in and up. 

“Please, sir,” you whined, not a single ounce of shame behind it. “Please give me more.” 

“That’s my girl,” you could hear the grin in his voice. “Go on. Rub that clit for me.” 

The relief and pleasure that threatened to drown you as your fingers finally made contact had you moaning out loud. 

“Fuck, you make such pretty sounds, Cupcake-” he cut himself off with deep noises of his own. “Get louder for me. Rub it faster.” 

As if his voice was the sole conductor of your actions, your body sang at its demand, crying out as your fingers worked themselves ragged. The wave was beginning to build below your belly, releasing a firm heat that wrapped around you like a snake and squeezed until your limbs began to flail. 

“Yes, fuck, just like that. Don’t stop.” 

“Fuck,” you shouted, back arching. “Fuck fuck fuck-” 

“Aw,” his tone was almost condescending. “Is it already too much for you, baby? You missing my hands? Poor thing.” 

His words had you gushing, despite the small bead of annoyance sprouting within you. 

“Now you need to fucking watch it,” you said through your heavy breathing. “I could just hang up on you.”

“Hehe, come on,” he cooed, “Don’t you wanna cum?” 

Your breath hitched. 

“I can tell you’re close, baby. Let me get you there.” 

You let out a grunt of frustration. He was right – even if you did hang up, you already had a taste of what it was like for him to be in control. You had never reached such a high on your own; just the once and you were already addicted to him. 

“Stop rubbing.” 

“What?” 

“Now.” 

Your fingers paused. You heaved breath after breath, your racing heart threatening to burst from your chest. Like you were forced to hold in a sneeze, your body was teetering on the edge. 

“Why?” your voice cracked. “I was so close-” 

“I said this already, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. Now stick those fingers inside, nice and slow.” 

The combination of your body’s needs with your brain’s annoyance was deadly; you were clawing at the bed with your free hand, your breath coming in heaves as the other followed his command. You were coating the bed with your slick at this point, evident by the cold, damp patch coming into contact with your thigh. 

You sighed. Your fingers were so small compared to his, only able to go so deep and stretch so far. But you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“That’s it,” he rasped, voice growing less stable. “Faster.” 

You increased your speed, moan after moan spilling from your lips. The tension in your belly grew, blooming to life and making your whole body curl in. Sweat began to break out on your forehead.

“Din,” you started, “Please, I can’t-” 

You gasped and stopped in your tracks. You hadn’t meant to use his name. The silence that followed was tortuous; part of you was worried he would be angry, maybe even hang up on you. Would he actually do that, you asked yourself. It was hard to say. 

You were about to break the painful lull with an apology when you heard a feral moan rip from his throat. 

“Say my name again, baby. Say it while you’re rubbing that fucking clit.” 

You whimpered as you returned your attention to your clit, now in need of restimulating. 

Luckily, his encouragement was even more intense than before and had your high returning in no time. You bit down hard on your lip as each of his shaky gasps and harsh commands sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Din,” you breathed. 

“Yes.” 

“Din.” 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

“Din, it’s coming,” you all but yelled.  

“YES, do it, Cupcake, fucking cum for me.” 

His voice was almost animalistic, his growling demand being the final straw that sent you careening into a supernova of an orgasm: loud, explosive, all-encompassing. Your throat felt more hoarse with each shout of pleasure he dragged out of you. 

He wasn’t too far behind, labored grunts turning into deep, symphonic moans that you were sure would be the end of you. They ricocheted through your ears, filtered through the phone which made them somehow sound even sexier.  

You thought back to that day in the office to picture how he might be looking while he came: the scrunched up eyes with his head thrown back, slacked jaw, and bounce of his chest with heavy panting. 

Simply beautiful. You wished you could see him now. 

You squirmed as the last remnants of your orgasm petered out, his breathing calming down with yours. He released a throaty chuckle. 

“Such a good girl.” 

Oh. 

Shit. 

Oh, shit.

Every inch of you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A fresh wave of slick poured out of you as you slowly turned your head to face the phone. Your ears tingled, your fingers gripping anything they could reach. It was like someone had poured ice down your back then dunked you into a hot tub. Your mind felt fuzzy as it replayed those two words over and over. 

You wanted– no, needed to hear them again. 

“W-... what was that?” 

“Hm? Did you like it?” 

You bit down a ‘yes.’ Part of you didn’t want to admit it yet your body began to writhe in protest, the itch now present in your brain begging to be scratched, like a pesky bug bite you were meant to leave alone. 

But temptation won you over in the end. 

“... Maybe.” 

He chortled. You could hear the snarky smirk within it, and scowled in response. 

“Ask nicely, and maybe I’ll say it again.”  

You humphed and fully turned to lie on your side. 

“Meanie.” 

“Well, now you’re not being very good, are you?” 

“Oh, hush,” you said through a giggle. “I’ve just never… heard that before.” 

Talking this much during sex was something only one past partner of yours had been into. He was the first one to actually use dirty talk towards you, though it was leagues milder compared to anything Din had been saying. 

“No one’s told you that?” 

He sounded surprised, almost upset. You chewed on your lip in lieu of answering, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Did you want them to?” 

You gave a quiet hum, your nerves still unwilling to let you admit to it out loud. Evidently, that was enough for him.

“Well,” he started, voice deliciously low and cloaked in silk, “I guess we have lost time to make up for…”  

Your brows perked upward as you waited for him to go on. 

“... Because you’ve been a Very. Good. Girl.” 

The way he accentuated the last three words – gravely, dry, blissfully slow – would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing. You couldn’t help whimpering as your head hit the pillow once more, your body drowning in a rush of adrenaline and cool pleasure. 

You were a withering leaf clinging to the branch with all you had, and Mr. Djarin’s husky, slightly staticy voice through the phone was the gust of wind that sent you floating down to the ground. 

Your breathy ‘fuck’ was muffled by the pillow, but made him hum nonetheless. 

~~~~

Din was typing up an email when your soft knocking reached his ears. Your grinning face made multiple waves of sensation pulse through him: excitement, desire, curiosity. 

And something else. Something… gentler. It made him let out a sigh, like he was relaxing for the first time that day. 

“Ready for our check-in?” you asked, pad and pen in hand. 

Din nodded and waved you in. He finished up his email as you shut the door and took a seat. He let out a breath as he folded his arms before him, taking in your visage. 

“How’s your day going?” 

“Good,” you said, brows quirking up. “And yours?” 

He shrugged.

“Better now.” 

Watching your eyes widen and your lips disappear made his throat dry out. He drummed his fingers on his desk, willing his eyes to move up from your cute little mouth to no avail. Damn, he wanted to bite it.  

“So,” he cleared his throat and glanced at the paper beside his keyboard. “I only have a few things to discuss with you today.” 

In his scribbly writing, he’d written a few small, almost illegible bullet points. He squinted at the paper in an attempt to make out the words. 

“First thing, have we heard back about the Sanderson account?” 

You nodded and shuffled through your own notes, reciting them to him. Ever impressed at your ability to stay so organized, Din hung onto every word, the soft inflection of your voice like a sweet kiss to his ears. 

He couldn’t help the divergence of his thoughts: picturing your delicate words rising in pitch at the beck of his hand, forming pants and words of pleading instead of contractual details and concerns, moans of pleasure in place of last steps before getting a signature. He imagined your active mouth wrapping around his cock once more, which was now twitching in his pants at the very idea. 

“... so I scheduled a meeting with them next week to finalize.”

“Perfect, thank you,” he gave you a nod. 

You flipped through your notes once more to discuss the other tentative contracts of the month, each move of your lips capturing Din’s full attention. He hardly dared to look away, even as he took his own notes. 

You spoke of your work with a fluidity he’d only known himself to have. From the get-go it had thrown him off; you always had exact answers to his questions, knew every aspect of each account, and on occasion even gave some insight into improving a deal. It was magical to see. 

This meeting was no exception. When he dove into the nitty gritty details you followed with no hesitation, ready to meet any and all inquiry he might have. He almost didn’t want the work talk to end – he didn’t remember a time where he actually enjoyed discussing such boring things. 

But regardless, the final topic was sure to be the best one of the day. 

“Last item on the agenda,” he began, learning forward onto his desk. “There’s a little… assignment coming up next month. And I’d like for you to come with me.” 

“Assignment?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“A conference, actually. In Croatia.” 

“Croatia?!” you sat up so fast, Din worried you’d fall out of the chair. 

He chuckled and gave you the details of the trip: five days total, with three of them spent at the conference, during which Din would give a talk and in general try to increase the company’s clientele overseas. Your job would be to manage his calendar and keep track of things, as always, but also to help him make those connections. 

“Wait,” you started, brow scrunching up in thought. “If you’ve gone to this conference before, how come you haven’t already secured some foreign clients?” 

With a sigh, Din leaned back in his chair. He told the story of what happened last time he went, of overhearing a verbal confrontation and getting hit in an attempt to break it up. 

“It really wasn’t as big a scene as it seems. Some people just can’t handle being wrong. And apparently I’m not much of a ‘people person,’ meaning I wasn’t nice about telling him the hard truth.” Din said with a shrug, sass dripping from his tone. 

Your giggle set his soul aflame. 

“Well, don’t worry, Mr. Djarin,” you started, “I’ll make sure you don’t get yourself banned or injured.” 

“So you’re on board?” 

“Of course. No reason not to be. Plus, Croatia’s on my travel list.” 

“Is it now?” 

Din rested his chin into his palm, his other hand drumming on the desk. You nodded, a gentle grin pulling your cheeks up.  

“Where else do you want to go?” 

Your eyes lit up as you fully leaned into the tangent, mentioning multiple countries, including Greece, Morocco, and South Korea, among others. 

“That’s a pretty nice list,” Din said. 

“Yeah,” you laughed, “There’s a lot I want to see.” 

“Well then, all the more reason to bring you along. Gotta start checking those off.” 

Your smile could brighten the night sky. Your expression was so warm, so innocently golden, it had Din’s heart cartwheeling in his chest. It made him want to learn more about you, give you anything you wanted — as long as he’d get to see that again. 

He gulped. 

These sensations… It was as though he were being forced to breathe concrete instead of oxygen. Thick and heavy, it made his lungs sting. 

No one else had ever inspired anything like this from his heart. Yet here you were, doing it with just a smile. His breath quickened the more he dwelled on it; what did it mean? What was he supposed to do about it? 

He sat up in his chair and refocused on the topic at hand, trying with all his might to ignore the sudden clamminess of his palms.

~~~~

One month later, you were packing your suitcase in the evening glow of your room’s desk lamp. 

You were to be jetting off with Mr. Djarin directly after the following workday, and you couldn’t help the slight jitteriness of your movements. 

All month long he had been bringing up this trip, but besides the team-wide meetings about it, business seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind. 

Yes, every now and then he’d talk you through his presentation or give you information about other companies that would be there, but more than anything, he was a constant tease. 

Any chance he got he would wind and unwind your every nerve with a few mere words or touches of his hand, velvet promises of what was to come dripping from his lips at each turn. The past week had been the most brutal; he’d build you up and up at his desk, or in the supply closet, or even in the kitchen when the rest of your coworkers had already left for the night.

He’d do as little as whisper in your ear or as much as rub your clit through your panties – all while his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow because he knew, he knew how much you liked that – but not once did he finish the job. Nor did he grace your ears with your favorite words. 

You’d shriek into the empty space and plead for it, clawing at his arms and shoulders, tugging at his tie, staring into his golden brown eyes with desperation as they grinned back at you with satisfaction. He’d shake his head and grab hold of the back of your neck, forcing your squirming form to still at his command. 

‘Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you want. But the next time you cum will be right before I fuck you, Cupcake. Not. A moment. Sooner. Is that understood?’  

The memory alone was enough to make you quiver and nod to no one. The phantom touch of his hands crawled up and down your body, making your muscles fall slack and reduce to liquid. You groaned and flopped over your clothes. What the hell, Mr. Djarin. 

But even though you were sexually frustrated beyond belief, to his credit, he was right there with you; he didn’t let you finish him off a single time. He didn’t let you call him Din. He didn’t even let you touch his cock without at least his briefs to separate your skin from his. Ah, to see him in a crumbled state such as your own, how sweet it would be. You stole a glance at the new panties you bought specifically for this trip; he’d get his penance for making you wait this long. 

You wondered what he was doing right then as you recovered your composure and shoved a sweater into your suitcase with more force than was necessary. Was he also packing? Or was he pacing around, impatient with his own waiting game? Maybe something else entirely?

Now that you thought about it, you had no idea what that man did for fun. Who he was outside of that office. You’d been working for him for eight months, and even though you’d seen some of the most intimate sides of him, there was so much about him as a person that you just didn’t know. 

It seemed like he knew a lot about you. As you thought through the few casual conversations you shared with him, a noticeable pattern of him turning topics towards you began to make itself more apparent. Your travel list. Your favorite sweets. And most recently while making the travel arrangements, your preferred airplane seat. Why didn’t he talk more about himself? 

With a breath you stuffed a dress into the suitcase, making a mental promise to use this prime opportunity to peel back a layer or two from the mystery that was Din Djarin.

****

[kazosa]

Wildwood Sequel: Interlude

Summary: Jensen and the reader are in a soft, blissful part of their relationship before reality fully kicks in. They go back to Y|N’s house, with the touches she added with Jensen in mind, to slowly ease back into the swing of their lives. They have a lot to do before they go to Texas, like breaking the news to Y|N’s mother and brother. Jensen still has some secrets to reveal.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x female reader

Word count: 18429

Warnings: really covers the gammut... swearing, drinking, yelling, jealousy...

a/n: this is pure fiction in regards to the real life celebrities. They are merely a face-grab for characters of my creation.

Tags: @coffee-obsessed-writer   @leigh70  @sandlee44  @coldhearted93  @djs8891  @magssteenkamp  @babykalika2001  @ladysparkles78​  @supernatural3002

The dog days of summer were ending and it felt more like fall the morning when they left Wildwood. He’d taken care of the cabin the night before and even cleaned out the fireplace. It meant there would be no heat running in the cabin, but he and Y|N had found ways to stay warm. Going back to reality would be an adjustment to both of their lives and he was confident they would figure it out together.

Before Y|N got to the cabin, he’d been so out of sorts. He couldn’t make any sense about what to do about his situation. Then, as time passed, he was beginning to wonder if she would find him. When he finally realized it was her walking down his road, the relief set in. The giant, swirling abyss dissipated. She, somehow, always would show up when he needed her most. Sure, he’d given her a clue, but she showed up. She still cared.

He looked over at the passenger seat where she sat in his truck. She’d only gotten more beautiful as time had passed. He couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her and she’d caught him more than once. Y|N would smile a little, tuck her hair behind her ear and look down. When he would catch her watching him, he knew she still had some kind of feelings for him, too. Even if it was pure lust, or just pent-up years of desire, he would take it because he had been holding them in, too. He really couldn’t get enough of her.

They were basically driving into the sun, but it didn’t bother her too much. She had her head down, writing in the notebook she’d forced him to stop to buy. It was bright enough that she still wore sunglasses as she wrote and the sun gave her hair a halo. His angel. Once in a while, she would whisper two sides of a conversation, or other bits of dialog before putting the pen back to the paper to continue the flurry of writing. She went on like that for a couple hours before she lost some speed.

She turned yet another page in the notebook and wrote something at the top of the page before she finally gave him her attention again.

“Okay, we need to talk about some stuff. I need your opinion on things,” she said.

“God, finally,” he said. “You’ve been so quiet, except for whispering dialog, I thought you forgot me.”

“Oh honey, I could never forget about your fine self. Look at you, you sexy sonofabitch,” she said. She smirked when she saw how pink his ears got. “I was writing so I could get the scene out of my head so I could get to you.”

“Get to me?”

“I’m starting a new book in a series I do and I want your input,” she explained.

“I thought you were never going to use me as your smut muse?” he said. “I think we have a pretty good story going.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” she said, “you really are adorable. Let me ask you this, have you read any good books lately?”

“Not lately, but yeah. It’s this guy, a lawman, who fell from grace, gets a job as sheriff in some backwoods area during prohibition, tries to take down bootleggers and other bad guys…”

“... encounters some weird shit in the woods and has an eye for the lady that runs the diner?” she finished for him.

“Yeah, you know the books?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, it hit him. “Are you telling me you’re Ross Black?”

You laughed, “Yeah. Honestly, I thought you knew. I did kind of make it obvious.” You waited as he thought it over. “It’s basically you and all of the cool western lawmen and broken lead characters. Dean, Clint, you, Longmire. Rolled ‘em all up to make Hobart Gibson. Hell, I even gave him your physical description.”

“Hold on,” he raised his index finger at you as he drove. “I need to process this.”

You patiently waited for him to think it all through.

“So, you’re Nova Scott, who, from what I can tell since I’m not allowed to read the books, is on par with Nicholas Sparks and Danielle Steel, and have published however many of those…”

“...about a dozen,” you answered.

“A handful have been made into major motion pictures. Not only am I not in any of those movies, I’m also not the muse. And yet, every single one had some big name in it and made a shitload of money.”

“Are you telling me you want to do a romance movie?”

“No. …I don’t know… maybe?”

“Well, what do you think of Whiskey Hollow and Bart Gibson?” you asked. You’d spent a lot of time and energy getting the character just right.

Jensen looked at you a moment, “He’s a total badass. I love how salty he is, but is soft for Lill.” He paused, “You ever gonna get them together?”

“Do you think they should?” you already had it in the plans but you wanted to hear his opinion.

“She’s obviously in love with Bart.”

“It’s obvious?”

“Every time Bart goes to the diner, Lill personally makes his favorite sandwich and gives him a cookie. If she didn’t love him…”

“... no cookie?” you grinned.

“No cookie,” he tipped his head, his eyes still on the road. “Sugar was precious in the depression. You don’t just slip random people a cookie.”

“Unless she’s in love?”

“Unless she’s in love.”

“Is that why you give me ring-pops, ‘cause you’re in love with me?”

He looked directly at you before switching back to the road and back to you again, “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Depends on your answer.”

“Have I given you more than one?”

“Jay, you don’t forget much. I know you remember.” There have been many over the years.

He sighed. “I knew it was a trap,” he muttered. “You already know I love you.”

You nodded, “I know that.”

“Is Bart going to make a move on Lill? Are you getting any movie options offers coming in?” he asked.

“Lillian isn’t going to make the first move, I can tell you that much. If he has any kind of warm fuzzies for her, he has to tell her. Cookies and ring-pops won’t cut it. They’re gestures, she wants to hear him say it.”

“He’s not going to say it just because she wants to hear it. If he’s going to tell her he’s in love with her, he’ll do it when he’s ready.”

“Nearly three decades isn’t enough time to work up the nerve?”

“I knew we weren’t talking about Bart and Lill anymore…” he let out a sound of annoyance.

“Who do you think Hobart and Lillian are, Jay?”

“We were only able to get together a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen you in person in over three years. If we, you and I, are going to be together, I want to do things the right way and that means taking things one step at a time, getting familiar with each other again.”

“Don’t I get a say in this? Relationships are give and take and I feel like I’m doing all the giving. I left my job to come find you. I know I don’t need the job, but that isn’t the point. That’s a burnt bridge.”

“Just like you can’t demand I tell you I’m in love with you. If I want to say it, I will when I’m ready. Individually, you and I have been through too much shit to not try to give us the best shot possible and that’s exactly what I want to do. Are you going to do the same or are you going to keep fucking pushing?”

“Knowitall,” you grumbled.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re the same way. You’re one of the smartest people I know, but you also know you’re smart and don’t leave room for other people’s opinions.”

“Even if they’re wrong?”

“See?” he raised his index finger and wagged it in your direction. “That right there. That’s why it’s an opinion. Just because it’s different from yours, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“Oh really? You sure were vocal when you thought I was wrong about things,” you countered.

“When?! Examples.”

“Every single guy I dated was either an asshole or a douchebag, as you were all too happy to point out.”

“But they were douchebags and assholes. Knew from the start Grant was a manchild freeloader.”

“That may be true, but in that case, your opinion was irrelevant because he was my choice. And not all of them were bad guys, they just weren’t a good match for me.”

“And that’s what makes them douchebags.”

“You married the one I told you was a stuck-up, snobby-assed bitch. What’s really got a bug up your ass, Jay? Seems like we both made dumb choices in the name of love.”

He went silent. You weren’t entirely sure if you’d really made him mad or not. He had both hands on the wheel and slightly tipped back, the expression on his face was changing from annoyed to resolve over and over again.

“Jesus, I can see you thinking in there. You're gonna say what’s on your mind or do you need to pull over and walk it off?” your tone was still snotty.

He clenched his jaw and you decided, maybe too late, to shut up and cool off, yourself, while you rode in silence. He needed to do the same, you supposed. You forgot that he liked to take time to think things through. You should have known not to push him so hard. He needed the time to consider all options and you were more in the moment and needing immediate action.

“Hey,” you wanted to apologize, but the truck began to slow down. He might have needed to walk it off after all. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t say anything, he only pulled over and stopped the truck, putting it in park. He got out and you watched as he walked around the front and came to your door.

He flung open your door, “I take it back.”

Confused, you asked, “Take what back?”

“When I said we shouldn’t try to be together because of our careers. When I said it wasn’t “our time” I was full of shit then and I knew it. I wanted you. I always wanted you. I knew that Christmas at my parents’ house that I didn’t want to let you go. When you told my mom we were just friends? I didn’t like it. All of those boyfriends you had were douchebags because they weren’t me. No one would ever love you, or treat you as well as me.”

He stepped on the running board, leaned in and unbuckled your seatbelt, then turned your knees toward him as he stepped down.

“I should never have let you get on that airplane. I knew I was in love with you then, just like I’m in love with you still.”

He took off his sunglasses and looked up at you in the truck.

Your hands went to his face and neck, touching him wherever you could reach.

“Promise me one thing?” he asked.

“Anything,” you whispered.

“Never be away more than a couple days,” he said.

You nodded.

“Honey, I need you to say it.”

You slid to the edge of the seat and out of the truck. Jensen kept his hands on you, helping you down to the ground, his arms around your waist.

“My sweet boy, I promise, never to be away more than a couple days,” you managed to say while looking into his beautiful green eyes.

The intensity that Jensen exuded could often be overwhelming or scary depending on the situation. He wasn’t one to throw away words. He said what he meant. He was in love with you. 

His forehead rested on yours as you stroked his head and neck. “I could never give my whole heart to someone because you had it, Jensen, my whole heart, since the day we met. I was so scared I would never see you again. I cried when we left the hotel, just like I did when I got on the airplane. I shouldn’t have left.”

If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly to his body, you might have started crying. As it was, you felt like you could barely breathe. Putting words to feelings you’d held down so firmly and for so long seemed to have robbed you of oxygen. It was amazing to finally be able to say it out loud and to the man you’d loved since he was a boy.

He tipped his head down and to the side, his lips meeting yours with subdued passion. The occasional car driving by reminded you both you were still in public. Jensen had been extremely private in his relationship with Danneel. Making out with him on the side of the road felt somewhat out of character. It wasn’t until the last car that went by and honked their horn that he decided to come up for air.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said.

“Jay,” you stopped him. He came back to you, his hand cupping your face. “I’m sorry for pushing too hard. I didn’t mean to upset you, that was the last thing I wanted. I just get hyper aware of what I want and get too focused on it.”

“Mhm,” he grumbled, “you’re forgiven.” He gave you a quick peck.

“Hey Jay, remember when we did the photobooth?” He nodded, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I was really glad to have you as a friend, but that’s also when you were more than a friend. No one has ever been good enough since then, because, whether I knew it or not, I was in love with you, too.”

“Now you’re just sucking up so you can see my half of the photo strip.”

“Please, can I see it? I didn’t even know you still had it,” you said. “I didn’t take you for that kind of sentimentality.”

He went to the back of the truck and hopped in with his usual athletic grace that still irritated the crap out of you. He barely put any effort into staying fit. Minimal cardio, minimal weight training, and he was good at everything. He went to the box you hadn’t even noticed he’d put on the truck. It was inside a bungee’d bin and he pulled out the box you’d seen at the cabin with “Nova” written on it. Sliding the box to the end, you were there to open the tailgate and join him when he sat down.

He opened the box for you to see all of the contents loose inside. Most of the letters that he kept were in their envelopes and only a few loose cards and pages. He’d kept a few things you’d given him, including a bottle of sand from the lake trip when you were kids, to the trinket you won at the arcade in Dallas. Something caught your eye at the bottom of the box, though.

“Are you kidding me right now?” you couldn’t believe your eyes. You immediately recognize the white and black material and black nylon straps.

“I guess it wasn’t so bad after all,” he shrugged.

“Now I know why you wouldn’t let me dig in the box at the cabin,” you said. “But why now? And how did you even sneak this out of my apartment? How did you find it?”

“When I was looking for stuff that belonged to fuckface to throw out. I had a moment of weakness. Look inside,” he said.

After you unzipped the main pouch, you looked inside to find a piece of folded paper. Opening it, you saw what might have been the first letter you ever wrote Jensen. You remembered the aquatic stationery that you’d been so happy to find. In the folds of the paper was the bottom half of the photo strip. The edges were worn and some of the edges of the pictures were damaged, but the important parts were still there.”

“I think you were laughing at some dumb face I was making. And that bottom one, that’s my favorite,” he said, shyly. “You still look at me like that, you know.”

It was the picture of your forehead on his that got you, the bottom picture. Your face had a happy smile, your hand on his chest next to his neck and your other arm around his shoulders. The look on his face and the body language of you both spoke volumes. You put the picture down and looked up at him, speechless.

“I thought about it… kissing you… really wished you had tried. I was too shy and scared of your dad to make a move,” he admitted.

You wiped your eyes, “Honestly, I wish I had too, but I was too scared and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing to even attempt it.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “but I was willing to find out, if you were.”

You couldn’t stop looking at the pictures. The top half was in your house and you’d seen them many times, but the bottom half was so different. There was an undeniable shift in the bottom. The top was just two kids having a good time. The bottom was two kids having a very intimate moment.

Jensen started putting things back in the box and gently took the photo strip from you. “Alright, let’s just pretend you didn’t see those.”

“Nope, too late. I already know the truth.”

“What’s that?”

You watched him put the box back in the bin and secure the bungee cords.

“Despite years of blatant denial, you are, in fact, a hopeless romantic, Jensen Ackles.”

He hopped down from the truck bed and stood directly in front of you, pushing your knees apart to stand closer. You locked your legs around him as your fingertips went under his shirt to caress his warm belly. His skin shuddered at your touch, his breath catching.

“Sweetheart… you tryin’a jump my bones on the side of the road?” he asked, not hating it.

“Maybe.”

“How long to your house?”

You eased up on him, but it was hard to not keep going.

“Not sure, but I think we’re at least four hours away, still,” you said.

“Grab on,” he said, then quickly added, “around my neck.”

You did as he asked, then he did the rest and carried you to the passenger side of the truck where he put you down. He did it like it was nothing, not even so much as a grunt. He took a moment to give your ass a smack before moving on to close the tailgate and get back inside the cab of the truck.

When you were back on the highway, your mind went back to Bart and Lill.

“Jay…I do need to talk to you about Whiskey Hollow and…” you trailed off. It wasn’t like one of your books hadn’t been turned into a movie before, but this time was different.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“You do like the series, right? And the characters? I mean, I did write Bart for you, specifically…” you really needed the validation from him.

“Yeah, I really do. Bart isn’t strictly me or any of the people you mentioned, but an amalgamation. I like him a lot. A good man who does the best he can and isn’t perfect. Bart’s backstory is good and it definitely explains why he is the way he is.” He gave you a pointed look, “I’d tell you if I thought it was shit.”

“Okay, good. Please always give me your honest opinion… when it’s work-related.”

“And if it’s not work-related?”

You smiled, “I always look good in whatever outfit I choose.”

He nodded once, “That won’t be a problem.”

“So… my agent was begging me to write a script for Whiskey Hollow rather than have another writer do it. She wants to shop it around to studios and see if anyone will pick it up. But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve never written a script before and have no clue about what’s important. I want to do a good job and I need your help. I don’t want to embarrass myself, especially on my own story.”

“You won’t embarrass yourself,” he said. “Alright, hit me. How can I help?”

Over the next two hours, you wrote as fast as your brain and hands would allow. Thankfully, you’d adapted a shorthand method that made getting your flow of words out quickly without losing anything. Eventually, Jensen needed to pull over for gas and you both took the opportunity to use the restroom and grab some food for the ride, especially since you were sure there wasn’t anything to eat at your house.

“What’s all this?” he pointed at your purchases on the counter.

“Milk. Bread. Jelly. Peanut butter. Chips,” you said. “Pretty standard stuff.”

“How are we going to make sandwiches in the truck?”

“Very carefully.”

You pointed him in the direction of the paper plates and plastic cutlery to complete your grocery shopping. You paid for all of the food and gas for this stop and were back on the road fairly quickly after. Jensen held out the keys to you and told you he needed a nap. Gladly, you took the keys and got comfy in his truck. It never failed to amaze you at how quickly he could shut off his brain and go to sleep. Before he was totally out, you let him know you needed to make some calls and he gave you a thumbs-up without opening his eyes.

When you got your earbuds in, you pushed a button on your phone, then said, “Call Jen.”

She picked up on the third ring.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“I told you,” you spoke quietly, “I needed to find Jensen.”

“That was almost a month ago, Y|N.”

“It took a minute.”

“Does that mean you found his fine ass?” Jen asked.

“I sure did,” you still kept your voice low. “About three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago?! So you found him almost right away? What the hell were you doing? Were you doing him?”

“Shh! Yes, we were making up for lost time. I’m with him right now, in his truck, and we’re going to my house. I know I don’t have to remind you, but please keep this quiet. We’re going to need to go to Texas at some point.”

Jen was only just beginning to process what you’d told her. “How was the sex? Was he any good? Did you scream?”

“Jen!”

“I can hear your friend,” Jensen said, quietly.

“Oh my god, he can hear you,” the blush quickly rose to your cheeks.

“No, go ahead, tell her. I want to hear your answer,” he paused. “Tell the truth,” he cracked open an eye.

“I’ll talk to you later, Jen,” you were mortified. “I need to call Janice, too.”

You disconnected the call and turned down the volume in your earbuds. You were about to call your manager, but Jensen was curious.

“Well?” he asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” you countered, hoping he would drop it.

“I can take constructive criticism,” he said.

You decided to just say it. “You are the only person to crack the code. A few have gotten close, but you… are masterful,” you couldn’t bear to look at him.

He gave a sleepy little fist pump and grin before crossing his arms over his chest again and closing his eyes. You waited a good twenty minutes before you attempted to call your agent, Jan. The two of you discussed the books you had going and what you’d been doing, then caught her up to the details about the script she wanted you to write.

“Sweetie,” she began, “you know I love that you have two secret identities, but you need to give me more to do. You have phenomenal numbers in BOTH fan bases. When will you let me get you on TV for some promotion? We really need an author reveal. Also, I have a big-wig on the hook for your script, really need you to get that to me as soon as you can, sweets.”

“I promise, I’m making progress. I bought the software. I have a consultant. I just need a few moments peace to crank the sucker out,” you liked Jan a lot, but there were times you wanted to kick her, not super, hard, but enough to leave a bruise.

“What would it take to get you out on a promotion circuit?”

“A miracle.” 

“Pretend I’m a magic genie. If we’re gonna do a reveal, let’s go big,” she said.

“I have conditions,” you said.

“Lay ‘em on me, sweetie. Genie Jan is ready,” she said.

“If you manage to sucker someone into buying the script… if the studio or producers give the green light… I will do TV with whomever is cast as Bart. I want it noted with emphasis that Jensen Ackles should be strongly considered for Bart. He is, after all, whom I was thinking of when writing Bart. I will do Seth Meyers with Jensen.”

“Jensen Ackles? Are you sure? Isn’t he kind of imploding right now? Aren’t they still looking for him?” Jan asked.

“He’s on my wishlist, Jan. He is the one who should play Bart,” you reiterated.

“Sweetie, I understand. I just want the best possible outcome.”

“Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be found soon. That woman’s story isn’t ringing true, either. I think she was just trying to scam money out of him.”

“And you want Seth Meyers? Why not one of the Jimmy’s?” she asked.

“I’m a fan and I dated a Jimmy, It didn’t go well. Besides, Seth is funny and the only late night show I’ll watch,” you explained.

“If I can get you on Seth’s show, you’ll do it and not back out?”

“My conditions are simple. I will do it, but it must be like that.”

“Alright, I can work with that,” she said.

You ended the call shortly after that and felt a lot better about things moving forward, not just with your career, but also with Jensen. When you did get home, you were going to look into that “hussy”, as Donna called her, and see what you could find out, maybe enlist the help of Shelley. You just wanted to ask the woman why she was targeting Jensen. You drove on in silence thinking of all the things you wanted and needed to do when you got to the house. Before you knew it, you were driving 25 mph down the main drag of your hometown and Jensen stirred awake at the speed change.

As you got closer to your old apartment, you looked up and noted the light was on in the living room.

“Mom is still up,” you looked at the clock, 10:09 PM.

Jensen looked up at the windows as you stopped for the stop light. “It’s weird not going to your apartment.”

“I know. Before today, now, it didn’t bother me, but it does feel strange.” The light changed and you drove on toward the bridge. “I hope you like my house, though. I did a couple things with you in mind.”

“You did?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s for me, too, but I thought you’d find them appealing,” you said.

“You didn’t have to do that. Your apartment was great though,” he said. Curiosity got the better of him, “What things?”

“I’ll give you a tour when we get there,” you said, crossing the bridge that went over the river. “I’ve had to buy a lot of stuff just to maintain the land, it’s ridiculous, and I had to have out buildings built. I’m a proper adult.”

He snorted, “Do you use the equipment?”

Sometimes it was annoying how he could see through your bullshit so easily. “Sometimes. Shut up!” you laughed. “I hired a guy I went to school with to come out to mow and plow once a week and as needed. I use the mower to keep my trail growth down and the snowblower is hella cool.”

Jensen just stared at you as you turned onto your road.

“Stop looking at me like that, weirdo,” you pulled up to the gate and entered the, very particular to you and Jensen, code. You’d embraced your secret life, the one where you were a notable author with a hot and famous best friend, who had become your boyfriend. It was something like your own inside joke. If anyone had ever guessed how you were able to buy land and build a house, no one ever said anything to you. You found most people didn’t ask questions if they got paid well for their work and you were a generous tipper. Every little bit helps.

The gate came to life and rolled open, enhancing the anticipation. You really wanted him to like what you had created. When it opened and you pulled ahead and stopped for it to close before moving on. The driveway to your house was lit with small lights to lead the way. The house itself wasn’t visible from the road and you followed the driveway to the left and through the trees around a small hill. After the trees, the land opened up into a clearing where your house stood. Every time you drove through the trees and the house appeared, it struck you that the modern appearance of the home was so well complimented by its surroundings.

“Whoa. That’s… I don’t even know what…” Jensen sputtered.

“Good, though, right?” you were quite proud of your home.

“Yeah, I like it. I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”

You pulled around to the side where the garage doors were and parked in front of the middle door. When you hopped out and went to the hidden keypad by the door, Jensen crawled into the driver’s seat and pulled into the open garage space when the door fully opened. You went to the inside control panel to close the garage and turn on the lights.

The stark white interior was nearly blinding from driving in the dark for so long. Jensen had gotten out of the truck by then and was looking all around the inside of the garage. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the classic car in the third stall.

“What have we here?” he said, admiring the car.

He was about to cup his hands around his eyes to peek in the window when you said, “My dad’s car.”

Jensen immediately stood up straight without touching the car in the third stall. “Your dad’s?”

You nodded, “Mhm. I started looking for it before the pandemic. It was a bitch to do, but my aunt works in the treasurer’s office and hooked me up with the VIN. Made it a lot easier to track down.”

“Wait, this is his actual car?” You nodded. “How long was it gone? And what condition was it in when you got it?”

You sighed heavily. “It was in pretty bad shape. Dad sold it before I was even born. He loved it.” It was impossible to not be a little sad and a lot mad. You had put these details in letters you’d sent to Jensen in Austin. “She kept a lot more from you than I thought… I put all of this in the mail, Jay.” You tried to keep the anger out of your voice, but you knew it seeped in. If anything, you understood why she did it. You and Jensen were so close, but it still made you mad since you both had tried so hard to stay platonic.

He stood silent for a few moments, “Alright. Can we go inside and talk about this?”

He grabbed the bags out of the truck and followed you inside. You led him through the laundry room and into the main house. You noticed he looked around to take everything in. The house itself wasn’t huge, but you’d also gotten creative with the design. Hidden spaces, secret doors, everything you’d ever wanted in a house when you were a kid. 

Jensen put the bags on the counter in the kitchen and started putting things away. You got out a couple plates and started making the two of you something to eat. Silently, you handed him a plate with a pb&j on it.

He sighed loudly, “I asked her if she – misplaced anything from you. She denied it. It wasn’t just her jealousy. It was the lying and manipulation that hurt the most. I’m ashamed to say that I started to believe it. There was a lot more I wasn’t even aware of.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “I asked what her relationship with Dan was,” he continued. “She insisted nothing was going on and that he was stalking her.”

“Did you believe her?”

“At that point, I didn’t know what was real and what was a lie. After that, I knew not to trust her word.”

“I wouldn’t believe a single word that comes out of her mouth in the future, either.” Jensen looked at you with an expression that told you he was done for the moment.

“Finish up and I’ll show you around the house,” you told him.

He took another bite and talked with his mouth full, “All I’m interested in is the bedroom.”

“Your mother will be shocked at your table manners, sir,” you said. “Also, you’re a perv.”

“Stop. You’re the perv. I was sweet and innocent until I met you,” he countered.

“So now it’s my fault you’re like this?”

“I said what I said,” he smirked, looking you over, his eyes resting on his favorite places.

You didn’t know what to say either to his words, or his scrutiny. “Alright then,” was all you could muster.

Jensen woke you up in the morning in the most pleasant way. Eventually, you both made use of your extra large, spa shower. You couldn’t help but stare at him. You stood in the shower and stretched as the hot water ran over your body. You could see the reflection of Jensen behind you at the 2nd separate shower. He was already looking at you like you were his next meal…again. You turned to face him and returned the gaze. He’d always been fit, but the muscle he’d put on for The Boys, and the work on the mountain had maintained it, was something to behold. He stood staring back at you as he washed his torso, a little, pleased smile on his face.

“You’re staring,” he noticed.

You rinsed your hair, “It’s like looking at a marble statue.” You stepped across the stall to where he stood, reaching out to trace the lines of the muscles on his arms, shoulders, and torso. “Are you going to keep these?”

He stepped backwards into the water to rinse the soap. Stepping forward again, he flexed a little, “You like ‘em?”

“I don’t mind ‘em. It’s kinda hot, but you’re just hot anyway,” you said. Your fingers traced the ‘V’ that formed at his waist, loving the sounds it elicited from him. “Love the hair and beard, too. The beard needs a bit of a trim, but still, dirty hot look for you definitely works for me.”

“Depends on the next role, but the beard is driving me crazy. Takes too much damn time to maintain. Same with this mop,” he said finishing up his routine. He suspected if he didn’t get out of the shower soon, they would need to wash up again.

“Such little butt, though. Nice shape. Not flat, but little,” you observed.

You turned to grab your conditioner and Jensen shut off the water on his side.

“Do you want me to keep it?” he asked.

“It’s good for ‘sports’ but I would have climbed that scrawny kid I knew way back in the day,” you said. “That sounds terrible.”

“Not everyone can have a perfect ass like you,” he said and gave your butt a solid smack, the sound amplified by your surroundings.

Reeling, not only from the stinging of your buttock, but also from the rush of heat to your lady parts. Rubbing the now hot skin on your butt, you called after him, “I still have you!”

He just laughed and added, “Touche!” as he wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom. Almost as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, something felt off. His clothes were in the bedroom and needed to grab the bag. Brushing the feeling aside, he walked through her closet into the bedroom. His peripheral vision caught the small dark figure near the door at the same time as a soft gasp met his ears, making him freeze in his tracks. His hand immediately went to his towel to make sure it didn’t go anywhere.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my daughter’s house?” the woman asked.

He pushed his shaggy hair back off his forehead with his free hand and turned to look at Y|N’s tiny mother.

“Hi Deb,” he said, feeling very, very self-aware as it took her a moment to recognize him.

“J-Jensen?! Oh my god!” She quickly covered her eyes. “I didn’t know you kids were back in town. I was just coming over to check on the house, water the mail and check the plants. Oh god, you know what I mean! Where’s Y|N?”

If it had been happening to anyone else, he might have found it funny how Y|N clearly got some of her more amusing traits from her mother. Instead, he was beyond mortified that her mother had now seen him nearly naked and obviously sleeping with her daughter. “Finishing up in the shower,” he hated the awkward pause. Pointing back toward the bathroom, he said, “I’m just going to go…” he trailed off and took long strides back through the closet to the bathroom.

Y|N was out of the shower in a robe and was putting her hair up in a towel when he walked in.

“Babe,” he waited for her to look up. “Your mom is here,” he pointed, “IN your room.”

You looked at Jensen and how pink he looked and nearly naked. One plush towel was the only thing saving his modesty. The image of your disheveled bed flashed into your mind’s eye and you’d obviously just gotten out of the shower right after Jensen.

“I guess I don’t have to tell her we’re together,” you chuckled.

“Do you have another one of those robes?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’ll be right back,” you told him and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, Mom loves you.”

Quickly, you went to your room and gave your mom the “one second” hand signal, grabbed Jensen’s bag and took it to the bathroom for him. He mouthed a relieved “thank you” and took the bag from you. Back out in your room, your mom was still standing by the door waiting for you to return.

“Oh my god, honey, I didn’t know you were both here. I came in through the front door, I didn’t even know you were home. What happened out there? Is he okay? I think we were both pretty shocked,” she said all at once.

Your mom was well aware of what had been going on in Jensen’s personal life. Donna and she still talked fairly regularly. “It’s okay, Mom, he’ll live,” you chuckled. Your mom had a funny smile on her face. “How about you? Are you okay? Did you get an eyeful?” you teased.

She put her hand on your arm, “Honey.”

“I know,” you chuckled again.

“So you two got together finally?” She looked hopeful.

You smirked and thought of all the inappropriate things to say. “Yeah, we’re finally going to give ‘us’ a try. Please, don’t make a thing of it. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Y|N!” she smacked your arm. Her eyes went wide then a little teary. 

“You’re making it weird,” you told her. “He wants me to go with him to Texas and wherever else he needs to go. Guess I can quit the grocery store now.”

“You could have anyway. You don’t need that job at all,” she reminded you.

“I like the structure,” you told her.

“You know, I tried to call you.”

“I know. Soldier Boy threw me in the river and it was in my pocket,” you explained. “I made him buy me a new one.”

“Soldier Boy?”

“The reason he looks Hulked out. He was at his batcave and the physical work kept the muscle. It’s kinda hot.”

“I’ll say,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Okay,” you laughed. “We’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

You shuffled her out the door and gently closed it behind her. When you heard her on the steps, you went back to your bathroom. Jensen stood in there, fully dressed, looking like he was finding stuff to do until it was safe for him to step out.

“Smells expensive in here. Did you try all of my products, or just the ones that you thought smelled nice?” you asked.

He was studying the bottles of perfume. Finding the one he was looking for, he picked it up and showed it to you saying, “This one is my favorite. Warm and spicy, like you.”

“That’s my favorite, too,” you admitted. It was one you had found in one of the little shops near your hotel when you visited him in Rome. “I told my mom we would come down to talk with her. She’s going to want to know what the plan is for Texas and after.” You took the bottle of perfume from him and opened your robe to spray it on your body and put it back on the vanity.

“If we make it out of this room,” he said, snaking his hands inside the robe and pulling you to him. His hands moved over your bare skin.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ackles,” you warned him.

His full lips met yours, parting for his tongue to gently mingle with yours, stoking the embers that seemed to always be threatening to ignite around him. His right hand went up your back between your shoulder blades while his left reached down to grasp your ‘perfect’ flesh. Your heart raced in your chest despite the somewhat tender moment. He broke the kiss, but held you still, not wanting to fully break the moment.

“Love you like crazy, Nova,” his eyes were closed, forehead touching yours.

Despite the heat from your body and his, his deep voice and breath on your face gave you goosebumps. “Love you so much, my sweet boy.” You smiled with your eyes closed as your hand went up the back of his neck.

“You better put some clothes on before we go down,” he said, sounding a little like Dean, his lips brushing your forehead before he kissed you.

He left you standing there in a little daze to collect yourself and get ready as quickly as you could to meet with your mother.

Mercifully, by the time you and Jensen went down to the kitchen, your mother had rallied and was pretending like she hadn’t just seen Jensen nearly naked. She was looking through the cupboards for something.

“Honey, where’s your Keurig pods?” she asked after hearing you enter the kitchen, but she still kept opening cupboard doors.

You went to the pantry and showed her what you had for your selections.

“You don’t have any coffee?” she asked.

“I only keep that around for you. When you were here last, you used the last one. We only got here last night, so I haven’t gone to the store yet.”

You thought you heard a grumble from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here either,” you said over your shoulder to Jensen.

“Well, how long are you kids going to be in town? Do you want to put in an order at the store? I could go pick it up for you,” she offered.

You moved to the end of the island to stand next to where Jensen was sitting.

“We haven’t really talked about how long we will be here. Jensen needs to go back to Texas to deal with some stuff and I want to go with him. We’re not in a huge rush to get down there, but we do need to go, soonish.”

Jensen nodded. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it on the way here. I was thinking we could ease into it. Take care of as much as we can here, then go down, maybe in a week or less.”

“I think it’s going to be crazy once we get into the full swing of your career,” you looked at him.

“Um, your career is doing pretty well. I’ll probably be the one keeping up with you,” he said.

Your mom looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you going to go public? You, Y|N, with who you really are? I mean about your writing.”

You nodded. “At some point. That’ll make my manager and agent very happy…and publisher.”

Your mom clasped her hands together. “Oh thank god. Please do it soon! It has been so hard to keep this a secret for so long, especially from your brother. I think he suspects something but I don’t know what.”

“Drug dealer,” you joked.

Jensen perked up, “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“No,” you admitted, “but he probably thinks that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” your mom admonished, “but he will draw that conclusion soon if you don’t tell him soon. He wondered how you were able to build this house. So far, he’s buying your NRC cover.”

“The government pays well,” you noted.

“Be that as it may, you’ve got to at least tell your brother the truth,” she said.

“So he can ask for even more money?” you grumbled. “It would be one thing if it weren’t so frequent.”

“I’ll handle him, even if you don’t tell him. His feelings will be hurt if you don’t tell him before you go public.”

You looked at Jensen. He shrugged, “Deb has a point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you admitted. It had been a long time since it all began. He didn’t really ‘deserve’ to know, in your opinion, but he should know, you supposed. “I guess I better make a to-do list of shit to get done while we’re here.”

“I know, and he’s terrible about keeping a secret. Anyway, I should go,” your mom said. “You two probably have a lot to take care of while you’re here.” She picked up her purse. “Let me know if you need me to run any errands for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said.

She patted Jensen’s shoulder, “I was always rooting for you kiddo. I’m happy for you both.”

Your mom was going to leave it at that, but Jensen turned toward her. “Thanks, Deb,” he said and hugged her. “I feel like we’ve gotten closer today.”

They parted and your mom was blushing again.

“I’m so sorry, I was just so surprised,” she said.

Jensen chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. It was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you, too,” she said innocently. Then the realization of the double meaning washed over her features before she practically ran to the door.

“Now I understand where you get it,” Jensen smiled.

“She’s my mom, not blind. She’s always appreciated a hot guy,” you told him. You reached out to touch his neck. “This grizzly look is working, big time.”

“I don’t know if I can wait for Texas to get this cut. Do you have any scissors, razors, clippers or anything?” he asked.

“I do, but you’re getting the dullest ones I have,” you told him. You sighed, “We can probably get some at the store when we get groceries.” 

You could feel the cosmic pressure to get back to work coming from your agent, publisher, and manager. You gave Jensen a quick tour of the house but you eventually ended up at your desk in your office. You tapped the ctrl button a few times to wake up your system. Jensen left for a few moments while you opened your emails. You knew he’d noticed your secret, but you waited and kept reading.

After you answered a couple emails, Jensen reappeared to ask, “What’s with this wall?”

You tried to look confused, “It’s a bookshelf? I think I need one of those cool rolling ladder things.”

“You should definitely do that,” he pointed a finger at you for emphasis, but turned back toward the wall of shelves. “But…something is off…”

“What do you mean? Is something out of place?” you got up to join him. He was so close to discovering your secret.

Jensen scanned the shelves until his eyes fell on a book that seemed out of place from the others.

“Nova, you are the coolest chick I’ve ever known.” He stepped forward and tipped his head to the side to read the spine of one of the books. “Aerospace Engineering. Now I know you do a lot of research, and are smart as hell, but I read all of the Whiskey Hollow books and Bart wasn’t engineering shit.”

“Okay, smartass. How about you check the inside cover. It’s inscribed to me,” you gave him a playful shove.

Jensen reached for the top of the book to pull it off the shelf. When he grasped the top corner of the book and began to pull, there was a soft click and the bookshelf moved.

“No you did not do a secret library door! Where does it go? Can I go in? There isn’t a trapdoor for me to fall through is there? I can’t believe you Scooby-Doo’d your office.”

You went to the bookcase and pushed on the right side while pulling on the left. The bookcase moved easily and quietly opened like a regular door. It locked into the open position and the lights inside the room turned on to reveal both a spiral staircase going down and a room you had turned into a quiet office for your zoom meetings. It worked great for the meetings where you needed to focus and not get distracted, looking out the window.

It was cute to watch him. He looked like a kid in a candy store. The walls in the open space of the room were covered in a mural of muted greens and grays, displaying a misty forest scene and the lighting was adjustable to your mood.

Jensen stuck his head inside the booth and poked around looking at the mic and camera, but his eyes kept going toward the staircase.

“There is a trapdoor next to the staircase, but it isn’t a drop door,” you said as you motioned to the stairs, “After you, sir.”

Jensen went to the spiral staircase and looked down into the darkness.

“Make sure you use the handrail,” you told him.

Eager to discover more surprises, he rested his hand on the rail and began the descent. The lights turned on and got brighter as he went down each step. He immediately stopped, lifted his hands and took another stop to test his theory. He then ran his hands up and down the rails and the lights dimmed or brightened with the motions.

“Coo-ooo-ool,” he said then ambled all the way down the stairs which ended facing directly into the big surprise you’d incorporated into your house, just for him. “You did this for me?”

He went to look at each guitar, instrument and piece of equipment you had gathered for his in-home recording studio.

“How? Why? Babe… this is too much,” he said, though his voice was still far away, exploring and marveling at the gift.

“I hoped,” you began, “I hoped, that someday, you would be here and could use it. And… that you and I would be where we are now… You probably don’t even know you sing along to the radio, like, all the time. If you’re not singing, it’s humming. I wanted you to have a place like this where you could be creative if you wanted to. You never know when inspiration might hit.”

He was still quiet looking at things, “I tried to involve you in this, but I called some guys you know and they helped me pick out the right pieces and equipment,” you explained. “I didn’t mean for this to be a surprise. I just wanted you to be happy here. Happy to come visit.”

Jensen put down the acoustic guitar he’d been strumming and crossed the floor to where you stood watching him. He stood over you looking down into your eyes. You saw they had gone a deep green color as he looked into yours. His hands cupped your face and neck as he spoke softly to you.

“I want you to hear me and take this to heart, my Nova, as long as you’re with me, I’m a happy guy. I hope I never made you feel like I didn’t want to be around you. Hell, I even asked you to move closer to me,” he pulled you to him, his lips pressing to yours, one arm around you, the other touching your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me, but I promise, I’m all yours.” He turned his head to the side, leaning down to kiss you again.

He broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. You were still floating somewhere close to heaven with your eyes still closed.

“It was Steve, wasn’t it?” his voice rumbled, breath on your face. His fingertip traced your lower lip.

“Steve who?” you were in a love daze.

“Carlson,” he kissed your jaw near your ear.

“Mhm,” you ran your hand through his hair, “and Jason, too.”

He moved to your neck and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “You’re mine.”

“They really liked helping me,” you prodded. “They’ve even been here before you. …and stayed overnight.”

“Never again,” he said against your neck, his beard scratching your skin.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, playfully.

The way he rocked and swayed with your body, it almost felt like you were dancing.

“You’ll never have to wonder where I am, or how much I love you, ever again,” he said.

“Why are you so sweet to me?”

“I give back what I receive,” he said simply, kissing you softly. “You set a high bar.”

You composed yourself and remembered you needed to get back to work.

“Hey, give it all a try and the amps. I won’t be able to hear a thing with the soundproofing,” you went back toward the stairs. “I really need to get back to work.”

He gave you a look of longing, but also a thumbs-up as a signal that he heard you and was already looking at his options. When you got upstairs, you left open the bookcase so you could hear him anyway. He could sing the alphabet and you would want to hear him. Steve and Jason had both been at your house at the same time for one visit and they had their own little jam session down there to test out all of the equipment. With all of the soundproofing, being in the basement, and closing the bookcase, you’d forgotten they were even there until they emerged several hours later.

Once you’d gotten resettled at your desk, you were disappointed to find that your unread emails and open documents were still there, unread and unfinished. Resolving to at least get through your emails, you trained your focus to your computer screen.

When the emails were all read and responses sent, you decided to take a break at your desk and listen to the music coming from below. You heard the last of “The Sounds of Someday” before he started “City Grown Willow”.

The lyrics to “City Grown Willow” had always resonated with you and you didn’t know why. It just felt like it was mean for your ears. It just hit differently now. The video he and Steve had done… the lyrics… it was almost like he’d been calling out to you with the song. You passed off the notion as wishful thinking and got back to work on the screenplay. It would be the introduction of Hobart and Lillian to the viewers who may not be familiar with the books, but also, you wanted to stay somewhat true to the first book, while assuming the viewers half-way know what’s going on in the universe.

The software package you bought was a life-saver and you were flying through pages and pages of script. Dialog had always been easy for you. Hearing the character’s voices had always been very clear for you. Thankfully, describing setting didn’t need to be wildly descriptive and it was the content of the scenes that were more important.

Whiskey Hollow had lived in your mind for years, but it was somewhat difficult to reintroduce the characters because they had come so far since the beginning. Thankfully, you still had your written notes and outlines from your original book and that was an incredible help. With your notes handy, you wouldn’t reveal too much, too soon.

It wasn’t until Jensen arrived with a bowl of cereal and a drink that you realized how much time had passed or that he’d even left the studio.

“Figured you might need that,” he said, pulling up a chair to eat with you.

“I’m sorry, Jay, I got in a groove and I had to go with it,” you explained.

“No worries,” he waved you off. “I got carried away down there, too. You did great with it. Whole thing,” he waved his hand in a circle, “A plus.”

“Well, you can thank Jason and Steve. They were a big help.”

“It was your idea. So I’m thanking you. I can’t believe you did that.”

You only shrugged. It didn’t seem extreme to you. You’d only wanted a space for Jensen to be creative in a way you knew he would love and not be held back by anything it could be lacking…but you did realize the truth of it.

“I think that, though my brain knew we were not a couple, my heart didn’t listen and wanted…to express my love for you,” you couldn’t believe you admitted it out loud. “Some people’s love language is touch, mine is outlandish gifts.”

He nodded as he chewed his cereal. “I know you don’t love people touching you, pretty much ever, but I love that you let me. Touch is my language and… it makes me feel important, special, that you shower me with your attention.” He took another bite of cereal, “I put a lot of what’s going on in here,” he tapped his temple, “into the songs I write with Steve. It’s not a love language, exactly, but… it also is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve heard me perform. I’ve seen your vinyls of mine…” he was getting shy. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“Off My Mind,” you answered quickly.

Jensen smiled, “Yeah, that’s a good one. We ran with that one. I was feeling a certain kind of way with that one.” 

“Did you write that?”

“It was mostly Steve, but I put in my two cents. Any others, maybe off volume 2?” he asked.

““City Grown Willow”,” you answered.

“"City Grown Willow" is about you,” he said simply. 

“What?”

“Us,” he said, pointing back and forth between you and himself.

When you just sat staring at him in confusion and disbelief, he continued, “That video call, that one in December 2019.”

“The one where you didn’t get my spot on Edna Mode impression?”

“I know who she is now. Good movie.”

“I know…”

“Can I tell you this or not?”

“I’m sorry, please, go on,” you chuckled.

“After that call, it kicked things in motion. You were on my mind a lot and I needed time to process. Wrote the song to kind of push things out and into being.”

You remembered that call quite well and what he’d just said made you ask, “So talking to me made you realize that you had love feelings for me. You tried to stay with Dee, ultimately divorcing. Then you write the song. Then you go out and shag everything with boobs. Get into a situation. Text me the most cryptic text you’ve ever sent, and that’s saying something, and went into hiding hoping I would come find you.”

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound as good. We can edit that when our grandkids ask us about our story.”

“We’re having grandkids?”

Jensen shrugged and took a drink of the milk in his bowl. “We’ve been ‘shagging’ like rabbits for weeks…I know I wasn’t using anything, were you?”

“Holy crap,” you said. “I didn’t even think about it. I’m getting a little – seasoned. We better get to the store and pick up some tests, just in case. I didn’t think you wanted kids, Jay.”

“I didn’t think I did. I didn’t think it would be a good idea until now,” he said.

“What changed your mind?” you wanted to know.

“The right partner,” he answered. He seemed apprehensive, “I want you to know it’s okay if we don’t. I know you went through stuff with Dan…”

“For the record, before you say more, you came for me when I needed you, too. And while I was very sad to lose that pregnancy, I didn’t want to have a child with him. I felt really guilty about that for a long time, but I knew he wasn’t the one.”

“--are we doing this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. This is kind of out of nowhere, Jay. I don’t even know if my body can handle it at this point. What if I decide you’re a douchebag and kick you to the curb? What if I’m not the best thing since sliced bread and you decide you want soup?”

“Sweetheart, I’m a sandwich guy and that’s not gonna change. Not now, not ever,” he said with finality.

“You’re such a dork, though! Oh my god. What if I’m pregnant right now and this kid gets your sense of humor? I don’t know if I could take it from two of you!” 

“You’d love it,” he said playfully.

You avoided his gaze for a few moments, feeling a little overwhelmed. You hadn’t even thought about your cycle since before you left. You didn’t even know if you could have kids at this point in your life. It was possible, of course, but risky. “Jay, let’s not rush things, okay? I… I’m a little skittish after everything. Dan and Grant and all of the other disasters, I just… they all cheated on me and treated me like shit, used me for whatever reason… As my friend, I trust you implicitly…”

“I understand,” he raised a hand, as though to indicate, ‘say no more’. “I don’t want to rush either. I’m just saying if it happens, I’m going to be happy about it, and if it doesn’t, I’m good, too. I love what we have going on right now, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Babe. I promise. You can trust me. Always.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go get some groceries,” he said.

“Hold on now,” you said, finishing your cereal and milk. “How long do you plan on being here? I don’t want to buy a bunch of food only to throw it out.”

He leaned back in his chair, extending his legs to go across your lap. Absently, your hands rested on his legs. Jensen stretched his whole body shit his hands clasped on top of his head.

“How does staying the week and leaving on Saturday morning sound? IF we drive all day, we’d get there Saturday night.”

“Do you have your own place down there, or did you get to keep the house?” you asked.

“I let her keep the house,” he said. “It was never really mine. She picked just about everything. I got a little place on Lake Austin. It’s small, but it is secure, has a good view and access to the lake.”

“What did you do with the Impala,” you were suddenly fearful. “You still have it, right? Tell me she didn’t try to take it from you.”

“No, I made it clear there would be pushback if she tried. Clif is looking after it for me, for now. Also, she wanted a prenup and I signed it. I don’t go after her stuff, nor she mine. Another reason I didn’t want to have kids with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we’d had a kid, she could get half of my shit and alimony and child support.”

A thought sprung to your mind and you didn’t know if you should ask it or not.

“I can see your wheels spinning. Just ask.”

“Is there any-thing that is going to come back and bite you in the ass?” you asked.

“No?” he pulled his legs from your lap.

“Jay… I don’t trust her. I just get the feeling this isn’t over with her. She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out about us.”

“She can be mad all she wants. Divorce was final four months ago.”

“Okay, let’s go get some food,” you said, not wanting to discuss it any further. You just couldn’t shake that feeling of dread regarding anything to do with his ex wife. She didn’t strike you as one to give up on someone she wanted, or let go of a goal. She played the long-con for years and did what she could to keep you away from Jensen during that time.

“Can we make your pasta?” he asked.

You grabbed your bowl. “I told you you’d get hooked on it.”

Jensen drove you both into town to the local grocery store. Your little town has changed a lot over the years, including the grocery store. When you were growing up, there were two stores. Nowe there was only one and it was in a brand new building and location.

Jensen wore jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and a trucker hat. He looked funny with his hair smashed down and his beard sticking out. It was the little things that mattered though. He took your hand when you walked through the parking lot. Little touches as you shopped. The need to be separate, to hide your feelings, was gone.

People said hello to you both. Jensen got some second looks, but nothing to make them stop and ask questions. A few of the people you worked with stopped to chat and Jensen continued on shipping. When he found you again, your former boss, former classmate, and former neighbor, Brian was chatting you up.

“You look great, Y|N. You look really happy. What have you been doing?” he asked.

Apparently, Brian hadn’t noticed Jensen approaching. You turned at the sound of the cart and Jensen making noise as he got closer. Somehow, he’d taken on a rougher version of Dean, one who’d seen too much and he looked quite imposing.

“Me. She’s been doing me, Brian,” he said reading his nametag. 

The blush in your face was rising. He could never just be cool when a guy was talking to you.

“Brian, this is Jay. Jay, this is Brian, whom I just told I quit. I’ve also known him since we were kids,” you introduced your guy to your friend.

“Huh. Me too,” Jensen said. “Good to meet you, Brian.” He extended his hand to the other man. “Baby, I got us set for the week. Are you ready to go home?” his voice was full Dean and half an octave lower.

Dominance Asserted.

“Yes, hon, I’m ready. Did you find what you wanted?” you replied.

“Sure did,” he planted a kiss on you. He pulled you and the cart with him, leaving Brian behind you.

The two of you went to the register and a high school kid you didn’t know rang up your selections. She was quick and friendly and barely gave Jensen any attention. You paid and thanked her and left with Jensen pushing the cart to the truck.

“Jay? You good?” you were putting bags into the back of the truck.

“Do you know everyone here?” he asked.

You nodded, “Kinda. It’s a pretty small town and I did work here… Didn’t like Brian, huh?”

He shook his head, “Nope. He was looking at you like you were a full meal after being half-starved.”

“Seriously? I’ve known him since his family came to town. Literally my next-door neighbor.”

“Yep, dead serious. Maybe he didn’t ‘see’ you then, but he does now. Does Br-i-an know how you wrecked your friend’s bike when you were seven?”

Jensen put the cart away with emphasis. It crashed to a stop in the coral.

“Jay!” he stopped in front of you. “Only my immediate family, Lance’s family, and you know about that accident. My love,” you patted his chest, “wild horses couldn’t take me from you, you know that, right?”

He grumbled, “Nova, I don’t think you realize how hot you are. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d still want to do dirty things with you. People are always drawn to you. Friggin Glen practically ran to talk to you.”

“Glen is an old man,” you laughed, “and you were being an aloof mountain man. I think he was worried for me.”

“Old, not dead,” he said.

“Ooookay, I think you’re blowing things out of proportion. I know who I’m going home with and it sure as shit isn’t Brian…who is a total douche, by the way. Constantly cheats on his wife. And definitely not with crusty Glen. I’m the one who is supposed to be neurotic, not you.”

He sighed heavily, “It’s just that… I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here.”

At your house, you and Jensen got the groceries put away and he’d gotten back to his normal self. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said and your curiosity was killing you. It had gotten close enough to dinner that the two of you could start preparing food.

Jensen helped cut the tomatoes while Y|N did the rest of the food prep. She hated cutting the tomatoes and it was the least he could do to help out if she was willing to do the rest. By the time the water was boiling, he had half of the tomatoes done and in the bowl where she was steadily adding the green onions and other ingredients. When the tomatoes were added to the bowl, he excused himself to get cleaned up for dinner and grabbed the bag that held his purchases from the pharmacy.

Upstairs in the bathroom he pulled the boxes out of the bag and saw the pregnancy tests at the bottom. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be a father, but if Y|N was pregnant, he was happy to be a parent with her. Seeing them also reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember. He had to tell himself that Y|N was not at all like Dee and wouldn’t do what she had done. Normally, he was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but the last few years had severely tested his resolve.

He set up the clippers and got to work. He didn’t take off too much since he didn’t know what the next job would need… if he got another job. He just hoped there would be a next job. Tomorrow, he would start making calls. Hopefully his career was salvageable. 

Y|N had asked him if he wanted to retire. He supposed she asked because she already knew the answer. He didn’t want to retire and she had already pulled him out of headspace that had been quickly going down that path. It was hard being around her again and not think about all of the things Dee had been trying to brainwash him with. Despite knowing Y|N so well and trusting her, Dee had managed to cast doubt inside him.

“Everything is going to work out,” Y|N had told him. “Tomorrow, I’m going to show you how to use everything and you’re going to get back on track. Maybe you can finally start that production company you’ve always wanted to do, too. Maybe quietly start developing shows, actively look for new ideas and writers who are also in love with you.”

Dee had never said anything like that to him, never been so encouraging. He should have known not to doubt Y|N. She was always in his corner and had never waivered. He flipped on the clippers and set about taming his overgrown beard. There was no denying she made him happy. Hell, he couldn’t get enough of her. All he wanted to do was be around her, to touch her, to love her. It was nice to shower affection on her and have it returned rather than withheld. After all she had been through, it seemed like she needed it, too. Maybe they just needed it from one another. 

You took the candle stick holders from the mantle and put them on the table in the dining room. The pasta definitely wasn’t a romantic dinner, but you wanted to make it special somehow. Jensen was probably going to be very busy in the lead up to going back to Texas and you had a lot of writing you needed to get done. That morning was a good start, but there was so much more to do.

You were busy getting the candles set up and the bowls dished when Jensen reappeared, looking very over-dressed for a simple home meal. And yet, also slightly casual. He was rolling up the sleeves on a white, button down shirt, which was neatly tucked into black dress pants. No belt. No socks. Somehow, he’d managed to tame his glorious mane of hair and had it brushed back from his face. His tan skin enhancing his good looks and green eyes.

“Whoa,” you heard yourself say.

He looked up with his eyes and gave you a wry smile as he finished cuffing his sleeve.

“I am wildly underdressed…It’s really not fair that you make this whole combo look so fucking hot. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“You can take your clothes off,” he put his hands in his pockets, not moving from the dining room entry. He could see you thinking about going to change your clothes. “No. Not change. Off. Or as you are.”

Goddaaaaaamn. He raised an eyebrow in question at you. “I choose my modesty, I guess.”

“Hmm.” He entered the room and pulled a chair out for you to sit at the head of the table. He pulled the palm of your hand to his lips, your fingers touching his beard, which felt softer.

The man made you feel giddy inside. Of course, you’d been friends forever and he’d always given your heart a rush, but your relationship had shifted dramatically the day you found him at his cabin. 

“Jay – you don’t have to try to be someone else for me, you know that, right?” you asked. “You don’t have to be Dean, or anyone else. I just want my friend and confidant.

Jensen seated himself to your right. “I’m not trying to be anyone else. Now that you and I are together, I get to show you all sides of me…the ones I couldn’t show you until you found me on that mountain.”

You took a bit of food and reached for his hand. He took it and held it on the table. “You held back?”

He nodded, “Mhm, big time.” His thumb stroked the top of your hand.

“Me, too,” you admitted. “Like every time. Was it like that for you, too?”

He nodded again, taking a smaller bite, “Had to.”

A couple of bites passed with him holding your hand on the table top. “Were you –in love–with me–the whole time, too? Cuz–I was–with you.”

Jensen let go of your hand, used his napkin, then leaned way over to kiss you. “Mhm.”

It took you a few moments to collect yourself after that. You knew you would never get tired of hearing him say things like that to you. When your heart and stomach stopped jittering, you got out your phone  and told your sound system to play music. You and Jensen chatted over your meal and you were using your elbow and the palm of your hand to hold up your head. You couldn’t help but stare at him. His skin was tan, hair somewhat lightened due to being in the sun, his green eyes shining. White button down shirt highlighting his already ridiculously good looks. The music was playing and invading your thoughts while you appreciated the view.

“Can you dance like John Travolta?” you asked.

His fork stopped before reaching his lips, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Only John Travolta can dance like John Travolta.”

“Hmm,” you smirked. “Stayin’ Alive’ was playing when it finally hit you who Jensen had been reminding you of with his glorious mane. “Barry Fucking Gibb!”

“Maurice Gibb,” he said confused. “The hell are we doing, naming BeeGees?”

You sat staring at him, both shocked and proud of yourself for finally pin-pointing who he’d been reminding you of.

“Oh my god!” you laughed and clapped your hands over your mouth. “No! You’re reminding me of Barry Gibb!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yes it fucking is!’ you laughed. “Oh god, do I think Barry Gibb is hot?”

“That’s it, it’s coming off tomorrow,” he grumped.

You sat considering his thick hair. You’d really gotten to like running your fingers through it. “We could really complete the look with a spectacular blowout.”

“Woman, if you come near me with a blow dryer, I swear…”

“You’ll spank me?”

He put his fork down and wiped his mouth. “You’re filthy. You’ve spent too much time around ex-cops and ex-military.”

“No, I’ve always been like this, I just couldn’t say it before. You always had a lady on your arm,” you paused, “Does it bother you?”

He smirked, “No. I guess not. Guess we need to get to know each other again.”

“In a new way,” you agreed.

When you woke the next morning, it was not to Jensen’s kisses. He wasn’t even in the bed with you. You’d reached to touch the spot where he had lain and it was cold. Still waking up. Your brain wasn’t processing information. You looked around trying to figure out where he’d gone. Only briefly, you wondered if you’d dreamed it all. Then the sound of a song softly sung reached your ears. It wasn’t quite the deeper tone of Steve’s voice, but you recognized “Off My Mind” right away. 

Getting out of bed, you went into your bathroom and found Jensen in front of the mirror with the trashcan on the counter under him. He hummed the song when he was on his neck, then would vocalize the lyrics when he cleaned the counter of the bits that missed the trash.

Catching you watching, he said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You thought maybe you grunted in response. Jensen asked, “You gonna miss it?” He was taking off what was left of the beard. He turned the clippers back on and another soft plop of beard landed in the bin.

Moving to where he stood, you leaned against the counter with your back to the mirror. You’d caught a glimpse of yourself and were not impressed. You shrugged slightly, “It’ll be nice to see your face again. Are you taking it all off?”

“I was thinking I’d leave some. Dean still looks back at me sometimes,” he said. “I should have just taken it all off last night. Thought I’d be able to stand it a little longer.”

“Do you miss him?” you asked.

He nodded and continued taking the beard down to a thin layer. 

“I miss him, too. It’s okay with me if he shows up once in a while. It was really hard watching that last episode,” you paused, remembering. “I probably won’t ever watch it again, though.”

“That bad?”

“That traumatizing,” you said. You could feel yourself getting emotional. “Not only did I have to watch Dean die, I felt like I was watching you die, too. You and Dean are so intertwined, it felt so real. To have Dean go out like that… the writers did you dirty. I get why they did it, but I hate it! Dean deserved to be happy and have a life, too.” The tears were welling up. “If you ever bring him back, please, let someone love him. Someone who loves him for exactly who he is.” The tears broke over your cheeks.

He took a step to the side to hold you, “Baby, I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I know!” you mumbled into his chest, still crying. “You had me on radio silence and I had to suffer alone.”

“He had to die sometime,” he rubbed your back.

“Not like that! Not so young! They barely left room for you guys to come back. And don’t give me that bullshit about COVID and needing to make changes. They did not need to kill Dean in a dirty BARN with a random piece of absurdly large rebar in shitty lighting. Give me Dabb’s phone number.”

He squeezed you once more before letting you go and resuming shaving.

“I’m not giving you his number,” he said.

“Well…okay,” you sputtered, “but I’m going to fix it. I’m gonna plot out a whole thing and my sweet Dean will live.”

“Like fan fiction?” he asked, still shaving. Large clumps of beard falling into the trash can.

“No, not like fan fiction, butthole. Like a fully plotted out, written scripts that will fucking resolve that bullshit.”

“Don’t you have a whole movie to write?” he asked.

“Listen, Ackles,” you gave him tone and he grinned knowing he zinged you. “O’ll make it happen. Just you wait.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “You do that. Can I help plot it out with you?”

“Of course!” you were feeling better now and excited about the prospect of potentially bringing your favorite character back to life.

Jensen put the final guard on the clippers and ran it over his face. He made sure he got any long pieces he may have missed, then cleaned up the mess he’d made on the counter. You were patiently waiting for him to show you his face. It still surprised you how long his hair had gotten, though.

“How long were you growing out your hair, for real?” you asked. “You were up there a couple months, but this grow out is a good six months or more.”

“About that,” he agreed.

“Do you want me to take some length off? I have scissors somewhere,” you offered. “Can’t guarantee it’ll look good, but I’ll leave enough a pro can fix it.”

“Knock yourself out,” he agreed and sat on your vanity chair.

Grabbing a towel, all of your hair clips, brush and comb, you got ready to cut Jensen’s hair. You draped the towel around his shoulders and reached around from behind to clip the towel together in front of him.

She brushed his hair, running her fingers through with each pass. Her nails scratched his scalp as she seemingly massaged his head.

“Mm. Your scalp is tense. How is your scalp tense?” 

“Might be because I have a nearly naked woman dancing around and touching me all over,” he remarked.

She looked down at her bare legs under his shirt. “So…if I lifted my arms above my head like this,” she flashed him, “that do anything for ya?”

It really did. He didn’t know why it was so hot when women wear their partner’s clothes, but it was. The shape of her ass just barely concealed.

“Yep. Like it. Like it a lot,” he was trying not to think about it.

“Oh…okay,” she said, and he knew she would tease him the whole time she cut his hair.

She brushed it back and tried his hair in different styles. He just let her do her thing until she could picture the style she wanted.

“Too bad, Barry Gibb is pretty hot on you,” she teased and got to sectioning his hair.

When she was done, he’d gotten his face full of her at least three times, and two views of her butt in the mirror. She took off about three inches of hair from all over his head. She brushed it again and checked her work, looking for missed, long hairs. She then got out the clippers and shaved his neck and evened out the line of hair. He was then given a mirror so she could check the final product while she cleaned up the floor gracing him with one luxurious view of her backside.

“That’s a lot of hair, hon,” she said, putting the clippings in the trash. “So?”

“Actually, not bad.”

“Really, or are you trying not to hurt my feelings?” she asked.

“Baby, I would tell you,” he assured her.

“Alright, let’s get some breakfast going. Then I can show you how to use all of the equipment,” she said.

After breakfast, you showed Jensen all of the things and where you kept your cheat sheets for him to use if needed. He seemed to catch on fairly quickly and you left him to it so you could get your own work done. Almost as soon as you got on your computer, you got a zoom call from your manager, Eleanor Mitchellhill.

“It’s very early in the day, Eleanor,” you answered the phone. An icy chill flowed through your screen.

“It’s not early here Y|N,” she snipped in her British accent. “Where the hell have you been? It took you longer than a couple weeks.”

“I was in an undisclosed location spending time with my friend who needed me,” you explained.

“Does this friend have a name?” she pressed.

“Elle…,” you stalled, “I don’t think you need his name yet.”

“Oh, I see,” she drew out the word. “It’s a he. Is this man the reason you’re practically glowing?” she wanted to know.

“You could say that,” you nodded.

“Well, whatever fuels your fire, I suppose,” she acquiesced. “We will come back to this soon enough.”

“I don’t need a background check, Elle,” you said, “but you’re right, we will need to talk about him later. I need a week. He needs to go to Texas.”

“And you need to go with him?” she guessed.

You sighed, “Elle, it’s complicated and yes, I’m going with him.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it in a week,” she said, dryly. “Right, let’s talk. For the love of all that is holy, when are we going to get you in the public eye? You’re cute as a button and the people will just eat you up. And my god, when they know about the mystery series…” she kissed her fingertips. “Perfection.”

“About that, I want to go public with the mystery series pen name first. The romance one, I don’t want to do yet. And I want to go public with the mystery one when the movie is about to release. Like, on the promotion circuit.”

“I suppose you’ve already talked to Jan about this?” she asked.

You nodded, “She’s aware. I also told her that when I get this script done, I want Jensen Ackles to get a shot at playing Hobart. So if he does, you’re gonna be okay with it.”

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, “Why would I need to do that?”

“He’s my friend, Elle, and I based the character on him. There really isn’t anyone better to play him.”

Eleanor sat quietly, just staring at you while she thought. “Alright. Now get that script done. And as soon as you get to Texas, I expect a call, immediately, Y|N.”

“Understood,” you confirmed.

After a few more calls and answered emails, you were able to get in some steady work and the words flew from your fingertips into the script. It was like you were putting what you could see so clearly in your head into the script. You still had the notes from when you wrote the first book so it flowed really well. The story of Whiskey Hollow was precious to you and it would have been hard for you to let anyone take over writing the script for the movie adaptation. You just hoped that what you were creating would be appealing to whichever studio wanted the script. Jan, your agent, would be working hard to find takers and you wanted to give it your best effort.

A few days later, you and Jensen had put in three very long days doing all manner of work on your script and getting his affairs in order. You had written a ton in the script and were nearing completion, but something had come up that needed to be dealt with. Your brother and mom were coming over and you were not looking forward to finally telling him your big secret.

You sat on the couch in your living room with a notebook and pen, jotting down a few words here and there as Jensen looked around while he waited. He liked to look at your things. He did it a lot when he would visit in the past. You supposed he just liked to get to know you by the items you kept, as well.

He turned toward the mantle. The light from outside shone on some glass pieces that had caught his eye. Stepping closer he realized the sparkle came from one of the crystal candlestick holders he’d sent her as a housewarming gift from himself and Danneel. Dee hadn’t wanted to sign the card, but he’d insisted. With one candlestick was the glass orb his mom had gifted her years ago and the Swarovski star he’d left for her at her apartment. Behind the glass art was a picture frame that held multiple pictures.

He needed to step closer to get a better look.

“Need my glasses?”  Y|N asked from the couch.

“Hush,” he returned. The pictures were of his family on various occasions through the years. He didn’t remember some of them.

“Where was I for this one?” he pointed to the picture in the top right location.

She put down her pen and paper to join him.

“Oh, I think you were in …shit…wherever Dawson’s Creek filmed… North Carolina?” she put her hand on his back. “Your mom said I was welcome to come by anytime I was in Dallas, so I did.”

“You did? How often did you go?” he was surprised she would go to his parents’ house without him also being there.

“Maybe once every two or three years. It was usually for work when you weren’t there. You knew when I was there for the conventions.”

He looked down at her, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I wasn’t there to see you,” she smiled. “I went to see your mom and dad…and have your mom’s cooking.” She got on her tiptoes for a quick kiss. “You’re hot as hell, but even my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

She moved to go back to the couch and her notebook. He put his arm around her to keep her close. “Hey,” he waited for her gaze to meet his, “you know I don’t think that, right?”

“I wondered sometimes,” she admitted.

“When?”

Her demeanor changed and she looked uncomfortable.

“You can tell me,” he tried to reassure her.

“That time you asked me to move to Austin, or LA, or Vancouver to be closer to you.” A harsh blush rose to her cheeks. “It felt like it was only to make you happy. You were with Dee and it made me feel like your side-piece, especially when I was sure you knew how I felt about you.”

It shocked him to hear her say it, but it was hard to deny her viewpoint. Neither one of them had been very good at concealing their feelings for each other, he was realizing. It had been selfish of him to ask, but he’d truly just wanted her closer… maybe he’d just been lying to himself a lot longer than he thought.

“I didn’t realize what I was doing. I shouldn’t have asked to put you in such an awkward position,” he held her tight to his chest. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” she said. Her hand snaked up the back of his t-shirt, her nails scratching the skin of his back. “I was so close to saying, fuckit, but I would totally have tried to be a homewrecker.”

He remembered asking her and he remembered that they had gone to the fair that trip. “I should have done something after you kicked fuckface to the curb. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to make things worse. I thought Danneel and I deserved a shot. I did love her, but not like how I love you. Even she knew. It’s probably why I didn’t get any of the letters you sent to Austin. She kept them from me because she knew how much I looked forward to them, even before we got engaged.”

“You were right though. I didn’t know who I was or what I needed after the Grant situation. I thought about making a move on you, too, but I didn’t know if I just wanted to feel better or if I truly wanted to start something with you.”

“Remember that night I fell asleep on your bed?” he paused when she looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Totally watched you change your clothes.”

“Oh my god,” she hid her face on his chest for a moment. “You dirty dog,” she chuckled.

“Worth it.”

“You liked what you saw?”

He nodded. “You were my dream girl before I even knew what that meant. I should never have let you get on that airplane,” he lamented.

He released her from his embrace and watched as she went back to the couch to wait for her brother to take his sweet time arriving. When she bent down to pick up her pen and notebook, he got a good look. She still has a great ass, he thought.

There were a lot of pictures on the mantle. Mostly, they were of their respective families and some convention photo ops. Far too many with Richard, he thought. At the opposite end of the mantle held the matching candlestick and more pictures that included her travels and himself. His eyes fell on the picture of them at the lake on the deck. They’d had such a good time that trip. Young enough to be carefree, old enough to be left to their own devices. They’d gone to the tiny amusement park and rode the rides over and over. Of course, Nova had liked the Ferris Wheel the best because it overlooked the lake. She loved the water, Ferris Wheels, and me, he thought with a smile. 

Finally, a half hour late, your brother, Jarrod, rang the doorbell and you let him into your house. He greeted Jensen and Jensen poured drinks for everyone while Jarrod got settled.

“Mom told me you two finally got together,” he said in his usual loud voice.

“Yeah, Jarrod, it’s true,” you said.

“If you two ever need security, I’m available. You know I’ve got that training…” he said.

You tried not to roll your eyes where Jarrod would notice. Jensen stood behind him for a moment and did it for you before coming around to sit in one of the armchairs and sip on his whiskey.

“Clif has his own guys that Jensen uses, but I will tell Clif that you might be interested if there’s an opening. But the reason I wanted you to come over is because I need to tell you something…”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Jesus Christ, Jarrod. No, I’m definitely not pregnant. I need to tell you that I don’t work for the government and haven’t for years. I did work for the NRC, but I haven’t for years.”

He just looked at you like it was old news. “You’ve been at the grocery store for a while. I assumed you just had a good retirement plan.”

Sometimes it still amazed you that you and he had the same genetic material.

“The government doesn’t pay well enough for me to buy a whole goddamned city block in town, Jarrod.”

“Don’t get pissy with me. So if you didn’t work for the government, who did you work for? You obviously had some serious cash coming in.”

It was all you could do to not attempt to strangle him. “I write books. Lots of them. And I sold a lot. I am Nova Scott and Ross Black.” You waited for it to sink in. All he did was stare at you blankly. Your brother was not known for quiet reflection and was beginning to scare you. A whole new list of worries sprinted through your brain. “I need you to be cool about this, Jarrod, and to keep it quiet.”

“Does Mom know?”

“Yeah, from the start. Like three people in the profession know, Mom, Jay, and my one employee, Jen. Now you.”

“He knew before me?” you could hear the anger rising in his voice.

Jensen said nothing but carefully set down his glass.

“Barely. I only just told him about Ross Black. He knew about Nova Scott a few years ago.”

“What about your dumbshit exes?”

“No, Jarrod. Dan knew I wrote, but he didn’t know what or under what name,” you explained.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” his voice boomed despite your plush furniture.

“I had my reasons,” you said simply.

He was obviously angry and hurt. He stood on the opposite end of the mantle from you. The sheer size of him was daunting and he scared the hell out of you when he was mad. Even if you got the upper hand, you knew you couldn’t take him. He was 8 inches taller and 150 pounds heavier, severely skewing your odds of being successful.

“Boy, nobody fucks you like family,” his volume only increasing.

“How the fuck is protecting my privacy about you?! I didn’t tell you for very good reasons.”

“You always thought you were too good for this family. Always smarter than me. The favorite child.”

“For fucks sake, Jarrod. This childish resentment needs to stop. I’m not smarter than you. I just tried harder. You’re mad at me about shit you could have fixed but didn’t and that’s on you.”

You didn’t realize you had so much built up rage.

“How long have you kept this from me?”

“Oh my god,” you were getting a headache. “I don’t have an obligation to tell you jack shit. I’m only telling you now out of courtesy because the press is going to find out about me and Jay and they will dig into who I am.”

“If you’ve been incognito this whole time, why now? You’ve known him forever. Has no one ever approached you?”

You shook your head. “What about you?” Jarrod shook his head. You sighed deeply as you told him about the plan. “If I tell you, I need to know I can trust you not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Not even Jenna.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not risking this leaking before its time. If you can’t promise me, I can’t tell you and you can leave now. Once it’s public then you can talk.”

Finally, he agreed and you told him everything. Jarrod went from fuming to understanding and back and forth as you told him your plan.

“So let me get this straight. You find out Bob is doing sketchy shit and your ‘source’ agrees to get you evidence of said shit. You find out other methods of embezzlement, not giving Dad a raise for 20 years, dad dies, you flip out at the funeral… I’m guessing that was the tipping point?” You nodded. “Debbie tries to start shit and you said what you said to her… so, are you going to do it soon, or are you just going to hold it over her, or them, or?”

“As long as they mind their own business, we’re cool. If they want to come at me, talk shit, or say any disparaging words about me and/or Jay, I will burn those motherfuckers to the ground.”

“Holy shit,” Jarrod muttered. “Still sounds like you’re the smart one.”

“No, I just hold a grudge and am willing to play the long game,” you told him.

Jarrod turned to Jensen who had been quietly listening to the exchange. “What about you? Are you good with this?”

“I know better than to get in her way. I trust her and the plan and will back her up to the end …not to mention happy to stay in her good graces,” Jensen answered, picking up his whiskey again.

“Guess I better do the same.”

The rest of the week continued to fly by. You were writing like crazy and Jensen was working with his lawyers, and team, to start getting him back into auditions for his various interests. He was collaborating with Steve, sending in voice work for his various cartoons and other voiceover work, calling all sorts of people to get his interests turned into reality. Meanwhile, you were writing, researching, asking Jensen questions and fielding calls from people like your agent, Jan.

“Hello Jan,” you answered. “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you to call again this week.” You’d sent her what you had of the completed script on Wednesday morning and she had called Thursday morning.

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you put in that script but the studio called back already and they want to have a meeting.”

“A meeting? About what? Is that good?” you asked, worried.

“In all my years, this has only happened a handful of times. You need to get over there so they can ooh and aah over what can only be a masterpiece.”

“Or they want to tell me to my face how it’s total shit and need to redo the whole thing,” you lamented.

“Sweetie, the studio doesn’t fly you out to talk about garbage. When can you be ready?”

“Um…I don’t know…I need to talk to Jensen, but I’m thinking we can go out tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Is this a package deal?” Jan asked. “If he’s included, I need to know now. I can try to get them to pay for the ticket, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“Book it regardless. He’s coming with me,” you told her. “We can cancel if need be.”

“Please tell me you’re going to get away from that tiny town you live in. You need to either be in LA or New York. You’re killing me with all of these connecting flights.”

You chuckled at her exasperated tone. “It may happen sooner than later. Hang tough, Jan. I want to try out the London West Hollywood this time.”

“Why not the Beverly Wilshire? You love that place and you can walk to the studio, you love that healthy shit.”

“Jan, that’s the Pretty Woman hotel and I’ll be going there with my new boyfriend.”

“So what, put it in one of those books you write. You are a pretty woman and that new guy of yours is a hot piece. You have your Pretty Woman experience, sweetie, you deserve it. And for what it’s worth, I like him and I don’t believe a word of the allegations. Nail that bitch to the wall. I did check around and couldn’t find anyone who had a bad word to say about him.”

“It means a lot, Jan,” you admitted. “I didn’t know you didn’t like the other guys.”

“Sweetie, you’re like family at this point. I tried to like ‘em, but it wasn’t my place to tell you who to love. I’ll get it set up and email you the details.”

“Thanks, Jan,” you signed off.

You got up from your computer to go find Jensen. The last you’d seen him, he’d gone through the bookcase. Inside the room, you’d expected to see him inside the soundproof room, but it was dark inside. You were reasonably sure you hadn’t missed a smoking hot man leave through your office, so you went for the spiral staircase to descend into the basement studio.

Jensen was at the soundboard with headphones on. His eyes were closed and you would have thought he was sleeping if not for his fingers tapping the beat on his chest. Your fingertips touched his shoulder first. He merely tensed his body before relaxing under your touch as your hand moved across and down his body. He held your arm against him then pulled you onto his lap. He reached for the keyboard and touched a button before turning his attention to you and took off his headphones.

“This is a nice surprise,” he held you gently as you settled. “I thought you were working.”

“I could say the same about you,” you returned.

“I took a little break to listen to some tracks and a few caught my ear. What’s going on?” he asked.

“Jan called. There’s interest in the script and one of the studios wants to meet on Friday. She’s going to book us a flight either for tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“That was quick. Told you they’d love it. You sure you want me to go with you? I’m looking like damaged goods lately,” he said.

You touched his face and noticed the chop job you’d done on his hair. “Diamond in the rough, maybe.” You leaned in to kiss his full lips. “Of course, I want you to come with me. No more than a couple days, remember? Plus, the hotel is across the street and there’s hella good shopping all within walking distance.” You were softly touching his face all over. “Do I have to twist your arm?”

“No, just making sure.”

“My sweet boy, I will always want you. I’ve always had your back, I’m not stopping now, so will you go with me? Did you have your heart set on driving to Texas? I promise your truck will be safe here.” You paused briefly, “We still can, I just didn’t want to rush.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he agreed. “I’m so proud of you.”

His warm hand went under your shirt and up your back, expertly unclasping your bra. You pulled the garment from your body through the arm hole of your shirt.

“You’ve done that more than once,” you noted, kissing him again and feeling his lips smile against yours.

“It hasn’t been worth it til now,” his hand covered your breast, kneading your soft flesh then moving to your nipple. “Have any other hidden rooms down here…with a bed?”

His voice had gotten deeper and quieter.

“I have a sofa in my office,” you offered.

“That’ll do.”

You sat at your desk, both working and waiting for Jan to get back to you with travel plans. You were still adding things to the script and tweaking scenes here and there when the email finally dropped in. Jensen was reading a book on the sofa. You couldn’t really see the cover from where you sat, but you thought it looked vaguely familiar.

“Time to get packed,” you told him.

He closed his book and said, “I think we can go to Texas from California. My truck will be fine here. What hotel’re we staying at, anyway?”

“The Beverly Wilshire,” you mumbled.

“The Beverly Wilshire?” he asked. Reveling in her suddenly shy demeanor.

“I’m gonna tell Jan to change to the London,” you blustered.

He sat up on the couch, “The one from Pretty Woman?”

“You know it is, jerk.”

“Nice hotel.”

“Yes it is.”

“Have you stayed there before?”

“Yes, I’ve been there before,” you told him, “For the romance movie deals.”

He got up and put the book back on the shelf and you saw he was near the section that held your Nova Scott and Ross Black books, but your mind was on other tasks and couldn’t see which one he put back. You didn’t want to assume he was reading anything other than Whiskey Hollow and let it go for the time being.

“Are we going to the mighty SooFoo tonight, or in the morning?”

“Tonight,” you answered. “Jan somehow managed to get us in with only a short layover in Denver.”

You left your office to go up to your room to pack what you would need for a few days and clothes for the meeting. 

Jensen stayed behind, waiting to make sure she had gotten all the way upstairs before he went back to the bookshelf and pulled off the book he’d been reading. It was the first time he’d seen it in a long time, not since he was on set with all of the cast members reading the first #1 seller for Nova Scott. He tucked it into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over to hide it. He thought he would bust it out on the airplane and take the consequences there rather than asking her to finally let him start reading them.