#so i assume that it was in / around the house

[kathleenkatmary]

This is really is not by any means new. When I was a kid in the 1990s and early 2000s, I thought my family was middle class because my parents said we were. It wasn't until I was in my 20s that I realizes we were 'lower class' and always had been. And talking to my parents helped me realize that their thought process around the thing was a messy melange that even they didn't really seem to understand. When we talked about things like how they accept money from the nuns at the school my mom taught at to be able to afford Christmas gifts for my and my brother more than once and there were times when we were in real danger of losing the house, there did seem to be a very real awareness that, no, this was not the experience of a middle class family.

But when I asked them why they always said and acted like they were middle class, I got a mishmash of explanations. The financial situation of my dad's family was much worse when he was a kid, so he figured anything better than that was a class upgrade, and while my mom's family's situation when she was a child was better than ours, she didn't see our situation as that much worse, so she just kind of saw it as being on the same level. We always had food on the table and we never "worried" about stuff like that, even though sometimes it meant taking charity from the people my mom worked with, so it didn't seem right to them to act like we were in the "same situation" as people who did have to regularly worry about food. They bought a house, however falling apart it was, so how could they be lower class? And there was a lot more of that, that sort of "well, we still had these necessities, even if we had to struggle for them, so we can't really put ourselves on the same level as people who did" mindset.

And I noticed that even though they didn't explicitly say it, there seemed to be a lot of shame associated with the idea of being lower class. Which I don't think would come to a surprise to anyone, especially for people who was around in the 1980s and 1990s. As much as that sentiment that poverty is a personal failing is still alive and well today, it was so prevalent back then. That idea that if you were poor, if you were lower class, it was entirely because of the decisions you made, your own failings. Can't pay your rent or mortgage? Well, what did you do wrong to put yourself in that position? Can't afford to keep your kids fed? God, you're such a bad parent, why don't you make better choices that put your kids first?

And I don't think that lumping in better off middle class people in with the upper class is new either. Resentment toward people with more has always been a thing. And when you do have so little and you are seeing things through that resentment, it can be really easy to look at someone who has so much more than you and not really see the distinction between them and someone who is truly wealthy.

This loose grasp of class definitions, people assuming themselves to be middle class when they're not, and not being able to see the distinctions in wealth is by no means a new thing that's only just starting to happen with the younger generations. It's always been around, I just think that the shape it's taken has shifted with the way the culture has shifted. But that sort of "I have a roof over my head and I can feed myself so I must be middle class" mindset and the "those people have a lot more than I do so they're just as bad as the billionaires who are actively ruining our lives" ideas aren't new at all. It at least goes back to the baby boomers, and really, considering the stark class divides of the early 20th century, I'd wager that it probably goes back even before them.

And that makes sense, because it's clearly proven to be an effective method of the ruling class.

Ive noticed recently that my generation has... no concept of what the various economic classes actually are anymore. I talk to my friends and they genuinely say things like "at least i can afford a middle class lifestyle with this job because i dont need a roommate for my one bedroom apartment" and its like... oughh

You guys, middle class doesnt mean "a stable enough rented roof over your head," it means "a house you bought, a nice car or two, the ability to support a family, and take days off and vacations every year with income to spare for retirement savings and rainy days." If all you have is a rented apartment without a roommate and a used car, you're lower class. That's lower class.

And i cant help but wonder if this is why you get kids on tumblr lumping in doctors and actors into their "eat the rich" rhetoric: economic amnesia has blinded you to what the class divides actually are. The real middle class lifestyle has become so unattainable within a system that relies upon its existence that theyve convinced you that those who can still reach it are the elites while your extreme couponing to afford your groceries is the new normal.

[giuseppe-yuki]

come over, baby!

rancher!oscar piastri x city girl!reader

w.c.: 4.3k

warnings: curse words, heavy allusions to sex, a little bit of ooc!oscar

summary: oscar sneaks you onto his family's ranch. it doesn't go as smoothly as he planned.

a/n: merry christmas to those who celebrate! :) i know i haven't uploaded a real fic in a hot sec so i decided to whip this up real quick!

picture credits from pinterest :)

your trusty mini cooper gives a sharp beep as it locks behind you. its taillights flashes bright, causing the branches of the surrounding eucalyptus trees to cast a looming shadow over you and the dusty road. once the lights dim into nothing, you glance around the dark dirt driveway that was apparently the entrance to your boyfriend’s family’s ranch, according to the text from him on your phone.

you let out a sigh- you could have easily been snuggled up in your bed in your college dorm, facetiming him on your phone, but no- he decided that you should become a top secret spy and drive two hours to his conveniently “close” family ranch at 9pm on a tuesday evening and sneak into his bedroom on the first floor because he felt clingy and wanted to see you “in-person.” 

it honestly only took a few “no one will knowwww!” and a sprinkle of “come on, baby, pleaseeeeee i want to see youuu!” until you found yourself tiptoeing down the pitch black driveway towards the looming two story family ranch house that was seemingly where your boyfriend was located for fall break. anything for love, you suppose.

you squint your eyes at your phone’s bright screen depicting a lengthy message depicting exactly where to “break in” under the contact name “osc 💕” . park underneath the line of trees outside the metal gates- check. sneak through the broken fence three posts next to the main gates- check. walk down the dirt road towards the main house- currently doing so. 

the ranch house is stunningly pretty, with a big patio that housed a few well-worn rocking chairs, a spattering of wildflowers all around, and a big oak tree with a tire swing framing the whole thing. if you weren’t currently on a mission to break into the house itself to see your boyfriend, you would have stayed to admire for awhile.

you locate the window that your boyfriend mentioned further down in the text- the second one on the left side of the house without a window screen (he broke it playing cricket when he was 12, he said). bingo. it honestly wasn’t that hard to find, considering it was only one with the lights on on the first floor. 

sliding your phone, the only light source that you had, into your pocket, you curve your fingers underneath the window pane and slowly slide it up, making sure to make zero noise. 

the first thing you see when you maneuver yourself all sneakily through the window of the quaint little ranch house’s first-floor bedroom is decidedly not your boyfriend, with his swoopy brown-gold hair and polite-cat smile. instead, a pretty young woman with brown shoulder length hair, cowboy boots, and a silver belt in one hand stops and gapes at you on her way to exit the room. 

shit. 

“w-w-who are you?” she asks shakily, shuffling around the bed in the middle of the room and extending the silver belt in front of her like a weapon. she gives the air a few experimental slashes as if telling you- back off, i have a weapon.

you start to rethink your decisions. this was oscar’s house…right?

scrambling out of your awkward position sprawled halfway the window, you scoot nervously away from the rather dangerous-looking belt before speaking. 

“er, hi,” you say in the most non-threatening tone you can muster up after breaking and entering what you assume is this random lady’s house at an inappropriate time of night. 

she doesn’t even give you a chance to explain that this was all a misunderstanding before she yanks the door next to her open and gets ready to, most likely, call the police on you. 

however, before she is able to bolt out the door, a familiar boy steps into view in the doorway. 

oscar.

he takes a second to take in the situation- you standing awkwardly like that meme of robert pattinson in the kitchen, and the woman holding out the silver belt towards you in a menacing way- before he jumps into action. 

“okay…hattie- i can explain,” he exclaims to the woman, slamming the door closed behind him. oscar runs up between you and the still-stunned hattie, which you assume is his sister. 

“do not tell mom, but it’s just my girlfriend, okay?” he pleads. then, looking at the belt in hattie’s hand, he wrinkles his brow. “-and is that my belt?”

hattie hides the belt behind her. 

“um…no?”

with a single eyebrow raise from oscar, hattie sighs exasperatedly. 

“fine, yes, it is. i came into your room to get it for my outfit tomorrow when i caught your-” she peers around oscar,  “‘girlfriend’ literally breaking into our house!” 

“okay, pause!” your boyfriend says, scooting over to the left a little bit to block hattie’s view of you next to the wide-open window. “first of all, why would you take my belt without asking? second of all, she is not breaking into the house if i invited her in first, and third, again, please don’t tell mom.” 

hattie stares at her brother for a second, then peers over his shoulder to look at you, before crossing her arms. “al-right. i won’t tell- only if you do my night duty stuff for the ranch and i get to keep the belt.” 

your boyfriend doesn’t even hesitate before spitting a quick “okay, fine” before shoving his sister out of the room. 

“fuck. you. i. am. never. doing. that. again!” you whisper-shout at oscar, repeatedly smacking him with the hoodie you stripped off moments ago. screw his puppy-dog eyes and his oddly cute bunny-rabbit smile- you were never trusting him again. 

he laughs between the soft smacks from your college-logoed hoodie and pulls you towards him on the bed, effectively halting your attacks.  

“come on, baby!” he drawls, wrapping his arms around you. “it’s fine!”

your hoodie is abandoned on the side as he slides you towards him. your head automatically slots into the crook of his neck like it was made to be there, and you practically melt into his warm body, effectively dissolving the bigger part of your embarrassment and anger away. 

even when you purposefully cross your arms and face away from him after the hug, oscar knows he has already won the way from the fact that you still crawl underneath his blankets with him like you both always did in your dorm back at college. 

he prods you with a finger when you both are snuggled half-way in the blankets and you know that you can’t turn around to face him or else he’s going to press kisses to your face and then your “i’m a bit pissed” facade will surely be broken. you stay back-towards him, but then, he pulls out the ultimate weaponized piece of knowledge that he knows: your ticklish spots. oscar jams his fingers into your side, giggling, and pokes you until you have no choice to squirm back towards him. 

the way you wriggle around the bed ends up with you slotted underneath him. oscar gazes down at you, head tilted. you blink back at him slowly, watching how his brown eyes follow your tongue as you lick your chapped lips.

“you know,” he whispers in that lilting australian accent of his, “this is more what i was thinking we could do when i told you to sneak over into my room.”

“yeah?” you say, teasingly. “well, i’ll be glad to recreate whatever you are thinking of.”

a shy grin spreads across his face, and he sits up to strip his old faded sleeping shirt off his body. 

you just about salivate, seeing the sight of what you have seen what seems to be hundreds of times- his slightly muscular chest dotted with a constellation of stars that you loved to trace- either during a soft night curled on your dorm room bed, or when you lay, spent, on his chest after a lust-filled night.

before you can stop yourself, you reach out on instinct to trace your fingernail down his torso.

just a millisecond before your finger makes contact with his skin, footsteps sound outside his shut door, and the doorknob rattles, resulting in both of you to snap your heads towards the sound.

with some unbelievable reaction time that should probably get him a seat in formula 1, oscar shoves you underneath his stupid blue bedspread, and throws a couple comforters over your covered body- just in case.

are. you. joking. 

you were never trusting oscar again. what the hell were you gonna say to his parents if they found you underneath his blankets? there’s no way in hell they were gonna be easily persuaded like his sister was with a simple belt. what were you going to say? 

oh, i’m sorry mrs. piastri, for  breaking into your son’s bedroom at 9pm on a tuesday night because your son was feeling a bit frisky. 

absolutely not. you would rather die. 

instead, you settle for freezing as still as you can underneath the pitch-black insides of oscar’s pile of blankets and wait for what just be your impending doom.

the door squeaks as it opens, and you hear the scuffling of house shoes, then a pause. 

the person entering the room speaks first. 

“oscar.” a pause. “who were you talking to? and what- what are you doing with your shirt off? why are you kind of sweaty?”

you clock it as a female parental-type voice, which confirms your suspicions that- fuck- it’s probably his mother. 

your boyfriend shuffles nervously above you.

“mum, what?? talking? i wasn’t talking to anyone- i was talking to myself! also, you can’t just, like, break into my bedroom!” he exclaims a little too quickly. “you have to, like, knock! that’s an invasion of privacy!”

“wow, okay, calm down, oscar!” the woman’s voice shoots back. “why are you so defensive? i just heard voices, and i thought- maybe someone had broke in?” 

another pause.

“were you having some…” she trails off. “some- special alone time? a bit of oscar’s happy time?”

oscar’s mother’s insinuations hit both you and your boyfriend at the same time, and you can’t help but clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh that was bubbling up in your throat.

your boyfriend lightly kicks you underneath the covers, which you could directly translate to shut up right now.

“special alone..?!” oscar stutters out, outraged. “no, mum, i was not having some special alone time! please! mum, i’m fine!”

“alright, alright,” his mother remarks, defeatedly. 

the scuffling sound heads towards the door, but stills before you can hear the door open. 

“by the way, your sister said that you were going to do her nighttime chores for her. i don’t know what kind of silly deal you guys struck up, but i expect it to be done by tomorrow, okay?” she adds.

“okay, okay, i got it, mum,” oscar replies hastily. 

“okey-dokey. goodnight, oscar!” his mother says brightly, before you hear the tell-tale sound of the door squeaking shut.

after oscar makes sure the door is completely closed and his mother’s footsteps have disappeared from his bedroom, he yanks his blankets off of you. 

the cool air flows over you, and you take a breath of fresh air. even if you only spent three minutes, tops, inside the stuffy blankets, it really felt like forever. you are sure your clothes are all rumpled from being squished underneath all that weight. 

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” your boyfriend repeats, grasping you and pecking a kiss to your cheek each time. “that was not part of the plan.”

“mhm,” you mutter back. you didn’t mind, honestly, you were just glad mrs. piastri didn’t notice the suspiciously college-girl shaped lump on her son’s bed. 

when oscar pulls off of you, he flashes you a devious grin. 

“you wanna..?” 

he uses his head to gesture towards the bed.

under normal circumstances, you would have thrown oscar to the bed and done multiple inappropriate things to him, but alas, 1) his mom coming in kind of killed the mood, 2) how could you, when his poor sister was likely, like, down the hall? and most importantly, 3) oscar had promised to do his sister’s chores, and you weren’t about to get mama piastri angry the next morning.

“oscar…” you say, trailing off. “don’t you have to do your, you know, chores?”

the gleam of mischievousness in your boyfriend’s eyes immediately falls flat, and his lips turn into a slight frown. 

letting out a rather exaggerated sigh, he slumps forward for a second before slinking towards the door. 

“leave my own mother to cockblock me…” he mutters, throwing on a black hoodie and green cap. 

you are about to let out a giggle, and pull him back on the bed for looking so cute being forlorn, but then, you realize, no, you have to be the voice of reason. 

“come on, oscar, i may be a city girl, but it can’t be that bad, right? i’ll be here all night!”

you are met with your boyfriend’s classic blank stare. 

“o-okay…what if…i went with you?” you suggest, reveling in the way that his gaze lights up.

“sneak out of the window, and meet me at the front of the house in 5,” he remarks, giving you a soft smile. 

what you expect to see at the front of the house is oscar with a shovel or whatever ranchers use to do their nightly chores, but instead, oscar waves at you from inside an entire fucking glowing atv. it has two seats, and entire mini flatbed trunk area, and to top it off, a covered clear canopy over the entire thing. and you thought the usual ranchers’ method of transportation was a freaking horse?? oscar’s family must have really modernized. 

you whisper a quick what-the-fuck before launching yourself into the atv next to your boyfriend. he flashes his usual bunny-rabbit smile at you, before fiddling with a few knobs on the front of the control panel. to your surprise, an entire heating unit starts blasting warm air towards you out of absolutely nowhere. 

huh??? when did atvs have heaters?? 

you don’t even have chance to formulate your thoughts before oscar starts revving the atv like he’s a freaking formula car driver and takes off into the darkness. 

even if you knew close to zero about being a rancher, you trail behind oscar to make sure he doesn’t half-ass his chores. the first task is checking the lights, which doesn’t seem too hard. 

your boyfriend basically speedruns around the barn that you arrive at, flicking at seemingly random places to turn on floodlights that surround the area. 

“for ‘safety’ reasons,” he had said when you asked. 

you take the time to do a 360 around the barn, noting the goats that glance at you curiously from their fenced off area outside in the chill night air. 

when oscar finishes sprinting around, he grasps your hand and leads you back towards the atv. 

“alright, back to my room!” he gasps breathlessly, as he starts the atv back up. 

your mind drifts to the poor goats outside. 

“er, oscar- are the goats supposed to be outside? i would think they deserve to be inside the barn, warm and toasty, no?”

your boyfriend freezes, hand halfway to the wheel. it’s obvious the cogs in his mind are turning. you blink at him once, before he groans and twists the key into the ‘off’ position for the atv. 

typically, you knew your boyfriend as someone who was really hard to irritate, but god, this was really doing a number on him.

oscar bolts toward the gated area that you saw earlier, and easily jumps the fence into the goat’s area. you can’t help but watch in wonder as he herds all the stubborn animals towards the barn’s entrance. most of the goats bleat at him once in annoyance before charging into the warmth of indoors, but you see a few stragglers still in the outdoor pen. a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you see a goat purposefully wedge itself between the fence and the water trough- just enough so oscar couldn’t reach him easily- leading to your boyfriend exclaim in frustration. 

it was funny- if you saw the shy, introverted oscar that was typically shown to others at the college that you both went to together, you were sure that they would have never guessed he was the type to get pissy, curse at goats, and shake his fist at the sky like an old grampa in the dark of night. 

while he was busy with the stubborn goat, you take the chance to climb over metal rungs of the fence and venture into the barn. it was quite cozy looking, with a thin layer of straw-like bedding covering the floor, round bales of hay lining the walls, and, of course, bunches of goats milling around. sitting on an overturned bucket, you watch as the cute goats settle down for the night, bleating happily. 

all of the sudden, a baby goat, (a kid, you find out they are called, later) runs up to you and nibbles at your sleeve. it’s quite adorable, the way it shoves its head under your hand, urging you to pet it. you comply, of course. 

it kind of reminds you of the way oscar often shoves his head under your hands during a long night study session. when he was almost at his breaking point, too tired to shove any more vocab words and formulas into his head, he would lie on you and beg for you to thread your hands into his hair and massage his head. oscar would probably go mental if he saw you give the baby goat treatment that was typically reserved for him.

speaking of the devil, the second your hand lands on the baby goat’s head, oscar storms in with the stubborn goat from earlier squished to his chest. half of your boyfriend’s pant leg is soaking wet, and judging from the way his eyes are drawn to the spot where your hand was softly petting the goat’s head, he was not too happy. 

“are you…okay, osc?” you ask, already knowing the answer. 

after gently letting the offending goat back towards its mates, oscar stands like the standing man emoji in front of you.

“i would like to go.” he responds, face completely deadpan. 

although the goats were pretty cute, you would pick oscar every time. lightly scooching away from the baby goat, you stand up and brush off the pieces of straw and dirt that it knocked into your lap. the goat, probably slightly peeved at the fact that you were leaving, decides to do a gravity defying (?) leap at the shelf behind you, which contained a small square block of hay. 

much to your amazement, the goat jumps off your bucket, and lands nicely on the shelf a good meter above you. 

“don’t you fucking dare,” oscar warns behind you, apparently already guessing the goat’s next step. he runs towards underneath the shelf and pushes you behind him, all the while keeping a eye on the goat as it steps closer and closer to the bale of hay.

it bleats, and pushes the hay with its nose.

the block explodes in midair, completely covering oscar.

for the second time in the day night, you fight to cover your laugh. the poor hay-covered oscar was just about trembling in anger. you hurriedly drag him towards the exit, all the while thanking the gods that what you thought was a darling little goat didn’t just squish your boyfriend.

“come on, baby,” you comfort, parroting the words he had said to you earlier in the night back to him. “it’s fine.”

he huffs, twisting the key of the atv, allowing the heater to effectively blast half of the hay on him straight into your face.

“oh my god, baby, are you okay?” oscar says, eyes wide. he quickly turns the heater down and brushes a few strands of hay off of your head. 

you pretend that you didn’t just feel a strand of hay go down your throat. 

“y-yeah, no problem,” you cough out. “we can just um, head back if that’s what you’d like.”

“right,” he affirms, voice going back to monotone. 

the atv rumbles quietly as he navigates back to the house.

trying to lighten up the mood and fill the awkward silence in the small space of the vehicle, oscar attempts to crack the world’s worst joke using his lust-craved brain. 

“after all that fiasco, i think i deserve the world’s best hea-”

before he can finish (hehe get it?), you cut him off, pointing outside to a potentially dangerous situation for his ranch’s chickens. 

“oscar,” you say pointedly, “i don’t want to burst your bubble, but was bringing the chickens in one of your sister’s chores? ‘cause they’re currently flapping around in an outdoor area, and i’m afraid there’s like foxes or something that are going to eat them.”

your boyfriend slams on the brake pedal, and peeks over your shoulder, confirming the worst news in his head right now- there was yet another job to be done. 

he just about flies out the vehicle, and before you know it, he has wedged himself into the chicken coop. if there is an award for the fastest time to shove like, 15 chickens inside the line of nesting boxes, he would definitely win first. it’s kind of an insane sight.  you even hear a few “get the fuck in,” which is decidedly out of character for oscar to ever say.

every chicken actually makes it indoors, and oscar doesn’t hesitate to slam the chicken coop door shut with a loud bang.

you wish you can say the actual ride back to the house isn’t tense, but then, you’d be lying. by the time oscar pulls up to the side of the house where the only window still has its lights on is the second one without a window screen, you can feel each breath that he takes thrumming its way into your core. 

he barely has a chance to shut off the atv before you cast a sly glance towards him. 

“do you wanna-” 

the way his brown eyes glaze over in want does all the answering for you.

all you know is that after spending an undisclosed amount of time inside of the atv fogging up the plastic cover of the vehicle, you both stumbled back through oscar’s stupid little window on the left side of the house, where you continued your little escapade within the confines of his bedroom. 

the first thing you realize when you wake up is oscar’s bare skin underneath yours. you’re tucked underneath his arm, and one of your legs is entwined with his. 

you shift in his arms, tilt your head, and use a little bit of force to launch yourself upwards to press a kiss on his cheek from your position wedged next to him. 

oscar mutters a “mmm,” with his eyes closed, but you can tell from the many times of waking up next to him that he’s obviously awake. 

poking his bare stomach with a finger, you giggle. 

“i know you’re awake, oscar.”

“nuh-uh,” he shoots back, eyes still closed, grasping your offending finger with his hand and holding your arm away from him.

you untuck your other hand from under the blanket, and move to boop his stomach again. 

however, before you are able to, the footsteps come to the door and the doorknob jiggles.

oh. my. fucking. god. not this again.

oscar, like the night before, strategically shoves you under his blankets roughly. 

this time, you wedge yourself in a way where you can see the doorway through a crack in the blankets before the door swings open.

a nice-looking woman with straight brown short hair and a white sweatshirt with big block letters that spell out, “y u k i” walks in. his mom, you suppose. behind her stands the girl you saw the day before, hattie, who has her hand clasped over her mouth, trying to stop her giggles from escaping. 

oscar’s mom speaks first, clasping her hands together. 

“good morning, oscar!” she exclaims, placing her hands on her hips. “did you want some breakfast?”

“er,” your boyfriend says, staying very still. 

then, you see oscar’s mom approaching you. 

she neatly pulls off the part of the blanket covering your head, effectively blinding you from the bright light from the window, while also turning you into the surface of the sun from the way your cheeks heat up from embarrassment of being exposed literally out of nowhere. 

“and maybe your girlfriend would like some breakfast too instead of being shoved underneath your dirty blankets?” 

when oscar doesn’t answer, his mother shakes her head and sighs. “wow, oscar, i thought i taught you better than treating guests this way.”

you wrap oscar’s blankets around you, thanking god that his mother had not decided to yank all the blankets off your entire body.

hattie decides this is the moment that she cannot hold her laugh anymore and flees the doorway. you can still hear her little giggles in the hallway.

your boyfriend stutters out angrily, “b-but hattie promised-”

“no, don’t ‘hattie’ me. she didn’t out you.” his mother states calmly. “i was a teen too, once. do you really think i wouldn’t see the footsteps in the mud? your giggling at 3am? the quite honestly- nasty- handprints on the fogged up atv plastic? also, the quite obvious lump that was on your bed-” 

she shakes her head, wagging a finger at her son.

turning to you, however, she brightens up significantly. “anyways, i don’t blame you a smidgen for oscar’s actions, darling. call me nicole. now, how would you like your toast and eggs?”

a/n: bonus points if you can recognize what movie + scene i referenced when mama piastri walks for the first time 🤭

[stellewriites]

simon is a he/him lesbian in this fic. he’s a gender nonconforming cis woman & prefers using a masc name and pronouns

huge thank you to woolie, birdy, gougie, báir & three for being so encouraging and helping me with this fic and to kitty for making all of my oc names as always :3

this is a love letter to butches <33

Riley (he/him), 31, female.

Looking for a roommate ASAP. DM for details, don’t fuck me about.

you’d found the post on an online forum asking for a roommate and hadn’t hesitated to reach out immediately when you saw you were in the same city. your current roommate was only a few weeks away from moving in with her boyfriend, which would leave you with an apartment you couldn’t afford on your own.

although the post left everything to the imagination, the options for roommates were slim pickings and the single room apartments on the market were no cheaper, meaning you were getting desperate.

after a brief back and forth online with riley, he explained that his own roommate was moving out which was why he was looking for someone new to fill the spot. the apartment was cheap for the area - not that he told you where it was- and you’d have your own bedroom but you’d share the living room and kitchen, there were two small bathrooms, and storage in the shallow loft since it was the top floor apartment.

standard stuff but it sounded perfect.

riley was a blunt texter, but you assumed he’d maybe had his fill of people messing him about so far and just wanted to get down to business and find a roommate before he was stuck in the same position as you; paying double rent for a place that wasn’t worth it, digging into savings to stay afloat.

after covering whether you smoked (quit last year), had any pets (allergic), or liked frequent house parties (too shy), he offered to meet up to go into more detail about the place and you’d jumped at the chance, naming a cafe you liked to frequent near your work.

you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting when you arrived and found a table near the window - or more accurately, what you’d been picturing riley to look like - but you’d had to school your features into something less flustered when a tall woman in a baggy hoody and a pair of black work out shorts walked in and bee-lined for your corner.

as he walked your eyes glued themselves to his nike shorts as they rose up his thighs, indecently tight, showing off the thick muscle covered in a smattering of soft, unshaven hair, light enough that it glistened in the afternoon light. as he got closer you noticed a smattering of scars leading up his shins to his knees and stretch marks curving around the inside of his thighs.

you felt the urge to reach out and touch when you felt the weight of his own gaze taking you in for the first time.

“riley?” you’d asked hesitantly, when you finally managed to lift your head up to face him, cheeks ablaze. beneath his hood you could see that the scars continued on his face; almost prominently one ran from mid chin through his lips and up his cheek, another, smaller but thicker, ran from his hairline to two inches down his forehead slightly off centre.

you were mesmerised.

“prefer simon,” he’d corrected but nodded, his voice lighter than you’d expected but thickly accented.

he pulled down his hood with a scant look around the cafe to reveal a short cropped haircut, a little shaggy at the top. he took the seat opposite you and you sat up straight when your knees bumped accidentally. you snatched your legs back beneath your chair and clenched your thighs tightly together as the warmth of his bare skin throbbed through your jeans.

christ what was wrong with you? you had the attention of one hot, tall butch and suddenly you were a bag of nerves and fumbling all over the place. get it together.

“oh! yeah ok, cool,” you said and tried to smile normally. “simon.”

“not what you were expecting?” he asked wryly.

“uhm, no,” you admitted with an embarrassed little huff. “not exactly; i don’t really know what i was expecting though to be fair.”

“want to back out? no ‘ard feelings,” simon offered indifferently. guarded.

“no! no, i’m still very interested,” you insisted, biting your cheek when he raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. “i ordered already, uhm. got here a little early after work so i figured why not? i just got you a latte, i should’ve maybe asked.”

you felt wrong footed in front of his confidence. his legs were spread wide beneath the table, feet planted on the outside of yours and suddenly this felt less like a first meeting for a roommate and instead like your ideal first date.

you looked over at the counter and tapped your leg impatiently when you couldn’t see your drinks.

“that’s nice of ya.”

“i wanted to make a good first impression if we’re gonna be roomies,” you joked.

“mm.” he looked you up and down. “you messy?”

“excuse me?”

“i like to keep the place clean. deal breaker if you’re messy, it’s why soap had to move out.”

“soap? i don’t— yeah, i’m clean. tidy. i can keep my shit tidy,” you insisted. a waitress brought your drinks over on a tray and you thanked her quietly.

he smiled. “good, then this should be fine.” his foot tapped yours under the table. “relax. you said you came here after work?”

“yeah, i work nearby. sales calls, nothing interesting,” you shrugged and took a big sip. “pay is shit, but it covers half of the bills. what about you?”

“construction,” he said simply and your eyes drifted without permission to his hands wrapped around his mug then up to his arms hidden beneath his hoody.

“nice,” you choked out, visions of simon in a sweaty tank top throwing back a sledge hammer, not at all helping with the heat on your face and between your legs. “long hours?”

“sometimes,” he conceded. “s’why i asked about parties. don’t need to be coming home from work to an ‘ouse full’a dick’eads.”

you snorted.

“i can promise no house parties. well, maybe one around my birthday but i mean does inviting four people around for pizza really count as a house party?”

simon squinted his eyes playfully. “guess i can allow a little leniency here and there.”

you grinned behind your cup.

“what about your own friends? they swing by often?”

“not if i can help it,” simon huffed, a smile pulling at his scarred lip as you chuffed a surprised laugh. “tend to go to gaz’s or price’s house if his bird in’t home.”

the idea of a bunch of lads around the flat wouldn’t have necessarily been a deal breaker, but it was a relief to know it wasn’t going to be often regardless.

the pair of you stayed long enough to order a second drink while you discussed rent prices, tenancy agreements, and simon showed you photos of the area it was in.

“can show you the place now if you don’t need to head home yet?” he’d offered. “not too far to walk from here. could get an idea of the place and see if it fits.”

you’d nodded eagerly and followed him a couple of blocks away to a cosy, hidden away flat near the centre of town. you were surprised it was as cheap as he’d said given the location, but when the water refused to get hot in the kitchen sink when he went to wash a singular mug you soon caught on.

“boiler goes every other month, but i know how to fix it,” he’d said with a sigh, popping the kettle on instead. “taps, radiators ‘n shower all go cold.”

you winced, but it wasn’t enough to put you off. “landlord refuses to get it sorted?”

“landlord doesn’t answer my texts or calls anymore, think he got pissy w’me after i complained about him doin’ fuck all about the single glazed windows to the council few winters back.” you pursed your lips in order to not laugh but simon saw your expression and shrugged unrepentant. “arsehole needed tellin’, di’nt he?”

“i think this place will be perfect,” you settled on saying. you looked out of the nearest window and noted the working locks; the traffic was loud outside but you’d always preferred the constant buzz to send you off to sleep, the few times you’d been camping you’d not slept a wink in the silence.

he told you about the few other residents and explained the shortcuts you could take to get to work or for the shops and by time simon had finished giving you the tour of the place - a deceptively long space towards the back, hiding its double bathroom and bedrooms - you’d noticed it had gotten dark outside. when he noticed your furtive glance however, simon offered to drive you home without a second thought.

and again, not thirty minutes later when you were about to climb out of his truck with one last deep breath of his cologne, he offered to help you move in next week.

if that works for you, he’d said.

you’d started packing as soon as you got inside.

the only issue with moving in with simon - an issue you’d only noticed after having lived together for 6 months already, an issue your friends had to point out to you - was that the dating pool in manchester suddenly seemed a little drab. a little pathetic.

“i really don’t think si has anything to do with the fact that i can’t find anyone i’m interested in when we go out anymore, i think it makes more sense that all the hot women are just no longer single now,” you’d laughed when your friend had suggested it.

sure you thought simon was insanely hot, and that opinion had only solidified after spending the last half a year with him; seeing him braless more often than not beneath his muscle shirts when he lounged around the flat on his off days, pressing closer than necessary after a shower when you tried to pass by in the hallway, working out in the living room grunting and groaning as he hit his push-up goal, sweating and stretching obscenely as you tried to keep your eyes respectfully locked on your phone or the tv.

you were well aware that simon was sexy but more importantly off limits, so you didn’t let it affect your dating life. or so you thought.

“doesn’t help that you barely come out on a night with us,” emma pouted. “even less now that you hang out with simon most evenings.”

“when was the last time you hooked up with someone? even just kissed someone?” ash asked before you could defend your lack of social life, their eyebrow raised as if to prove their point.

you sighed. it had been a while, and taking care of things by yourself wasn’t really working out too well. simon always seemed to come home just when the frustration peaked enough for you to grab your vibrator, and you knew from the girls he’d taken home in the first few months that the walls were in fact thin enough to hear everything. with gritted teeth and wet panties, you always had to put it back in your drawer and wait for another day for some ‘me time’.

quotas for no nut november were being accidentally exceeded so much so that you were heading into catholic nun absolution. it was almost mid may; you needed to find someone to break you out of your funk sooner than later. get over by getting under or whatever.

“we’re not trying to guilt you into coming out with us,” emma added kindly, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “we know you don’t always like the crowd and that’s fine. but we just want you to be getting the dick or pussy that you deserve.”

you snorted and rolled your eyes. “what do you suggest then?”

emma shared a look with ash. “well…”

it hadn’t taken much more convincing from your friends to set up an account for you on tinder after that.

you spent some time on your profile, trying to find the right blend of funny but not too snarky, sexy but still approachable. it was a nightmare but the thought of getting your tits kissed and played with by someone else after almost half a year was enough to keep you on track. you just needed to focus and get it done.

——

as you walked back to your flat with ash after grabbing lunch together, you flicked through the options in your area.

“oh, she’s cute!” ash scrolled through the photos before cackling. “she’s funny too, listen, ‘if you google top places to eat out in the city, i’m the number one spot. better make your reservation quick’.”

you laughed. “oh that’s bad, si would find that funny.”

ash sent you a deadpan stare before going back to the profile. “so swiping right?”

you hummed and glanced at the phone again. “i don’t know, i don’t think she’s my type.”

“the last ten profiles ‘haven’t been your type,’ admit you’re just being picky,” ash pointed out.

“i’ve got standards is all,” you huffed. “i’m not just going to say yes to everyone.”

“she was exactly what you normally go for; strong build, blonde and funny in a dumb way according to the bio, aka you catnip,” they said. “hell, i’m surprised she’s not one of your exes.”

“fuck you,” you laughed and elbowed them. “i don’t even have a type, i don’t know why i said that.”

“oh please,” ash guffawed. “i can and will list the many attributes your exes all share if i have to.”

you sent them a scathing look and they held up their hands in defeat, a smug smile ruining their supposedly conceding pose.

“the only outlier was that weird austrian that i told you not to give the time of day to,” they continued. their face crumpled into a look of disgust, nose wrinkled and eyes pained. “could tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he doesn’t wash his dick.”

you pouted and ground your teeth in a grimace, unable to disagree on any count. he was certainly a lapse in judgement, you wouldn’t deny it.

“i’m just not feeling it, ash. i don’t want to waste her time when i don’t see the attraction. it’s not fair on her.” you shrugged and took back your phone to swipe left. “maybe my type has changed.”

ash stayed quiet a moment, looking contemplative as you both continued walking.

“ok you have a point. there’s no need to waste people’s time, but - and hear me out - everyone on there is just treading water trying to figure out who they want to fuck. she might spend a week talking to you and then ghost,” ash explained.

“great, cheers for that,” you chuffed.

“you know what i mean,” they rolled their eyes. “everyone’s figuring out if they want to go on a date or jump in bed with each other on there, you’re not wasting anyone’s time by giving them a chance. let yourself be wooed.”

“‘wooed’, i’m not looking for a mr darcy,” you joked.

“then actually give these people a shot, it’s not like they’re looking for marriage either,” ash countered. “or maybe you’ve got a specific person in mind distracting you that you’re making unfair comparisons to.”

you glared as you entered the apartment building. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. you opened the app up again and bit your lip before swiping right on the first five profiles that appeared, showing your friend as you did. “there, happy?”

your phone buzzed and you looked down with wide eyes as all five accounts matched you back. the app directed you to the messaging centre and you looked at ash sheepishly.

“don’t you dare unmatch them,” they warned teasingly, pointing their finger at you with squinted eyes as you waited in the elevator. “go on a few dates and be spoiled for once. if nothing else, you get a good meal and some fresh air.”

you laughed as you finally reached your floor. you unlocked the door to your flat and dropped your coat on the back of a dining chair before slumping on the sofa with ash joining a second after sans their boots and coat.

“fine, fine. i’m on here for a reason, right? i might as well give them a chance,” you agreed a little reluctantly.

“give who a chance?” simon asked as he came from the back of the flat, passing through to the kitchen.

“my lovely bestie is finally on tinder,” ash said with a sharp grin aimed at simon. “hoping to find someone to fuck out the last six months of—“

“yeah thanks, ash! feel free to shut the fuck up, i don’t think simon cares about the details of my sex life,” you interrupted, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“no?” ash asked playing dumb. they pouted and turned back to simon. “my bad.”

you hadn’t noticed simon had grown reserved and quiet at ash’s outburst, too busy trying to save face and distract yourself with thinking of a decent opening message.

“and anyway, i’m just going a few dates first,” you corrected and looked at simon. “so don’t worry about me inviting anyone around to the flat or anything.”

simon nodded tersely before swallowing. “s’fine.” he looked shiftily over to the kitchen before moving to lean over the back of your seat, arms resting behind your head as he peered over your shoulder.

“show me,” he ordered softly. you shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck as he spoke and immediately opened the app again.

you chuffed an unimpressed laugh at the profile that popped up first. “‘want to surprise my boyfriend with a threesome for his birthday, any takers?’ jesus christ, the dating pool is so dire,” you whined.

simon chuckled behind you. “bloke looks like he’d barely be able to handle ya either, look at ‘im. he’d ruin his pants before you even took ya bra off.”

“at least i’d be able to concentrate on the girlfriend then,” you snickered along with him.

“nah, best you’d get from her is a bit o’ tongue for show,” simon said. “can tell by the profile ‘er heart’s not in it.”

you swiped left and simon was immediately ready to point out the failings of this profile too, and then again when you swiped left after laughing along, and again after that.

the way he leant over you blocked your friend from your view, but simon could see the knowing look ash was giving him directly in his peripheral, but he chose to ignore it. especially when he lowered one hand into your lap to start swiping left himself.

you let your free hand rise to play with simon’s long shirt sleeve before you suddenly took in his attire and frowned.

“why are you dressed for work?” you turned to sit on your knees facing the back of the sofa as he rose up to his full height to see him wearing his work trousers and steel-toe boots, his hi-vis vest tucked into his waistband.

“john rang, asked me to cover soap’s shift when he went home sick after lunch. i’ll be back from the lot later; might be late in the evening if i have to go grab a few things for ‘im from b&q before it closes for tomorrow,” he said, contrite.

you pouted heavy and exaggerated. “movie night’s cancelled? fuck you, john price.”

simon snorted, his scarred lip lifting at one side in obvious mirth. “i’ll tell ‘im y’said that, shall i?”

“fine with me, i’m not afraid of him,” you goaded.

“he’s ex military you know,” simon winced jokingly.

you rolled your eyes. “no duh. so are you.”

he hummed a low single note.

“and you wouldn’t let him touch a hair on my head, right si?” you continued shamelessly.

“i’d tell him there’s no point wasting time trying to teach you manners. any time i try to knock some sense into ya noggin it just echoes,” he huffed, holding back a smile as he tapped his knuckles on your crown for emphasis.

you swiped at his fist with a hiss.

“you can piss off to your job already then if you’re going to take the mick,” you laughed. you kept your hands to yourself otherwise, knowing better than to try and push him away after one too many failed attempts. his stomach was always firm enough to keep your best efforts from moving him, but topped with a thick and soft enough layer that it gave way beneath your prodding fingers and roaming palm.

“i’ll make it up t’ya. another night,” he promised lowly, bending down close again to whisper. as your pout lessened he nodded before heading out.

“wooow,” ash exaggerated and lengthened the word sarcastically as they sat watching you slump back to sit normally now that simon was gone. “it’s somehow worse than i thought.”

“hm?”

“does he always fold like a cheap suit when you flash the puppy dog eyes at him?” ash laughed.

“you’re seeing things, he literally just cancelled on me,” you argued and turned to the tv to channel surf. “are you staying for tea? think i’ve got the stuff in for a curry, could pirate that new horror with kyle gallner.”

ash rubbed at their chin. “don’t think i didn’t notice the subject change… but i’m listening.”

——

you got your movie night with si a few days later with the pair of you lounged on the couch, simon’s heavy, long legs draped across your lap as you waited for the take out you’d ordered to arrive.

your phone buzzed with a notification and simon perked up. “food here?”

you took a moment to respond, looking at your phone and tapping away for a second before shaking your head. “no, just a message.”

you phone buzzed again just before you could put it back down and you unlocked it again with a growing smile.

“oh, ‘s emma asking about dog sittin’ again?” he guessed.

“it’s not emma,” you said easily, without further detail, distracted by your phone.

before simon could ask, a knock at the door had him swinging his legs down and heading to grab the bag of food. he grabbed some cutlery from the kitchen on the way back before slumping heavily down next to you, spreading his thighs wide enough to press against yours.

he frowned when he saw you were still engrossed in your phone, a little secretive smile pulling at your lips. at the smell of the food you looked up and your eyes brightened, you put your phone back on the table and ignored it when it buzzed, helping simon instead, sitting back when you had your share and pressing play on your movie. when the phone buzzed twice more in quick succession you bit your lip and glanced at it.

“answer it,” simon said bitingly, having figured out who’d be messaging you by that point. the stupid, bloody app. “but tell ‘em you’re busy with a woman already.”

your eyes widened and you coughed out a surprised laugh. “si.”

“tell ‘em you’re not hanging out with ‘em next week either, you can’t make it. you’re busy with me instead,” he continued, the weight of his hooded gaze heavy and stifling.

“but i’m not busy, we don’t have plans next week,” you said weakly, confused.

simon huffed heavily through his nose. you’d almost think it was bordering on angry but for the entire time you’d known him, simon had never gotten angry at you, even when you accidentally shrunk his brand new sports bra on a too-hot wash.

you both tensed when your phone buzzed again.

“let me turn off my notifications,” you said and reached for the phone furtively. you skimmed your notifications and felt something bloom in your chest at the mention of a date from one of your matches, but you didn’t mention it to simon. “there we go, now we can focus on movie night,” you said with a grin, scooping another forkful of sweet & sour chicken into your mouth.

simon’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. he looked to your half empty glass and stood up. “want me to grab you another drink?”

you smiled, mouth closed and cheeks full of rice, and nodded as he chuckled. he turned away before the urge to poke your puffy cheeks won out and you accidentally spat rice out on the rug.

——

>> any new matches? 👀👀👀

you pursed your lips as you read the text from emma.

<< a few. might have a date next week

<< depends if she plays her cards right

>> lol is it the librarian or the electrician?

<< electrician. might give me mates rates if i ask her to check out the faulty leccy wiring in the flat :p

>> more like dates rates ;)

>> she was cute 😍 where’s the date?

<< she mentioned getting dinner, a new place that just opened up that she said was meant to be cool

>> the thai place? omgggg i’ve been meaning to go! give me ur review after pls and ty

>> and i mean the food, but any dirty deets are welcome too 👀👀

<< ???

<< i haven’t agreed to go yet

>> 🙄 girl…

>> what happened to giving them a chance, ash said you were on board

<< idk si was acting really weird the other day

<< he got really moody about it all, practically told me to fob it all off and just hang out with him instead

<< i think he’s worried

you had been watching a few murder documentaries lately, and one too many of them had started off as innocent dates or first meet ups that ended in tragedy.

>> i think he’s jealous

you stared at the text as your stomach flipped.

<< ???

>> he’s literallyyyy had a huge crush on u since forever

>> this is not news 😐

you scoffed but felt your stomach clench and hesitated to text back.

>> don’t believe me? just watch how he acts around you over the next few days and see if he does any of these repeatedly

emma sent a screenshot from a website listing ‘things she does if she likes you’ and you snorted. it felt trivial, like you were a teenager again, but you decided to play along.

<< fine. but he won’t.

you sent your quick affirmative back before putting your phone down and finishing your break.

the idea of simon liking you was an impossible one in your mind. simon had brought home women from the moment you’d moved in, it had never been a deterrent and he’d always said you were welcome to do the same as long as they didn’t stick around when he had a day off.

recently though, you thought, there’d been less and less women traipsing out of si’s room giggling and flushed, staring adoringly up at the tall butch woman. sadly, you knew exactly how good simon was in bed from the enthusiastic sounds of his previous partners over the months, so you couldn’t blame them for tripping over their feet as they were ushered towards the exit, an eager ‘call me, yeah?’ breathed out just before the door was closed forever.

that was another reason you’d never made a move. even if sometimes there had been moments where you had thought simon’s gaze lingered too long or his touch couldn’t be excused as just friendly; you couldn’t take being a one night stand. not with him, and not when you’d have to move out when your feelings inevitably bubbled over.

you bit your lip as you cooked that evening. simon was chopping the veg for your bolognese as you were left to watch over the pasta - last time you’d burnt it when you’d turned away and gotten distracted and you refused to let simon hold that over you for any longer.

“you know i can go stay at ash’s or with emma and her partner for a day or two if you want,” you offered out of the blue.

simon stopped cutting and looked at you.

“why the fuck would i want tha’?”

you swallowed. “i just noticed you haven’t had many people ‘round recently and thought maybe it was because i was home,” you said, barely meeting his eyes. “so i can make myself sparse for a few days, it’s no bother. i don’t mind.”

“i had johnny over just the other day,” simon said as though you might have forgotten. the boisterous scot had managed to fondly wiggle his way into gaining your friendship the few times he’d popped by for simon. “and gaz and the lads are all coming by next week. y’dont need t’ leave.” he went back to chopping though much more forcefully now, the chopping board dully thumping with each downward cut he made through the courgette.

“yeah… but what about other visitors?” you hedged. “the walls are thin, si, so i thought maybe you’d want the place to yourself again temporarily so you can—“

“no. i don’t want the place to m’self. i like havin’ you here, like hearing you move around in the night and in the mornings,” he interrupted without looking up. “you stay.” he paused for a moment, doubting himself even as you nodded along. “unless you want to go?”

“god no! no, i just thought i should offer,” you laughed a little awkwardly.

he frowned deeper.

“do you want me to go?”

you paused, you mouth flapping like a fish. this was an option you’d not considered. you noticed simon’s eyes grow more and more desperate, his grip on the veg in front of him tightening as he waited for your response.

“no. never, si,” you said.

he watched you a moment more before nodding. “good. wouldn’t have anyway.”

you snorted a laugh and looked back to the spaghetti, hissing when you saw it had stuck to the bottom of the pan. “shit.”

“…tell me you haven’t managed to burn it a second time.”

——

your conversation with simon reminded you of the article emma had sent you. it took less than a week to notice how differently simon acted with others in comparison to how considerate he was with you.

he made the effort to hold eye contact at the start of your conversations, and if you ever paused too long in your reply his eyes would flicker back up from where they’d drifted to his food or phone to check why. you’d never doubted he was always listening, but seeing it first hand reassured you that he was without fail. and it only highlighted, now that you looked for it, how closely he kept to himself when strangers tried to pick up a conversation with him, how he used as few words as possible on the off chance he did reply.

you wouldn’t hesitate to consider simon tactile, soft-handed and gentle. but you knew that was a privilege. the same with his smiles, spotted in flash of crooked teeth or the slow crinkle of his dark eyes paired with the pull of his scar on the occasion he wore his mask.

at your realisation, you began to check the list religiously each night in the safety of your bed as though trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t noticed the way simon mirrored your own behaviour. how he’d lean opposite you in the small kitchen, tilting his head a second after yours as you complained about work, boiling the kettle for a cuppa after a long day.

you’d pretend not to notice him on the phone twenty minutes later, cancelling going out with his friends, again, so he could stay with you while you relax for the weekend.

you found he’d swapped the brand of peanut butter you usually bought after the last one gave you a tummy ache without mentioning it, he’d asked about your grandad’s birthday even though you’d brought it up offhandedly weeks before, he let you run your hands through his hair near his scar when he napped on the sofa. the list went on.

but you’d already agreed to that date with the electrician.

——

“i don’t know if i’ve come down with something, my stomachs not right. i don’t think think i should go,” you complained as you got ready for your date, your phone propped up on your dresser with ash and emma’s faces on screen as you video called. “i feel queasy.”

“that’s just the nerves, you’ll be ok once you get there,” emma soothed.

“want us to meet you afterwards?” ash asked.

“maybe, yeah,” you hummed. “or maybe call me an hour in just in case it isn’t going well so i can have an excuse to leave?”

“how does ‘your long lost brother just woke from a coma and you’re the only one he remembers’ sound?” ash asked.

“dramatic enough for me to make my escape,” you laughed.

“you won’t need it,” emma reassured. “you’ll be too busy flirting and fawning over her muscles to even answer the phone.”

you laughed harder and the ache in your stomach faded ever so slightly as you pulled on your shoes and got ready to leave. simon was still at work, pulling some extra hours to get the job back on schedule after johnny’s time off, which meant the flat was empty as you left.

you bit your lip and headed to the restaurant, waving shyly from the entrance when you saw jessi, the electrician, already seated and waiting on you.

“hey, been here long?” you asked as you took your seat.

“barely five minutes,” she reassured you with an easy smile. “you look stunning, by the way. worth the wait.”

you thanked her, and took in her styled hair and half unbuttoned dress shirt from across the table. you felt a little underdressed in comparison but hid your insecurity when you smiled at her across the table.

“are you always this shy?” she asked when you stayed silent a beat too long, her grin turning sly and teasing.

you laughed a little self depreciatingly and shrugged. “it’s been a little while since i went on a date,” you admitted, butterflies starting to flutter at her sharp gaze.

“i’ll go easy on you then,” she promised and winked before handing you a menu. “what looks good to you?”

——

you’d thought the date was going fine, good, even. the thought of leaving hadn’t crossed your mind and when emma had called you’d screened it and smiled at the winky face she’d sent a moment later.

jessi was fun to talk to; her humour was maybe a little more forced than what you liked but it wasn’t a deal breaker. you’d thought she was enjoying herself too given the flirtatious comments, the lingering looks and how her ankle kept brushing yours.

but just before you could suggest ordering desserts, she stood and grabbed her coat.

“this has been…” she trailed off. “maybe you’re not ready for dating, you know?”

she’d dropped a few twenty notes on the table and left before you could ask what the fuck that meant.

you called over the waiter, covered the rest of the bill and made your own downtrodden exit soon after, dessert suddenly not seeming so appetising.

“tell me you’re going to her house to stay the night and that this is a safety call,” ash said as soon as they answered.

you huffed a sarcastic laugh. “nope.” you popped the ‘p’ and scuffed your toe along the pavement as you walked.

“fuck, this isn’t a good sign then. no dessert?” you heard emma mumble in the background.

“put me on speaker if you two are still hanging out,” you said and hugged your thin jacket tighter with your free arm as you started heading down the dark street towards your apartment.

“how’d it go?” emma asked a moment later.

“i thought it was going good,” you whined. “she was nice, we were chatting, i was engaging! but she just… left?”

“what were you chatting about?” ash asked.

“just the basics; work, friends, hobbies, roommates,” you listed.

“oh god,” emma groaned on the other end of the line. you heard her voice become muffled as though her face was in a pillow as she grumbled, “you didn’t.”

“what?” you asked with a frown. “it was good, she was being flirty.”

“yeah no shit, it was a date,” ash snorted. “how many times did simon come up?”

“don’t start this again—“

“because you were literally talking about him other day when we walked by a black and white cat just because it had little ‘socks’ and it reminded you to do laundry when you got back.”

“i promised to do simon’s while he’s been picking up extra hours,” you defended yourself. “he literally had to walk around shirtless the other week when i forgot to add them in for him.”

“oh, the grown woman who can and often does do his own washing just had to walk around with just a flimsy little sports bra and boxers on all day? sure, sure.” you could practically hear ash roll their eyes. emma snickered in the background and there was a slight shuffling which was never a good sign. “yep, here it is. and i quote ‘the way he’s built… like a damn chew toy. need to sink my teeth in to him, it’s like my jaw buzzes every time i see him with the urge to clamp down on his bicep.’ those are your texts to our group chat from that same day.”

“the texts i send when im ovulating should never be repeated out loud,” you hissed. “and do we really need more evidence that he’s synonymous with my wet dreams now, i’ve already admitted that i like him.”

“so you know this is a safe space,” ash said facetiously. “answer the question: how many times do you think you managed to bring him up in conversation?”

you chewed your cheek in frustration. ash would know if you lied but thinking back on it you didn’t really want to admit how many times you managed to bring up simon for your own dignity.

“look they had the same boots on, ok? and when she talked about her work it was the only way i could try to relate if i told her how simon had mentioned the same things,” you reasoned.

ash cackled on the other end of the phone and suddenly emma was talking while their laughter grew faded.

“have you looked at that list i sent you?” she asked, her tone oddly low and sobering.

“yeah, i can’t stop thinking about it,” you huffed. you paused to cross the street. “but it feels like i’m just making them up because i like him and he’s just being a normal roommate.”

“you’re not and he’s definitely not,” emma chuffed. “and i think you know that too.”

you were silent as you walked, your steps slow and careful even as the bitter cold wind snapped at your cheeks.

“he likes me?” you asked softly.

“no duh,” ash’s voice rang from the background making you laugh. they got closer and you could picture your friends crammed on emma’s shitty little couch as they spoke to you. “why do you think he’s always walking around flexing his muscles like that, huh? we’re in manchester, i don’t care if it’s almost summer, it’s not bloody warm enough for it!”

“and simon has you as his lock screen,” emma added like a 1-2 punch before you had chance to try and explain any of it away. “he always cancels on his mates to see you instead, and don’t get me started on how touchy he is with you.”

“he’s tactile…” even as you said it you didn’t believe it. though you couldn’t keep count of how many times this week alone si had let a warm hand land on your shoulder, knee, back, wrist, neck; you knew he barely touched anyone else.

"girl. simon?" emma snorted probably thinking the same thing as you.

“he likes me,” you said more confidently into the phone.

“oh thank fuck, she’s finally caught on,” ash said as emma laughed.

“i could literally be swapping spit with him right now and instead i’ve just wasted like two hours on a shitty date, oh my god,” you bemoaned.

you don’t know when you’d stopped walking but in a second you were speeding up to a jog as you said goodbye to your friends and hung up, fumbling to put your phone in you bag. eager to get back home and to see simon.

——

you crammed your key into the front door’s lock when you got home and groaned exaggeratedly when it didn’t turn. simon must’ve left his key in the door, again. of all the bloody times.

you knocked hurriedly, loudly, impatiently.

“siiiimon, open the door, come on i’m cold out here, you wouldn’t leave me shivering and lonely just because you forgot to put your key on the keyhook i specifically bought for—“ you cut off your joking whine when the most stunningly beautiful woman you’d ever seen opened the door to you, a knowing smile on her plush lips.

“oh,” you croaked. almost reflexively, your throat closed up and your eyes started to sting. “i must have the wrong flat.”

“what? no, you’re—” her smile dropped slightly and her dark eyes grew curious, but you didn’t stick around long enough to see.

“sorry, my fault! i’m meant to be on the floor above,” you rushed out and pretended to laugh. “silly me. sorry again.” tucking tail you turned to the fire exit at the top of the small staircase without waiting for a reply.

you knew the short staircase lead to the roof, simon had shown you one time and there were enough signs pointing it out. on the other side of the door was a small, flat balcony that stuck out of the slanted roof, and had old metal ladders that dropped 3/4 of the way down along the side of the building, in between the detached restaurant next door.

given you were the top flat in this little rinkydink building the woman at your door had probably thought you were an idiot and you couldn’t blame her. you decided to stick it out for ten minutes outside before sneaking back down and heading over to emma’s with your heart in your hands ready to be mended with the power of friendship and alcohol and food.

you sat down on the shitty little balcony and groaned loudly, desperately holding back your tears lest you fell into a despair and ended up accidentally falling asleep out of exhaustion and dramatics up there instead.

you’d finally realised your feelings and it was too late; simon had clearly taken your previous offers on board and moved on. you’d given him a free night while you went on a stupid date, what else was he going to do since you’ve been continually - though not purposely - pushing him aside like he was disposable.

“fuck,” you sighed shakily.

“date that bad you’re thinking of jumping?”

you swore in surprise and span in your spot to see simon leant in the fire exit doorway.

you couldn’t help but huff a weak laugh. “yeah it was,” you said before looking back down to your hands. “sorry, i didn’t know you were busy or i’d have gone to a friend’s instead.”

simon frowned and stood up straight. “stop saying you want to go somewhere else,” he said stiffly, swallowing thickly before taking the few steps to sit next to you. “when i’m here.” he knocked your shoulders together. “gaz said you freaked out at the door?”

you looked up at him in confusion. “gaz? that was ky— she’s called kylie, not kyle isn’t she?” you asked with wide eyes. simon’s accent had hidden her real name and convinced you all his mates were men and you’d never thought to second guess it. “christ, i thought she was— never mind.”

simon tilted his head as a knowing smile grew on his face.

“you thought i’d brought someone round for a shag?”

“well, she’s very fucking gorgeous,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. he leant his weight further into your side.

“mm. haven’t noticed.” at your unimpressed look he shrugged. “got my eye on someone else, ‘aven’t i?”

you nodded but avoided his eyes. seeing an unknown woman answer your door - gaz or not - had knocked your confidence more than you’d have liked to admit.

simon snorted.

“talk t’me, thought i was meant to be the quiet, brooding one.”

you looked across at him for a moment before leaning in to hug him tightly. you let the scent of his aftershave soak in and sighed when his own arms automatically wrapped around you too.

“you’re an amazing friend, si,” you whispered. and with how close you were pressed together, you easily felt how he stiffened at the title. you squeezed him harder in response, garnering yourself some more confidence at the same time, and sucked in a cold breath to speak. “and i think i’m a little bit in love with you.”

you felt a whoosh of air against your neck as the breath left simon’s body; he went loose in your hold and you buried your head deeper into his shoulder.

he tried to catch your eyes, ducking his head as best he could, but you’d thoroughly tucked yourself in against him as you felt a stinging heat spread from your cheeks outwards, your heart kicking its way through your chest and likely thumping noticeably against his own.

with gentle and patient cajoling, he managed to nudge you back up to face him and you offered up a wobbly smile.

“are you serious?” he asked breathlessly.

you nodded. “i’m sorry it took me so long to reali—“

simon coughed out a wet and surprised laugh and pulled you in for a kiss, his scar catching against your dry lips before you were able to slip your tongue out to wet them briefly. his hands were firm as they cupped your round cheeks, not letting you break for a breath until the very last second, determined to take all he could get before it came crashing down on him.

“y’r an idiot, so fuckin into ya. been a nightmare living with you, unable t’touch,” he mumbled against your lips and suddenly it was your turn to laugh into the kiss.

“unable? all you do is touch me,” you giggled, gasping when he took the chance to flick his tongue against yours.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you huffed. “drives me mad, si.”

“only gonna get worse here on,” he promised. “never taking my hands off ya, off your fat arse and soft tits.”

you sucked in a shaky breath. “fuck.” you’d be dripping like a tap at all times if that was the case and going by simon’s smirk, he knew it.

“i’ve had to deal with your dumb mate fucking teasing me about liking ya for months now too,” he grumbled.

“they’re not dumb.” you leant in to bite his lip meanly. “and i’m sure your friends will be teasing me for what just happened too, never mind me being so blind to be on dating apps while we were practically already together.”

simon groaned. “i fucking hated those apps.”

you kissed him sweetly in apology, a soft peck to the lips then each cheek as he greedily chased your lips.

“they’re gone now. my date was ruined because i could only talk about you the whole time. all i want is you.”

“yeah?” his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as he tugged your jacket openand slid a hand under your shirt. his rough fingertips teased at the thin material of your bra and your nipples stood to attention under his ministrations and from the chill of fresh air biting at your tummy, bared when his arm rumpled your shirt. “want me right now?”

“always,” you panted. “but…”

you furtively glanced to the door.

“no one comes up here. i can be quick.”

“your friends are waiting,” you reminded him.

“fuck my friends,” he scoffed and tweaked at a nipple, grinning at the squeak you let out.

“would rather fuck you,” you joked weakly even as he pulled his hand back to pluck at your jean’s button and zipper.

“then what are we waiting for?” he asked.

you moaned and gasped when he slipped his hand down the front gusset of your jeans and into your panties before you gained the cognisance to pull it back out with a groan. “later, later,” you promised. “wanna get you naked.”

simon stared at you for a second and you worried he was annoyed at you for putting your foot down. he nodded however, licked his lips as he glanced back to the door and then dipped down to kiss you lightly.

“i’m kicking the lads out then, gimme five.” he stood and took few broad strides to get back to the stairs inside.

you laughed and called after him as he darted back down, taking two at a time as you followed with a grin, struggling with your jeans. “si, don’t be daft.”

“smartest move i’ve made in a long time.” he said as he walked back in to your flat. “everyone out. want some time wiv my girl.”

“ayy congrats!” soap called from the couch.

“that means now, soap.”

“don’t hafta tell us twice,” the scot stood with a slap to his knees and saluted simon on his way out. “ye coming, ky?”

“it was nice meeting ya,” gaz said as she wandered past, winking. you hid your hot cheeks in your shoulders but couldn’t help the flustered grin that spread as simon barely waited for the door to be closed before shedding his shirt, leaving him in a sports bra and his baggy trackies.

“get comfy. not letting ya leave til i’ve had m’fill.”

“funny you think it won’t be me dragging you back for more. let’s see if you can keep up, si. i’ve been told i’m pretty demanding.”

“always loved a challenge.”

you grinned wickedly. “come and get me then.”

updated mood board below (kept working on it after seeing kitty’s absolutely fantastic oc mood board and felt inspired by them!)

[jensthwa]

a very show & tell christmas (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

It's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first Christmas as a couple but not your first one together. As he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

PAIRING: mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: stablished relationship, holidays special!

WORD COUNT: 7k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI), mingi's pov, a loooot of fluff and love talk, pet names (love, my love, babe), mistletoe kisses, heart felt gifts, messy kisses, mingi and reader briefly discuss something that i've come to learn is called sweater fetish but i don't know if the scene counts as that but just letting you know, oral sex (f receiving), reader asks mingi to 'use' her, hard but romantic sex, unprotected sex (booo, wrap it up please), marriage discussion at the end omg?

NOTES: happy holidays everyone! I've been wanting to write mingi's perspective of everything that went down in s&t for a while so I took the chance to write it for the holidays because what better time to reminisce about everything you've ever lived than december am I right? [nervous chuckle]. I hope you're having a wonderful month and i hope next year treats you even better! THIS IS PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH SERIES BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 25th 2024.

Mingi remembers the first time he saw you like it was yesterday. It's an image so vivid, so impactful in his life that there's no way he could ever, ever forget. 

He was playing soccer on the street, with two friends who moved away that same year and he doesn't really remember them all that well now. He kicked the ball so hard it landed in your yard as you were doing something else. Playing with dirt? He doesn't really remember, you might've been but it didn't matter because it was also the first time he realized he could fall in love.

Granted, he didn't fall in love immediately. He was, after all, just a fourteen year old boy and he didn't understand those feelings just yet. It was that transitional period of a kid’s life where the desire to connect with someone else was strong but definitely not a priority. 

Besides, he didn't realize, until many years had gone by, that the first time that he saw you and he felt time stop, he also saw a life with you: the five seconds it took for the ball to roll over to your feet after almost punching you in the face and he sort of assumed you were going to be in his life forever. 

And you are going to be in his life forever. In one way or another, but he promised you that forever a while ago, in his head, in his dreams and in the way he cares about you, for you. In the way his heart hurts when you're not around, when you two fight. In the way his heart sings when he kisses you, the way it dances and beats against his chest when you smile at him, because of him, around him. 

And when he hears you laugh? Pfft. He melts at the sound. 

He's melting even now, after being officially together a little over a year, as you laugh with your mom and his mom while decorating the Christmas tree at his house. 

Well, not decorating it exactly. You three went shopping earlier today and somehow your mom convinced his mom that the old ornaments did not go with the living room aesthetic anymore and she bought new ones for them. 

The only ones that are old now, that the redecorating party is finishing with the tree, are the ones you and him have shared over the years. 

The one you got at fifteen, that resembles a snow globe with two snowmans inside of it, holding hands and with your names engraved in wood underneath it. The one he got at seventeen that's a little simpler but you say it's your favorite: two gingerbread cookies holding a heart sign with your initials in it, one of the cookies kissing the other’s cheek. 

You two have been alternating years of getting each other ornaments and deciding which house they're staying at. This year, however, you went for a different approach to the tradition. Each of you painted an ornament, a traditional one, with something festive that alludes to one another. 

He, seeing that you've been talking snoopy for half a year, tried his best to paint the character on top of his dog house, decorated by Christmas lights and with a red ribbon to tie it to the tree that illuminates your living room up the street. 

Now, he watches carefully as you hang near the other ornaments, the one you hand painted to look like a chicken. Initially, you tried to convince him it was a penguin but it can't possibly be. It's more yellow than black or white and even if you tried to tell him it's a specific type of penguin you saw in happy feet there's nothing that indicates that it's not a chicken.

“Oh, well, it fits him.” His mother says at your explanation, hugging your mother tightly as she fondly watches you hang the ornament up. You turn around when you finish, tongue out at him childishly. 

He pretends to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and getting up to playfully tug at the tongue you're sticking out to him still “Mom, you're supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am!” She defends herself, smiling like she's totally not on his side. “It does look a little bit like you, dear. Even your little mole here.” 

You take the opportunity to press on your tippy toes and kiss the mole his mom is pointing out, only to get more aws from them. 

“I win.” You whisper to him, proud of yourself and he can't help but smile at you as you pull away. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you. It was the first time he called you by his favorite endearment: love. 

He remembers the ice cream shop you both were at, he remembers the conversation being more of a confession that you had a crush on a friend of his, he remembers the guy serving the ice cream complaining about the fridge hardly working and he remembers the blush on your cheeks as you admitted to want to be called love because…

“That's what good boyfriend's do,” you said, ice cream on your fingers that you quickly wipe away with an already sticky napkin, “So we're going to get together and I'm going to be called love from that moment on.” 

He knew you were talking about his friend but his heart skipped a beat anyway. He had to focus on what you were telling him, not on the pretty smile you gave him or the relief he felt when he realized the one thing that would lead you straight (or not so straight) to disappointment. 

His friend was a very proud but not that  out gay man. 

But Mingi decided to not mess with it, he always let you fight your battles alone if those battles ended up with you learning a lesson and without a scratch, anyway. 

“Good luck with that, love.” 

“Ugh, no, you don't get to call me that!” 

The nickname stuck either way. Even if, at the time, he pushed those feelings down deep inside of him. 

Because you were his love, but you were also his best friend ever and he was just a dude. A boy, even. 

He didn't know better and so, eventually, you got a boyfriend. Great dude, worshipped you like you deserved and all.

Mingi remembers the way he felt when you told him you loved Han. He hated the guy, hated the way he made you smile, hated the fact that he trusted him of all people because, well, there was and there will never be someone who loves you more than Mingi. 

Han thought he was the one, you didn't. But even after breaking up with Han, Mingi stood still. He understood his feelings, his protectiveness over you, as something platonic. But he didn't really have time to think about it with your head on his chest, on his bed, over the sheets and with the door wide open because it was a school night after all. 

School night meant no sleepovers, but his mom didn't ask you to leave when she saw you with tears in your eyes at their front door. Mingi didn't ask you to leave as you soaked his sweatshirt with said tears, either. 

“I don't know why I did it, Mingi. I don't… He did nothing wrong.” 

“You said you felt he was not the one.” 

Your regretful eyes looked up at him “But what if he was?” 

“He's not,” he whispered back to you and, at the time, he didn't know why. He had no reason to tell you Han wasn't the one for you, but his subconscious knew things he didn't accept back then. “You wouldn't be doubting it at all if he was, love.” 

You ended up sleeping over that night, door wide open still, your mom texting him when she couldn't reach you on the phone. 

He helped you through that breakup, just like you helped him with his first breakup as well. 

He helped you mend your own wounds, he saw you grow stronger after the pain went away, he felt proud of you when you started showing up to your first uni parties without him having to convince you to go. 

Mingi remembers the first time he realized he wanted to kiss you. You two were laying under the stars, a little hazy and on a rooftop you definitely shouldn't be up in. 

That probably wasn't the actual first time he wanted to kiss you, just the first time he admitted it to himself. Your friends were on the rooftop as well, dancing around, yelling, being silly, just as drunk as you two were or worse but, for a moment, it was quiet. Now that he thinks back to it, he probably imagined it. 

The noise quieting down, that is. 

Mingi remembers that he had turned to you to ask what you thought was going on but your eyes were closed. He remembers the breath he took in as he traced the side of your face with his eyes, carefully, like the staring alone would get you out of whatever peace you were enjoying at the moment.

Have your lips always been so perfect and inviting? He answered himself immediately: Yes, of course they are perfect, she's perfect. 

He doesn't really know how he didn't realize it right then and there. When his heart soared at the thought of it, of disturbing your peace only to kiss you. 

And then the noise came back, laughing and screeching and something alarming came out of Jongho’s mouth. 

“Shit, shit. Security!”

You opened our eyes and found him already staring at you. He should've felt embarrassed to be caught, but you smiled at him before rushing to your feet, offering your hand and shaking it for him to take it. 

“Can you get up or should I stay and be escorted out with you?” 

No one got caught that night except, maybe, his heart. 

Because he realized he loved you around a week after that, as he saw you do the most mundane task ever: washing your teeth in front of your bathroom sink, still trying to rant about something that pissed you off in one of your classes. He remembers pressing his shoulder against the doorframe and looking at your and your frown through the mirror. He also remembers the frantic beat of his heart as he realized he wanted to do just this with you every day of his life. 

Going to bed together, waking up next to you and listening to you rant about things you're going to forget the next day. He never wanted that with anyone else, only you. 

You, you, you. He got so lovesick the next year after that he tried desperately to cover it up. With different activities, with people kissing his neck at parties after dancing for a while, with anything and everything that could distract him from the fact that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you. 

Not because he didn't want to explore but because every single time he tried to say something, the words would die down under the weight of years of friendship and loyal companionship. 

He couldn't lose you, he didn't even know how to make sure you liked him back! 

And so the yearning got unbearable enough for everyone in your friend group to notice it, except for, well, you. 

“At some point you have to tell her about it, right?” 

No one in the group presses on things. Woo and Gyuri (Woo’s ex girlfriend who, somehow, is still his friend and everyone's friend as well) maybe, but when it comes to matters of the heart, they let everyone be. So it surprised him when Seonghwa, of all people, spoke on it. 

“You can't keep looking at her like that from a distance and waiting for it to pass, Mingi. It's not going to pass.” 

He remembers sighing and then giving you one more glance before turning to his friend.

“She probably doesn't feel the same.” 

“Who cares? You're never going to find out keeping it to yourself.” Seonghwa gave him a tiny smile before bumping his shoulder against his, both teasingly and reassuring. “Besides, she loves you too much to allow some romantic feelings to get in the way. Just… Think about it, yeah? Not forcing you here,” he shrugged, “but we all do, kind of, maybe, want you two to kiss.” 

Snorting a laugh, Mingi remembers shaking his head no and then thinking about it for, at least, three months after that before actually making a move. 

He remembers feeling humiliated by one of his attempts to put his feelings for you to rest, he remembers confiding in you and your friends, he remembers when you agreed to tell him how to make it right the next time he slept with anyone else. He doesn't really remember asking you to show him. 

His mind disconnected after he saw the blush painting your cheeks beautifully, his heart took over him when he kneeled in front of you to kiss you that first time, when he allowed himself to give in and touch you like he had wanted to for so long. 

And then the days and the months blended so gracefully after that summer that he doesn't really recall when the weather started getting cold, just that the color of the snow contrasts against your winter coat when you both go outside after having Christmas dinner at his house, with both your parents and his present. 

They were friends before, but now? They see each other more than you two. 

Well, that's a lie, but almost. And, like all best friends do when spending the holidays together, they get lost in good conversation and company, in a bubble made out of wine and laughter, cozy enough that it allows you and Mingi to slip out of his house hand in hand easily. 

You have a little smile as you look around the street like you don't know the houses you pass on the way to yours. He wants to indulge you, but the words slip out his mouth without even thinking about it. 

“Am I walking you home because you wanted to change into something more comfortable or because you want to give me an additional Christmas gift, love?” 

“Stop ruining it! You know I'm not good at hiding things,” you click your tongue, pretending to be disappointed and kick the snow with your boot when you stop and pull him close, “We haven't got alone time in forever.” 

“Two days,” he says with a nod, arms going around you and head going down to kiss your lips tenderly for a quick second, “Three, if we count today.” 

You pout “That's like… A lifetime.” 

“I know,” he gives in, chuckling against your lips, “I'm going through withdrawal symptoms and all.” 

He watches as you close your eyes and lean in. He gets ready for it, inhaling cold air that hits his lungs as a reminder where you two are, what he's allowed to enjoy in public, and closes his eyes as he waits for your kiss that never comes. 

Instead, your nose nuzzles his softly, barely nudging the skin and you take a step back, taking his gloved hand and intertwining it with yours “I also may or may not have a gift for you.” 

Smiling in victory, Mingi fakes an annoyed gasp “I knew it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you're so smart,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and entering your front yard without letting go of him. “Hurry, I'm freezing!” 

“This was your idea, love.” He deadpans but hurries anyways and afterwards, as the warmth of the foyer allows him to shrug off his coat and leave it in its designated spot by the door, he laughs at your clear enthusiasm. 

You're already shoeless, coatless, gloveless and scarfless and waiting at the third step of the stairs, impatiently blinking at him as a signal to hurry up, again. And when goes upstairs with you, you make him promise to keep his eyes closed as he walks towards your room. 

“You're too tall, I can't cover them with my hands so promise, Song Mingi.” 

“My eyes are literally closed!” 

He hears a door open. It has that creaking sound the door to your room has and when the smell of your perfume hits him as you press your hands to his chest to stop him, he doesn't have to open his eyes to know where he is. He knows his way around these halls anyway. 

You turn him, so that his back is probably facing your room, and then instruct: 

“Look up and open your eyes.” 

Mistletoe. That's what he sees when he opens his eyes: mistletoe that is badly tape to your door frame, just above him. It makes him smile and then the best friend in him takes over when he looks down at you and your blushed cheeks. 

“Love… That's so chees—” 

“Just kiss me, you idiot.” 

And he does. He lifts you up from the floor and you bury your fingers in his hair before securing your legs around his waist and he walks the room he knows like the back of his hand until he reaches the bed. He doesn't sit down or puts you down yet, lazily opening your mouth with his tongue when you sigh against him. 

“Wait— Mm,” you speak against his mouth, words silenced by his eager tongue a second later. He has to physically throw his head back to stop himself from kissing you further, but when his eyes return to his face, his will almost falters. “That was not the gift.” 

“Okay.” He breathes out, smiling. 

“Sit on the floor.”

He does and the carpet is soft under his fidgeting hands as he watches you move around the room. You go into your closet (literally, you disappear behind the closed doors) and when you come back with a large box he blinks a few times in astonishment.

Huge box, really. It almost doesn't fit the space between you when you sit down in front of him and glance at him excitedly, a shy color to your voice when you speak again “Open it!” 

There's no way he can help the smile that curves his lips when he opens the box and finds an assortment of handmade things. Yes, the ornament that you made may have looked like something else entirely, but he starts to believe you made it on purpose when he pulls out the first gift: a bouquet made out of candy, his favorite sweets. 

“This is beautiful, love…” 

He lets out a chuckle when you steal one immediately and he promises to dig into it once he goes through all the gifts. 

There's a box with a card underneath that he goes to pick up but you stop him with a trembling hand “Save that one for last.” And he notices you're a little bit nervous, so he does, his own heart skipping at what might've inside the box, a similar yet smaller one weighing on the pocket of the coat he left downstairs. 

The other things left on the box are a few bills in the shape of hearts and a wooden sphere that he finds out, seconds later, it's a picture museum. 

“I couldn't fit every important picture we took together in a regular shaped box so I had to get this one.” You explain as he looks at the inside of the sphere. It looks like a miniature museum and Mingi feels like crying a little, so he takes your hand in his and gives it a kiss to ground himself “They're in chronological order, too, I had to consult the ancient texts to get them all right!” 

He laughs, confused “The ancient texts?” 

“Yes, my Instagram story archive.” You return, nodding and he gives your hand another kiss before letting it go to set down the museum next to the bills and the bouquet.

You let out a shaky breath when he returns his attention to the box and picks it up. You pick up the card. 

“Before you open it, let me read this to you.” 

“Of course,” he returns softly and takes the trembling hand you're extending in his direction. 

“First of all, look at how cute this is,” you turn the card and inside of it, it's decorated with kisses. Your kisses. Mingi would recognize them anywhere and he tries to take the card from you but you bat his hand away with it. “Later, let me read this to you. Um… 

“Dear Mingi,” he giggles at the formality of your tone and then forces himself to stop at the look you give him. “Dear Mingi,” you start again, “I don't have a way with words and I've re-written this letter a thousand times but I think I have come to terms with the fact that there are no words invented, no language discovered, that can accurately immortalize my feelings for you. The love I hold for you transcends everything and everyone, every concept ever created and every new idea future generations come up with. And, as I try to come up with a joke that can give this overdone confession any lightness, I have also come to terms with the fact that you're it for me. I already knew this, of course,” you laugh and he has to laugh a little, heartbeat on his throat and eyes full of tears and all, “I already knew how much I loved you. Platonically, romantically, it all has just blended into one because it doesn't really matter how I loved you, it just matters that I have the opportunity to do so, my love. I love you.” 

When your eyes catch his, the tears are already wetting his cheeks. 

“And now what didn't fit in the letter, because I chose this tiny ass card,” you laugh again, eyes already wet even though he can see you're telling yourself not to cry. “Our first Christmas together was the time I realized I wanted you in my life forever. It just felt right, like we belonged somehow and we do, Mingi. So I— Open the box.” You quickly say and when he does, the whole thing falls apart. 

Kind of. 

When he pulls the rope tied in a bow at the top and the sides fall he makes a noise of surprise that makes you laugh.

The sides have more pictures of you two and in the middle of the box there's another tiny box that he opens to find a necklace. 

With a ring that could fit him as its charm and a silver chain that's not too delicate but not too rough, just like the one he uses on a daily basis. 

The ring has your initials engraved on the inside and his initials engraved on the outside. He lets out a sob that prompts your tears to flow freely down your face and he catches you wiping them.

“I didn't want to give you this with the rest of your gifts this morning because, well, I'm shy and—” 

“You are not shy.” He speaks over you, wiping his tears. 

“And I didn't want our parents to scream marriage at us. I don't want to scream marriage at you either, my love,” you say before he gets any ideas. And it did cross his mind a second ago, but he's far from terrified of it. “But I wanted you to have something to remember me by, with our initials in it, as a token of how much I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't even know what to say. 

“A lot. I love you a lot, if you couldn't tell.” You add and he laughs and manages to scoot around the box of gifts to wrap his arms around your frame. You laugh into the skin of his neck, hugging him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, his lips close to your ear and his heart beating fast still. When he pulls back, you try to give him a kiss and he stops you, which prompts a confused look on your side. “You know that they say that overtime couples start to think alike?” 

“Look alike,” you correct with a tilt of your head and he gives you a look, so you backtrack, smiling. “No, yeah, couples start to think alike.” You nod and then let out a noise in protest of him getting up. 

He points his finger at you “Wait here.” 

And then he bolts downstairs, to his coat. 

It really does say something about you two, about the way your minds sync up at most needed time. Because as he enters your room, box in hand and knees hitting the carpet in front of you, he can tell you got his point immediately. 

“I'm not screaming marriage at you yet, love and I also didn't get you a letter or a chain to go with it, but—” He hands you the box and lets you open it, head immediately trying to paint into his memory the way you gasp at the ring, the way you take it delicately into your hands and examine it with care. “But I bought this months ago, in that antique shop you like so much because it reminded me of you and how could it not? Do you see how beautiful it is?”

It sparkles under your bedroom light, but he can see it from a distance: all the delicate details that make it look like there's two hands holding the pearl in the middle. In a way, it looks like two hands holding a heart. 

Just like you hold his heart. 

“As a token of your much I love you, Y/N.” 

You pout as he takes the ring and puts it on your finger. 

“You can't just steal my speech, Song Min—” 

He kisses you again. He can't not kiss you, he can't help but get you into your arms and thank you for choosing the ground to present your gift because he's anything but careful as he stands up, drags you with him, and sits on the bed with you on top of him. 

“Shit, hold on—” 

“Hm?” There's concern in the way your eyebrows crease and Mingi gets briefly distracted by how kissed out and breathless you look for a second before reaching for the floor. 

“My necklace,” he explains, reaching for the box and successfully getting it in his hand without having to take you off his lap. “Put it on for me, love?” 

“So you liked it?” You ask nonchalantly as you take the necklace, legs opening a bit more so that you're sitting further into his lap.

“You literally made me cry, Y/N. Tears,” he says, making a face that you catch before closing the clasp behind his neck. 

“Of joy?” You return in a whisper, eyes so sweet and smile so shy it makes him want to cry all over again. 

“I love you.” He says instead of answering the question, lips touching yours again, softly, wanting, forgetting you don't have a lot of time before your parents wonder where you went. 

There's no way careful thoughts can get through the fog your sighs against him create, in the way your teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip and pull until he's moaning, the sting of pain passing by as your tongue caresses his. 

You've been getting a little bold lately, the nature of your encounters is always passionate but, somewhat, normal. Mingi loves every second you decide to give yourself to him but he also fucking loves when you do shit you like. 

Like taking control of the kiss, pulling his hair so his head can fall back and you can slowly make it messier, sloppier, even after the sweet moment you two just shared. 

Hands start to roam freely and, by the time you pull on his hair to detach your mouth from his fully, he's already breathless and hard against the fabric of his pants, mouth wet with shared spit. 

He's sure his pupils are blown, he's sure he's red on the face and fucked out already. He knows his expression mirrors yours as you take him, and the necklace, in, eyes scanning his frame before you roll your hips against him. 

He moans pathetically. 

You smile at the sound. 

“Like anything you see?” He tries to tease you to no avail. 

“You look so hot like this…” The hand tangled in his hair moves and he closes his eyes to welcome the feeling of your nails softly digging into his skin as they make their way into his neck, over the necklace and the ring resting against his collarbone. 

“With the necklace on?” 

“And the sweater.” 

He glances at his beige sweater with an arched brown and then he looks at your sweater, a warmer tone of beige than his, the neck a little high but not high enough to be considered a turtle neck, with the same expression. 

He puts the pieces together and then scoffs out an impressed laugh. 

“Where did you learn this kink, love?” 

“It's not a kink,” you defend yourself immediately, laughing when he looks at you like he doesn't believe it and then he leans in again, peppering your jaw with slow, open mouth kisses, “I just saw a video the other day and…” 

“And?” He encourages you with a shift of his hips of his own, gaining a curse that slips past your lips. 

“And then I saw you today in this.” The palm of your hand slips from his neck and into the fabric of the sweater, thumb passing over his nipple with purpose. He hisses in response. “So… We could leave it on, hm? What do you think?” 

He raises an eyebrow, trying to bite his smile back “What did they do in the video, love?”

“Oh,” you giggle into his shoulder as he kisses every inch of skin available to him, “it was a homemade video. I don’t watch anything super produced, you know that. They, uhm… Fuck, babe,” he licks his way up the side of your neck, successfully making you melt against him. “She was looking at her phone and he was eating her out,” you manage to get out. “And then she got on her stomach, legs straight a-and closed while he fucked her. Used her, kinda.” He pulls back at that, both intrigued and wanting to see if that’s what you actually want. 

“Used her to get off?” 

You nod and he leans in, nose brushing yours. 

“Is that what you want me to do with you?” 

“After you get me off,” you whisper back, smiling without any shame at your request “yeah.”

Mingi takes his time to think about it. On purpose, letting the tension linger as he presses both palms against the mattress, leaning back just enough so you can catch him checking you out unapologetically. Truth being told, his dick is twitching in his pants at the thought of helping you explore. This has always been your dynamic in bed: exploring, searching, discovering new things that make you wet, researching new ways of making you come and there’s nothing that gets him off more than the idea of you getting away with what you want. 

Even if that means sweating the fabric of this expensive sweater through. It’s okay, he has a washing machine. The way you wait for an answer, with eyes so bright and expectant, makes him bite his lip in return. 

Yeah, there’s nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you. 

He also knows you enjoy this. 

The anticipation. The teasing, the way his hand returns to your legs and slides the material of the sweater up slightly, only to neglect the idea a second after and, instead, turning his hand and letting his knuckles brush against the fabric of it deliberately, with laced intention into the touch even though his expression remains pensive at the proposal. 

A proposal he accepted, like, the second after you said it outloud. 

“Do you know how much I love your tits, love?” 

You let out a sigh as your answer and one look at you is enough to encourage him to keep going. Knuckles brushing upwards, he catches your firm nipple through the fabric. It's a little hard to do; considering you're probably wearing two layers underneath to shield you from the December cold; but he manages and you let out a needy whine. 

“Do you know how much I love you if I’m going to fuck you without taking one look at them?” 

Damn. He doesn’t really mean for his voice to sound so raspy but it does and the way your lips curve in mischief let’s him know that you catch it for what it really means: He’s so lost in it, in the sensual bickering, that he can’t help but show how affected he is, one way or another. 

And then there’s the urgency of getting on with it because you don’t know how much time you get alone, until someone calls your phone and asks for you or until your parents get tired of the wine and come back home. 

So it really does happen in a flash when you grab the collar of his sweater and smash his lips against yours with need, with a newfound spark that excites him. He practically rushes to take your bottoms off, to slide down until they pool at his ankles, to turn on the bed until you’re laying on your back and his mouth is marking your inner thighs, adding new color to the bruises already lingering there. 

You’re twitching under his touch and he has to press your hips down to keep you still when he takes your panties off and dives into your folds. Usually, he would be prepping you to make a mess. You teached him how to make you squirt months ago, the day before you officially got together and he has had the pleasure of making you see stars since then. 

Today, there’s not enough time. 

So he wastes no time in devouring you like he knows you like it. Your leg thrown over his shoulder, the sweater and the shirt underneath rising just enough for him to thrust his hips against the bed at the image of your skin. 

You try to keep it down, he sees you trying to contain yourself and under any other circumstances, he would scold you for depriving him of the sounds you make. But this time around, the view edges him. He wonders briefly what other scenarios he can propose to have you gulping down your moans, to make you gasp for air after pressing the palm of your own hand over your mouth so no more whines slip out of your lips.

He doubles his efforts, just to see you trying to contain yourself and failing to do so, again. It makes you double your efforts as well, probably just to spite him as you thrust your hips and chase your high, but it doesn't bother him. 

If anything, it makes him harder than ever. The way you ride his face, the tongue that flattens out and then curves around your clit and your conviction falters, hips falling still at the way he sucks into your sensitive nub. Your hand in his hair pulls a little and the sting of pain almost makes him come untouched. 

Chuckling into your heat, Mingi catches the exact moment your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels your limbs locking, he tastes your release when your orgasm hits you, he helps you ride out the sensation while pleased moans fill the room. 

And, usually, he would kiss his way up to your lips. He could right now too, over the sweater, the idea of the fuzzy material mixing with your orgasm it's tempting but he remembers you have to see people after this as well. 

He remembers he doesn't have much time. 

And your words are ringing on the back of his head when his mouth latches onto yours again, when you moan after tasting yourself on his tongue. 

He pulls away to silently ask the question: Do you want to keep going? 

You nod, nose nuzzling his briefly before he turns you around. Harshly, like he knows you like it. He sees you grasp the comforter and a pillow between your fingers when he sinks himself into your wet heat, he hears the muffled cry when he adjusts a little and when you close your legs to lie flatly on the bed and in-between his, he all but sees stars at the feeling. 

You're not tight. That's good, that's a sign that you're comfortable with him, trusting of him, a sign that you want you. This position makes it a snug fit, though, and when you purposefully squeeze around him he presses on his hands on your lower back with a groan.

“S-stop stalling, baby, we're running out of ti— Fuck, Mingi!” 

Pulling out and then slamming his hips back down with measured force, he marvels in the feeling of you genuinely squeezing around him, out of pleasure and not to tease him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, forehead connecting with the soft material of the sweater when he leans over you, on your shoulder and smiles when you moan at the way he picks up the pace. 

“Yes, yes, yes, f-fuck,” you mumble in response, head turning and breath fawning on his cheek that you attempt to kiss a second later, so he complies and turns his head to kiss you sweetly, a complete contrast of the way he's thrusting into you.

He falters when he notices just how hard he is going but your hand shoots back, attempts to grab his hip and your head shakes in disapproval. 

“Don't stop,” you ask, breathless, eyes scanning his face to see if he's not into this but he assumes you don't find that because he is into it, “use me, my love. That's what I want.” 

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He leans back up, hands finding a secure spot on your hips and uses you like you asked. He’s hardly the one to seek his own relief so soon. He likes to take his time with you, even when you don’t have much, and that means making you come undone at least twice before he even allows his dick to be touched, but now? 

With how turned on he is? With how full of love he is for you? 

He remembers the time, the years he didn’t allow himself to see you in nothing but platonic light. He remembers the feeling of your lips on his for the first time, he remembers the love you professed to him today and the way you make him feel so wanted, so adored, so—

“Oh— fuck.” 

His pace falters, his orgasm so close he’s unable to keep chasing for it with the same measured force he was using before. 

“Yes, Mingi,” you encourage, somehow managing to move your body upwards, meeting his own, “don’t stop, baby, please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

He vaguely registers himself moaning, babbling nonsense as his movements pick back up. He hears your voice distantly, like he’s underwater, like the way you tell him to come inside of him and that you love him it’s what’s pulling him back up. 

And when he releases inside of you, his ears ring slightly and his forehead meets your back, eyes closed and chest heaving. He feels his heartbeat on his throat, he feels your heartbeat on your back and its rhythm matches his beautifully. 

No one says anything for a few minutes where you both try and recover from the intensity of what you just did. Something new, something that leaves you both exhausted and he can see it on your sleepy and content smile when he pulls out and you turn around, not giving a fuck that you’re bedding is probably going to get sticky with his cum. 

He throws himself besides you and your nose touches his cheek immediately. 

“That was…” 

“So good,” you say and he hugs you close, breath still ragged, “and we should definitely look into sweater fetish or whatever it’s called. I think you enjoyed it more than me.” 

He gasps in feign offense. 

“Stop projecting, love.” 

“Am not—”

“Yes, you are,” he sing-songs back and you weakly hit his arm with your fist. You don’t say anything afterwards and Mingi stops staring at the stars in your ceiling to look at you. 

You’re staring at your ring. He smiles, all the emotions that your words brought to him coming right back. 

“I want to marry you, Y/N.” 

He says it without really thinking it through. He doesn’t regret it even when you look up at him with a little panic behind your eyes. 

“Now?” 

He laughs “Someday,” shrugging, his lips connect with your hairline and you sigh, snuggling up to him a bit more “There’s going to be two more rings that I’m going to give to you and only you.” 

“Good thing you got my ring size right.” 

Your joke makes him laugh and you lean up against his chest a bit to look at him. 

“I’m going to say yes, Mingi,” you whisper and he melts against the pillow, his hand on your cheek a second later. He sees your eyes go down to the ring on his necklace and the smile that brings to your lips makes his heart pick up again.  “And then I’m going to show off my ring to everyone and I’m going to be insufferable as a wife. I hope you’re ready.” 

You fall back down on his chest, cheek just above the beating of his heart and eyes closed. The smile lingers on your lips and, as he brushes your hair back with his hand and smooths his hand under your sweater, he can’t help but smile back.

“I don’t want it any other way, love.” 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH and happy holidays! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Nuisance - Ryomen Sukuna ✧

Synopsis: *Human!Sukuna* While hanging out with your boyfriend, Ryomen, his little brother wanders out of his room.

*Not Proof Read*

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something about the King of Curses and this prompt came to mind. I hope you guys enjoy it cause I loved writing about baby Yuji. Also, something like this is in the works for Dad!Gojo and Son!Megumi.

Warnings:None

Word Count: 1.5k

You have been chilling in Ryomen’s room for hours now. Since it was a weekend and you both didn’t have any classes, you found yourself resting in his bed while he played relentlessly on his video game. You had been passing the time by scrolling on your phone, but it became so repetitive, you ultimately gave up on trying to find something interesting to watch. Stretching in Ryo’s bed, you let out a grunt and lifted yourself from his mattress. He didn’t seem to notice your movement as you got up and strolled behind him. He had his headphones on and occasionally he would blurt out some phrase that sounded like gibberish to you.

Quietly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick kiss to his cheek, but as you began to walk to the door, you were whipped around and stuck in between Ryomen’s legs. He had taken his headset off and stared up at you with questioning eyes,”Where are you going?” You smirked, leaning down and placing a slow kiss to his lips,”Just down stairs, I’m hungry.” He hummed to your words, kneading the flesh of the back of your thighs,��Can you bring me some water?” Nodding, you gave him one last kiss,”Of course.”

With that he let you go, not without slapping your ass on your way out. You flipped him off playfully, smiling as his deep chuckled echoed out. You headed down the hallway, humming a small song under your breath as you walked to the kitchen. When you first met Ryo, you were expecting his small home to be trashed and flooded with dirty dishes, but to your surprise it was quite the opposite. He had a comfortable two bedroom, one bathroom, house that was practically becoming your second home. You weren’t sure who told him that keeping a fresh home attracts a lady, but it definitely works. He had plenty of good-smelling candles and each section of the home was spotless.

You wandered into the kitchen, opening the cupboards to find his stockpile of snacks. Finally, you found a bag of chips and set them on the counter. Moving to his refrigerator, you smirked at the photo stuck to the front with a magnet. It showed you and Ryomen standing in front of a Christmas light show and you were kissing his cheek. He’s such a softie. Opening the fridge, you frowned at the scarce amount of options. Energy drinks,condiments,barely any sandwich meat and eggs. You really needed to go grocery shopping with him. Shockingly, he had bottled water in the bottom.

As you reached for it, you heard a door open in the back room and assumed Ryomen was finished with his game. You stood, turning with the water in hand, but the person behind you was not Ryomen at all. Well he did look exactly like him, just a lot younger. A little boy that shared Ryomen’s light pink hair and dark hazel eyes. He clearly had just woken up, because his hair was messy and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Looking up, his eyes shone in pure wonder,”Who are you?”

You giggled, bending down to meet his level, he couldn't be any older than five,”Hey little guy,” you cooed,”I’m Ryomen’s girlfriend. What’s your name?” He pointed to himself,”I’m Yuji,” then pointed back to you,”You’re the one my older brother keeps talking about.” You raised your brows in interest,”He does? Well what does he say?” The little boy beamed at your question,”He says you’re really pretty.”

You giggled at his words,”Aw, that’s sweet of him.” He nodded along, then let out a yawn. You tilted your head, very happy to be talking to Ryomen’s adorable little brother,”Did you just wake up?” He let out a cute ‘mhm’ and you glanced at the hallway,”How come Ryomen hasn’t told me anything about you?” He gave a small shrug,”I don’t know,” You stood to your full height and gestured to the hall,”Well do you wanna go say hi to him?”

He nodded excitedly and just as you were about to lead the way, Yuji lifted both of his hands, making a small grabbing motion. You were sure this boy was going to be the death of you. Not wanting to let him down, you grabbed under his armpit, and lifted him off the ground. Setting him on your hip, you examined his features,”Aren’t you the cutest thing.” You booped his nose and he let out a small giggle,”When Ryo told me about you, I knew you were a good person.”

You smiled,”Thank you Yuji, I think you’re a good person too.” You ruffled his fluffy hair and Yuji clung to your shoulder, hugging you tightly. He’s kinda like a koala. You carried the boy to Ryomen’s door, completely forgetting the items you were supposed to bring back. Turning the handle, you stood in the doorway, pausing to put a finger to your lips and face Yuji. He gave a nod of understanding and you faced Ryomen, who was still playing his game.

“Ryo,” You called, making the man pause his game and begin to turn in his chair. As he removed his headphones,he had a small smile on his face,”I was wondering when you would get back-“ His smile dropped at the sight before him,”Where do you find him?” You rolled your eyes, setting the boy down,”You’re acting like he’s a stray.” Yuji ran right to his brother and climbed onto his lap. While Ryomen looks upset, he still allowed Yuji to stand on his thigh and stare in awe at his game’s visuals.

“He was supposed to be sleeping.” Ryomen claimed, you nodded,”Yeah, he walked out when I was grabbing the stuff and said some things.” He raised a brow, glancing at his little brother,”Like what?” There was a bit of annoyance in his tone, but you walked over, waving his suspension away,”Nothing bad, but how come I’ve never heard of this cutie?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms,”He’s anything but cute. His face is so annoying.” You raised a brow,”You guys have the exact same face.” He rolled his eyes,”Quit lying.” You giggled quietly, loving how moody the man was. Ryomen poked the boy's side, making him squeal,”I have told you about him, he’s just never around when you’re here.” You frowned,”Aw, that means I won’t be able to see him often.” Ryomen sighed,”Our parents are off on vacation and they didn’t want to pay for a babysitter so they dropped him off here,”

Yuji climbed down from Ryomen’s legs and grabbed your hand, pulling you down to the floor,”But what about during the weekdays? You don’t leave him here do you?” Ryomen gave you an unimpressed look,”No. of course I don’t. There’s a preschool close to here and I just drop him off before I go to class.” You hummed to his words, liking his response,”You’re pretty responsible Ryo.”

“Obviously. He’s my little brother.” You looked up at him with a small pout as Yuji played with your hair curiously. Ryomen scrunched his face,”Don’t look at me like that.” He motioned to the little boy who was crawling into your lap,”Our mom would kill me if I didn’t take care of that nuisance.” You gasped, collecting Yuji in your arms protectively,”He is not a nuisance. He’s a little angel.”

The man shook his head, turning back to his game,”Maybe to you.” You glared at the back of Ryomen’s head, then turned down to the boy in your arms,”He’s just jealous Yuji.” Though Ryomen acted like he didn’t care, he side-eyed the two of you, smiling to himself as you continued to entertain his younger brother.

The day carried on, sun falling past the horizon and that night you all had pasta, much to Yuji’s request. You all got ready for bed, letting Yuji use your moisturizer as he watched you in amazement. Ryomen picked up his brother once you were finished with your routine and the two of you walked to Yuji’s room. Unfortunately, when Ryomen opened the door, Yuji let out a pitiful whine and nuzzled himself closer into Ryomen’s chest. Your eyebrows crease and you pet his hair comfortingly.

Your boyfriend exhaled,walking into the room,”Come on Yuji, you gotta go to bed.” He let out a sound of disagreement and moved from his arms, reaching out for yours. Folding instantly, you took him from his brother, smiling as the little boy cuddled you. Ryomen stood there, a disappointed look on his face as he watched Yuji. You held him tightly, staring at Ryo with pleading eyes,”Please can he stay with us?”

His brow furrowed, but he ultimately gave into your puppy eyes,”Fine, but just this once. Never again.” You walked over, kissing him softly,”Thank you, Ryo.” It wasn’t a shocker when Yuji slept in your guy's bed, sleeping peacefully between your bodies.

[artsarasp]

You had people send you fics, but what are personally your fic recommendations?

Or fics you like in general or just find cool/neat?

WELL- First off you can always assume that I'm highly recommending any fic I've drawn art for, that's me pointing a neon sign at it and saying GO READ AND LEAVE A NICE COMMENT TO THE WRITER! I'm gonna go dig in my history to get some recs.

- "dumbstruck when you're tender" by pennydaniels This fic is SO good, I wanted to yell about it by making a drawing but I just couldn't decide what to draw. It's a timetravel fix-it fic where Liu Mingyan goes back in time and fixes the plot by joining Qing jing and basically spends the entire story making SQQ go "what the fuck is WRONG with this girl" .

It scratches an itch in my brain. 10/10 go read it.

"We should stick together" by pennydaniels (again <3)

As the author put it, SJ babytraps LQG without the baby. It's honestly so well written, (i want to personally break the face of SJ's Shizun) there's also a sequel fic where sj is de-aged and its so sweetttttt aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

"held within the sharp and the curving" by corduroyserpent

I've read this the other day and really enjoyed it!!! It's Gongyi Xiao/Zhuzhi-Lang. Zhuzhi-Lang brings Gongyi Xiao back from the dead and its a bit of a mess and then it turns so tenderrr

"How To Train Your Empolyee" by ParueCake (MiraEyeteeth)

I think about this fic so much. It's so good. Shen Yuan is a dragon and he needs someone to help him take care of chores around the house, he gets a tiny terrified Binghe to do the job. But honestly, LQG steals the show for me (CALL ME BIASED, HE'S MY FAV) There one scene in particular that just gives me the biggest smile whenever I think about it and it's when SY and LQG are sparring and SY keeps yeeting LQG far away and he keeps coming back like a cat that likes to be thrown around. ALSO LQG TRYING TO APPLY A TALISMAN ON HIMSELF TO GET RID OF MIND CONTROL AND IT'S NOT WORKING BECAUSE IT'S JUST THE WIFE BEAM- IT'S SO FUNNYYYY Mira said something about writing a LQG pov and I'm staring longingly in their general direction.

"A person I can't recall" by milktan

Honestly, I could recommend all their fics (They are ALL amazing and the ARTTT) but this one scratches that itch in my brain that loves funny misunderstandings like these. You can sum it up as: yqy: oh, my poor shidi is so traumatized :( sqh: FUCK FUCK FUCK *TROWS A MOLOTOV* 10/10 amazing shenanigans

"Seamless" by elanor_pam

This one is just the first chapter but it's so good already!!! Timetravel fix it where we get a front-row seat as YQY absolutely TEARS into the Qiu's, just one chapter and it's already PEAK just for the absolute smack at Qiu Jianluo.

"Celestial Afterglow" by elanor_pam (again <3 )

This one is a weird one, but I had a lot of fun reading it. SQH saves the plot by setting up the weirdest unintentional voyeurism session ever. SQQ turns into a living CLAMP illustration, Xin Mo is defeated by the sluttiest flower in the realm, LQG unlocks the particle effect. Everyone has a great time and the OPM gets destroyed as a little treat <3

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 10

Just a reminder no posting next week, as I have to recover from the holidays and all the fics I wrote.

Eddie throws a homecoming party and friends get hella pushy, so both Steve and Eddie push back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Pt 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

The next night Eddie threw a coming home party and invited all the people Steve had hired, the D&D boys (Mike and Dustin), and even let Steve bring Robin as his plus one.

As Steve walked in with Robin, he instantly spotted three men he didn’t know. The broad-chested black man was talking to Charles in one corner of the room, while the other two, a heavy set man and a short, curly haired man was talking to Dustin. And judging from how animated they were getting, Steve was gonna bet they were talking about D&D.

He had even had a chance to look for their host, when Eddie came bounding up to them with a big grin on his face.

“Stevie!” he greeted warmly. “You made it! Everyone else is here at the ball, Cinderella. Come, come meet my friends.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him over to the two talking with Dustin first. “This is Bri-guy and Gare-bear!”

Steve laughed and shook their hands. “I’m the nanny.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “He’s much more than that, he’s an amazing cook and the girls love him.”

“I’m Brian and this Gareth,” Brian said shaking his head. “And we know all about you. This idiot wouldn’t stop talking about the an–”

Eddie slapped his hand over Brian’s mouth and grinned brightly at Steve. “I think that’s about enough of these two, don’cha think?”

Robin got a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Not at all. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Robin, the best friend and platonic soulmate of Steve. We’ve been friends for ages. How long have you known Eddie?”

Gareth grinned at her, sensing a partner in crime. “Oh ages. We all went to high school together. I’m not the original drummer and Bri isn’t the original bassist, but we’re the lightning in the bottle that made Corroded Coffin what it is today.”

Eddie dropped his hand from Brian’s mouth to put his hands on his hips. “How dare!”

Brian and Gareth cackled. And suddenly they were joined but whom Steve assumed was the final member of Corroded Coffin, Jeff Lawrence.

“Are we all picking on Eddie?” he asked gleefully.

“No!” Eddie and Steve cried at the same time the other three cried, “Yes!”

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Ooh! I like her! Jeff, the better guitarist of Corroded Coffin and its lead singer.”

Eddie pushed Jeff. “Oh get out. Only for the last album when we were trying something different. It was not something the fans liked. Asshole.”

“I’ve got to tease you, man,” Jeff huffed with a grin. “It’s so easy!”

“This is Jeffy,” Eddie groused, folding his arms like a scolded toddler. “Meet Steve and Robin.”

“Nice to put a name to the faces,” Jeff said with a charming grin. “Eddie talked all about Steve so Robin’s name came up a lot.”

Steve blushed, but Robin grinned.

“Glad to hear I made it to the dispatch notes,” she said, then turned to Eddie. “I’ve got to say, I really love this house. It looks like it stepped out of pages of a gothic horror film. It’s awesome!”

Eddie took a bow. “Why thank you, my lady!” He looked around his house proudly. “That was the look I was going for. I can’t stand all this sterile white, grey, and beige bullshit that is in vogue right now. Give me color and character!”

“Have you seen what Steve’s done to his room yet?” Robin asked cheerfully, knowing full well what she was insinuating.

Eddie flushed a bright pink, shoving his hair in face to hide the blush and Steve stared at her in wide-eye, slack-jawed shock.

“Robin!” he hissed, flapping his hands at her in embarrassment and dismay.

She grinned at him unrepentantly, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back to see what Eddie would say.

“I–I um...” he coughed. “I haven’t had the opportunity to see how Steve spruced up the place, no.”

“Robin,” Steve said low and deep in warning. “Eddie hasn’t had a reason to see my rooms yet as he’s only been home for thirty-six hours.”

Robin just batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “I would have thought he would have wanted to see what you did to the rooms he’s letting you use in his house.”

The other three members of the band were falling over each other, just cackling over this exchange. Steve was red from the tips of his ears all the way down the dip in his collar. Eddie’s mind tried to follow the thought of how much further the blush went. He didn’t have to think about it long as Steve grabbed Robin and hauled her off elsewhere.

He turned to his friends. “Oh shut it. Assholes.”

“Dude,” Jeff said breathlessly clutching his sides, “like that was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever witnessed and that includes the time Gareth tried to hit on the supermodel that last Grammy’s.”

“Hey!” Gareth huffed. “I got a date out of that, I’ll have you know!”

Brian put his arm around Gareth’s shoulder. “After I told her that you weren’t as big an ass as that interaction displayed. She was going to lose your number, man.”

Gareth folded his arms and pouted. “I hate you both.”

“But seriously, Ed,” Jeff said turning his attention back to Eddie who had been trying to slip away from them before they noticed he was gone.

He failed.

“It’s obvious he has the hots for you,” Jeff continued, “so why aren’t you tapping that ass? You wouldn’t shut up about him the whole time we were on tour. It was actually kinda annoying.”

“For real,” Brian agreed. “And please I don’t want to hear how you’re not ready to get out there again after Ethan left, or how you’re paying him to look after you girls because I’ve seen him with them and holy shit they adore him.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “Guys, I haven’t been home for forty-eight hours yet. Can you not try and hook me up with my daughters’ nanny for fuck sake?” He peered around Jeff, making sure Steve was out of earshot. “I don’t really know him yet. Yes, we talked a lot about everything during the tour but I haven’t had to live with him under my roof yet. I could hate the way he takes three showers a day or whatever.”

Jeff and Brian shared an exasperated look as Brian threw his hands in the air. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back on one leg. “That maybe if me and Ethan had lived together before we got married, maybe the marriage wouldn’t have blown up like it did.”

It was a small and simple “Oh,” from Jeff, but it encapsulated all the feelings of the three other members of Corroded Coffin.

“Shit,” Gareth hissed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed but we just wanted you to be happy. And you light up around Steve in a way I haven’t seen you do in years.”

“What would you know?” Eddie spat bitterly. He looked around at all of them. “What would any of you know? You scattered like kids around a broken window the second the band broke up. And where were you when Ethan left? Or when Wayne broke his leg? I appreciated the tour, it really helped me prioritize things. But you don’t get to come into my house and act like you’ve been there the whole fucking time when you haven’t.”

Eddie stormed off, leaving the three of them there with shocked expressions.

“Shit,” Jeff said, hissing out a pained breath. “He’s right. Fuck. He’s right. We should have flown out the second he told us about Ethan. But we kept putting it off until the deal about the tour came around and then suddenly we were interested in his life only when it benefited us.”

Gareth ran his hands down his face and rolled his eyes skyward. “Fuck. What kind of friends have we been? Like we’re all rich enough that hopping on a plane wouldn’t have even dented our fortunes at all. We should have been for the messy divorce and been helping take care of the girls. But what were we even doing that couldn’t have been put on hold?”

“I was the closest,” Jeff huffed. “I was in New York. Hell, I could driven down. But little shit just kept cropping up. Miranda’s health scare. Then she got pregnant and lost the baby. Which were important at the time, but Eddie needed me.”

“I don’t have any excuse,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Because yeah, I was on the otherside of the world, but Eddie would have flown around the world a dozen times for me, but I couldn’t fly half way.”

Brian’s lip quivered. “My mom got cancer around the time, but I don’t think she would have begrudged me flying out to see Eddie. But I didn’t even give it a second thought.”

Jeff looked around the room for Eddie and spotted him standing next to Steve. Robin wandered off, leaving Steve sitting on a table, ankles crossed, swinging them back and forth, drink in hand as he listened to some story Eddie was telling him.

Jeff continued to watch as Eddie must have said something funny, because Steve threw head back and laughed.

“I think I see the silver lining to our neglect, boys,” he murmured, pointing out the tableau before them.

The other two men turned and looked. Steve was nodding vigorously, big smile on his face as he told his own story to Eddie.

“Because if we had been here to help Eddie around the house,” Jeff continued, “then he wouldn’t have gotten so desperate to hire a male nanny. Yeah, we fucked up. We pushed too hard. But damn boys, look at what grew in that barren wasteland, anyway.”

“So it’s settled,” Brian said, “we’re all staying in Indy to help Eddie and Steve get together, right?”

Gareth nodded. “Damn straight we are. Plus those kids Steve found to play D&D, I’d stick around just to see their style.”

“Looks like Operation: Refriend Eddie is a go, boys,” Jeff said excitedly, putting his arms around both of his friends. “And maybe we’ll get a wedding out of this, too.”

~

Steve had given Robin a good talking to. Like maybe don’t proposition his boss on his behalf before the sheets had even had time to warm up, yeah?

It took some proper talking to her to before she relented and apologized. Then stomped off to find some real booze. Steve knew she was going to raid Eddie’s liquor cabinet, but considering most of it was already out, he didn’t figure Eddie would mind too much.

Then a glass of whiskey was being dangled in front of him. He looked up to see Eddie smiling down at him. Steve took the glass with a murmur of thanks.

“Here’s to interfering best friends!” Steve said raising his glass to Eddie’s.

Eddie clinked their glasses together with wary smile. “I just wish they had been around more before they started interfering in my business. They weren’t around to pick up the pieces, so they don’t get to decide when to change puzzles.”

“Here’s to that.” Steve took a drink. “Robin is just trying to make sure I’m happy and she knows how much I love this place.” He shook his head. “I’m content with being the Au Pair Boy. I don’t need anything else.”

“You are much more than that,” Eddie said fiercely. “My girls love you. You’re special, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I promise.” Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I love those little girls too.”

“Don’t look now,” Eddie said with a grin, “but I think our friends are spying on us.”

Steve took a drink of his whiskey and looked up through his eyelashes and sure enough the Corroded Coffin boys and Robin were all looking over at them, trying to look they weren’t.

“Quick, laugh!” Eddie said and Steve burst out laughing genuinely. “Oh, that was perfect. Good job.”

“Learning the art of actually laughing when you’re supposed to be fake laughing,” Steve said warmly, “is a skill taught to the children of socialites like my mother from birth.”

“I wish they gave you a crash course when you become famous,” Eddie said with a weary smile, “because holy shit it’s like being dumped in a shark tank!”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Yeah, they should teach classes and stuff.”

“Annoying best friends aside,” Eddie murmured. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Steve looked up into his eyes and smiled fondly. “I am too.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

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3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

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9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[stvrnioloslvt]

bestfriends? - matt sturniolo [pt.2]

genre: fluff with a tiny bit of angst / t.w.: none / check out all the other ficmas '24 fics in the masterlist / pt.1 here

③

there were a couple events in the past that made you think that matt felt something for you, even just a tiny bit, like that time you were so hungover after their birthday party that he tucked you in in his bed, kissing your forehead goodnight; or like that time he went up to you while you were studying, massaging your tense shoulders and neck; or the countless times he would slap your thigh as a joke while he was driving, giving it a little squeeze after, and the countless times he would feed you his food, or hand you his water bottle to drink out of.

a lot of times you brushed them off as "friendly interactions," like the type of interactions that people who kiss their bestfriend would probably have. then they grew even more intimate, like sharing cutlery, so you assumed that he saw you like a sister. and then they came at a point where it was undeniable, but you were both so scared and in denial. yet you would always find a way to snuck into his arms, fitting snugly in his embrace, and he would always find an excuse to call you pet names such as "sweetheart" and "darling".

but he was your bestfriend, and sometimes bestfriends act like this too, right?

and that's how you found yourself sprawled on your bed, screaming frustrated in your pillow, hoping that no neighbour would knock on your door to check on you or even worse — call the police. yeah, that would be pretty embarrassing. "cause what the actual fuck would i even tell them, 'oh hey officer, sorry for traumatising my neighbours i was just crashing out cause i like my bestfriend, hope you have a nice day!' like... wait, am i fucking talking to myself out loud? nah i'm going insane, there's no other explanation."

you stopped yourself in your tracks, not having even noticed that in the middle of your monologue you had gotten up from your bed and started to walk around on circles like a madman, and watched as the screen of your phone lit up with a new notification from matt.

you felt your stomach twist and turn with guilt as you watched the screen go back to black, knowing that you had been ignoring him for hours at this point — not because you were mad or anything like that, but because for the last 24 hours every time you opened tiktok your fyp was flooded by edits of you two, of your interactions, of that little smile that you hadn't seen in person the other day making your heart jump in your ribcage, threatening you to rip your flesh open just to escape your body.

finally, you decided that it wasn't fair for the boy to get ignored like that, so with shaky hands you unlocked your phone and opened his chat.

❛❛dumbass💙❞ ⑫

⤷ y/n

⤷ y/n

⤷ hellooo

⤷ you dead?

⤷ were you abducted by the ufos?

⤷ nah i'm serious where are you

⤷ i'm getting worried

⤷ sweetheart please, i know you have your phone in hand, is everything alright?

⤷ have i done something?

⤷ are you mad? :(

⤷ mr.wrinkleton says that he misses you

⤷ nah i'm done i'm coming over

your brows furrowed at the last message: surely he wasn't serious, right? right?

just then a soft knock echoed in the house, making you yelp startled.

"ain't no way..." you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the front door, opening it just to find a rather confused and worried matt looking at you from head to toe.

you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to say or what to do, your face probably paler than ever.

"where the fuck —" he started, sass and annoyance dripping from his tone, "were you, miss?"

"i-i was sleeping i'm sor‐"

"cut the bullshit, you've been ignoring me since you went out last night."

he was annoyed. oh he was so fucking annoyed, like you have never seen him before in more than ten years of friendship and that scared you, your legs shaking under you, the hand that opened the door holding a death grip on the knob even if sweaty.

he must have sensed your uneasiness cause he gave you one last good look before taking a deep breath in and slowly exhaling, moving a step closer to you as his hands grabbed gently your shoulders, lightly nudging you inside so that he could close the door behind him.

tears prickled at your eyes at the thought of having made him angry, but you tried hard to fight them back. however, matt didn't miss the way your eyes turned watery, the way you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

"i- baby, what's wrong?" he cooed, pulling you in a hug, stroking your hair slowly. "what's happening, sweet girl? you can talk to me, you know that." his hand took ahold of you chin, gently moving your head so that he could look at your face. he tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping with his thumb a tear that had managed to escape.

"nothing," you whispered, sniffling faintly and rubbing your eyes in order to conceal those tears. matt's arms unfolded from around you, firmly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your eyes.

"don't. i've already seen them, and i want to know what's happening. if that means that you need to cry, then do it, you know that i won't judge."

you choked on a sob, finally breaking down. you buried your face in matt's shirt as you released years of fears, confusion and hurt, knowing that at that point you were at the final stage before ruining everything. matt's arms snuck around you, picking you up and taking you to your room, delicately placing you on your bed. he laid beside you, stroking the strands of hair that fell on your face away from your eyes, wiping away the tear strands that were drying on your cheeks.

"what's wrong pretty girl" he asked softly, his tone laced with care and worry. he placed a loving kiss on your forehead, intertwining your fingers before kissing gently each digit.

you watched silently the scene, your throat burning because of all the things that were bubbling up, ready to come out.

"that's – that's what's wrong," you croaked out, watching as matt gave your pinky finger one last peck. the boy's brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly. "you don't like it?"

"no, no, that's not the point... they are right."

"who's right?"

"everyone!" you snapped, sitting up abruptly on the bed. matt followed your example right after. "your fans, your brothers, your friends, my friends, everyone is right!"

"baby i'm not following you right now-"

"what are we?"

the pressure of the question weighted heavily upon you. everything froze in the moment, even time. there, you finally had done that. you had ruined years and years of friendship in a second. you watched intently as matt's expression fell in one of unease, his mind working overtime to find a good answer.

"i-we- what are you even talking about, y/n?"

"i'm talking about the fact that everyone is seeing something that we are not. i'm talking about the fact that bestfriends do not do what we do. i tried finding answers, but none of them make sense. i'm talking about the fact that even your own family, your own blood and flesh is hinting that there is something more going on. everyone, and i mean everyone that i know does think the same. except us, apparently – except...you."

matt shook his head, a nervous chuckle coming from the back of his throat. "you don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, over and over again, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room, much like you not even an hour before.

"what do you mean 'i don't know what i'm talking about'? everyone sees it! everyone!" you screamed, jumping up to your feet to face your bestfriend who was actively having a major crash out.

your hands were shaking uncontrollably by your side, much like everything else in you. your whole system was running off adrenaline, pure and unadulterated, preparing you to flight off the scene if things got worse.

"no. what you don't see is that you've been the blind one this whole fucking time. i've been trying. all these years, i've been trying and trying and you never once acknowledged it. not a single time."

"wait what‐"

"i love you! i fucking love you! you're right, we do not act like bestfriends do, cause you're not a bestfriend to me. you're more, you're something so much more precious than a friend and you're so fucking stupid and i'm so mad at you cause all these years i've been trying to make a move and each time you act like your other fucking friends treat you the same way and it's pissed me off more times than i can recount but at the same time i didn't wanna be too straightforward cause i had no idea if you felt the same way or not and i didn't wanna risk it." he chocked out the last sentence, his face red from having spoken so fast and so much with little breath in his lungs. he breathed in, relaxing his shoulders. you observed how his whole body relaxed at the confession, how it looked like a real weight was lifted off his shoulders.

you mouth fell open at the sudden confession, your head spinning from all the emotions that were washing over you. you sat back on the bed, grabbing the sheets to ground yourself. you tried to talk multiple times, failing. instead, you looked like a dying fish.

matt dropped to his knees in front of you, cradling your face in his hands. "please," he whispered, his icy eyes silently begging you, "say something."

"i- i fucking hate you. made me crash out multiple times just to find out that you love me? do you know how many times i've lost sleep over this? just cause the uncertainty wouldn't let me live peacefully? fuck you."

a shy smile tugged at matt's lips, clearly amused by your exasperation.

"so you do love me that much, hm?" he teased you, his lips hovering over yours.

your stomach did a flip at the proximity, anticipation building up in you. you watched mesmerised as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, then again to you eyes. your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists, nails digging into his skin.

"tell me that you love me."

"fuck y-"

matt's lips crashed on yours, latching onto you with desperation. your hands found their way in his hair, gently pulling strands of hair as he devoured you. the kiss was anything but gentle, years and years of pent up frustration released like that, lips on lips, hands grabbing soft skin, pushing each other as close as possible.

"matt," you gasped, coming up for air, "fuck. i hate you. but i also love you so so much, it's crazy."

matt smiled, his lips puffy. he intertwined your fingers before asking you:

"can i be you boyfriend?"

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

❃ a.n.: to the anon that asked for a pt.2... thank you🙏 i don't think I've ever written as much before and it's all thanks to you. i hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing and imagining it.

love, bree ☾

taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn 🤍

[rasberrylovc]

LOVE TO KEEP ME WARM - jj maybank !

-- on christmas morning, on vacation, jj refuses to let you even as much as get out of bed. he insists on staying in bed during the cold day.

word count 702

!!' soft!jj, fwb!jj, fwb!reader

warnings implied sex (lmk if i need to add some)

notes this is my first time writing on tumblr (usually writing on wattpad) so sorry if this wasnt as good as expected. im open to writing tips if anyone has any !!

SOMEHOW, you had, once again, convinced the pogues to spend vacation in your hometown. it was the one place you knew would always snow on christmas day, which you absolutely adored.

you all stayed at your parents house. your mom had insisted for you to, due to having just enough beds for everyone. well, enough for two to a room, and one on the pullout in the living room.

the sleeping plan was quite simple. pope and cleo in room 1, sarah and john b in room 2, you and kie in your old room, and jj on the pullout.

however, jj had convinced kiara to let him bunk with you instead, going on about how it was impossible to fall asleep without another person in the room, and refusing to sleep in a room with any of the others due to the couples being paired together.

she hesitantly agreed, mainly just to get him to stop rambling. so she took the pullout, while jj slept in your room with you.

CHRISTMAS MORNING was definitely the most exciting thing to you. all you wanted to do was get up, dress warmly, go shopping, get hot chocolate, then come back to surprise the others with the freshly bought gifts you got for them.

only, of course, jj had found a way to stopping all those plans. the second you tried to get up, you felt his arm tighten around you. he was still half asleep, but awake enough to know he wanted you to stay.

you turn around to face him, very obviously confused. you hadnt realized he was already awake. that alone ruining your plans, let alone him not even letting you get up.

"jay, i need to shower." you complained. he pretended to think for a second. "mm, no." he eventually disagrees. "just stay in bed, mk?" he wasnt really giving you a choice, his tone supporting that theory.

you groaned in response to his protest. "i have plans." before you can continue on, jj presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

jj kissing you wasnt too surprising to you. what caught you off guard was that he didnt do it in a state of lust, as he usually did. it was soft and slow instead of his usual kisses. but you kissed him back nonetheless.

"s'too cold to be going out anyway. cmon, we can celebrate tomorrow." he says after pulling away. it was a tempting offer, really. only you knew youd have to confirm with the others first.

but then again, he wasnt really asking. he was more just trying to get you to agree. but it was safe to say you were not making it out of the house without him immediately pulling you back inside.

"fine." you reluctantly agree. you were already getting cold anyways, what did you really have to lose?

jj smiles, pecking your lips time after time, causing a small smile to appear on your face. he eventually stops, tugging you closer as you bury your head in his chest.

you could faintly smell his cheap cologne, and what you assumed to be the cookies everyone made the night before. you surpringly enjoyed the smell.

he plants one final kiss onto the top of your head, before drifting off back to sleep. you let out a hum of amusement as you hear his soft snores, before falling asleep yourself.

a/n kinda short, but i just wanted to write something to end my block. its a few hours late to post this depending on time zones, but i hope you liked it anyways !!

taglist none !

not proofread

[sheeezu]

⋆ Shift - Energy conversion method ⋆

This method basically materialises your DR when you divert your precious mental and spiritual energy towards it.

It's a pretty easy method and the time period might vary for different people, I don't think it should go over an hour.

First, what is energy and how can you start consciously feeling the direction of your energy.

Energy and vibrations are practically the same thing. You must have heard about it if you've dwelled into astral projection or the gateways tape, where one of it involves imagining putting away your negative emotions/energy in an energy convertor box.

Although this method doesn't rely on visualising, what we're going to achieve is to take our energy, which is characterised by strong emotions, and put it towards our DR, WRs, kind of like a vending machine, you put a coin in to get your desired product.

Think of it, at all times we are putting emotional efforts into something, e.g your CR while going through your day, you feel at all times. If we talk about shifting, we have an attachment to the practice of shifting to our affirmations, towards hope of being in your DR, one day, tonight, etc. We all do this, but to shift, we need to throw this away. By following this principle of emotional involvement, and instead directing it directly towards your Dr, reality will shift for you.

Anyways, enough rambling, let me explain the method.

Basic concept of the method- in theory.

Energy, it exists in many other forms in us. But for this method we'll be taking our emotions, feelings. Feelings which are strongest in order of time, because the reality we're in and the ones we usually shift to involve the influence of time - past, present and future.

In order of the strongest feelings, we can form a direct connection to our Drs.

Past - Nostalgia.

There's nothing stronger than nostalgia, which leaves you feeling trapped in the nicest way possible, in the middle of your memories. I still remember it, my waiting room which i based off my grandparent's house, which always gives me a strange sense of comfort and nostalgia, the sharp subcontinental sunlight which fills me with warmth makes me feel familiarity which I can't describe.

In your DR and WR there must be something which causes you to be filled with nostalgia, it's perhap a memory from your childhood, or if you go into the specifics stuff like me, like how the light from the streetlights illuminate the fog on a winter day, or if you're shifting to your WR it's a special object, a place. Don't chicken out on this one, you're a living breathing person in your Dr, who has lived there their entire life.

Present - Desire, need, passion.

In the present, the strongest you could feel is having an impulse to act passionately, associating it with your DR. You're not a robot who's stuck up on affirming, you're someone who's already in your DR, so full of life.

Future - excitement.

Your plans in your Dr fuels you with excitement. Sure, you have already assumed you're already in your Dr, but that doesn't make it any less exciting to wake up and do what you love, to see the faces of your loved ones. You feel strongly regarding your foreseeable future in your Dr.

Basic concept of the method- in practice.

You could do this at anytime, but it's best to do this when you're relaxed. Your tiredness level doesn't matter, nor does your position while laying down, it's best to just not move, but if you're not comfortable with it, you can move around but try to not focus on it, focus on what's going on in your mind, because that's what shifts you.

Close your eyes, the best thing you could start off with is light daydreaming about your DR, for better or quicker result during the whole method it's best if you think of more decision/consequences based scenarios, afterwards, or during if you're going to affirm, I'd recommend visual affirmations (go around a specific place in your DR, see affs written around in any way you could think of).

We're checking into our DR. Now you're going to tell yourself that you are present in your DR fully, physically, mentally in your 4D, so you're supposed to remind yourself that 3D follows right afterwards.

Now, we're going to do a little on our own to attract results in 3D instantly by converting our energy, and expressing our DR in emotions.

All those emotions I've mentioned before, you're supposed to practice them in order of time, time does not exist anywhere else, just in your DR.

You could this by visualising scenarios where these feelings are induced naturally, for past, you can flash nostalgic images in your mind, or by listening to nostalgic voices relating to your DR as if listening to an old tape.

For present, if you're laying next to your S/O, do you feel desire to just roll over and just hug them? Other than that, you have a need to sustain yourself, your humanely need to stretch in bed, get up to eat, look out the window into the morning sky.

For future, if you work an engaging job, you could get excited about it. Other than that, hype up your future goals, aspiration.

If you've done this by adopting the nature and characteristics of your DR self, you can shift easily. You can add a wider variety of emotion. Importantly, don't fall into any doubts about you not being there, about you still being here, if you can't get over the gut feelings or if the shifting symptoms are intensifying periodically than you can keep repeating your scenarios/words/voices which induce these emotions for you.

...

Before I fall into a deep contemplation on how I could've improved this post and my explanation I am just going to go watch dead poets society because I miss it.

...

[s0fter-sin]

idk why it wouldn’t let me answer this @kissmesharman but i absolutely love this, ghost not knowing how to process his omegan traits, to allow himself to be the one who is vulnerable and be protected instead of protecting is so ‼️ being soft, being open and accepting always came with consequences; it was always met with pain and betrayal and you only have to learn a lesson so many times before it sticks

the insidious ways roba and his ilk tried to force him into complacency, using their pheromones and rumbling and scruffing to trick his instincts into submitting- all they did was make ghost bury his omega so deep inside, he almost laughed at the irony of his own burial. even after he’s exhumed, he doesn’t hear it for years; naturally doesn’t heat even without suppressants, doesn’t purr, doesn’t feel that innate safety an alpha’s presence is supposed to bring

just being near other designations calms you down, whether they’re family, pack or even strangers thrown together in too-cramped barracks. it levels out your hormones, gives you people to act your instincts out on, and it’s never a surprise to walk into the cherries’ barracks and find them all tucked inside the resident omega’s nest; discordant purrs and chuffs layering over each other, too-big feet tangled together, still young enough for the milky smell of pup to cling to the edges of their scent especially clumped together like this. a lot of them won’t make it through selection, won’t find pack in each other but it’d be cruel to strip them of this simple comfort

ghost hasn’t stepped inside a nest in almost a decade

hasn’t felt the desire to build up softness and safety, to spread that feeling of home to the 141 even after he admits to himself that they’re pack. even after months of rejection - growling at soap’s happy chuffs whenever he saw him, pumping off bitterly aggressive pheromones to drown out gaz’s pack?home?safe?good? scent until he knew the beta felt sick with the sour poison, avoiding price whenever he was in pre-rut despite it being the most tempting and warm time of year for an omega to be near an alpha, those days before the terrible need when alphas are all affection, rut drunk with the happiness and safety of pack - they still welcomed him with open arms and bared necks as if he were a second pack alpha and not an omega

he’ll posture and loom over any unfamiliar presence, anyone that could potentially be a threat to his pack; his growls a thunderous undercurrent that shakes the very ground and makes anyone who hears it submit on instinct. soap and gaz happily submit to him; almost vibrating in place when he scents them, enduring their appeasing nibbles and licks at his hidden mouth, falling to heel whenever he decides to take over a situation. price shows it in other ways; nose blind after too many breaks and too many cigars, he lets ghost gentle him when his stress reaches its peak, hangs his head and just breathes as ghost threads his fingers together and cups them around his neck, squeezing his scent glands with his palms. ghost bumps their temples together and they’ll just stand there until the burnt scent of tension leaks out of the air

they’re not shy with their submission until most people just assume ghost’s an alpha based purely on the actions of his pack

they’ll never point it out, but the 141 has never suffered for lack of a pack nest. bc ghost unknowingly makes individual nests wherever they go

he’ll push soap into the comfiest sofa cushion after scoping out a safe house, tug gaz’s jacket straight when he uses it as a pillow and eye mask in one, pace in front of the bedroom price claimed to ensure his pack alpha is safe inside his den. he divies out rations, always opens them and switches the desserts so gaz and soap don’t argue over who got the better one; takes the instinctual first bite of anything scavenged or hunted to know it’s safe just to wait until everyone’s done eating and full before taking his own portion. they all present themselves for ghost’s inspection after missions; lets him run his hands and nose over them to check for injuries and it’s ghost who more often than not ends up taking care of them instead of sending them down to medical

they’ll never tell him, never make him face his own behaviour before he’s ready to come to terms with it himself. as much as ghost’s convinced himself otherwise, his omega is alive and well and his pack will welcome his shy return whenever he feels ready to step back into the light

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 003 ; mcdonalds.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (757)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (filler chapter, short but sweet, only child! reader, a little angsty in regards to reader beung an only child, just backstory on reader + runa family, profanity, mcdonalds)

a/n: i dont do authors notes, and i probs wont do this again, but i wanted to wish all those who celebrate a very merry christmas !! i hope you eat yummy food and have a great time with your family !

When you get a text from Runa asking to join her for lunch, of course you say yes. It’s your fourth day here and you still haven’t made a peep to any of your classmates. Runa’s kind of the only person you know at university.

You meet her in front of your dorm building and the ride to Mcdonald’s isn’t too long. Apparently, they built this Mcdonald’s last year purely because it’s around a bunch of broke college kids.

Runa orders first and you order the same thing. Who knew you two were so similar? You sit down and, for the first few minutes, you’re both quiet.

Runa breaks the silence first by asking about your family.

“Oh, I’m an only child,” you say with a shrug. “My parents are also both only children, so I don’t really have a big family or anything. I only have a few cousins who are much, much older than me. Courtesy of my great aunts and uncles.” You shrug again and pop a fry in your mouth. “Um, my mom is a pediatrician, so she was never really home, and my dad works for the local newspaper.”

She nods along as you speak, watching you intently. Once you finish, she hums. “That’s too bad. Growing up without a lot of family, I mean.” She frowns slightly. “Your dad is a newspaper guy, though, is that why you want to teach English when you get older?”

“Um,” You think for a moment. “Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve just always been good at English.” You pause, then shake your head. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

Her eyes widen and she suddenly smiles widely. “Oh, I have a huge family. I have three brothers and one sister. I’m the oldest, which,” she rolls her eyes, “sucks, by the way. My mom passed away when I was little, but my dad works for a car company. Not selling them, building them. He’s, like, a genius. That’s why I got into cars. I’m assuming Rin told you about Atsumu’s dad’s car?” When you nod, she nods as well. “Yeah, they were always working on that stupid car. It was, like, twenty years old, but it was cool as fuck.”

You nod, taking a bite of your burger. “That sounds awesome. When I was younger I used to be super jealous of other kids with siblings. My house was always quiet, so I used to turn all the TV’s on and pretend that there were people in the house.” You laugh at the memory, but when you look at Runa, she’s frowning once again. “It’s okay, though,” you try to backtrack. “I liked my privacy, too. I never had to share a room, there was always hot water to shower with, never had to deal with siblings chasing after me with a knife or something.” You snicker and shrug again.

She stays quiet for a long moment. The two of you sit in silence again, just eating your food.

Eventually, you clear your throat. “So, um, what do you do for fun? You mentioned being a manager for your high school’s volleyball team, but what do you like to do now?” You raise your brows inquisitively. “Oh, what are you majoring in?”

“Communications,” she answers quickly. The sudden smile on her face almost makes you giggle. She sure does change emotions rather quickly. “I want to do something to do with public relations, maybe? I don’t know. When I was a manager I felt like I was doing something that fit, you know? So I’m thinking of becoming a PR manager for a sports team or something. Volleyball or maybe soccer.” She shrugs.

“That makes sense.” You nod. “I think you’d be good at marketing, too. You’re very…” you trail off, thinking. “Persuasive.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I just talk a lot.”

You laugh, too, and look back down at your food. It’s nearly gone, but you don’t think you can finish it. “Do you want the rest of my fries?” You ask.

“Um, yeah, obviously.”

As you laugh once more and hand her the french fries, you can’t help but think that Runa is going to be a good friend. She’s funny and nice and she included you in something dear to her the first day you met her.

You go to sleep that night with a smile on your face for the first time in a while. Similarly, for the first time, you’re excited to wake up with Runa tomorrow.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys

[demigod-shenanigans]

Hey! I saw your recent Grace Siblings angst post and I really enjoyed it. I was also wondering if you had anything else on them? It could be happy or sad headcanons

Ask and you shall receive! Most of these are at least kind of sad (not all though) so I feel like I now owe y’all a happy Grace siblings hc post at some point in the future

-Jason’s first word was “Lia” (because baby Jason couldn’t pronounce Thalia yet). Thalia never got over that.

-His second word was “no”. Beryl was “no” basically exclusively for three months. That made Thalia almost prouder than his first word did lmao

-When Beryl left him at the Wolf House, Jason wasn’t super alarmed at first. His mom leaving him somewhere and walking away/not being around isn’t super unusual. He only started freaking out after some time passed and he realized Thalia wasn’t coming to get him. (Absolutely crushing fic that my friend wrote which features a related concept can be found here, if you’d like to be even more sad :))

-Luke was the only person Thalia ever told about Jason. It did not help his general opinion of the gods. 

-There’s a canonical short story where Thalia is given a prophecy that she’ll be reunited with her family (and, specifically, that this doesn’t mean her mom). Her and Luke meet Annabeth right after, and I’m pretty sure Thalia thought she was Jason at first glance. She’s almost the right age, and they look similar.

-When Thalia was dying (before Zeus turned her into a tree), she assumed the being reunited with her family-prophecy meant she’d get to see her brother again in Elysium.

-Thalia definitely struggles to think of the two year old brother she lost and the fifteen year old brother she gets back as the same person. (This is made infinitely worse by the fact that their age difference is only two years now, instead of the seven it’s supposed to be.) Thalia knows that they are, objectively, the same person, but the Jason she remembers was small and fragile and needed her help to do basically everything. Seeing him now as a teenager who learned not to need her at all… it brings her a lot of joy because she thought she’d never get that, but she definitely also struggles with it a lot.

-For the above reason, I feel like she’s wildly overprotective of him. Jason, who was raised to succeed and fail on his own strength, does not know how to handle this. It’s bizarre in the same way that the concept of Leo and Piper trying to protect him is, so this isn’t an isolated Thalia issue.

-Jason gets anxious when people are mad at him. This should be a terrible combination with Thalia’s short fuse, but it isn’t. The reason for that is the fact that Jason’s anxiety surrounding people’s anger is rooted in his fundamental belief that love is a thing that needs to be earned and will be taken away from him if he isn’t perfect. He can’t explain why, but it’s never felt that way with Thalia. He just knows instinctually that she still loves him, even when she’s mad at him.

-Thalia was the first person Jason cried in front of in years. This just feels right to me.

-They’re not sure which one of them feels weirder when Jason turns sixteen and is now technically sort of older than her. Thalia ruffles his hair and tells him she’s always going to be his big sister, regardless of whether she’s physically older.

[sisterspooky1013]

A Christmas Story, Chapter 2/2

Rated X | 5317 words | Read it here on AO3

When they enter her apartment, Scully goes directly to the bathroom. Mulder fills a glass of water for her, then drinks half of it while he waits and fills it again. She’s gone for quite a while, so he plugs in her Christmas tree and starts to read through the cards propped up on her mantle. When he finally hears the bathroom door open, he looks up to see that she’s exchanged her party dress for a fluffy white bathrobe and her face is scrubbed clean.

“Hi,” she says shyly, and he takes two long steps across the room to reach her.

“Hi,” he says, taking her face in his hands and kissing her chastely once, twice, three times.

He stays close, and she relaxes by increments.

“I’m mortified, Mulder,” she admits, and he hums disapprovingly.

“Nothing to be mortified about.”

She scoffs.

“You’re a bad liar,” she chides him affectionately. Her hands find his waist.

“I’m serious,” he insists.

“I basically assaulted you,” she tells him.

He kisses her again, lingering a little this time.

“You’ve assaulted me much worse than that,” he says, catching her off guard, and she laughs.

“You poor boy,” she coos, and the tenor of her voice makes his groin tighten.

“You know, you can feel free to assault me any time,” he says. “Though preferably while sober, for ethical reasons.”

She takes a step closer, pressing her body flush against his.

“I’m sober now,” she says with an air of invitation.

Mulder is hit with a wave of anxiety that makes his heart begin to gallop. He’s suddenly very aware of his own unbrushed teeth and how much he was sweating at the party. For the first time he considers the potential that after years of celibacy, he’ll be a lousy lay. Immediately following that thought, he chastises himself for assuming that’s where this is headed.

Scully leans away and gives him an appraising look.

“Mulder?” she asks, and he kicks himself when he hears the self-consciousness in her voice.

“Sorry,” he says, giving his head a shake. “I’m just…nervous, I guess.”

“About me?” she asks, seeming genuinely surprised.

He looks at her for a moment, drowning in her too-big bathrobe with a little fleck of toothpaste stuck to the corner of her mouth and Christmas tree lights sparkling in her eyes. He knows that he loves her. He almost says it right then.

Instead, he kisses her. He kisses that fleck of toothpaste away, and his remaining nervousness along with it. He kisses her until they’re right back on the porch at her mother’s house, until she’s dragging his bottom lip between her teeth and her fingernails are digging into his hips with restraint. He keeps waiting for her to reach for him, keeps readying himself not to pull away this time, but her hands stay rooted in place without alcohol to loosen them up. It’s going to have to be him, he realizes.

He gives the tie on her bathrobe a tug and she makes a little surprised noise in the back of her throat, but doesn’t pull away. It’s not until he slips his hands underneath it and touches her bare waist that he realizes she’s not wearing pajamas like he assumed, and he is at once overcome with blinding lust and stark fear that he’s violated her boundaries.

“Oh, I—” he starts, but she throws her arms around his neck and quiets him with a kiss.

Her skin is unbelievably soft. He runs his palms up and down from the dimples above her ass to to the tops of her shoulders and back again, relishing in the feel of her. When he dares to venture lower he discovers that she does have panties on, but definitely nothing on top. He’s breathing hard through his nose, summoning every ounce of self restraint to keep his hands in respectable places, and his dick is so hard it’s almost painful not to touch it or grind it against her bare belly.

Scully slows her kisses and then breaks away, pressing her cheek to his and panting hotly in his ear.

“It’s getting late,” she says in a low, raspy whisper.

Mulder nods, disappointed but understanding. It will be far from the first time he’s gone home alone to finish what Scully started. More times than she probably realizes.

“Do you want to stay?” she asks, punctuating the question with a gentle forward cant of her hips, bumping innocently against his stiff cock.

Mulder makes a truly embarrassing sound that could only be described as a whine, and she puffs a little laugh against his ear. There’s something disarming about her teasing him, something recognizable in this completely novel moment, that allows him to find confidence. He stoops a little and grabs her by the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up into his arms.

Scully squeals and tightens her grip on his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist. He marches her into the bedroom and tosses her onto the bed, which leaves her exposed with her robe splayed open to reveal little black panties and her bare, perfect breasts. He isn’t aware that he’s standing there staring at her until she sits up and slips her arms out of the robe, then scoots to the edge of the mattress.

“Come here,” she says nervously, and he steps forward. Her eyes land on his groin and her brows lift, which makes him feel both self-conscious and proud. She looks up at him when she touches his belt buckle, and the image of her sitting there topless in the muted light from the next room, looking at him like that while she slowly unbuckles his belt, is one that he will recall vividly for the rest of his life, he’s sure. Once she has his zipper down, she pushes his shirt partway up his belly and he takes it off. Her eyes scatter over his chest, his stomach, back up to his face, and it makes his heart ache and his dick throb.

“You’re a very handsome man, Mulder,” she says as she slips her hands under the waist of his jeans at the hip. “Have I told you that already?” A tiny, coy smile.

He shakes his head. A pithy comeback is completely inaccessible to him, what with half the blood in his body fueling the raging erection she’s about to expose. She looks at his face while she pushes his jeans down, and while he thinks she intended to leave his boxers on, they have a mind of their own and he feels them dragging down his hips as well. He looks between her face, her breasts, and those little black panties as he feels his dick swing free and bob in the air between them. When she gets his pants to his knees she looks down, and her mouth falls open before she quickly snaps it shut, which is the ego boost of a lifetime.

“Impressive,” she says, looking back to his face.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning like a fucking idiot.

She wipes the smile right off his face when she wraps her hand around him and his knees buckle.

“Jesus, Scully,” he says, kneeling on the floor in front of her and taking his dick out of reach. “You can’t keep springing that on me.” He pushes himself into the space between her open legs and feels the heat of her radiating against his belly.

“Sorry, should I submit a 302 or something?” she quips, draping her arms over his shoulders.

Mulder grabs her by the ass and tugs her forward, pressing her heat tight against him. He feels the peaks of her nipples brush across his chest and all the hair on his body stands on end.

“Just go easy on me, G-Woman,” he says, pushing her hair behind her ears. “It’s been a while.”

He kisses her and she hums in agreement, or enjoyment, or both. His hands wander a little more freely now, giving her ass cheek a squeeze before he ventures up to touch one of her breasts. The way her hips lurch towards him when he brushes a thumb across her hardened nipple provides valuable information, and he quickly ducks his head down to pull one between his lips.

“Oh!” she says sharply, and her back arches, pushing her chest into his face. He gets lost there for a bit, moving between one breast and then the other, feeling her fingernails against his scalp and the vibration of her moaning in his skull. She slowly sinks backwards and he slowly moves over her, knees on the mattress between her open legs. “Oh god, oh my god,” she keeps whispering while her hips thrust against the air, seeking contact. Mulder loops one arm under her shoulders and tugs her to the middle of the bed before tucking his hips between her own and grinding his erection against the damp gusset of her panties.

Scully gasps and grabs the back of his neck, pulling him down into a searing kiss. The mood in the room shifts from playful and exploratory to needy and urgent when she grabs his ass and pulls him tight against her, whimpering and wiggling her hips desperately. He can feel how wet she is when the head of his cock pushes against her opening through that little scrap of fabric, and it makes his head spin. He won’t last a minute, he knows it. He really, really doesn’t want to disappoint her.

Shifting his weight, he brings one hand down between them and presses two fingers against her clit through her panties. Scully’s breath hitches and shudders, and her mouth moves in a silent plea.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers in her ear, and he swears he can feel her throb under his fingers.

“Yes,” she whines, tensed and anticipating.

Mulder slips his two fingers behind her panties and runs them over her slick lips, and Scully falls apart. Her head tips back, mouth open and wailing, and she reaches down to cover his hand with her own, pushing his two fingers inside her.

“Fuck,” he practically shouts in her ear when he feels her hot, wet walls clamp down around him.

“Oh, please,” she sputters, flexing her hips against his hand, squeezing his bicep in encouragement. “Oh my god, I’m gonna come.”

Mulder’s brain short circuits. He’s long dreamt of this moment, but even in his fantasies it was never this easy or this fast. It makes him feel drunk with lust, seeing how much she wants him. He pumps his fingers steadily in and out, using his thumb to hold her panties to the side. Scully breathes loud and hard, her panting morphing into little moans that increase in pitch. Then, with one final drawn out ohhhh, she begins to throb.

It’s everything he imagined, and so much more. She’s beautiful, and sexy, and unrestrained in her pleasure. Her face contorts and her hips undulate like crashing waves, and she’s so wet he can hear the slick of her every time he pushes his fingers back inside. He rubs his cock against her inner thigh just to take the edge off, and suddenly she’s pushing his hand away, scrambling out from underneath him.

He barely has time to wonder what’s happening. She shucks her panties off and reaches for him, encouraging him back over her. He can still feel her throbbing against the head of his cock when she guides him inside, and he sinks in slowly, watching and listening for any sign of pain. She kisses him sloppily, seemingly still just as interested as she was before.

Scully groans into his mouth at the same time he feels her flutter around him and it’s wildly overstimulating. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her hands in his hair, her tongue in his mouth, and her tight little pussy trembling with aftershocks. Now, it’s Mulder who groans.

“I don’t know how long I can take this,” he mumbles. “You feel too good.”

She pulses again in response to the compliment and he moans loudly.

“It’s okay,” she says, scraping her nails across his upper back. “I want you to.”

She doesn’t even have to say what she wants him to do; he almost comes right then just from the suggestion.

“I promise I’m capable of much more impressive stamina,” he says self-consciously, and she chuckles a little, which he can feel right in his dick.

“I believe that wholeheartedly,” she tells him. Apparently her skepticism has limits afterall.

He fucks her slowly, trying to stave off his own orgasm with deep, languid strokes. He can tell by the way she thrusts against him that she wants to go faster, but he’s not ready for this to be over yet. When he does speed up a little, her breath quickens in the same way it did before.

“Please don’t stop,” she says quietly, and Mulder squeezes his eyes shut tight so he can’t see the pleading look on her face.

“I can’t,” he says breathily, already losing control. “I can’t.”

“Oh god,” she keens, squeezing the life out of him.

There’s no point in trying to hold back now; he’s past the point of no return. His languid strokes become quick, sharp thrusts, and Scully’s fingernails dig into his shoulder painfully. He’s heard that some women can come more than once in a single session, but he’s never witnessed it firsthand. She gasps and stiffens, and the tight squeeze of her around his cock feels better than anything he can remember experiencing in his entire life.

“Fuck, are you coming?” he asks tightly as his balls draw up against his body and a wave of pleasure begins to overtake him.

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t really need to. He knows she is by the way she grabs and releases him over and over as he empties inside her, and the look on her face that he only just learned. She feels so good it makes him want to cry, so he tucks his face into her neck and keeps fucking her until he’s too soft to continue.

There are a few quiet minutes where they both pant and wait for their hearts to slow down, and he realizes a bit late that it’s going to make a mess on her comforter when he pulls out.

“Would you get me a towel from the bathroom?” she asks sweetly, trailing her fingers over the scratches on his back.

They get cleaned up with only moderate awkwardness, then crawl under the covers. This part, the cuddling, they have much more experience with, and the easy way she lays her head on his chest and slings a leg over his thigh relaxes him. They lie there for a few minutes in contemplative, though not uncomfortable, silence.

“Not bad, right?” he asks, giving her a squeeze, and he can feel her smiling.

“Not bad at all,” she reassures him. “Pretty great, actually.”

Mulder sits with this for a moment, grinning at the ceiling. Suddenly, Scully pushes up onto an elbow, though it’s too dark to see.

“Did it bother you that I told my mother’s friends I’m not seeing anyone?” she asks earnestly.

“No,” he says. “I know you’re a private person. I think your mom might be suspicious, though.”

Scully laughs.

“Did she ask you about it?”

“Kind of. She asked if it’s new,” he tells her.

There’s a pause.

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘not really.’ I think she was just worried that she interrupted our first kiss or something. But she said she’s okay with it.”

“Those were her exact words?” she asks immediately.

“No,” Mulder says, taking a moment to recall the conversation. “I think her exact words were something like, ‘Dana doesn’t tell me much, but I’ve always wondered and I think it’s great.’ Something close to that.”

“She said she thinks it’s great?” Scully repeats. “You and I sleeping together?”

“Scully,” he says, grabbing her hand. “It was a very brief conversation, but the gist of it was that she’s glad we’re…more than friends, or partners. She thinks it’s a good thing.”

Scully sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Sorry.” She lays back down, and they’re quiet again for a few minutes.

Mulder thinks about the party, about how different things already feel now, mere hours later. He wonders if it feels as different to her.

“Just out of curiosity,” he asks nervously, “are you seeing anyone special?”

She tips her head up, and he can feel the heat of her breath on his cheek.

“Yes, actually,” she says lightly, which makes him feel elated. “A special agent. Very glamorous.”

“Very,” he says with a smile.

“And great in bed,” she adds, and his smile widens.

“Really?”

“Hand to God,” she tells him, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

They settle again, but Mulder doesn’t feel tired. He feels like going for a run or to the shooting range, or banging on the doors of all her neighbors to inform them that he finally got the girl, and it was amazing.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily.

He pulls her closer and lays his hand on her back, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

It’s the first time he can remember feeling happy on Christmas in a very, very long time.

Tagging @today-in-fic

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What’s your take on a Leo 1H stellium? (ASC , mercury , Venus & north node)

Leo Mercury/Venus/NN in 1H

☽｡⋆ This is gives me immediate bright eyed excited for the world energy. Leo ascendants already take up the whole room when they walk in (whether they mean to or not; they naturally command attention) but with Venus here, there’s a certain magnetism that the already attractive and influential Leo ascendant has that amplifies their liveliness and ability to warm others up with their attitude and unwavering attention.

☽｡⋆ Leo Venus enjoys attention, it being in the first house either suggests you do get that attention effortlessly or that’s how your perceived. Meaning even if you don’t enjoy or think you don’t get that much attention others may look at you and assume based off first impressions and or appearances that you do in fact get a lot of positive attention.

☽｡⋆ Leo Venus in the first house can indicate the genuine and big hearted love that Leo naturally has in Venus is greatly expressed in your personality. You love to love and enjoy receiving compliments and giving them to others. "What you give is what you get" and you make sure your sending that positive energy to others tenfold.

☽｡⋆ Leo Mercury in the 1H allows for an individual to outwardly and confidently express their curiosity and thoughts to a wider audience. The fear of being wrong usually is not a problem here as the Leo mercury is so deeply authentic and genuine in its curiosity of the world/people/ideology around them that others can’t be mad/disappointed at whatever may come out of their mouth.

☽｡⋆ Leo Mercury in the 1H also shows a very expressive individual with a communication style that’s extremely dynamic and exciting. These are the type of people I could listen to tell stories about their lives for days just because of how entertaining they are.

☽｡⋆ Leo Mercury in the First house can also indicate being very reactive, especially when it comes to communication, you may be the type to be somewhat performative, or liking the reactions other people give you in response to how YOU react or to what you say (shock value).

☽｡⋆ Leo Mercuries in general seem quite fun, I also love Mercury in the first as in terms of how you come across to other people, others might view you as someone who has a zest for life or constantly on a quest for more knowledge. Combining the genuine and entertaining Leo with the intellectual and communicative ruled planet mercury in your first house of how others view you illustrates an individual who is quite reactive, entertaining but genuine in thought and authentic in how you communicate.

☽｡⋆ North Node in Leo suggests stepping into the spotlight as you age/in this life time. Maybe as a kid or if you believe in past lifetimes, in a past life, would’ve been more focused on the collective and group projects. You prefer to work in groups and it feels natural to connect with and work with other people.

☽｡⋆ South Node in Aquarius suggests it might’ve felt uncomfortable taking up the spotlight, possibly the fear of being recognised, perceived or even judged could’ve gotten in the way of you attuning yourself to your North Node in Leo traits.

☽｡⋆ SN in Aqua indicates preferring to work with the team, being a team player, and collectively collaborating, working on and achieving something together for a greater cause that benefits all.

☽｡⋆ SN in Aqua can also show having a lot of empathy for humanity as a whole as a kid, possibly wanting to donate to charity, or getting involved in things/coming up with ideas as to how you can help on a global level.

☽｡⋆ NN in Leo now suggests to not let go of that collaborative, networking and humanitarian side that your SN (most comfortable state) holds, but to carry those traits with you when embracing your destiny in this life/as you age.

☽｡⋆SN in Aqua can suggest possibly being to grown for your age as a kid. Or wanting to be mature and humble over your achievements as a kid.

☽｡⋆ NN in Leo is more focused on the self, is less focused on group collaboration but is the model on the stage that is presented, the person that entertains and brings about happiness in the crowds.

☽｡⋆ NN in Leo encourages you to be more comfortable in the lime light and to never lower or dismiss your achievements but to openly celebrate with friends and loved ones.

☽｡⋆ NN in Leo is encouraging you to move away from collective effort and more onto the natural creative side you have within and to share it with the community, audience, wider world.

☽｡⋆SN in Aqua might’ve been too focused on what other people needed, what society wanted from them and how they can contribute to society, NN in Leo encourages you to instead harvest and develop your personal talents not for humanity, nor a greater cause or society bur for yourself. By putting yourself first and using your talents and or hobbies to enrich your inner world and mental well-being will you then be able to achieve your SN in Aqua dream of being able to help others on a grand scale.

☽｡⋆This could literally be through any outlet, but because it’s NN in Leo, more than likely a creative pursuit. Music, Painting, Acting, Drawing, Dancing etc anything that’s creative and that calls to heal your inner child that was neglected to focus on bigger things at a young age, do that as it will heal you and eventually heal others.

☽｡⋆ NN in Leo= get comfortable being your more authentic and creative self in FRONT of people, show yourself off and be appreciative of what others have done for you as well as what you have done for yourself, move towards positions where you can take charge, be the centre of attention, be the creator (despite how uncomfortable and or how scary it might feel)

☽｡⋆The accuracy of these observations will vary and are all dependant on other placements in your chart, the aspects that are being made to Mercury, Venus, and North node (are they more harmonious or challenging) as well as if they’re conjuncting the Asc, if you have a Day Chart or a Night chart, and the overall strength and dignity of these planets.

(P.S I wrote this on my phone there may be grammar mistakes)