#when you're mixed race but you grow up with the family you don't pass for lol

[happyk44]

i know nothing about reptiles or komodo dragons but im giggling at the thought of young legoshi behaving more like a komodo dragon than a gray wolf because of his close proximity to his grandfather

[badomensbaby]

rules of the road. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: finally getting your driver's license after moving to the big city for college, you're a bit stunned by your dorky, charming driving instructor.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. flirting/flustering, protected smut, praise kink, mommy kink, car sex, safe sane and consensual, explicit sexual content. (driving instructor! luke, racecar driver! luke)

words: 6,307

a/n: one beautiful evening, as i was driving home with a frosty from wendy's balanced in my lap, i saw a student driver vehicle and i was like! hm! what if... and then this kind of happened. i tried to keep a keen eye while editing but if there's an error, feel free to let me know! <3

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

You weren't a typically nervous person.

Growing up in a town where you practically had to just figure it out on your own, nothing really got under your skin. Not tractor maintenance nor harvest schedules, or that nasty little wasp's nest in the cattle barn in the spring.

But tests, those were a different story.

From college entrance exams to applying for your driver's license, those were the types of tests that made your heart race and your palms clam up. Because it was the unknown that bothered you so much. The unfamiliarity.

And, sprinkle in the fact that you'd left the family farm to pursue a college degree into the mix and every worry's been increased tenfold. As the baby of the family, first daughter behind a handful of rowdy, hard-working boys, being the first of your household to attend college was a serious milestone. You could only hope to make your parents and siblings proud.

But moving to the big city meant learning to drive. Well, legally. You've spent countless hours in your father's farm truck or your grandfather's tractor, you weren't necessarily inexperienced when it came to driving but you've never really been surrounded by other drivers. Just gravel roads and grassy two-tracks and your bothers dirt bikes.

The initial exam, a knowledge test about road signs and rules, wasn't too bad. They'd given you a practice test and a helpful guide booklet when you'd arrived at your appointment. It felt odd, being just barely twenty years old and taking a driver knowledge exam alongside kids barely pushing sixteen. You felt behind but it wasn't your fault.

Nerves didn't erupt in your stomach until the kind lady in the Secretary of State's office informed you that you'd be taking an on-road driver skills test. An instructor will watch you, quiz you, and grade you accordingly and if you fail, you can kiss your ability to drive legally goodbye until you pass.

Now that makes you nervous. Like there's ravenous butterflies swarming your stomach. You're already under a lot of pressure with fall classes starting soon and your part-time job, now you're worried about passing your driver's exam. The lady assured you there's nothing to fret over, that the instructor you've been assigned is well versed in the rules of the road and he's a total sweetheart.

Waiting in the parking lot wasn't the worst part. You were told he'd arrive shortly, a man named Mr. Hemmings, in one of the contracted company's instructing vehicles. Plastered with bright yellow stickers along the back, just shouting to everyone on the road that you're an inexperienced driver so take it easy.

Expecting some middle aged, married, grumpy man with nothing positive to say, the nerves weren't so bad as you basked in the moderate heat of the Michigan summer sun. Your phone pings a few times, a slew of good lucks and you've got this! from your family members. You don't even realize there's a stark white Toyota Camry pulling up to the curb until the scuff of shoes on the asphalt catches your attention.

"Y/N L/N?" A thick, low voice questions. A text message to your eldest brother sits unfinished beneath your thumbs, lips parting with shock. There's no bald patch or flat tire sticking out beneath his shirt, hell it barely looks like he's wearing a shirt at all because the white fabric is so snug and pulled taught over his abdomen and chest and arms that it's absolutely ludicrous. "Y/N?" he repeats.

"Yeah- yeah, that's me," You hesitantly stand, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jeans before brushing your now clammy hands along your thighs. His eyes flicker between the clipboard in his hand and you, shamelessly raking up and down your frame before clearing his throat.

"Great," His lips twist into a wide, toothy smile, shoulders seemingly relaxing at the confirmation. His stance laxes, nodding his head of bouncy, golden curls towards the vehicle that's idling behind him. "Why don't we go ahead and get started?"

You nod, swallowing the thick lump forming in your throat, hardly maintaining eye contact with the instructor as you climb into the driver's seat and watch him awkwardly fit himself into the seat beside you. "Okay," He blows out a breath. "I'm Mr. Hemmings but you can just call me Luke, it's easier and nobody likes saying a long name especially if you're in a panic."

You barely manage a short, clipped laugh. "Rad. Anyway, we're gonna be in here for the next hour or so. I'm mainly here to make sure you understand vehicle safety and that you're prepared to operate this beauty on your own," With a laugh, Mr. Hemmings taps the dashboard with his palm. "Well, not this beauty obviously, but you get my point. Oh! And I have break pedals over here just in case. I haven't used them yet this month so please don't put us in a situation where I might need to."

He's funny, you'll admit. In a dorky, charming kind of way. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time and you're curious if he's just that way in general or if it's a front because he probably deals with some right idiots when it comes to being an instructor. "You're quiet."

"Sorry," You mumble, hands still folded in your lap. "I'm just a bit nervous."

"There's really no need," he assures you, turning in his seat with an excited smile. "If you've passed your vision and knowledge tests then this is like, a cakewalk. Have you driven before?"

"Yeah, back home," You tell him. "Mostly just old trucks, though. I don't think I've ever driven a proper car."

"Cool, car virgin. I like that," Luke turns his attention back to the clipboard, scribbling something that you're unable to make out because it's complete chicken scratch. "Well, why don't we get going so we can stay on track."

"Okay," You breathe out, clasping the seatbelt over your lap. Under your breath, you rattle off the first steps of safety before your hands ever touch the steering wheel. Seatbelt, check. Rearview mirror, check. Side mirrors, check. When everything seems as it should, you rest one hand on the wheel before shifting the vehicle into drive, peering out of the passenger's side mirror to ensure no cars are coming up behind you in the lot.

Luke stays silent, observing you, pen hovering over his checklist sheet. As you head towards the exit, you realize you have absolutely no clue where you're meant to go. "Uhh-"

"Take a left here," Luke tells you. Signaling, you check both ways for any oncoming traffic before exiting the parking lot, keeping an eye on the speed limit signs posted on the side of the road. "And at the next light, hang a right. We'll follow that through downtown and then get you on the highway for a bit."

Nodding, you try to keep yourself composed and not let the nerves get to you as you follow his instruction. You make sure to slow down appropriately as you cruise through the city's downtown area, briefly taking in the brick buildings and shops as you pass.

The vehicle's air is a little stiff, a little warm underneath the summer sun and you're considering asking Luke if he can turn the air on but he's too busy drumming his fingertips along his bare thigh to really pay you any mind. You'd always heard that driving instructors were very observant, overly cautious and very strict about everything but Luke's so laid back it's slowly beginning to relieve your nerves.

"Would you mind turning on the air?" Luke asks, eyes soft and kind when you glance over at him. You're just trekking along behind other vehicles, following signs for the highway that's still a few miles out. It's probably one of the things on his checklist, for you to tinker with something and hope it doesn't distract you enough to cause any accidents.

Glancing at the various knobs, luckily they're standard and simple, similar to your father's truck so pressing two buttons quickly has cool air flowing into the car. You feel a little more at ease, less of an iron grip on the steering wheel. "You're doing great, by the way." Luke chimes in.

"Thanks," You keep an eye on the Jeep that keeps randomly breaking in front of you, easing off of the accelerator when applicable. You weren't a newbie when it came to driving itself, just following the actual road laws and learning the flow of traffic. "I need to turn right up here?" You ask.

Luke hums with a nod. He's began muttering some tune under his breath along with his finger-drumming, as if he isn't remotely worried about you merging onto the highway. Picking up speed, you join alongside the few cars rumbling along the road. "We'll take this to the next town over, about thirty minutes, then we'll head back and do a few simple maneuvers and that's it."

You nod, fighting the urge to sigh. Who knew your road test would be so boring? There's no music, just the sound of your tires on the asphalt and Luke's low humming. "Why'd you decide to become an instructor? Isn't it- well, boring?"

A slow chuckle slips out of your instructor's mouth, elbow perched on the door, hand clasped against the side of his face. "It's not all boring, I swear. I just like helping people become confident drivers. You'd be surprised how many students I've had that are too terrified to even start the engine."

"You're pretty laid back, it's definitely making me less nervous," You laugh softly, keeping your eyes on the empty road. "Helps that you're not bad looking either."

Shit, you weren't meant to say that.

In your peripheral, you can see Luke squirm slightly in his seat, instantly worrying that you've made him uncomfortable. You're about to retract your statement and apologize but the grin that overtakes his pink lips stops you. "Thank you," he says honestly, his tone a little strained. "So are you. I mean, I wouldn't say not bad looking, you're pretty- like quite pretty- and okay, is it a little warm in here? Jeez."

You stifle a laugh at his nervous rambling. It's cute, kind of refreshing, too. But a weight settles in your stomach because no, you absolutely cannot think your driving instructor is cute. Doesn't that cross some kind of line? Break a rule? It has to. "So- are you uh.. getting your driver's license to.. drive to your boyfriend's house orr.."

Oh god, he's also pretty damn terrible at flirting. Normally, you'd find it cringey and a tad obnoxious but it's cute on him. Adorable, even, because he's definitely a handful of years older than you but he flusters so easily it makes your confidence soar.

There's nothing wrong with indulging in it, is there? It's not like you're gonna fuck him on the side of the highway or anything.

"No boyfriend," You keep a straight face, like you're intently focused on the billboards you pass by. "Or girlfriend." You tack on, just to see him flounder a little more.

"Oh- yeah, rad," Luke nods a few times. "That's- yeah, okay, cool."

God, he's so fucking cute. How'd you get so damn lucky to have him as an instructor?

Luke's tapping the window ledge aimlessly, almost looking uncomfortable but not with you, like something's gnawing at him. "Hey, can you pull off at this rest stop for a minute? I need to- uh- bathroom. Yeah."

"Sure." You signal off, slowing down as you near the small building, only a few cars scattered in the parking lot. Luke quickly unbuckles himself and slips out of the car, almost too fast for you to realize there's a tent in his shorts. Well, fuck.

You've never really been the hook-up type in the past, coming from such a small town there's slim pickings when you know everyone's faults. Only when your family would travel up to Mackinac Island or down to Kalamazoo to visit family would you end up fooling around with some local for an afternoon but that didn't happen very often.

Though the circumstances aren't ideal, there's obviously some kind of attraction on both sides. Probably just some silly short-term infatuation and who knows what's running through Luke's mind. But he's hot, there's no denying that, and guilt tugs at your chest because he's here to do a job and you're just being a massive distraction.

Luke returns about fifteen minutes later, a little flushed in the face but there's this look he's sporting that looks nothing short of pure bliss. You're not stupid, you can recognize a post-orgasm haze from a million miles away.

God, did he really get off in a public rest stop bathroom? What the hell was he so worked up over? You bite back any inappropriate questions lingering on your tongue as he buckles himself in and you merge back onto the highway.

Luke doesn't say a word until it's time to circle back. He's quiet, too quiet, thrumming his fingers against his knee in a rhythm you aren't able to recognize. You decide to go the exact speed limit, setting the cruise control and waiting for Luke to ask why you've done that but no such comment comes.

"You okay?" You finally ask. The two of you are trapped in here for at least another thirty minutes on the highway alone, then likely another twenty or thirty around town after that. The silence isn't deafening but it's making you a little uneasy.

"Me? Yeah- I'm great. Fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing's wrong. Everything's peachy." The instructor rambles.

Something's definitely wrong. You're not a very confrontational person but you'd rather have whatever issue at hand out in the open than let it linger silently the remainder of your test. "Luke-"

As you're getting his attention, the car begins to splutter. Numerous lights illuminate the dashboard, a loud rumbling sound making the steering wheel shake beneath your hands. Immediately, Luke begins to press on the emergency instructor's breaks and with some guidance, he helps you pull off on the shoulder just as the engine dies.

Not believing the sight before you, you turn to Luke, who's equally as shocked and silent, both of your chests heaving. "What the hell?" You ask aloud.

"I have no clue," Luke says frantically. "The car's been running fine all day. There weren't any warning lights, were there?"

Truthfully, you don't remember. "I don't.. think so? All of them lit up before it crapped out."

"Shit," Luke curses lowly. "Let me see if I can figure out what's going on."

Luke slips out of the Camry, leaving his clipboard behind. You hear him yell, muffled, "Pop the hood!" And you do, after taking a second to find the button with your shaky fingers.

The longer Luke is beneath the hood the longer you worry. It's an early Thursday evening, on a fairly quiet highway, and the likelihood that some passerby is going to offer assistance is slim. Plus, tow trucks in this area only operate within a ten mile radius, so it's unlikely you'll find one for a reasonable price if the car is toast.

This is what you get for thinking he's cute, your brain tosses at you. You know it isn't true but it's kind of ironic, isn't it?

Luke slips back inside the car. "Well, one of the hoses broke," He sighs, digging through the pockets of his shorts in search of his cellphone. "So the car won't start even if we wanted it to. We'll have to call a tow truck."

"Of course this would happen during my driving exam," You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as a low, frustrated groan crawls up your throat. "Just my luck."

"I probably shouldn't include the fact that I have no service then, should I?"

Your eyes pry open. "What?" You ask, finding your phone and sure enough, no fucking signal. "Seriously? We're on the damn highway, not in the middle of the ocean!"

"Hey, we'll be fine," Luke rests his hand momentarily on your shoulder and you try to ignore the goosebumps rising on your skin. Sheepishly, he pulls it away. "I'll see if I can make an emergency call to highway patrol."

"Please do," You mumble weakly.

Your father would have a field day if he could see you. Barely a week into living away from them and you're stranded on the side of the highway with a hot driving instructor. What a joke.

With no luck, Luke groans, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. "My phone died," he says. "Can you call on yours?"

"Yeah," You dial using your phone's emergency function, only to be met with CALL FAILED in big letters. "How the hell can an emergency call fail?"

"Okay, well at least we've both probably eaten recently and I keep snacks in the trunk," You toss a glare towards the blonde, not finding his statement remotely relieving at all. "What? Teenagers get grumpy so I always have granola bars on hand."

"So we're stuck," You sigh softly. Luke nods, hands toying with one another. "Until I get signal or someone passing by takes pity on us."

"I'm sorry Y/N," Luke says quietly. "About- about all of this. I really had no idea, this car's never given me any problems."

"It's not your fault," You glance over at him, noticing his lower lip tucked between his teeth. "I'm gonna walk a bit and see if I can get signal, alright?"

"You shouldn't go alone," Luke says, a bit rushed. "I mean, not that you aren't capable or anything because I'm sure you are - female empowerment and all that I just- uh-"

"Just stay here," You say, a little clipped. You aren't upset with him, just the situation. "I'll be right back."

Luke swallows thickly, blue eyes wide. "Yes m'am."

You slip out of the car and begin walking along the shoulder, grass and gravel crunching beneath your feet, checking your cellphone every few seconds in hopes that a signal will appear. A big fat SOS stares back at you, practically mocking you.

After ten or so minutes, you aren't sure how far you've walked but you can't see the Camry anymore. You know it'll cool off soon as the sun begins to set and it'll be best if you're somewhere safe. Regretfully, you head back to the car to find Luke scribbling on his clipboard in the passenger seat.

"Nothing," You say, checking your phone once more, noticing it's been about thirty minutes since you've pulled off the road. "What're you drawing over there?"

"Just doodling," He says, showing you a mix of scribbles along the bottom of your driving checklist. "What else am I supposed to do? We're stuck for the time being."

"Yeah, you're right."

It's silent for a few minutes, aside from Luke's been inking the checklist. "We could.. play a game, maybe? Something to keep our minds off of.. y'know, the whole car breaking down thing."

"What kind of game?" You ask.

"Oh- uh, twenty questions?" Luke offers.

You snort. Twenty questions is for horny teenagers, not two almost-strangers stuck in a broken down vehicle on the side of the highway. "Guess that's a no."

"What about what are the odds?" You suggest. "I played it all the time with my soccer friends, it's pretty fun."

"Okay," Luke agrees. "You'll have to explain the rules to me, though."

You sit up a little straighter, a smile unknowingly tugging at your lips. Maybe there's an ulterior motive ping-ponging in the back of your mind. Maybe.

"It's really easy. One of us says something like 'what are the odds that you'll make an embarrassing noise', then pick a number in your head, and on the count of three we'll both say a number and if it's the same the other person has to do that thing. Make sense?"

"I think I've got it," Luke nods, turning in his seat with excited eyes. He looks fucking adorable. You shake your head, getting comfortable in the seat. "Okay, can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay- uh, what are the odds that you'll.. you'll- tell me something about yourself?"

That's not quite it but a good start, Luke.

"One through fifteen." You say. "Three.. two... one.."

"Ten."

"Twelve."

"Ah, shit," Luke frowns. "I don't think I'm very good at this."

"You'll get the hang of it," You tap his knee with the back of your hand without a thought, watching his cheeks twinge pink. "I'll go. What are the odds you'll pass me?"

"One in.. ten," Luke says. "Three.. two.. one.."

"Six."

"Six."

"Aha!" You grin, victoriously. "See, I'm a mindreader."

"As if I'd flunk you," Luke rolls his eyes. "You're a good driver, Y/N. You need to be a little more confident but there's no way I'd fail you."

You need to be a little more confident. Sure, Luke was talking about driving but that doesn't mean you can't apply that statement to anything else, right?

"Alright, my turn," Luke rolls his lips in thought. "What are the odds that.. you'd be my friend on Facebook?"

"Facebook?" You ask, a brow raised. "Nobody uses Facebook anymore, Luke."

"I do," Luke defends softly, shoulders drawing inward. "Just play along, Y/N."

"Okay, fine," You laugh softly. "Uhh, one in ten. Three.. two.. one.."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Damn, looks like we won't be Facebook friends," You tease, the flush still bright and red and pretty on Luke's cheeks. He's so easy to fluster. You almost regret what you're about to say. "What are the odds you'll admit the real reason we stopped at the rest area?"

Luke's face falls. "I.." He glances away from you, clearly caught off guard and there's a stinging in your chest. You should've just kept your mouth shut, he didn't deserve to be called out like that.

"I'm so sorry, that was too far, I-"

"It's..okay," Luke lets out a wavering breath. "I feel really bad about that," Your brows furrow. "Look I- I think you're really pretty and this is so, so unprofessional of me but I uh- you said girlfriend and my mind just- went off on it's own. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden. "You were thinking of me with- oh."

Luke looks away, clearly embarrassed, a blush blooming down his neck. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was really inappropriate and I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," You assure him. Luke looks like a kicked puppy, unsure as his eyes slowly meet yours, not quite believing you. "Seriously, it's fine. I- yeah, I'm also into girls. I don't blame you for your.. thoughts, or whatever."

Luke sucks in a sharp breath, like you've said something sinfully explicit. "I- maybe we should end the game here before I say something really stupid."

He isn't covert about it, covering his growing hard-on, beginning to tent his shorts. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, trailing along the inside of your lower lip. Fuck, you have quite the opportunity here and it would be a shame if you let it go to waste. Consensually, of course.

"You're thinking about me with a girl again, aren't you?" You boldly accuse, your eyes narrowing in a teasing manner, watching Luke's gentle blue eyes widen and mouth fall open. "It's okay if you are."

He's so.. submissive. You've never really explored the whole dynamic of positions like that but making your instructor blush and squirm makes you feel.. hot.

"Maybe," Luke's voice is small, soft, and you're loving every second of it. "Y/N, I-"

"What're you thinking about, Luke?" You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the center console, your tone low. "Me kissing another girl, maybe? Getting all hot and bothered and messy and wet?"

A whimper crawls up his throat. "I- fuck."

You trail a finger along his thigh, tracing the leg of his shorts. "Maybe you'd just watch, huh?" You provoke him, watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah- I would.." His voice is weak, lips parting and soft little pants escaping them. He's so easy for it, you love it. The dominance rolling off of you in waves seems to come naturally and who are you to deny it? "Y/N.."

"What, Luke? What do you need?"

Need. Luke keens. "I.. can I.."

"You wanna touch yourself?" You ask.

"No.. you, please."

You hum. How can you say no, when he sounds so wrecked like that? "Think there's enough room for us in the back there?"

"Don't wanna.. move," Luke mumbles, eyes already glazed over. He's so far gone. "My lap?"

You won't toy with him anymore, not when he's offering to get you off. To touch you. God, his fingers are beautiful and long and you're dying to have them buried inside of you. "Yeah, 'kay." You puff out, watching Luke adjust himself properly and helping guide you to sit in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

It isn't ideal but it'll work. He works with shaky, excited hands to unfasten the button and zipper of your jean shorts before trailing his fingers along the waistline of your underwear. "Can I?" You nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip in anticipation.

Without hesitance, Luke dips his hand into the waistband, finding your damp heat with ease. His fingers curl around you, whimpering at the warmth before a finger slips inside of you, slick and velvety. "Oh- fuck."

"Luke," You moan out softly, clasping a hand on the instructor's shoulder. He carries a steady pace, sliding a second finger beside the first, brutally hard at the warmth coating his digits. "Fuck, feels so good."

"You're so wet," He mumbles, like he's surprised, peering up at your blissed out features. "Fuck, did I- did I do this to you?"

"Yes," Your hips shift greedily, making his fingers sink deeper into you. "You're just so.."

"So?" You can feel his breath against your collarbone through your shirt.

"So needy," You moan, rotating your hips, effectively riding Luke's fingers, like he's some kind of toy. "It's so hot, how hard you get so easily- I- fuck, there."

"Y/N," Luke pants against you, his free hand trailing up to your hip, holding tightly. "Wanna make you cum, please."

"Yeah?" You breathe out. "Gonna let me ride your fingers? Fuck myself until I cum?"

"Oh god," Luke trembles, his movements faltering but it doesn't matter, you're moving steadily and the more you shift the more his fingers hit that perfect spot. You can feel it in your toes, that you're close, but you need something else to get you there.

"Did you think about me?" You ask, a light sweat forming on your brow. "When you got off in the bathroom? Did you moan for me?"

"Yes," Luke admits in a whine. "Yes- fucking- came so hard, Y/N. Thought of you the whole time."

Just thinking about Luke, working his cock so quickly in his fist thinking about you is enough, warmth flooding your stomach as your orgasm rapidly approaches and you're releasing all over Luke's fingers. Like a fucking floodgate.

"Oh fuck," You hear him moan, fingers slowing as your hips come to a halt. "Fuck, Y/N."

Blissful and warm and flushed, Luke retracts his fingers from you, the digits glistening as he slips them into his mouth with needy, complacent hums. He looks more wrecked than you do.

"Can I- can I ride you?" You blurt.

Luke goes rigid. "What?"

"I wanna ride you," You reiterate. "I wanna fuck you, Luke. Can I?"

"You- yeah, fuck of course," Luke's eyes are blue and glassy and glazed and you aren't even sure how he's functioning right now. He hasn't even cum yet so- wait. "Just give me a minute.."

Curiously, you shift back a bit on his lap to see he's half-hard and there's an obvious damp patch on the front of his shorts. "Did you cum while you were touching me?"

Luke nods. "Sorry."

"Fuck that's so hot," You can't help it, fitting both hands beneath his jaw to tilt his head upward, capturing his lips easily with your own. He tastes like spearmint gum and flavored coffee, it's all you can think about when you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip. That was too easy, you can already feel his dick fattening against your thigh again. "Do you have a condom?"

"In my wallet," Luke pants against your mouth. "I wasn't like- expecting this, by the way."

"Neither was I," You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Let me get my shorts off."

Car sex seems so hot in theory until you're caught up in the moment and you're stuck trying to take off clothing where it's just not possible. You manage to slip your shorts off, leaving your damp underwear on before claiming Luke's lap once again. The condom sits in the crevice between his thigh and hip, fly open and dick straining against the seam of his boxers.

"Get yourself ready for me," You tell him softly, your fingertips trailing along your lower abdomen, along the inside of your shirt to cup your breasts beneath your bra. Luke's in a trance, nearly swallowing his own tongue before nodding and barely wiggling his shorts and boxers down his hips. He slips the condom on, abandoning the foil packet god knows where, before stroking himself a few times with a gentle hiss. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Luke squirms at that. "Thank you," he mutters. "Can I- are you ready?"

"So ready," He carefully aligns his hips with yours before slowly pressing inside, letting out tiny whimpers with every inch he sinks in. "Fuck."

"Y/N," Luke moans, eyes threatening to fall shut. His hands find your thighs, blunt nails digging into the soft skin there, hips threatening to rut upwards at the sheer warmth encasing his cock. It's immeasurable, how good you feel wrapped snugly around him.

"So good, Luke, you're doing so good," You praise gently, holding yourself upright with your hands on his broad shoulders. Once he's buried to the hilt, you slowly rock your hips in a circle, eliciting a short gasp from the blonde. "Such a good boy."

The simple phrase makes Luke choke on his own breath. "You're so warm," he mumbles, lips barely moving, chest rising and falling steadily. You rock your hips again. "Oh my god."

Luke isn't like the guys you've slept with before. He's sensitive and responsive and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. It's like he's fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, you begin to bounce in his lap, testing the waters. Luke moans every time you sink down.

"Yeah?" You ask him after a particularly whiny moan falls from his mouth. "Feel good, Luke? Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels so good," He babbles, a wheezy, whining mess every bounce you make. It's slick and wet and so fucking hot you know you'll cum again sometime soon. He's hitting all the right spots inside of you. It helps he's probably the biggest dick you've taken by far. "So good. Please don't stop, please."

"Not gonna stop," You mutter, nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders. "You're such a good boy, Luke. Taking it so well. Feel so good inside me."

Luke lets out a squeak when you clench around him. "Mommy-"

Your hips falter briefly but you can't stop, you refuse, because that word, though you've never been called that before it lights a flame inside of your stomach that makes you want more and more and more. "Yeah?" You abandon your grip on one of his shoulders to clasp his jaw, making Luke meet your eyes, his half lidded and cloudy and dark blue. "Gonna let mommy fuck you, Luke? Ride your cock until she cums?"

Luke bites down on his lower lip so hard he swears he can taste blood. His head is swirling, like yours, all fuzzy and fucked dumb. Your pace grows quicker, a bit more focused but frenzied, until Luke's panting to the point where he's babbling words that don't even make any sense. "Gonna- please- need-"

"What, Luke? What do you need?" You ask, ghosting your lips over his own. He whimpers against your mouth.

"Wanna cum, mommy. Can I?"

"Yeah baby," You press a hard kiss to his mouth, pushing your tongue past his lips and that's all he needs, gripping your thighs tightly until he's fully inside of you before releasing into the condom. Luke slumps slightly, clearly spent but you're far from finished. "Stay still, won't you?"

"What-" Luke mutters, flushed and confused when you begin to raise your hips and sink back down on him. "Oh fuck me."

"So close, Luke," He isn't softening in the slightest. It almost makes you smile, makes you proud because he's so turned on, just letting you use him like some kind of fuck toy. "Touch me?"

Luke nods, blissed out, attaching his thumb to your clit and rubbing furious, hard circles. Your thighs tremble as your orgasm builds up, toes curling inside of your shoes before finally letting go and releasing all over his length.

Shuddering through the warmth spreading up the base of your spine, your nails sink into the instructor's shoulders, panting against his mouth as he tips his head up to connect your lips in a soft kiss. Your skin feels tingly in the best way, electric, and your head swarming furiously.

Luke pulls away first. He's so flushed, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck and you're positive that pretty pink blush has reached his naval, there's no doubt. He's definitely a full-body blusher. "Y/N.."

"Yeah?" You ask quietly, breathless, noticing the windows have fogged up a little bit from your activities.

"Can you.. sorry, it's just uh- the condom's a bit uncomfortable." The blonde grimaces apologetically, reddening further when you muffle out a short laugh and slowly climb off of him. Your underwear are soaked, from your own release, but you slide your shorts back on anyways as Luke ties off the condom and places it hesitantly on the floorboard.

Now that the two of you are dressed, less short on breath, you figure it might be best to address what the hell just happened. "Luke-"

"Y/N-"

"Sorry, go ahead," You mumble.

"I wasn't- planning that. Or, expecting it, I swear," Luke says rather quickly, eyes flitting away from you, a bit embarrassed. "Please don't think I make a habit of this. You're- you're the first."

You swallow harshly. "The first?"

A nervous, awkward laugh tumbles out of Luke's mouth. "No, no, that was a girlfriend in high school. I mean- uh- student."

"Oh," You puff out a relieved breath, resting your head back. You're still warm and relaxed from your orgasms. "Well in that case, I don't really sleep with driving instructors, so I guess it's a first for both of us."

"It's not.." Luke trails off, his voice low, like he isn't sure how to phrase what he's thinking. "It won't be the only time, will it?"

That comes as a bit of a surprise to you. Again, you weren't really the hook-up type but the guys you have hooked up with in the past were quick to forget it even happened and move on with their lives.

You're stunned into a short silence. Will that be the only time you hook up with Luke? Sure, he's funny, and insanely attractive, but aside from the few things you've shared during the drive he's still almost a complete stranger.

"I understand," Luke quietly says.

"No I- sorry, I was just- surprised," You say. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not in a broken down car on the side of the highway."

Luke chuckles briefly. "Okay, cool," The tension seems to slip from his shoulders. "Sorry, I'm not really good at this. I don't really uh- date? Just, with work and everything it's hard to find the time."

"Being a driving instructor is that demanding?" You inquire, a lighthearted teasing lift to your voice. The highway is still dead silent and the sun is slowly beginning to set. Soon, you'll be cast in a hue of pinks and oranges and pretty purples.

"I race for a living," Luke says, catching your attention abruptly, your brows furrowing in confusion. "It's not something I really bring up in conversation or during uh- other things."

"You're not like, a Nascar driver or something, right?" You joke. Luke stays silent. "What the fuck?"

Way to go, Y/N. Fucking a driving instructor slash Nascar driver. Your parents would be so proud. Stupid girl.

"Like I said, I don't really tell people," Luke quickly defends, swallowing as an anxious look perturbs his features. "This doesn't uh- change anything right? About seeing me again?"

"No but if my dad finds out you're gonna be forced into every Sunday dinner until you're dead," You speak without thinking, still shocked about Luke's line of work. And here you were thinking he was just a dorky driving instructor for the state of Michigan. "Sorry, that was weird."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. He took your comment well, like too well, and you're starting to think maybe Luke isn't real at this point. He's too.. perfect. Handsome, dorky, a fucking racecar driver. "You're fine, I get it. Your dad's a big fan, then?"

"Huge," You sigh. "My brothers, too."

"You think they'd come to a race if I set aside some tickets?" Luke's teeth sink into his bottom lip, a hopeful look on his splotchy, pink face.

"I- I mean yeah," You stumble. "Luke, you really don't have to.."

"I want to," He reassures you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I really wanna see you again and if free tickets is the way I can then, I'd be dumb not to offer."

"For the record, I'd see you again regardless of the free tickets," You tell him, leaning to rest your elbows on the console. One of his eyebrows arch curiously, in a way that's so damn hot and Luke doesn't even realize it.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," You confirm. "By the way-"

You're cut off by the chirping of a siren, glancing out of the rearview mirror to see a State Trooper has parked behind you, lights flashing.

Well fuck. This'll be fun.

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 22 — werewolf hs

Y/N Y/L/N returns to her hometown, Alsfield, when her father falls ill, only to discover the town hides a dark secret—one protected by the mysterious Harry Styles. As Y/N unravels the town's mysteries, her plans to return to San Francisco are derailed. 

Author's note: Hi everyone, I need your help. I’m $1,000 short on my medical tuition, and the deadline is January 13. With 2,800 followers, even $1 from some of you could make a huge difference. If you’ve enjoyed my writing, please consider donating or sharing. I'M DESPERATE. PLEASE HELP ME! HELP ME HELP MY MOM! I don't know what else I can do.

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-> lycan masterlist <-

Y/N lay on Harry's bed, her mind racing with the events of the evening. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls. Harry lay beside her, his hand entwined with hers, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin.

"Thank you for introducing me to your parents" Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence. She turned her head to look at Harry, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

Harry smiled, a warmth in his gaze that made her heart flutter. "I knew they'd love you," he replied. "Mum's been asking about you for weeks, and Dad... well, he's always curious about anyone I bring up in conversation."

Y/N chuckled softly. "I can't believe how kind they were. I was so nervous."

Harry's grip on her hand tightened slightly. "You had nothing to worry about. You're part of this now, part of me. They can see that."

She felt a rush of emotions at his words. Part of him. The thought was both comforting and daunting. Her mind wandered back to dinner, the laughter, the easy conversations, and the warmth of Harry's family. It was so different from what she had known growing up. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a future where such evenings were a regular occurrence.

"Your mum's story about you as a kid, running around in nothing but a cape, was adorable," Y/N said, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Harry groaned, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "She loves to embarrass me."

"I think all parents do," Y/N said softly, her gaze serious now.

Harry's expression shifted, giving way to something deeper, more profound. He reached out, gently cupping her face in his hand. "I still can’t believe I have finally found you”.

They lay in silence for a moment, the weight of their words settling around them. Y/N could feel the pull of sleep tugging at her, but there was still so much she wanted to understand, so many questions she needed answers to.

"Harry," she began hesitantly, "do you think we can talk about meeting with the elders?"

Harry's eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. He took a deep breath, his expression turning serious.

“I’ve already talked to them,” he admitted. “They’re willing to meet you, but they want to go through the binding ceremony first.”

Y/N furrowed her brow, curiosity and apprehension mixing in her eyes. “What’s that?”

Harry sat up slightly, propping himself on one elbow so he could look directly at her. “The binding ceremony is an ancient ritual. It’s where you bind to everyone in the pack, creating a deep, unbreakable connection with each member. If they accept you during the ceremony, you officially become their Luna.”

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. “What happens if they don’t accept me?”

Harry’s gaze softened as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek. “You don’t need to worry about that. They’ve already seen how you’ve handled everything so far, and they trust my judgment. The ceremony is more about formalizing what’s already there.”

“Can you tell me more about it? What will I need to do?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“The ceremony is held in the heart of the forest,” Harry explained. “It’s a sacred place for our pack. You’ll stand before the elders and the pack members, and you’ll pledge your loyalty and commitment to them. In return, they’ll offer their support and protection. It’s a mutual bond. There’s also a physical aspect to it—an exchange of energy that solidifies the bond.”

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to absorb the information. “What does the exchange of energy involve?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s a bit difficult to explain. It’s like sharing a part of your essence with the pack and receiving a part of theirs in return. It can be intense, but it’s also incredibly powerful. It’s what will make you truly one of us.”

Y/N looked into Harry’s eyes, finding strength and reassurance in his gaze. “And you’ll be there with me?”

“Every step of the way,” he promised. “You won’t be alone”.

She took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement. “When will the ceremony take place?”

“That is entirely up to you,” Harry replied.

“Can we do it tomorrow?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with determination.

Harry’s face broke into a relieved smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m so proud of you, pup. You continue to surprise me every day. I’ll talk to the elders tomorrow so we can start preparations for you initiation”

The next day, Harry was the first to wake up. The early morning air was crisp and biting, a thin layer of frost coating the windowpanes. He hated leaving her alone in the warm cocoon of their bed, but he needed to get the day started. As he gently disentangled himself from her embrace, the cold air rushed in, making him shiver. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and gave her mark a tender kiss, whispering, "I’ll be back”

After a quick shower, Harry dressed warmly and headed downstairs. The sky was still a muted gray, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. He had a long day ahead—patrol duty across the territory, a council meeting about the rogue threat, and a discussion with the elders. He also needed to brief Niall on recent events.

Harry stepped out into the front yard of the pack house, where the chilly air was filled with the faint crunch of frost underfoot. The high rank pack members were gathering for their morning jog, their breaths visible in the cold air.

"Good morning," Harry greeted everyone with a nod, his breath forming small clouds. He scanned the crowd and turned to Axel. "Where's Niall?"

Axel, the young omega of the pack, looked around and shrugged. "Sleeping. You know how he is," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite his youth, Axel was eager to prove himself, and Harry appreciated his dedication.

"I’m right here," came a familiar voice. Niall approached the group, yawning and rubbing his eyes. His disheveled hair and sleepy demeanor brought a chuckle from the pack.

"How come you always expect the worst of me?" Niall asked, a playful grin on his face.

“It’s a habit” As the pack members gathered around, Harry outlined the day's plans—patrol routes, updates on the rogue situation.

The atmosphere was serious yet tinged with a sense of unity and purpose.

After brief discussions and instructions, Harry led the pack on their morning jog through the frost-covered paths of the territory. The cold air invigorated them, their breaths misting in front of them as they moved in sync, a testament to their strength and unity as a pack.

Throughout the morning, Harry's mind was both focused on the tasks at hand and occasionally drifting back to Y/N, hoping she was warm and comfortable back at the pack house.

As the jog came to an end and the pack dispersed to their respective duties, Harry made his way to the council meeting, his mind already racing with strategies and plans to ensure the pack's safety and unity in the face of looming threats.

“I’ll see you two in an hour” With a nod to Axel and Niall, he turned towards the pack house. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow across the hallway.

Reaching his bedroom door, Harry paused for a moment. His thoughts briefly lingered on Y/N, still nestled in their bed, where a few hours ago they had shared a tender cuddle. He smiled to himself, feeling the warmth of their connection, before even seeing her or entering the room.

He quietly stepped in not wanting to wake her up. Harry could only see the side of her head in the ocean of the comforter. Inside, the room was a blend of Harry’s rugged demeanor and Y/N’s softer touches. A few scatter books on her nightstand spoke of Y/N’s reading habits, while Harry’s worn jacket hung proudly over a chair. He loved that it was no longer only his bedroom, but their bedroom.

Harry left his shoes by the door, not wanting to wake her up. He walked past the bed and to his closet. He chose a fresh set of clothes suitable for the day’s responsibilities, a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater. As he undressed, his gaze wanted to the window, where the distant howl of a wolf pierced the stillness.

Stepping into the shower, he welcomed the sensation of hot water, cascading over him, washing the remnants of the morning’s jog. The steam filled the air, soothing tired muscles and clearing his mind for the challenges ahead.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he emerged from the shower, his reflection in the mirror a stoic reminder of his responsibilities He combed his fingers through his damp hair, dark strands falling into place. “Good morning”

“Good morning” he said to just woken up Y/N who sat on the bed with puffy eyes and messy hair. He had returned to the bedroom in search for boxers and socks.

Y/N groggily rubbed her eyes, struggling to adjust to the early morning light filtering through the curtains. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"It's barely seven in the morning. You should go back to bed, pup," Harry replied, a small smile playing on his lips. He found it incredibly adorable how confused and dazed she looked, her hair tousled and her eyes half-closed.

Y/N gave him a sleepy pout, but the pet name brought a warm feeling to her chest. "But we're supposed to meet the elders today," she mumbled, trying to shake off her drowsiness.

Harry chuckled softly and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "We still have a few hours before we need to leave. There's plenty of time for you to rest a bit more”.

She sighed, knowing he was right but feeling too anxious to fall back asleep. "I guess I'm just nervous," she admitted, her eyes meeting his.

Harry's expression softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I know. I have a few meetings and I’ll come get you so we can meet up with them”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Alright, I'll try to rest a bit more." She lay back down, feeling the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of Harry's presence next to her.

Harry went into the bathroom and changed out of the towel into his boxers. Even as he got ready, he could still sense her anxiety and stress. Concerned, he returned to the bedroom and lay down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I'll stay here with you until you fall back asleep," he murmured against her hair.

She closed her eyes, the steady rhythm of his breathing soothing her frayed nerves. As she drifted back to sleep, she felt a deep sense of security in Harry's arms.

The meetings with the council were always stressful to say the least. Sometimes they frustrated Harry because everyone had an opinion and though their way was the best. However, the investigation towards of the rouge had been in a halt and he needed help figuring out what to do to find the culprit.

"We need to enforce a stricter curfew," one of the council members stated. "We haven't been able to pick up any scent."

"Locking everyone up will just lead to more economic problems," Niall countered. "Businesses are already suffering."

The council room fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on everyone present. Harry stood at the head of the table, his brows furrowed in thought. He knew both sides had valid points, and the challenge was finding a balance that would protect the town without crippling its economy.

"We need to find a compromise," Harry said finally, his voice calm but firm. "What if we implement a curfew that still allows essential businesses to operate? We can focus our patrols around those areas to ensure safety."

Niall nodded thoughtfully. "That could work. It would allow businesses to continue operating while still maintaining a level of security."

Another council member, a woman with sharp eyes and a stern expression, leaned forward. "We also need to consider increasing our patrol units. If we can't rely on scent alone, we need more eyes and ears on the ground."

Harry agreed. "We'll double the patrols, especially in high-risk areas. We should also consider implementing a community watch program to involve more of our residents in keeping the town safe."

"That sounds like a solid plan," Niall said, his tone more hopeful. "But we need to ensure the community is informed and supportive. Panic will only make things worse."

"I'll handle the communication," Harry assured. "We'll hold a pack meeting to explain the new measures and emphasize the importance of cooperation and vigilance."

The council members nodded in agreement, and Harry felt a sense of determination settle over him. They had a plan, and now it was time to put it into action.

"Niall, arrange the meeting for this evening. Axel, ensure that everything is prepared for it.”

Niall nodded, already reaching for his phone to start coordinating the meeting. Axel gave a quick salute and headed out of the room to take care of the preparations.

"You seem on edge," Agatha, one of the oldest council members and a respected elder, remarked as she approached Harry. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before sitting down beside him.

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ward off an impending headache. "I just can't believe we don't have a single lead. It's very frustrating."

"It's inevitable to feel helpless in situations like these, Harry," added Cyprus from across the table, his keen eyes observing the conversation.

Agatha's eyes softened with understanding as she looked at Harry. "Frustration is a natural response, especially when the stakes are so high. But remember, patience and perseverance are key. The answers will come, often from the places we least expect."

Cyprus nodded in agreement, leaning forward slightly. "In times like these, it's important to rely on the strength of the pack. Trust in the wisdom of those around you and the instincts that have guided us for generations. Every problem has a solution, even if it's not immediately visible."

Agatha smiled warmly.“And don't forget to take care of yourself. Leadership is a heavy burden, but you mustn't let it consume you. Your well-being is crucial to the pack's strength."

Cyprus added, "Remember that sometimes the best course of action is to step back and look at the situation from a different perspective. Fresh eyes can often see what tired ones cannot."

Harry nodded, taking their advice to heart.

"I'm actually glad you're both here," he said, looking between Agatha and Cyprus. "I've been wanting to talk to you about the binding ceremony."

Agatha and Cyprus exchanged knowing looks before turning their attention back to Harry.

"Of course," Agatha said, her voice gentle. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

Harry took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "With everything that's been happening, I want to ensure that the ceremony goes smoothly. Y/N is understandably nervous, and I want to make sure we're fully prepared."

Cyprus leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "The binding ceremony is a significant event, both for Y/N and the pack. It's natural to feel anxious, but it's also a time of celebration and unity."

Agatha nodded in agreement. "Preparation is key. We'll need to ensure that Y/N understands every step of the process and feels supported throughout. The ceremony isn't just about the ritual; it's about the connection and trust between the Luna and the pack."

Harry felt a wave of gratitude for their understanding and support. "I want to do everything I can to make this a positive experience for her. What can we do to help her feel more at ease?"

Agatha smiled warmly. "We can arrange a small gathering before the ceremony where Y/N can meet with the elders and key members of the pack in a more relaxed setting. This will help her feel more connected and supported."

Harry nodded, feeling more confident. "Thank you. When can the ceremony take place?"

"The pack needs strengthening right now," Agatha replied. "It would be wise to hold the ceremony as soon as possible. Having a Luna will only make us stronger."

Harry considered her words, understanding the urgency. "Alright. Let's arrange for it to happen within the next few days. I'll talk to Y/N and make sure she's prepared."

Agatha smiled approvingly. "Alright. Sound like a plan”.

By the time Harry returned to the pack house, the day had stretched into nightfall, far longer than he had anticipated. The bustling pack house was filled with members bustling about, busy preparing for the upcoming meeting and eagerly awaiting his return.

"There you are," Harry said, spotting Y/N standing by the staircase with Niall and Axel. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, his tone earnest. "I tried my best to make it for lunch, but we had issues with the perimeter and patrol”.

Y/N offered him a tight smile. She had spent the entire day waiting for him, confined to the bedroom with nothing to occupy her thoughts or time. Despite her frustration, she knew that people were watching, and she was determined not to create a scene in front of the pack. Niall had eventually come to fetch her, escorting her downstairs.

Harry sensed her anger, so he simply kissed her forehead before ascending the stairs and positioning himself in front of everyone. From his vantage point, he could see the entire room, and as soon as he caught their attention, they quieted, lowering their heads in respect to their Alpha.

"Good evening," Harry began, his voice carrying through the room. "I hope you're all doing well. I realize this meeting was impromptu and feels rushed, but the information I have to share is extremely important."

"As many of you are aware, last week there was a homicide within our pack. Our trackers have detected an unfamiliar scent that has proven untraceable. In response, the council has decided to implement a stricter curfew without impacting business hours. A detailed list containing business names and their operating hours for the coming weeks has been posted outside. Additionally, you'll find the assigned patrol groups and their designated leaders tasked with safeguarding your clients, businesses, and yourselves”

Whispers and murmurs filled the room, and Harry sensed their rising panic. They were understandably frightened, and he knew their concerns were valid.

"I understand it's a frightening time," Harry reassured them, his voice steady. "We're doing everything we can to track down the person responsible. I won't rest until the rogue is found and held accountable for their actions. But I need your help too. I ask each of you to stay vigilant. Be my eyes and ears when I'm not around. Look out for your neighbors, classmates, and friends."

And that's when they heard a loud, piercing scream that sent shivers down their spines.

The scream echoed through the room like a shockwave, freezing everyone in place. Faces turned pale, eyes widened with fear, and a heavy silence descended, broken only by the pounding of hearts in chests. Each member of the pack felt a chill run down their spine, their minds racing with dread and uncertainty. In that moment, the air seemed thick with tension, as if the very walls held their breath in anticipation of what might come next.

[letters-to-rosie]

You said last month that it's not Ekko if he's not involved in activism, anarchism, just actively doing shit to make a change. I absolutely agree. But you also said you "come out of a particular background and that means [you] have certain thoughts and approaches to social change that leave out things that others do and are involved in". Would you please elaborate further on that? Not just for writing Ekko, but for the sake of knowing and maybe applying to real life. You made me curious.

So I sat on this for a while not because I didn't want to answer it but because I wanted to answer it thoughtfully, and I've typed out some things that didn't feel right, but I'm going to try again now.

I tried to find the exact context for where I said that and I failed lol so I am working off memory, but again I will try.

So in terms of background, I'm a Black American. When I was young, I pretty much assumed that my family history would be depressing and I didn't want to look into it. And some of that is there: family trees that get lost once you hit enslavement, dysfunction you can pretty much trace right back to that period, having to explain to people that your family is on the light side not because of consensual relationships but because you're from one of those states that exported slaves, you get the deal. A byproduct of this is that by the time I was an adult and wanted to dig into it and found that there was actually a lot to learn, many of the elders I wanted to learn from had passed on.

That, mixed in with me trying to understand my... financially turbulent?? life led me to engage with black radical thinkers as an adult. And that led into left-wing politics in general. So that's like half of it.

The other half is I've always been the type of person who likes a hands-on problem. My approach to social change has always just been "find a problem and throw myself at it." And that translated into a social service background. Even now, to pay for my classes, I work in social services at my university, still throwing myself at a problem that's sort of followed me around for a decade or so now. I'm not in love with the conditions of trying to fight a problem within the walls of an institution that helps perpetuate them, but for me, the immediacy of people's needs supersedes any need I feel for ideological consistency.

On top of that, I study race. And media. So imagine my excitement when I see Ekko!

I don't know that I've ever encountered a character who checked so many boxes. He sees problems and throws himself at them. He practices radical compassion with people struggling with substance use. AND their victims. And even though he's fighting Silco, he knows that the problems in the city go straight to the top (I oughta write a fic someday where he does make it across the bridge and gets to yell at the council because he so deserves that).

He grieves. I've said before that grief is the emotion that has most defined my adult life. I feel like I'm always grieving. And Ekko models how you do that and keep moving. Rather than giving into the hopelessness of the setting, he creates a place where people can heal and be their best selves. AND HE HAS NATURAL HAIR!!! My natural hair journey is another story but it's honestly tied up in all of this lol.

He's like a treasure trove of things that matter to me, honestly. I'm not even sure how much I realized it at first. But as time passed, I'd keep going back to this character and thinking. His revolutionary spirit is truly to be admired. And I think that evolution in how I've thought about him comes through pretty clearly in my writing, as I come to fully embrace a bottom-up style of conceptualizing revolutionary thought and practice. I know I'll grow and change as I get older, learn more, and do more, but at this particular moment, I think Ekko has a lot of value for me.

So what am I not interested in? Off the top of my head...

versions of the character that leave out that political dimension. I'm not inserting politics into the show. The division between what is political and isn't is a false one. If the politics aren't registering, that's because they're close to the politics of the status quo

which is not to say I think everybody has to write him with politics fully foregrounded, but I wish more people would, you know?

and speaking of the politics, not really interested in ones that aren't radical. Not trying to pass a certain purity test, but we can keep in mind that Misfit Toys shows Scar beating up a dummy Enforcer, in gear. Which they probably got by fighting them. Fun!

another thing I think is key and I would like to see engaged with more is that Ekko doesn't view people using shimmer as enemies. I honestly wonder whether the Firelights know as much as they do about Silco's stuff because they have members who formally worked in the syndicate.

and I bring that up because another thing that the show as a whole and Ekko's interactions with Jinx invite us to think about is not viewing anyone as too far gone. I think in the rush to clearly delineate good and evil, we make too many lines and ignore the material conditions that motivate and contextualize people's actions.

and on that note, I don't like to make Ekko a paragon. I think casting him as a pure soul who is working tirelessly for his people ignores his indignation at the situation around him and how he is actively choosing, every day to do the things he does. I like to keep agency foregrounded.

To close, I wanna share some quotes, because y'all know I love reading revolutionaries.

“It is necessary that the weakness of the powerless is transformed into a force capable of announcing justice. For this to happen, a total denouncement of fatalism is necessary. We are transformative beings and not beings for accommodation.” —Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed

“We have chosen a different path to achieve better results. We have chosen to establish new techniques. We have chosen to seek forms of organization that are better adapted to our civilization, abruptly and once and for all rejecting all kinds of outside diktats, so that we can create the conditions for a dignity in keeping with our ambitions. We refuse simple survival. We want to ease the pressures, to free our countryside from medieval stagnation or regression. We want to democratize our society, to open up our minds to a universe of collective responsibility, so that we may be bold enough to invent the future. We want to change the administration and reconstruct it with a different kind of civil servant. We want to get our army involved with the people in productive work and remind it constantly that, without patriotic training, a soldier is only a criminal with power. That is our political programme.” —Thomas Sankara, Speech before the General Assembly of the United Nations

“Let me just say: Peace to you, if you're willing to fight for it.” —Fred Hampton

[b0ylik3r]

rant about dib and him being white-passing in the show (while still being mexican) under the cut

#breakingmysilence i actually like that dib is pasty and mexican at the same time (in the series). i like that if you look at him you will literally never guess that he has any bit of culture in him. i like that he's whiter than snow at first glance. and i like that he's still mexican nonetheless. because people like that exist, i look white but that's because im mixed, my dad was puerto rican with the features and everything. he tried to get me more into our culture but my mom's side of the family wouldn't let him. thats off topic but you get it. ive gotten into arguments with people over my skin because i told them i was puerto rican and they thought i was rcta or some bullshit. they thought i was literally lying. that's what i thought when i heard that dib was mexican. until i thought about it more and i was like "oh. thats how people feel about me. im enforcing stereotypes that people have to look their race to be their race" and i accepted it immediately. because we don't, we don't have to look our race to have the privilege of identifying with it, we don't have to grow up in a household that's stereotypically assigned to our race to say that we are that race, we can't control that. it's not about that. its about our genetics and that is it. if you're half black, you can say you're black. if you're chinese you can say you're chinese. even if you dont have those features you still are. it doesn't matter what you look like. i feel like we don't get that enough in media, which is why i like that dib looks white so much.

tldr: we don't choose our features or our skin tones, just because somebody LOOKS white doesn't mean they are and i like that we get that with dib.

[scheherazades-vigil]

CW: disabilities, (mild daily type) ableism, mental illness, chronic illness, transmasc identity, (mild daily annoying) transphobia, COVID, discourse, abuse

Trust, I've seen some shit. It's honestly been noticeably *harder* for me to find both belief and sympathy when addressing my (invisible) physical limitations and disabilities. Frankly, I'm just glad I've got enough (worsening) leg trouble to justify my cane, because fuck if that don't justify my existence in the eyes of the vocal majority.

I'll never forget the time I, after the queue for disabled store hrs during early COVID, waited in line and heard countless times that you needed to be "elderly or pregnant," to be allowed admission.

Legally/per store instruction, disability was a necessary requirement of this trifecta, but no employee bothered to assure it. I hope no disabled people fucked off b/c of the stupidity of these (presumably) young, cishet white dudes, parrots with a smirk essentially telling them to do as such by implying without statement that their lack of presentation presents as a lacking of worthy disability. The old Karens of the waiting crowd would jeer at passersby. "Elderly and pregnant only!' they'd screech. Then, if a younger person got in line, best believe they were notified repeatedly by the throng. Wish I could steal a pair of balls that I ought've been born with from the start, so I could scream right back at them without mortal terror and shaking with the right of it.

Good thing, again, for my cane. I'd be disabled regardless, but with it, I (to my amused-rage), I'd be left well enough alone. Same with my disability placard. Look able bodied with it, tho, give up on ever feeling peace again. Least as I hear it. Even if you do have it, eeeh. On all the counts. Perks just suck.

The part I cared about was after I got in, though, already cleared by staff obviously. There were some odd goings-on. But some old woman (yeah, it was always the old women tbh, larger numbers but seemingly unlimited supply of judgment so all the fiercer), that, to my surprise, approached me to discuss the state of my cart.

How full it was. How quickly. I realized I was getting into a "What big eyes you have," discussion sooner than I would've cared to (at least afterwards, then, I'd have had just cause to get her in trouble). Instead, she got her metaphors all mixed up, and I moved on from her, the old wolf who would be a woodcutter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My sister was there helping me, naturally. Contrary to popular belief, disabled people do have families, may not be able to drive themselves, may be able to load a cart quickly if necessary, but may also be unable to unload it, etc etc. Whatever. I just smiled and agreed and smiled and nodded in all the ways one does with the old; eyes locked, nodding, growing to imposing stature, backing away.

I made my escape, but only barely. Lolol sorry I'm not aiming to play this up, I'm just easily amused. There's a million little (or huge) things that happen to invisibly disabled people all the time. Bizarre, cruel things. The elderly, especially, who most talk of our (millennials and younger) entitlement, tend to be the most entitled of all I've met, be they boomers or older. They've decided they've got a horse in this race (??? but why), and that gives them leave to patrol it. Anyway, you don't need to be invisibly disabled. They might call you a faker or just not care.

ASD lvl 2. Practiced all my life to pass, not to act out of line as a "proper woman," perhaps because I am neither. Yet another situation the aggressively abled impose upon. You're either not disabled enough or too disabled and there are functioning labels and yeah either you couldn't possibly get it you're just normal or you don't get it because you're not normal enough. It's rancid.

It all comes together in funny ways at the Starbucks inside, where people do not know how to treat me, because obviously "as human" is a reach for them. Also yeah, trans shit? I'll tell them a nickname. It's 3 letters and they ask how it's spelled. "Eli, okay..." excruciating pause, averted eye contact "... and how is that spelled?"

Anyone who reads Eli as my name and sees me? Yeah. No, *they* don't ask. They speak assuredly, "Ellie!" Little menaces lol. Big bag stuff is wise, but this still adds up.

My mental health is, to put it bluntly, garbage. Leg-aside (I have fallen at least a dozen times on tile, with my kneecaps, ftr, esp the bad [right] one, average 1-4 bone bruises biweekly, just started getting it sorted, but ya my leg was bad before anyway), my chronic illness is doing me a disservice. The ebb and flow between it and mental illness is disturbing and rude. I have EPS/TD from an antipsychotic prescribed to avoid "autistic irritability" from a time when I was being actively abused, idk, for like 11 years I guess, and I was so very damaged from that (cPTSD among others)... but I was never irritable, and no one warned me I could be permanently disabled in a new and horrifying way (+emotional lability for weeks before evening and maintaining, never leaving, + important control disorders in the form of "retail therapy" that built debt I can never repay hahaha and it's back again now that we're trying other meds! I had a brilliant month and a half of misery but zero spending, there!).

Meh I'm making myself sad but, there's a ton of other things I wanted to include and address in agreement with this post and for the sake of pro-intersectionality of everything and anything, more or less. I'm "too white" for a mestizo Latinx, I'm too feminine to pass as male-aligned, so if people see my legs I'm lucky when they ¯\_(ツ)_/¯and tell their kids "some people like that," I'm too young to be in so much pain, I also must be exaggerating my pain, especially dentally (so confused, I had total mouth surgery? I survived that agony for which I wasn't even forewarned?! My local ran off mid-root canal and the dentist finished anyway, despite my shouted, clenched protests, because you can't just. Get up or you'll lose an eye or smth idk? But no, THIS pain surely must be invented or it's hyperbole?!? Peeeeeooople).

I'm too inexperienced for a lot of other stuff, disputes, passing, whatever. I feel like a child. I may have known significantly more in the past, functioned more convincingly, succeeded in places I can no longer be physically or mentally present.

I also have OCD, DPD, (am I bipolar now? do I just have mania forever, and if so what does that mean diagnostically? I need to ask but want to wait to see how my meds are shaking out so I can mass address), MDD, GAD... Certain I'm missing things, but I've got to leave now anyway! Hugs! Be well y'all.

I hope this is somehow helpful and not triggering for anyone, because it hurt a good deal to write it. A confession, of sorts, if short.

There's a mistake I see a lot of people in the mental health community make and in all honesty, it's one I've made myself. But I think we should really work on it. And that's saying "if this were a physical illness, wouldn't you care?"

I've learned that no actually, people wouldn't care. Katelyn Weinstein (theADHDprincess on Twitter) is a neurodiversity acceptance activist who really put this in perspective for me. She said that it's actually more an issue of longevity than physical vs mental health.

If you're having a bad day people will generally be understanding. But when you're experiencing chronic depression and you have many bad days people lose sympathy.

In the same respect people may be understanding when you've broken a bone that will heal properly or when you have a cold that will go away soon in ways they simply won't understand when you have chronic pain or need to use a wheelchair. They may send chicken soup for a temporary situation, but when you need consistent accomodations it's an entirely different story.

I understand that from our perspective it looks like people care more about physical health than mental health, but it's good to remember that our own perspective is also limiting. Facing ableism doesn't mean you can't be ableist. And I know so many people are not ill-intentioned when they say this. I know I wasn't. But we can't discount the lived experiences of physically disabled people. If we want true equality we need to be united and we need to listen to those with physical disabilities and illnesses. And those with physical disabilities and illnesses (some of which are also invisible) have said that they are not given proper accomodations either.

So let's be united and fight for equality and accomodations for everyone, no matter what their illness or disability may be.

[the-firebird69]

The Lady Bogue. Bogue. The Lady Bogue. She touched our son down the stairs. Was threatened into it. And people could not tell by who.. And we understand it was frightening. And people thought that she was Melissa and she's not. And there's a reason why he. was get the canaM. and it's a spider. And people should figure it out who are ours. It's Canada and America and a spider. but their reasoning is for him to get an accident and for them to hold him in a hospital under threat. And that's what they want to do. And they've been trying to do it the whole. time. And it's really these pseudo empire. And they're going to all pay for it. But the thing is that nothing happens. And he says, so something happens. to Camilla. But really, there's no direct tie to him. at all. And there is a weak one. It's really kind of lame. So we're not really sure how that would happen.

Hera

So there are arguing and talking and. he thought she had an answer and so forth, but not yet. And the reason he would get someone else's bike doesn't make sense. except for inheritance. And it's used. and he doesn't really ride. So people try to figure that out It's the same with the slingshot. We do know what happens and how it happens and he has a lot of aunts and uncles. And he says Connie chasse, looks a little odd. A lot of people think that. she might be a shoe in for Camilla but she would have to pass on. And that's not what happens. Camilla is hit and she doesn't look like herself. She looks like Gareth's sister.. And he's related. but distantly. and they never discussed it. So it's going like that so far.

Thor Freya

I just thought of something We're kinda talking about it, but we're not. And if I had a Web Trike, I wouldn't want him to have mine. without his father in law and the analogy is probably irresistible. And I'm most likely be back if something were to happen. But I do know. that this lady Camilla she had contact with our friend here. And it was as an aunt. as herself practically. And that's what they want. And she was an aunt who is from New York. And she came by the house. and he has no recollection. It was in Westboro and says I don't remember it. I The. he says I recall the African American family and doesn't look like here. That's another thing too. The Gentry's were just friends. This lady came by and was an aunt. It was back in the 70s. Now it was about 1983. and he was astonished. and said wow, she's an auntie. Where is she from And they're telling you and you are going. Boy, that's interesting. And you were kind of up and bouncing around and we know why that you're mixed race and you have proof. and they knew about it. And that's what they were up to And they got in trouble. So you can try and remember it. when she doesn't want you to

they dontwantthis out wedo.

need itnow

and yes they plan to hit her and hnd it over. adntons will see the relationship and john r thinks it good. and will help him get in. tons say it he is a nincompoop. nd he is and might go the other way all who support her will look like seem like us.and her base will grow

Thor Freya

stil dont want to get shot and i know he is a moron and might anyways. so be it i win then

camilla

Olympus

[tannieschim]

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

"you would die for her, for him."

"You're dying."

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

"At this rate, you won't have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn't have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I'm afraid there's not much to do." He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future's passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair's arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, "You're an idiot, y/n."

"Fucking stupid. How could you not- I mean- how could you not tell me? I'm your brother! We're family. Blood. We're supposed to- we're supposed to tell each other these things and you just fucking- you kept it to yourself all these months! Ten months! And now I'm sitting here being the one to tell you that you're dying? That you're leaving me? I would've done something. I would've helped you, I- I would've killed whoever this person you're in love with is. y/n, please- I just-"

You don't know why, but you felt exhausted.

The ringing in your ears is deafening. Truthfully, you hadn't heard a single thing the minute you received news that you'll be, well, passing away. Not to mention, within 30 days time.

It's not as if you didn't already know about your condition, of course you did. Coughing soft pink camellia flowers every time you see the man that's brought you here is not exactly something that just simply passes a blind eye. You sense it, you feel it, and it hurts.

It really, really hurts.

You also felt awful for your brother. You hadn't meant for it to go this far. You didn't mean to not tell him. You didn't want your assigned doctor to suddenly call in sick and have your brother temporarily take his place. You didn't mean for him to find out this way - such a twisted, horrible fucking way, but here you are.

"I'm sorry, Joon. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to go this far. I just-"

"Were you ever even going to tell me?" He cuts you off, voice low and steady, almost afraid of your coming response.

Your eyes locate his across the cramped room, and one could clearly tell that it's striving its hardest to fight against desperate tears.

"I- yes, Joon. I was. Of course I was. I was gonna do it after this check in actually, but I guess God wanted you to find out sooner than I intended, though He could've just waited a little while longer and it would've been fine." You joke whisperingly, the heavy weight of your heart lightening just a small bit when you notice the corners of his lips twitch and his eyes faintly soften.

Regrettably, that was a lie. You didn’t plan on telling him, not today at least. Maybe not even ever.

The softening air lasts for only a second as his following question makes you hold back the urge to cough up another camellia flower slowly blooming its way to your throat.

"Who is it?"

Genuine, concerned, curious. These were all that he was.

But noticing the way your body went entirely rigid at his words and the way your hand clutched your clothed chest in attempt to shut down what you know will happen next, Namjoon's brotherly instincts causes him to naturally make his way towards you softly, taking small and careful strides towards your fragile state.

And once he's finally reached you, he gets on his knees gently in order for him to be of nearing same height level as you're sitting down, his hands rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting manner.

He does this all before pulling the trigger.

"Who are you in love with, y/n?"

two years back

"Jimin!"

You call out your brother's best friend loudly, who is currently in the midst of doing a one-man stage play in front of the mirror, "Joon's saying you guys need to get going now. Says he has a patient in two hours and wants to go over all sorts of documents before treating her."

Turning around, you scan the living room and dining room for the keys of your friend's car as your brother also asked you to hand them to him since the two always end up on forgetting it until they've already reached the car parked across your apartment's block.

You hear Jimin shuffle behind you, "Really? He wants to go over documents at- 9 AM in the morning?"

Smiling at his attempts of complaint, you nod your head softly in order to play along and answer his rhetorical question, "He really needs to learn how to drive doesn't he? Since he's dragging you along everywhere he goes."

Jimin laughs at your statement, which being an opinion, your brother would argue, 'driving isn't a necessary aspect of life.' But who really thinks like that? Oh right, non-drivers.

“I guess he’s getting too caught up in learning medicine that he forgot to learn how to officially become an adult.” Reaching above the kitchen top, you finally found sight of Jimin's car keys.

How did it even get up there? You think to yourself. It's really high up, so Namjoon must've been the one to leave it as to where it is.

You groan slightly, "Joon, can you get over here! I found Chim's keys but it's too far up high so I can't reach it. Hell I don't even think he can reach this-"

You are cut off when you feel a hand sneak around your waist, making you flinch and suddenly spin cautiously.

Eyes widened. Lips parted. Breath hitched. You let out an inaudible gasp as you come to the realization that Jimin is now in front of you, head tilted with an amused smile on his face, "Excuse you? I can very much reach this." He says, all the while reaching up behind you, inchly leaning forward. At this point, your body is being pressed up against the kitchen counter and his oh-so-very toned front.

This small action is enough to instigate a flaming abyss inside of you as you very much attempt to calm your alarmed heart.

You can feel the cuts and lines of his abs against your chest as he is now standing on his tippy toes, desperately trying to reach the keys on the kitchen top. Anyone that could see his posture would call him adorable, but your body is currently being sandwiched and by all that is high and mighty your mind can't even really process a single thing. Wait, what were you thinking just now?

"See? Got it." Jimin falls back in place as he jiggles his car keys in front of your stone-cold face, smile wide as he giggles softly, "Piece of cake, y/n."

He then proceeds to move on with his life like he didn't just do what the fuck he just did.

Clearing your throat, you blink about a million times in order to gather your thoughts. Your heartbeat is racing faster than the speed of light and your lips have become as dry as a desert. If you had gone standing on your tippy toes just as he did, you would've been a baby hair away from lips touching. The thought is enough to make you grow weak.

Yet as if something inside of you is suddenly turned on, no pun intended, you remind yourself that these thoughts are wrong. You can't be having these apprehensions, they aren't right. Because not only is he your brother's best friend, he also has a-

"y/n?" Jimin's soft voice calls out your name.

Breaking out of your trance, you turn to see him sitting down on the dining table, head tilted downwards with a small smile on his face. The sun escapes your pastel curtains as it slips past the window sill, reasoning with the current ray of golden yellow that has found its home on Jimin’s plump cheek, shining on the left side of his luminous face.

It's absolutely senseless how he can look as beautiful as he does simply by existing, and it makes perfect sense that your finding yourself to liking him more and more.

Just look at him.

You are broken out of your enchanted daze once more as dreaded words leave his smiling lips, "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Only then were you brought back to your inadequate reality.

“W- what?” You attempt to speak, but you notice the way your voice has suddenly become noticeably hoarse.

Jimin looks up at you with a smile, the kind that has his eyes almost disappearing.

“Sung. I’m gonna ask her to marry me tonight.”

silence.

silence.

and more silence.

Like a coward, that was all what you could muster to respond with.

And only then did you notice the velvet box on his hands, upon which he is tenderly caressing. Only then did you recognize the questionable romantic script of his one-man stage just moments earlier. Only then did you realize that the reason behind his growing smile are because of her, not you. Not because of what had just taken place.

Only then did you remember that no, you can't be having these apprehensions - they aren't right.

Because not only is he your brother's best friend,

he also has a, now upcoming, fiancé.

present time

"I already loved him then, Joon."

By this time, your brother has stood up and begun pacing back and forth the modest office, murmurs of curses towards his friend escaping past his lips, "-that small son of a bitch."

Smiling softly, you look down in reminiscence of the moments you have spent falling for Jimin. "I guess I've always been infatuated with him ever since our first meeting, but my God Joonie," you pause, inhaling a short breath in attempt to stop tears threatening to spill. "-ever since that day, when he told me that he was going to propose to her, I finally realized that like was the wrong term to use. I realized that I loved him and I just- I lost sight of everything." You cry, small sobs coming from you as you blinkingly look up to try to contain the waters forming in your eyes.

It was true. That day, when he told you about his plans to ask her to marry him, you've never felt more indignant.

Of course you faked it at first, congratulated him and consoled him into truthfully believing that she will undoubtedly say yes. But the minute he and Namjoon left your apartment, you collapsed on your carpeted floors, sobbing loudly and hitting your chest repetitively all the while cursing yourself in your head for ever even considering the tiniest of possibilities that you and Jimin could ever happen.

You also went out that night, got drunk, found a guy, slept with him, and never looked back.

Sure, this may seem like a regular night out for many, but not being the type to kiss and sleep, sex meant a lot to you.

Nothing wrong with one night stands, that just wasn't your particular chosen lifestyle. But you were wasted. You were intoxicated. You didn't know what you were doing. Had you been sober, you wouldn't have done what you did, especially with the person you did it with. So when you woke up in the middle of the night naked in bed next to a familiar face and realized what you've done, you rushingly stood up, got dressed, and left, ignoring the calls of the man you had just been with.

You went straight home and washed yourself for hours, feeling dirty and sloppy and disgusting. You can easily recollect sitting down in the showers, head tucked underneath and in between your legs, sobbing and crying loudly as the steam surrounding you from the warm water kept on worsening.

You hated what you did, and you most definitely despised the reason for what you did, - to simply get over someone else. You felt guilty. You felt ashamed. What would Jimin think? You thought to yourself. And though that truly didn't really matter, the ache in your heart kept on making you believe otherwise.

You didn't notice how your tears have fallen and stained your newly-bought jeans until Namjoon's hands holding a napkin comes within your perception.

Mumbling a small 'sorry Joonie,' you accept his offer and wipe the tears still continuously streaming down your now reddened, warm, and puffy face. As you do this, you furthermore catch sight of your brother's shadow rubbing his face in frustration, matching the groans that you also hear release from him in the background. And without meaning so, you deflate in insecurity.

Hearing the sound of air being released from a pulling force, you look up to see that Namjoon has sat back down, his elbows resting on the desk while his chin rest on his hands. "Does he know about this, y/n?"

You sigh, "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" You hear him ask once more.

Closing your eyes and sniffing lightly, you inhale a steady breath as you answer him for the second time, "I don't know, Joon."

Namjoon looks at you, eyes full of worry and concern. You don't know?

You're his sister, and he loves you. He would do anything for you. If he could shower you with all the love that you lack from Jimin, he would. And he would do it in a heartbeat. But you're dying. You're leaving him. And he doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. So how could you not know? How could you sit here, in front of him, after keeping this shit for ten months to yourself, tell him that you just don't know?

He feels frustrated. Frustrated over the clearing fact that if you don't know the answer to that simple yes or no question, then how more could you know the answer to when he asks you to make the choice?

The choice - to love or to die.

A very careful, unprecedented surgery that has been performed by professionals only a few times, yet each one has been successful. This seems easy, yeah. A surgery to save your life? Of course you'll do it! But there's a reason as to why this has been done only by a certain small count.

To perform the surgery and live, the price is not the expense, but rather the loneliness that shall come as you spend the rest of your life void of emotions. The surgery doesn't get rid of love on its own, it gets rid of everything that comes with it - happiness, sadness, trust, pain, pretty much everything that one can possibly feel. The only emotion left is indifference, yet even indifference lacks its self-sustainability.

Who would want to live like that?

Who would want to live a life where you just simply exist and nothing more?

He knows that the day will come eventually - when he offers you the choice, the chance to save your life, and he knows it will come soon. But right now, he has chosen to prioritize being a brother over a doctor. Right now, the only thing in his mind is comforting you.

"Okay." Your brother nods, making your eyes widen slightly in shock.

Okay? No scolding? No 'how could you not know?!' older brother reprimands? But then you remember, oh yeah. You're dying. And who could possibly scold their dying little sister?

"I'm sorry Joonie-" You try to apologize once more before he cuts you off again.

"No, don't apologize, y/n. It's not like you could've possibly wanted for any of this to happen, yeah?" He offers you a smile, but you could easily see past its fabricated purpose, "But instead let me ask you this. And I need you, in our deceased parent's name, to be completely honest with me."

You only nod, completely submissive and understanding of his seriousness the moment that he mentioned your passed parents.

"What you just told me, when you first fell in love with him, that was two years ago." He starts, making you nod again in agreement.

"But you were diagnosed only ten months ago."

Your heart drops, and you don't nod again.

"The Hanahaki Disease is not something that gradually begins and comes to existence over the course of time. It is an illness that is triggered. It could be by a sudden forthcoming realization or proclamation of love, or by an event that triggers the heart to completely shut down in overwhelmth. Either way, basing on the timing of what you've said, you should've been diagnosed with the Hanahaki two years ago. But you weren't."

Namjoon eyes you questioningly, but not too much to the extent that you feel uncomfortable, only just enough to remind you of the importance of this conversation, "You were only diagnosed ten months ago, y/n. Why?"

You sit still, not wanting to move, as if your stone figure would somehow make him think that you're not real or that you're a simple figment of his messed up imagination.

"y/n, what happened ten months ago?"

He finishes his question and you swallow harshly only to realize that you're parched, your throat completely dry. You then tilt your head to steal a gaze at your brother, making you catch the way his eyes suddenly widened as if he just realized something of high importance. As if he had just realized the answer to his own question. And that didn't work with you.

Clearing your throat, you are about to answer him in order to cut off his thoughts until the door swings open and you feel your throat compact, - the coughs of a camellia flower slipping its way to visibility -because there he is,

the man of the hour.

"y/n." He noticeably breathes a sigh of relief before making his way to you, engulfing you in a giant embrace. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you had the Hanahaki? How could you not let me know? How long have you had it? Who is it? I swear I'm going to murder whoever this piece of shit is that he dared ever making yo-"

"Jimin this is a professional space between a doctor and his patient." The two of you pull away almost exactly the same time as soon as Namjoon speaks up, Jimin's eyebrows furrowing, "Get out."

"What?" Jimin barely gather the voice to ask him as he is completely caught off guard of his friend's erupting vulgar attitude.

"I said-" Namjoon speaks before getting caught off again.

"No trust me, I heard what you said. But what?" Jimin repeats himself, "So you're telling me you're not prioritizing being y/n's brother right now? You're still caught up in this Doctor Kim bullshit? Like you're a real one?"

"Jimin-" You attempt to budge in, sensing that a certain trouble may suddenly come knocking.

"No, y/n. Listen hyung-"

"No, YOU listen. You small piece of shit." Your brother raises his voice, "-don't come barging in here like you own the place or like you have any authority over her. She is MY sister and this is a family matter. So it's best you stay out of it and keep in your lane."

At this point, Namjoon is in front of Jimin, a short distance separating the two of them, "And don't you ever dare speak to me in that tone again. I know you're my friend, but remember to treat me with respect. Not only am I your superior, but I'm also your hyung." He finishes with a serious voice, tone low, and message deep. His earnest eyes piercing through his friend's pained ones.

Jimin, mouth slightly agape being at loss for words and clearly confused at his close friend's unreasonable anger, storms out of the room.

But not before he drags you along with him.

Namjoon is quick to act as he tries to reach for you, but you turn back and look at him pleadingly, signaling him that it's okay and to not worry. And him being the understanding brother that he is, pulls back and holds himself steady.

You can handle him. You’re a Kim. You’re strong.

Strong enough to survive through this.

You’ll be okay.

And as he watches the two of you leave, the door closing shut right in front of him, only then does reality hit Namjoon as his legs tremble abruptly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

Falling down the floor, he reaches onto the desk for assistance as he slides his back down the wooden wall, hands painfully fisted and finding its way to cover his mouth in order to muffle the choked-in sobs perilously escaping him. He proceeds to blink away the tears and bite harshly on his lips, trying to diminish the flourishing grievance in his heart.

His sister is dying, and he doesn't know what to do.

“Doctor Kim? The next patient is ready to see you.” A knocking nurse distracts him and calls out from behind the door, “-shall I send them in?”

Namjoon sniffs heavily and sighs deeply, rushingly grabbing his glasses and adjusting his emotionally wrecked state, “One moment!”

He lets out a soft, shaky breath and reminds himself once more that you’re a Kim.

You’re strong.

You can beat this.

It'll be alright.

You'll be okay.

"IM NOT OKAY JIMIN-SHI!" You voicely whine out to your friend who is currently dragging you along the halls of the hospital and out the technologically advanced glass doors, "What is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm aggressively from his grasp as you bend down, hands resting on your knees while you hastily try to catch your breath. The camellia flower stuck just along the chords of your throat making it very difficult.

Jimin stares at you worryingly, having forgotten of your illness, "O- oh no. y/n, I'm sorry I forgot I- are you okay? Should we go back?" He stutters in concern before you hold up one finger, signaling him to shut the hell up. "-sorry."

Looking at you like this, tired and exhausted from having to put up with all his bullshit, Jimin feels a sudden urge to reach out and embrace you tightly, almost forgetting of his previous encounter with your brother.

And so that's exactly what he does.

You are caught off guard the moment you feel a hand grab your shoulder by means of pulling you closer all the while another rests just at your crook of spine, and although this first makes you stumble in a not-so-very prettily way, your destination is found to be in your friend's embrace, his fragile yet protective arms wrapped around you securely.

Not letting this moment simply pass by, you let yourself melt in his arms as you find the comfort meant to be found in his comforting hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slightly stand on your tippy toes. Somehow, your simple action makes him pull you even closer, one hand creeping behind your neck all the while his other is completely wrapped around your waist although this time is tighter than before.

As the two of you stay like this in the middle of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, crowds of unfamiliar voices passing by you and ambulances ringing endlessly against your ear, you let yourself submerge within the passion of your heart.

Amidst the chaos and cries of your nearingly counted days, you find consolation in the arms of the same man that has put you in front of death's door, and quite frankly, you wouldn't really want it any other way. You'll take what is given by the heavens above when it comes to Jimin, because well- you love him.

Unfortunately, that quick and simple thought is enough to make you lose control of your reminded disease.

"y-y/n what's- are you okay?" Jimin pulls away from you abruptly as you break into coughing fits, pastel pink camellia blossoms escaping your trembling lips.

The sight has caught the attention of many civilians, but both you and Jimin remain to be indifferent about them as you or more or less are occupied with your illness all the while Jimin specifically aims his attention on you alone.

"Alright that's it, screw your brother alright?" Jimin exclaims a bit louder than what you're comfortable with as this obviously did not benefit with the proceedingly growing public focus on the two of you, "-we're going back, y/n, it's my fault for bringing you outside so suddenly-"

"No chim, please-" You roughly attempt to speak out, your throat painfully extracting the feeling of abrasiveness, "Please just- let's just go."

"y/n.."

“Please chim,” you cut him off for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, coughing, “-please. I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Hesistant yet concerned, Jimin nods slowly as he assists your side, his hands finding its home around your waist and lower back while you both take short and careful strides. You destination is still unknown, but you didn’t mind. A journey a day with someone you love has never turned out for the worse.

At least that's what you think.

"Really?" You roll your eyes as you notice the familiar lane that Jimin's car just entered, "I asked you to get me out of the hospital area, I didn't ask for a sleepover, Jimin." You jokingly accuse him, but you can't help the smile that makes its way on your puffed-up face as you notice him smoothly take a side-glance at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well I thought that with all that bad hospital air, you might've wanted to breathe in a familiar scent," Jimin responds as the car comes to a stop.

You turn slightly to open the door and step out before you here a meek, "Jankkanman!" and perceive a 5'9 in height blondie come running around the bonnet in order to open the car door for you as a gentleman would. It is such a sweet and casual pantomime, yet an ill-patient diagnosed with an illness of the heart can never bring you any wins. Consequently, his actions only causes your throat to feel strained and compacted for the endless time.

God, how much did you love this man that such a simple gesture makes you want to cough out countless of fully bloomed flowers?

You thank the heavens above for your past endless experiences that allowed you to now be better in terms of hiding your pain as you attempt to smile genuinely, mumbling a small "thank you" in the process before making your way inside his home.

"So," Jimin starts as the two of you plop down his couch, his eyes seeking for yours as he tilts his head ever so lightly, "what should we do today... now that you're out of that hell hole?"

"Chim!" You scold him lightly, "my brother and your best friend just happens to be working in that hell hole, just in case you forgot, and- hey! You work there too, you ass." You accusingly point at him all the while hitting his arm playfully.

Jimin is was a nurse in that hospital. Your brother is a doctor.

He laughs and smiles widely, "Nope. I don't work there anymore, remember? But I did for a while, which is why I can most definitely testify that that place is indeed, a hell hole. And by the way, I'm kind of offended that you pretty much forgot my lost profession just then, y/n, like what the fuck?" He jokes endingly.

Your eyes soften slightly as he mentions his lack of job, yet you still stubbornly choose to ignore his last remark. "Well I sure hope that's not the case since I'll be most likely spending my last days there."

Oops.

The silence that ensues goes inevitably noticed by the two of you the moment those words escaped past your lips, but you paid no mind. That was the reason that you asked him to take you away anyways. You weren't hoping for some cliche romantic bullshit where the two of you simply elope and forget your real worries in your life, no. Instead you were here with the main purpose of facing it.

Besides, even if you did want to leave with him, you couldn't. Remember?

Jimin is the first to break the excessive blockade, "Don't say that y/n."

You sigh, "But it's true, chim."

"I don't give a shit if it's true or not."

"Chim.." You are slightly startled with his sudden outburst, caught off guard in the way his voice slightly raised as his attention and body language are now completely directed at you, "Wha- why are you getting mad?"

Jimin scoffs, almost irritated at your oblivious question, "Why? Because you're talking of dying like it's not a big deal, y/n!" His voice getting louder and louder by every word he spits out, "God, you know you can be so fucking insensitive sometimes. What, did you already forget the shit I suffered when I lost someone? Did you already forget all the fucking shit I suffered when death took her from me?"

At the mention of her, you pause. Speechless. Guilty. Hurt.

Of course you remember. How could you not? You remember the darkest of days as like it was just yesterday.

You remember getting that call in the middle of the night from the contact name of your brother as you slightly answered it in an irritated voice, "Joon I swear to God if you're asking me to drive you to work in the middle of the fucking night I will personally drag your ass right now to get a driver's liscenc-"

"y/n?"

You remember immediately stopping as you recognize the voice that most certainly did not belong to your brother, "Chim?"

"y- y/n."

You remember the outbreak of his sobs as you call out to him, his sniffles and cries becoming more and more prominent as you stumble on your feet, struggling with keeping your phone against and in between your ear and your shoulder as you hurryingly take off to grab a jacket and your keys, "Chim what's wrong, where the hell are you? W- where's Joon?"

You remember the way your heart dropped as your worst fear came to mind, the thought of losing your brother itself being enough to make you wobble in your feet, your heart clenching. He had your brother's phone, and he was crying.

"N-no, he- he's fine, y/n. It's not him, hyung's... hyung's fine."

You remember the way he struggled to find the right words; the way he sniffled and stuttered through forming such a simple sentence all the while you on the other side of the line breathe out a sigh of relief at the information of your brother's wellness, yet feeling slightly guilty that your emotions are in contrast with your friend's.

"It's Sung."

You remember Jimin's worst.

"It's Sung, y/n. Sh- she got in an accident on the way here to visit me during my off hours and- fuck! Some fucking demon pulled a hit and run on her. She was walking, y/n. She walked an hour here and got ran over by someone and.. they're doing an operation on her- hyung's assisting and he just- it's bad. It was really bad and she was bleeding all fucking over and- hyung, he- he left his phone and I didn't know what to do so I just called you- I didn't, they pushed me out of the room, y/n. I need you here. Please, please. Please come here because I'm losing my fucking mind and I need you here."

You remember driving to the hospital as careful as you can with the fear of the possibility of an accident occurring still in the midst of the back of your mind.

You remember reaching the doors of the emergency room and being greeted with a pair of reddened and exhausted eyes that looked up the moment you walked in, "Jin."

He stands up to greet you politely but you stop him, obviously seeing that his reaction upon seeing you is no more than a forced delight, "Let's not do this under these circumstances, okay? You're allowed to feel unwelcoming. It's okay, Jin."

He does no more than mumble a small 'thank you' before going back to his previous spot with you trudging along beside him.

You remember feeling the sorrow of the man beside you as you watch him lean his head back against the wall, fragile streaks of tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. You couldn't imagine his pain, the pain of such a situation where your sister's life is at stake. You wanted to comfort him, to softly rub his back and whisper sweet encouragements against his ear, little white lies that his sister is guaranteed to make it without a doubt. But you couldn't. You weren't here for him, regardless of your history. Regardless of the way you left him the morning after your supposed mistake.

"Uhm, have you seen Jimin?"

You remember the way his void eyes find yours and the way his lips lightly upturn as he gives you a forced smirk, trying to keep up with his image of being Kim Seokjin, Kim Sungkyung's handsome and cocky older brother, "And here I was thinking fate brought you here to me, y/n." He trails off, "-considering how you fucked me then dipped."

You gasp slightly and playfully hit his arm at the blunt mention of your regretted one night stand as you give him a small yet genuine smile, partly glad yet at the same time worried that he can make such remarks during a situation like this.

It was strange really, how everything in your life seemed to be connected. How on the day you felt your heart tore apart the time Jimin first mentioned his planned proposal, you went out and accidentally slept with the soon-to-be-bride's older brother.

Letting out a small sigh, Jin nods his head in the direction of a different waiting room, "He left when I came. Guess he was embarrassed of how fucked up he was but hey- I'm not doing any fucking better am I?" He tells you, subtly pointing at the very visible streaks of tears still falling down his now puffy face.

You get on your feet and turn to leave but not before giving one last glance at the man next to you, a hand softly reaching to rub his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jin. I wish I could stay, but-"

"It's okay, y/n. Go." Jin encourages you with a small yet noticeably forced smile, "He needs you."

And so you do, bidding him a soft goodbye before taking off, your eyes beginning to water out of the guilt of leaving a friend in that state.

You then remember being suffocated. Suffocated from the embrace that greeted you the moment Jimin entered your peripheral vision. You remember landing on your behind with a harsh thud from the struggle of Jimin's weight as he continues to seek your embrace for means of comfort, the two of you falling down the floor. You remember getting drenched from Jimin's tears as you cradle him as would a wailing child, rocking him back and forth all the while softly rubbing his back, whispering every bit of amenity that could make him feel better.

You remember feeling your heart physically ache as you fail to notice the tears that have fallen down your own eyes, blurring your sight.

To see Jimin in this state, so broken and hurt and scared, it tore you apart. You wanted him happy. You wanted him smiling. You wanted him. You loved him. And God forbid that you're admitting this in your own mind while his fiance is battling for her own life, but fuck.

You wanted nothing more than to lay down your own life for Sung so that she could continue in existence for him.

If you could, you would take here place.

You would die for her, for him.

You remember pushing back your thoughts as you put focusing on Jimin your first priority. You remember keeping him in a neverending tight embrace as he neverendingly sobs against your chest, his lips leaving prayers you could barely yet still tried to understand;

please don't let her die

don't take her away from me

i love her too much

i still have to marry her.

You then remember hearing a wail of anguish, putting a pause to both Jimin's silent pleas and your eavesdropping as the both of your heads turn to pinpoint from whom the noise came from.

You remember the way Jimin stilled.

"No."

You remember his whisper of such a small, two-lettered word, yet somehow it caused your heart to crumble.

"No no no no-"

You remember having to tackle Jimin slightly as he causes a mess of himself, punching the seats and harshly tugging on his hair all the while screaming wails of pain and suffering, "Jimin please-"

"No- get the fuck off of me! Sung?!"

You remember how Jimin lost sight of reality as he pushes you off of him, your body making in contact with the cold tiled ground.

"SUNG? SUNG! LET ME INSIDE-"

You remember seeing nurses and other staff pull the man you love back as he causes a scene, starting to become physical and violent with the people surrounding him, "PLEASE! Please- I just- I NEED TO SEE HER! SHES MY FIANCE-"

You remember seeing a man dressed in blue make his way near Jimin, a needle in his hand.

"H-hey, no!" You remember trying to catch up to the nurse, attempting to prevent them from giving whatever the shot was to Jimin, "Stop! Please-"

"y/n. D-don't."

You remember feeling a hand on your shoulder which makes you turn around instantly, only to find the culprit behind the anguished scream just moments prior Jimin's outburst.

"Jin." You start, "-they're going to sedate him. That- that's not okay."

"They have to, y/n." Another voice calls out from behind Jin, "I know how it seems and I don't like it either, b-but he's becoming violent. They have to sedate him."

"Joon." You whisper softly.

What a sick and twisted game that life is playing on you, that your brother, Jimin's best friend, Jimin's best man at the wedding being planned, is the one to give news of the bride's passing.

"Sung, is she really.." You trail off, not having the heart to finish your sentence.

It seems neither does he, as he responds with nothing but a simple avoidance of eye contact.

"HYUNG!"

You remember Jimin's faint and tired yet still firm voice as he calls out your brother, "Hyung, you saved her didn't you? You- you were part of the surgery. You saved her didn't you? Didn't you!?" Jimin is weak as he trails off his words as the effect of the syringe takes its course, but that doesn't stop him from reaching out to the three of you, "H-hyung. Tell me you saved her. P-please tell me you saved h-her."

Namjoon doesn't stop the tear that rolls down his hardened face as he only shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Jimin. We did our best. We really, really did. I'm so sorry-"

You remember the way Namjoon's voice trails off your hearing as your throat suddenly feels contracted. You remember the itching pain just within your chest as you find the struggle to breath, your hand clutching it harshly. You remember stumbling back just a little bit as you feel lightheaded, thinking that these were only from the overwhelming happenings in that moment.

But then you cough.

And you cough

and you cough

and you cough.

But no one notices you.

Not even yourself.

Your attention remains still at Jimin, who has now dropped completely to the floor, tears still continuously spilling out of his drowsy eyes. Short breaths are released from his trembling lips as he mumbles words that none of you can understand. He then begins to seemingly reach out for something, someone.

"P-please," He whispers.

And as you bend down almost immediately to attend to his calls, you cough.

And you cough

and you cough.

And still no one notices.

No one except him.

You cough as your eyes find his, barely open yet staring right at you from the lows of the floor.

You remember having to excuse yourself and run to the nearest restroom you can find, legs trembling and stumbling on your way there as you push against the winds of the almost empty halls, still coughing with every step you take. And just as you reach the doors of the restroom, you turn back slightly, just enough to catch Jimin's last sight while his body is being carried away to where you guess is a vacant patient's room, all this before his eyes ultimately close.

Eyes you found lastly staring at you.

You remember finally shutting the door and locking it, thanking God silently that you're in a family restroom hence there is no one else inside. You cough desperately, your throat beginning to feel exclusively sore and your lungs beginning to tighten from all the air being released as you cough and cough and cough again.

You reach out to the sink, gripping tightly onto the white metals as you cough and cough and cough again.

You then brushingly turn to the toilet, your eyes watering and lips numbing as you cough and you cough and you cough once more.

You practically clean the whole restroom, as disgusting as that sounds, from all the moving you made as you coughed anywhere and everywhere. You felt awful for the next person to come inside, now that your bacterium were practically in its every corner, side, and space. You cough again, this time harder, the worst one out of the previous.

You remember sensing a certain feeling rise up, something soft yet itchy, something light yet heavy.

And so you cough, and you cough, and you cough, and you cough,

and you bleed.

And amongst the red is a pink.

A single, individual pink petal from what you would soon find out is a camellia flower - the flower that is soon to be the latter symbolization of death chasing you, growing closer, inching nearer, just about to knock on your door.

So of course you remember Jimin's distraught. Of course you remember Sung's - his fiance's death.

Because her death was too, the ultimate beginning of yours.

taglist for part 2?

[vannybarber]

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

[whitepassingpocs]

i hope you're ready for a novel. lol

i have a weird issue. i grew up identifying as Polish (i live in the US). both of my parents are white (passing?), if you saw them on the street you would assume they are white, and both of them see themselves as white. they grew up in Poland, and they passed that culture onto me. when i was in school, everyone knew me as that Polish kid, because it was my culture. so knowing that, i always considered myself white, bc Polish people are white, right?

but then i got to college and right away people started assuming i was Asian and saying so (usually they assumed i was mixed-race but sometimes central Asian. it was all variations of like "what are you", usually from people trying to be more politic than that, since many of them were Asian and mixed race themselves). i kept getting comments on it, which really made me confused, bc ???? all my life i was told i'm Polish. i had no idea how to react, and i thought it was just the specific combination of traits i got from my parents that maybe made me look Asian to people.

finally about a month ago after yet another person said something about how i'm Asian, i asked my mother if we are Tatars—and apparently the answer is yes?? my father's parents supposedly have close Tatar ancestry (but she's not sure exactly how), and my mother's father also has Tatar ancestry. and i don't speak to my father, so i don't even know like more specifics

so anyway my question is—am i a person of color now?? neither i nor any living family members that i'm in contact with have any connection to Tatar culture, i haven't experienced that much racism (i think?), and i don't even know if Tatars are poc. Lipka Tatars have lived in Poland for like 600 years, and though they are endogamous, they (we) are also pretty assimilated.

i've thought i was white for over 20 years of my life. it's just that people keep assuming i'm Asian…and idek how to learn more about my new(?) culture, since i've already devoured almost everything there is online about them (us?) and there's no "Tatar community" here or anywhere i'm really likely to ever go anytime soon…

this ask is A Lot, i know, and i'm sorry lol

hi! it's okay, no need to apologise! you sound like you're processing a lot. i am not familiar enough with Polish race constructs, history or Tatar history or culture to know how to answer this with authority. the best advice i can give is that it's okay to acknowledge your connection to a culture even if you have no way of growing that connection at the moment. it's okay for you to just say that you have Tatar roots/family without worrying about how that racially categorizes you. because, as you've experienced, race is perceived differently by different people anyways. You don't have to worry about the binary of poc/not poc (its never really been a binary but that's a whole other conversation), it's okay for you to say you're descended from Tatars when people ask because it's the truth and you're not obligated to elaborate. it's also okay for you to just say you're a mixed Polish/Tatar person because that's an accurate label too. labels aren't contracts, they're just indicators. choose the one that is the most helpful in indicating your identity to others. sometimes that's all we can do. x

[xneens]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Threesomers

(Jack x Rin x Roland)

Word Count- 4600

Warnings- language, oral sex (m/f receiving), masturbation (m/f), penetrative sex (anal and vaginal), slight alcohol use, use of special abilities (empathic, telepathic, symphokinesis)

A/N- Jack and Rin had everything they could want, especially in each other. A surprise visit from Roland shows them that's not exactly the case. Original Robert GIFs by @vousnavezrienvu new one by @neuroticpuppy love of my life

Rin was giggling as she linked arms with Jack and Roland as they headed back to the cottage. There was a feeling in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

One that emanated from both men equally. That caused her to continuously lock her lips with Jack’s. To dip her tongue far in his mouth while he emitted noises of shock. Roland was left to tap out a nervous rhythm on his pint glass.

Then, as she remembered he was there, Rin would face forward with a secret smile. Jack, distracted by pleasurable discomfort, wouldn't notice as she had reached into Roland’s lap. Her small hand surreptitiously squeezed his cock until it hardened. Her boyfriend was sitting right there, oblivious.

Now she drowned out their banter as they fumbled along the cobblestones. Jack's hand pinched Rin’s ass and she squealed. The atmosphere felt topsy-turvy just to spite Roland’s sullen demeanor. He remained cryptic over his break up with Keevy, citing creative differences.

“That's because she makes music, mate. You just fuck about like you’re wanking a radio antenna. I want to Gaelic folk songs mashed in with glam rock. Not some bloke dressed like a funeral director making a racket that sounds like murdering a baby.”

Jack took the piss most of the night. Including now. The tequila emboldened him. Made him relentless in his pursuit. Roland was, to put it mildly, vexed. It wafted from him. Rin felt the steady growing timpani drums that lined his blood as it boiled.

“Says the homeless schizophrenic who pretends to speak with the dead and terrorizes families at their loved ones' gravesites.”

The air grew thick just then. Jack clenched his jaw and squeezed a handful of Rin. She grimaced. His only response was to yank her away from the other man and to give Roland a wide berth. He started to speed up while yanking his girlfriend along.

Rin was overwhelmed with embarrassment coming from both men. That flirtation in the pub. Her sexual urges were inclinations that she siphoned right from Jack into Roland and vice versa. Under the weird jealousy (from the medium more than the musician), was desire. A confused one, but there all the same, from her partner and best mate.

Jack spun around to face Roland.

“You made decisions for a woman you barely knew and THEN insisted that you loved her after MAYBE about a week together in THREE years. Like what the fuck, mate? You put a woman in a situation where she says no and is ungrateful or says yes and she's stuck with you.”

“JACK!!” Rin cried in shock.

“Aint ye the one who took advantage of a woman in a clear manic state post suicide attempt!?”

Jack stepped to Roland. His fists balled his sides. Rin didn't think either of them could fight. Even knew how. She stifled a laugh at the image of gangly limbs and thin bodies rolling on the ground. Then she flushed as that fight turned into something more in her mind.

The Irishman started yelling. A feat Rin never knew him capable of. His anger was often quiet and simmering. But whatever was going on was being filtered through their common ground. The empathic woman they both loved.

Roland persisted, “THEN YE SHAGGED HER AND CONVENIENTLY PRETENDED YE COULDN'T REMEMBER HER!! WHO COULD FORGET WREN?! I'VE FECKIN TRIED!!”

“ROLAND!”

“You're an insufferable cunt,” Jack seethed.

To Rin’s surprise Roland unfurled. His shoulders sagged. He pushed the heels of his palms into his temples.

“The music inside my head that ye play is so sad. It has this weird,” he waved his arms around, “fake happy harmony. That makes ye a selfish bastard. You've got a home and a family and love. That's it mate love. How can ye take advantage of it? That's all I want is someone to lo-”

Roland’s words were cut off by Jack all but smashing his mouth into the musician’s. He had the Irishman by the lapel of his leather coat while the kiss deepened.

Roland’s hands searched for anything to do so they settled on Jack's hips. One found its way to the back of the medium’s head. Then their mouths parted leaving the men to stare at each other on the poorly lit path.

Rin let out a strangled sound of both desire and envy. She longed to be between the two men. All hands and mouths and tongues and bodies sharing each other. So a thought came to mind.

“Boys,” she took each man by the hand. She plugged herself back into their lascivious feelings. “Let's play a game.”

---

“What do ye mean you've never danced with anyone?” Roland looked at Jack, incredulous.

Jack sat on the couch with Rin at his feet. She was, for a lack of anything else to do, painting the fingernails on his right hand. She had all but given up on the threesome she had proposed when they came home.

There had been more kissing, but Jack let his nerves take over. He wasn't quite as eager with Roland as he had Rin back when he was new to her. Both the musician and the empath knew it was because Jack was just awakening to it. The feelings he might have for another man, other men in general. This was literally his first experience.

Roland could tell as easily as Rin that Jack enjoyed it. Not only physically by the stiffening in his jeans, but the music around him became lighter. Roland had taken that to match the music coming from the radio they had found inspecting the living room. Their kisses followed suit: soft and sweet.

Now as they sat opposite ends of the couch, Rin literally had him in her hands. She sent tendrils of calm from herself into Jack. Reassurance that it was alright. The knowledge that Roland had done this before with other men. That her partner could be sexually attracted to more than just her gender.

“Nothing ever comes up when I'm called for dancing with Birdie,” Jack's moniker for Rin. “We aren't exactly crawling with wedding invites, Rolo.”

Roland stood up and held his hand out to Jack, “Right on then; I'm an expert.”

Jack’s shoulders had relaxed but his fuzzy eyebrows were now lost in his bangs. “Whot? Dance with you? Don't you reckon we’ll look like two scarecrows?” There was a smile in his question though, and he took the proffered hand.

Roland pulled Jack off the couch and into his arms. “Of course it won't exactly be like dancing with Wren, but we’ll make due. Yeah?”

The music changed to Regina Spektor while the men figured out positioning. There was nervous giggling, a sound that was like a shot to Rin’s veins. Better than any street drug or anti-psychotic she had been prescribed by shrinks who believed she was broken. That Jack was broken. Roland could easily hide his gift, to funnel it into a career or teaching.

“It's musical empathy and kinesis,” he answered before Jack had a moment to ask. They had settled with their hands on each other's waists. The music bending into something with a steadier beat.

“How does it work?” Jack allowed Roland to sway them both back and forth. Their hips found a rhythm with ease.

“I hear music in everyt’ing. Every living t’ing has a melody. I can use music like Wren can manipulate emotions. I also give it to other people.” Roland’s voice trailed off as he pressed his forehead to Jack's, “Can we kiss again?”

Rin was overwhelmed as she watched the two of them. Her heart raced whole she saw their tongues dart back and forth. She felt a pulse take up between her legs. It was like she couldn't control herself as she began to create a friction against the cotton of her panties while the two men switched to more of a grind than a sway.

Roland grabbed Jack's ass so that he was forced to feel the erection he had created beneath the Irishman’s pants. A moan escaped Jack before he did likewise to the other man. Their kisses grew more aggressive with tongues that delved as far as they could.

Rin fingered herself now. She matched the zeal of their mouths. She let out a loud gasp mixed with a squeak that startled the men. Men who forgot she was there who now watched as she masturbated with her head back. Lost in herself now more than them.

“Care t’ join us, love?” Roland asked. His voice was thick.

Rin opened her eyes and flushed while she got to her feet. Joining them, the woman opted for standing behind Jack. She remained silent as she reached around to lift his shirt up. Jack raised his arms so she could remove it completely.

Then she ran her hands down Jack's raised arms and over his sides to his lower half. She undid the button on his jeans and unzipped him. Rin tugged them and his boxers to the ground so that he was naked.

Jack's breathing grew heavier and more ragged. He had no way of hiding his erection now as it twitched and came alive in Rin’s small hand.

Roland’s gaze lowered so he could watch as she let her grip lazily pass up and down the shaft of Jack's cock. He bit his lip and shifted on his feet as Jack reached around to hold on to his girlfriend. His head hung back like hers had been while she touched herself.

She stopped and took his hand in her own. Together, they repeated what Rin had done to Jack but with Roland’s clothes this time. Except she let her boyfriend do most of the undressing. Let him take off Roland’s shirt. Rin undid Roland’s pants, but Jack removed them and his underwear.

Only Rin remained clothed as she pushed herself in the space that had opened. She took each of them by the cock and started her strokes once more. Her fingers tightened around their erections equally. Rin twisted down the length to their balls where she squeezed and moved back to the heads. Her thumbs both pass circles around their foreskin and the slits underneath.

Jack and Roland shuddered and groaned. Above Rin, who continued to knead them nimbly, they began to kiss again. Moans of pleasure passed between them as their hips bucked under her hands. The friction she created became unbearable in the most delicious way.

The young woman felt her cunt grow slick over the sounds the men were making. The power she felt with a cock in each hand. The way she poured a bit of herself into Jack and Roland. Then each one into the other. Like mixing drinks or candy from the pick n mix. They were Whiskey and rum and tequila. Perhaps wine gums and Maltesers and fairy floss.

It had been so long since Rin had felt Jack overtaken by insatiable hunger. It wasn't that he didn't crave her sexually, he had found a way to keep it at bay. This was new. A part of himself that had been deprived through no one's fault.

Rin was growing bored of no honest inclusion. She let go of the men and turned her back to Roland. Her warm lips found Jack's chest and stomach. Soft pink tongue carved a path in the indentation from his navel up to his sternum. Rin let it flick at one of his nipples before she bit it. Her grip on Jack's shoulders to push him to his knees.

Jack gazed up at Rin while she stepped out of her panties. His large hand around her thigh got lost under her dress. His fingers explored deep inside her walls. Pumped in and out a few times while making a hook. Jack's middle finger probed Rin’s clit in fluid circles. It went unspoken how pleased he was with her wetness.

Roland meanwhile was slowly unzipping Rin’s dress. The sensation of his light touch on her bare skin up the course he had just followed down. He kissed her shoulders and her neck while she reached out for Jack's head to hold.

The Englishman pumped away at her as the Irishman massaged her breasts. His calloused fingers took in handfuls; tugged at Rin’s nipples until they hardened like his cock in her back. She leaned into Roland now that his thumbs began to trace wildly over her nipples. His motions matched the way Jack attacked that bud of nerves just inside the hood of her cunt.

Almost as quickly as they began, they stopped. Roland looked down at his friend and her partner on his knees. “Jack. Why not have a lie down? You take care of Little Bird,” Roland turned her face towards him so he could kiss her briefly, “let her sit on your face?”

The musician clipped Rin lightly on the chin. She smirked. Both she and Roland glared at Jack in such a way either indicating a desire to kill or fuck. Roland reached to palm Rin’s cunt with his hand, eyes never left Jack's who was biting his lip at the two of them.

“Roland will suck your cock,” Rin promised. A girlish grin came to her face as she bit the tip of her manicured nail. “It'll be fun.”

Jack obeyed without hesitation. He laid down on the shag carpeting. His cock at full attention; he was eager. He was filled more with the anticipation you get at the top of a roller coaster. He trusted Rin, loved her unconditionally. He couldn't believe it, but Jack trusted Roland too.

“You alright, love?” the empath asked.

Jack nodded enthusiastically, “Buzzin’.” They both laughed.

Rin was kneeling beside her boyfriend. She let her lips mingle with his. Their tongues danced ever so slightly before she crawled over Jack's face. Her fingers gripped his head again and pulled it upwards.

Instinct took over and Jack's tongue ran along Rin’s slit. He lapped at her a dozen times: long strokes and then small ones over her clit. She started to rock her hips into his face. Her grasp tighter as Jack's tongue worked deftly. He created a vacuum on the outside then dove his tongue further inside than ever before. A back and forth began that switched from sucking on Rin’s cunt and her clit.

Roland took to straddling Jack's shins so he could lower himself forward. His mouth found the medium’s stomach. He let his tongue trail along Jack's skin that quivered each time Roland exhaled. The man under him breathed in and held it when the musician finally licked the head of his cock.

Jack’s reflexes took over. He held on to Rin’s hips helping. His own body lifted off the floor. Roland allowed for the entirety of the cock to hit the back of his throat. He sucked hard as he raised his head back to release the shaft. Switching to take long licks along the length. Then he made swift little swirls around the tip.

There was a dance the two men found themselves in. Rin had a fleeting thought that she wasn't doing enough. That she could take turns between her touch and Roland’s mouth. Which was absurd to think as she felt herself begin to orgasm. She did well to not tighten her thighs around Jack as a reaction to the pleasing convulsion that started to course through her.

Just as Rin was about to cum completely, Jack's mouth stopped. He pushed her back from his face so that she was situated on his chest. He sat up and interrupted Roland as well. He knew, knew if the Irishman kept going he would explode too soon in his mouth.

“What's wrong?” Roland was confused. “Was it too much? You alright, love?” He used the same affection with both his friend and her partner.

“Our little bird is feeling a bit left out.”

“Crikey, left out? Any further north in her twat ye could've seen Scotland.” Roland winked.

“Steady on, Music Man. I mean left out from being with you.”

Jack sat up so that Rin was again positioned between the two men. Roland took to showering her shoulders with kisses. His facial hair tickled her skin until goose pimples raised up along her arms.

The medium followed suit with Rin’s breasts. His lips treated each nipple like her clit. Teeth teased them erect as his tongue went ‘round them at a dizzying speed.

“Fuck!” Rin cried out. Her one arm embraced Jack as she hooked her other backwards around Roland. Her small fingers caught in his curls.

“Would you be alright shaggin me a little. Just to the edge like I did you? Then you want to give Roland a go?”

Jack searched Rin’s eyes. She nodded with enthusiasm. “But are you sure? About Rol and me? You’re not gonna go all weird after?”

She held Jack's cock and taunted him with her slit. Her pelvis rolled painfully slow until he was fully inside of her. Rin started to grind back on Jack.

“You can fuck me too, Jax,” Roland had Rin by the waist to guide her motions.

He pulled her back so that he knew Jack was buried into her up to the hilt. Then forward and back. Now the rhythm, the dance, was the two of them. But Jack joined in by lacing his fingers with Roland's so the two of them could manipulate Rin’s body with total control.

The empath cried out as the men built a friction between her cunt and Jack's cock. His body shook, but his eyes never left hers or Roland’s.

Roland, who kissed her while Jack watched. Their fingers still linked with one hand as Roland’s other found its way around Jack's neck so that he could be pulled into a kiss as well. The three alternating tongues between them. Jack's body bucked wildly; Rin knew he was at that proverbial edge.

“Fuck me,” she exhaled in Roland’s mouth. Her neck craned at weird angles like her body to accommodate each man’s mouth.

“Go on then,” Jack instructed, “fuck her.”

Rin was bewitched by the smell of sex and the taste of herself on Jack's lips and the tribal bass of whatever Roland projected into the air around them. She was drunk on the heightened emotions as she arranged herself on all fours in front of her friend.

Roland knelt behind Rin with his cock in hand. The his free hand firm on the curve of her body. He teased her cunt with the tip as if it was his finger. Felt her grow even more wet under his touch as he lost himself inch by inch. He twisted his fingers cautiously in Rin’s hair before plowing into her. All the while Jack underneath sat back on his elbows to observe.

Rin let Roland bang her. He always loved control. Not in the dominant way. In the Type A personality way. She let him do that now, control her. Ram against her ass with his pelvis. Release all that frustration he had giving himself up for Keevey. The compromise he made to do what she wanted which triggered his self preservation. He was fucking that pain away.

She was an instrument for him to play. Aggressively so as he slammed into her with the same fury he played that stupid theremin. His grip an inch thick in the fat that cushioned her. His cock slid in and out of her with ease the way his fingers flew up and down the antenna. Fluid. Without hesitation.

Jack was in awe. His own cock remained stiff while he studied the way Roland rutted like a wild animal. Rin’s breasts as they swayed back and forth. Her teeth biting her bottom lip so hard it might bleed as she panted and cried out. The way she struggled to remain upright.

Jack was fascinated by it all. He absently reached down and yanked on his erection while watching the concentration on that Irish face. The twisted rapture on that feminine Welsh one. Their bodies made an audible slapping sound over the music. The Englishman’s wanking joined that chorus.

It wasn't very long. The theremin player was so boisterous Rin knew it would happen soon. That she would make herself cum knowing what Jack and Roland longed to do. Her cunt ached at the thought. Between Roland’s sudden explosion inside of her as he growled with satisfaction and the picture she created of the two of them in her mind.

Rin removed herself from the situation and climbed, drunk on overstimulation, to her feet.

“Why don't you lot snog a little? I’m just gonna pop off and get us a wonderful potion my beautiful broken man will need. I've got some tucked away for special occasions!” Rin giggled and stumbled towards the stairs.

“What?” Jack laughed.

“She means lube,” Roland informed him.

He cupped Jack's face and kissed him. Their tongues lingered together long enough for one to nip at the other’s. An eagerness started inside of the medium. One to learn and please as he remembered that first time with Rin.

Jack laid Roland back on the carpet and crawled on top of him. Their mouths never break as their tongues continue their strange tango. Uncertain what to do as he now let his tongue glide down over the Irishman’s neck, Jack reached for this cock.

Roland had been flaccid, still recovering from getting off with Rin. Now he shuddered and came to life in Jack's hand as his collarbone became showered with kisses. He exhaled a heavy moan when that hand rubbed quickly over his shaft. There was nothing for Jack to learn with Roland. A cock was a cock.

Rin came back in time to see the men on the floor. Jack settled between Roland’s legs that were bent at the knee. His hand expertly jerks off the musician whose hands were splayed across Jack's back.

That hot mouth and soft lips Rin knew well were moving down towards Roland’s stomach. She sat down beside them just as Jack swiped his tongue now over the head of the cock in his hands.

He was testing the waters. Rin was sending him images, feelings from each time she gave him head. From her view so he could mimic her. Jack lapped at Roland’s erection like he had Rin’s cunt, which swelled yet again as she bent to kiss her friend. Her tongue and Jack's worked in unison.

Roland started to spasm, his hips had a mind of their own as they reacted to Jack taking more of his cock in.

“Jack,” Rin said, full of love and lust, “love he's gonna cum. Are you ready for that?”

Jack looked up at her and shook his head. He raised up on his arms so he could kiss Rin. Then he looked down at Roland, “You’ll both have to show me how to do this.”

Rin opened the little tube she held and requested Jack give her his fingers. She added some of the jelly to them and gestured at Roland. “You’ll have to get him ready like you do me. Think of it like fingering a twat only..”

“Tighter,” Roland finished for her. He bent his legs in a sort of frog position. Rin was impressed by his flexibility.

“That's debatable,” she teased. “Go on love, one finger and then the other.” Rin laid down and propped up on her elbow.

Jack reached to find the hole. Roland gasped but happily not out of shock as Jack slid his finger inside. In and out a few times, hypnotized by how quickly he treated it like Rin’s body. It wasn't much different he thought to himself as he added the second finger.

He pumped his fingers at a constant tempo. Further each time with Roland encouraging him. Jack went quicker, deeper as he locked eyes with Rin. There was a fire in her he hadn't seen that spurned him on.

“A bit more,” Roland groaned.

Jack obeyed and watched as the Irishman shivered and contorted like Rin when he managed her GSpot. Was this it? Men had one too? No wonder they liked getting fucked here. Why would women?

“Now lube your cock, and do the same.” Rin found a way to kiss Jack. Then Roland. Her own fingers followed along with her boyfriend’s as she played with her clit.

Jack sat up on his knees and took a generous handful from the bottle. Rin smirked beside Roland who could only bite his lip and stare at Jack's cock as he stroked it harder. He pushed down on Roland’s knee so that he was spread further apart. The young woman flicked at herself faster, her fingers getting lost inside of herself.

“Steady on, sweetheart.” Roland could only moan and anchor himself on the medium’s thin hips.

Jack started to deliberately thrust his shaft inch by inch inside of Roland. Rin was right, it was tighter. But that didn't stop Roland from encouraging Jack to go further. He was alright. More than alright he cried out.

“To the hilt, Jack,” he whinged.

So he complied. His hands under Roland’s ass to lift it upwards as he dove in. Jack's pelvis met Roland’s body and he rolled his hips so that he was nearly out of the other man. Then slowly inside of him one more.

The medium was gentle. Soft and careful like he had been with Rin, or so he thought. Well, at first. Until Roland took to begging him to fuck harder. Faster. So Jack pumped at him until their bodies made that symphonic sound of bone and skin and cock and ass.

Rin fucked herself harder. Her fingers worked her clit at the same wavelength as Jack fucked Roland. She knew it was happening for all of them. Her back arched off the carpet and her cunt contracted around her fingers.

“FUCK!” she squealed.

That white hot volcanic explosion tore through her and Jack and Roland. The three of them connected in an endless cyclical orgasm. Rin sent out those tendrils, the filaments of experience so that the men she loved knew what it was like to cum as a woman.

The same, as whatever song crescendoed in their heads, for Rin. That salty liquid that spilled from her men, her Irishman and Englishman, felt like it was pouring from her walls too.

“Blimey, Aderyn!” Roland laughed as Jack collapsed on top of him. He scooped both of them up in his arms and held them to his chest. A kiss on each of their foreheads before nuzzling his own into Jack's.

Rin and Jack shared breathless little kisses. They locked fingers, and he lifted her small hand to brush his lips across the back of it. The light reflected something shiny and gold.

“Birdie, where’d ya get that ring?”

Rin held her hand up and flexed her manicured fingers. “Isn't it DIVINE?! I found it on the floor in our things. I think someone left it here, but we can ask Mrs Barrow. It's such a lovely little diamond at the center of this gold flower.”

“It's not too small?” Jack propped up on his elbow.

“No! Look at the two hearts beside the beautiful daisy. Whoever it was loved this ring and his partner very much.”

Roland had the biggest grin on his face, “Go on then Jax. Do it proper. One knee and all.”

“Jack?”

“I had a question to ask."

[poisonivyfemme]

Something I haven't heard any white people mention before is the effect white supremacy has on biracial/biethnic or otherwise mixed people. White supremacy as a system (In America at least) has taken the ethnicities and cultures of tons of people and basically said "it doesn't matter what country your ancestors came from, you're White™️" For example, my father and his family have no idea where our ancestors came from, all we know is that we are white. My mother is Hispanic/Latino/Puerto Rican, and as far as she knows her ancestors have been from Puerto Rico for as long as anyone can remember, and that Puerto Rican lineage stems from Spaniards, Enslaved Africans, and the Native Taino. Puerto Ricans are one of the most beautiful, diverse group of people, ranging from very dark to light skin, black to blonde hair, and tons of unique faces and features. I was the first person from our family that wasn't born on Puerto Rican soil. When you mix two lineages together like that you get someone like me, who, upon first glance looks like a tan/orangey white person. Unfortunately for many mixed people such as myself our culture is ignored/denied by others because we dont "look" like someone who has a culture. We look white, so we don't get to participate in our ancestral cultures or even identify with them. Growing up I knew my mom was Hispanic but I didn't know I was. I grew up thinking I was white (which, I am, in the eyes of society, and racially speaking). And I'm not trying to say these things to make myself look more oppressed, I thankfully have never been discriminated against because of my ethnicity, or ever been read as Hispanic (except by one Puerto Rican). In fact, I've only ever been excluded by other Hispanics because of the way I look and my broken Spanish. I bring it up because even though I am someone of an ethnic minority because I read as white my culture was deemed unimportant to learn, engage in, etc. My white dad stopped me from speaking Spanish as a kid. I don't know anything about my culture. And If I were ever to raise a child I wouldn't have anything to teach them about my culture, and an entire lineage and ancestry would be lost. I've already seen in happen with my partners parent. One of my partners parents is also half Puerto Rican like me, and though she has attempted very hard to hold on to her culture (by keeping her last name when getting married, for example) Her children know about the same amount of their Puerto Rican culture as I do, though even less considering they've never even been to Puerto Rico before. I know that with thousands of years of cultures mixing will cause some things to be lost but white supremacy and the raising of mixed kids as white over their other race/ethnicity causes mixed kids to feel separated from their culture and ultimately have nothing to pass down to the future generations.

[dreamiesdotcom]

careful (slow spin-off) | l.jn, n.jm

Summary: With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

Word Count: 1.6k

"Hyuck, stop staring. Jaemin seems sweet and all, but he looks like he's ready to pick a fight," Mark groans then slouches at his chair.

Was he up making music again? Why is Mark so devoted to helping that guy? Jeno doesn't really understand.

He looks at Donghyuck, then to where he's staring at. He briefly recognizes Renjun and his friends, one of them with entwined fingers as Na Jaemin. That's the person Donghyuck has been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hyuck. Seriously, I don't think you even know his best friend's name."

"That lovely person right there, you see, is Y/N," Donghyuck proudly states. He scoffs, "Please, I don't go around flirting with strangers. "

Jeno returns a similar expression, momentarily bringing down his book. He tilts his head, "Well, have you ever hung out?"

He pauses, breathes one beat late, and then sighs. Mark sits up straight, steals a glance at the other side of the room, and then waits for Donghyuck's answer.

The sunkissed boy just shakes his head, "No."

There's just enough pause there, enough hesitance in his voice that he cannot be trusted. Instead of pointing that out, Jeno laughs, shrugs, and sets his eyes on his book. Whatever the hell it is that happened between pages 108 and 112, he doesn't understand at all.

Jeno tries to recall an old memory: he remembers being teamed up with Huang Renjun for a while because of a photography project. He remembers staying up late with the boy at a convenience store, editing pictures, and drowning in coffee.

They didn't talk much — the only time Renjun talked about something other than the task at hand was when he was pointing at the park across, and that brings him to the question; Why did Donghyuck lie?

"Let's just get out of here," Mark announces, drinking his coffee quickly.

Jeno absentmindedly collects his belongings as Hyuck blushes over whatever it is they heard that he didn't, and then stands up and heads for the door. He lets them walk first, then he watches for a while.

What is it exactly that brought him to this point?

"Careful..." were the words Mark drawled out to Jeno back then when they were much younger. Then, after that, he'd smile, "You look at Hyuck like you're about to fall. Careful, Lee Jeno."

But Jeno didn't need to hear that, not from Mark at least. He was responsible and rational, he thought things through before he dived deep — Mark does the same, but he's all blurs between safe and dangerous and the last thing Jeno needs is Mark telling him to be careful because the older's definition of careful is most people's careless. That was a piece of advice, though. Jeno should've listened.

Jeno didn't need Mark to tell him to watch himself before he falls, because he knows what's proper and what's not. It was out of his control that everything seemed right with Donghyuck.

###

What does blue taste like? Jeno read from that one time Mark's recent subject has left his notebook. He didn't mean to look at what doesn't belong to him, but the question has him curious enough.

The answer? It's something Jeno can't seem to get out of his mind.

What does blue taste like? Repeats the question. The answer comes in rough cursive, sloppy, and messy handwriting, as if the writer couldn't see through the emotions they felt as they scribbled out: For me, it's sometimes bitter, sort of sweet, and it's overwhelmingly strong. It's watching your friends fall in love with each other. It's falling in love with one of your best friends.

Sometimes it tastes like the orange juice you drink as you watch said best friend fall in love with somebody else, sour like the realization that it wasn't you he fell for when all you've done is crash to him.

And truthfully, the kid was weird, but he was adorable. He's tall, handsome, and he danced like he was born for it, so good that Jeno really wouldn't be surprised if he was, but he was shy and awkward and clumsy as well, far from the bubbly and confident people his best friend liked. He didn't see why Mark was so interested in this kid.

As he accidentally reads this page, however, he doesn't care for all of that. He just wonders how sweet smiles carry such heartaches, and maybe, he thinks of how similar they are .

He doesn't know what the hell it was that happened within those months his best friend — the one he's hopelessly in love with — shined brighter than the others, but right now he thinks he has a clue: playing the guitar side by side with Mark on Christmas Eve, watching Donghyuck kiss the love of his life under the mistletoe (which he manually holds above their heads) after singing that person a song he wrote for months. Jeno's pretty sure he doesn't need any context anymore. He just keeps on thinking about the excerpt he accidentally read from Park Jisung's notebook and then laughs along even if he doesn't understand anything going on.

He walks home that day without telling either Mark or Hyuck.

###

Na Jaemin was an occurrence that happened every now and then.

They were friends when they were younger, that's something he wouldn't deny. Somewhere around the room, he knows he still has photos with him laying around. It was a seasonal kind of friendship, and then the occasional kind as they grew up, until it was just... not there. He doesn't know what happened. They're in good terms, he knows that as they've worked on a task together before, but they've never really hung out like then.

Well, not until their best friends got together, at least.

Their circles just kind of merged after that Christmas. There wasn't much change in their routines; they still go on sleepovers, eat lunch together, walk home in groups. Only that this time, there are more people, and there's more laughter, and Jeno isn't looking wistfully at someone all alone.

Jaemin does the same.

It's kind of funny, really. These past few months, it feels like he's catching up to all those lost touches with Jaemin — he's the same weird guy he knew from childhood.

It was awkward at first but then before he knows it, they're all falling into their places like puzzle pieces. Before he knows it, months have passed and they've got closer and they're hanging out at his place, just the two of them, staring at the plastic stars on his ceiling. Unlike before, the unspoken feelings he has for Donghyuck only hurts a little.

With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

"Jisung needs to stop leaving his goddamned notebook around," Jaemin complains, lowering the volume of his speakers so they could talk. Jeno rests his face on his palms, carefully watching the other boy. "He's great at writing but honestly, Jeno, I'm starting to feel guilty. I keep on accidentally reading his stuff and — I need to stop. Oh my God. He's working hard for that showcase and I'm here, peeping at his secret notebook!"

"Well, just ask him? You've been friends for a while now. You even said you basically raised him."

"Well, I did, but I wasn't even supposed to know about it, Jen."

Or maybe you are, Jeno thinks in his head, making some space on the bed for Jaemin who crawls right next to him. He sighs deeply, maybe you keep on stumbling around it because he hopes you'd see. Maybe he hopes you'd realize that he's in love with you.

They stay like that, quiet for a while. After ten minutes, Jaemin seems to fall asleep — he doesn't know when they grew close enough to doze off cuddling, but maybe it's just... always meant to be like this. They'd get their hearts broken and then they'd find solace with each other and they'd grow fond.

He thinks of Jisung for a little, and then he thinks of Mark. He's pretty sure Chenle could be thrown in the mix as well — he thinks of how he and Jaemin used to be part of that unspoken mess, too. Perhaps it's because something weird makes you fall in love with your best friend, like an odd charm. Or maybe it was just them.

These days, Donghyuck doesn't make his heart race as much — he gets excited, sure, seeing him and hanging out, but not for the old reasons. He's happy to see him. He loves him still, too, but it's a different kind of love — the kind he shares for Mark. The kind he's slowly starting to share with their newfound family.

Something changed, too. It felt like a new world after choosing to let his feelings for Donghyuck go, and it seemed like the past weeks, he feels something similar beginning to bloom.

When did it start? From the heartaches they shared stories about? The time they spent together? Did it begin from when they'd started hanging out again? He isn't really sure — all that he's certain about its that beside him, Jaemin looks peaceful and safe, and then Jeno muses to himself: "If you continue being like this, I might fall in love."

He could just hear Mark's voice right now — "Careful, Lee Jeno." — and he could just recall Jisung's hastily written words — 'You look at that person and you feel like you could conquer the world with one hand, but you choose to fall' — and oh, he could.

He could fall.

He's so sure of it — he could fall.

Later, when Jeno keeps his eyes closed at a failed attempt on sleep, Jaemin opens his and presses closer — "Please do."

[cptsdhellscape]

Welcome to my CPTSD Hellscape. Block, don't retort.

DNI:

Minors

People who pretend to have/self diagnose physical and mental disabilities (besides autism, ADHD/ADD, and other minor and obvious things. If you're "self diagnosed" with DID, tourettes, EDS, fibromyalgia, or other "trendy" disorders, you're not welcome here. Munchausen's malingerers aren't welcome.)

Pro-eating disorder blogs, including ones who "just talk, they don't condone it". I'm in recovery and I don't want to see it.

Pedophiles, MAPS, etc. This includes POCD (I don't care if you don't like that, nobody wants to hear about it, at all.)

Transphobes, this includes TERFS, gender critical, enbiphobes, and detrans supporters.

Homophobes, biphobes, panphobes, etc. Bigotry is stupid and those aren't hills worth dying on.

Racists, antisemitics, cultural appropriators, etc

Antivaxxers or other anti-science idiots

Paganphobes

SWERFs. I'm a former fetish model, sugar baby, cam model, and adult actor who has lots of stripper friends. You don't need to be here if you hate us.

Ableists, including fatphobes, vegans, people who claim weed* or meditation cures everything, and people who stigmatize mental illnesses or disability

People who support or glorify the abuse of the following substances: heroin, Suboxone, methadone, opiates, crack, cocaine, methamphetamine, Adderall, Xanax, fentanyl, PCP, datura/Jimsonweed, Percocet, Vicodin, or pretty much anything else that you can overdose on

People opposed to the general use of medical cannabis (*it's not a panacea but it helps my seizures and chronic pain better than anything else I've tried so 🤷‍♂️ plus it's less dangerous than booze, so, if you're legal age and it's prescribed, who cares?)

Main trigger/content warnings and things I may talk a lot about.

All will be thoroughly tagged when they're brought up, and I try to not be graphic because, frankly, it's upsetting. Regardless, here's what I may post about in the future:

-my experiences as a survivor of repeated sexual assault, including childhood s/a, child on child s/a, and grooming

-my experiences with racism as a white passing mixed race person, including racism from my own family

-my experiences with hate crimes due to being LGBTQ+ including abuse from the detrans community and systemic abuse

-my experiences with emotional abuse, neglect, and gaslighting

-my experiences with pregnancy loss and fertility issues

-my experiences as a former addict, and my experience with losing loved ones to drug and alcohol addiction

-my experience with religious abuse, including s/a at the hands of a religious extremist group and religious hate

-my experiences as a former sex worker

-my experiences with disability and growing up physically and mentally ill

And lots of other really sensitive topics. I'll update the list at some point.

For my PTSD timeline (this is literally just a list of my trauma without many other aspects of my life. Discretion advised.):

If you want to donate to help with my treatment, or if you would like to donate to help me with writing my memoir, you can donate to the links below:

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[spencers-dria]

Blood, So Much Blood

Someone To Stay Ch. 19

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: Gun, knife, blood, violence, sexual assault, NGL it get's pretty dark and twisty

You dance around your living room, slipping and sliding across the floor in your mismatched Christmas socks. You just got back from visiting your family for Thanksgiving. As much as you wanted to bring Spencer along, he had been called away on yet another case. Neither of you were thrilled, but you understood. You still bragged endlessly to your family about how wonderful he was and how much he cared about helping others. They understood as well. You seemed to win them over just with your stories of how the relationship got started.

But now you're back in your apartment, quickly cleaning up and putting out your decorations as you dance to the Christmas music station. Spencer had sent a quick text letting you know he would be back from the case tonight. You prepared for the fact that he might be too tired to spend time together, but you were not about to be caught unprepared, just in case.

The last month with Spencer has been magical. It was difficult to make time for dates with your schedules, but somehow he made it work. He always makes time for you, whether it means stopping by on his way home after his flight lands, just to kiss you goodnight, or a quick phone call after he gets to his hotel room before he promptly passes out. He had definitely fallen asleep on the phone once or twice. It was adorable and you didn't mind one bit.

A knock on the door sends your heart racing. Call it the honeymoon phase or whatever you like, but you were sure that he would never stop making you feel this way. You take a deep breath before swinging open the door, and you find yourself utterly speechless.

All you can do is stare, mouth gaping open as your eyes lock on Spencer. You don't even consider that you have yet to give any kind of opinion on his new look. You're snapped out of your daze as he stares down at his feet, nervously rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

"Um 'M sorry...probably should have told you first. Or not cut it at all. I can put on a hat if it's that bad?" He mumbles toward the ground.

He looks up, watching you with doe eyes, waiting for any kind of reaction. You finally move, your hands reach up to feel the freshly shaven sides of his head before running through the fluffy locks on top.

"Don't you dare", you mutter under your breath before pulling at his neck until he meets your lips. He's too stunned, forgetting to move for a moment before you feel him return the kiss with equal enthusiasm, hands sliding to wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

You aren't sure when you made your way to the couch, but you find yourself sitting in his lap, running your fingers through his hair as you bite at his perfectly plump bottom lip. Your tongues tease one another with each kiss as your skin ignites underneath the touch of his hands as he runs them through your hair, over your back and down to your hips.

The two of you finally come up for air. You look into his eyes, tracing his jaw with your fingertips before speaking up, "we should probably..."

"Yeah" he nods in agreement.

You slip off his lap and cuddle up into his side as he wraps his arms around you. You both sigh in contentment. You had talked about your boundaries together, and had agreed to take it slow. It was difficult. It was an outdated notion, but it's what was best for you and he respected that completely.

"Look at us making out on the couch, we're like two overly hormonal teenagers," you can't hold in a giggle as you awkwardly hide your face in your hands.

You feel him tug at your wrists as he tries to look you in the eyes.

"Yeah about that, what got into you huh?" He bites his lip as he tries to hide a smirk, showing just how much he enjoyed it.

Your gaze drifts back to his hair. "Don't laugh at me okay?"

He puts on a serious expression but you can see he's already trying to hide a smile behind it.

"You know I loved your long hair right? It looked so good. And you've always been attractive to me. Never doubt that. But this..." You slip your fingers back into the longer hair on top, biting down on your lip to keep your smile form growing too big. "This is so incredibly hot! You are officially way out of my league Spencer Reid. I mean, more so than before. You're like...male model material!"

You can see the disbelief in his eyes but he still smiles and blushes at your gushing.

"Cut it out! Be serious, do you really like it?"

You hold his face in your hand, turning it towards you as you lean impossibly close, never once breaking eye contact.

"I am being deadly serious. I already showed you how I feel about it. But if you've forgotten I might have to remind you."

His blush deepened by about ten shades of red as he looked up with you with his classic boyish smile. Same old adorable Spencer. You opt for leaving a small kiss on his nose, and he looks at you with all the admiration in the world before leaning back over to nuzzle his nose against yours. He knows you love this. You're not sure why you enjoy it so much, but something about it feel so incredibly intimate.

You hum contently, enjoying the feeling as you take in the comforting smell of winter spices and pine. He had started picking out cologne that he knew you would enjoy. You had even sprayed some of it on his sweaters that you had stolen.

He wraps the two of you up in a blanket. The only sound in the room is the crackling of the fire you had lit not long before he came over. You stay nuzzled up together, not speaking, not kissing, just enjoying being with one another.

You open your eyes to look at him, and his eyes are closed as a smile of pure bliss graces his features.

“Y/N I..."

His eyes shoot open and he looks as though something has just startled him, despite there being no other sound than that of his own voice. He stands up, walking across the room before grabbing the remote and returning to your side.

"I-I...think we should watch a movie or something. Ya know? First Christmas movie of the season." He sounds so nervous and it breaks your heart. You wish he could read his mind, and make everything better. But you know not to push him. He always opens up when he's ready. You smile and nod. It's not a bad idea after all.

You convinced him to watch one of your family's favorites "A Christmas Story". He found himself laughing along with you at some of the funny but ridiculous moments: Flick getting his tongue stuck to the pole, the father receiving his leg lamp award, the duck for Christmas dinner.

You find your mind drifting to how much you want a family of your own. You hadn't discussed it with Spencer. He may not even want kids. You had purposefully avoided more serious topics in hopes that Spencer would stay. You couldn't risk losing him. But if he was going to be around for the long haul, shouldn't you make sure the two of you want the same things? You've seen how good he is with Henry, and it melts your heart every time. He really would be a wonderful father.

You're staring at him as the thoughts run through your head. For some reason, your mouth decided to speak without asking your brain for permission.

"Do you want kids?" The words are out before you can stop them. Your hand covers your mouth in hopes of shoving them back in, but its too late. You feel absolutely humiliated and terrified. You've done it. You've ruined this. He's going to run for the hills.

Except he doesn't. Instead he turns to look at you, a bright smile on his face. "Of course! Without a doubt. "

You feel yourself let go of the breath you hadn't realized you were holding as relief washes over you like a warm shower. He reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours and slowly rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I didn't know if it was too early to talk about but I do... I really really do."

He places a kiss on top of your head before pulling you in closer as both of you turn your attention back to the movie. You knew that was all that needed to be said, for now. It was enough to know he wanted a family as much as you do. And you hoped that he could see that future with you in it.

_____________________________________________________________

It's your last day of work before your long awaited trip to Orlando with Spencer. You can't wait to finally take him to one of your favorite places. He loves Harry Potter almost as much as you do. And you already know he would appreciate all the small details that had been placed amongst the stores and rides. You look forward to hearing every single fact he can possibly share about each ride as you wait in the lines. You know you won't be bored for a single moment as long as he is by your side.

After putting on a clean pair of scrubs, you get in the car and begin your drive to work, soft Christmas music playing in the background as you hum along.

You make it all the way to 2PM before finding the time to take a lunch break. You decide to wander down to the cafeteria in the basement of the hospital, putting in your ear buds while the elevator makes its way down.

You hear your work phone make the familiar sound, letting you know it's out of range. This is always a relief, seeing as you won't be constantly bothered while you wait in line to order your food. It's always short lived, the beeps and calls returning the second you return to the floor with lunch, but you'll take any kind of break you can get.

While waiting in line, your mind wanders to the conversation between you and Spencer the night before. It was short, but the look in his eyes told you more than his words ever could. He truly cared about you. And you really believe he saw a long future with you.

As you make your way through the empty back halls leading to the elevator, you can hear an announcement being made over the speaks, though you can't make it out over the sound of your music. Another code blue in the CCU most likely.

You walk over to your spot at the nursing desk to pick up your water bottle. It isn't until you take out your ear buds that you realize how eerily quiet the floor is. Quiet. It's like a curse word in hospitals. Saying it will certainly bring on immediate doom.

You make your way around the floor. All of the patient doors are closed, as are the doors separating A and B side. The announcement must have been for another fire drill. It's just protocol. You continue to make your way down the hall looking for any other the nurses. The doctors. Therapists. Techs? It's a weekday. The floor should be like rush hour. Instead it feels like a ghost town, aside from the patients lying in bed in their rooms.

You get an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Your pace picks up as your search for anyone else turns into more of a panic.

Before you can enter into the staff breakroom, a chill runs up the back of your neck.

"Nurse Y/L/N."

You turn to see a family member of one of your former patients.

"Mr. Gray what are you doing here? Is everything okay? Do you need help finding someone?"

"I was looking for someone. But I just found her."

His voice is stone cold. Your eyes are locked on the movement of his hand has he raises it, revealing a gun that is now pointed directly at your head. He's only a few feet away. He's not close enough for you to hurt him in anyway or surprise him enough to run away. He's not so far that he could possibly miss if he pulled the trigger.

You work to slow your breathing and you feel your emotions switch off, allowing you to focus on sharpening your thoughts in the moment.

"If you need to talk to me, we can do that. Let's just sit down and talk ok?"

"NO! You've talked enough. My wife is dead because of you. You watched her die. You didn't help her. I lost the love of my life and it's all your fault."

He steps forward, leaning so close that you can feel his breath against your ear before he whispers "and now you're going to pay."

Your mind is racing as he grabs your wrist shoving you forward. You feel the steel of the gun on the back of your head as he orders you where to turn, leading you through several doors and hallways.

They would have called the police by now right? That must have been what that announcement was, some kind of lock down. They have to know. That's why you couldn't find anyone. That means help is on the way. But what if they don't find him in time? Find you in time?

In time for what you don't even know. He probably wanted to kill you. But if he only wanted to kill you on site he would have done it already. It's the way he's ordering you around, leading you to a second location that makes your stomach turn. What could he possibly do that's worse than death? You don't want to think about it. Poor Spencer has to. He deals with this every day at work. Spencer...Spencer!

You need him here. Silently in your mind you pray that he would find you and save you before you could be in any real danger.

Mr. Gray opens a door to a patient room, and pulls the blinds shut, keeping the gun trained on you the entire time. You look for something, anything that can help you. Spencer would know what to do. He would know how to get out of this. But you. You're just a nurse, with no FBI training. And you feel truly helpless.

"Get on the bed!" He yells. You feel like you could be sick. Tears threaten to break through, but you're determined not to show any signs of fear to this psycho.

"Now!" He raises his voice even louder as he presses the gun against your forehead.

You reluctantly lay down on the hospital bed, refusing to look anything but incredibly pissed off. Truthfully, you are mortified. You want to scream, yell, cry, but you don't make a sound.

He sets the gun down and pulls out some restraints usually kept in the hospital supply room, and he begins to tie your wrists and ankles to the bed. Then he pulls out a knife, dragging it along your jaw and down your neck, before placing it right above your heart.

He leans down to whisper "One wrong move and I will slice you up into little pieces."

You feel your body tense as you fight off every natural reaction to cry or scream. Instead you spit in his face.

He wipes it off with nothing but a smug grin on his face. He knows no matter what you do, he still has total control in this situation.

The knife makes its way down, and you hear the ripping of fabric as he cuts through your scrubs. Your muscles tighten at the sting of the cool air. Your eyes clench shut as he drag the blade up the inside of your thigh, just deep enough to break the skin. You soon feel the dribble of blood running down your skin, but this is far from over. He continues in this manner, leaving cuts on your legs, your stomach, your chest, anywhere that felt too intimate to be touched by a stranger.

Tears have broken through and are streaming down your face but you remain silent. You are determined to not give him the satisfaction of begging. You try not to think about the scars that will remain, unsure if you will even make it out of this room alive.

A hand slips inside your underwear and you try to close your eyes even more, hoping to block out every possible sensation. In your mind you are anywhere but here. You're curled up on the couch, watching the fire, Spencer by your side. Spencer, who would protect you at all costs. Spencer who you love.

You are snapped back to reality by the sharp pain in your lower abdomen. Your eyes fly open to the blade sinking into your skin. And the blood, so much blood.  You can't hold back any more. Tears are pouring out as you call for help. You scream in pain. You scream so loud that it physically hurts. You scream until you lose every last ounce of energy within you. You call his name over and over, willing him to appear in front of you, if only to see him one last time before you slip into the darkness that is slowly taking hold of you.

"Spencer..."

A/N: So I included a pretty serious topic in this chapter. I know it seems like it kinda came out of no where. But I want anyone who has experienced sexual assault of any kind to know they are not alone. It is not your fault. And it is okay to call it what it is. Don't let anyone, including the little voice inside your head convince you that it is no big deal. It's okay to ask for help. It's better if you do. This doesn't have to be a friend or a parent if you're not comfortable with that. I have included the national sexual assault help line as well as the suicide help line and some other links. Never be ashamed to seek help. It takes a lot of strength. 

Also, any of you who need to talk to me about anything are more than welcome to message me. I am here for you always.

Thanks for your support in reading my story, I love you all!

Fairytales1896 aka Spencer’s Dria

Resources:

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 800.656.HOPE (4673

https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Human Trafficking Hotline:  1-888-373-7888

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255