#happen in someones life that might make them not want to stream for a bit

[dwtdog]

do you think he got an extension for emotional clauses because at this point i would. poor fucking sapnap man half of his friends are gone and the other half are getting attacked by the internet fuckkk poor him

at least he had fun in the mc event a few days ago and made new friends 😭 maybe bro just needs to pick up duolingo and leave the english speaking mcyt side behind

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

[astrologanize]

pick a card : what making out with you feels like for them ᡣ𐭩…

could be someone you're already seeing or your future person, whatever it is...whoever you are asking about...this is what it feels like for them (: *please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

for pile 1 ✩˚

well, hello there. while trying to channel and synthesize this spread i thought about how this pile has something very instinctive going on within the makeout sessions, there's viscera, and cillian murphy came to mind somehow?? he does have a very mars look imo so maybe that's why, but it reminded me of a gif that i believe is from peaky blinders (never seen the show but i exist on tumblr so...) that i will add (it's a lil nsfw i guess?). anyhow. when it comes to your makeouts with this person, it feels like a nice balance of release and control for them because on one hand they do feel very disarmed while making out with you but at the same time they're acting deliberately - which is why instinct is coming through...it's like having a flow of reflexive movement. i'm not seeing you two going crazy and having vigorous kisses, there is a slowness to it, there's a building of inertia. making out with you makes them feel like their life is in their hands, their free will is palpably felt, and it brings out a sort of self-discipline in them

for pile 2 ✩˚

this person looooooves making out with you, they feel like they're having a movie moment when you guys are kissing, and the connection itself is what is at the forefront when they're kissing you. this seems like someone who hasn't had great experiences with romance and making out with you imbues them with so much hope. it's like if this person had a horribly messy breakup a couple years prior, they were with someone for quite a while and it ended up turning into a nightmare that left an ugly mark and they became jaded by it. making out with you feels like a rebirth - they don't feel afraid, they feel uninhibited, their cup is wonderfully full. they are not in the slightest bit doubtful of how they feel for you and they are certain that they want this; when they kiss you it will feel like a sweet plead - please love me back. there is no ego when it comes to kissing you because they are happily willing to give their all. making out with you does help them to move on from any residual gunk they've been dealing with

for pile 3 ✩˚

what is wanting to come through strongly is that this person is the one somehow taking the lead in the makeout session because when they're making out with you they feel firm, they feel empowered, they're like 'i got this'. lol...funnily enough though, whatever it is about making out with you...they don't expect it to go the way it does and it throws them off their game. something about making out with you is new for them, there's a notable oscillation happening within them, an internal battle of hot n cold energy. the makeout session itself won't be all over the place, once you start making out you guys just keep going at a constant and indefinite pace. this person is probably used to getting what they want/doing what they want/being reckless, this person is hardened - they keep their feelings in check and like being in control. & even though they feel in control while making out with you and do like feeling as such, there's something about making out with you that wakes them up and brings out a softer side. making out with you feels like a stream of consciousness for them

for pile 4 ✩˚

this is my fun makeout sesh pile 😛

what you guys say to each other before/during making out is being highlighted so maybe there's some steamy words being exchanged, some sweet talkin' perhaps. y'alls makeout session(s) involves experimenting, it's messy, it's sloppy, there's coloring outside the lines, it's an indulgence and you guys change things up during it. it does seem like this is more casual and that this person might be hesitant to take things further. this may be someone who is really attached to their independence and/or is perpetually single so even though they're having fun with it, they are holding back and not giving their all. making out with you is going to make them try to consider and factor feelings into the equation, they may just take the leap for once

love this song for pile 4

[muffinpink02]

Bronze Is Better Then Gold Part 4

Warnings - smut 18

“Right, it's only a small cut. I’ll give it a clean, just to be safe.” Lauren H said, as she opened up the medic bag.

“Thank you.” Ona sighed. 

“This might sting.” 

“It's fine- oww! That hurts.” Ona scowled. 

Lauren laughed. “I did say it was going to hurt.” 

Lucy walked over to the pair, a look on her face that Ona didn't like. 

“The boss wants to talk to us.” Lucy looked between her and Lauren.

Ona let out a sigh, forgetting about the sting of the alcohol on her cut. “Shit.”

Lauren packed away the medical bag. “You’re all done. Good luck guys.” She scurried away.

Lucy drove them back to the office. She looked over at the younger brunette, she looked more scared now then she did on the bridge. “Don’t stress too much. She's just going to be a bit pissed, but it's not going to be that bad. Trust me, I’ve done worse.” 

Ona looked over at Lucy, a small smile crept on her face. “You sure?”

Lucy scrunched up her face and waved her hand. “Pssh yeah, she's a pussy cat.” 

They drove the rest of the way in silence but it didn’t feel strained or awkward, it was needed after what just happened, it was comfortable like it was before. 

Sarina wasn't a pussy cat, but she wasn't as angry as Lucy thought she'd be either. 

“What were you thinking, Ona? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. I’ll tell you what you were thinking. Nothing! Nothing smart could have gone through your head when you decided to run off and chase an extremely dangerous criminal without your partner, without any backup. You didn't even have your gun! It was the most irresponsible thing an agent could do, and you did it. I expected better from you, Ona.”

Ona hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

“She just didn't want him to get away, mam. if it makes you feel any better she did a number on his face.” Lucy chuckled lightly.

Sarina now had her attention on Lucy who was standing next to Ona. 

“Don’t you start. Don't think I haven’t noticed a shift in you. I don’t know what's going on with the pair of you but I want it sorted.”

The girls shifted awkwardly on their spots.

Sarina sighed. “Leave.”

The girls left. Neither looking back. 

The thing is, Ona wouldn't tell you this, but she had run after Slims in some small hope that Lucy would talk to her again, to even have her look at her for longer than 5 seconds. It was also out of instinct but in the back of her mind she was hoping if she caught Slims, Lucy might want to be her friend again. She knew it was silly but she was desperate. But, she probably did the reverse, and made Lucy even more angry with her.

Only if she knew that when Lucy had got home that night she broke down crying the moment she closed her door. The older brunette didn't get further than her hallway when she felt the hot tears streaming down her face.

A rush of emotions hit her hard. Seeing Ona in danger like she did today was a complete shock to the system. Lucy had felt completely helpless, seeing the younger girl trapped like she did, the pain she was in, and she couldn't do anything to protect her. It was one of the scariest positions she’d ever been in, and that’s coming from someone who has had several guns pointing at her. Not all at once of course, but the girl had been in life threatening situations. But this was scary, and it was scary because it was Ona. 

And she should know better, this wasn't the first time she had been in a situation of losing someone close to her. She was just thankful history hadn’t repeated itself. 

That's when she sobbed harder as she thought about how she had treated the younger girl this last month. How horrible she had been to her, hardly talking to her, being so fucking cold towards her, how selfish she had been. If she had lost Ona today she would never have forgiven herself. She knew she was handling the situation badly, and this was a wake up call.

The thought alone at losing Ona in any way frightened her deeply. She realised if Ona wanted her as just a friend then she was lucky enough to have that. Even if she did want her as so much more. 

She knew she needed to fix things.

She took herself to shower, washing her puffy face, her head was banging from all of her crying. She took a deep breath as she washed the day away. She made her way to her bedroom and looked at her phone, she began to type.

Lucy - Hey, can I pick you up tomorrow?

Ona was drying her hair when she got the text from the older brunette. Like Lucy, she had tried to wash the stressful day off herself, especially her hair. She was shocked to see a text from the older brunette. And when she read it she was even more shocked and slightly confused. Why did she want to pick her up? She was annoyed at how her stomach fluttered, she did still like Lucy after all. But those butterflies died quickly, she assumed Lucy was probably going to give her a hard time about her actions, tell her how foolish it was to run off without her partner. She dried the rest of her hair before she replied.

Ona - Sure, I’ll see you then

Lucy smiled, it wasn't like their texts before, but it was a start.

—-------------

Lucy pulled up in her spot where she would always park, she smiled when she saw the shorter girl sitting at her usual spot on the wall. The northerners' hands were sweating, she really hoped it wasn't too late to make things up with Ona.

The Spaniard took a deep breath as she approached the car, she braced herself to be scolded by Lucy. She kind of regretted agreeing to this, was it too late to run back to her flat? Ona sat in the passenger seat, looking over at Lucy with a timid smile, she was understandably nervous. Lucy had been nothing but weird with her, and frankly rude, she was unsure what she could have wanted.

Lucy smiled a little awkwardly at the younger brunette, she could tell the Spaniard was confused and maybe even a bit scared. Ona wasn’t really herself around her anymore, it broke her heart to see, but she knew it was her own fault. 

“Morning.” Lucy smiled.

“Good morning.” Ona breathed out.

Nearly 10 seconds had passed, Lucy was struggling to find the words that she had practised all last night.

“Ona, I...,” - “So..,” Both girls spoke over the other, making them nervously laugh. 

Lucy took a deep breath.

“Ona, I don’t really know where to start. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know I’ve been weird this last month. I was just going through some personal stuff and it’s no excuse but it got in the way of my work and affected my relationship with you. And I regret it. I’m really sorry.” She breathed out. “I fucked up, but I really hope I can be your friend again. And if you don’t want that, I understand.” 

Well, Ona wasn't expecting that. Was she happy to hear Lucy apologise? Yes, but she couldn't help but wonder, why? Why did Lucy act that way? They were so close before, close in many ways. She wanted to ask what Lucy meant with ‘personal stuff.’ but she didn't want to rock the boat, this was already a surprise. And a happy surprise at that, Ona wasn't one for holding grudges, even though Ona was young she was just a little more mature than some people her age, and maybe older. 

Ona looked at Lucy, doing that thing where she could see into her soul, her big brown chocolate eyes looking right at her. 

She smiled brightly. “Sí, you were a dick, but It’s okay, these things happen. I would really like to go back to how we were, friends.” 

They both said the word loud and clear ‘friend’, the pair flinching at the fact that they both had said it. But that's what this relationship was now, and always had been. Friends.

“I err, also got you some fresh coffee and some fresh chocolate chip muffins.” Lucy held up the bag smiling gingerly. 

Ona chuckled sweetly. “Okay, that makes it a little better.” 

Lucy felt a little tension leave her shoulders as she passed Ona over her coffee, it may not be perfect but was a start.

—-------------

“Do we have to listen to Christmas music everyday? Mariah Carey is getting on my nerves.” Lucy covered her face in annoyance. 

“Get a grip Bronze, it happens every year. Stop being a grinch!” Jess shouted across the room, laughing with Lauren H.

It was the second week of December, Ona eyed up the newly hung Christmas decorations around the office. She couldn't keep the smile off her face, the Spaniard loved Christmas, it was her favourite time of year.

She loved the music, the food, the gifts, the drinks, the cheesy Christmas movies, but most of all she loved that it was an excuse to be with your loved ones. Though some years were hard, not being able to share it with her family. Her fondest memories was when she was a child, herself and her brother used to try and keep each other awake to spot Father Christmas, though they never did. 

The first year Ona arrived in London she had spent Christmas alone. She had hoped to get a call or card from her parents but they never did. She tried to call, but they didn't answer when they saw it was her number. Her brother called her secretly, but that only hurt her more.

Her friend's face timed her throughout the day, but she insisted they spent the day with their families, not wanting to bother them. So, she spent Christmas alone, she even went into the new years alone.

She had never cried so much in her life. It hurt her, not being able to be with the people she loved, but her parents didn’t want anything to do with her, even if it was Christmas. 

But, since her friends moved to London she had spent every Christmas, New Years and everything in between with them. They would make their traditional festive food, play their music, and partake in the traditions they did when they were children. So, for Ona, Christmas was still a holiday she loved, even if she couldnt spend it with her blood family, she spent it with the family she chose.

Ona and Lucy were watching Jill, Demi and Jordan decorate the Christmas tree. Well, it was more Jill telling the others that they were doing it wrong, moving a bauble every time they placed it on a branch. 

“No! What are you doing? It’s already too crowded down there. Giss it here, you obviously can't reach higher than half way up. Yous put all the decorations at the bottom. No. Jordan don’t hit. You know I’ll have you on the floor.” Jill laughed.

Ona and Lucy chuckled at the show in front of them. “Would Jill really be able to beat Jordan?” Ona asked.

Lucy scoffed. “Not a chance, Jill knows it too.” 

Ona watched on. “Hmm. Tea?” 

“I’ll do it, you made tea last.” Lucy got up and made her way to the kitchen.

Since Lucy apologised just over a week ago she had been trying her best to make it up to Ona. They started going for lunch again, they even went back to the chip shop, Lucy brought Ona on her first week. The texts came back, but they weren't as often, though that was kind of expected.

Lucy even got Ona to agree on taking lifts with her again, but it wasn’t hard, it was December and cold. And yeah, it was still the Spaniards favourite part of the day. But Lucy didn’t need to know that.

It quickly went back to how it was between them, but the flirting had stopped. Well, kind of. Sometimes it had a way of creeping itself in, but neither girl minded, they would laugh it off and change the subject.

It wasn't too different, just a lot less tension. Well, it was a different kind of tension, but neither girl could really understand what it was, it was just…new.

Did Ona get butterflies every morning she got in Lucy's car when the brunette gave her that smile that she loved? Yes. Did Lucy find herself completely mesmerised by Ona when she stuck her tongue out in contraction when she was making notes on her laptop? Yes.

Did they still have feelings for each other? Yes. Did they want more than to be friends? Yes. Did they have the guts to be honest with each other and tell the other how they feel? No. It was complicated.

—-----

“As most of you know, yesterday Harvey Smith or ‘Bugz’ was sentenced to 20 years in prison, with no chance of parole. We also managed to track down most of the members that were involved in working for the Smith brothers, they were sentenced to 10 years. So that's the good news” 

Lucy looked at the white board with all the criminals' faces plastered on it. She continued. 

“Frank Smith's body hasn't been retrieved from the river, we understand the river does lead out to the Thames so it's more than likely it may possibly never be retrieved. The case will be officially closed once the last bits of paper work are complete. Jordan, I'm looking at you.” 

“Will be done by Wednesday, boss.” She nodded.

Lucy smiled. “Okay great, well done guys. This case was an intense one, but you've all done amazing. So, thank you and well done. We’ll start work on the ‘Green’ case next week. I know Hempo’s already got many leads on that. Anyways it's Friday, it's half 4. Rose and Crown it is.”

The group clapped and cheered on closing a case, and of course the mention of the pub. But mostly for putting criminals behind bars. An hour and a half  later most of the team was in the pub. Ona was listening to Demi and Mary argue about what the best Christmas film was when she got a text on the group message. 

Alexia - hey guys, I just wanted to let you know i'm going home this christmas, my mum is getting angry with me for not going, will be gone till after new years. I’m sorry 🙁 Ona my mums asked for you to come.

Mapi - I was going to tell you guys tonight but ingrid has asked me to go with her to Norway for christmas and new years to meet her family, I said yes and we bought tickets already 

Ona felt her heart sink. She felt stupid for it but her eyes started to well up. The thought of spending this Christmas alone really wasn't something she wanted. Even though Alexia had asked her to come she wouldn't accept the offer. Her parents lived a road away from Alexia's parents, she would never chance bumping into them. It would hurt too much knowing they would ignore her if they saw her.

She quickly excused herself and ran to the bathroom, she could feel the tears just about to overflow. She opened the door and crashed into a hard body. 

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn't looking. Oh. Lucy.”

Lucy smiled but it instantly dropped when she saw Ona’s face, her beautiful brown eyes welling up with tears.

“Woah, what's wrong?” She gently put her hand on Ona’s shoulder.

You know when you're already about to cry and you're holding it in as much as you physically can, but someone asks ‘what's wrong?’ and the flood gates open up? Yeah, that's exactly what happened to Ona. She felt the first tear slip, then another, until her cheeks were wet. 

“Oh Ona, what happened? Talk to me.” 

Lucy felt her heart break seeing the younger girl like this. She didn't think about her next move; she just did it. She brought Ona close to her chest. Pulling her into a tight hug. She felt so small in her arms, so vulnerable.

She was the perfect height to fit under Lucy's chin, that's when she felt her body shake from the small sobs. She hugged her even tighter, rubbing her hands up and down Ona’s back in the most gentle motion. 

Maybe it was because of the drink in her system, or the horrible memories she had of her first year here, that she never thought she'd have to experience again, or the fact that she was in Lucy's arms.

When Ona let go, she cried and sobbed. She just needed a little comfort. She needed this so badly. And Lucy was more than happy to let her cry into her chest for as long as she needed.

After about 5 minutes of crying Ona took a deep breath and pulled back, she saw the wet patch she left on Lucy's shirt. 

“Oh, sorry Lucy.” She pointed to the dark patches. 

Lucy looked down at her top and smiled. “It's not the first time a girl got me wet.” 

Ona laughed through wet eyes, only Lucy would say something like that while Ona had just been sobbing. She just wanted to make her laugh and she did. Ona had to shake the inappropriate thoughts from her head.

“What's wrong, Ona?” Lucy grabbed the shorter girl's shoulders, her serious face was now on. 

“It's so stupid, I don't even know why I’m crying like this.” She sniffled. “My friends aren't going to be here for christmas and new years. So, I'll be alone. And….yeah, its stupid.” She shook her head at herself as she wiped her tears. 

“That's not stupid. It makes complete sense why you’d be upset.”

Lucy didn’t know if it was the drink, or the way her heart broke for the petite girl in front of her, or the fact that she wanted to spend any moment she could with Ona, that her next words came out. “Spend it with me.” 

Ona looked up at the older brunette. “What?”

“Yeah, I’m staying with my parents for Christmas. Come with me.” She smiled brightly.

“I couldn't do that.” Ona lied, she could definitely do that.

“Yeah you could. It will be fun. I also have a party I’ve been invited to for new years, you could come with me. Or if you’re not into that we can just spend it together.” 

She wanted that so badly. 

Ona felt her heart pounding. Was this really happening? Her emotions were all over the place. One minute she was a mess of tears, now she could run through the pub and do summersaults. Don’t get her wrong she was sad about her friends not being here for Christmas, but spending any time with Lucy was still something she wanted everyday. 

“I can see a smile creeping on your face. You'll come, yeah?” 

Ona wanted to argue more, she wanted to say no. But she couldn’t bring herself to, she wanted nothing more than to be with Lucy. So what was the point of lying?

Ona nodded, a shy smile plastered her lips. She really hoped Lucy wanted her to come and it wasn't just out of pity. But the smile Lucy gave Ona made those feelings melt away. 

“Good, it's settled, you're coming to mine for Christmas. I’ll be driving, it's a 4 hour drive, you better be a good DJ.” 

Ona threw her head back laughing, that laugh always did something to Lucy. 

“You know I have the better music taste.” Ona teased. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just no Christmas music.” Lucy playfully rolled her eyes.

A silence fell over them, both not knowing what to say, but wanting to say so much. 

“Thank you, Lucy.” Ona wiped her nose.

“You don't need to thank me. It will be fun. I’m going to the bar, what do you want to drink?” 

“Ah, an aperol spritz?” 

Lucy shook her head, smiling. “I don’t know how you drink that. It tastes like petrol.”

The Spaniard laughed. “You just don’t have taste.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucy squeezed Ona’s arm as she started to leave for the bar. “You okay, yeah?” 

“Yeah, thank you.” Ona smiled. 

The older brunette made her way to the bar, she couldn't hold back the smile on her face. Did that really just happen? Was she really going to be spending Christmas with Ona? She felt giddy, like a kid on Christmas day. She waited to be served, when she felt someone beside her.

“Hey Lucy.”

“Hi Jen.” Lucy gave her a tight smile.

“Aye, listen I’m sorry about Ona, I didn't know you two were a thing at the time. I wouldn't have said what I said,”

“We’re not a thing.” Lucy finally looked at Jen. 

“Oh? Could have fooled me.”

“What?” 

Jen chuckled. “Come on. I’ve seen you two around. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And you her.”  

“We’re just friends. Partners. We have to be close.” 

“Aye, yeah, friends.” The Scottish women winked at Lucy. 

“We are just friends. I thought you two were a thing.” 

Jen scoffed. “Are you blind? She likes you. I should've realised when I spoke to her at your birthday. The girl wouldn't stop talking about you.” Jen rolled her eyes playfully. 

“I don’t thi-,” 

“Luce. Come on. She was looking around for you all night at the bar. Asking everyone if they had seen you.” She scoffed again, shaking her head. Whispering the next words. “I tried to dance with her. She thought I was you.” 

“What?” 

Jen rolled her eyes. “This is hurting my ego enough.” She sighed. “I tried to dance with her, and I thought she was into it, until she basically pushed me away after she realised it was me dancing with her. I swear she said your name, thinking I was you.” 

Lucy felt her heart sink. Realisation finally kicking in. 

Jen continued “So yeah. The girl likes you. I thought you were kind of a thing now? Are you not?” Jen looked confused.

“No.” 

“Pshh mate.” Jen put her hand on Lucy's shoulder and shook her head in disbelief. “Anyways, I’ve said enough. Enjoy your night.” 

“Y-yeah, thanks. You too.” 

Lucy let out a deep sigh, shaking her head in disbelief. She felt a weird excited but dreaded feeling in her stomach. Had she really messed up this badly? If Ona did actually like her, she had obviously ruined anything that could have potentially happened between them. Or had she? She did just invite her to have Christmas with her family, and Ona said yes. A quick yes. But, as friends. But? No. Maybe? Maybe there was a chance. 

-----------

Ona was sat on the wall waiting for Lucy to pick her up. It was the morning of Christmas Eve. Ona would be lying if she didn't say she was nervous, only 3 weeks ago herself and Lucy wasn't even speaking, now she was spending Christmas with her and her family. Talk about your turn of events.

Lucy pulled up beeping her horn at Ona, smiling when the girl shook her head at her silliness. Ona wasn't the only one that was nervous. When Lucy asked her to spend Christmas with her and her family, she wasn't actually thinking about what that could mean. She was also maybe a little tipsy when she asked, so she hadn’t thought about the implications of her question, but it didn't make her any less excited that Ona said yes. 

Lucy got out of the car, helping Ona with her bag and what looked like a bag with gifts. 

“Hola, good morning.” Ona smiled.

“Good morning. Here, let's put that in the boot.” She lifted up a bag spotting the wrapping paper. “Ona you didn't have to get any gifts.” Lucy complained.

“What? Don’t be stupid. It's Christmas, of course I have gifts.” She argued.

“Well, thank you but you really shouldn't have.” Lucy shook her head smiling at Ona’s thoughtfulness.

Ona playfully rolled her eyes at the older girl. The pair got into the car and made their way up North. 

The first hour they spoke non stop, it was so easy. They could speak about anything and everything. The second hour they listened to music, Lucy even put on some christmas songs after Ona pouted and gave her puppy dog eyes. By the third hour they played games, like ‘eye spy', ‘21 questions', and ‘would you rather?’ By the fourth hour Lucy noticed Ona’s eyes dropping. Another five minutes and the girl was sleeping quietly next to her.

Lucy couldn't help but steal glances at the younger brunette, her face was so soft. She looked incredibly peaceful. She looked beautiful. 20 minutes before they arrived Lucy woke Ona up, she really didn't want to disturb her but she also thought Ona would want to wake up a little before they arrived.

“Ona. Ona, wake up. Come on, sleepy head.” Lucy gently nudged her.

Ona slowly opened her eyes. She looked confused at first but smiled when she saw Lucy. 

“We’re nearly there.” 

“Sorry Lucy. I didn't mean to sleep for so long.” Ona stretched.

“No, I don’t mind.”

They finally arrived. Lucy turned the engine off and turned to the shorter girl.

“Right, like I said my mum can chat for britain. Just smile and nod. My brother is a dick and is always teasing. His wife Molly is normal, you'll get on with her, maybe.” She smiled cheekily at Ona. “My dad just pots about, he doesn't really get in anyone's way.” 

“Aye, come on, I'll be fine.” 

“Yeah, you will. If anything becomes too much or you just want some of your own space, or just need a break. Please give me a signal. It can be a lot with your own family on Christmas, let alone someone else's.”

Ona gave Lucy a deadpan look. “Lucy, come on.” 

“No, you come on. Give me a signal.” 

Ona scooped Lucy’s little finger with her own. Bringing it in between them. “This okay?”

Lucy's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't an intimate touch, not at all, but it felt special. It felt familiar. Lucy smiled. “Okay, that's good.” 

Ona smiled, she didn't think about what she was doing when she grabbed Lucy's finger. She felt stupid for it but she felt a weird spark, a shiver that travelled through her. But she couldn't help but notice how natural it felt to touch Lucy, even though it was a small piece of her, she liked it a lot.

The girls grabbed their bags and made their way to Lucy's childhood home. The taller brunette knocked on the door and turned to Ona and mouthed ‘Good luck.’

The door opened to an older looking Lucy, Ona recognised Lucy's mum from the face time they had back on Lucy's birthday.

“Oh Ona! It's so lovely to finally meet you!” Lucy's mum side stepped Lucy completely,  engulfing Ona in a rib breaking hug. 

Ona smiled at the older woman, she embraced her hug easily. It had been a while since she had this type of hug, a mothers hug. She instantly felt the warmth from her, it was nice, it was something she had missed for years. 

“It's so nice to finally meet you. Thank you for having me.” Ona tried to not struggle from the squeeze of Lucy's mum.

Lucy's mum finally let go. “Don’t be silly. I’m so happy to have you here.” She held Ona by her arms stroking her lovingly. 

“No you’re alright, I didn't just drive four hours to be ignored.” Lucy said with a deadpan stare at her mum.

“Oh Lucy calm down, I speak to you all the time. She's so moody isn't she Ona? Lord knows what it's like to work with her. Come on then, give me a cuddle.” Lucy didn't have time to argue, before she was being squashed by her mum's bear-like grip.

Ona smiled at the pair's banter. 

“Come in girls. Get your bags upstairs. Ona what would you like to drink sweetheart? Tea, coffee? Prosecco? I've already opened a bottle.” 

“Oh, I’m okay for now, thank you. But I do have some cinamon rolls for you."

The older women's face lit up. "Oh Ona. Thank you! You shouldn't have, you angle!"

Ona passed the fresh baked goods over. Lucy's mum smiled as she took them. "Such a sweet girl."

Ona’s mum smiled warmly at her. “You let me know if you want anything, don't be scared to ask. Lucy, can you get the games out of the attic please. I can’t reach. John come and say hello to your daughter and Ona. Stop watching that pokie show!” Lucy's mum walked off.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Come, we'll take these upstairs. You can see my teenage room.” 

Before the girls could move Lucy's mum came back. “Oh Lucy, just so you know you and Ona will have to share your room. We’ve turned your sister's room into a home gym. She doesn't need it living in Australia now. I do my Davina Mcall workout in there every morning. I've lost 5 pounds already!” 

“Erm, okay no problem. Do we still have the blow up bed?” 

“No, your dad popped it when we had some friends round. Had to throw it away. You've got a double bed in your room, you can surely share.”

Lucy looked like a deer in headlights. Her and Ona were going to share a bed in her teenage bedroom? Her teenage self would be fisting the air right now. All three of the women heard Lucy's dad shout something in the background.

“What John? No, I don't know where the tape measurer is. What do you need that for?” And the older woman was gone again.

“Okay, looks like we’re bunking together. Do you mind?” Lucy started to walk up the stairs.

“No, not at all.” Ona smiled. She didn’t mind one bit.

Lucy opened the door to her old bedroom. Things had obviously changed a bit since it was her room, but her mum had kept some of her old posters and football trophies up. 

Ona smiled as she looked at the posters, some looked to have signatures on them. “You liked football huh?” 

“Still do.” Lucy came up behind her. 

“You can play?” Ona picked up one of the old trophies.

“I can. I’m really good.” Lucy said with a cocky smile on her face. 

“Not as good as me though.” A deep voice made them both jump.

Ona turned to see a young man standing in the doorway, he had familiar features to Lucy but only slight. “Hi, you must be the famous Ona. I’m Kevin.” He smiled. That's when Ona saw the resemblance.  

“Hello Kevin, it's lovely to meet you.” Ona smiled.

“She showing off again? She does that a lot.” Kevin smiled playfully.

“I apologise in advance, Ona.” Lucy moved over to hug her brother but was caught in a headlock that she easily got out of after punching her brother right in the chest. 

Ona giggled at the sister and brother relationship. It wasn't too far off her own relationship with her brother, when she had still lived in Spain.

“Auntie Lucy!” A smaller voice joined the commotion.

Ona watched as the little raven haired girl grasped on to Lucy's leg. “Hey, Rudy!” Lucy grabbed the girl and brought her into a hug. “How's my favourite niece?” 

The little girl laughed. “I’m your only niece.”

Lucy kissed her cheek. “Hey Ruds, come say hi to my friend Ona.”

For some reason Ona felt nervous, of all the people she wanted to make a good impression on it was Lucy's niece. She knew Lucy adored the girl, so this was important to her. The little girl nodded suddenly, becoming a little shy. Lucy walked them over to Ona. The Spaniard then noticed Rudy looked like a younger version of Lucy. The resemblance was uncanny. 

“Hello Rudy, I’m Ona.” Ona gave Rudy a small wave. 

“Hello Ona.” The girl tucked her head into Lucy's neck, keeping her eyes on Ona.

“I like your shoes. I've got some just like yours. But I like the colours on yours more.” Ona tapped the girl's shoes. 

“Auntie Lucy got them for me.” She said proudly, smiling at the Spaniard.

“Oh did she? She has good taste.” Ona smiled.

“Yeah. I want juice.” The younger girl escaped from Lucy's arms and ran out of the room. Leaving the two women alone.

“She’s so cute.” 

“Yeah. When she’s not being a brat.” Lucy laughed.

An awkward silence fell over the pair. Ona eyed up the double bed, then back to the posters. “Do you play now?” 

Lucy looked at the posters. “Now and again. I have a team I play on a Sunday with. I played a lot more when I was younger. I nearly went to America to train, but I injured my knee when I was 17. Couldn’t play the same for years after that.” Lucy looked thoughtful.

“Oh. That's awful, I'm sorry Lucy.” 

“Ahh doesn't matter. I doubt I would’ve made it.” Lucy shrugged. 

“Lucy! Ona! Come down, I’ve got the baby album out!” Lucy's mum shouted from downstairs.

The older brunette's eyes closed in frustration. 

“Coming!” Ona smiled wickedly at Lucy. She grabbed Lucy's hand pulling her out the room. “I can’t wait for this.” 

Even though Lucy was just a shade lighter than a tomato she didn't hate the feeling of Ona’s hand in hers. 

—----

“Oh and that’s Lucy on her 5th birthday. It was a football party, of course.”  Lucy’s mum pointed and smiled at the younger Lucy.

“And here’s Lucy having a bath. I’ll tell you what Ona that girl could never keep her clothes on. I’d have to keep an eye on her constantly. She always wanted to be in the nude.” Lucy's mum laughed.

“Mum!” Lucy was a beetroot colour now.

“What? Don’t be embarrassed, you were only a baby.” 

Ona couldn't hold back the laugh as Lucy's mum nudged her arm, laughing with her.

“Okay! I need a drink. Ona? Drink?” Lucy stood up.

“Good idea Lucy, bring the bottle in.” Lucy’s mum said without turning around.

Lucy shook her head, but couldn’t help but smile when she saw Ona getting on with her mum. 

The day went quick. Lucy hardly got to speak to Ona as she was pulled from pillar to post from each family member, even her dad joined in on the fun. The girl had slotted into the family so easily, she got on with everyone, it made Lucy feel at ease. Once Rudy was put to bed Lucy and Ona helped with putting the Christmas presents under the tree. 

That's when Lucy felt the warm skin of Ona’s little finger wrapping around her own. She looked up to see big brown eyes on hers, and a slightly tired smile on her face. Lucy didn't have to say anything, she could read Ona’s face. 

“Mum, we’re heading up.” 

“Okay. We’ll be up in a bit. Lucy, make sure to be a good host and give Ona anything she needs.”

Keven couldn't hold in his laugh on the other side of the room, his wife hitting him quickly. Lucy shot daggers at her immature brother. The girls said their good nights and made their way upstairs. Lucy closed the door behind her as they entered her room.

“You okay?” 

“Sí, sorry I just couldn’t keep my eyes open.” 

“No, that's okay. I’m tired too. I'll grab us towels so we can shower.

—----------

“Okay, so that tap can be a bit temperamental, I’ll put it on for you so you don’t struggle.” 

“Thank you, Luce.” 

They waited in silence for the water to warm up. It was a small bathroom, Lucy could feel Ona right next to her, every so often she could feel her arm accidentally touch her own. She hoped the younger brunette didn’t notice the hairs on her arm stand up or the goosebumps that took over her skin from a simple touch. 

She could feel the Spaniards eyes on her, but she kept her eyes on the running water or anywhere that wasn’t at Ona. She couldn't believe how nervous she felt. Once she was happy with the temperature she left the girl to shower. 

“Okay, that should be good. If you need anything let me know, I’ll be right in. I mean, I w-wont come in obviously. Like, I can…I’ll help with what I can. Without coming in, cos you'll be naked.” 

Ona couldn't hold back the smirk on her face. This may have been the first time she had seen Lucy shy, or tongue tied. Was it cute? Yes! Did she almost reach up to kiss her to stop her stuttering? Almost.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call if I need you.” Ona smiled playfully.

The older brunette chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of her neck. God, what's wrong with you?

“Right. Good. Let me get out of your way.”

Lucy squeezed by Ona, apologising as her body pressed against hers as she did. She was so close she could smell Ona’s shampoo. The coconut one, the one she liked. 

“Thank you Luce.” 

Lucy let out a deep sigh. She didn't regret asking Ona to come here for Christmas but she didn't realise how hard it was going to be. She wanted the girl. Badly. And having her here was only increasing her feelings. Seeing how easily she slotted in with her family increased it. Singing stupid Christmas songs in the 4 hour car journey increased it. Just having Ona by her side increased it. 

Lucy scrolled on her phone sitting on her bed as she waited for Ona to finish in the shower. When the bathroom door opened she nearly forgot how to breathe. She may have pictured Ona like this a few times. No, a lot of times. But this was the real thing, now she was actually in front of her. She came out in her towel, water droplets dripped down her milky skin. The baby hair on the back of her neck curled from the heat of the shower. Her freckled cheeks flushed a hot pink from the heat. Fuck. This was going to be difficult.

“Done. Thank you.” Ona smiled sitting down on the other side of the bed. 

Lucy swallowed on her dry throat. “Great, erm….Yeah, okay.” 

She kept her eyes down as she made her way to the bathroom. She undressed and got in the shower. She closed her eyes and let out another deep sigh as the hot water ran down her skin. She tried to rid herself of her dirty thoughts, but she couldn't stop the images of a naked Ona in her room. She tried to push them away but it only got worse when the memory of Ona underneath her rushed into her thoughts.

She could feel the start of a small throbbing sensation between her legs. Her hand started to creep down her stomach as she remembered the way Ona panted and thrusted beneath her. The way Ona’s brown eyes looked up at her as she bit her lip, the moans the girl let out as she squirmed underneath her. Before Lucy realised what she was doing her hand was between her legs touching her clit. 

It wasn't the first time she had thought about Ona like this, she was a regular occurrence in Lucy's late night fantasies. But she couldn't do this now, not with Ona right next door, it felt wrong, seedy almost. She moved her hand away, but not without noticing the shiny essence on her finger tips. 

This was going to be a long two nights. 

Lucy let out another sigh. In her rush to the bathroom she had left her pyjamas on the bed. She was going to have to change in front of Ona. Fuck sake. She opened the door to see Ona already tucked up in bed. Her long hair was down, like that night at the bar. Her sleepy eyes caught Lucy, sending her a cute smile. But that cute smile dropped quickly when her dark eyes roamed the older brunette's wet body.

Just like Lucy, Ona had pictured very similar situations with the girl in front of her half naked. But in her dirty thoughts she was fully naked. And just like Lucy, Ona had the older brunette constantly on her mind whenever she had her hand between her legs. Picturing the older girl in many different situations. She was doing it right now, even with Lucy in front of her, she couldn't help it. It wasn't until she heard Lucy's voice that she was brought out of her dirty day dream.

“Ona? Do you mind if I change?” Lucy asked. 

“Huh? Sorry, what?” Ona didn’t realise she was staring.

Lucy couldn't stop the smile. A knowing smile. “I’m just going to change. Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I won't look. I promise.” She let out a small nervous chuckle. “I’m on my phone.” Ona quickly glanced back at her phone, wanting to give her host some privacy. She did a good job at first, scrolling aimsley on her insta feed. She was concentrating hard to not let her eyes go any further, though she may have glanced up once or twice at the girl. 

Lucy wasn’t facing her, Ona could only see her back, her very muscular back. She looked at her phone, trying her best to not creep on her friend. But her eyes glanced up once more. Lucy had bottoms on already. She was just in time to see the older brunette putting her shirt over her head, catching her firm stomach as she turned back to Ona. She darted her eyes down quickly but of course Lucy caught her. 

Lucy slotted into the space next to Ona. The room suddenly felt like it had no air. 

“So, how has today been?” Lucy wanted to try and pop the hot bubble that was making her sweat. 

Ona looked up from her phone, she didn't even release, she was just looking at the weather app now, too focused on trying to regulate her breathing. 

“Amazing! Your family are so sweet. I’ve already had so much fun. I-I can't thank you enough, Lucy. It means a lot to me that you have welcomed me to celebrate with your family.”

“You’re more than welcome. They love you, you know? They weren't even this nice to any of my exes.” Lucy chuckled, until she realised how weird that sounded. Why was she putting Ona in the same sentence as her exes? Maybe because the next time she saw her family with Ona she wanted her to be more than her friend.

Ona smiled shyly, she didn't miss what Lucy said, but she didn't take it to heart. Clearly  Lucy didn't mean anything by it, she was just comparing. Yeah, it was a bit weird to be compared to her past lovers but Ona would just ignore the nervous feeling in her stomach at the thought of her family liking her more then her actual girlfriends. 

Lucy quickly changed the subject, asking Ona what Christmas was like back in Spain. The younger girl was more than happy to give Lucy a small history lesson on the traditions back home. It wasn't until Ona started to yawn that Lucy decided to call it a night. 

“Right you, let's get you to sleep. Got a big day tomorrow.” Lucy teased.

Ona rolled her eyes at the older girl, smiling as she tucked herself into the covers. Lucy rolled over and turned off the side light, immersing the pair into darkness. She made herself comfortable, as comfortable as she could. She could still feel the slight throbbing between her legs. Having Ona inches next to her did not help, especially when she felt the girl's hand glide up stomach as she moved around next to her. 

Her breath hitched in her throat as her body tensed up.

“Sorry.” Ona whispered.

“It's okay. If you wanted to cop a feel you could have just asked.” Lucy giggled.

“Idiota.” Ona chuckled back.

Half an hour later Ona was fast asleep, but the same couldn't be said for Lucy, she found herself staring at the ceiling, listening to Ona’s steady breathing. She tried to close her eyes and relax but her mind was on overdrive. 

She was thinking of all the ways she could tell Ona. Tell her the truth about why she was such a dick before. Tell her how much it killed her to not talk to her, why she ignored her texts, declined the lunches with her. Explain why she became so cold. Come clean about how Ona was the first and last thing that she thought about everyday since laying eyes on her. 

After an hour of her brain screaming at her, Lucy started to drift to sleep. But as soon as her mind started to calm it was woken back up. The shorter girl beside her shuffled in her sleep, capturing one of Lucy's thighs between her own. And even with the fabric as a barrier, Lucy instantly felt the unmistakable wetness that started to dampen through onto her own skin. 

And if that wasn't enough to send her brain into a complete overdrive, the girl ever so slightly began to grind her hips into Lucy's thigh. The smallest of whimpers escaped the Spaniard's lips as she unknowingly used Lucy's body for her own pleasure. The girl was clearly having a sex dream. Next to Lucy. In Lucy’s bed. And she could fucking feel it. 

“Fuck.” Lucy breathed out. 

Was this really happening? Should she wake the girl? No! She’d be mortified. Maybe if she tried to move her leg? But as soon as she did, Ona only got closer, pushing herself right up into Lucy. Her face was so close to her, she could still smell the mint from her toothpaste. Ona whimpered again, clearly finding a sweet spot in her new position, Lucy could feel the girl becoming wetter. Her own clit was throbbing.

She needed to put a stop to this, even though she really didn't mind Ona using her as her own sex toy. Just as she was about to fully move from Ona, she heard her own name being moaned. 

“Lucy.” Ona whispered. 

Lucy’s whole body stiffened. Was she hearing that right? Ona was saying her name? She was dreaming about Lucy. Her name was being moaned into her ear by the girl she was already wet over. Onas hips picked up a faster paste, her small moans making Lucy's skin heat up. She felt dizzy, she bit her lip trying to hold in her own groan. Ona’s wet fabric was sliding up her thigh, she could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs. 

Just as she was about to stop the shorter girl, she felt her body stiffen. She didn't make a sound. She held her breath. Ona let out a tiny sigh and her body relaxed again. Snuggling her face into Lucy’s shoulder. 

The older brunette couldn’t move. She swallowed the spit in her mouth like she was out of breath, how did that just happen? She couldn’t believe Ona had just used her to get off. Well, in her sleep. How did that just happen? Lucy was sweating, she could feel her clit crying to be touched. But she couldn't, and she wouldn't. She would have to wait until she got back home. 

Even though she didn’t want to move from Ona’s grip, she needed to get to the toilet. She removed herself from the girl and from the sheets, Ona was in an ignorance of bliss, sleeping soundly. Lucy went to the toilet, wiping away any of own essence. She couldn’t stop the smile when she saw the damp spot on her trousers from the girl in the other room. She splashed some cold water onto her face to try and calm herself down.

Lucy made her way back into bed, trying her best not to wake the girl next to her. She could still feel the heat between her own legs, ignoring as best as she could. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

—------------

Ona was confused when she awoke, this wasn't her bed. Then the feeling of hot air on her neck tickled her, causing her to shiver. That's when she remembered she was at Lucys. She didn't realise a strong arm was wrapped around her body until it pulled her effortlessly closer, she could feel the warm body pressed up against her back, the strong arm locking her in. Lucy was holding her like she was her own teddy bear, their bodies pressed up against each other like lovers.

Ona was fully awake now, she could hear Lucy's shallow breathing, she was still asleep. Lucy's core was pressed right up against Onas’s arse, she could feel the heat coming from between the girls legs. It reminded her of her own dream last night, maybe she was still dreaming?

She couldn't stop the silent gasp as she felt Lucy pull her impossibly closer. She bit her lip, loving the feeling of the strong girl against her body. 

Did she do the responsible thing and move away from her friend? No. She gently counted her hips backwards, pushing her arse into Lucy, loving the way the older brunette's breath hitched in her sleep. Lucy nuzzled closer to her neck, her lips gently brushed the Spaniard's neck. Ona closed her eyes as she felt Lucy’s soft lips against her skin, she could feel her own body heating up, her nipples straining against her top.

That's when Lucy's phone alarm went off. Ona closed her eyes, pretending to still be asleep. She knew Lucys was probably going to freak out when she saw the position they were in. And like clock work she felt Lucy's body stiffen, she was clearly awake. Did it break Ona’s heart just slightly? Of course. But she couldn't feel like that for long, not when she felt Lucy's soft lips press a light kiss to her neck. 

She must still be dreaming. Did that just happen? Did Lucy just kiss her? Why? Why did she kiss her? What did that mean? She felt Lucy move away, her body suddenly felt cold. She then felt Lucy pat her back. 

“Ona. Wake up. It's Christmas!” 

Hearing Lucy's morning voice did something to Ona’s insides. Her accent sounded even thicker. If she didn't know the girl so well she’d probably find it hard to understand her morning mumbles.

Ona pretended to wake, she smiled and stretched her body. “Bon dia.” She turned around to face a very sleepy, cute looking Lucy. “Merry Christmas.” Ona yawned.

Lucy smiled and stretched. “How did you sleep?” She knew how the girl slept, but she wasn't about to reveal that.

“Good, thank you. You?” 

“Not too bad. You didn't take up too much room, so I can’t complain.” She smirked.

“I don’t get many complaints when sharing a bed with another woman.” Ona giggled. 

Lucy laughed out loud. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

This was a whole other layer being added to their relationship. It felt almost like how they were before, tip toeing on a fine line of friendship and flirting, the undertones of wanting each other was becoming more apparent. 

“It smells like breakfast is on.” Lucy stretched.

“Hmm, I can't wait.”

“Remember don’t force yourself to eat things, if you don't want anything just say so. My mums a feeder.” Lucy warned.

“Good thing I'm an eater.” Ona winked. 

Lucy chuckled. “Okay, you ready?” Lucy sat up.

“Sí, but can I give you your present now?”

Lucy’s face broke into a huge smile. “You got me a present?”

“Of course.” 

“I got you one too. I wasn't sure when to give it to you.” 

Now it was Ona’s turn to smile. She watched as Lucy got out the bed and made her way to her bag, Ona copied her movements, moving over to her own bag. Ona would be lying if she didn't say she was extremely excited that Lucy got her a present. She of course had a small slither of hope that she would, but she didn't actually think she would. She pulled out the gold box from her bag, hoping she got Lucy something she actually liked. 

Ona pulled out the neatly wrapped green and red papered package, with a red envelope on top. She smiled as she saw Lucy looking a little nervous on the other side of the room, she was holding a small gold wrapped box. 

“Merry Christmas, Lucy.” She stepped forward..

“Merry Christmas, Ona.” Lucy nervously smiled.

They exchanged their gifts. Ona opened the small golden box to find a blue jewellery box encased, she smiled as Lucy watched her. She gently opened the box to find a gold necklace with a gold smiley face attached to the chain. Ona’s eyes lit as eyed the gold chain, she couldn't stop her own smile on her face. She loved it. She looked up to see Lucy's nervous face.

“Lucy, I love it! Thank you so much!”

“Yeah? You sure? If you dont its okay.”

“What? No, I love it! Can you put it on me?” 

Lucy gave Ona a toothy smile. “Turn around.” 

Ona pushed her hair to the side to give Lucy space. She felt as Lucy's fingers skimmed her skin, making her shiver. Lucy didn't miss the way the younger girl's skin prickled with goosebumps from her touch. It brought back scenes from last night, making her own heart race, she tried to calm herself before her cheeks turned red.

Ona turned around, the gold chain shining on her neck.

“It suits you.” Lucy ran her eyes over the chain.

“Thank you. It's perfect.”

Ona noticed Lucy's face looked a little flush. “Open yours.”

Lucy opened the envelope first, it was a christmas card with a piece of paper inside. She skimmed her eyes over the writing, her eyes widened in surprise. She read it out loud. 

“The Big London Bake. You and your guest will have a day of eating, baking and of course a day of fun.” She licked her lips as she smiled back at Ona. “I have wanted to do this for the longest time! I can’t believe it, how did you know? How did you get tickets? They're always booked up.” 

“I know you like baking, and I have a friend who knows a friend.” Ona winked playfully.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am! Thank you so much! When do you wanna go?” 

“You don't have to bring me, I-,” 

Lucy cut her off. “There is no way I’m taking anyone else. Of course you’re coming.”

Ona looked at her feet as she smiled. “Open your other present.”

Lucy tore open the paper, smiling as soon as she saw it. It was a picture frame with a picture of Ona and Lucy laughing on stage at the karaoke bar. 

“I still don’t know why we’re doing this job and not forming a band.” Lucy chuckled. “I love it. Thank you, Ona.” 

The younger brunette giggled as she looked at the picture. Their relationship was definitely blurring now. Both girls could feel it. Feelings were growing, and both girls didn't stop it, they were letting it grow, pushing it to grow. 

—----------

“Merry Christmas girls!” Lucy's mum was cooking pancakes at the oven.

“Merry christmas!” The pair said in sync.

“Can I help with anything?” Ona walked over to Lucys mum.

“No my darling, you’re our guest. But thank you. You have a seat. Are you hungry? I’ve got lots to choose from. Lucy get Ona a tea, or is it coffee you like dear? Lucy put the kettle on.”

Lucy rolled her eyes at her mum. Ona giggled at their relationship, it was a typical mum and daughter relationship. She smiled as she watched Lucy's mum grab her cheek and lovingly smile at her daughter as she put the kettle on. 

“Ona my darling do you like pancakes?”

“I do.” 

“With chocolate chips?”

“Even better.” 

“Perfect. Got a fresh batch for you now. Do you like orange juice?” Lucy's mum brought the fresh batch of warm chocolate chip pancakes over to Ona. 

“Thank you so much. This looks amazing!” 

Lucy's mum smiled as she squeezed Ona’s shoulder in that mum type way. It was something she didn't realise she had missed so much. Lucy brought over a coffee for Ona, not needing to ask what she wanted, she knew that was her morning drink. 

“Where's Kevin? And dad?” Lucy asked as she sat down. Her mum placed a stack of pancakes in front of Lucy. 

“They all went for a walk. Rudy was up early, bouncing off the walls.” Her mum chuckled. 

The three chatted as they had their morning breakfast. Once they were done the girls had a shower and changed into their clothes. 

“Girls you ready? We have a very impatient 6 year old down here.”

“Okay, show time you ready?” Lucy smiled.

“Sí.” Ona smiled.

They made their way downstairs to open presents. That’s when Ona noticed the large Santa sacks under the tree that definitely weren't there last night. They had large gold initials stitched onto the red fabric. One had an L, a K, an M for Kevin's wife Molly, and then she spotted the sack with an O. She stopped in her tracks, Lucy bumping into her from behind. She felt her hand on her shoulder. 

“You okay?” Lucy looked concerned.

“Ah yeah, sorry.” 

“Come.” Lucy took Ona’s hand in hers and sat them down.

“Ona!” Rudy ran over to the Spanird a present in her hand. 

“Ona this is from me. Open it.” the mini version of Lucy demanded.

“Oh my. Thank you. Is it not from santa?” Ona chuckled.

“Not this one.” Rudy smiled cheekily.

“Oh, okay.” Ona smiled at Lucy as she opened the present.

It was a mug with ‘Top copper’ on it. 

Ona laughed. “I love it! Thank you so much, Rudy.” She opened her arms for the girl. Rudy jumped on her lap and tucked herself into the Spaniard's neck. Lucy grabbed her phone and quickly took a picture of the pair.  Rudey jumped off the girl and ran back over to her mum and dad, ready to open her presents. 

“Okay, present time.” Lucy’s mum passed over Ona and Lucy the heavy sacks.

“Th-thank you. You didn't have t-,”

Lucy's mum was quick to stop her. “No, I don't want to hear any of that.” She grabbed her cheek like she did Lucys and gave her a kiss on her head.

Ona couldn't believe it, she wasn't expecting any kind of gift from anyone, let alone a whole sack. She looked over at Lucy who was smiling at her, gesturing for her to open her sack. She untied the knot to find loads of wrapped up presents. She felt overwhelmed. She hadn't had anything like this before, not since she was a child. She reached in and began to open her presents alongside Lucy.

The list of items was long. She had opened a perfume set, face masks, nail varnish set, a baking cookbook, a candle, pjs set, a hot water bottle with an O stitched in, a hot chocolate set, a bath bomb set, bath soak, hand cream, chocolates, woolly socks, a £30.00 gift card, lip gloss and a beautiful brown leather notebook. Ona could feel the tears in her eyes. She quickly stood up and excused herself. 

Lucy and her mum looked at each other with worry. The older brunette quickly followed Ona out of the room to find her in the kitchen at the sink, a small tear was rolling down her face. 

“Hey, you okay? What's wrong?” Lucy stroked Ona’s arm.

“I’m so sorry. Nothing is wrong, it's just. Your family have been so nice to me. It's overwhelming. They have spoilt me.” She chuckled threw a tear. 

Lucy smiled, she rubbed the girl's arm and pulled her in for a hug, she understood. She knew Ona hadn't been with her own family in so long let alone for Christmas, she knew this holiday was difficult in many ways for the younger girl. Ona loved it, but it also brought weird feelings for her. She held the girl tight, rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Hey, It's okay, Ona. It can be a lot. It's a hard day for you. Don't apologise. I know my mum definitely goes over the top aswell.” She wiped away a tear from Ona’s cheek.

“Thank you, Luce. It's very generous, I just wasn't expecting it.” She looked up, Ona could feel her heart beating, Lucy's face was suddenly so close to hers, looking in her eyes so deeply. Like she was trying to read her mind, her green eyes searched her face, landing on her mouth. Ona stopped breathing. 

“Is Ona okay?” Lucy's mum walked into the kitchen.

Lucy took a step back from Ona, hearing her mum’s voice.

“Sí, I am. Sorry, I am just so happy. You’ve been so kind to me.” Ona smiled.

“Oh my darling!” Lucy's mum scooped Ona up in a hug, squeezing the girl tightly to her chest. “I’m glad their happy tears. I’m sorry if it was too much.” She stroked Ona’s cheek. 

“No, no! Not at all. You’ve been so welcoming. It’s so nice. Thank you so much for my gifts.” 

Lucy's mum smiled lovingly at her. “You’re welcome Ona. We’ve loved having you here. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Ona smiled, she had missed this. A mothers love. 

“Do you want tea, Ona?” Lucy asked. 

Ona nodded. “Thank you, Luce.” 

“Tea then we drink.” Lucy's mum winked.

Ona and Lucy chuckled, agreeing on the plan. 

The rest of Christmas day went perfectly. Everyone loved the presents Ona had got them. Christmas dinner was served and everything was cooked to perfection. Ona had sat next to Lucy, every so often their arms would brush but neither girl said anything. They all sat down to watch ‘The Grinch’. Ona would catch those familiar green eyes on her every half an hour, smiling at her everytime she caught her. She wondered if Lucy even watched the film.

Then the board games came out. Ona got to see first hand just how competitive Lucy was, it made her cry with laughter watching the older brunette and her brother argue over the games. Ona, Lucy and Rudy played football in the garden, Lucy's brother also joined in, and ended up in a headlock.

As it came closer to the evening a few neighbours came by for drinks, the music was blaring and everyone was having a good time. Ona found herself being spun around by one of Lucy's neighbours, as the group danced away. Ona had found herself staring at Lucy while she danced with Rudy in her arms. It made her heart melt as the pair giggled at something Rudy said. 

“Ona, do you want a drink?” Suddenly Lucy was in front of the Spaniard.

Ona was blushed from the dancing. A huge smile plastered on her face, making Lucy's heart melt. “Please. Thank you.”

Lucy nodded, she made her way to the kitchen in search of more alcohol. She looked in the mini fridge stocked with bottles of drink. She grabbed a bottle and popped the cork, pouring herself and Ona some prosecco.

“So, how long have you loved her?” 

Lucy jumped at the deep voice, she turned around to see her brother Keven standing at the door frame, a playful smile on his face.

“What?” Lucy turned back around to continue pouring.

“Come on, Lucy. Don't play dumb. You can see it a mile away. You can practically see the heart shape in your eyes. Even the way Ona looks at you.”

“Leave it out Kevin.”

He stepped next to his sister, leaning on the kitchen side, a serious face now sat on his features. 

“I’m not trying to wind you up Luce, you seem so much happier, and I can't help but think it's Ona that’s done it.” He smiled at his younger sister.

Lucy scoffed. “Is it that obvious?” 

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” 

The siblings laughed, it was rare for them to have a conversation that didn't end up teasing the other over a game or even what the other was dressed in, it was different, it was nice.

“I hope you're planning on asking her out. Even Molly was asking if she was single. I think she wants your girl.” He winked, making Lucy laugh.

“Yeah, I think I will. I just need the right ti-,” 

“Hey Luce, do you need me?” Ona entered the kitchen with a big smile on her face. 

“Just in time! She does Ona, she needs you.” Kevin smiled as he nudged his sister, Lucy gave her brother daggers but in truth, he wasn’t lying. He chuckled to himself, leaving the two girls alone. 

Ona smiled as she approached Lucy, it was her cute tipsy smile. Lucy had seen it a few times now, it never got any less cute. Lucy turned round, her back to the sink, facing the shorter girl. 

“Are you having a good time?” 

Ona walked up to the taller brunette and took the glass from Lucy's hand, making sure her fingers lingered on hers.

“I am. Your neighbours are fun. They can dance!” Ona giggled.

“Yeah, they do like a good time. Garry's having fun with you.” Lucy chuckled as she drank her drink.

“Hmm, sounds like someone jealous.” Ona chuckled.

“What if I am?”

“You? No, you're not jealous.” Ona teased.

“Well, I haven't had a chance to dance with you yet.”

Ona stepped a little closer to Lucy. Her brown eyes looked up at the taller girl. “You can dance with me.”

“Yeah?” 

“All you have to do is ask. I’d be all yours.” Ona whispered. 

Lucy could feel her body gravitating towards Ona, she couldn't take her eyes off of her lips. Her heart was in her throat. Was this about to finally happen? 

Ona licked her own lips. Her hands were sweating. She had wanted this for so long.

“All mine?” Lucy's words were just above a whisper.

“Sí.” Ona closed her eyes as she was finally about to kiss the girl she loved.

The girls lips were inches apart, months of wanting this exact moment, finally seconds away. Until a roar of laughter came tumbling into the kitchen. Lucy's dad and two other neighbours were completely unaware they had just ruined the moment.

Ona jumped from the commotion, automatically stepping back from their bubble. Lucy closed her eyes in frustration, she could have killed her dad. Ona eyed the brunette a shy smile on her face as she drank her drink. 

“Lucy, Ona! We’re doing shots. Come on, get over here.” Lucy’s dad laughed.

The girls eyed each other, both hungry with lust. It was clear what they both wanted now. Both girls had leaned in, both wanted the kiss, there was no mistaking the heat between them. 

The night got later, everyone continued to dance and drink, including Lucy and Ona, both girls stole glances throughout the night. Lucy wanted nothing more than to take Ona upstairs and have some time with the girl but the house was full. People would look for them within a couple of minutes, she'd have to wait. She just didn't know how long.

—-----------

“Night Garry, night Pauline. I’ll see you next week.” Lucy's mum slurred as she closed the front door, saying her goodbyes to the last guess.

“Okay mum, we're off to bed.” Lucy yawned.

“Okay, sleep well. I think you have a new admirer, Ona. Gary wouldn't leave you alone.” Lucy's mum winked.

Ona chuckled. “I know, I couldn't even keep up with his dancing!”

“He is funny. Alright girls. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Try to keep it quiet. The walls are thin!” Kevin laughed, but his laugh was cut off as his mum slapped him beside the head.

Lucy shut her bedroom door behind her, Ona stumbled in front of her, she was definitely more drunk than Lucy. The older brunette had slowed down her drinking, knowing she had a 4 hour drive home, also Ona was a lightweight when it came to drinking. 

The Spaniard  smiled as she looked over the pictures on the dresser, she hadn't noticed them until now. One in particular caught her eye, if it wasn't for the 90s clothing she would have thought it was Rudy. It was Lucy as a child with a cheeky smile that she still made now, she had her arm around a blonde girl, laughing and pointing at Lucy.  

She casted her eyes over the other pictures, the same blonde girl was in a picture with Lucy but it was years later, similar poses, the blonde laughing and Lucy looking as cheeky as always.

“Whos this?” Ona picked up the picture smiling. 

Lucy walked over, she looked at the picture and felt her heart sink.

“That's Sophie, she was my best friend.”

Ona noticed the sadness in Lucy's voice straight away.

“I’m sorry. Are you no longer friends?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, we never argued. We were friends since we were 4, she moved in a few doors down. Our mums became friends and then we naturally became closer.”

Ona smiled as she listened to Lucy. She continued.

“We did everything together. If I was there, so was she. She even worked with me on the force.” She chuckled. “Sarina made us partners at the same time. We couldn't believe it.” Lucy's eyes became watery. “We were on an early morning raid. Like we had done 100 times before. The house was declared clear. We went inside to collect evidence, but there was a man hiding inside the house. He shot her. She died before the ambulance even arrived.” 

Ona felt her own eyes watering as she watched a single tear fall from Lucy's face. 

“Sorry. Bladdy drink.” Lucy sniffled.

Ona grabbed Lucy in a hug like she had done for the smaller girl before. 

“I’m so sorry Lucy.” She rubbed the taller girls back soothingly. 

“Thank you.” 

The girls spoke about Lucy and Sophie and the antics they got into when they were young. The holidays they had been on, the night clubs they had been kicked out of. Ona couldn't stop the smile on her face, it was like learning a whole new side of Lucy. The older brunette's face lit up talking about her memories with her childhood best friend. It broke Ona’s heart that Lucy had been holding this all in, all the pain she had been through. 

The girls had found themselves laying on the bed, both their eyes slowly closing as they spoke. It was Onas eyes that closed first, mumbling about something Lucy couldn't really understand.

“Okay, let's get to bed.”

Ona groaned like a child “Can you get my clothes?”

Lucy playful rolled her eyes, a drunk Ona was a very cute Ona. She grabbed the girl's pj from her bag and threw them towards Ona. 

“Here you go.”  She chuckled as Ona groaned again.

Lucy looked in her own bag for her pjs. She couldn't help but feel a lot lighter, she hadn't talked about some of those memories since she had lost her best friend. It had been hard for the girl to talk about Sophie over the years, it was hard for her to find the strength to talk about her. But for some reason she felt completely comfortable talking to Ona about her, about their memories, about the bad days and the good days.

Lucy turned around to find Ona half dressed, her bottoms were on but her bed top was wrapped around arms.

“You okay there?” 

Ona flopped on the bed, her t-shirt trapping her arms. 

“Help me.”

Lucy chuckled, she walked over to the younger brunette, she helped her pull her shirt down, over her toned stomach. 

“Thank you Luce.” Ona crawled up to the top of the bed, snuggling herself beneath the covers. Lucy quickly changed, feeling sleep take over her own body. She finally climbed into the bed next to Ona. Turning off the light.

“You have soft lips.” Ona mumbled.

“What?” Lucy chuckled.

“I felt you kiss me in the morning, on my neck. You have soft lips.” 

“Oh…I’m sor-,” Lucy stuttered. 

“It's okay. I really liked it.” Ona whispered.

“So did I.”

“I just wish it was my lips.” 

Lucy smiled shyly, her heart fluttered. When she kissed Ona this morning she didn't do it in a sexual or seedy way. She had woken to Ona pushing herself into her. Her lips were already on Ona when she woke up. So when she woke she didn't think twice, she pressed her lips to her milky skin. 

"I wanna kiss you, Luce."

Lucy wanted to but Ona was drunk, she didn't want their first kiss like this.

“I want to so badly, but maybe when we’re not drunk? Ask me again when you're sober?"

Ona smiled. "Okay, I'll ask again."

It only took a minute before Ona was snoring.

The next morning Ona woke up to an empty bed, she then heard what sounded like the shower running. She was pleasantly surprised she wasn't as hungover as she would have thought, just a small headache, but nothing more. The bathroom door opened to a fresh face looking Lucy.

“Morning sleepy head.” Lucy smiled.

“Morning.” Ona stretched.

“How you feeling?” Lucy started to brush out her wet hair.

“Not too bad, you?”

“A little headache but nothing a full english and paracetamol can't handle.”

“Yes! I love the English breakfast!” Ona kicked her feet excitedly.

“Good, my mum goes OTT, so hopefully you’ll enjoy it.” 

“Can I shower before we go down?” Ona climbed out of the bed.

“Of course. I put a fresh towel in there for you.”

The girls got ready for breakfast, and like Lucy promised, her mum had gone in on the food, she had cooked the works and more. She placed a full English breakfast in front of a very hungry Ona. 

“Thank you!” 

“You let me know if you want anything else, I've got plenty to go.”

The kitchen was a hub of chatter as everyone talked about the night before, laughing at jokes and teasing Ona that she had a new admirer. She couldn't help but still glances at Lucy as they all laughed. The time finally came for the girls to get ready for their drive home. 

Everyone waited at the front door as the girls came to the door.

Lucys mum opened her arms out grabbing Ona in a hug, while Lucy hugged her dad.

“Oh Ona, thank you so much for spending Christmas with us. You are welcome anytime, I hope you know that.” 

Ona hugged back as much as she physically could. “Thank you so much. This has been one of the best Christmases I've ever had. You made me feel so special. Thank you.”

Lucy's dad hugged his daughter tightly. “She's a good one. Do something about it.” 

Lucy smiled, even her dad could see right through her. She hugged him tighter. 

“Make sure to drive slow. Don't go faster than you need to, stay in the slow lane.” Her mum warned.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, Been driving for 10 plus years now.” 

Rudy grabbed Ona’s legs. “Bye Ona.” 

Ona knelt down and hugged the mini Lucy. “Goodbye Rudy. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye pip squeak.” Lucy held her arms open for Rudy. The little girl giggled as she flung herself into Lucy.

The girls said their goodbyes to everyone, and got in Lucy's car. 

There had been a thick buzz between the girls since the morning. Their chat last night wasn't forgotten between the pair, but neither had said anything about it. But they didn't need to, they both knew what they wanted. It was just a 4 hour drive away. 

Finally they pulled up to Ona’s flat, helping her Ona with her bags. Lucy followed Ona into her flat, she smiled as she looked around the new space.

“You’ve got a nice place here.” Lucy lowered the bags. 

The shorter brunette walked up to Lucy. “Do you wanna see my bedroom?” 

“More than anything.” Lucy whispered. She cupped Ona’s face into her hands, she lowered herself to Ona’s lips, the lips she had wanted to kiss for months. 

Finally, their lips met. It was soft and sweet. There was no rushing, no pushing, just their lips exploring the other. Even though they had waited so long for this, they didn't want to rush. Both girls were finally getting what they had wanted for the longest time, they wanted to make the first kiss last.

But as soon as Lucy slipped her tongue into the mix and made Ona whimper, all the above went out the window. She couldn't hold back any longer. Lucy’s tilted Ona’s head back just a fraction, pushing the girl for a deeper kiss. Ona whimpered again, letting Lucy take full control of their movements. The kisses started to become messy and loud, the girls were clearly hungry for each other. The months, weeks, days of wanting, were finally here. 

“Where’s your room?” 

“First door on the left.”

The taller girl grabbed Ona by the waist lifting her up. Ona giggled as she wrapped her legs around Lucy’s waist, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this exact moment for a long time. 

Lucy carried the shorter girl to the bedroom, never letting their lips come apart. She walked into the open bedroom and gently lowered Ona on the bed below, laying her body on the girl beneath her. Her lips attacked Ona’s neck, sucking and kissing at the soft skin. 

“Fuck, Lucy.” Ona gasped. 

Lucy smirked proudly hearing Ona moan her name. She continued her actions, leaving small red marks everywhere her mouth touched, loving the noises she was pulling from Ona. She couldn't stop her hips from grinding into the girl, her desperate moans making Lucys pussy throb. She finally pulled back. 

“Can I take this off?” She pulled the bottom of Ona’s top.

“Yes, take it off. All of it.” She panted as she sat up.

Lucy nodded. She removed Ona’s top, then her bra, revealing her beautiful breast. She couldn't stop herself from kissing the girl's stomach. She watched as Ona’s tight abs flexed, feeling Lucy's mouth on her skin. She continued to kiss down Ona’s stomach as she popped open the girl's jeans. She quickly undone her zip and began to pull down the clothing. She looked at the girl below her, taking in her beautiful body. Her gold necklace stood out against her milky skin. 

“You too.” Ona pulled at Lucy’s top.

Lucy smiled at the girl below her, she did as the Spaniard asked and removed her clothing. Ona stared at the girl standing above her, Lucy's body was unreal, her muscular arms flexed as she pulled her clothing off. She was truly stunning. Ona sat up, she attached her mouth to Lucy's stomach, sucking on her tight skin as she undone her jeans, wanting to move this along.

Ona spotted the wet patch seeping through the fabric between Lucy's legs, smiling playfully as she eyed the older brunette. 

“Can I take these off?”

Lucy looked down at the girl, her bright brown eyes looking up at her with so much lust, so much want. It only added to the wetness pooling in between Lucy's legs.

“Yeah.” She swallowed.

Ona slowly pulled down the fabric, she let out a sigh as she saw the shiny arousal sticking to Lucy's lips. She began to kiss Lucy's thighs, getting closer to the area she wanted most, she could smell how aroused Lucy was, her own wetness dripping between her legs. 

She got closer to the sweet spot, her lips kissed Lucy's wet sensitive lips, jolting as she felt Ona. 

Ona dipped her tongue between Lucy's lips, coating her tongue in the girl's juices. Lucy gasped as her head rolled back. Ona took another long lick hitting Lucy's already swollen clit, groaning as she tasted the girl above. 

Lucy watched as Ona started to lap at her pussy, she gently stroked the younger girl's face, her fingertips brushed at her hair. She softly undid the girl's bun, hair long hair fell down her back. Lucy cradled Ona’s head as she moved her hips, rocking herself into her talented mouth. 

Ona sighed as Lucy ran her fingers through her scalp, making her shiver from the touch. 

“Ona. Your mouth. Fuck, you’re so good.”

Ona let out a low chuckle, making Lucy gasp from the vibration. She continued to lick at Lucy's cunt, swallowing her arousal every couple of minutes. Lucy gripped Ona’s hair, fucking her face gently as the girl pleasured her. She began to pick up the pace of her hips as she felt her orgasm spread up her body.

“I’m going to come.”

Ona groaned, she continued her movements, keeping the pace Lucy needed. Lucy gripped at Ona’s hair, pushing her closer between her legs. Her legs started to shake as she felt the warm sensation rise up from her stomach.

“That's it. Ona, don’t stop. Good girl. That’s soo good.”

As she came she pushed the girl's head closer to her core, needing the girl ever closer to her, her tongue was suckling her clit perfectly. She rode out her orgasm as long as she could. Ona could feel Lucy's orgasm washing over her mouth. Lucy gasped as Ona carried on licking her through the come down, she stroked her hair, allowing the girl to clean her up. She rocked her hips into her mouth for a couple more minutes, feeling Ona’s tongue against her.

“Wow, you’re talented.” Lucy chuckled.

Ona pulled back, her mouth was dripping with Lucy’s fluids. She panted as her cheeks turned a shade of pink from the compliment.

“You taste even better than I imagined.” 

“Have you imagined it a lot?” Lucy whispered. 

Ona nodded, smirking devilishly. “A lot.”

“Fuck.” 

Lucy leaned down, capturing Ona’s lips with her own, she moaned as she tasted herself on the girl. Ona’s cunt was throbbing she whimpered as Lucy began to pull her thongs down. The younger brunette  sighed as she felt the cold air hit her painfully sensitive pussy. Lucy smirked as she threw the ruined thongs over her shoulder. She looked down at Ona’s drenched pussy.

“Is that how wet you get just from making me come? Making me feel so good?” 

Ona bit her lip and nodded, not able to form words. 

“You’re amazing.” 

Lucy dipped her pointer finger between Ona’s velvety folds, groaning at the wetness. Ona jumped at the contact as Lucy just barely touched her. Lucy pushed her finger into her mouth.

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Ona panted below, desperately needing anything Lucy would give to her. Lucy placed her hand back between Ona’s spread legs, stroking her finger through her sensitive flesh. She dipped her finger into Ona’s cunt, her tight muscles flexing around her digit.

“Lucy.” 

“I love when you say my name.” Lucy growled as she began to fuck Ona. 

The younger girl let out soft moans as Lucy picked up the pace, she easily pushed another finger inside her, cutting off Ona’s crys with a deep kiss. 

“Lucy.” Ona was starting to whimper, the older girl closed her eyes, listening to the way the Spaniard moaned her name, her own pussy becoming wet again, just from the sounds of the girl.

Lucy began to kiss down Ona’s body, she sucked in Ona’s nipple, loving the way Ona’s head rolled back. She then moved over to the other side, giving it just as much attention. The girl's small body began to roll, her noises were becoming louder as Lucy’s fingers relentless fucked her.

She moved further down, gliding her tongue over Ona’s abs. The shorter girl squirmed as she felt Lucy's tongue move skirt over her flesh. Lucy began to kiss Ona’s pubic bone, loving the way she moaned. She felt the younger girl's hand thread into her hair, pushing her close to where she clearly wanted her. Lucy smiled as she kissed lower and lower. 

Finally, Lucy wrapped her lips around Ona’s swollen clit, the cry she let out was music to the older girl's ears. The hand in her hair tightened as she worked the girl's body, her fingers picked up a faster pace, causing Ona’s back to curve. Her vision began to blur as Lucy kept up the beautiful pleasure on her body. 

“Lucy!”

Lucy only hummed, not wanting to stop, she could feel Ona was getting close, her legs began to shake as her cunt tightened on her fingers, squeezing them tightly. Ona couldn't believe the way Lucy was pushing her body, she could feel her head becoming dizzy, she scrunched her eyes shut she felt the warm sensation prickle her skin.

“Merda! Lucyyyy!”

The hands pushed her further into her cunt, guiding her head up and down, Lucy loved the way Ona was controlling her movements to do what she wanted. Then she felt it before she heard it. Ona became silent, her body went rigid, but Lucy didn’t stop, she suckled and fucked Ona until she pushed her over that edge. 

“Lu-Lu….Lucyyyyyy!” 

Ona came, loud and hard. Her thighs clamped around Lucy's head as she rode out her orgasm. Her hips thrusted into Lucy's mouth as she felt her legs start to give in, panting loudly as Lucy kept up her movements. Finally the girl's body went limp, her chest was panting fast as she tried to catch her breath. 

Lucy slowly took her fingers out of Ona. She couldn't stop the smile on her face seeing the girl benather her looking completely wrecked.

“You okay?” 

“Lucy. Merda. Fuck.”

Lucy laid next to the girl laughing at her gapping face. 

She couldn't help but kiss the girl, she could definitely get used to this site. 

The girls laid with each other for another hour talking about the last couple of months.

“So when I saw you dance with her I just lost it. It was so selfish of me. I regret it so much.” Lucy stroked Ona’s back as she explained herself. 

Ona listened, she didn't hold any grudges, she would have probably done what Lucy did, maybe not as cold, but they were different people. They handled things differently. 

“When I saw you on the bridge, it made me realise just how stupid I was being. I needed to sort it out even if you didn't want me like that. I at least wanted you as a friend.”

Ona smiled as she kissed Lucy, she couldn't believe they had wanted each other for so long, and not see it as clear as everyone around them. The girls were in bliss, finally they got what they wanted. They spent the next couple of days of the Christmas break with each other, learning everything they could about the other. 

Learning everything they could about each other's bodies, what she liked, what she didn't like. What she sounded like after 3 orgasms in a row. How Ona liked her hair pulled when she fucked Lucy with her fingers. How Lucy liked to watch Ona when she rode her with a strap. And so much more.

 Everything was perfect. 

But the short Christmas break ended and work came, so the girls decided to spend a night apart. Even though it killed them to do it, they knew they needed to have at least a day apart, they would see each other the next morning when Lucy picked up Ona for work.

Lucy stood at Ona’s door. Kissing the shorter girl deeply, holding her body next to hers. 

“I’ll miss you.” Ona whispered.

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll call you when I get in?”

Ona nodded, she looked up at Lucy giving her those big brown doe eyes. Making it so much harder for Lucy to leave. 

“Onaaaa. Don’t”

The shorter girl giggled. “Sorry. Go, call me when you get in.” 

—------- 

Lucy yawned as she drove to pick up Ona. The girls had spoken late into the night, not going to bed till late. But Lucy had a new spring in her step, she felt so happy. She finally got the girl that she loved, yeah loved. It was the start of love, both girls felt it, neither saying anything as this was new, but they both felt it. 

She was surprised when she didn't see Ona sitting at her usual spot on the wall. She had never been late. Maybe she slept in from their late night call. She pulled up the car like she normally did. Maybe she was in a queue at the coffee shop? Lucy sat there for a moment, she texted Ona to say she was outside, but didn't get a text back. Lucy eyed up Ona’s building, something didn't feel right .

She got out of the car and walked to the wall where Ona sat, that's when she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She spotted two coffee cups spilt on the floor. It was the coffee shop where Ona got their drinks. She felt the blood drain from her face. Where was Ona?

[witchygirlgray333]

Some journal prompts I like (writing and creative) :

I’m going to do a separate list for some chronic illness journal ideas bc I’ve found it’s so helpful!

Write out the lyrics to your favourite song and/or do a drawing / painting / collage of your interpretation of the song

Books you want to read

Films you want to watch

Diary entry about your day

Bujo style - plan out your week or month

Pressed flowers

Scripting (manifestation)

Vision board (manifestation)

Notes on a topic you’re learning about (for example I like to watch lots of nature or history documentaries and sometimes I make notes on them in my journal or if it’s witchy stuff I write it in my grimoire)

Letter to past you / future you / someone in your life (remember they don’t have to read it, this has helped me so much in certain situations so I can get out whatever I want to say without upsetting people) / someone you love who has passed on / the god or deity you worship if you worship one / to your future children / future partner

Wishlist

Ideas for things (like stories you want to write, photo shoots, fashion, films, art etc)

Poetry (either that you’ve written or that someone else has written that you like)

Get to know me page so if you want to look back on your journal in the future you can see what you were like then

Films you’ve watched / books you’ve read / favourite songs from the past month

Positive affirmations

Shadow work

Sticker / photo dump

Recipes

Go sit in nature and draw or write about what you see or feel when you’re there

Draw out your alter ego

Stick in scraps from throughout your day (such as receipts, labels from things, stickers, pictures etc)

Book reviews

To do lists

Design your dream room

Your childhood (draw or write about childhood memories, hobbies, things you used to collect, stick in childhood photos, the toys you used to play with etc)

Travel bucket list

Life bucket list

Family tree

Write a list of things that make you happy

Stream of consciousness

Write about your dreams and what you think they might mean

Brain dump (I sometimes do this before I go to sleep if somethings going on)

Doodle page

Stick in notes your loved ones have written to you

List of favourite quotes

Self care ideas

List of songs / playlist

Goals in life / 5 year plan

Plan a day out or a holiday

Plan content you want to make for social media

Tattoos you want to get

Things that make you happy

Outfit ideas

Hobbies you currently have

Hobbies you want to try

List of things you collect

Yoga / exercise routine

Seasonal bucket lists

Things you want to learn or research

Mood tracker

Stick in any colouring pages you’ve done

Daily skincare routine

List of Studio Ghibli films and tick off the ones you’ve watched

List of your favourite things

List of things to do when you’re bored

If you normally write about your day, draw pictures of all the things you did instead of writing (a bit like in a comic book)

Advice people have given you that has been really helpful

Ideal morning / night routine

Notes from therapy / hospital appointments

Page of all your cinema tickets

List of people that inspire you

Angel numbers

Crystals and their meanings

Your favourite artists

Worry tree

Favourite memories

Write your dream wardrobe

Reasons to stay alive

Stick in photos and write a bit about them

Names you like

Favourite words

Write about an event (a description of what happened, how it left you feeling, who was there and what they said and did, what you wish had happened instead, the reasons why you find it hard to let go, steps you could take to start to move on)

Notes on a language you’re learning

Collage about a film you’ve recently watched

Glow up check list

Write about a tarot reading you did

What does heaven and hell mean to you

Flip through a magazine and do a collage of pictures from it

[salty-croissants]

what do Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon like to do when they're cuddling with the reader? 😊

Thank you for the request ! 

It’s like , very late for me right now … but I got a burst of inspiration as soon as I read what the request was about : this is something that I’m always happy to write … just wholesome affection between the reader and the boys , love this prompt very much :,) ❤️

I hope this turned out okay ! 

I’m probably gonna pass out after this lmao , it was worth it tho :,)👍

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

The number one rule this frog has when cuddling with you ? He wants you to be as comfy as possible , and if you want Bullfrog is going to bring something to drink for the both of you : a nice cup of tea , some juice … anything goes , as long as you like it .

< Here’s your tea , mon amour … be careful , it’s still hot . > 

< Thanks love , you’re the best ~ > 

If you’re someone who happens to get very flustered when he speaks French , Bullfrog will have the time of his life whispering sweet nothings in your ear while holding you in his arms … 

The way you blush is just so cute for him ^//^ 

< y/n , ma bien-aimée, tu es merveilleuse à tous points de vue … ~ > 

< B-Bullfrog pleasee ! ~ > 

One silly personal headcanon that I have is that Bullfrog gets especially relaxed by sounds of streams of water streams , waterfalls and other similar things , so I imagine that he would be very happy to have them as a bit of a background ambience while snuggling close with his beloved … 

He probably saves all of those “10 hours of waterfall sounds to sleep and relax to” compilations , he just likes them a lot :) 

Rayman 🧡

Now this man … 

This man doesn’t get as many chances to cuddle you as he’d like , given that he has to deal with so much while working on his show , so you can be sure that Rayman will make the times he can be with you truly special … 

< Aw … did you light up all these candles for me ? > 

< Mhm , I sure did . Cuddles with my lovely y/n need a bit of atmosphere after all ~ > 

< Hehe , you’re always so sweet Ray , thank you ~ > 

Rayman loves to just lay his head on your lap while staring up at you … it’s such a nice moment of intimacy , especially since it’s a position that makes it easy to snatch a kiss or two … or maybe three ;//) 

< Here , come a little closer y/n … god , I’ve missed this so much … ~ > 

While he likes to be able to talk to you while you cuddle ( especially since you’re possibly the only person who he can be fully sincere with ) , Rayman adores to just listen to anything you may want to say while snuggling close to you and let the sound of your voice relieve him from all his troubles …

He is just so glad to have you , he can’t stress about it enough ! 

Ramon 🖤

I think it’s safe to say that after everything that’s happened , Ramon has become even more physically affectionate than before : he just really needs all the reassurance he can get , so one thing he’ll do when you cuddle is wrap his hands around your waist to prevent you from even thinking about getting up …

< Ah geez , is that my phone … ? Can I just check real quick who it is ? > 

< No . Might be another one of Eden’s tricks to try and locate us . > 

< Heh … are you sure it’s not also an excuse to keep me from getting up ? > 

< Hmm … I dunno what you mean ~ > 

He really loves to bury his face in your chest : the sound of your heartbeat and your warmth are like a shelter from the outside world , and Ramon longs for nothing more than having you as close to him as possible . 

It’s also so very relaxing for him to be able to be vulnerable at least for a moment … he just can’t begin to express how important you are to him , but he’ll do his best .

< y/n … I love you so much , you know that … ? 

You’re … heh , literally everything I could ever ask for . > 

If you end up falling asleep while you cuddle together , Ramon is going to be watching over you for quite some time , looking at you while occasionally leaving little kisses on your face …

He won’t rest until he’s sure that you’re safe , he won’t allow anything bad to happen to you … not now nor ever . 

[sugar-plum-writer]

Valentines Day Special [Propose Day]

Paring: Gojo x Fem!Reader; Sukuna x Fem!Reader; Toji x Fem!Reader

Tags: Established relationship; Romantic; How would Propose day be with them~ A/n: What would different Valentines day be with them~

[If you like it and want more fics please comment, like and reblog~ thank you~]

GOJO:

He has the whole thing plan, you are married? It does not matter if it was up to him, he would re-marry you all over again as many times as humanly possible. You guys will go on a nice evening date, eat nice food, dressed well as if it was the night of your proposal maybe even wear the same outfit that you guys had worn years ago.

Walking down the streets, arm hooked to the other, maybe even a small dance if you guys are too flirty, sparkling light, faces a bit flushed from drinking wine and laughing. Next thing you know as you reach a nice spot, he’ll go down on one knee and propose again- strangers around you will think that you guys are getting engaged and cheer around him yelling “Yes! Say Yes!” not knowing you guys are in fact married.

Seeing your bright smile under the stars it’s as if you guys fell in love all over again. Love never ends rather keeps blooming into something more and more until even love falls in love with your relationship.

SUKUNA:

After the first day, he will actually look it up, the curiosity gets the best of him, can you blame him? Being so many years old he is still getting used to modern love.

Knowing it’s proposal day, he will actually dress up, and if you guys are married, he will still take you out on a nice formal dinner. He might look calm from the outside, the stoic expression unwavering, confidence to the highest degree, but unknown to you his heart is actually beating fast. Sure, he has had many women, but to propose to someone whom he treasures?

His ego won’t allow it but he is a bit excited. After the dinner, as you guys walk normally, you would not even suspect or get even a hint that he is going to propose. Suddenly as you guys walk, he will stop, and you’ll look at him confused as to what happened; but when you see him actually go down on one knee, the King of curses actually kneels for once in his life?

Your heart explodes, adrenaline kicks in making the blood rush to your face.

“Y/n?”

With a deep breath, he looked into your eyes

“Will you marry me?”

People around you seeing the scene cheer around, the words from his mouth were sinking and you ran- you ran towards him and hugged him as tears streamed down holding on to your eyelashes.

“Yes! Yes, I will! I love you!”

He froze a bit, not believing himself what had happened, but his heart was happy, sure you were his no doubt. But now to think you’ll be his even more- filled his heart with satisfaction. Maybe this Valentine's thing was not so bad afterall.

TOJI:

This man for once will get out of his baggy pants and shirt and wear a suit and fix himself, making you realize how hot of a boyfriend you really have. People stared at him before, and now you felt you were walking next to a celebrity, holy shit how hot is this man?

The annoying part? He knows he is hot, so he is unfazed, as if it’s just an average Tuesday for him. You know what else will he do? Use his hotness to seduce you all over again, oh honey this is just the beginning, he will purposely sweep his hair back, and show his forearms, the veins knowing exactly the type of things that get you going.

As you guys’ order, he’ll shamelessly flirt with you and lower his voice further sending goosebumps and chills down your body

“Oh really? I guess someone is thirsty”

“It’s not meaty enough for you darling, is it?”

“Better finish it all up after all, don’t you finish every last drop I give you?”

His hands making way up to your thighs smirking as he gives them a squeeze

God, he has you crazy for him and for you? He’s twice as crazy

As the dinner comes to an end you guys will make your way out and walk down the streets with his hands around your waist caressing it. As for proposing, he’ll do it on a day not today, why?

He hates to admit it but he wants the proposal to be special. He does not want to propose just because a calendar tells him, hence when the day arrives to propose to you-

He takes you on a vacation to the place you always wanted to go to, and does everything and anything to make it even more special, the best views, the best of the best- making you scream as you get all excited, an all-exclusive place? He somehow has the tickets to it, that one restaurant you wanted? It is conveniently near the place you guys were looking around at. As the vacation comes to an end, he will take you to watch the sunset near the beach and as you guys walk hand in hand- he will stop letting you walk a little further

Right when you turn around, he’s on his knees

“Y/n…”

To think he would be nervous when he was not nervous to fuck you against the wall in public

“Will…you marry me? Will you make me yours? Can... I be yours forever?”

"Yes! Oh my god Toji! Yes! a thousand times!", running towards him you buried your face on his neck

Link to my Masterlist! Link to full Valentines day post!

[taevolu]

Parasocial [Part One: What can go Wrong?] 18+

Brief Summary: she was a streamer that liked to play games for fun and to meet new people. Her fanbase was growing more and more and she loved to interact with her fans as much as possible. However, someone wanted something more than just online interactions. He wanted her, needed her and would do anything just to be with her.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,961

Warnings: yandere tae, taexdom, obsessive/possessive tae, stalker, computer hacking, masturbation, porn, home invasion

Parts: Part One, Part Two

***I do not portray any of the members to act like this in real life as they do in this story, this is all fictional!***

―

“Good evening everyone! I am so stoked to play Sun Haven for you guys!” You say to your viewers on Twitch. You always loved to play games after work and decided to make it your side hustle to get extra money. It was always your dream to become a full-time streamer and based on your growing viewers, it might even happen. Your viewers are all very supportive by showing up and tipping you as much as they can, it was like you had your very own fanbase! There was one viewer in particular that joined everyday, his name was Taehyung. He was always hyping you up, tipping you huge amounts of money, and staying until the end of your stream. You really appreciated him as one of your viewers.

You continued to stream and interact with your viewers, having to scroll through chat to read and reply to every single one. But you stopped at a comment that caught your eye as it was from Taehyung, “You make me so happy, thank you for taking some time off of your day to stream for us!” It warmed your heart when you saw his comment, thanking him in return.

You were about to end the stream but wanted to chat with your viewers before going. A lot of them wanted you to create a discord server, saying that it would be a fun way to keep chatting with you or with others after the stream. You thought that it was a great idea as you wanted to talk and get to know your viewers a bit more too.

After creating your account and announcing the server, you got tons of  friend requests from your viewers and without any thinking, you added them all as a friend.

*ding*

You got a notification from your discord’s private messages.

[Messages]

Taehyung [21:03]: hi y/n! im so glad that you finally set up a discord account!

You [21:10]: hi taehyung! Yeahhh it did take a while to finally decide to

Taehyung [21:10]: well im glad i can talk to you everyday now and not through your lives 🙂

You [21:19]: thank you for supporting me!

Taehyung [21:19]: goodnight ❤

You [21:26]: Goodnight 🙂

You got ready for bed, glad that you had another successful stream.

Taehyung chuckles at himself as he hearts your message, happy that he had a platform to finally talk to you privately and not with other people. He loved you so much and wanted you with him forever. He wanted you for only him and no one else, just the thought of you being with someone else angered Taehyung. He planned to hack your computer to receive your IP address to find out where you lived but he wasn’t able to do so until you went back on stream.

“You’ll be mine soon.”

Before work, you went to your usual cafe place to wake yourself up after a long night of gaming. You see your best friend, Mael, behind the counter.

“What’s up y/n! How are you?” He greets you as you walk over to the counter.

You and Mael have been friends since junior high and used to hang out often, unfortunately, since you both graduated, life has been busy. But the both of you always caught up every morning while he got your usual ready.

“I’m doing well!” You reply.

He chuckles, “You seem a bit more cheerful than usual.” He said as he was about to finish up your drink.

“Just had another successful stream last night. A lot of my viewers asked me to open up a discord server and I’ve just been raided with a whole lot of compliments.” You explain.

Mael hands you your order, a warmed croissant with a chai, “Isn’t it a bit risky to do that though? Like creeps messaging you everyday?”

You shrug, “Maybe, but I will be careful, promise!” You say as you grab your things from him, waving him goodbye as you exit the cafe to go to work.

…

*ding*

‘I'm excited to watch your stream tonight 🙂.’ You look at your phone and see that Taehyung has messaged you. You smiled and reacted to his message, no time to message him back as it was almost time to start your stream.

“Good evening everyone! Today’s game will be…” You continued your stream like normal

As you continue to play your game, Taehyung quickly gets to work. It did take him a while and was glad that you decided to play longer today as you didn’t work the next day. He was able to get ahold of your IP address and found your information. He chuckles to himself, he was close to having you.

Taehyung started to look around your area, trying to find a home to be close to you. He wanted to hang out with you like you were friends, he wanted you to like him, and wanted you to finally notice him.

Taehyung shouts with glee as he found a home that was just minutes away from your area. He began to pack up his things, not caring about anything else that he was going to leave behind.

He was on a mission and you were his goal.

It took Taehyung a week to own his home and to get everything ready for him to confront you in person. He was able to locate and observe you to figure out your daily routine, knowing which stores you always visited and where you worked. You weren’t much of an outside person which made this easier for Taehyung.

‘Everything was going as planned.’ Taehyung thought.

You started your morning routine before work, going over to the cafe for your usual. You greet Mael as you enter the store, him already getting your order ready. You sit down on one of the booths, opening up your phone to reply to your fans that commented on your post last night.

You suddenly hear footsteps walking towards you, assuming that it is Mael with your tea. You turn around to grab your things to leave but you were wrong. 

“Hey y/n! Fancy seeing you here!” Taehyung says, excitement showing throughout his face, you looked at the man in confusion, not knowing who he was and why he knew your name. The man then realized and introduced himself, “I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Taehyung, I watch you on twitch!”

You froze, you weren’t expecting to ever see any of your viewers in person, especially Taehyung. You had to admit, he was a good looking man. His body was slim, his hair looked messy but styled at the same time, and his face looked godly.

You didn’t realize that you were standing in place while still staring at Taehyung until Mael cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Here’s your order y/n.” He says, then passes Taehyung to walk over to you to hand over your things.

“Thank you, Mael.” You murmured, Mael nodded and began to walk away. Taehyung had his eyes locked onto Mael as he walked away, eyebrows furrowed, but changed his expression once he turned back to you.

“Sorry if I disturbed you, I didn’t mean to.” Taehyung says while fiddling with his jacket.

You shake your head, “It’s okay, I just didn’t expect to ever see any of my viewers in public, that’s all.” You nervously laugh, “But I gotta go to work soon.” You wave Taehyung goodbye as you reach the door but he stops you by grabbing your hand.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hangout sometime?” Taehyung asks.

You turn around to face Taehyung, “Yeah sure! Just message me and I’ll be there.” You reply. You see Mael looking over to you, mouthing ‘don’t do it.’ but you just shrug him off. Taehyung was one of your #1 supporters on twitch and have stuck with you since you started streaming. 

What can go wrong?

Taehyung watched your stream that night, chuckling to himself as he finally had you in his hands. The more he looked at you, the more aroused he felt. He ran his hands all over his body, feeling himself and wishing that it was you touching him. He reaches down to his pants to reveal his cock, pumping his cock as he moans your name. He begins to pump faster, groaning as he wished it was your pussy instead.

“Fuck, y/n, I want to feel your warmth so fucking bad.” He moans, gripping his dick harder as he was about to cum. He groans as he shoots his cum all over your face that was displayed on his monitor.

He stands up from his chair, wiping his cum off of his monitor, “Next time, my cum will be on your pretty and soft face, my darling.” But that gave him an idea. Your stream was about to end and as you say your goodbyes, he begins to dress up to head somewhere.

Your home.

He didn’t live too far from you, just 2 minutes away, glad that he was able to find an apartment unit so close to yours. He walked up the stairs to your apartment’s front door and saw all of the lights in your unit were off, noting that you were already asleep. The doors in this apartment complex were easy to get into as they can be unlocked by fingerprint or keycode. Good thing for Taehyung, he got your fingerprint when he grabbed your hand as you were leaving the cafe earlier this morning. He uses the tape that got ahold of the print and unlocked your door in an instant.

Taehyung slowly opens the door, no creaks to be heard, and tiptoes his way into your unit. His layout was the same as yours, making it easy for him to find your room. He sneaks into your room, slowly opening your door to see you without any clothing, masturbating while watching porn. You moan in pleasure as you rub your clit, your wet pussy and the video filling up your room. Taehyung can feel his erected cock suffering in his pants, waiting to be used. He pulls out his cock, pumping it while he watches you rub your clit. Your moans start to build up as you are getting closer to your orgasm, your speed increasing. Taehyung sees that you are getting closer, pumping faster to cum with you. You moan in pleasure as you reach your orgasm, twitching from the sensual sensation. Taehyung notices as he sees your body twitching, feeling the same sensation as he cums into his hands.He pulls his pants back up and begins to watch you get ready to fall asleep, waiting until you fall into a deep sleep.

He stood there, hearing you softly snore, queuing him that it was time. He opens up your door even more, slowly walking in towards your bed. He was glad that you decided to not clothe yourself as it made it easier to touch you. He lightly touches your legs to move them apart. He feels you move under his touch, stopping his action to not wake you. He hears you softly snore again and begins to lean in close to your pussy. He inhales to smell the scent of your pussy, the smell of your cum still lingering. His mouth started to water as he was impatient to taste you. He inches his mouth closer to your opening, his tongue softly touching your pussy while he licks up your juices. He then sticks his tongue into your pussy, motioning his tongue to your clit and down to your entrance, feeling your pussy becoming wet under his touch. He smiles as he hears you moan in your sleep. He continues to lick your clit while he carefully pushes a finger in your entrance, you start to squirm but he didn’t care, he was waiting for this moment. He slowly pumps inside you while he quickened his pace with his tongue, your juices and his saliva piling up on his chin. He feels you tighten around his fingers and quickly pulls away as he doesn't want to wake you from your sleep. He slowly crawls back out of the bed to not wake you up, and stands up to observe your body. He smirks admiring your perfect breasts, staring at your erect nipples. He begins to lean down, kissing both and creeps out of your room slowly while carefully shutting the door behind him. He smiles to himself, satisfied that he finally got a taste of you.

…

You woke up as a cold breeze came into contact with your exposed pussy, realizing that you forgot to clothe yourself back up before getting into bed. You sat up in bed, going over the dream you had last night. You had a dream of someone eating you out but you couldn’t see who it was. You haven’t had someone eat you out in a while, blaming that reason for your dream. You groaned as it made you horny again but you had to get ready for work. You stand up from your bed and get ready.

You finally got to the cafe, walking over to the entrance. When you walk in, you see the same people that go in there daily like you. However, you see someone who you don’t see often and it was Taehyung. You feel different after seeing him sitting with his coffee, the feeling of your pussy gushing underneath your panties. You were wearing a skirt today and the breeze between your legs led a shiver down your spine. You shake your head to compose yourself, scolding yourself for being horny so early in the morning.

You walk up to the counter and thank Mael but he stops you, “Please be careful y/n, I’ve been really worried about you lately.” You roll your eyes at him. Mael has always been protective but you don’t blame him, you were a juvenile teenager and always chose poor choices but you were an adult now and knew better, you didn’t want him to worry about you forever.

“Mael, I am quite sure that I can take care of myself. I do appreciate that you care about me a lot. I will be more cautious with what I do, I am not like the teenager that I was back then.” You hear him sigh.

“I know, I am just worried.” He starts, he then leans in closer to whisper, “Ever since that one day, he has been showing up lately.” He whispers as he looks over to Taehyung. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Mael, don’t worry about him. He is a kind person. And plus you don’t know him that well to be assuming stuff about him.” You say in a hush tone.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “And you know him?”

“I don’t, but he is harmless, trust me please.” Of course you didn’t know him personally but you didn’t see that in Taehyung, he never showed the intentions to be a ‘creep’ when it came to your lives.

Mael sighs again in defeat, “Okay, fine, but if you come to me for help just know that I told you so.” You smile and nod in response.

You walk over to the door to leave for work, feeling sharp eyes on your back. You turn around to see who it was and it ends up being Taehyung. You gave him a smile and a small wave, he does it back and stands up to walk over to you. While he does, you see Mael’s eyes shift over to you both but you ignore him.

“Hey, y/n! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tomorrow at the club?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, sure! I do want to get my mind off of some things right now so I would love that!” You reply. You see Taehyung’s face lighten up in excitement.

“Great! I’ll meet you at Forum tomorrow, 22:00 okay with you?”

You chuckle. You appreciated that he respected your stream time but you were planning on canceling your stream plans that night, “I’m not streaming tonight so we can go at 21:00!” He nods in response. You say goodbye to Taehyung as you were getting late for work.

Once you got into your car, you get a text from Mael. You sigh after looking at his text message.

[Messages]

Mael [7:47]: Be careful please.

You [7:48]: If you are so worried, why dont you just come with? We are going to the Forum at 21:00 tonight.

Mael [7:48]: Okay, I’ll see you there

You threw your phone into your bag, tired of talking to Mael and started driving over to work.

While you left the cafe, Taehyung sat in his spot, his heart racing as he started to think about the things he wanted to do with you as he had you in his hands. His thoughts suddenly stopped as Mael approached him.

“What intentions do you have with y/n?” Mael asks. Taehyung shifts his gaze over to the man. Taehyung didn’t like Mael as he always talked to you, especially earlier as he heard your conversation with him.

“Nothing. I’m just one of her biggest fans.” Taehyung says nonchalantly.

Mael huffs in annoyance, “Well whatever it is, don’t do anything stupid.” Taehyung nods slowly and begins to make his way out of the cafe.

Mael was going to be a problem between you and Taehyung. And Taehyung had to do something about him. But now wasn’t the right time. He needed to have you first.

― 

PLEASE do not copy, translate or post my writing on any other platform without my consent. ― taevolu🤍

Inspired by trivia-yandere and the parasocial game by chillas art

[thecorvidforest]

I have had a situation recently, and I would like your advice on it. I run a gaming discord server, with private servers for a few games. A streamer joined who claimed to have DID. They seemed to flaunt it all over their streams, seemingly very attention seeking. This, to me, seems likely to be fake, but I am unsure. Can you give any input? I don't want to have someone who makes up mental illnesses, discrediting those who actually have them, around, but I also don't want to falsely accuse someone.

sure, i’m happy to give my input, but it might not be what you’re looking for. you seem to have good intentions and this isn’t meant to bully or shame you at all, i just want to gently push back on this a little bit.

i personally believe there is never a good enough reason to accuse someone of faking a mental illness, especially something like DID/OSDD. there is no reliable way to spot a faker, and accusing people of lying does far more to hurt the community than faking does. let me explain.

some systems like to talk about their experiences, some don’t. same goes for anyone with any condition. talking about one’s plurality frequently is not automatically them flaunting it, and it’s certainly not grounds to assume they’re faking. plurality informs one’s entire life, we should be allowed to talk about it without having to worry if we’re being perceived as attention seeking.

here’s the thing. it’s wonderful that you want to help protect people who have DID/OSDD from people who might be faking it and i don’t doubt for a second that your intentions are genuine, but accusing someone of faking based on how you perceive them will do far more to discredit them than someone who’s actually faking it.

because here’s what’s going to happen if you remove them from your space because you think they’re faking: everyone around you who may be a closeted system - or even just anyone with a highly stigmatized disorder - is going to know that your acceptance of them isn’t based on their self-report, it’s based on your own perception of their symptoms. they will no longer feel free to be themselves, because showing their symptoms comes with the risk of being kicked out. you’ll have effectively made your space less safe for people with stigmatized conditions. and for the accused person, you’ll have removed them from a space that’s meant to be safe and completely invalidated their lived experience based on them choosing to speak about said experience.

on the flipside, let’s say they are faking and you do nothing. most likely scenario, they’re attention seeking and using DID to get the attention they want. what ends up happening most of the time is the person faking it eventually gets tired of the harassment and of having to keep all their lies straight and they stop.

of course lying about an already stigmatized condition for attention is an awful thing to do, and i’m not defending people who do it. what i am saying is that it is far less harmful to accidentally include a liar than it is to exclude someone who may or may not be lying with no way to know for sure if they are.

TLDR: whether they’re faking or not, them talking about it isn’t a reason to assume they are. and regardless, it’s always better to assume they’re telling the truth.

i hope this helps! we had a few switches in the middle of writing this so i’m sorry if the phrasing doesn’t flow well lmao

[abiiors]

To Build A Home

Day 6 of Matty's Birthday Bash! I've never done a headcanon before so I'm really sorry if this is rambly and all over the place

Series Masterlist / the rest of them will be in the reblogged post

minors dni

Saturday: 34 headcanons for 34 years of Matty Healy

In the beginning, there would be so much shameless flirting and rockstar charm he uses to whisk you off your feet. 

It starts off a bit clunky; he is away half the time and worried that you might find it to be a deal breaker. But he’s pleasantly surprised and eternally grateful when you turn up time and time again.

There’s always that nervous feeling in his gut that this is the date he ends up being ghosted, that this is the phone call where you dump him for not being enough. But each time it doesn’t happen and he lets himself hope more and more.

By the third, fourth, fifth time his friends tease him for being whipped, for always getting excited when a text comes through. But they could not be happier at the sight of his bright smile, at the way his eyes light up.

He has a small, tight circle of friends. He would really appreciate someone who seamlessly integrates themselves into it. Not just as his partner but also a friend to his friends.

He pretends to be offended when they take your side over his but secretly he beams with pride every time. His girl, his partner, is not just important to him but important to the people he holds dear.

Then there are moments that are permanently seared into his brain. He remembers coming home one evening and finding you there, waiting to surprise him with dinner and he thinks how he wants to come home to this every single day. To the smell of warm food and your perfume, to sweet music and soft laughter. 

This feels a bit like a beginning of a film to him; your warm body next to his in the white sheets. Sunlight streaming in as the room fills with your giggles because he cannot keep his hands off you. But he’s not worried about this being taken away from him. He believes wholeheartedly that you are his happy ending. 

The first time you say I love you to him, he spends the night on his knees worshipping. And then he spends the morning after counting his blessings. He doesn’t believe in the existence of God, that’s for sure but in his heart, he knows you were made for him.

‘Live here, share my house with me, make it a home,’ he speaks in a hushed voice when you wake up and melts completely at the excited look on your face. There are several whoops of joy once you finally say yes. 

And years later when he gets down on one knee, tears in his eyes, it’s your turn to whoop in joy and say yes. He thinks this is his favourite sound in the world.

Move-in day is chaos. He has to drag his friends over with a promise of free pizza and beer. Half the day flies away going down memory lane. The other half is filled with childish antics and silly fights. These are the golden years of his life, and no, it’s not too soon to say that. 

And there is a maple tree in the garden he cherishes with all his heart. Most days when he finds you reading under it, it makes his heart flutter because it’s sacred to him that his favourite place is also your favourite place. 

There are highs but there are also the lows. There are days when his fairytale dims a bit, when you get into silly fights and arguments. But he refuses to let you go to bed angry. He would rather say ‘I’m sorry’ till the words lose all their meaning to him than letting you sleep in one corner of the bed and away from his arms. 

His heart breaks at even the slightest hint of tears in your eyes. If the reason is someone else then he will find every possible way to make sure that person knows not to fuck with you. If the reason is him, he will grovel and apologise till you laugh and give him a kiss on the nose. That night he sleeps with an extra tight hold around you. Perhaps that night he realises how quickly this could all crumble. 

But his heart soars in his chest when you bring him breakfast in bed the next morning. A true sign that all is forgiven, that you still love him just the same and one silly fight doesn’t change it. 

Let’s not even talk about him being mad at you. He’s utterly incapable of it. He can be annoyed for a bit but then he sees your pout and hears you say sorry and suddenly he doesn’t remember why he was annoyed, to begin with. 

[ahundredtimesover]

Untitled | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: idolverse (no explicit mentions of BTS), strangers au; angst, smut

Warnings: foul language, inexplicit smut (making out, non-descriptive penetrative sex) (18+)

Word count: 16k

Summary: For years as a sculptor, you felt detached from your own work - unable to title them, describe them, name the most basic emotions that artists should be in tune with. A chance encounter with a man one winter night finds you in a journey of finding your own meaning. And as you slowly discover what it means to create and to feel, you find out that this might also be what pulls both of you far apart.

A/N1: It’s been tough being on a writing slump and not being able to come up with something new, but then Indigo happened. I’ve been so into Closer and been wanting to write something that would encapsulate the song’s emotions, but the more I listened to NJ talk about his album (especially Yun), the more I got to reflect on so many other things. So here we are. This was a quick write (and an experiment, too!) filled with my own ramblings and questions that only one Kim Namjoon would prompt me to have. Please enjoy.

A/N2: I’m not an artist, but I’m fascinated by them and what they create (Van Gogh’s Digital Art Exhibition in the LUME, Melbourne from last September just blew my away). In another life, I probably would’ve been a collector. But the essence of humanity in my professional work links to my own appreciation of art in that sense. All the things that I wonder about life and the essence of being human are reflected here. I’ve taken from Namjoon’s reflections and insights as well, and once again, I was reminded of his brilliance and his heart.

2020, early winter 

A little boy with a bucket painting stars in the sky.

That’s what this season’s artwork on the side of the building is. Just this fall, it was a girl raising a paper airplane on this exact spot; in the summer, it was another kid on a swing, and in spring, it was a child with an opened suitcase, their toys falling out and drifting into a stream. 

Lost childhood, perhaps. That’s what happens when the world stands still, Namjoon thinks. He’d written a song about it - the things we lost during the time when time froze, and maybe just like these paintings, life continued to go on. The yearning remains, though, and he can see it on the piece that he’s been looking at for minutes now. 

Maybe the artist is young, mourning their own youth that slipped from their fingers. Maybe it’s someone a little older, mourning it for others. Maybe it’s just a person who’s trying to understand the situation through a child’s eyes - with innocence, confusion, trust. Maybe it’s—

The sound of footsteps disrupts Namjoon’s thoughts. It’s 2AM and he’s a little surprised that someone is in the area at this time. It’s a busy street during the day and the crowd falls away early. It’s completely deserted by this hour; it’s why he likes taking this route from the office to his apartment. He’s always liked walking home regardless of the distance, but it’s at night when he feels most free, and it’s become something he looks forward to everyday. 

He’s about to turn away when he notices a figure run up to the small building where the painting he was just admiring is. The individual lays their bag on the floor and retrieves a paintbrush and a pail, seemingly about to continue their work that Namjoon didn’t even realize was still unfinished.

“Fuck,” the voice curses out. “Fuck fuck fucking shit. Why do I always forget my hot packs!”

The person removes their mask and blows into their cupped hands, rubbing them after in hopes of sustaining the heat from the friction. 

“Just a bit more,” they continue, gloved hand now pointing ripples by the boy’s legs as he stands in a body of water. “Just a bit more.”

As chattering teeth and the blowing of air on hands continue, Namjoon decides to make himself known. The stranger is clearly trying to finish their work - and he’s curious to see this all unfold, finding amusement in watching an artist in action - but the cold air is quite uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” he says, as the figure stops their movements. “I’m not a creep, I promise. I was just looking at your work but you’re freezing and I… I’ve got some extra hot packs with me.”

You slowly turn around with furrowed brows. This is the first time you’ve come across another person during the early mornings you paint on this specific building. You’ve gotten used to the emptiness of this street at this time, but somehow, hearing this man’s deep, rough voice is giving you comfort. Especially since he’s offering something you need.

“Sure, that would be great,” you say, blowing into your hands again.

He slowly walks forward - clad in a thick hoodie and beanie, his mask covering half of his face. He looks familiar, but you don’t have much time to place where you know him from. You take the hot packs he offers, squeeze one with your free hand while the other continues on with the piece that you want to finish tonight.

“Will it take much longer?” He asks, his voice kind. “I didn’t know it was unfinished and it’s quite interesting to see an artist complete their work. So, uh, can I watch?”

You turn towards him. On a normal day, you’d turn him away. You’re not too keen on anyone on your ass while you finish something, but he doesn’t seem like a creep and he was kind enough to give you hot packs at a time like this, so you nod. 

It doesn’t take long. It’s just some ripples and a few strokes left anyway; you were freezing too much last night so you put off the final details for tonight. And then the last bit. You sign your name on the bottom corner, and a gasp leaves the stranger’s mouth.

“Wait, you’re Blue…” he says, the realization dawning on him. “

“Surprise,” you reply, standing up from your squatting position. 

“I mean, I figured since you’ve been painting children and their lost youth this past year but… the man in the rain, the distorted face on the mirror, the hand on the neck… those were you, too.”

Namjoon can’t believe he’s finally face-to-face with the artist whose work has been haunting him since he first came across one on an electric post 3 years ago. 

They were in other parts of the city. He remembers seeing them on walls and buildings during his walks home or when he was in the car, and then some weeks later, they were gone, either replaced with a new piece of work or just painted over, as if it never existed. He’d seen the signature a few times, and seeing it again reminded him that it was you, too. The one who’d created those masterpieces that got him thinking, feeling, wondering.

“You have a good memory,” you simply smile at him, realizing at this point that you’ve left your mask off. You put it back on and take in his domineering form. “Those were years ago; I’ve almost forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t. I mean, sort of.”

“Good. That was the point,” you reply. “I mean, sort of.”

“The point being? That I find something that speaks to me and then the next minute, they’re gone?” He says, quite defensive. It bothered him for a time that he never got to see those pieces again.

“What did they make you feel?”

“Desolate? Alone? Confused? Desperate?”

“Then you forgot about them, didn’t you?”

“The paintings, sort of. Not the feeling, though,” he frowns. “I still think about them but… I think I’ve forgotten exactly what they look like. Is that what you wanted?”

“Pretty much,” you hum, starting to pack your things. “The stuff I leave on for a few weeks are mostly sad, and I paint over them because I don’t want people to dwell on them. I want people… to forget, to move on.”

“But they don’t, not really. I’m sure they’ve taken photos if it spoke to them so much. At least I did, but then I deleted them because…”

“Because you got over the sadness,” you smirk, knowing that somehow, he proved your point, and he lets out a chuckle at the realization. “It may be on their phones but it’s not the real thing. The image may be distorted, the colors different, the strokes a lot smoother. It’s not the same.”

“They should be preserved,” he voices out. “It’s art. Those things are meant to be immortalized, no matter how they make people feel.”

“Not always,” you counter. “At least for me, I make those to forget. The feelings fade once the art does. I created them that way.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums, taking this time to observe you, as you’d rendered him speechless. 

There’s this softness in your eyes that contrasts the words you say. He doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve gone through to create hauntingly beautiful pieces inspired by feelings you want to forget. 

Whatever those are, he truly does wish you’ve let those go. He knows he has. But he still disagrees - he doesn’t think art ever fades. Perhaps feelings do, but he’s come to learn that visual art is eternal.

“So how long will you keep this up?” He asks, wondering when he’d see you again; the allure and intrigue from your words makes him want to know more.

“Until the next season,” you say, picking up your bag now. “It’s been a tough year and I hope the spring brings more hope.”

“But you also don’t want them to dwell on this… the loss of childhood, of youth,” he continues. “You want them to move on from this, focus on what’s to be gained after losing something important.”

“You’re a fast learner,” you wink, and Namjoon surprises himself by the way his heart jumps at the sight. “You must be a genius or something. Or an artist yourself.”

“Neither,” he lies. “I mean, I’m barely anything, really.”

“I doubt it. A guy like you being affected by all this means you’re something, whatever it is.”

There’s something validating about your words, and he smiles behind his mask, something you see, as you smile back. 

It’s odd, feeling a sense of connection with a stranger like this, something he’s never really experienced, most times because he’s always wary of who he meets, especially at this time of the night. But you don’t seem to know who he is. And if you do, you don’t seem to mind or want to make a deal out of it, something that he appreciates. 

There’s comfort in your smile, and he wants to discover what other things cause it. There’s a dearth of experience in your words, and he wants to know more. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that he wants to mirror; he wishes he can give comfort to someone just by looking at them. 

Maybe it’s the cold breeze. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the end of the year and he’s spending it alone again. Maybe it’s spending an entire day cooped up in his studio only to go home to an empty apartment. Maybe it’s knowing what a year it was and what’s about to come. He didn’t think that a stranger in a yellow puff jacket who cursed so crisply would be the one to make his walk back home not feel so lonely. That the woman who’d casually painted some ripples and splashes on the wall was the one who’d make him feel a little less alone.

“So, uh, do you usually paint at the start or end of the season?” He wonders.

“Are you trying to ask when you’re gonna see me again?” You look at him with an arched brow.

“Maybe,” Namjoon chuckles. He’s also just trying to delay your departure, seeing as you seem to be ready to leave. 

He doesn’t want to ask your name, not ready himself to share who he is. But perhaps the next meeting won’t be as serendipitous as this. 

“It depends,” you tease. “But maybe I’ll see you again, either here, or elsewhere.”

“I hope it’s soon,” he confesses. He’s being bold, but his eyes light up when you reply.

“I hope so, too.”

Namjoon walks the opposite direction of where you are headed, turning back once to look at you, and catching your eyes when he does. 

Winter passes. His busy schedule doesn’t permit him to take this route for a while, and it’s mid-spring when he sees a new painting that’s been completed - a young girl looking through a glass window to a world outside, her fingers holding onto the latch as she readies to open it. A small smile forms on his face; he at least sees something of you, even if it isn’t you.

The next time he’s able to pass by, it’s the end of summer, and all he sees is a gray wall - empty, undisturbed, as if there was nothing there to begin with.

2021, autumn 

The bell rings as Namjoon enters the building, an art gallery that he’s been frequenting the past few months. There are new pieces, he’s been told, and one of the curators that he’s become friends with informed him that some of the artists are in town. 

He nods in greeting at familiar faces - employees, artists, casual visitors. He walks around, taking in the new paintings and sculptures displayed. As he turns towards one of the smaller rooms, a piece catches his eye.

It’s something he’d seen before, a piece of ceramic sculpted in such a way that it looks like a flower in one angle, a seashell in another. And, dare he say, a vulva from a little farther away. 

He reads the label. Untitled 56, Samantha Lee.

Namjoon goes through the photos on his phone, knowing it was a trip to LA over 2 years ago where he’d encountered something similar. 

And there it is. Untitled 48, Samantha Lee. 

He took the photo from an angle that looked like flowers, thinking about the simplicity and beauty, the choice of colors, and how they hung on the wall as part of the installation. It was one of many pieces he documented, but was the only one he didn’t get much story from. There was no description, no background. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

“Find something that interests you?”

Mr. Hong is one of the founders of this gallery, and he spends much of his time getting to know the regular visitors and the artists. He’s definitely someone who knows when something strikes Namjoon, like right now.

“Samantha Lee,” Namjoon responds. “Are they a local artist? I think I saw their work in LA some time ago.”

“Ah, yes Ms., uh, Ms. Lee. She’s a local and has her pieces displayed in several galleries. She’s here, actually,” Mr. Hong excitedly shares, noting how important it is for the Kim Namjoon to meet one of the artists. “She was supposed to come yesterday but decided to drop by today instead. Would you like to meet her?”

“Ah, that would be great,” Namjoon smiles back. “If she is fine with that, of course.”

Mr. Hong is never sure if the said artist is, but Namjoon is a special guest, he thinks, so the older man nods. “I’ll lead you to her.”

Namjoon is led up a small flight of stairs and out to a patio with more installations displayed. He spots several people outside, and he tries to determine which one of them is the artist he wants to meet, perhaps ask why she’d untitled all her pieces, and why there’s nothing of her at all that she chooses to share.

He stops in front of two women as instructed by Mr. Hong.

“He’s a fucking asshole, that’s what he is,” a familiar voice spits out. “The next time he harasses you, I’m going to impale his dick with my heels and—”

“Ehem,” Mr. Hong clears his throat, prompting both women to look at him. “Ms. Lee, one of our patrons would like to meet you.” 

He shares a look with the woman before she nods and smiles. She turns to Namjoon where he’s met with familiar tender eyes, eyes he’s been yearning to see since that cold winter night.

“Blue?” He asks, surprised.

“My favorite color, yes. How did you know?” 

You look at the man in front of you, tall and broad with caramel skin and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You’ve seen this smile before. Even behind a mask, you could tell it’s him, the man who’d saved your ass that one cold winter night with his extra hot packs and his calming voice. 

You thought you’d see him again, seeing as he seemed to want to, but he never came that spring. You even left a small, ridiculous note at the corner where your signature usually is, asking when he’d come, thinking he’d communicate with you there. But the response never came. 

The universe is tricky sometimes. You passed up on coming to the gallery yesterday because you felt dizzy when you woke up. And of all days that your winter night man visits, it’s the one where you’re here.

“I just figured,” Namjoon smiles, picking up your hints. “It’s one of mine, too.”

“Perhaps we should talk about the complexities of the color, then,” you smile back, nodding towards one of the sections in the large patio. 

You lead him there, leaving Mr. Hong and his warning gaze and your assistant, whose smirk and teasing laughter makes you glare at her.

“I’m guessing they don’t know about you being Blue?” Namjoon asks, feeling a little jittery standing next to you again and being able to see your face much more clearly, your hair tied loosely in a bun and your clothes a nice fit for the cool weather.

“Minji does. She helps me find materials,” you respond. “Mr. Hong doesn’t. He’s not much of a fan of street art.”

“That’s a bummer, especially since one of the artists creates amazing pieces on buildings and posts and then signs them, then abandons them, and leaves spectators like me to wonder where they’d gone,” Namjoon replies, hoping you don’t find offense with his tiny jab. 

Your chuckle tells him you don’t. “You never came.”

“I didn’t know when to,” he defends. “Well, more like, I stopped having the time. That place is so far from where I live and I only walk from my office because I like that time alone and I haven’t had that, but then I came back in the summer but you—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you assure him. “That was a chance meeting and I didn’t really expect I’d see you again in the same spot weeks later.”

“Did you expect to see me this time?”

“Oh, not at all,” you shake your head. “Why are you even here?”

“Why are people ever in art galleries?” He counters. “To check out the art. Maybe chance upon the artists if they’re here.”

“I guess,” you shrug, turning a corner to a small maze of an installation. “You wouldn’t have known it was me, though.”

“I didn’t. I was staring at Untitled 56 and realized I took a photo of Untitled 48,” he reveals, earning him a shocked look from you. “It was in LACMA. I saw it a while back. The name rang a bell because I don’t know anything about you. You leave so much to the imagination, Ms. Lee. There’s nothing about y—”

“It’s Han,” you correct him, feeling comfortable now. “I mean, Han ___. Samantha Lee is another pseudonym. Or like a stage name. You know, like you?”

You bite your lip at the slip-up, not wanting him to be uncomfortable at the thought that you clearly know who he is. But he just nods, affirming that he now knows that you know who he is, but he smiles right after, his eyes turning into the smallest, prettiest crescents and his dimples framing his strong-featured face that makes him even more handsome. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums. “But why blue? And why Samantha Lee?”

“It’s the simpler version of my favorite color. Aegean blue is too complicated to sign every time,” you chuckle. “And Samantha Lee… Well, she was my roommate back in college and she once told me she wanted to be famous and the only way that could happen is if I used her name as a pseudonym. I had a crush on her so I agreed.” 

There’s a long pause before Namjoon realizes that you’re not joking, and he comments that it’s interesting but he doesn’t ask again. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he reaches out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say, internally melting at the feel of his warm and large hand. “So why did you take a photo of Untitled 48?”

“It looked like a clam.”

At this, you burst into laughter.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, just to be clear!” He insists. “It was beautifully made. It was of a neutral color but it somehow stood out the most to me in that section. And it was the 48th; I wondered why they didn't have titles. And your 56th, which looks like—”

“A vulva,” you snort.

“Yes,” he chuckles, “and a flower, yeah - something I’ve been into lately. And well, it was interesting. And seeing your piece here reminded me of that,” he goes on. “And I just wanted to know… why.”

“Why what?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Why those pieces? Why are they untitled? What prompted you to create them that way?”

“We’d probably have to tour the gallery 4 more times if you want to know,” you chuckle.

“I have time.”

“Do you?” You ask, eyeing the phone in his pocket that's been vibrating for the last 5 minutes.

He smiles shyly and excuses himself. When he returns, he has a disappointed look on his face. “Turns out, I don’t have time. But I want to. I… uh, will you be here again anytime this week?”

“I will. I’m just not sure when.”

There’s something alluring with these coincidental meetups. Somehow you want more of those, perhaps to let the universe tell you that you’re meant to constantly meet this man whose time you know you’ll never have enough of, even if he makes it for you. 

“Let me see you again?” 

“You will.”

You catch his eyes when he turns back as he walks away. There’s a sparkle in them, and you’re afraid to want to see it once more.

**

The walk to the site of the lost youth is a long one, but not knowing when you’d see the tall man with the prettiest smile again, you head there. 

Your last piece was of a child at the brink of freedom, about to take the step outside the cage she’d been in for the past year and a half. You painted over it once autumn started; maybe the next time you’d paint over a building, you’re no longer yearning for lost things. Maybe you’d paint something about finding something new.

“I’m gonna start believing in a higher power if we continue meeting like this.”

The raspy voice is familiar, and you turn around to see Namjoon, clad in a hoodie and a baseball cap, leaning against one of the streetlights across the empty wall of the building you’d been staring at. It’s been 2 days since you saw him at the gallery, about 7 months since the first time you’d encountered him here. You’re unsure what this all means.

“Maybe you should,” you head towards him. “I missed the last bus so I decided to walk home. I’m still far away but this is on the way. Why are you here?”

“Stayed up at the studio,” he replies. “I’m incredibly exhausted but I don’t know, I got the energy for the long walk. Then there you were.”

“There I was, appearing so suddenly again, yeah?” You chuckle, leaning on the opposite side of the pole. 

Namjoon merely hums before he nods towards the direction of his apartment. “I’m heading there.”

“Me, too.”

With his hands in his hoodie pockets and yours crossed against your chest, you try to match his long strides.

“Painting came first,” you say, as if answering the question that he’s been thinking of asking. “Painting was everything. We had so many pieces in our home, and it’s as if they spoke to me. I mean, in a not creepy way, it felt like all of my parents’ own pieces spoke to me. And they always told me I wasn’t good enough.”

Namjoon turns to look at you with empathy in his eyes. He lets you speak, and he finds out that both your parents are the artists he’d been researching lately. Your father is a classical painter, and your mother does contemporary. He can’t imagine living in gigantic shadows like that. 

“When I was 15, my parents pulled strings to get some of my pieces displayed with theirs,” you sigh, recalling the mixed emotions then. “It was exciting at first, but the patrons wouldn’t mention my name unless they mentioned my parents’. And then one of my favorite pieces that I made was sold to a man who wanted it as a decoration in his summer home’s living room.”

Namjoon slows his walk and you match his pace. You meet his comforting eyes, and there’s that warmth you feel from, technically, a stranger that you didn’t expect.

“I made that piece at a time when I was frustrated living in my parents’ shadows,” you continue. “Someone once told me that art is meant to be shared, that there’s humanity in the community we create when it’s shared, that the meaning deepens when others make their own. That piece had so much of me in there; I felt like the meaning of that piece was stripped away from me the moment that stranger took home that canvas for a select few to look at. It wasn’t mine anymore, it was his; it was theirs. I stopped painting after that.”

There’s a certain kind of pain in giving up something that matters deeply to you, in losing meaning in the thing that’s given your life meaning for most of your life. Namjoon knows a bit about that pain. Many times, he’d found himself questioning all that he does, what he stands for, and what the world expects him to be. 

He sees that pain in your eyes, of losing a part of you as the art stopped meaning what you wanted it to. But he doesn’t think that all is lost. 

“But your street art,” he reminds you. “That’s still you. That still has meaning. And that’s something that you share.”

“That’s Blue, though,” you manage a smile. “She’s just a part of me.”

“She’s still you,” he insists. “Can you tell me about her?”

And so you tell him - how you argued with your parents about quitting painting, how you were going to turn down the scholarship in a prestigious art university to take up sociology instead, so they shipped you to a foreign country to fend for yourself, and that’s when you learned what loneliness felt like. But that’s also when you learned about people in their rawest sense, what it meant to struggle to survive, what it meant to lose something that mattered, because you studied them - you studied how humans grieved and how they persisted. You studied how they lived and how they died.

“Blue wants meaning, and she still struggles in finding it,” you explain. 

“Does she?” Namjoon questions. “I’m in my late 20s but your lost youth series resonated with me. All those paintings of the man in the rain, the distorted face… they’ve inspired me in ways I can’t explain. That’s meaning, ___. That matters.”

No one outside of Minji knows all these versions of you. Except Namjoon, the brightest star you never thought you’d ever meet. Hearing him speak about your work this way makes you feel something - a first in a long time.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say shyly.

“It’s a shame they’re not displayed in galleries and museums, though.”

“I don’t want them to,” you say, surprising him. “People intend to go to museums, but they pass these streets out of necessity. I want them to stop and look, to feel, to think for a few seconds before they go back to their routinary walk. And then I remove them, so they can forget what pain and sadness feel like.”

“Looks like you found your meaning, then,” Namjoon smiles, comforted by the fact that someone as talented as you had found purpose again, something he relates with at a deeper level than he imagined.

“The painter in me did,” you reply. “The sculptor, not so much. “

“Untitled,” he hums.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can name something I understand, or at least, feel,” you say. 

“That’s a lot of untitled works for you to not understand what you do,” he chuckles. 

“I’m prolific because there’s not much of me I lose when I create them,” you explain. “I just sit in my stool, craft something, then call it a day. Not to brag or anything, but it comes easy. They’re shallow pieces, Namjoon. They don’t even deserve to be in galleries but Mr. Hong insists they do for some reason. I wish this version of me, Samantha Lee, understood why it matters, why someone like him would believe in my pieces, why a Kim Namjoon would think that 48 stood out to him enough to keep a photo.”

Namjoon processes your words. As an artist himself, he believes in the meaning of the pieces that he creates, whether it’s a song or a poem or an album or a concert. There’s effort put into them even if it’s something created in 30 minutes. Your pieces are beautiful, and he wants to explore more - you and your meaning, you and your value. 

“Then why do you keep making them? What about it makes you keep sculpting?”

“The feel of the clay on my skin, the way my fingers get to mold and create the details,” you explain. “I get to touch it. I don’t get to do that with painting, you know? It’s the paintbrush and the canvas I feel but with sculpting, I get to mix the materials, I get to shape it, hold it.”

“There’s that intimacy,” he offers.

“Yeah. And it’s addictive because it’s closeness I’ve never felt before.” You turn to him before speaking the next words. “It's an intimacy I’ve never experienced before with anyone or anything.”

“Isn’t that your meaning, then?” He questions. “The piece itself might not have a story on its own but all these untitled works, the process of creating, of it being easy because you can’t get enough of the intimacy you get from creating… that’s meaning. That desire for closeness, for meaning… that’s meaning.”

No one’s ever put it that way for you, probably because you’ve never let yourself be this honest with someone about your art. All your friends aren’t artists because you wanted that world separate, you didn’t want to have to talk about it feeling as insecure and lost as you are. 

But Namjoon - he’s one of your generation’s greatest artists. He weaves words and sounds so beautifully to create masterpieces that people consume and hold so closely. He understands. 

“I’ve made songs that took me 30 minutes,” he shares. “But I’ve also made songs that took me to dark places, that broke me as I wrote them. But once they came out, once I’ve shared them to others who’ve shared what it meant to them… slowly, I started becoming whole again. Isn’t that an artist’s burden? To break to create, to feel whole after that, and then to break all over again?”

“You are truly one of a kind, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him. “I’ve lived with artists my whole life and they never let me understand art in that way.”

“I’m still figuring it all out,” he shrugs. “I still feel lost sometimes, but I think it’s natural to feel that way, to be unsure or confused. I guess what matters is that we’re still walking on some road to somewhere, even if we don’t know where we’re heading.”

“Is that where you are right now?” You wonder. “On a road to somewhere you don’t quite know yet?”

More than you know, he wants to say. He’s in this period of experimentation, of figuring out his signature style, of figuring out who he is and what he means to his teammates, to the industry, to the world. 

“Sort of,” he shrugs. “It’s hard sometimes. Walks like this give me a reprieve. Consuming other people’s art lets me understand things a bit more.”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, conversing with strangers gives me time to breathe, too.”

“Ooh, so I’m still a stranger, huh?” He chuckles, shyly looking at you. “Our third unplanned meeting, an hour of walking home… and I’m still a stranger.”

“What would you want to be, then?” You turn to him, a little teasing smile on your face.

“A friend, for starters.”

“My nighttime friend?”

“Not just,” he shakes his head. “I would like to see you again, actually. And I don’t want to put this up to chance this time. Like, something planned or—”

“And how exactly would that work?”

“I, uh…” he thinks. “I’d invite you to my apartment. And you can invite me to yours?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay.”

“Are you always this bold?” You giggle, not missing the way your cheeks start to feel warm at the mention of visiting each other’s homes and him wanting to get to know you. 

He’s obviously handsome - you’ve known of him since his band made it to your TV screens, being young men who were around your age, singing songs that resonate so deeply with you. But he’s more than that, as you’re learning. There’s this passion for creating that's refreshing, something you seem to lack.

“Not always,” he looks away, the dips in his cheeks something you’re sure you won’t get enough of.

“You should be. It makes a girl flustered but it makes it so difficult for her to say no,” you smirk. Sometimes, you also don’t know where your own boldness comes from.

“You? Flustered? That’s quite hard to believe,” he teases.

“That’s true. But it happens, believe it or not, when a gorgeous, brilliant man asks me over.”

Your heart stops for what feels like a minute, but his sweet, child-like laughter melts away your worry.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask. 

“Surprisingly, no,” he replies. “I appreciate your honesty. About everything. I hope we can give that to each other.”

“Okay then, your turn,” you challenge.

“Hearing you curse was kinda hot.”

You try to hold off your laughter, your defense to your true reaction, which is to smile like an idiot and feel like floating. 

“That’s interesting. I would’ve thought it’s something to do with my looks or my talent, you know?” You arch an eyebrow teasingly.

“It is. I think you’re beautiful. And I’m usually a forgetful person but I haven’t forgotten your sweet smile since I first saw it last winter,” he says, catching you off guard. “And your talent… there’s a reason why I have 48 saved on my phone, and why I sought out your street art these past years. I want to know what intimacy in art is like for you. I guess I’ve sort of lost that in creating my own.”

“Intimacy,” you repeat. “I think we both lack it in certain ways.”

“Maybe we’ll find it,” he says more confidently now, holding your gaze as your eyes trace his face. 

“Maybe we will,” you respond, feeling your whole body warm with embers of fire. 

He insists on taking you home, another 20-minute walk away from his. But you claim to enjoy that time on your own, assuring him that you do this all the time and the streets are safe.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” He asks, and you give him your phone for him to input his number.

“I will.”

It’s 30 minutes later when you do. It’s 1AM, but you and Namjoon spend the next 2 hours talking some more - about his songs and your pieces, about his plants and your collection of wind chimes. 

You didn’t expect to make him laugh as much as you did, and he said he didn’t expect you to think his ramblings are adorable and amusing. You most definitely didn’t expect your heart to beat as fast as it did when he told you, in his deep, raspy voice, that he’s glad he took that long walk that winter, that he visited the art gallery when he did, that the hopeless romantic in him pushed him to go to the place you first met. 

“I think I’m crazy but somehow I feel like I’ve known you for so long,” he muses. 

“I feel the same way,” you assure him, as you hug your pillow and slowly surrender to sleep.

“Good,” he hums. “That’s all I wanted to know. Good night, ___. And I’ll see you soon.”

2021, winter 

There’s a warmth in Namjoon’s home that’s hard to replicate. Filled with his favorite art pieces of all forms, he said he curated it to reflect his emotions just as much as his tastes. It’s clean and well-organized, with books on shelves and stacks on the floor, and an entire area full of liquor - his new interest, he’d said. 

He’s had you over several times already; the first one, barely a week after that long walk home. You both spent hours that day talking about his favorite artists, and it wasn’t enough, as he asked you back the next day. 

You often talk about your childhood, one that you weren’t always comfortable sharing, but being with him makes it easy. 

It’s easy when he looks into your eyes when you speak, as if he’s telling you that he knows you say more than words. It’s easy when he’s got his own stories to share - stories of vulnerability and honesty, of fear and confusion. It’s easy when he still stutters over words sometimes and then gets lost in his own ramblings, then he chuckles when he realizes he’s talked so much, and you tell him that it’s okay because his voice is calming and his thoughts are a breath of fresh air.

It’s easy when his presence is comforting, when his anecdotes about his friends and family make you laugh until your insides hurt. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you can question everything about your art and your purpose and your abilities but he never makes you feel like a failure. It’s easy when he smiles and laughs nervously, when he’s funny without meaning to, and when he makes sure you’re comfortable by always having your preferred tea and biscuits next to the wine you once said is your favorite.

The only time it gets hard is when he stands a little too close as you look up at a painting or a book on a shelf. You could feel the heat from his body; a slight movement and you’d be touching, mere cloths in between you. It’s hard when his arm brushes the slightest bit against yours. It’s hard when he gazes at you when there’s silence, and it’s like he’s studying your face before you call him out and he apologizes because he “can’t stop looking at pretty things.” 

It’s hard when he hugs you goodbye and he wishes you a safe ride home. It’s hard when he sends you a message right after, saying he wishes you both had more time.

Being attracted to Namjoon is hard; being attached to him is torture. 

“You’re looking for him again,” Minji states the obvious as you walk around the gallery, your eyes darting to the door every time the bell rings. 

“No I’m not,” you deny. “He just got back from his trip abroad and he’s tired. He won’t be coming here.”

“Doesn’t mean you wish he would,” she smirks. “But why rendezvous here? You guys go to each other’s houses. And no one goes to your house… aside from me.”

“We can’t exactly see each other in public, you know?” You glare at her. “But… I don’t know, it’s nice to see him look around and talk about what he sees. I feel like I learn more from him. And that’s weird, isn’t it? This is my field. The arts have been my entire life, but I’m learning more about it from him.”

“What is it about him?” She wonders. 

She doesn’t say that she’s noticed more life in your eyes since he came into your life. She doesn’t say that she’s noted that you take more time creating pieces, seemingly savoring the process unlike the way you used to. She doesn’t mention the smile that she hasn’t seen in all the years that she’s known you. 

“Passion is sexy, you know?” You giggle. “He has so much of it, it’s inspiring.”

“Is that all?” Minji smirks.

“He’s also fucking gorgeous. I try not to ogle him but I think he’s noticed. Fuck me.”

“Maybe he wants to.”

“Shut up. Don’t make me hope.”

“You do that to yourself,” she laughs. “Keep denying that you don’t want to see him or want anything more with him and let’s see how you do.”

The truth is, you know. You know that you’d fall hard if you let yourself go like that, but it’s human to know danger and then still want it, isn’t it?

The vibration from your phone ringing surprises you. 

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice booms on the other end.

“Hey,” you reply. “How was your trip?” 

“Good. I just got home. We had to stop by the office for a bit. My place is a mess and we have something again in the afternoon,” he huffs, sounding incredibly tired. “Can I come over tonight?”

You almost drop the flute of champagne you’re holding. He’s been to your house twice, but this is the first time he’s specifically asked to come over, especially considering that he just arrived from a trip abroad. 

“Of course,” you hum. “Any dinner preferences?”

“Your cooking,” he says simply. “But wait for me, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

“Okay,” you say, before dropping the call, unable to hide the wide smile that forms on your face, to your assistant’s amusement.

“Why don’t you try to let go this time?” She advises. “Maybe you’ll find the intimacy you’ve been longing for.”

**

Namjoon overestimates your cooking abilities. Truly, all you know to do is prepare ramyun and fry anything. But, compared to him, he’s said you’re chef level. “The guys” don’t even want him near the kitchen, he tells you all the time. 

But instant noodles and pork belly seem enough for him, as he eats with his mouth closed and hums in satisfaction. You take the time to savor the way he looks. A few weeks without him has started to feel like months. 

“It was overwhelming,” he finally says. 

He knew the moment he landed that he wanted to see you. There’s comfort in your presence that he’s begun to accept, and being with you allows him to be honest, to feel real, to feel human. 

“It was great to be able to perform again, to hear the cheers and the sounds and everything. It was also terrifying,” he continues. “I was nervous and excited, I was scared and elated. I felt so fulfilled and satisfied but I also felt like it wasn’t enough.”

“That’s a lot of conflicting emotions,” you hum.

“Are they? Conflicting, I mean.”

“It depends, I guess. They seem up and down to me. Does it bother you?”

“That I felt all that, all at once?” 

You nod in response.

“It used to,” he admits. “At the start of all this, I thought, I can’t be scared. Six other guys and an entire company are looking to me to succeed. I have to be strong and confident. And then, an industry is waiting for me to fail. And then, my own country is letting me - us - represent an entire generation, it’s asking me to carry on this cultural wave. It never ends. And I used to think I couldn’t be scared, that not wanting all this anymore means I’m ungrateful.”

“But you aren’t,” you try to assure him. You can’t imagine the burden he feels, leading a group that feels all kinds of pressure. “I’ve heard you talk about your art and your poetry and your brothers and your fans. You’re easily the most passionate, hardworking, and appreciative person I know. I don’t think you’ll ever run out of things to give.”

“It’s tiring,” he sighs.

“I’m sure. But you’re honest about it. You’ve always been. Doesn’t honesty unburden you, even just a little bit? Doesn’t it leave you space to feel more, to be more?”

Namjoon hums. For someone who claims to not know much about feeling, you seem to know what to say to make him stop and think, to remind him of why he does what he does. And why ultimately, he’s always going to love it.

“It does,” he finally says, sitting up straight to take a better look at you in your linen pants and soft sweater. “Do you do that, then? Unburden yourself by being honest?”

“I’m not good at doing that,” you chuckle. “If you don’t know by now, I say a lot of seemingly profound things that I don’t necessarily live by.”

“Why not?”

“Honesty scares me. Being vulnerable scares me. I don’t know how to return it.”

“Has anybody ever been all that to you?” He wonders, feeling the tension build a little.

“Once” you say, standing from the dining table and heading to the large window that overlooks your garden. “And I ran away.”

“Is that why you sculpt, then?” Namjoon asks, walking towards you. “Because you don’t know what to do with intimacy so you do it with your art? You want to hold and touch what you walk away from? You don’t give it a name because you don’t want to define it? Because you’re scared that if you do, you’ll realize that you actually want it - the closeness, the warm body, the rawness that you can only get from being with someone else.”

You look up at him, towering over you. He came from a short filming, donned in a white, buttoned polo with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can see the darkness of his hazelnut eyes and the stubble on his chin. You spot the beauty mark on his neck and the smoothness of his skin, especially on his chest, as he leaves 2 buttons undone. 

“Reading me now, Kim Namjoon?” You cock an eyebrow, trying to break the tension that’s built up in the last few minutes. 

“I’m trying, because I want to get to know you more, find out what you’re afraid of and ease it somehow,” he admits. “Because I feel the same way. I’m honest but I’m scared, yet with you, I’m honest but I’m brave. I feel like I’m brave. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I met you, I just wanted…” he glances at your lips then meets your eyes again. “I just wanted to know more, to feel more. To understand what it’s like to be intimate with someone who doesn’t know much about it like me. I want to figure it out. With you.”

“How?” 

One word is all you get to verbalize, as you feel him come closer, the heat of his body intensifying with every second. You’re backed up against the window, the distance between you and him decreasing and decreasing. 

His eyes are boring into you, and you bravely gaze at him back. You mirror his desire, as you lick your lips when he glances at them again. Your chest is heaving as is his, and your heart races even more when he breathes out your name.

You palm his chest, and for a brief moment of uncertainty in his eyes at the thought of you stopping him, you instead grip the cloth that covers him, and you slowly pull him in.

His lips are soft. And the way he gently presses against you is tender, comforting, like he wants to savor it and go slow. He angles his head the same time his hand reaches for your waist, and you feel the slightest wetness from his tongue.

You grant him entrance, and the second you do, he takes control, tightening his hold on your body as he cages you, his one arm now propped up against the window. You moan into each other as tongues and teeth clash, and you can’t help your hand that travels to pull on the ends of his hair, brushing your fingers against the nape of his neck right after. 

It’s a little sloppy, needy, but there’s still gentleness in there. It’s in the way he cups your cheek, caressing it with his large fingers and letting it slide down your chest, back to your waist. It’s in the way he smiles into the kiss when you moan your pleasure; you can almost feel his dimples as he does. It’s in the way that he asks for more, not with dominance but with care, with understanding, with caution. 

You both pull away to catch some air, lips swollen and wet, but your smiles say you enjoyed it. The way your bodies haven’t completely detached from each other shows that.

“Would you let me stay the night?” He asks softly, as if it’s a request he’s afraid to ask. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Be with me tonight.”

Underneath the covers of your bed, you lay in his arm while your fingers trace patterns on his taut chest. You can hear his heartbeat still drumming, and you can feel the care in the way he caresses your cheek, your arm, your waist.

“I don’t know what I can give you, Namjoon,” you admit. “I don’t know how to be as honest and vulnerable as you. I don’t know how to share parts of me that I don’t understand. I don’t know what I can do to ease all your worries and concerns. I—”

“Just give me moments,” he interjects. “Nights like this, days at our homes, afternoons at the galleries, hours on the phone… I just want to feel something that I can actually touch, that I can savor. And I want it to be you, the one I get to hold and taste and kiss.”

He leans forward again, and you capture his mouth in yours. There’s no need to do more - much as you’re wet and he’s definitely hard, but neither one of you is rushing, neither one wants to scare the other.

He’s hot, the kind that burns. That’s how it is with people as passionate as he is - their touch can light a fire on your skin, and you won’t be able to stop it.

“I can give you moments,” you whisper. “Just tell me.”

2022, spring 

You can count the moments with 2 hands. 

Namjoon stayed with his parents over the holidays but he videocalled you everyday. You both went to a few galleries outside the capital but did so separately, spending hours after that talking about the pieces over the phone. 

You’ve come to appreciate your world much more deeply with his commentaries and reflections, and with you, he said he’d gotten to breathe a little longer, laugh a little louder, and feel a little more human. 

He stayed over your place 4 more times; you stayed over at his thrice. You debated over movies and recommended each other books. It was common to spend the day wrapped up in each other on the couch while you both read separately. He made you listen to a few songs he’s been working on - some of which were inspired by your many conversations and your own musings, and you’d showed him sketches of your upcoming planned series on sculpted landscapes.

It’s freeing, being able to share about your world with someone else like this, and being part of someone else’s, too. Whatever it is you both have is freeing - kisses included, which never went beyond what you first did. Despite the obvious desire to do more, neither of you ever tried, perhaps knowing what it would entail. There’s distance between you and him but there also isn’t. There’s enough comfort and intimacy that you’ve only scratched the surface of, but this seems to be just enough. 

“I have the weekend off,” he pants over the phone. It’s 11PM and they’ve just finished rehearsals for an upcoming series of concerts abroad. “Do you want to do something?”

“A trip to my parents’ summer home?” You wonder out loud. The spring air has come and you love going to the lake at this time. “It’s by the mountains and it’s really private. The estate is like their personal art museum with their works and others’. I visit every year. But if—”

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” he huffs. “That’s fucking amazing.”

“I know I got you at the art museum bit,” you laugh. 

“You got me at the really private bit, actually,” he says seriously, causing your heart to race. “And the art of course. And you. Always you.”

“Alright, Casanova,” you tease. “Just make sure I don’t get in trouble for taking you somewhere weeks before you leave.”

“We’re alright,” he responds. “I can’t wait.”

**

It’s a 3-hour drive to the estate by the mountains. In the far future, your parents want to open it up for private viewing, and so you want to make sure that your art lover more-than-but-not-really-friend gets a first peek. 

You spend the entire ride talking about a hundred topics, going off tangent when he rambles again, and you’re the one who circles him back to the original discussion. You hum tunes while he sings songs, and when you find private spots, you take the risk and take photos.

You make it to the estate in the late morning, and as you expected, Namjoon’s jaw drops. 

The fountain at the front is an art piece itself. The front door was shipped from Indonesia, and the furniture are a beautiful curation of pieces from all over the world that were gifted to or bought by your parents. 

You watch him gently trace the carvings and the details. You’re in awe as he absorbs the sculptures and paintings as you tour him around. And you melt every time he turns to you with the biggest smile on his face, like he’s discovering a secret that only both of you know. It’s breathtaking and absolutely precious. 

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, as he catches you marvel at him. “I like it when you look at me like you want me.”

“Don’t fluster me,” you say, turning away. 

“You’re not denying it,” he counters, walking closer to you.

“I would be a liar if I did.”

“That’s good to know,” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know I only asked for moments but can this weekend be filled with that?”

He looks nervous, like you’d turn him down.

“I… it’s been tough, dealing with a lot of things,” he continues. He’s mentioned some difficulties lately, and you know there’s not much you can do about it. Except, maybe this. “I just want something to hold onto, like being here with you, experiencing all these art pieces, being close…” 

He cups your cheek and gives you that look that you’ve become familiar with, his request for intimacy that you both continue to explore.

“Okay,” you respond, taking his hand and kissing it. “Okay.”

You eat lunch, explore the east wing of the property, and at mid-afternoon, you convince him to swim on the lake with you. 

“Isn’t it freezing?” He asks worriedly.

“That’s the fun part of it,” you insist. “There’s a hot tub we can stay at after.”

Namjoon gives in. It’s easy to, with a smile like yours that makes his heart race every time. Especially when you come out in your blue swimsuit, shaping your curves and all other parts of your body that makes his own react. He can’t help but marvel at you, even as you tease.

“Hey, big guy, eyes up,” you smirk. 

He blushes when you giggle, but he does tease back, removing his shirt to reveal his body that he’s been working so hard on. He does flex a little to give you a taste of your own medicine, and it works.

“Hey, eyes up,” he chuckles. 

You feel a shiver when his finger tilts your chin up, and you do the childish thing and bite it before you run to the lake and dive in. Namjoon follows, canonballing and then swimming over to chase you. 

You haven’t swam here in years. You merely used to watch the sun rise and then gaze at the sky and imagined doing all this with someone else. You didn’t really think you’d end up here with Kim Namjoon, but here you are.

Namjoon pulls you to him as you swim close, and you both float in the water with your arms around his chest and his arms around your waist. You’re obviously both drenched, and that just leaves so little to the imagination, especially with the cold water a little more overwhelming than you expected. 

His hair is swept back, with beads of water lining his face and sliding down his neck and his chest. He’s broad and incredibly built. It’s unfair that his body looks as amazing as his face. 

“Does Minji know you’re here with me?” He asks.

“Yes, teased me nonstop until I picked you up. What about the guys?”

“They do. They insist we are a couple.”

“And?”

“And I said that we aren’t,” he says cautiously. “We’re friends who spend a lot of time together and cuddle, and uh, sometimes do a little more.”

“What a complicated way to say we’re friends with benefits,” you laugh.

“I don’t see it that way, though,” he furrows his brows. “I don’t want to reduce what we are to each other to just benefits or something sexual or shallow. Do you see it that way?”

“No,” you say. “I… I’ve come to understand art a lot more because of you. I’ve come to appreciate what I do. That’s not just some benefit.”

“And I… can’t even explain all that you do for me,” he says. “We’re more than that. Less than lovers, but more than friends. And our moments shape this, whatever name we call it.”

“Untitled,” you wonder out loud. “Sometimes artists name their pieces as such when they can’t find a better descriptor.”

“So 58 sculptures in, and you still can’t find a better descriptor?” He teases.

“Shut up,” you smack his hard chest. “I titled them that way because I didn’t have a meaning for them. I just created them. But then I met this man, tall and built with a sexy brain, and he made me realize that the meaning is in the creation, too. So 58 works, 58 times I experienced intimacy, the only times I do.”

“Ah, so what about us?” He nudges you with his nose. “Aren’t we intimate?”

“It’s a different kind, I guess,” you say. You’re not my creation and you’re not mine, you choose not to say. “You don’t break. You’re the one that breaks other things.”

You pass it off as a joke, and he buys it. You don’t want to think much about what you and Namjoon aren’t; you just want to think about what you both are - something that may or may not be fleeting, but something beautiful nonetheless.

The sun shines a little too bright, and you take the chance to get out of the water and into the dock to soak up its heat. Namjoon follows and you both lay that way, just next to each other, catching your breaths.

“Are you feeling a little better?” You ask, wondering if he still carried over all his concerns here.

“Yes. It’s exhilarating,” he responds. “It’s nice to feel this way for a change.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt this way before, too.”

“Not this way,” he turns to you. “It’s different, I guess. It makes me think of all the other emotions I have yet to feel, the ones I’ve felt only briefly before, and the ones that I’ll never feel. I think life’s too short for a person to experience all kinds of emotions. I was it wasn’t.”

“Are humans built for that?” You question. “To feel every possible thing out there? To feel every variation of pain and sadness and joy and elation and pleasure and desire?”

Namjoon thinks. Surely, being able to have emotions and to truly feel is what makes us humans and what makes us different from animals. It’s what marks our humanity, regardless of what emotion that may be. But are humans really capable of feeling everything without breaking? Without it being too much?

“Maybe not,” he finally responds.

You think, too. You’ve often wondered why you were so scared to be vulnerable, to take risks, to love. You thought once that feeling things is overwhelming - what do you do with them? How do you handle them when they get too much? When you become too happy or too sad or too scared or too excited? 

You think maybe because like all things in this world, you can never have emotions. You feel them, but you can’t own them, they can’t be yours. Like your art. You can create them but they stop being yours once you share them. Like music, as Namjoon has told you, it stops being his the moment he releases it for others to consume. And it’s scary to not have that permanence; it’s scary to not have that assurance that you’ll always have that joy or that excitement or that elation. And in some way, it’s also scary to know that you won’t always have that pain or that sadness.

“Maybe humans are only built to try to feel everything,” Namjoon states, having thought about your question and his years-long quest of figuring himself out. “But we aren’t meant to achieve it. Maybe our life is about just feeling bits and pieces of it, sometimes longer than others, but we can’t feel it all, and definitely not all at once. It’s like truth; we spend our life seeking and trying to live it, but we might never be able to. Still, we have to keep trying.”

“Hmm,” is all you manage to say. “Do couples have deep conversations like this?” You laugh this time, needing his thoughts to linger a little longer.

“They should,” he laughs. “But it’s enough for me that I have someone like you to make me question things. It reminds me that I have more to discover, to feel.”

To feel. 

Sometimes Namjoon makes it seem so easy to just do that. He’s able to name what he feels, unlike you. You wish it was easy, like saying that the cold water on your skin is refreshing, like the sun’s heat is comforting, like the clouds in the sky are soft.

You don’t notice your hand reaching up, wanting to just touch them because you want something concrete, something more real than what your imagination says that clouds feel like. But instead, you feel rough, warm fingers interlocking with yours.

“If you want to feel something concrete, I’m here, you know?” Namjoon says, thumbing your hand to let him know he’s right next to you. Somehow he just knew what you were doing, what you were wishing for.

“But this is what couples do,” you tease, yet tightening your hold nonetheless.

“Friends hold hands,” he smirks.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. They kiss, too,” he hums, lifting himself up only to hover over you, catching you by surprise, but your desire trumps that, as the view of him - damp and natural-looking - makes your insides twist in circles.

“Hmm, like this?” You peck his lips, then his nose, teasing him.

“Sometimes. Other times it’s deeper. You know, like this.”

He dives in, and you welcome him immediately, your mouth already slightly open for your tongue to entangle with his. It’s long and deep, as how your kisses always are, and you feel him shift above you, fixing his position with his arms caging your head for support. He angles his mouth so he can have more of you and control how far he goes, how hard, and how fast. 

Your fingers, whose spaces were filled by his just minutes ago, ghost over his neck. They trail down to his chest, gingerly passing by his pecs and his abs, the tips now resting on his hips.

“Fuck,” he moans in your mouth, and you immediately know why he does, feeling his length getting harder by the second. 

It prompts him to grind on you, and you meet him halfway.

“Fuck, Joon,” you whine once his lips detach from yours, only to meet your neck when he sucks then licks over the sting. “Fuck.”

He hums in satisfaction at the sounds you make, going south now as he teases by giving tender kisses on the exposed part of your breasts before biting your nipple over your suit.The obscene sound you make turns him on, especially when you pull his hips harder against yours.

“Oh fuck, baby, yeah,” he groans in your ear now, and you might as well have just come from the way he said those words. 

And then you remember where you are - in the outdoors, in your parents’ summer home. Private as it may be, you’re still exposed, and you remind him of the fact before he slows down and agrees that you can’t be doing this out here. 

“I’m sorry I got carried away,” he says shyly now, as if he didn’t just devour you with his skillful mouth.

“Yeah, this is totally your fault,” you tease. 

He chases you back to the house where you both spend another hour in the hot tub, just talking like normal friends, as if you didn’t almost just cross a line. But it’s like that with Namjoon, you’ve come to realize. Everything is easy, everything is natural, like you can just forget that he isn’t him and you aren’t you.

You spend the rest of the day looking at all the pieces on the first floor, with you sharing as much about them that you can remember. You both sleep that night with his head on your chest and his arms around you.

He sleeps soundly, snoring even. And as you comb his hair, you think of how close you were to wanting so much more in the lake earlier. You think of how much you wanted his lips on your mouth, all over your body, and you wanted it everyday. With the way he held you close and breathed desperately on your skin, you had a feeling that so did he. 

Living in this dream-like state with him feels surreal, several months in. Because that’s what he is - a dream. Here’s a man grounded by his principles despite the fame that seems to shackle him, yet constantly propels him to new heights; a man whose search for truth and humanity shows you that he just wants to be a good person, and a person who does good. 

Beyond his unmatched talent and gift with words, beyond his strikingly stunning looks, is a man who cares deeply, who feels deeply, who submits himself to what he commits to, whether it’s his music, his brothers, his plants, or his interest in art and nature and even whiskey. You have a feeling he’d do the same to whoever he plans to be with. You don’t know if it’s you, and the more you find yourself wanting him, the more you wish it isn’t you.

Namjoon is a dream, and you know at one point, you’re going to have to wake up.

**

The gallery is buzzing, as it always is when there’s a new exhibition. You’re excited for this, too, as the featured artist is one you admire. 

Namjoon admires her as well, which is why he’s here, dressed in a black long-sleeved buttoned top, looking immaculate as per usual. He has a busy schedule but he made time, knowing how special this event is. 

The room holds its breath when he enters; as a well-known lover of art, everyone has come to expect him to be a guest in exhibitions and various art shows. He bows at the other patrons and artists present, and they fawn over him, being the famous man that he is. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this side of him. You’re used to him rambling, making jokes he doesn’t realize are funny, and being lost in his own thoughts. You’re used to him in his natural environment - in his home full of books and paintings, and in his studio, which you’ve seen dozens of times through your phone screen. He fits right in here, though - he can easily follow on with the conversations, whether it’s about business or culture or literature. He can charm anyone with his smile and his good looks, and too many times, guests awe at his presence, finding out that he’s much more commanding and handsome off the screen. 

You hide a smile as he glances in your direction. You’ve agreed not to talk much today; there are too many people around and any kind of interaction might be grounds for rumors that neither of you are ready to face, at least that’s what you think. You and Namjoon don’t really discuss those things. You always see him in your periphery, though, and perhaps just like you, he just wants to be where you are, even if no pleasantries or conversations are shared. 

But Mr. Hong pulls him aside to introduce to Ms. Suh, and you can see from afar how Namjoon is fanboying over the artist whose work he’s very interested in. 

It’s nice to see him in his element like this, too. Here, though still a celebrity in the eyes of everyone else, he’s a spectator. He’s told you several times how his trips to these places have made him think about the kind of legacy he wants to leave with his music, with his poetry. And how pieces in museums and galleries are timeless, permanent; they live on regardless, and each person is free to make their own meanings. You know he wanted to comfort you then.

You become involved in your own conversations until someone barrels inside the gallery and makes a scene, of all days. The slightly inebriated man is familiar; perhaps a patron you’ve seen before, but he comes in and starts yelling at the staff, going on about something you can’t understand.

Not wanting to be part of the scene and be involved in something you don’t know how to handle, you slowly step away, that is, until you see him storm towards the room where your art pieces are. He seems to be targeting someone as he looks around, but the security gets to him first and he flails his arms around, eventually knocking over Untitled 56, and the cracking sound rings in the entire building.

“You knocked over a precious piece, you bastard!” You hear Mr. Hong yelling. 

You start walking slowly to where you see the shards of ceramic have fallen on the floor, and you’re unsure what you feel. Is it loss? It doesn’t seem like it. Is it anger? Perhaps not. 

“It’s just some useless flower anyway,” the raucous man answers.

Shame. You think that’s it, maybe that’s the feeling. Insecurity, sadness. It’s all of that yet nothing at all.

You stand there over your broken piece, the one you created while the rain was pouring and you’d just finished a bottle of wine by yourself because you could. Everyone seems to be as shocked as you, especially with the man finally contained and led out the building. You look up to take your eyes away from the scene, but you see Namjoon’s instead - anger filling his, sympathy, care, all at once.

You shake your head once, instructing him not to say or do anything. And he follows, loosening his clenched fist and stepping away to the back of the crowd. You instruct the staff to sweep the broken piece away, not wanting to see how fragile and temporary your creation is. All that had been reduced to shards and pitiful looks of the crowd.

You don’t really want to be here.

**

You’re filled with emotions you can’t name. You’re afraid to feel them all, so you cower on your couch and cry to yourself. 

It’s just a piece of useless flower. It’s the 56th of untitled works that you couldn’t name yourself because you didn’t know what they meant, what they symbolized, yet it hurts you this much that it’s gone. Hurt. Is that it? You’re still not sure.

The banging of your front door startles you. It’s 9PM and it’s been 4 hours since the incident. Minji offered to tell you the whole story but you didn’t really mind. You wonder if it’s her this time, wanting to know how you’re doing.

But it’s Namjoon, panting on your doorway when you open it. And the first thing you think to do is bury yourself in his arms.

It’s immediate, the catharsis of being in his hold. It’s like you’re enveloped in a warm, protective blanket that you don’t want to get out of. He embraces you tightly, letting you cry on his chest as you try to make sense of what you’re feeling. 

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear so that the words don’t get lost in the sound of your sobs. “I’ve got you. Don’t tear yourself. I’m here with you.”

You don’t know for how long you both stand there, but it’s long enough for the tears to stop falling. When you’ve calmed down, Namjoon tilts your chin up to face him.

“Hey,” he greets with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you right away. I wanted so badly to punch that man.”

The shift of emotions is immediate, as you see his furrowed brows.

“He didn’t have a right to be there and to ruin what you worked hard for. I asked Mr. Hong to look into him and I’m so sorry, ___. That piece… that piece is–”

“A useless flower,” you shake your head. 

“Please don’t listen to him. Listen to me,” Namjoon insists. “You know what I feel about it. That piece led me to you.”

“And now it’s gone.”

The thought hits you hard. That piece led you to each other, and temporary as it is, it’s now broken. Maybe art isn’t timeless, you think. It can burn, it can break, just like all things. Just like emotions. Just like what you and Namjoon have.

“It may be but look what it did for us,” he challenges your thoughts. “A broken piece won’t change us, it won’t erase us.”

Tonight, this is what you want to hear. And with his fingers tracing your cheek, you think that tonight, he is what you want to feel.

You pull him close and crash your mouth onto his. It’s fervent, desperate, wanting. There’s this need in you, this animalistic desire that has you wanting him to prove you wrong again - that some things can be touched and felt and that they’ll stay and won't break, that emotions can be just as real and tangible, that they matter and that it’s worth it. You want him to prove it to you with his mouth, his words, his touch, his body.

He answers back, inhaling you completely, his tongue working on yours right away, doing that dance you’ve both memorized by now. Your moans are loud and needy. You want all of him, all over you, and with the way he groans your name and curses as you grind against him, you think he feels the same. 

You’re in a haze, falling into hypnosis as you feel his hands all over you. You guide them to your clothed breasts, down your waist where he sneaks underneath. His touch burns so deliciously, and it’s what prompts you to unbutton his clothes, to feel him bare and naked, his skin against yours - raw, vulnerable, honest.

Things you don’t know how to be. 

You pull away, feeling as if you’ve been snapped out of the spell.

And then you’re crying, as you look at Namjoon with his top undone, looking at you curiously before he’s walking towards you in concern.

“No,” you almost scream. “I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t supposed to. We’re not supposed to do this. We’re just… we’re just something that’s temporary and–”

“No,” he replies, surprising you. “Don’t be sorry, please. I wanted it, I still do. I want you. Fuck what we said about being just friends. I want more. I–”

“You don’t mean that,” you insist, not wanting to hear his words. 

It should comfort you, shouldn’t it? You’ve known long ago that you’ve fallen for him, but you made yourself believe that all things are temporary, and this one time you wanted something permanent with him, you got scared out of your mind. 

“I do,” he counters. “Fuck it, all I wanted to do earlier was hold you in my arms. Fuck the other people around who’d see. I just wanted to be with you. Is that what friends do? Is that what they feel? I have to be honest, right? We said we’d be that to each other. I want you, ___. I want to be with you.”

“I can’t, Joon. I can’t,” you sob. 

“Be honest with me this once. Do you want me?”

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Then why can’t you be with me? Why are you making it so hard for yourself, for us?” He yells.

“I–” you start, but you don’t know how to continue. You cover your face with your hands and fall onto the floor.

You don’t think you’ve ever cried this hard, and you’re unsure exactly what you’re crying over.

“Hey,” Namjoon softens, leaning down next to you as he tries to free your face. “I’m not mad, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t even… I can’t even say what I want to say because I don’t know. I don’t–” you sniff. “I don’t know what I feel, what I want. I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, taking you in his arms again. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just get some rest.”

He calms you down again and leads you to your room. He waits as you wash up and then he tucks you in bed. 

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You watch him eye your lips, and then he looks away. 

**

Namjoon comes over the next day with a basket of pastries and coffee. He knows enough that you won’t have energy to prepare anything to eat. 

You can’t imagine losing all this, but that’s what’s about to happen.

You’d been so close to giving in to him, so close to letting yourself be vulnerable to him, but doing so in flesh isn’t all there is to it. You can make love to him, bare your body to him that way but you wouldn’t be able to do it with your soul or your heart. 

What does being raw and honest mean? You don’t know. He deserves someone who knows.

“I still don’t know what I can give you,” you tell him as you both sit across from each other in the seating area in your garden. “Months later, I should know but I don’t. Even just moments, I… can’t. They make me want you more and I can’t. I don’t know exactly what I want - with myself, with my art, with you. I don’t know what to give.”

“You act like you’re the only one unsure,” he says softly. “I don’t know if what I can give you is enough. I mean, with what I do? It’s tough, and I don’t know if it would be fair. But I want you. I don’t know how the arrangements would be but I want you.”

“At least you know what you can give, even as you shine as bright as you do, you know yourself and what you can give me, what you can give us. I don’t.”

“But what if we try?”

“That’s unfair to you, Joon,” you insist. “You put your all into everything, and this - us - won’t be any different. But that just means that falling short would break you, and I can’t have that. And then there’s me who can’t give much of herself to anything - not my craft, not my friends, not myself. And you matter too much to only get the barest parts of me. I don’t want to be with you that way.”

Namjoon sighs. It’s not an easy thing to accept. It’s something he understands - all he’s ever known to do was to give his all to everything he wants to keep. If that’s not something you’re ready to do yourself, he can’t fault you for it. 

It hurts so fucking much, though. He’s learned in the course of these months of knowing you that you’re another one of those he wants to keep, that he wants more of, that he wants to learn inside and out - you’re also the first person to ever be that for him. For you to slip away like this is a kind of pain that he doesn’t know how to get over.

“Continue to be raw and honest in everything that you do, okay? Live,” you say, and he nods in reply. “Don’t stop yourself from seeing other people, from finding someone else,” you add. 

You can’t even be honest with this. You hope he’ll always want you, but you don’t let yourself be selfish with him, not this time.

“I won't” is what he answers. 

It breaks your heart all over again and you let it. You deserve it. Who walks away from someone they want, especially when they want you back? Someone afraid like you, someone who doesn’t trust herself enough like you, someone who wants permanence so bad that she lets slip away the one person who’s made her feel it.

You give a half smile and he smiles back.

Namjoon gets up from his seat. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s a month later when one of the museums you frequent launches a new installation. A tall man catches your attention. He looks at you and smiles, his hazelnut eyes gazing at you the way they used to. 

He nods in acknowledgement and so do you. 

And that’s the last time you see him in a long time. 

2022, winter

You stare at the package in your hands - white, with words of comfort. He’s finally completed it, you think. A piece of himself he’s been working the last 4 years on, and it looks just like how he described it to you all those months ago.

You don’t know if you’ll listen to it. You haven’t heard his voice in so long. You’re afraid you’ll break if you do. 

Perhaps just one time, to get it off your system. That might be enough.

You open it, unsure when you’ll unpack this obviously beautifully curated work of art. But the note at the top leaves you no room to ignore it.

Nothing’s changed for me. Let’s find ourselves. And then let’s find each other. I’ll just be here. But please, stay where you are.

Namjoon

You let one tear fall and then leave the package on the top shelf of your closet.

Your bedroom door opens.

“Are you all packed?” Minji asks. 

“Yes, I’m all good,” you smile. 

She helps you with your luggage, down the stairs and into the van waiting for you.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” she hums, holding back her tears. “How long will you be away for?”

“Until I find myself.”

“That might be a long time.”

“It will.”

**

**

**

2025, winter

Namjoon has been to several galleries in New York, but this particular one is a place he’s never been to. It overlooks Central Park, towering at the 30th floor like the other buildings in the city. But it’s 3 floors and he thinks it’s stunning. It’s not overly grand, but it’s also not as simple and natural like the others he’s been to.

He may say it’s not entirely his vibe, but there’s a reason why he’s here. 

Some patrons recognize him and greet him. He bows in response, engaging in small talk when he needs to, but stepping away to get to the exhibition he flew here to see.

It’s nothing like what he expected, although years later, he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

The first thing is, well, it’s titled. There’s a year and a description, too.

2023, swing in the summer home

The piece is beautiful, made in clay and metal. It’s familiar, too. He’s seen this on a lake house by the mountains, over 3 years ago.

2023, the piece that lost its meaning

It’s a painting, but one placed atop a sculpted frame hanging on a wall in what seems like a living room. This scene feels familiar as well.

2024, lost youth

A group of children look up at a plane, with opened suitcases and toys on the floor. The nostalgia hits him.

The rest of the sculptures are new to him. There’s one about a lady in red, one of a neighbor, one of a woman with an umbrella and clouds, aptly titled, what am i hiding from? Further down the room, the emotions become more pointed, straightforward, and a lot more focused. 

2023, coward

2024, i truly was sorry

2025, is this what regret feels like?

2025, i hope you knew i lied

2025, maybe someday

Someone from the outside who knows nothing about the artist might think that the pieces are a little over the place, although one can tell from the titles that they tell a story. The sculptures are made from the same materials - clay and metal, all free standing and in similar sizes. Each caption holds a narration, and all Namjoon can read are words describing emotions, of states of being - innocence, anger, confusion, fear, loss, regret, loneliness, pain, hope, and few more. 

There’s not much about joy or intimacy, though, and the thought saddens him. He had hoped that by this time, you already knew how those felt.

“So, what do you think?”

Namjoon didn’t think he’d ever hear that voice again. He’d cry if he could, especially as he turns to his side and finds you, dressed in a classy, aegean blue satin dress. Your smile is one he’s missed so much, and he wishes he could frame this moment, just so he doesn’t forget. He almost did, and he hated himself when he took so long to remember how you sounded like, how you looked like.

“Nothing like I imagined,” Namjoon replies. “In a good way.”

“I scrapped previous works and experimented with these ones. It took me years to complete,” you explain. “I almost stopped at one point, wondering if anybody would ever get it but then I figured, it didn’t matter. It’s a good thing that lifestyle magazine reached out for a feature. I think that was Mr. Hong pulling some strings. At least I got to say that for years, I didn’t know what I was doing, who I was, but now I do.”

“That’s how I knew about it, actually,” Namjoon hums. “It was in the art gallery because he was giving it away for free. It said your exhibition was here, so I flew in.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “I thought you had a show or filming.”

“Nah,” Namjoon sighs. “I came here for you. Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to find you, or how else to see you. You stopped… you stopped showing up. You just disappeared.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” 

It’s all you can say, really. You didn’t expect to see him here, but when you saw a familiar face enter through the doors, your heart stopped. You had a feeling Mr. Hong had told Namjoon about your exhibition - your first in 4 years. But nothing would have prepared you for this - seeing him again after you walked away from the one good thing you found in your life. You watched him from afar as he went through each of your pieces, perhaps savoring them, remembering them.

“Have you been well?” He asks, the concern still overpowering everything.

“I have.”

“You seem to have lost someone,” he says, nodding towards one of the pieces. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She was my neighbor when I spent 8 months in Sweden,” you share. “She took care of me but then she passed away due to an accident. It was hard for a while.”

“I–” Namjoon reaches out his hand - for comfort, perhaps - but he brings it down. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s okay. And I’m okay. It’s been a year, but I wouldn’t have finished all this without her.”

You’d forgotten how silence sounded like with Namjoon, and you want to remember what it was like. You remember a lot of things, actually, like his laughter, his voice, his smile, the feel of his lips on yours, and many others. 

“How long are you here for?” You finally ask, as you both walk side-by-side past the rest of the artworks inside, with a bit of distance between you.

“I’m here for 3 more days.”

“I stay at the hotel next to the building,” you say, being bold. “I leave here in 2 hours.”

You fumble for your room key and discreetly hand it over to him. “3802, if you want to. I have more to say, and I– uh, shit. If you’re seeing someone, forget what I said.”

“I’m not,” he answers. “I’ll be there.”

**

Namjoon watches the city from your full-wall window, wondering when you’d decide to finally speak beyond a greeting. It’s been 10 minutes since he arrived at your suite with the key you gave him, and you haven’t said anything since then.

“The buildings aren’t the same here,” you finally say. “I’ve been here for 3 months and the sounds of the cars are too loud, there’s too much smoke, people don’t smile… I don’t have anyone here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I decided to finish some of my pieces in the city. I’ve been staying at one of my parents’ apartments not far from here.”

“And where were you before that?”

“Puerto Rico, Greece, Sweden,” you answer. 

“When I said to find ourselves, I didn’t think you’d actually leave, and then not tell me about it,” he laments. “I knew it was stupid to wish you’d stay close. You weren’t in any of the places where I used to see you, where we used to go. I… I asked around but they said you haven’t visited in so long.”

“I couldn’t stay,” you try to explain. “I couldn’t because it just meant waiting for you to come even if I was the one who walked away. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to find myself in a place where I’d always be looking for you, and so I had to go. I’m so sorry, Joon. I–” 

You drop the hand that reaches out to him, unsure if your touch would still be welcome. You clench your fist to stop yourself from doing it again, but he notices. He notices and takes your hand, uncurls it so he can hold it properly.

“How was it being away?”

“It was good. Hard. Terrifying,” you share. “I experienced a lot of new, fun things. I learned a lot. Made a lot of mistakes, too. I met so many people. I–”

“Were you with anyone?” he asks, turning away briefly.

“No, I… I couldn’t bring myself to,” you answer nervously. “And you?”

“No one since you. There was a reason why I asked you to stay right there, so that I knew where to find you.”

“You still found me, 3 years later, on the other side of the world.”

“I had to know if anything’s changed for you. I had to know if you made it, if you found what you were looking for. I had to know if you were happy. But you didn’t create it. There was no piece for it.”

“I found what I was looking for,” you say, looking into his eyes, glancing at his fingers that are softly exploring yours. “I realized that I could only gain whatever permanence I was looking for if I learned to let them go. Because if they come back, they stay. I walked away from you then, and I had to lose myself to all the emotions that I was so scared to feel. And I felt a lot of them, Joon. I felt a lot of things. I was going to go back home after this. But you came to me first. You’re the one always finding me. That hasn’t changed.”

“I suppose it hasn’t,” he cracks a smile. “Did I take too long?”

“You were right on time,” you say. “I would’ve come for you in a few days though. But I’m glad you’re here so that I can tell you that I can finally have this. I can finally give you everything without being scared, without it breaking me, without it ruining the ones I love.”

“Is that what you feel for me?”

“Yes. I guess I did then. I still do now.”’ 

There’s uncertainty in your voice, perhaps due to the fear of him no longer returning what you feel. 

“I found myself, too,” he says. “I figured out what I wanted to do for myself, what more I can give, what more I desired. And I guess you’re right. That permanence can come from losing something and then having them back. And then having them stay. So many times then I regretted that I wasn’t more honest. That I was denying what I felt for you because I was scared of losing what little of a normal life I was afforded. I wished I told you much earlier, but I guess things happen when they do, right?”

“Right, but you can also say them again now.”

“That I want you close, holding my hand, tracing my skin, kissing me? That I want all that everyday?” He smiles, as he pulls you towards him and places your hand on his chest. “That I want everything from you? That I haven’t stopped thinking of you, wishing for you?”

“Yes,” you say, sighing into the kiss you’ve missed too much. 

There’s that tenderness you expected, but the desire is unlike the times before. There’s more confidence now, more security in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s as if he knows that he’ll always have this. That this time, he’s loving you in more than words, and that you’ve come back, and that you’ll stay.

Namjoon presses you against the wall, lets his lips trace down your neck and your chest. He undresses you, remarks that he’s starting to believe in a higher being who created a body like yours, and then proceeds to mouth more praises down your thighs and in between them.

He takes you slowly, amorously. He watches your face contort in pure pleasure, and you mention needing to add a piece for this, too. The way he goes in and out of you is out of this world, and you never want it to end.

You’d think it’s the intimacy you didn’t know how to feel. But it’s more than that. In fact, you find that in being with Namjoon, the intimacy is in everything - the way he holds your hand, the way he wraps his arm around you, the way he lets you bite his arm and tickle him just for fun. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead before he kisses your lips.

It’s in your bike rides together and watching the river whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It’s in your moments of calm - reading books, writing songs, sketching.

It’s in the deep, tender way that he says he loves you. 

You don’t have a piece for this yet. Perhaps it’s another series altogether. Perhaps it’ll require an installation. 

Or maybe, this is the one emotion you don’t need to put into art, the one that you’ll keep for yourself to hold onto because no clay and metal mixture, no tangible piece, could ever describe what this love and intimacy feels like. 

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati–c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink​

[kumezyzo]

p2 of the enemies to lovers pls!!

very fun pt.2 to thissss.... i rambled about their minecraft world cause its kinda cute and builds on their relationship a bit.

i know someone else asked for pt.2 but i could only find this one. so, im sorry it took soooo long to write.

i really hope you enjoy! or dont... :)    m.list

having to share a minecraft house with sapnap made you realize what kind of person he actually was. he was just a six year old in a 22 year old body.

"I want my bed over hereeeeee," he whined, picking it up and moving it to the other side of the room.

it just so happened that one of the next requests from your viewers was to have your beds next to eachother. you two debated pretending like you never saw it, but the next day, it was the top comment on both of your perspectives.

or (when you first started your world)

"what colour do you want your boots?" he asked you as he died his own leather boots orange. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion for a second, looking at your camera strangley.

"what do you mean?" you asked, crafting another pickaxe.

"your leather boots?" he asked, pausing to wait for your answer. "fuck it, youre getting the plain brown."

"okay?"

but you also started to realise how much differently he truly was from when you met him.

"yn, i have a suprise for you," he announced, smiling as he grabbed the item out of his chest. "where are you?"

"chest room," you replied, completely expecting to get thrown dirt or some garbage he didnt want in his inventory.

"close your eyes," he instructed.

"no,"

"okay whatever," he sighed and threw you a notch apple. you silently let your character pick it up before you opened your inventory in disbelief.

"where did you get this?" you asked him, reading the item title over and over.

"in the desert temple," he told you simply, waiting for a 'thank you'.

you were silent for a moment, "youre telling me.... you've had this... for 15 EPISODES???"

and you two started having normal conversations. texting stopped being you two asking for face cam perspectives or gameplay. you actually started forming inside jokes, laughing with eachother instead of at the expense of eachother.

your viewers started to notice as well. you two weren't in a visibly bad mood around eachother anymore. it was refreshing. in the later videos of your series together, you're smiling through half of it, laughing together, and talking kindly to eachother.

people even started making edits of your relationship. it would be of your first interaction, swearing at each other, then fading into your side by side face cams laughing and celebrating over beating the wither.

the friends in your circle started teasing you about how your life was becoming a little fanfiction. every time you would be streaming irl, you would happen to get a text from someone that made you smile at your phone.

"oooh, yn, who are you texting?" your friend teased, seeing you type on your phone excitedly. you look up at the camera and ignore your friend, finishing the text you were sending.

"does it start with s and rhyme with snap map?" your other friend teases.

"shut the fuck up," you roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile.

when dream and george saw the clip, they were hanging out with sapnap. and a similar situation occurred with them

"was this you?" george asked, giggling. the man in question looked up from his phone and watched the clip silently. the smile on your face was contagious. and he hoped it really was him that made you react like that.

"wait, let me see," dream said, pulling georges wrist toward him to see the phone. "looks like she might be dating someone."

"yeah... definitely not me..."

then you both realized you had feelings for each other. it was a harsh realization. but it was one that made you like imagining you two together. for sap, he knew it was coming. he just knew you would never be able to leave his mind. if a childlike crush didn't manifest from it, he would have known something was wrong with him.

sap started getting the feeling that you liked him too. he can't see all those clips and edits and think you didn't like him too. but he was afraid to shoot his shot, just in case you didn't feel that strongly yet.

"hey, what do you think about coming down to florida?" he asked you when you two were on a discord call and fixing up some building in your minecraft world.

"like... to visit you?" you asked, feeling excited by the invitation.

"well- i mean- if you want," he tried to sound nonchalant, but his stammering gave it away.

"if you really want me to... im sure the viewers would really like that, too..."

when he goes to pick you up from the airport, dream comes with him. and the entire drive there, he's considering hugging you or just shaking your hand.

"do i hug her?"

"yeah, if you think you're that close now."

"i dont know if she thinks so."

"I'll hug her first, and then you hug her?"

"what if i just shake her hand?"

the silence that fell over them was sickening. dream turned to sap slowly and laughed.

"dont fucking do that, dude."

and he hugged you after dream did. it was warm, and it gave you both such intense butterflies. it was a hug that you also never really thought would happen. you thought back to the first time you met im person when you refused to even look at him, let alone stand next to him.

dream thought it was adorable, seeing you guys laugh on the way back to their house. he happily sat in the backseat and let you two interact.

he took a picture of your backlit figures in the front seat, neither of your features visible. he thinks about not posting it for half a second before he puts it up on snapchat with "👀👀" as the caption.

everyone slowly lost their minds trying to figure out who they were looking at. most people assumed it was you with sap. he's not hard to miss. but it was even more shocking that you'd be there. so others assumed it was his secret girlfriend.

you two honestly didn't mind that dream posted the picture. it was fun when you two posted a dumb video announcing that you were in florida. it started with small subtle hints.

the first video started with you laying on their couch and patches laying on your chest.

"she's purring!" you coo softly, feeling your heart meltm

then it was of you talking about absolutely nothing while you walked around the parts of the house people had seen before.

"british people are so weird, you know? like, i was talking to one today. and he was just shitting on americans. but he lives here. so i obviously had to fist fight him. i won, obviously. and stole his sock to give to a house elf."

the last video was of sapnap finding you in his office, using his pc to play snake.

"i think george is in my office again," he said from behind the camera. he opened the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw you with a concentrated look on your face. "HEY!" the video cut with you looking up in pure fear.

all of those videos were posted to your account hours apart from each other, and your views felt like it was a slow coordinated attack to make them slowly go insane. with the first video, people were sure if it was patches. the second video made them believe it more so and they started going crazy. then the last video was the icing on the cake. it was filmed on your phone and posted to your accounts.

then, you had to stream together. and that was the definition of chaos.

"yn, move over."

"no?"

"youre sleeping outside then."

"what the fuck-"

'what's one thing you guys like about each other?' a donation read out.

you two sat there for a second, thinking. "hes..." you grimaced, trying to think of something

"she... is funny?" he said painfully.

"wait, i am funny," you said defensively.

"its pure crickets when you speak."

"okay-"

"wait, im you now," you said, laughing as you put on his headphones.

"you look nothing like me," he said, deadpanned.

"oh wait," you took them off again and ran out of the room. sap sat there completely confused before you came back in wearing his beige killua hoodie. then you put the headphones back on.

"you still dont-"

"what the fuck is this music?" you ask in complete horror from the sound coming from his headphones.

"is there something playing?" he asked, clicking his mouse around to find his spotify window.

"oh my god, is this cbat?"

"no, shut the fuck up, sage"

'i thought your name was actually sage?'

you both sat there in silence before laughing loudly.

"no he was just an ass."

"and you were just a bitch."

all you have to know is that a lot of edits and ship content came from that stream. and the future streams you did with the other two. and people loved that you were hanging out with the dream team now.

the longer you spent time together in person, the more you just wanted to be around each other he remembered being afraid to hug you, but now you were sitting next to each other on the couch watching movies alone.

it was a strange dynamic neither of you chose to acknowledge purely out of fear. but then it was hard not want to cuddle during movies or occasionally hold hands if you're walking together. so sap works up the courage to finally do something about it.

you're both once again, sitting in his room, on his bed, watching some random movie you found on hulu. you're resting your head on his shoulder, only really paying attention to how he's so close to you.

you look over when he sighs heavily. he looks down at you and, without thinking, leans down to kiss you. you sigh softly, feeling your heart soar. your reaction is almost immediate, and it gives sap the incentive to keep going.

when you pull away, you're looking at eachother with droopy eyes. your heavy breath hitting eachothers faces.

"i really like you, yn" he whispers quietly between breaths, looking down at your lips briefly.

you smirk, trying to catch your breath as well. "really?" you say before you lean back in, placing your lips on his.

i feel like there wasn't enough building onto them liking each other, but whatever. -nony

[mwapollo]

hello! quick question about your lore thing (and what would happen after) that you posted on tuesday-

do you believe any of the YHS and EVO stuff is affecting current HC9 Grian in any way? Like, anything he's done so far? Or has he moved on from the memories, the bad things, do you think?

(sorry if this is complicated lol- I'm just honestly curious)

hi! firstly, a big BIG thank you for the question, it absolutely made my day. the thought about someone enjoying the lore to the point where they want to go out of their way to know more warms my heart so much :) secondly, it's all connected. from YHS to HC9 and SL, it is a long story where previous decisions and experiences affect the present. Grian is in a constant growth as a character, so it is likely that YHS and EVO memories don't mean that much (like your memories from 6-8 years ago probably would), but he's human, after all, and we all use our past as a solid base where it comes to our actions and judgments. Grian is an anxious person (it is a fact about cc!Grian revealed by himself, so I think it can be implemented into the lore), and he's got an awful lot of bad experience from his first friendships, so-- in my opinion, it would be hard for him not to worry about his close friends now. it's like an emotional trauma, where the conflict might be gone, but the general view of the world stays. since you might want an example for this... do you remember the whole arc of rivalry with Doc?

the reason why Grian did everything what he did to Doc is because his friendship with Mumbo was involved-- in a very hurtful way. imagine having no good or kind friends in your past, meeting someone like Mumbo, doing everything to keep it all together even through all the tough stuff, wanting to be his one and only best friend and doubting wether you can even be considered one, and then... getting this punch in the face?

Grian was so stressed in this episode. he thought he's ruined everything, it was hard for him to speak after the entrance to Mumbo's base blew up. but he did not say a word about his emotions or his feelings: the only thing he said is that no one can play with their friendship.

you can see that Grian is a reserved person when it comes to emotional bounds, he rarely speaks about it to viewers or -- especially -- to the person directly. the only way to analyze it is through his actions. I think his lack of communication skills in terms of emotions might be something from YHS or EVO, where he swallowed all the bad stuff and hid all his weak spots from others. but he's still very protective of what he might have, and this is the part where everything with 'don't let them push you down' shows.

SORRY FOR MAKING SUCH A LONG ANSWER. I have a feeling that I barely said anything. I only wanted to give you one example of how it might show in the present just to calm your curiosity down a bit, but there is far more of what I can tell about this matter.

I think, either my co-author @bc-jpeg or I will write about S6-9 and Traffic Life SMP's in this lore. stay tuned!

while you're waiting, I recommend: 1. watching LL and LIL POV's from Martyn Inthelittlewood, and then his watchers' lore streams (links: the first, the second). It stems from EVO and it is the main theory for our lore, if you enjoy this nerdy stuff and haven't watched it yet, it is worth it! a lot of content in the fandom is based on it, too. 2. if you enjoy our lore, I suggest reading the otherside disc theory, there is someting about Grian and Mumbo too :)

[loverofpiggies]

Hey guys, I got something I’m ready to talk about under the cut. It’s super long! And it’s pretty serious, so feel free to scroll past. It’s also about some serious subject matter regarding transphobia, so if you’re not in a good place and ready to read about something like that, take care of yourself first and foremost. Okay?

Okay.

Hey guys, I’ve been doing a lot of self discovery these last few…. I guess technically my whole life, but I only got serious about focusing and working on it these last few years, and it has to do with my history of transphobia. I want to talk about my journey of growth, and what I’ve done to grow, and maybe it could help anyone else dealing with similar issues.

I was a pretty…. Hateful kid, to put it lightly. I was very angry, VERY angry, and obsessed over all this anger and hatred I had at everyone, but especially at myself. I’ve been in therapy as far back as I can remember, and more meds than I’d like to admit, trying to figure out what was ‘wrong’ with me. Which was a lot, by the way.

Anyway, around 2016, I got really serious about therapy. As a kid I didn’t take it seriously, but by 2016 I knew I needed help. I realized how my anger was ripping me apart, and how deeply it was rooted in hating myself. So, without therapy, and without the tools of therapy, I’d try to alter thoughts as they’d happen. I’d see someone dressed in a way I didn’t like? My thoughts immediately turned to hatred and judgementality. I taught myself to step back, and go, ‘hold on. You don’t know them. That’s a lot to assume about someone you’ve never talked to.’ and it helped curb a lot of my most angry and judgemental thoughts, at least, I thought so. In truth, all it did, was bury the issue, instead of addressing it.

Going into therapy seriously this time as an adult, I started unburying my own trauma, small bit by small bit. I started journaling a lot of it out, and my therapist put it best. Going to therapy is like trying to untangle a ball of paperclips. You might be like ‘ah, I just want to take this one paperclip out’ but it’s attached to so many other things you wouldn’t have guessed, and eventually you just. End up with the whole ball. You go to therapy for one ‘small’ thing, oops, you’re talking about this huge other thing that you never knew was related.

Also at this point, I was pretty serious about my spirituality. I was sick of being so angry and judgemental, I got deep into meditation and learning about compassion, because… well I lacked so much of it for so long. My favorite quote, that helped me grow the most, is “If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete” by Jack Kornfield. Another one I adore, is, “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” attributed to lots of people so I’m not actually sure who the original quoter is. If you watched a lot of my early streams, I was pretty obsessed with kindness and spirituality at that point! Half the time the streams turned into talks about that, lol. Sorry if that was a bit much, I was in a ‘place’ at that time.

After realizing how angry I was, and being so exhausted from it, I swung the opposite way pretty hard. I knew what it felt like to be angry and judgemental, and hurt people because of it. I’ve seen people I was very close to in my life, destroy relationships because of anger. And I was trying so hard to make up for it, to stop being so angry. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore, I didn’t want to hurt myself, and I wanted to be kind and understanding about perspectives I spent so long cutting off. And the therapy helped, a lot! I worked on a lot of deep issues, and my mind, more and more, started being less angry. I also got on meds, because we *finally* figured out what my issue was, and got me on the right medication. At least, once I got over my ‘I don’t need medication’ phase. Which was an absolute blessing.

I thought to myself, ah ha! Look at me, look at all this progress! I’m not angry or judgemental anymore. I’ve opened up so many doors, learned so many new things, I’m okay now, I don’t need any further help.’ With all the progress I had made, I really believed I didn’t need anymore work. The growth I made in just a couple years was astounding, and I wasn’t where I needed to be, but by this point I had the tools I needed to work on things myself. This was what I told myself anyway.

Also around this time, I was making my first close trans friends. And there was this weird, nasty feeling in my head, that I thought I had gotten past. These angry, judgemental thoughts cropped back up again, and they shocked me. I thought I was past this sort of anger, this judgementality. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, or look deeper. I didn’t want to think that I could be so mean again, especially after all the work and growth I put in. So, I shoved it away, as hard as I could. I didn’t want to see it, and I didn’t want to think about it.

The problem with trying to shove angry, and judgemental, hateful thoughts away, is they don’t actually go away. They stay, and force themselves out in other ways. They come back as ‘jokes’ or ignorant angry comments. They come out subconsciously, as a defensive reaction. But… I didn’t want to acknowledge that I might be transphobic, or have transphobic thoughts. I didn’t want to be angry. So when I’d ‘joke’, or make a comment, I’d feel ashamed, and try to bury it deeper. And deeper. And it just made it worse. I also used my therapy as a defense mechanism too, without realizing it. “I’m fine now, I’ve gone to therapy, I don’t need any more work, I’m fine!” So. I buried it. I think there’s a pattern here.

After years of therapy, you’d think I’d realize what was going on. I was trying to bury this, the way I tried to bury all my anger for so many years. I knew from experience, that burying the issue does not work, and just makes it so much worse in the long run. But, I didn’t actually realize I was burying it. I was so deep in my own denial, that I couldn’t see it. Because there was a lot of deep shame there, too. I had so many amazing trans friends, and the experiences they had dealt with by this time, JUST for being trans, horrified me. I never, *ever* wanted to be a source of pain for them. But I’d still make comments, or ‘jokes’. Then, I’d feel horrible, crushing guilt, and try to force that bad side of me down even further.

By this point, a good majority of my friend group was either trans, or non binary. I loved them so much, and didn’t want to acknowledge my issues, or the fact that I had thoughts that could hurt them. Eventually, one of my trans friends approached me, and my god, I’m so lucky to have them in my life. But they approached me, telling me “I know you don’t mean to hurt anyone. I think… maybe it’s time to talk to your therapist about this.”

And… they were right. I spent so much time in denial, once they said this to me, it clicked. Yes, I do need to talk to someone. I can’t live like this anymore. If compassion is as important to me as I’ve always said, I need to work on any parts of me that still hold anger. But I was also so terrified, after spending so long trying to avoid it, now I was going to open up to someone? And say whatever my thoughts were out loud? What if I couldn’t be fixed? What if I was destined to be hateful and angry forever, no matter how hard I worked? I didn’t want to hear my own thoughts. I didn’t want to see this awful side of me, after spending so long trying to ‘defeat it’. I didn’t even know how dark it got, and my mind conjured all sorts of nasty ideas of how ‘bad’ of a person I was.

So. I walked into my therapist’s office, and said… out loud. “I think I’m transphobic. And I hate it.” I’ll leave a lot of details out, because it’s pretty personal, but I’ll go over the important things I discovered. After she let me speak for a bit, we turned to my gender identity. She asked me things in detail. I’m a cis woman, so I didn’t think I had any issues with my gender identity, so her questions confused me, but deeper than that, they scared me. There was still something inside of me that wanted to fight back, to protect me from whatever was coming. But I pushed forward.

As we pulled apart the paperclips, and started getting to the root of my true, deeper issue, I started to realize something. See, I’m pretty confident and comfortable in my skin. At least, I believed I was. I told myself, anyway. In a similar vein as I used ‘compassion’ to shove away parts of myself I hated, I used ‘confidence’ to shove away the insecure parts of myself as well. Which, I mean, couldn’t be a more false version of confidence OR compassion if you ask me.

I started to realize that I had a deep insecurity about my own femininity. A deep, crippling insecurity. See, my face and body are pretty androgynous. With long hair, I can look like a girl, but with short hair I can look pretty boyish. I don’t have much of a figure, or a chest, so I can be mistaken for a boy under lots of circumstances. That, combined with the fact that tight clothes are uncomfortable for me, meant overall I looked very unfeminine. And I was bullied a lot for it, growing up. Kids would call me a boy. In highschool, I was made fun of a lot, too. I’d be made fun of for not looking like a ‘girl’. This was only one factor of my bullying at the time, like I mentioned before. I had a lot of pretty severe behavior issues, so it sorta made me a prime target for bullying. I wanted to be viewed as a girl, as a woman. But because my looks didn’t fit enough into their ‘boxes’, I was made fun of. I was laughed at, and I can’t tell you how often people would say things like ‘are you SURE you’re a girl down there?’.

And this was the smoking gun. I finally had the realization I needed. This is hard to write, but. Because I didn’t fit in the mold of what my peers thought a woman was, I felt guilt, and I felt shame. And I shoved it away. And realized… subconsciously, I was doing what was done to me, to my trans friends. To the trans community. And it hurt. It hurt so much, to realize what I was doing. But now it also made so much sense. The guilt, the trying to ‘play it off’, the avoidance, the burying. It was so painful to grow up with those comments, that my mind was trying to shove away and hide me from realizing I was continuing the cycle of pain.

Not only that, but in therapy I learned something else. I’m still working through this, but. I realized as well I have dysphoria, and some mild dysmorphia. The fact that I was perceived so differently then I felt about myself in my adolescence, followed me deeply into adulthood.

I realized that when I would have friends talk about dysmorphia, my defense mechanism would kick in, to avoid me thinking that I might have the same issue. In fact, all my defense mechanisms would kick in, to avoid me from reliving the bullying and the trauma.

And anyone who knows anything about therapy, knows how much this shit hurts. It hurts SO much to open up wounds you’ve tried to hide, to look in and see where the real issue lies. To realize that maybe you haven’t been as kind as you wanted, even if it wasn’t intentional.

But… after the tears, and the pain of reliving this, and ripping open all the doors I was trying to close, to shove away… there was relief. I finally knew what was wrong. And that I knew where to start working. How to start helping myself grow, and be better.

So many things clicked, and my issues with transphobia evaporated. Finally facing it, finally confronting it, and realizing the deeper sides of myself, took away all that power my anger was holding onto. I had to reteach myself that, ‘hey, thanks for trying to protect me, but I’m okay now. You don’t have to protect me anymore.’

I’m still working on my issues with my femininity. After realizing this, I went through my closet and got rid of everything that made me feel ‘unpretty’. I went thrift shopping, and found looser clothes that still made me feel like a girl. I’m slowly growing my hair out, to see if I’m happier with long hair, or happier with short. In truth, I’m rediscovering myself again. It’s easier to look in the mirror.

The defensive reactions went away. The ‘jokes’ disappeared, and I didn’t have to fight to bury anything anymore. And I could be the supportive friend I always deeply wanted to be. To push back at a society that doesn’t like people ever sitting outside specific ‘molds’. To help make a world be safer for anyone who doesn’t align with the mainstream idea of what being a person is. To what being a man, or a woman is. To being whatever a human is.

This has been very long. But. I wanted to go through the entire experience, every step, to show how I worked on myself. And how I grew, from this darker, angrier, unhappy version of myself. And that maybe it could help anyone else who’s had the same experience. I also wanted to go through all of this, to show the steps I’ve made. And to my trans and nonbinary friends? To all the people in the trans community that I may have hurt in the past? I’m sorry. Genuinely, and truly. I never wanted to be another source of pain, especially to trans people, who already experience so much discrimination.

This was a painful experience to go through, but one I definitely needed. I’m still journaling, working on my issues and working on becoming a happier me. I had to take my time to discover myself, and wanted to open up about my journey to yall. I was finally ready to talk about this.

Anyway. I hope you have a beautiful day, and I hope every day is happier than the last. Cheers yall.

[volpe-kitsune-red]

Reader who hides basically everything about themselves from everyone so Lynx has fallen for a carefully crafted facade, shenanigans ensue

I might have to think a bit harder for this one, hmm. Realistically Lynx would have noticed it during the early years of your friendship since I don't think 7 and 8-year-old kids are great master manipulators but for the sake of the ask let's say you guys have met a bit later in life when you have already meticulously crafted your personality.

Your lovely facade

Lynx Andromeda (Yandere oc) x reader

Her darling has hidden her real self from the world, from her, a thick veil of lies covering a mystery...can true love seep through the fabric?

CW. general yandere behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, angst.

She's never met the real you, in all those years spent together she only ever saw the mask you swore would never fall.

You were so perfect, too perfect perhaps. Her love must be the reason, she thought, she was so enamored she couldn't find a single defect in you...only small, odd cracks that sometimes shined through your persona. She was so happy when you would laugh in that one specific way, it felt so genuine and it always lasted a bit too long, it made her question if all those other times were even real, was it truly you?

She had her suspicions, yet she could never pinpoint exactly what you were hiding. Maybe you were just that charismatic and lovable. Never clumsy, never making mistakes, never stuttering...were you even human? A vampire? No, she would have felt it, and not even they could compare to your impeccability.

Then one day it happened. Something big must have been going on in your life, it stressed you out so much you just couldn't fake it as good anymore; the cracks became like foggy windows to her, and all it took was a closer peek for the house's foundation to crumble. No one else noticed but she, it was an eye-opener. How could she have been so blind? It was all an act, of course it was.

The person she loved was nothing but a mask, a carefully crafted facade meant to deceive...and be an intriguing challenge for her. Of course, she was hurt initially, how could you not trust her with the real you after all that time? I mean, she's been doing the same, hiding her true nature as a vampire and her incredibly manipulative plan to make you hers, but that was different, she had her reasons. She's not a hypocrite, not at all, why would anyone think that?

Either way, it was too late now, the recipient of her love might have been fiction but it's your destiny to be hers, so it'll just seep through until it reaches and finds its fated destination. 'You' wasn't real, but you still stuck with her through thick and thin even when she couldn't explain what was transpiring in her life, your friendship was real. She wants to love the underneath as much as the surface. It's as if a predatory instinct has arisen in her, a desire to tear every layer of defense you have at your disposal. She'll slowly chip away at your mask until your true self is naked and exposed to her, every weakness, every vulnerable spot, every embarrassing secret, she'll know it all. Even if you beg to be left alone, to just let you keep pretending, she'll relish in the fact that she's finally seeing your true colors, even if those colors are salty tears streaming down your face.

"Oh my dear, if you didn't want to be found, then you shouldn't have been hiding. It's in my instinct to chase and bite into those that escape."

If you are the total opposite of what you've shown yourself as, she won't care. She's worked hard and after the deep and meticulous analysis of your character and past, she'll feel even more compelled to own you. When someone makes a discovery, it's usually named after them, right? So it's only her right that you accept to marry her and take hers.

I loved this request, it made me think a bit more about Lynx's personality. It's been fun! Thank you for the request, hope you like it!

[katalyist]

This is my third time trying to explain my theory about Grian being a Watcher even before Evo so please someone stay with me.

We are all familiar with the «He was never meant to be there, he was only meant to watch» phrase (that didn't change my brain chemistry at all) right? Now, someone has always being... Odd about it, maybe the fact that is was the answer of «Why are you so sent on Grian?» that Martyn said. Everyone just kinda agree that it was refered to the life series, but what if the answer is that Grian wasn't supposed to be there even before? In Evo.

Because Evo Grian marks almost all the things of a watcher since... Day one? First, well, he was the admin so he had the power around the server, he was supposed to keep track of changing the versions (so he must have had a little bit of knowledge that the Watchers weren't that dangerous to let them participate in the changes of versions).

Second of all, he was very isolated from the rest of the members since the beginning, he was the one that lived further away from everybody else in a version where you couldn't run, there wasn't minecarts or horses or a way to get there quickly.

Third, he wanted to have access to everything. With the station to go from spawn to his base and the secret tunnels under it that were supposed to connect with everybody base (he abandoned the project pretty quickly but that isn't the point tho).

He has always been a prankster, but he hasn't never been the one that does the easy pranks, no, Grian send BigB to a journey with riddles and rhymes only to getting back to his base to activate a tnt trap. He make a treasure hunt with no treasure at the end (well technically it was but if you picked it, it would activate a trap). He trap his secret tunnels when they were compromised and told people to send comments to the other people on the smp tricking them to go see (poor Jimmy). And that isn't counting his multiple 'just tnt it' pranks. Also, he liked messing with people when they were streaming, when he could watch them.

He also didn't wanted to obey the Watchers, twisting their rules and breaking them, didn't the listeners say something about the Watchers thinking they are above everyone else? That they don't have to give explanations?

And one of the things that just scream Watcher behavior it's how he made a entire escape room for Taurtis to complete, with everything you could think, riddles, mind tests, rooms with puzzles... Just because he could and he wanted, just for his enjoyment.

If that isn't a Watcher thing at this point I don't know what it is! And it could explain in the Evo lore why he was so calm to go with the Watchers after defeating the dragon, he was even excited to have the opportunity to watch what all his friend were gonna do even if he wasn't there anymore.

So yeah, part of my theory says that he is a Watcher from the beginning, if he knew or not that's a different history. The important part is that:

He stayed. He is there.

Grian is a player (or at least pretending to be one) like the others, he participates like everyone else, the rules apply to him too. He wants the rules to apply to him he wants to be like everybody, even if that means pain, break promises, break friendships, even if it means that he is only surviving.

But his constant effort to connect, to stay present is not something that beggings in life series, as you might have noticed, it started in Evo. His nature competing with what he really wanted for the control.

Using the same examples to his Watcher behavior:

He isolate himself to almost inmediatly trying to find a way for people to visit. And when he finished most part of his base structure he abandoned it, he say something like "I want to be more close to spawn, I feel like I have no idea to what is happening there" and went there to build Evo town.

Most of the time he gave people something in return after a prank/situation that he feel unfair, when the property police blew up on accident he build a new one, and he always apologiezed.

After the Watchers punished him once he didn't break the rules and he warned Taurtis about not doing it. Even when he always found ways to twisted or steal from them.

In the game that he made Taurtis play it was a prize at the end: A cake, dumb, but a prize that seem fair and that he knew Taurtis was gonna like, and he didn't lie.

So maybe when They took him back he was excited at first, new things, to see, to learn, to explote. Maybe things he forgot completely.

But then there was the rules, watch but not participate, watch and create but never involve yourself with the players. Maybe They had the hope that teaching him again there ways was gonna make him stay, but we know Grian, he gets bored quickly.

So he escaped and now we are in the life series. I'm not gonna extend to much here, I reblog someone else talking about how Grian is making an effort to stay there instead of going back and the implications that it has about The Watchers moving everything just to make him miserable.

But why? Why they want him back? Why is he so important to them that he can't be replaced or forgotten to live like a player?

And here I add the popular theory/headcanon of Grian being the first player to become a Watcher. Because that makes him important to them, it makes him a success, something to study, to see how far he can go.

But he isn't cooperating with them, the worst of their character: Watchers always want to do things their way.

In conclusion: Grian as always been a Watcher and the Evo SMP proves it. How this impacts everything else? I don't know!

Thank you for reading, this is my third time writing this because i don't know where the drafts are (if you haven't notice I'm quite new to this Tumblr thing) and i lost two of my rants there.