#i’ve been reorganizing my closet and i wondered how many shirts i was up to

[thecryptidart1st]

When you realize that you have enough FNAF shirts, sweaters, and hoodies to wear for 2 weeks straight:

[writerfangirlbooks]

Bobby’s Daughter Part 2

Prompt: Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby Singer's daughter Part II: Imagine flirting and taking things to the next level with Dean before finding out one another's identity at Bobby's birthday party 

A/N: Or something like that! Hahaha. I'm back in college now for the next few months. I've got this story plot lined up and ready for action so be prepared for mostly Dean and Bobby's daughter for a while, but I'm still open for requests. I have some that keep getting lost that I continue to search for. Hope you are doing well! Long live Supernatural!  Word Count: 2200ish

Credit to gif owner!

Not enough hours later, you woke up.

An arm draped over your stomach sent all of last night's memories flooding back, explaining a few new certain aches and pains. You felt the need to roll over and stretch though it seemed your body was snug where you lay and prevented any movement. That didn't stop the man next to you, however. Dean must have sensed you shift because his hand moved lower down. You watched him go through the phases of waking from a hookup. First is the unknown, a sense of calm before trying to decipher your surroundings. Next was replaying the night's events. Lastly could be one of two things. Either an additional hookup or try to find yourself a less than an awkward excuse to leave.

Another hour later, you were leaving the shower and heard Dean call out with regret twinging in his voice. "Hey, sweetheart, I got a call and have to head out. I left my number on the desk." His voice trailed off as you stepped into the bedroom, the towel stuck to your drying skin. His eyes trailed your body, a light blush on his cheeks as remnants from the late night and early morning. Dean's voice was noticeably more hoarse when he spoke again after clearing his throat. "Well, I sure would enjoy seeing you again..."

"As you said, I have your number. I've got plans for the next couple of days, but we'll see if fate brings us to the same place and time once more," you said. You gave him a reassuring smile and a wink before walking to the closet for some clothes. Dean chuckled and he moved to be next to you. He drew you in for a deep kiss. The two of you parted once a car horn honked from outside. The ghost of the kiss hovered at your lips as his warmth left.

That was probably the best and strangest one-night stand you've ever had. Whether or not the phone number was for another hookup or a real date, you were inclined to call. You peeked out the window and saw Dean getting in the passenger's side of the car you were introduced to last night. You smiled to yourself as you got dressed, focusing on the events for the next few days. You grabbed one of your favorite travel shirts and baseball caps, a look your dad favored. Doing busywork was sure to get your mindset back on track.

You drove to the grocery store and mindlessly strolled down the aisles, adding veggies and meats to your basket. You grabbed a couple of birthday pies, a card, and a couple of gifts. You saw the local sheriff, Jodi Mills, and felt a pang of empathy. She had recently lost her family. She was on the phone as she walked to the back of the store. You made sure to add some beer and margarita mix to the cart before heading to the checkout. Once you had it ready, you figured mid-afternoon would be the best time for the surprise and headed to his house, parking in the back near the garage. You grabbed the bags and keys to get inside the house.

Inside the house was quiet except an old western movie playing on the television. You set the bags down with a thud on the kitchen table and heard a holler. "What in-" Your dad's voice rang out. You laughed quietly before raising your voice, alerting him to your presence.

"It's me!" You yelled with a laugh. Bobby huffed and took his hat off before placing it back again, though he was smiling. He dropped his shotgun, setting it against the doorframe. The pair of you embraced quickly and happily. "How are you doing, old man?"

"Well, I'm still kicking, so there's that. Glad to see you," he said. "What are you going here? Not that I'm complaining." Bobby walked over and saw the beer box, eagerly grabbing it and setting it in the fridge. You began to take out the foods and place them along on the countertop, re-energized.

"Your birthday is coming up, so I figured I would hang around for a while, spend some time with you," you told him. You hiked the collar of your jacket up in order to hide the red spots on your shoulder and collarbone. Your dad began to help you, mostly focused on the desserts. You grabbed the bag that had his gift, patted him on the back, and skipped off to one of the rooms to hide it. When you returned, the veggies were already in a bowl and the stove was on.

"How nice of you to clear your very busy schedule to hang out with this ol' man," he remarked sarcastically. You heard a car pull up to the front yard and beep. You turned curiously towards your dad.

"You know I always have time for you. Funnily enough, I think there's a case nearby. Who's out front?" You asked, trying to see past the window curtains. Bobby glanced around but didn't seem surprised.

"Did you find somewhere to stay or are you wanting to stay here? You know I'm always happy to have you. And out there? It's just some kid hunters I help on cases, they spend lots of time here. Surprised you all haven't been here at the same time before. Would you go get the spatulas from upstairs and the oldest edition of the vampire encyclopedia from the bookshelf in your old room?" Bobby questioned.

You let out a scoff of a laugh. "Sure thing. Glad I bought extras!" You went to your room first and spent some time searching for the book. It appeared the room had been reorganized quite a few times over the past decade. You gazed around, noticing your first hunting knife, and even some of your report cards. You could tell you weren't the last one to sleep in this bed, however. You could hear footsteps enter the house and two voices call for Bobby, the deepness causing you to realize they weren't actually kid hunters, which were teens usually on the run looking for fights. Once you finally found the book, you headed upstairs in search of the spatulas. There were way too many random boxes and shelves to search through. You wondered why there weren't any in the kitchen already.

Surprisingly, you could smell the food cooking downstairs and it made you realize how much time you had spent searching. Another fifteen minutes later, you doubted the spatulas would be of much use if the food was nearly ready. You moved back to the top of the stairwell and could hear the conversation. At first, a voice you didn't recognize sped adamantly through their findings. Bobby interrupted, focusing on the subject of food, and asked the other to let find his daughter and let you know that dinner was almost ready. The lower voice obliged and you could hear him heading your way. Your hair fell down your face as you began to head down the stairs. Moving it behind your ears, you glanced up and stilled, not even halfway down.

Standing at the bottom was Dean.

His mouth was parted in surprise. Green eyes gazed up at you, wide with disbelief. You stared for a few more moments before quietly walking down and past with a smirk. He lightly pulled you back before you made it out of the hallway.

"Wait a second. You're Bobby Singer's daughter?" Dean asked, almost in awe. His arm was still touching yours.

"Looks like I should have called sooner," you responded. Searching his face for his thoughts did not work as expected. He was confused more than anything, but the light behind his eyes hadn't changed.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and let his arm fall to his side. He glanced around to see if Bobby or the person with him were coming. When it was clear they weren't, Dean turned back to you, unsure of what to do. Once again, another first for him, you were sure. His tongue ran involuntarily over his lower lip and you took that as your cue to wrap your hands around his neck and press your lips to his. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you close. All too soon, the two of you stepped away and headed into the kitchen where you saw a tall man with long hair setting plates on the dining table. Bobby glanced up from the sink.

"There you are, Y/N. I'm hoping Dean was at least half a gentleman and bothered to introduce himself. This is Sam, his brother. You might remember their dad, John Winchester. Now, let me see that book," your dad requested.

You took a small breath and smiled at your dad, passing him the book. "Yeah, uh, Dean introduced himself." You cast him a glance and he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you. You turned to the brother.

"Hi, Sam. Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N," you said. He gave you a polite smile and shook your hand.

"So what's the occasion?" Sam asked. He cleared his throat and gestured at the table.

You raised your eyebrows and turned to Bobby who gave a slight shake of his head. You frowned and faced the brothers, sharing with them that your dad's birthday was in a few days, so you were making a celebratory dinner. Bobby huffed and grumbled under his breath before grabbing the main course and setting it on the frequently unused table. The table technically could have seated six, but as there were four of you, the brothers sat together across from you and Bobby. Despite Dean's glances your way, he stayed relatively quiet as you ate, letting the others focus on the case. Dean's foot accidentally nudged yours, leading to a silent game of footsies. Sam and Bobby were distracted by trying to find the proper spell to undo whatever was going on. You weren't as interested in hunting at this very second. At one point, a sauce was spilled on the page the guys were reading. All at once, they began to apologize.

"No worries, I know how to clean it," you said, carefully grabbing it and heading to the bathroom for the cleaning supplies. Dean excused himself to help search and followed you into the bathroom.

"Pardon me, sweetheart, but what the hell is going on?" He asked softly, still bewildered by the discovery. The door was wide open and you two had a small view of the kitchen though they couldn't see in. You sighed and crouched below the sink to find the proper supplies. It seemed things were rearranged every time you were here.

"You're going to need to be more specific," you said into the drawers.

"How are you Bobby Singer's daughter? I knew he had a kid, but... And no disrespect to the old man, but you are much hotter than he is," Dean admitted. You found what you were looking for and which each object, handed it to Dean, who stared at each one uncertainly.

"Dean, both of these things are very simple. Cleaning this book is easier than changing a tire. Just pour a small bit of the white bottle onto the towel, mix it with the other one, then dab at it and wipe. For the other thing, a long time ago, Bobby and Karen got married and decided to cons-" Dean cut you off, trying to hide a smirk as he followed your instructions.

There was an outline of the liquid left on the page, but after a little more work it eventually disappeared, and the rest would dry soon, you decided. Dean said, "I know how people are created, Y/N, no need to be cute. I guess I'm just surprised that you're a hunter, more so after our talk last night, and especially after how Bobby always praised his kid's good work in school."

The two of you were standing very close in this small bathroom that now reeked of cleaning supply and you wanted to leave the room, but not the moment. Dean began to put the objects away once you confirmed the book was clean. "I'm always cute, Dean. And sure, I did well in school. Why make life harder than necessary? I use what I was taught to make money when I'm not hunting, but it's clearly in my blood, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dean appeared taken aback. "Whoa, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you're a great hunter. And an honest living? Admirable, seriously."

He leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. "Let's get back before they get suspicious and Bobby tries shooting me."

You only laughed in response.

- 

Wattpad/Pinterest: writerfangirlbooks

Tags: @akshi8278​ 

[allmidaddies]

woke up in 1.

Summer had arrived and that meant weddings, weddings, and more weddings. It wasn’t normally like this, it was just that everyone that you had ever crossed paths with in your entire life had decided to get married that summer.

 Well, everyone except Mat it seemed. Which you were grateful for because it meant that you had another single soldier to drink with at the open bar at each of these events.

The two of you had been out in New York over the past four years, arguably the worst place to find love. Or even anything remotely close to love. You had dated people on and off over the years but they all ended more or less the same way. The flame died as quickly as it had sprouted, they had too many cooks in their kitchen, or your personal favorite, Mat ran them off before the second date. He claimed that as your best friend he would be able to determine whether or not the guy was right for you and apparently none of them had been deemed worthy enough because they were almost always sent running for the hills within a matter of days of meeting Mat.

 In Mat’s case, he spent so much time on the road that anything more serious than a casual hook up that never went more than three nights was considered too much of a commitment. You couldn’t blame the kid though to be fair. He was always honest about his intentions from the very beginning and was as gentlemanly as one could be in a situation like that. You still encouraged him to try dating but he always brushed you off and changed the topic before you could even realize he was changing the topic.

 But this summer you were grateful that he had never bothered to take your advice because it meant you could drag him along as your date and he could take you as his, effectively silencing any relatives or old friends from asking about your relationship status. At least, that was the hope. The coming weekend was a trial run to see how the rest of the summer may unfold.

 A long time friend of yours, and a training buddy of Mat’s, was getting married on Saturday at a lake house outside of Vancouver. It meant that both of you were invited to not only attend the wedding but stay in the guest house with a few other friends. Which is what Mat was “helping” you pack for currently.

 You rifled through the collection of dresses you had acquired in preparation for the wedding season ahead. Mat had done nothing but chirp you for how much money you had spent on the different options, all followed by him bragging on how he hadn’t spent a single dime.

 “In my defense, you already own more suits than I own dresses” you argued, sifting through your closet in search of the particular dress you were wearing the coming weekend. Mat was stretched out on your bed and had been chirping you since you let him inside.

 “Yes but my suits are investments. What are you going to do with all of these dresses after you wear them?” Mat asked, tucking his hands behind his head as he leaned against your pillows.

 “Maybe you’ll have to invite me to more events with you and I’ll have excuses to wear them,” you smirked, finally pulling the one you’d been looking for and zipping it into a garment bag.

 “Stop trying to trick me into a date,” Mat teased. You rolled your eyes as you began pulling other clothes to pack for the weekend.

 “You should be so lucky as to date me.”

 Mat laughed, the sound echoing off of the walls in your room,

 “I would be a lucky guy. But you said I’m too annoying to do more with than friend zone. If I remember correctly.”

 You bit the inside of your cheek, the conversation that led to that flashing through your mind. You had only been teasing, and maybe slightly drunk as well, when you told Mat that he was in the friend zone. It was somewhat of a truth but more than that it was a lie. Mat was your best friend and you didn’t want anything to ruin that. However, it was hard to deny that Mat was practically the unit of measurement that you used to evaluate every guy that you dated. You compared everything in a prospective mate to Mat. Their hair, their style, their laugh, their intelligence, their charm, their smile, etc. And nobody ever measured up. At least not completely. Sure, you’d been on dates where the person on the other side of the table had a degree in something ridiculously hard like chemical engineering that surely had more literal intelligence than Mat. But it was never the same and it was never the whole package.

 It continuously baffled you that Mat hadn’t found the love of his life yet. How could someone so charming and successful have such a hard time finding someone who was the perfect match? He certainly had no shortage of beautiful women in his life. You often wondered if maybe he had met the one already but he was so focused on hockey that he didn’t even notice.

 “That’s rather unfortunate for you,” you quipped, swatting Mat’s hand away as he kept removing items of clothing from your suitcase.

 “Actually I think in this case it is rather unfortunate for you. I would make a great boyfriend,” Mat shrugged.

 “Except for the fact that you don’t want to be somebody’s boyfriend,” you laughed. Mat could only grin up at you, knowing you were right. He really wasn’t looking for a girlfriend at the moment. There were too many other stressors for him with contract negotiations and wondering whether or not he was going to need to be packing up his apartment in New York in the next few months.

 Just as you added a pair of folded sweats to the suitcase Mat pulled them out again, making you groan in annoyance.

 “I swear to god it’s like having a toddler,” you muttered, finally moving the suitcase to the floor while Mat laughed.

 “I just don’t think you need to pack sweats. It’s supposed to be 85 all weekend and we’re going to be at the lake.”

 “You also think I don’t need to pack this shirt to sleep in? Or any of my underwear?” You asked, hands on your hips as you gestured towards the other stack of clothes Mat had pulled from your suitcase.

 “I’m not opposed,” Mat smirked, earning him a smack in the face with a throw pillow.

 It was nothing new. Mat’s teasing. He made it clear to you that he found you attractive. Whether it was complimenting how your ass looked in certain pairs of jeans or hyping you up on your Instagram, Mat was open about how hot he thought his best friend was. And it never bothered you, it was nice to feel appreciated. Especially on days when you weren’t feeling your best. Mat was always there to remind you of how beautiful he thought you were.

 “Have you even started packing?” You asked, reorganizing everything in your suitcase so you had room for your makeup.

 “Nope,” Mat sighed, “But I know that I’ll need my suit and my swim trunks. And that’s about it.”

 “You’re going commando?” You teased. Mat grinned down at you,

 “And lucky for you we’re sharing a bed so you’ll have easy access.”

 Because you and Mat had announced that you were going together, your friends had put the two of you in the same room. Which undoubtedly meant you would be sharing a bed. Which, you had only ever done on extremely drunk occasions where you were afraid Mat would throw up in his sleep or Mat thought you might try and sneak out to hook up with the latest guy who had hurt your feelings. So, sharing a bed while sober would be an experience to say the least.

 “It’ll be a struggle but I think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself,” you winked at Mat as he sat up, watching you tuck the last of your things into your bag.

 “I really should go pack, huh?” Mat sighed, clearly not wanting to engage in the responsibility.

 “Well, considering it’s now almost 9:30pm the night before we need to leave,” you held up your phone for him to see the time, only for him to let out another groan.

 “Hey, you said it won’t take you that long,” you teased. Mat stood up, grabbing his keys from your dresser and slipping his phone into his back pocket.  

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? I’m picking you up at 9.”

 You nodded, glancing at him over your shoulder as he opened your bedroom door,

 “Please pack something to sleep in!”

 “I’ll consider it!”

 ~

 The area where the wedding was taking place was gorgeous. Driving up to it you drove along miles of tree lined roads. You had completely zoned out of the conversation that Mat was having with Tyson in the front, too busy staring out the window to pay them any mind. They’d spent the entire drive singing to the Mamma Mia soundtrack, reminding you exactly why you should have never shown them that movie. Definitely ruined it for you.

 “We’re almost there can we please put something else on? I’ve been so patient,” you whined, leaning forward against the center console and pouting up at Tyson who was controlling the aux.

 “What! You don’t like being serenaded by us?” Tyson asked, mocking offense as he clutched his chest.

 “Not for two hours,” you muttered under your breath, reaching for his phone and successfully snatching it from his hands. Tyson reached for it but you sank into the backseat and scrolled through his Spotify to find something else to listen to for the remainder of the drive, grinning victoriously.

 “Please play Nickelback!” Mat begged from the driver’s seat.

 “God no!” Tyson leaned back against the headrest.

 “I’ll allow it,” you smirked, poking your tongue out at Tyson as he glared at you.

 “This is why you’re my favorite,” Mat caught your eye in the rearview mirror. Tyson muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch over the sound of the song but whatever it was earned him a smack on the arm from Mat.

 You furrowed your brows, looking at Mat again but he just shook his head, an easy smile on his face as he started singing along to Rockstar.

 When he finally pulled in the driveway of the wedding venue you gasped, sliding over to the window and watching the house come into view.

 “Oh my god!” You breathed, “This is stunning.”

 “She’s already getting ideas,” Tyson teased, jutting his thumb out at you. Mat couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was going to be hearing about it all summer. You had always fantasized about your dream wedding. The details were always changing but he knew that you had a Pinterest board full of inspiration and there was no doubt in his mind that come September you would have an album on your phone with pictures captured from the weekends of celebration.

 “We’ll see who’s teasing who when it comes time for you to get married and your fiance is stressed because you have no input on the wedding, Josty,” you chirped, tousling his hair as Mat pulled in to park. Tyson barely had time to swat your hand away before you were unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. The boys watched as you ran down the pathway that led to the dock.

 It was still only mid-morning but the sun was already high in the sky, reflecting off of the still water and making it glitter. Even with the surrounding houses and properties it was still quiet. There were a few other cars in the driveway but you knew that there were only a handful of people apart from the bridal party that were staying in the house.

 You were so lost in thought, admiring all of the views around you that you didn’t hear Mat’s footsteps on the dock behind you until he was right there, arms scooping you up.

 “Mat no!” You shrieked, immediately clinging to his neck. If he was going to throw you in then he was going to be right there with you. Mat stood on the end of the dock and held you over the water, smirking down at you,

 “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

 You scowled,

 “I wouldn’t put it past you Barz. You’ve done far worse to me.”

 Mat threw his head back laughing, thinking back to the times he’d accidentally made you trip into a mud puddle, or has thrown up on your shoes after drinking too much, or the time he gave you a black eye after not warning you that he was popping the bottle of champagne.

 “I won’t,” he grinned, turning and setting you down on your feet, “At least not yet.”

 You steadied yourself on his shoulder, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes.

 “I don’t know why I ever thought to trust you,” you teased, letting him pull you back towards the house so you could get your bags.

 It didn’t take long for you to be donning your bikini and for your friends to be pouring you drinks. You had a feeling you were going to be drunk until the next morning, knowing the crowd you were with.

 “Tyson if you don’t put sunscreen on you will burn, I don’t care that you have a ‘base tan,’ you’re going to look like a lobster if you don’t,” you scolded, trying not to laugh as Tyson flopped face first onto the bed in yours and Mat’s room.

 “But it makes my skin so sticky,” his words were muffled by the comforter and you rolled your eyes, taking the opportunity to squirt sunscreen onto his back. Tyson shrank into the mattress, whining about how cold it was.

 Mat emerged from the bathroom, now in his swim shorts, eyeing you as you crawled over the bed to kneel beside Tyson.

 “I feel like I am walking into something I shouldn’t be.”

 “You are,” Tyson said, causing you to roll your eyes, “We’d like a little privacy please.”

 “Tyson shut up,” you continued rubbing sunscreen on his back while Mat pulled his suit from his bag and hung it in the closet.

 As soon as you were done with Tyson he was jumping up from the bed and all but sprinting out of the room.

 “Don’t get in the water for thirty minutes!” You shouted after him, Mat chuckling beside you.

 “He didn’t hear any of that,” Mat laughed.

 “Useless,” you scoffed, grinning up at Mat. You pretended like you didn’t notice that he was now shirtless, golden tan and firm chest staring right back at you.

 “You’ve been working out,” Mat smirked as you stood up from the bed, eyeing you as you bent down to pick up your discarded clothes off of the floor.

 “I have to keep up with you somehow,” you winked at him, reaching for the door when he caught your elbow.

 “Ah ah ah,” he clicked his tongue at you, “You do me and I’ll do you.”

 A brief moment of confusion washed over you but then you realized he was holding the sunscreen bottle in his hand. Unfortunately that moment didn’t go unnoticed by Mat, who was grinning like a cheshire cat,

 “What?”

 “Get on the bed,” you narrowed your eyes at him, not wanting to let him win this one. Now it was Mat’s turn to swallow thickly, cockiness wavering slightly as he let you push him onto the mattress.

 By the time you were fully lathered in sunscreen you were sweating, and it wasn’t from the sun beating down on the lake. There was no ignoring the feeling of Mat’s muscles underneath your fingers and the suggestive comments he kept throwing in your direction. You should be used to it by now but some days he could wind you up tighter than others. The part that made it worse was that you now had to watch him parade around all day in his swim shorts and then crawl into bed with him in the evening. Well, that and the fact that he could say all of these things in passing and then any comment you threw his way only made him stutter for a second and then he was over it. You wished you could deflect the same way, but you couldn’t help it. You were the one daydreaming about finding the love of your life and with Mat possessing so many characteristics that you were looking for, it didn’t take much for him to invade your thoughts.

 You picked your drink up off of the nightstand and headed down the hall to join everyone else outside. Mat was slow to follow you, saying he’d catch up with you in a minute.

 “Took you long enough,” Tyson teased, grinning when he saw you walk out onto the porch.

 “Stop being an instigator,” you muttered, shoving him playfully before leaning into your friend to give her a congratulatory hug.

 “I have the perfect guy for you to meet, Y/N,” Jasmine beamed at you. Tyson raised his eyebrows beside you but you didn’t notice, you were too busy giving Jasmine the same reaction.

 “Oh really? You’re playing matchmaker for me at your own wedding?”

 “Mhm and you can’t stop me because I’m the bride,” she grinned.

 “You know I have a date, right?” You appreciated the fact that she was thinking of you but it felt inappropriate to be pursuing someone when you had promised Mat that you’d be in this together. At least...that’s what you would tell everyone else.

 “Mat doesn’t count,” Jasmine rolled her eyes, “Unless of course you have something you’d like to share with the group.”

 Tyson stifled a laugh, covering it by taking a drink of his beer. You felt your skin get hot as you rolled your eyes. At that moment, Mat emerged from the house, looking more relaxed and calm than he had when you walked out of the bedroom.

 “Hey, congrats Jas,” Mat grinned, interrupting the conversation. You glared at Tyson, having not missed his quiet chuckle. He held his hands up in defense but couldn’t manage to wipe the smirk away.

 “Thanks Barz, hey let me run something by you,” she grinned and you bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly interested in the drink you were holding.

 “What’s up?”

 “So I’ve got this friend who I think would be perfect for Y/N, you don’t mind if I introduce them at the wedding tomorrow, right?” Jasmine asked, feigning innocence as she looked up at Mat.

 “Why-” Mat began to ask but he stopped himself, shaking his head and forcing a smile, “Yeah, I don’t care. I’m not her gatekeeper.”

 You took a long sip of your drink. Tyson cleared his throat, patting your shoulder and nodding towards the grass,

 “Let’s go play cornhole.”

 Your shoulders sagged in relief, barely glancing in Mat’s direction as Tyson pulled you away.

 Mat watched the two of you walk off before looking down at Jasmine.

 “Who’s the friend?”

 Jasmine smirked,

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 Mat scoffed, knowing exactly what she was insinuating,

 “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I would. You know, considering she’s my best friend and all.”

 “Oh right, best friend, nothing more, never thought of her as anything other than that,” Jasmine teased. She was pushing his buttons and she knew it but she’d known Mat just as long as you had and wasn’t afraid of his stubbornness.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mat ran his fingers through his hair, staring out at you laughing with Tyson.

 “If you really don’t have a problem with me introducing her to my friend I’m going to do it,” Jasmine said, “But if you do, just say the word and I’ll have your back Barzy.”

 ~

 That evening after everyone else had crawled into bed in preparation for the following day, you hung back and made yourself a cup of tea. You tried to be as quiet as possible, turning off the stovetop before the kettle started to whistle. There was no noise from the city to drown you out so you felt as though your movements were amplified, echoing off of the high ceilings. The sun had long since set but the sky was clear and all of the stars were out so you wandered out onto the back porch.

 It was slightly chilly so you were glad you had packed sweatpants, but apparently Mat had also pulled your hoodie from your suitcase so you stole one of his before making yourself comfortable on the deck.

 It didn’t take long for company to join you in the form of a very tired Mat. He was holding a mug in his hands, pressing it against his bare chest to feel some sort of warmth since you had nabbed his hoodie.

 “Thief,” he muttered, voice deep and gravelly, clearly indicating that he was in need of sleep. It had been a long day of drinking and time in the sun, making everyone tired. Mat’s voice was particularly rough because he’d been out on the boat with the guys for the better half of the day, attempting to wakeboard, shouting over the roar of the engine.  

 “I had packed one but somehow it’s not in my suitcase,” you looked at him knowingly, sitting up and wrapping your arm around his shoulders while he laid down on the bench, head resting against you.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mat hid his smirk behind his mug.

 “What are you still doing up? I thought you’d be dead asleep by now,” you noted. Mat grumbled,

 “Yeah well the bed is lonely without you.”

 “Not even one night in and you’re already clingy,” you teased, Mat reaching out to mess your hair in response.

 The two of you fell quiet, admiring the stars and secretly hoping you’d see a shooting star. Mat had Jasmine’s words running through his mind, wondering if he should say anything to you. He tilted his chin so he could look up at you. The moonlight was making your skin glow and while you had your glasses on he could tell that your eyes were glittering in the night.

 “Are you excited to meet your potential suitor tomorrow?” Mat teased, deciding to rip off the bandaid. You snorted, looking down at him,

 “Not really.”

 Mat’s ears perked up.

 “Why not? I thought you were on the hunt for the love of your life?”

 His tone was teasing but he was dying to know the answer, now fully invested.

 “I don’t think the love of my life is Jasmine’s college friend who works as an accountant. No offense to people who work in finance but I’ve never met an accountant with a personality,” you sighed.

 Mat laughed loudly, earning a shush from you before he woke the entire house.

 “But I don't know. I mean, maybe I’ll let her introduce us. There’s no harm...right?”

 Mat shrugged, not having much to say to that.

 “I just don’t want to waste my twenties with the wrong person. And I don’t know I guess I always envisioned I’d meet someone in a more romantic or interesting way,” your hands found Mat’s hair and you began threading them through his locks.

 “I think a wedding is a pretty romantic place to meet someone,” Mat countered. You hummed in agreement,

 “I just always thought by now I would have met someone and we would be well on our way to falling in love and thinking about starting a life together.”

 “You have time left,” Mat said gently.

 “I know,” you sighed, “But it would be nice to have that security I guess. Maybe I’m going about it all wrong, thinking about it too much.”

 Mat gave you a look that said, ‘duh, you think about it way too much.’

 “Hey,” you frowned, “Just because you don’t think about it at all-”

 “I think about it,” Mat defended, laughing.

 “Mhmm, sure.”

 Mat stared up at you as you continued to look out over the water. Before he realized what he was doing he was speaking out loud, prompting your attention.

 “How about this?” He sat up so he could look at you properly.

 “Mat, what are you plotting?” You laughed, halting your movements and raising your eyebrows at him.

 “What do you say we make a deal?” Mat asked, cocking his head to the side.

 “About what?”

 “If neither one of us is married by the time we’re thirty we’ll get hitched,” Mat shrugged. You threw your head back laughing, not thinking he was serious. You dodged the hand that swung out to hit your shoulder, catching his wrist.

 “Hey!”

 “Don’t laugh,” he whined, though his own laughter was spilling through his words.

 “You’re not serious,” you giggled, trying to suppress your laughter, “Besides thirty is still young.”

 “Well yeah but if you’re thinking kids and stuff you don’t want to wait too long,” Mat said.

 “Oh so we’d have kids in this deal?” You teased.

 “I want kids,” Mat was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, “And I know you want kids.”

 “Mat you can’t be serious about this,” you laughed airly. Mat cracked a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes,

 “It’s just a back up plan. I’m not saying you’re not going to find the one somewhere down the road, but if we find ourselves in the same situation in the next ten years then why not?”

 “You’re my security?” You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell just a little bit.

 “Yeah,” Mat grinned, “I’ll be your security. Besides, I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in you. I think you’re going to be an awesome mom.”

 “You’ve thought about this,” you teased, watching Mat blush. He had thought about this. More times than he would care to admit. He had seen you through every phase in your life and he had never thought to imagine going through marriage or starting a family without you. But, he knew that there was a guy out there waiting for you that could give you things he couldn’t. Like stability and time. Not to mention far, far less stubborn. So if being your backup plan, or plan b, was the best he was going to get then he’d settle for that. Because it meant he wasn’t totally out of the race.

 “Unless of course you’ve already got yourself a back up?” Mat joked. You rolled your eyes,

 “Yeah, actually Tyson asked me yesterday.”

 Mat laughed,

 “I knew it.”

 “Do we shake on it?” You asked, a smile on your face. Mat couldn’t control his smile as you stuck your hand out to him.

 “Only if you want to.”

 “If I’m going to have a back up plan it should be a pretty damn good one right?” You shrugged. Mat chuckled, nodding.

 “Besides, we’ll still be dating other people, well-you’ll be hooking up with other people and I’ll be dating,” you teased, Mat rolling his eyes, “There’s no harm in it. Right?”

 “Right,” Mat affirmed but he didn’t believe it.

 No harm in you finding someone else to fall in love with that wasn’t him...as if.

 “So how was it?” Jasmine teased you, bumping your hip as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You glared in her direction, too tired and uncaffeinated to be having this conversation.

“Don’t give me that look,” she smirked, settling onto the barstool across from you.

 “I know it’s your wedding day and all but I reserve the right to not comment on the subject,” you lifted your chin at her, giving a smug smile. She laughed, throwing her head back and making her bun flop to the side.

 “I’m serious Jas!” You whined, rolling your eyes.

 “At least tell me it wasn’t awkward or anything right?” Jasmine asked, sipping her own coffee. You purse your lips, thinking back to the night before when you and Mat had finally crawled into bed.

 After the two of you shook on your agreement, you stayed out on the porch for another hour or so. Until Mat’s mug was cold and he had goosebumps all across his arms. You felt a little guilty for having taken his hoodie but you wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t been such a pest while you were packing. By the time you were getting into bed you were so exhausted that you didn’t have the energy to worry about the fact that it was the first time you were sharing a bed with Mat sober.

He had asked if it bothered you if he slept in just his boxers, swearing up and down that it was totally okay if you wanted him to keep his sweats on. You told him it was fine, especially considering all you were wearing was a pair of underwear and a large t-shirt. Just because you were sleeping with Mat didn’t mean you were going to change what you wore to bed. He wasn’t that special. You had opened the window, letting the cool fresh air in, in preparation for the unavoidable heat that came with two people sharing a room. The last thing you wanted was to wake up sweating because Mat was a human radiator.

“It’s cold,” Mat frowned, still having not totally warmed up from coming inside.

“You’re such a baby,” you rolled your eyes, making yourself comfortable under the covers.

“I think my balls are in my stomach,” he muttered under his breath. You grabbed the pillow on his side and smacked him with it across the stomach, nearly knocking him back.

“Hey!”

“Just get into bed if you’re cold,” you laughed, “Standing there in your boxers isn’t going to make you any warmer.”

Mat said something you couldn’t make out under his breath as he slid underneath the comforter. You reached over and turned off your lamp, the whole room going dark. Just as you fluffed your pillow and got comfortable on your back, Mat was scooting up beside you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, biting back your laughter.

“You’re warm and I’m cold,” Mat said as if that explained everything, “Now cuddle me before I get hypothermia.”

“You’re not going to get hypothermia in the middle of summ-”

“Y/N.” Mat’s tone was flat and you knew you weren’t winning the argument.

“Fine,” you huffed, “But I’m the little spoon.”

Even in the dark you could tell he was smiling down at you. The bit of lumination from the window was making his eyes sparkle and you cursed him for still being attractive when he was grumpy.

You shifted onto your side and Mat curved his body around yours. Almost too perfectly. His arm wrapped around your waist and pressed his chest against your back.

“Fuck,” he laughed quietly, “Your feet are ice cubes.”

“They’re always like that,” you hummed. Mat nudged your feet away from his own,

“How are you not cold but your feet are like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should honestly get that checked out, you probably have low iron,” he continued.

“Mathew if you don’t shut up in the next ten seconds I will make you sleep outside with no blanket, then we’ll see how cold you are,” you snapped. Mat chuckled, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

[hearthandhomewitchery]

A Witch Watches: Tidying Up with Marie Kondo

First, I’ve decided to shorten this to A Witch Watches, because really HGTV is a wasteland at this point and I rarely watch it anymore.   But there are lots of great home/garden/cooking shows elsewhere I want to talk about.

Second, anyone who follows my blog knows my absolute disdain for minimalism and might therefore suspect that I would absolutely hate this show.  They might look at the clutterbitch and cottagecore that makes up a good part of my feed and wait gleefully for me to rip into her.

Well, they would be wrong. 

I have to admit, I wasn’t too interested in her book when it came out and had really little interest at first in the show.  I had watched shows like Hoarders and Clean House enough to know that they were always a bit painful for me to watch.  It was always the same--some well-meaning “organization expert” asking some poor soul when was the last time they used something or wore something and then tossing into a sell or throw out pile, while you could see the person’s heart break just a little.

However, the buzz around the show grew and grew.  And it was, indirectly, related to the stuff I talk about here.  So I figured I would give it a go, steeling myself for more misery, prepared to hate it.

I loved it! SO MUCH!

But before talking about why I love it, I want to address why I think she’s gotten so much hate.  First, there is a very racist/xenophobic component that lots of others have addressed much better than I could.

The other is that early on the whole minimalism “movement” latched on to her as one of their own.  For those who find the movement classist and cruel, it is easy to dismiss anyone associated with them as the same.  Even I made that mistake in my post on Clutter vs. Junk.

While Kondo’s personal aesthetic is minimalist, that isn’t her purpose.  Her method is about learning to connect to the things you do have and be thoughtful about them.  I found her approach was much more in line with my own approach than what I had previously come across.

So onto what I love about Marie Kondo:

Emphasis on the spiritual connection to our homes and belongings.

Kondo starts every session by kneeling on the floor, spending time connecting to house and asking permission to tidy it up.  She encourages her clients to thank the items they are removing.  There is throughout the show and emphasis on the energy the items we surround ourselves with and how it affects us.  Hearth and home witchcraft places a special emphasis on our spiritual connection to our homes.  I’ve previously pointed to the Japanese cultural connection to the home and its spiritual connotations when talking about my Ghibli influences.  So, it was nice to see Kondo try and introduce the concept to a western audience.

It’s not about usefulness.

Rather than the typical “Do you use this?” type questions I’ve seen other de-clutterers use, Konda asks two simple questions “Does this spark joy?” and “Do you see this as part of your future?” The first question acknowledges that we have a connection to our possessions beyond usefulness.  Indeed, Kondo breaks down her tidying into different categories and sentimental items get their own category.

The second question helps look at purpose, rather the “usefulness”.  It gets to the why of the person is holding onto it.  The one that really spoke to me was the guy who collected sneakers.  He had a roomful of expensive shoes he had collected over the years and never worn.  On most shows, the expert would have told him to get rid of them.  In this case though, he instead chooses to get rid of the shoes he wears all the time.  His wife is dismayed at first, but he explains he had these shoes he loved but wasn’t really enjoying.  So he picked out his favorite pairs of the expensive shoes to keep and actually wear and enjoy.  He then got rid of the excess of his shoe collection that he didn’t feel a connection with or those that had fallen apart.

Recently, I reorganized my closet and ended up taking everything out so I could put things according to category to find them easier (ie skirts, pants, blouses, etc).  As I went through my things, I found so many cute and fun pieces I had never worn.  I have been a stay at home parent for almost a decade and over time my everyday clothes had drifted to yoga/sweat pants and t-shirts and jeans when I had to leave the house.  I thought about getting rid of all these clothes I loved but didn’t wear, but it made me really sad.  Instead, I resolved to make an effort to wear them more when I left house.  Even if I’m just grocery shopping, I feel much stronger and myself wearing those clothes.  It help me realized there really is power in adopting an aesthetic.

No Shame. She keeps things positive.

Kondo never shames people for being messy.  Indeed she doesn’t treat messiness as a failing, simply something that happens and an opportunity to change things up.  Getting messy is indeed actually part of her process as you take everything in one of her categories, put it in a pile, and then go through it.  She also understands that you have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle a mess, that its ok if it sits for a bit until you’re ready to deal with it.  We see this in particular with the woman who was a widow--Kondo adjusts the order of her system so the widow can tackle the areas she feels most comfortable, knowing that she is still grieving.

Also, this isn’t a makeover show.  People’s homes still look pretty close to what they were when they started.  Indeed, sometimes the homes seemed perfectly fine to me when Kondo and her translator arrive and I wondered why she was there.  Often it was more about the energy of the home and feeling lost and disconnected from their belongings.  And after watching, even though the homes visually look the same, the feeling--the energy is what really changed.

I mean this show is really all about joy and in particular about bring joy into your life though connecting to your home.  I highly recommend it and Kondo’s method if you want to bring some order to your life.

[bbwoulfc]

Instincts Sucks - Ch. 4

A/N:  I'm going to add a WARNING to this chapter. There is unwanted touching and what can easily be considered sexual assault occur in this chapter. It's nothing extreme like I've seen in some fics, but I wanted to offer a warning before those who read this fic. I don't know what triggers people now a days, so I want to cover my steps.

After three days of enduring the most tension building experience of his first rut, Adrien was finally glad to have the experience officially over.

To say he wasn’t appreciative of the amount of care that his parents gave him would be a lie.  He greatly appreciated all the work and effort that his parents, Nathalie, and Arthur did for him.  It was because of them that his first rut went off well enough to have survived it.  Though that issue with feeling relief became an issue, it was miracle that he managed to receive it after many failed trails within the first two days.

However, even though things went as smooth as they could have gone, only one thing still penetrated his mind.  

THOSE. DAMN. MARINETTE PHOTOS.

Even after a day Adrien couldn’t get those images out of his mind.  Those legs, that body, that sexy gleam in her eyes.  He wanted to know how they convinced Marinette to partake in doing those photos in the first place.  

Did she want to take those photos?  

Did she want to do those photos because she wanted him to see a side of her?

She had to have love him enough if she agreed to doing the photos, right?  The thoughts continued to swim through his head as he continued to replay the entire magazine images.  Gods, he’d do anything to have the chance to see Marinette in those outfits in person.  Then another thought came to play.   ‘How the hell am I going to face Marinette in a fews hours?!’

That simple thought halted him dead in his tracks.  In just a few hours, Marinette and all his other friends and fellow co-workers would be arriving to the mansion for his eighteenth birthday bash.  

Other than your typical sweet sixteen birthday, your eighteenth birthday was the greatest moment to experience.  It was the marking of your maturity, the beginnings of reaching your full presentation stage.  The time where you can officially marry and live with your mate.  A huge milestone in a person’s life.

A moment that Adrien knew his parents were extremely proud of and excited to see their son begin the new chapter in his life.  And one that he gets to share with his closests friends, aside from others due to his current employment.  The best part about this large gathering is the change to spend it with his wonderful omega.

Looking around his bedroom, Adrien notices some disorganized messes scattered around the large space.  His movie collection thrown about with movie cases scattered lazedly about along the tv stand and shelves, his bed undone from being transported to the heat room during his rut, and clothes scattered along the floor.  Noticing the mess, Adrien hums in thought as he thinks and considers that he shouldn’t have thrown his clothes lazedly in the room and actually walked to his dirty clothes hamper.

Seeing the mess put a small hint of red on his cheeks at the embarrassment of his own unorganized self.  That alone pushed further thoughts about others seeing his room like this.  One in particular.   ‘What if Marinette wanted to come up here?!’

What if he and Marinette wanted to kiss?  

Adrien slapped a hand over his eyes, groaning at the thought.  Could you blame the young man?  The thought of Marinette and him sharing a kiss was wonderful.  If he had to wish for one thing to come true for his eighteenth birthday, it would have to be the chance to have his first kiss with his beautiful omega, Marinette.  Call him crazy, but nothing would be more perfect than that.  

And if that moment were to arise, knowing Marinette as well as he did, she would want a nice, quiet place to share a loving moment.  

Sliding his hand down his face, Adrien glanced around his room again and calculated.  There was still five hours before his party and his parents, along with the staff of the house, were busy decorating and handling all the catering.  Plenty of time to clean his room and reorganize.  

He had a lady to impress.  That gave him at least three hours to make sure his room was clean and at least two hours to get ready and prepare for his party.  He’s got this.  He can totally do this.

Peeking glances around his room he knows he’s got his work cut out for him.  The things he does for his lady.

                                                     ******

Across a few arrondissements, at the Tom and Sabine boulangerie, Marinette is sitting along her chaise with discarded fabrics, scissors, assortments of beads and other fabric decorative items scattered around her.  Assortments along her chaise and scattered on her bedroom floor, it was clear that Marinette was in her prime and space of fashion.  And she had a goal of finishing her last minute design for a special occasion.

Since the past three days after Adrien’s unfortunate, unexpected approaching rut cycle, Marinette planned a special outfit for her alpha.  A tingle circulated through her body at the thought of calling Adrien her alpha.  Though it was fairly new of her to take such action, something inside of her was convinced that if Adrien was going to refer her as his omega, then why not refer him as her alpha.  And if she were being completely honest with herself, it felt magnificent calling Adrien hers.

After being asked to participate in a private photoshoot to model and dress in Agreste clothing for Adrien’s benefit, Mme. Agreste offered Marinette a shirt design that was to be released in their next catalog.  She was ecstatic to say the least when she was gifted with this item, but it offered Marinette design inspiration to create a full outfit with the new shirt given to her.  And once she received a text from the Agreste about Adrien’s party being held Saturday, it offered Marinette a perfect opportunity to show off and impress her alpha.

With Adrien’s party being today, she couldn’t wait to prepare and dress in the outfit she had been planning since receiving the text.  And even though she and Adrien never planned on showing much affection other than the typical cuddling and contact of touch, a big part of her was feeling that he wanted a little more just like her.

Ever since he kissed her, well, on the corner of her lips and cheek, she’s never wanted anything more than to fully kiss the young man fully on the lips.  With it being Adrien’s eighteenth birthday today, a large part of her wants to give him a special gift of giving them their first kiss.  And if she truly thought about it, Alya and Nino were right.  Her and Adrien shouldn’t wait and rely until they were both eighteen and rely on the possibility of the 'destined' mate.  If they were able to be happy without even knowing now, they’ll still be happy even after knowing then.

Hopefully, those photoshoot images was enough to give Adrien the hint that she was there for him whether she was in person or not.

Stitching the last glitter disc shape piece on the lining of her red stain jean shorts, Marinette finally completed her outfit for Adrien’s birthday bash.  With two hours to spare it was time for her to get ready and dressed for the party.

Standing from her chaise, Marinette gathered all the mess of scattered fabric supplies and cleaned up.  Placing leftover fabric and other small pieces from being cut into her basket of fabrics, organizing accordingly so the leftover cut strips of fabric didn’t mix with the unused fabrics.  Securing all her sewing utensils into her sewing box, Marinette set her finished product on her chaise.

Heading to the closet, Marinette retrieved her new shirt gifted to her by Mme. Agreste and brought it to her chaise to set beside her red jean shorts.  Bending down, she reached under her chaise and grabbed her black converse shoes to wear with the outfit.  Satisfied, Marinette grabbed a towel and headed to her bathroom to get ready for Adrien’s birthday.

                                             ******

Stepping out of her bathroom forty minutes later, wrapped in a fluff pink towel, she strolls to one of her drawers and picks out a lovely black lace bra and panties.  Sure she thinks it might be unnecessary, it always felt pleasant to feel sexy.  That, and she wants to use it as a confidence builder when she arrives at the party and interact with her awaited alpha.

Dropping the towel, Marinette put on her black lace bra and panties; feeling the comfort of the lce and soft fabric hug her body.  Strolling back towards her chaise, Marinette reached for the red shorts and pulled them along her legs and secured the button closed.  Glancing in her mirror, she smiled at the glimmer and reflective surface of the red bedding shining from the light of the window and room lamp.  Turning back to her chaise, she reached for her new shirt and threw over her head and slid her arms through the sleeves and spun back around to look in the mirror.  

Her smile grew as she looked at the outfit.  The shirt gifted to her was a light grey hue in color that ran from her sleeves and down towards the bottom hem of her shirt, though gradually fading in gradients along the way down.  In the front of her shirt, a light sepia, mixed with gradients of red and pink, was an image of the Eiffel Tower stood near the left side with some Parisian buildings running across the other side, the Champs Elysees taking place in the background behind some of the buildings.  In the bottom right corner was a small image of red heeled, styled shoes and a pair or pink rings.  The center of the shirt with perfect cursive text that said Paris, France.  Finished with black and white zebra patterns blended towards the bottom to the end of the shirt.

In all, the shirt and shorts fit perfectly against the curves of her body.  She couldn’t feel more proud of her comforting attire.  And she couldn’t wait for Adrien to see her show up and admire the design.  Even though the shirt wasn’t hers, the rest was created by her and designed to match along the Agreste original.

Turning to look at her cat, Tikki, lying in one of her cat hammy, the blue-eyed calico watched in comfort as her owner prepared for her mate’s party.

“What do you think, Tikki?  Does it look good to you?” Marinette asked her calico.

Lifting her head, Tikki gave a pleasant and agreeable response, a smile running along her muzzle; tail swaying side to side in happiness and content.

Moving away from the stand alone mirror, Marinette heads to her vanity and reaches for her hairbrush to begin styling her hair.  Looking into the smaller mirror of her vanity, she gazes at her raven hair and decides on a hairstyle.  Her hair grown out through the previous years, passing a little further from her shoulder, almost reaching mid shoulder blade.

Brushing her hair straight, Marinette grabs the top half of her hair and ties it up in a small ponytail.  The tail end resting and nearly blending with the lower half of her hair.  Grabbing her flat iron, Marinette curled the ends of her hair until they flipped up, the different layers flipping in different lengths to offer volume.  Then finally, she styled her bangs to one side, using hairspray to hold everything together.

Applying a light touch of blush, soft rose eyeshadow, and clear glitter lip gloss, Marinette was finished and ready for Adrien’s party.

Heading back to her chaise, Marinette placed a pair of grey socks and her black converse shoes on.  Tying the laces, Marinette jumped up, giving a twirl in excitement, and headed to her desk to retrieve her gift for Adrien.  Giving Tikki a pet goodbye, she headed downstairs and down to the bakery where her parents were finishing the last touches of Adrien’s birthday cake.

Once the decision was announced that Adrien’s birthday bash was scheduled for today, Gabriel and Emilie called Tom and Sabine about making a five layered cake for Adrien.  The Dupain-Cheng’s happily accepted, agreeing to make other treats for other party goers.  Besides, Tom and Sabine would take any opportunity to make something for their future son-in-law.  It was pretty clear to both set of parents that their children were bonded to the end.

Finished with the cake, Marinette helped her parents with the pastry, holding the large box as her parents picked up the five layered creation and set in carefully inside the box.  Securing it closed and tapping the ends shut, Sabine and Tom removed their aprons, both already dressed in nicer clothing for the party.  Hanging up the aprons, the family of three locked up the bakery and exited through the back of the bakery’s kitchen the family’s car, a silver Peugeot.  Placing the cake in the back of the trunk of their car, all three enter the car and drive off towards the Agreste home.

                                                ******

Back at the Agreste Mansion.

Adrien was standing in front of his large bathroom mirror, finishing the last minute touches before heading down to his party.  Grooming his hair and styling it in his familiar, but the sides combed back more, and his bangs flipped and flowing closer.  Shaving and trimming his jaw line, leaving a small stubble of blond facial hair.  Though it’s not thick and still early in the growth process, Adrien couldn’t help but leave the new development of his growth.  If he’s lucky, maybe Marinette would find it attractive.

Shaved, hair styled to his liking; Adrien takes a few steps back to get a better look of himself in the mirror.  Standing tall, Adrien wore a green t-shirt, similar to the color of his eyes, with three gold stripes running across his chest.  A thin black jacket over top his shirt with neon green trimming and interior, smokey grey fitted jeans, and green converse with his parent’s logo on the sides.  And finally, Marinette’s lucky charm bracelet on his left wrist.

Hearing the doorbell of the mansion ring, all the guest begin arriving signaling Adrien to head down stairs.  Grabbing his phone from his desk, he places the phone in his back jean pocket and turns to his bed where Plagg is lying and staring at him.  Adrien stares back at the cat with a warning glare.

Pointing a finger at his cat, “Don’t get into anything, Plagg.”

Plagg raises a brow, questioning the boy before laying his head down on the bed.  A huff escaping the cat as he flicks his tail.

Adrien closes the door and mutters, “Damn cat.”  

Heading down the hallways and main stairway, Adrien comes into view of the entire entry way and side rooms where classmates and fellow models from his job begin crowding and filing in.  Reaching the bottom of the steps, Adrien begins greeting everyone who’s arrived.

All greeting Adrien in return, Kim gives a playful punch into his shoulder, giving him a side hug afterwards.  

Max coming up next to pat Adrien on shoulder, wishing him a happy birthday.  It was still weird seeing Max at the same height as him, but was a great change when playing basketball with the others at school.

Alix came forward next, giving Adrien a quick hug, wishing him happy birthday, before giving a more forceful, playful punch to his shoulder, opposite of the one Kim punched.

Following the three came Juleka and Rose, both giving Adrien a hug with Rose becoming all gidding.  Nathanael and Chloe following after, offering him birthday wishes and congratulating him for reaching his alpha maturity.  Thanking them, the couple head off towards the food catering table for refreshments.

Ivan and Mylene following close behind after a few minutes, giving their greetings and heading off to refreshments table.

With others trickling in, Adrien moves aside and begins roaming around for his closest friends when he hears a familiar voice.

“Hey, bro!”

Turning around, Adrien catches Nino and Alya approaching the blond with smiles.  Entering a three group hug, Nino is beaming when he looks around at all the decorations, foods, and refreshments set up.

“Damn, Adrien, you’re parents went all out from this party.  It’s insane what you all have set up.  Even the DJ they hired to play in the small hall over there is actually good.”  Altering his features, Nino gives Adrien a glare, a playful gleam flowing within, “Though I’m hurt you didn’t ask your best friend to DJ for you.  My heart crumbled when I saw that a DJ was hired instead of me.”

Chuckling, Adrien pats his friends shoulder, “My apologies, Nino.  You know if I had any say in this, I would have most definitely hired you as the DJ.  Unfortunately, my parents planned this all during my previous situation of being housed and spending majority of my time in the heat room.  Though I will admit my parents did a pretty good job with this.”

“I’d have to agree with you sunshine.”  Alya spoke up, “This is probably the most lively party of yours you’ve had.  But I won’t mark it against you since you’re parents planned this one.”

“Thanks, Alya.”  Adrien returned.  “Did Marinette arrive with you two?”

He hadn’t seen his love anywhere amongst the crowd in the rooms.  He would have thought his lady would have arrived by now.  He wanted to be near her and hold her.

Adrien lets out a frustrated whimper, Alya and Nino laughing at his behavior.

“Calm down, lover boy.  Mari should be here shortly.  Be patient, Adrien.”  Alya said as she tried to calm the blond.

Releasing a sigh, Adrien looks at Alya, “I’m sorry.  I just haven’t seen her in...three days?  I just feel like I have Mari withdrawal.”

The sound of whooping and clapping began echoing through the first floor of the mansion as Adrien, Alya, and Nino walked towards the entryway to see the commotion taking place.  Reaching the entryway, all three peaked their heads up and watched as Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng entered through the front doors holding a large box.  His mother and father walked forward and guided them towards a circular table standing in the middle of the foyer, right in front of the main stairway.  No doubt his parents placed it there moments ago.

Walking towards the table, Tom and Sabine carefully placed the large box on the round table.  Cutting the edges of the box where the tape resided, the couple pulled apart the sides of the box to reveal the five layered birthday cake.  All the party goers were in awe at the intriquent and carefully crafted design of the five layered creation.  Adrien himself was blown away at the creation, still amazed by the steady hands of the bakers.  People took out there phones to take photos of the intriquent cake.

“Do you like it, minou?  They worked really hard on it.”

Hearing the familiar voice from behind, Adrien spun around and came face to face with the love of his life.  However, he wasn’t prepared for the gorgeousness that is his lady in the breathtaking spunky attire that she wore.  The shirt being recognized from his parents next line and her red shorts hugging her hips and lower thighs wonderfully.  But what caught his breath was the way her hair was styled.  Beautifully framed around her face, and curled at the ends, the little amount of makeup breaking out her features further.

The entire image of Marinette standing before him brought back those distracting, enchanting, lovely photoshoot pictures.

OH FUCK.

Gods, his omega was going to kill him.

Her giggling broke Adrien out of his hormone induced brain to find her smiling up at him, her cheeks tinted in a soft pink.  Wait.  Did she know what he was just imagining?!

“Do you like it?”  Marinette asked, taking a hand and flattening her shirt.  “I specifically designed this around the shirt.”  She looks up and moves closer to Adrien, resting her left hand on his chest.  The heat of her touch could be felt through his clothing and it felt wonderful.  “I wanted to make sure I impressed my alpha.”

Adrien’s green eyes bugged out a bit.  Was he hearing things correctly?  Did his omega just call him hers?!

Taking everything in, he watches Marinette slightly lean back, biting her lip in that adorable fashion that always drew him in and glancing towards her lips.  Witnessing her saying he was her alpha ignited a spark of desire, possession, and relief.  All the stress he built on himself had finally dissipate.  A long waited breath leaving Adrien.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Adrien pulls Marinette towards him until she was flat against his chest.  Eliciting a giggle from Marinette, she leans against him without hesitation and rests her head against her alpha’s chest.  Neither of them thought they’d break away from waiting til they were both eighteen to wait to grow more physical.  But, if they were being true to themselves, they were thrilled to have broken that promise.  

Both desired the closer physical contact.  Whether it was for instinctual purposes or relationship purposes, Adrien and Marinette would gladly take the new bond as is.  And to think, all it took to push the contact and relationship (one they will have to talk about) further was an unexpected early presentation cycle and the self confidence of a photoshoot for a mate.

“Your alpha, huh?”  Adrien asked, looking down at Marinette.

Pushing her head up, leaning her chin in his chest, she gazed at Adrien, looking into those gorgeous emerald green eyes of his and simply smiled warmly back at him.  “I figured since you keep referring me as your omega, I should return the favor and begin referring you as my alpha.  I thought it only be fitting that we called each other ours.”

Suddenly feeling sheepish, she asks, “Is that alright with you, Adrien?  I didn’t stop to consider to ask your feelings on this.”

Adrien’s heart burst further with affection for this amazing young woman in his arms.  She didn’t have to worry about him feeling anything against this new development into their new bond, this new, dare he say it, relationship.  He’s waited for so long to claim her as his own and he’s not gonna risk losing her now.

“I’ve waited four years to call you mine.”  Returning the smile, “As long as you’ll have me as your alpha.”

Standing on her toes, Marinette leans up to rest her forehead against Adrien’s, him leaning down to accommodate the height difference.

“Yes.”  Marinette replied.

Leaning away from from Adrien, Marinette unwrapped herself from his arms and handed him her gift for his birthday.  “Happy birthday, minou.”

Taking the gift from her hands, Adrien pulled the ribbon wrapped around the decorative box, tossing the ribbon to the nearest side of the room, and opened the lid.  What he saw inside pulled him into awe and warmth to burst into his chest yet again.  He recalls all the gifts his parents had ever given him through his entire childhood growing up, but he couldn’t recall the last time he ever received a handmade gift.

People may question how he would know this gift was handmade, but if there was anything he knew about Marinette, and he knew a lot, was that she always created handmade gifts.  So when he saw two handmade knitted scarfs in the box, he was breathless.  Even without touching them, Adrien could see how comfortably soft the fabric was and no doubt how warm they would be upon wearing them.

Slipping the top of the lid underneath the bottom of the box, Adrien reached in to pull one of the scarfs out, rubbing his thumb along the fabric and knitted patterns, completely admiring the craftsmanship and dedication stitched into this gift.   It felt incredibly soft to the touch, almost like he was running his fingers against silk.  The creativity in this family never cease to amaze him.

“These are incredible, Mari.”  Marinette watched the sincerity in his eyes as they gleamed in adoration.  And Adrien indeed was worshipping these scarfs.  A Marinette original.  “Thank you.”

“Your welcome.  I wasn’t sure about colors at first, but I thought blue would look rather charming on you, especially with your eyes during certain seasons or whenever it got cold.  I also thought green would look gorgeous on you as well, since it would really go along with your eyes.  So I decided to do both to save trouble.  Figured you could wear whichever you preferred or whichever goes along with a certain outfit of yours.”

Wrapping his arms around Marinette again, Adrien draws her in and nuzzles his head against hers, leaning to to leave a kiss against her temple.  A small tingle shooting throughout both their bodies from the contact.

“Alright everyone!  Let’s get this party in motion!”  Shouted Mme. Agreste.

Finding Nathalie, Adrien asked her to place Marinette’s gift up in his bedroom for safe keeping.  He didn’t want to risk losing her gift amongst the others or risk someone stealing them.

Thanking Nathalie, Adrien reached for Marinette’s hand and walked her across the foyer to the other side of the house, opposite of the food and refreshments side.  Making their way to the right side of the house, Adrien and Marinette arrived to the dance room.  

Others were already dancing amongst each other, stepping to the bass of the beat from the music.  The DJ dancing at his spot near the mixing soundboard as lights danced and glowed along with the bands being played.  The current song featuring Adrien and Marinette’s favorite, Jagged Stone.

Stepping onto the dance floor, Adrien positioned Marinette in front of him, both facing each other as they begin dancing and swinging to the music.  The beat moving their bodies as everyone attempts to match the tempo.

Grasping Marinette’s hand, Adrien twirls her around and spins her away and pulls her back in.  Both falling in sync with each other and matching step for step.  Following and repeating the same motions and movements.

As rock and pop instrumentals blend to a slow musical beat for the first slow dance, Adrien and Marinette moved in sync, as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his wrapped around her waist.  Pulling her closer, Marinette rest her head against his chest a second time today.  The current moment being shared between them becoming one of their favorite memories.  Yes, they’ve danced previously in the past, but to them, this is the first time officially bonded and within the realms of a relationship.

For Adrien this day couldn’t get any better.

As the slow song switched to a more upbeat song, Adrien and Marinette leaned back from each other.  Small streams a sweat beginning to gather along their foreheads from the heat encased in the room from the amount of bodies scattered along the dance floor.

“Would you like a drink, my lady?”  

“Yes, please.”

Agreeing on a refreshment, Marinette informed Adrien that she’ll step aside by the wall on the right side of the dance floor.  Waiting for his return with the drinks.  Nodding, Adrien exits the dance area and heads to the other side of the foyer to retrieve their beverages.

For Marinette, she found an empty space along the right wall of the dance floor, gazing out to the floor and watching others continue dancing amongst the music.  

Following some of the dancers, she managed to find Alya and Nino amongst the other dance goers.  Dancing and swinging freely with one another as the duo swerved along the other dancers like professional dancers; in complete flow and in sync like water running through various rocks along a stream.

Watching her two friends dance gave her happiness.  She was happy for those two as they were always in sync.  The two of them always there for the other, always supporting one another and their dreams.  She couldn’t wait herself to finally begin a life with her bonded mate.  To have the happiness as a whole from both halves like Alya and Nino do, as well as Chloe and Nathanael.

Caught in her own thoughts of the hopeful future for her and Adrien, Marinette failed to sense the unpleasant presence of another body standing beside her.

The pheromones and energy growing heavy, it was enough to snap Marinette out of her reverie and twist her head over her shoulder to greet the other person standing beside her.

Standing beside her stood another young man, though based on the physical features, she was able to pick that this guest was older, if anything him at least two years older than Adrien.  Though, she did not recognize this young man.  Nothing about him offered a sense of recognition.

Marinette will acknowledge and agree that this young man was indeed attractive, pleasant features along his face.  Light brown hair, styled with strands slightly spiked but with softness rather than hardness, probably held by a medium textured hair paste.  Eyes coated with hazel, almost like honey itself was trapped within when striked by the right angle of light.  

His physical body presenting muscular in every way.  Nicely toned chest, small ab details seen from his smokey grey muscle shirt, arms built to perfect that common jock appearance.  Overall, this young man screamed alpha.

Even with everything about this young man appeared attractive and perfect, nothing stood out more than the overall aura of this alpha that made Marinette feel uncomfortable and on defense.

Maybe it was due to her bond with Adrien and her complete devotion to him, but her instincts never strayed her the wrong way when an un-tameness sort of energy approaches and swerves around her.

Marinette watches as the man leans against the wall on his side, leaning in closely towards her.

“Hello, beautiful.”  The stranger introduced, a slight hungry growl mixed within.

The simple greeting set alarms ranging within Marinette’s body.  All sense of discomfort flowing around her as her instincts send brain signals to move away from this alpha.  To leave this spot and search for the safety of her alpha.

As Marinette attempted to lean away from the wall and walk around the alpha, she was halted in her steps as the alpha stood in front of her and leaned into her space, his arms falling along her sides against the wall, trapping her in a small cage.  Her omega senses increasing with the threat of this presence in front of her.

“Let me go.”  Marinette demanded, a small snarl escaping as she glared into the young man’s eyes.

“Come now.  Why the rush.  Don’t you want an alpha to be claimed by.”  The alpha lent further until he was face to face with Marinette.  “I can give you all that your heart desires.  I can even make it a wild ride and fun in the bedroom.”

The grin that he gave was nothing but predatory.  Nothing came good from an alpha who bared an aura like the one he’s giving.  And that grin all but sent shivers down her body, and the young man took that reaction in a completely different way.

As the alpha did seconds ago, he moved closer, until he pushed himself against her body.  Her’s stuck between his and the wall, nowhere to move or go.  

The last thing she expected was his head leaning against the space of her neck, the touch his nose running along the structure of her neck.  Her body electrifying from the discomfort and assault.  It was all wrong; everything about this man and his actions against her was assault and she wouldn’t stand by this.

Throwing all the strength she possessed as her current omega form, she shoved the alpha’s arms away and shoved the man’s face away from her neck.  However, her actions were for naught, as the alpha grasped her wrist and slammed them against the wall, pinning her body between his and the wall.  

He snarled at Marinette, anger and amusement seeping off the alpha.  Looking up, she could see the alpha’s eyes bare gold, canines elongated as he bared his teeth at her.  His grip tightened around her wrist.  All she could do was snarl back, her own canines elongating, her eyes shifting to a light white-silver.

“My, my, we have ourselves a fighter.”  He chuckled as he gave Marinette’s wrist a squeeze.  Pain beginning to tingle along her skin.  “I’ll make sure to break you from that.  Can’t have that running through your mind and body.  I need you as the submissive type.”

He moved her arms above her head, freeing one of his hands.  Taking the free hand, he ran his fingers along the bare skin of her legs.  The unwanted touch sending wrongness throughout her body.  He wasn’t meant to touch her.  She wasn’t his to touch, he wasn’t meant anything when it came to her body.  The only person who had the right and privilege to touch her body was her alpha.  Her Adrien.  And she’d be damn that anyone else touch her.

“Get your hands off me!”  Marinette snarled out.  Her shouts falling short from the overbearing music overhead.  She knew her strength wasn’t an equal match against him.  She wasn’t in her maturity stage yet, but damn it she wished above anything that she hit her maturity age.  That way it would have been an even playing field.  But until then, she was vulnerable to him.

“I’ll release you once I claim you.”

“I’ve already been claimed asshole.”

The alpha jackass had the audacity to laugh in her face.

“Even if you were, my dear.  The markless skin of your neck says otherwise.  And as long as an omega has a bareless, markless neck, she’s all fair game.  And you’re too gorgeous to escape.”

Her eyes widened when the facts displayed in her head.  He was one of those alphas.  He was one of those that felt privileged; felt that he could enforce any being below an alpha rank.  This asshole where amongst the few who believed an omega is free for all as long as they bared markless on the neck, be damned if they had a destined or current relationship.  If they desired an omega they had their sights on, and they were unclaimed, they were up for bid in their eyes.

To them, omegas where nothing but to cater to the alpha needs.  Anything from catering their food, cleaning, and any sexual cravings and activities that the alpha desired.  In their eyes, an omega was nothing but to please and cater to their every whim.

Unfortunately, some unlucky souls of an omega or even a beta who captures the radar of one of these alphas, are broken until they become the submissive partner.

She was not going to end up like those broken souls, not while she has a chance or say about it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”  His grin displayed his canines as she shut her eyes, praying for any miracle as she felt him lean closer.

But as soon as she felt him lean towards her, the weight and grip on her wrist vanished.  A breeze brushing against her, a loud bang echoed throughout the entire dance room causing her eyes to snap open.

And standing in front of her was the miracle she dearly hoped for.

                                                ******

Entering the other side of the of the foyer, Adrien walked towards the refreshment table and grabbed two plastic cups.  Waiting patiently, he filled the two cups with ice from the ice bowl and filled the cups with fruit juice mix.

Weaving around the other party goers, dodging some of the large groups and fellow Agreste employees, Adrien crossed the foyer and re-entered the dance floor, glancing over to the far side of the wall for Marinette, only to come face to face with an unpleasant site.

Standing before him, across the wall, Adrien watched as young man, an alpha based off his pose structure, pressed himself against his omega, his princess .  And worse, he saw the disgrace of a man and alpha as he touched her without her consent.  He dared touch her against her will.

Seeing the alpha raise his lady’s arms above her head, taking his free hand and running along her bare legs set Adrien off.  If there was one thing to piss him off more, it was another alpha, an unwanted one, touching his omega.  Anger and rage began running though his body, his green eyes switching to a fiery gold as he glared at the alpha.

When the alpha grinned at Marinette and bared his teeth, leaning towards her to mark her, everything inside Adrien snapped.  Instincts taking over as his canines elongated, dropping the drinks, and running to his omega’s aid.

Running at top speed, Adrien reached the two in a few strides.  Gripping at the alpha’s shirt, Adrien honed all his alpha strength and flung him off Marinette, throwing the alpha across a few feet into one of the sound systems.  The dance room falling into complete silence as all the guests halt in their movement and snap their attention towards the ruckus taking place near the entrance of the room.

For some of the party goers, manly friends of the two in the midst of the ruckus, all eyes were on the three.  Alya, Nino, Chloe and Nathanael being one of the top few who were stunned and startled at what was taking place before them.  Though out of the four, Chloe and Nathanael were able to figure out what was occuring based on the aura and mood taking hold amongst Adrien, Marinette, and the other alpha.

With all eyes on Adrien and the other alpha, none of the surroundings Adrien paid attention too.  His focus was purely on the alpha in front of him.  An alpha he had the displeasure of working with at his parents company.  

Markus Blanceux.  A fellow model at Agreste company.  A fellow model and alpha with a disrespectful behavior and attitude amongst his fellow peers.

“Agreste.”  Markus snarled, “She’s mine.”

A growl escapes through Adrien’s clenched teeth as he launched himself at Markus, slamming him against the marble flooring as both alphas began brawling against one another.

Both males snarling, each letting out a loud roar of rage.  Tumbling and throwing each other across the space of the room that was given to them from the other guests.  None wanting to speak up, fearing to intervene whatsoever.

The audience gathered stood speechless and in awe as they watch two alphas battle against each other.  Amazed by the strength from Adrien as he landed fist after fist into Markus’s jaw and nose.  A loud snap and a pained growl coming from Markus, his nose broken from one of Adrien’s punches.

However, Adrien hadn’t escaped any injury either.  Markus managed to land a few punches at Adrien’s face, landing the Agreste’s jaw, nose, and eye.  Resulting the Areste model with a busted lip and bloody nose.

Falling on his back, Adrien blocks another punch from Markus when he uses his feet to kick the alpha back, launching him against the marble flooring.  

Before Markus could attack again, strong, bulk arms encased the young man as he turns to find the Agreste’s bodyguard holding him back.  A glare engraving into the model.  From behind, Gabriel, Emilie, along with Tom and Sabine come from behind.  Hearing the noise and chaos coming from the room, the parents rushed in with the bodyguard rushing into duty.

Approaching the teens, Gabriel looks upon the situation and shoots a glare at Markus.  Very familiar with the model from his and his wife’s company.

“Remove this man from my home.  Keep him outside as I would like a word with him.”  Gabriel demanded, his alpha voice seething through as he watched, with pride and pleasure, that Markus wilted at his employer's glare.

Turning back at Adrien, he saw the blood from his busted lip and nose.  “Are you alright, Adrien?”

“I’ll be fine..for now anyways.”  Came Adrien’s reply.

Lips thinning, Gabriel turned to Marinette, her body still stunned from the event.  A inkling of a feeling of what occurred based on the scene.

“Marinette, will take Adrien up to his room and treat his wounds, please.” Gabriel asked.

Without any hesitation, Marinette removed herself from the wall and rushed to Adrien’s side.  Helping him up to his feet as she walked beside him and headed up the main stairway towards his bedroom.  Leaving the guests in silence from what occured, they’re friends worried about Adrien and Marinette.

Once the two were out of sight, Gabriel and Emilie requested the music continue and the guest mingle until Adrien and Marinette were able to return.

                                                    ******

Up in Adrien’s room, Marinette set him on his bed as she ran into his bathroom to retrieve his first aid kit.  Knowing where exactly the box was, Marinette returned with the kit in hand.

Sitting beside Adrien, Marinette handed the blond a cloth to hold against his nose, while she removed a disinfectant wipe and began wiping away the blood around his cut lip.

Feeling the comforting silence, Adrien placed his left hand on Marinette’s knee, rubbing his thumb in circular motions along the joint.  The touch from Adrien felt soothing and welcomed for Marinette.  The contact from him felt safe and protected.

“Thank you, Adrien.”  Adrien turned his head to look at his lady, her movements to cleaning his lip stopping as she returned his gaze.  “Thank you for saving me.”

Adrien gave her a smile full of warmth, “I will always be there for you, Mari.  I will never let anyone harm you as long as I live.”  He reaches for her left hand and brings it forwards towards his lips, leaving a kiss against her knuckles.

Both chest warming from the contact, Marinette leans forwards, removing her hand from his grip and places it along his cheek; her body leaning in as she presses her lips against his, igniting their first kiss.  Adrien lent into the touch.  Wrapping an arm around Marinette as he embraced her against his body.

Breaking the kiss, they rest their foreheads against each other, both gazing lovely into each other’s eyes.

“Happy birthday, Adrien.  I love you.”  She said as her lips brushed against his.

“I love you too, my lady.”  Adrien returns before capturing her lips for a second kiss.    

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Watford Cove

Chapter 10: everything back and more

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word count: 2580

Chapter: 10/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Simon and Baz have some time before exams start. They decide to go on a date before the storm begins.

Read on AO3

AN: Okay okay omg two amazing people made fan art of this fic and I'm so happy and grateful. There's this fantastic piece of my punk Baz by @neck-mole and this wonderful art of my pastel and punk beauties by @jessethejoyful. I love them so much and I'm still freaking out about it so thank you to those two again. Now onto the chapter. It's more fluff cause my boys need it tbh. Also I posted this to the wrong blog for like 30 seconds because I’m an idiot sorry!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

“You and your boyfriend are gross.”

I plant myself on the picnic table with a thunk, giving Niall a curious look. “And good afternoon to you too, mate.”

“I’m serious,” he says, arms crossed. “You two are disgusting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t peg you for a homophobe, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes and shoves my leg. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. You two are snogging everywhere all the time. Didn’t you just get caught in the gym closet yesterday?

That’s unfortunately true. We did get caught, with Simon’s legs around my waist and my hand up his shirt. Coach Mac was certainly not amused. He made us reorganize said closet as punishment. It was totally worth it though.

After our talk last week, I assumed Simon and I wouldn't be around each other as much, no longer afraid that our relationship would end abruptly. But it’s the exact opposite. We sneak off between classes, after school if I’m not with Bunce, at night if we both can’t sleep. He’d be here right now hanging with my friends if he didn’t have a makeup chem lab to do with Bunce. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s something about our promises, the trust we gave each other. Confessing our fears and understanding them.

Or maybe we’re horny teenagers who like to snog and cuddle. That would also make sense.

“He’s my first boyfriend, give me a break.” I snatch Dev’s cigarette carton and take a stick out for myself. “And I might not see him again for a year if exams go badly.”

“We get it, man,” Dev says. “And we’re happy for you. But you’re also snogging 24/7 and it’s gross.”

I take a deep drag and grin. “Yup.”

Niall sighs and leans back, his stupid aviators slipping down his face. (He thinks they’re cool. And I hate that he’s right.) “Whatever, fine. Be gross. But I have some questions for you.” He points his cigarette at me very dramatically.

“Okay...”

“One: if you go to Switzerland, how the hell are we going to contact you?”

“Simon said he’d mail me. You know, snail mail. You two can do that as well.”

“Good. Two: Are you going to come home for the holidays?”

“Probably not. Only if I behave maybe.”

“That sucks. And three: can I have your bike while you’re gone?”

I blow smoke in his face. He coughs, Dev laughs loudly. “No, you git. My beloved motorcycle will be stored in Simon’s garage so my father can’t dispose of it while I’m away.”

Niall groans pathetically. “That’s not fair. I’ve wanted that thing for ages and now I don’t even get it if you’re gone? Rude.”

“You’ll crash it.”

“Will not.”

“Will to. Simon is scared to ride it without me, so I know he’ll just leave it alone. Unlike you.”

Niall pouts, crossing his arms. “You and your stupid responsible boyfriend.” He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a curious look. “Have you two horny idiots even been on a proper date yet? Or are you just defiling everywhere you go?”

I open my mouth to protest, but quickly have to shut it. With all the excitement and exam cramming and sneaking around, we haven’t remembered to do something so simple as a date. That is a grave injustice. And I must correct it.

I pull out my mobile and open Simon’s contact in my phone. He’s still listed as “Pretty Moron”. I’ve refused to change it even since we’ve started dating.

Baz [12:36] Hey wanna going on a date after school? If so, meet me outside the north entrance.

Pretty Moron [12:37] ok sure this is kinda out of the blue luv

Baz [12:38] Do I need an excuse to want to go on a date with my boyfriend?

Pretty Moron [12:38] no it’s just odd and spontaneous

Pretty Moron [12:38] i like it tho

Pretty Moron [12:39] i’ll meet you then <3

Baz [12:40] See you then. Now go back to your chem lab idiot.

Simon doesn't reply, thankfully. He needs to pass his classes as well. This is perfect actually. Exams start tomorrow. Simon and I can have a good time before mentally dying. I lean back, eyes closed and smiling.

“Ugh he looks all lovesick again,” Niall groans. “Gross.”

I kick his shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. Dev snorts.

“Careful, Niall,” Dev says, “he’ll tease you just as much when you get a girlfriend.”

"If he gets a girlfriend,” I say flatly.

Niall punches my feet. Dev roars with laughter. Fuck, I’m going to miss these two if I leave. I wish I’d put my pride aside earlier, and given myself a better chance of staying. I only hope it will work out now.

———————————————-

Simon saunters out of the north school entrance with his typical sunshine grin. He’s wearing floral shorts, mismatched floral shirt, a rosebud bracelet, and his checkered Vans because he has no regard for fashion norms whatsoever. It's amazing. Bunce is by his side, holding her heavy textbooks. When Simon spots me, he runs up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hi, darling,” he purrs.

“Hello, love,” I reply hushed.

Bunce promptly ruins the mood by fake retching onto the sidewalk. I roll my eyes. Simon chuckles. “Thanks, Pen.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to help Basilton just so you two could be gross for longer.”

I shrug. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the help. Thank you, Bunce.”

“Aw,” she drawls sarcastically. “You’re going to make me actually sick up.”

Simon sticks his tongue out and holds onto me tighter.  “You think he’s going to ace his exams tomorrow, Pen?”

“If he follows my brilliant teaching? Yes.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say genuinely. Because I will, no doubt. Because I have too much to lose if I don’t. Bunce notices, observant as she is, nodding with a genuinely kind expression.

“So,” Simon says, “are we off to our date now?”

I grin wolfishly, excitement brewing in my gut. “As soon as you get on my bike, yes.”

Bunce sighs, already turning on her heels. “Bye, arseholes. Don’t defile too many places, please.”

Simon shrugs. I flip her off. He swings his legs over the back of my bike and wraps his arms around my middle automatically. Two engine revs, and we’re off.

Originally, I thought about taking him to Mount Olympus. But that’s too predictable. Simon and I need more than one place to call our’s. So we don’t head north towards my neighbourhood, but west, towards the Wavering Wood.

It’s another secluded area in town, surrounded by willow trees and thick brush. Most people avoid it. But I know of somewhere perfect for us. With some brilliant manoeuvring and and careful driving by me, we end up in a small clearing by a pond. The grass is soft and flat. Willow trees give us just enough shade to be comfortable. The water sparkles in the sunlight like something out of a dream.

“Wow,” Simon gasps, “this is gorgeous.”

“Our little town is full of surprises. And,” I pull out a large plastic bag from my knapsack, “so am I.”

I bring out the plastic tablecloth first. It’s white and red checkered, like something out of the fifties. Then I take out the roast beef sandwiches and sour cherry scones. Cousin Pritchard was more than happy to give me some fresh ones for free. Simon’s eyes light up beautifully at those. I spread out my arms with flourish.

“Ta-da,” I announce.

“A picnic by the water?” Simon giggles. “Really?”

“I’m feeling romantic. Sue me.”

He quickly plops himself down cross legged on the crinkly plastic. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Especially if there’s food.” He opens the takeaway container, grinning at the roast beef. “When did you get all this? At lunch?”

I sit down too, stretching out to lounge next to him. “No, free period at the end of the day. I broke many speed limits getting all of it.”

“Baz! You’re supposed to study during free periods!”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Simon, exams start tomorrow and I’ve been studying intensely for three weeks. If I’m not ready, then neither Bunce or I are as smart as we think we are.” Simon still looks concerned. I reach out and grab his hand, running my thumb over the back of it. “I’ll be alright, love. Trust me.”

His expression finally breaks, a corner of his lip pulled up. He stretches out next to me, not letting go of my hand. “Okay.”

Simon digs into his food. I laugh at all the crumbs around his mouth. Part of me wants to kiss or lick them off, but I settle for just brushing them. Simon giggles and blushes, making my heart soar. He goes after the scones almost immediately after finishing his sandwich. Of course he inhales them like a vacuum cleaner.

“Leave some for me, Salisbury,” I grumble.

“Fine,” he groans, handing me a pastry.

“Sorry I’m not letting you eat all of the sugary treats, love. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

He glares, but the weight of it is lessened by his bulging chipmunk cheeks filled with crumbly pastry. I just keep smiling as I bite my singular scone.

Once we’re done, I end up on my back with my eyes closed, Simon half resting on my chest. He uses an index finger to slowly run over my collarbone. I trace circles in the small of his back. His strong chin digs into me slightly, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fantastic. I’ve sitting by a pond, resting in willow tree shade, all with a gorgeous boy pressed against me. This might be heaven. But I wish Simon seemed to feel the same.

“Simon,” I sigh, “stop looking at me like that.”

I can practically hear Simon frown in confusion. He knows I can’t see him, but I’m incredibly perceptive. I can feel it. “Like what?”

“Like I’m going to disappear the second you close your eyes. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“O-Oh.” He lowers his head, putting his arms around my middle and his cheek over my heart. “Sorry.”

I sigh, petting his hair. “It’s alright, love, I understand. Everything starts tomorrow. Just...” I wrap both my arms around, trying to get him even closer. “Just don’t start letting me go until I’m actually gone.”

Simon growls slightly, like a defensive animal. He scoots up and buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. I can feel his every huffy hot breath.

“I’m not letting you go ever,” he whispers harashly. “I promise.”

I chuckle, amused by his affection and determination. “I know, love. Me neither, and I’m going to fight like hell to stay. I promise.”

He starts moving around. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle. Suddenly, Simon is lifting up my hand and putting something around it.

“Simon, what are you-”

“It’s for good luck,” he blurts. “For tomorrow.”

I lift up my wrist. It’s a rosebud bracelet like the one he's wearing. But strangely, the flowers are black instead of pink. It looks handmade. The roses are meticulously hand coloured, each flower obviously glued on one by one. I strain my neck down to kiss the top of Simon’s soft hair. He squeezes my sides

“Thank you, love,” I whisper.

Simon hums in approval. I fall back and look back out the sky. We go quiet again, and I bask in the moment. This perfect moment just before the storm really starts. With Simon against me, my fingers in his hair, him breathing softly, gripping my shirt, and everything calm around us.

For a long while I thought I wanted to burn the whole world down. But now, I think I could be content just staying here forever.

———————————————-

Watford is looming over me even more than usual. I feel like the whole building is going to lean down and fucking eat me. Students walk in without noticing me. Most look like they’ve been hit by a bus, with messy hair, baggy eyes, and piles of loose notes in hand. I try to look calm, but my hand is fiddling like mad, spinning Simon’s bracelet over and over. The smooth glide of it is comforting. I try to focus on that. Until something crashes into me so hard I nearly fall over.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

Suddenly, a familiar freckled face pops in front of me. “Hi.”

“Bloody hell, Simon,” I breathe out harshly. “You scared me, arsehole.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, absolutely not sorry at all. He’s wearing his rose flower crown again. He does tend to wear it when he’s excited. “You seemed really deep in thought, love.”

I sigh, running a nervous hand over my hair. “Just, this is it. Whatever I do starting now decides my fate. Ugh, Christ, that’s so over dramatic.”

“It’s fine, I understand. And don’t worry.” He reaches down to squeeze my hand, the one with the bracelet on, his matching one right next to it. “You’re going to do great.”

“You better! Or I’m going to have to deal with a very weepy Simon.”

Penelope Bunce saunters her way up to us, pushing her glasses up her nose. Simon grins and throws his arm around her shoulders. “Well, if you taught him well, then we all should be fine, right?”

“Teaching can only get you so far depending on the person.” She flashes me a smug as all hell look, and if Simon wasn’t in my way, I swear I’d kick her. But that smug smile soon becomes genuine, and to my utter surprise, she walks in front of me, stands on her toes, and ruffles my hair. What the hell?

“Good luck, Baz,” she says. “You might not want it, but I’ll give it anyway.”

Huh, not what I was expecting. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I nod. “Thank you.”

She nods in reply, then turns to walk into the school. Simon and I are the only ones left outside. I feel him lean against me, his arm perfectly lined up with mine.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “I don’t think you need it, but I want to say it.”

I kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, love. Good luck to you too.”

In a split second, before I can register what happens, Simon reaches up, turns my head, and kisses me. It’s insistent and passionate. He’s obviously holding nothing back, so I don’t either. I put hands on his hips and pull him against me. Simon’s arms wrap fully around my neck, pressing us together even more. If I could, I'd never let go.

But we do have to pull apart eventually, though our faces stay close. I keep my eyes closed and lean my forehead against his. He breathes heavily. The smell of cherries tickles my nose.

“Good luck,” he whispers.

“You already said that,” I reply. He smacks my head lightly.

“Shut up.”

“Nope. If I do well, you’re going to be stuck with me and my smart mouth.”

He pulls back, letting his arms fall down until we’re holding hands. “Yeah, I know. So go ace those goddamn tests.”

I start walking us towards Watford, fingers laced together, so tight and unwilling to part. “As you wish, love.”

———————————————-

AN: I know this chapter may feel like filler but I wanted it really badly. Baz needed to settle shit with his friends of course. And Simon and Baz need some normalcy through all this craziness. Like, I wanted them to have a calm moment before exams. I also felt like I needed to show them being normal. Just them go on normal dates with no snogging and being happy together. Sorta shows they could continue after this insanity and excitement, hm? Hope that got across. This is probably unnecessary but I always feel the need to explain my writing. Thank you for reading! And thank you again to the amazing fan artists! :D

Chapter title is from "War" by Sum 41

[calmdowncolb]

I wrote a very dumb little short Seth/Finn story that I am calling a “A New York Christmas” and it is dedicated to and also a present for @artemidi who is my favorite human.

this is 2071 words of pure indulgent Christmas goodness. 

“Babe, come onnnnn.” Seth gently headbutted against Finn’s shoulder for the third time.

“Hey! You almost made me mess up the window frame!”

Finn was on a roll again.

He was sat at the dining room table, shoulders hunched and eyes intently staring at the gingerbread house before him. He held a bag of icing carefully, like a grand paint brush, as he decorated the side of the house with delicate loops. He had bowls of four different colored icings surrounding him, each with a butterknife stuck inside. A white plastic tray with different compartments held all sorts of colorful candies. Besides that was a box of toothpicks that Finn used for, in his words, “detailing”.

This was the third gingerbread house he had created that week.

Finn was inventive and creative all year-round, from the Lego masterpieces he could effortlessly create or the elaborate drawings he’d whip up when he had spare time.

Seth could watch him all day, if even just for the faces he made while applying details.

Today, however, Seth had a plan. A very important plan, at that! But it was never going to work out if Finn didn’t take a break from his work and pay attention to him.

“Where’s that foundation brush?” Finn asked, mumbling. He was only able to take a breath after he completed the row of delicate piping.

“The what?” Seth made a face.

“I bought like, a makeup brush so I could apply the edible glitter. You didn’t see it? I left it somewhere... “

“Baby, I wanna go pick out a tree.” Seth reminded him. Again. “Come on, you promised.”

Finn still didn’t look at his pouty partner. He was considering something… Perhaps changing the color scheme of the gumdrops on the roof or the placement of the candy reindeer on the cotton-candy front lawn.

“I know, baby, gimme ten minutes.” He said absently.

“I did! Thirty minutes ago!” Seth groaned and let his body fall into the chair next to Finn with a thud.

Finn finally shot him a glance, but only because of the way the table shook from impact. However, once he saw the pure despair painted all over the puppy-faced boy, he couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m sorry, hon.” Finn took Seth’s chin in hand. “You wanna go get ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” Seth gestured to himself. He was dressed cozy in a black sweater; his jeans ruffled slightly at his ankles to reveal the warm socks Finn had knitted him before starting his gingerbread craze.

Finn let out a sigh; more loving now.

“Alright, baby.” He, albeit reluctantly, gave his creation another look-over before pushing himself away from the table and padding back to their bedroom.

Apartments in New York City were known to be small, sometimes even cramped, but that didn’t bother the couple. Their bedroom was mostly just that… a room with a bed. The queen mattress took up the entire room, leaving only space for a walkway to the closet where their clothes hung.

A few garments of Seth’s were strewn over the comforter and floor. Finn, on his way to the closet, picked up one of the many black tee shirts and brought it to his nose to inhale the sweet residual smell of Seth’s skin.

In the dining room, Seth pounced on his opportunity.

He hadn’t been able to get enough privacy within their small space to pull his peacoat on and slip the box inside his pocket. It was slightly bigger than his fist and threatened to not fit at all, but with quiet and gentle perseverance, he tucked it in and snapped the pocket button closed. As if on cue, Finn came back out, now with a light grey sweater pulled over his muscled frame.

Cartoon-like, he walked past the table where his obsession sat, only to then walk backwards and re-examine it. With a look of horror, he snatched up a toothpick and went back to work, correcting some frosting or crunchy candy bit.

Seth’s hands fell flat to his sides from pure frustration.

“BABY.”

“Sorry, let’s go!”

~

Finn was already vaguely familiar with New York City after having visited a few times as a child. He had told Seth time and again the story of his first trip to Rockefeller Center and how he had been so entranced by the beauty of the magnificent Christmas tree there.

He knew the location of a local Christmas tree nursery after determination to make his own perfect tree lead to intensive research.

Seth’s new fascination with picking out a tree was an unexpected one. Being on the high-maintenance side, maybe even bratty sometimes, Finn didn’t think his boyfriend would want to seek out a freshly cut real tree. It would have to sit and relax in the apartment for a few days before they could even decorate it. Branches would have to be cut and reorganized, then sap would leak everywhere…

It just wasn’t Seth’s style.

Despite that, Finn was never one to complain. He knew without being told that Seth was probably only daring to leave his comfort zone for his own sake. Admittedly, it was cute.

With any other destination in mind, they could take an Uber, giving them the chance to make out in the backseat and make any local driver despise them. But since the tree would have to be escorted home, it was Seth’s turn to drive.

Finn, who must have had energy pent up from sitting and focusing on his gingerbread house for so long, incessantly poked and tickled at Seth’s ribs while he drove, earning playful scolds until finally his offending hand was captured and held for the remainder of the drive.

The nursery was a little out of the way from their tiny apartment, and finding parking was a nightmare, but Seth knew it would all be worth it in the end.

They stepped inside, hand-in-hand, after complimenting the white and gold lights that adorned the outside.

Inside, the lobby had four massive trees set up in each corner. They were decorated in different color schemes: silver and gold, red and green, blue and silver and rainbow. Classic Christmas tunes played over a speaker system.

Finn immediately gravitated to the blue and silver tree, ooh’ing and ahh’ing at the incredible sparkling lights and shiny orbs hanging from the branches.

Seth joined him in observation, but merely pretended to look while his hand made its way to inside his pocket to stroke at the hidden box inside.

The trees for sale were kept in a side room, accessed by a long hallway.

Inside, the smell of fresh pine instantly hit whoever entered like a smack.

The trees were set up in columns, each with their own stand, all held together by a metal fence. Little price tags were stuck to one branch of each tree.

A small station was set up in the center of the room, with an employee greeting and helping customers. At her table was mix to make hot cocoa and a plate of sugar cookies for anyone to grab. Seth and Finn shared a cookie and a few extra-sweet kisses as they shopped.

Being tender-hearted as always, Finn was instantly attached to a delicate looking tree. It was smaller than the rest and had a few bare spots from missing or twisted branches.

Seth, on the other hand, chose the tallest and strongest looking tree, not concerned with how it towered over his own body.

After an hour of playful bickering and teasing, and <i>several</i> laps around the entire room, they found and selected a beautiful happy medium- a 6 foot tall Fraser Fir, plump and gorgeous emerald green.

They informed the attendant of their selection and she happily called an assistant over to bag and carry the tree for the boys. They were told to head back to the lobby to pay and they raced each other there.

Instead of getting in line at the checkout desk, Finn returned to the silver and blue tree.

“Baby, pick out an ornament!” Seth suggested when he noticed.

“Really?” Finn looked back with a smile bright enough to envy the tree itself.

“Yeah! Somethin’ you can remember today with…”

Without another word, Finn grinned again and began fluttering around the tree, carefully considering and examining each ornament.

Seth now felt the weight of the box in his pocket, as if it were a hundred pounds. He pretended to look around the ornaments with his boyfriend, feeling his pores break a slight sweat as he waited for the perfect time.

“I like this one… and this one… Seth, they’re all wonderful, I dunno how I could ever choose…”

“Maybe there’s one over on the other trees you’d like more?” Seth heard his voice crack as his nerves seeped in. He quickly cleared his throat and for once, was thankful that Finn’s attention was not directed at him.

“Mmm… Maybe…” Finn drifted away, in the direction of the equally stunning rainbow tree in the opposite end of the room.

This was it. Seth’s chance had made itself known.

Hastily but carefully, he whipped the box from his pocket, looking frantically over his shoulder every five seconds or so. He opened the box, took the plastic ball out- an ornament of his own- and searched for an unoccupied branch to hang it on.

As if on cue, Finn returned a second later, muttering something about how he just liked this tree better.

Seth could feel every nerve in his body dancing about his skin. His stomach was performing somersaults as Finn went back to his searching. He pretended to hum along to Rob Thomas’ “A New York Christmas” until he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

“Baby… Wha-What about this one?” Seth stuttered.

“Which?” Finn perked up.

“Right here…” Seth pointed to what he had just planted on the tree.

Finn’s eyes followed the direction of his finger and when he noticed what had not been there a mere minute before, his jaw dropped open.

What was once a simple plastic ornament had been messily decorated with one of Finn’s own glitter glue pens from his many art projects.

In a brilliant blue glitter, nearly the same color as Finn’s own eyes, Seth had drawn on the ornament:

Finn, Will you marry me? 

“Oh… my... “ Finn brought his hands up to cover his agape mouth.

“Do you… like that one?” Seth offered, feeling the urge to cry or vomit or perhaps even both growing with each excruciating second that passed.

In a flash, Finn was on him.

Seth felt strong legs wrap around his waist as his face was assaulted with wet kisses.

Wet, both from the patternless frenzy Finn’s lips made and from the tears that spilled from his eyes, down his cheeks, and all over Seth.

“Yes, yes! Of course, yes!” Finn cried into Seth’s ear. His words were interrupted both by hiccups and giggles as he continued his loving attack.

“I love you, I love you…” Seth repeated like a holy mantra as he patted and rubbed Finn’s back.

The other customers in the lobby must have caught on to what had happened, as a chorus of ‘aww’ sounded. A few people even applauded.

Seth and Finn heard them but could not stop to acknowledge. They were much too busy exchanging kisses and I love you’s over and over until their lips and voices were sore.

Finn reached over Seth’s shoulder to pluck the homemade ornament from its branch. He stared at it, sloppy handwriting and glitter smudges included, as if it was made of pure gold- like nothing in the world was more precious.

“This is the most beautiful ornament I’ve ever seen…” He whispered so only Seth could hear.

“For the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.” Seth said, grinning against Finn’s ear before giving it a bite.

Finn, not seeming as if he was even considering climbing down from Seth’s chest, squeezed his shoulders a little tighter.

He brought the still-plain side of the ornament to his lips to kiss it before nuzzling his head under Seth’s neck.

No matter if the gingerbread house at home was still a work in progress- their plans for the night would now be dedicated to celebrating what would surely be the most blissful marriage and the happiest Christmas they had ever experienced.

[jamesholden]

Private Channel (2/2)

Months later... MONTHS LATER... here it is. I’ve been really anxious about this but I’m happy with it. I really hope you like it. Show-based but with hints of the book because I couldn’t decide.

Special thanks to @aceryder and @whenimaunicorn for beta-ing this bad boy off and on for months. I really appreciate it. Seriously.

Smut warning, fam. Smut warning.

Part One [ ao3 || tumblr ] ||| Part Two [ ao3 ]

Had there been any gravity, had the Roci been under thrust, Naomi would be tapping her boot against the bulkhead as the airlock cycles. She needs to get inside. Needs to get out of her EVA suit. Amos’ humming in her comms is driving her insane. Not as much as the gnawing need in her belly.

She’d kill Jim if she didn’t so want him between her thighs.

Amos is generous enough to let Naomi enter first, sauntering in behind her as she walks to her station as fast as her boots will let her. She almost falls into her locker pulling her foot through the suit leg. Amos chuckles behind her at his own station. Despite their closeness and the situation, a blush still manages to creep up her neck and she shoots him a dirty look. He’d heard Jim teasing her. She doesn’t think he’ll use it against them. Yet. He’ll do anything to antagonize Jim in his very friendly way.

Her suit and helmet are thrown into her locker haphazardly. Jim would have chided her over the mess had he seen it. For someone who had been kicked out of the Navy, he certainly has the capability to act like he’s still a Lieutenant. It can be kind of cute, seeing him putter around, cleaning messes and reorganizing various rooms when he’s restless. She’s caught Alex and Amos leaving things out or messing things up just to get Jim riled up.

A tiny part of her wants to make more of a mess to get back at him. But then she’d be waiting even longer.

Suit and helmet stowed, Naomi heads for the ladder. She has to get to her cabin. Their cabin. The ache inside her had faded slightly, but she could still feel it pulsing. Waiting for satisfaction.

“Hey, boss?”

Naomi freezes. Throws her head back and groans. “Yes, Amos?” Out of the corner of her eye she sees him cross his arms. Her gaze shifts and she looks at him without turning her head. A grin plays on his lips.

“You two play safe, now. Cap’s new kink has me wondering.”

Naomi snorts. “You’re not worried about us.”

“No, I’m not,” Amos admits with a shrug. “Just wanted to fuck with you.”

“I can’t—” Naomi pauses. Her need-driven brain can’t come up with something suitable to insult him with. Instead, she points at him, brows furrowing. “You and Alex stay off the crew deck until further notice. Understood?”

The grin returns. “You got it, boss.”

Naomi offers him one last nod before storming away to the ladder. She won’t let him stop her again. Jim’s waiting for her.

Once on the crew deck, she beelines for his—their—cabin. Normally she’d just glide, float from handhold to handhold as natural as walking. This situation calls for haste. So she relies on her mag boots to hustle along the corridor. She passes her cabin, now just a private space, closet for some of her tools, and crash couch in case needed. She ponders her cabin, situated next to his, just a moment longer.

Maybe they should take out a bulkhead, make the two cabins one.

The door to the cabin formerly known as “just his” is closed, and for a. moment Naomi’s heart stops. Had he had it open earlier when he’d had her on the comms? She hopes not, and that Alex hadn't walked by during Jim’s teasing. She doesn’t need him to join Amos in tormenting her. How could she ever let herself think Jim alone would be on the receiving ends of their taunts, with family like them?

Naomi pauses and takes a deep breath. With Jim’s promises, who knows when she’ll be able to breathe again. She slides the door open.

Only to find the room devoid of James Holden.

She blinks at the empty room. A set of headphones attached to a hand terminal hovers just over the bed. His boots are gone, his jumpsuit is gone… the headphones, terminal, and the small case of injectors on the desk are the only visible signs he’d been there at all. Hell, he’d even made the bed. She can see where he had been sitting as he’d teased her. Ripples in the tightly tucked blankets betray his presence. She smiles despite her shock and irritation. Typical.

But where is her disrespectful boyfriend? “Find me”, he had said. Find him where? Her eyes drift back to the desk. An empty bulb from yesterday still sits right within Jim’s long reach. Naomi sighs, rubs her eyes. Rubs her thighs together. Of course. She pivots and heads for the only other place he would choose to be.

Naomi manages to avoid Alex and Amos on her way to the galley. She half expects Amos to be lurking. To be cracking jokes or giving her a discreet thumbs up. It can be hard to be the only woman on a ship of men. She’d been lucky so far. It had to run out eventually. Such a shame she couldn’t keep this secret about Jim to herself for a while longer. The only secret he has, really. Compared to her laundry list of them.

Those darker thoughts are banished from her mind once she sees Jim alone in the galley, coffee in hand as he leans against the counter. His face is a mask of perfect innocence to match his casual stance. A dark eyebrow raises at her entrance, and she sees the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Oh, XO Nagata,” he starts, mischief in his voice. “Do you need something?”

Naomi gapes at him. Does she need something? She’d been at the mercy of his teasing and her rising lust for so long. He knows. Of course he knows. And Jim stands there with his infuriatingly innocent smile as it begins to turn smug, sipping at his coffee. She’d be angrier if he didn’t look so good as he leaned, legs and arms crossed, eyeing her over his mug. She opens her mouth to retort, but all that comes out is an irritated choke. She can’t even think of the words to tell him off. His smile grows into a smirk. Bastard.

Naomi crosses the galley in three strides and knocks the mug from his hand. The sealed cup floats away on a collision course with a cabinet as Naomi grabs the collar of her smirking boyfriend’s jumpsuit and pulls him in to crash her lips against his. He makes a surprised sound low in his throat and her hips pin his to the counter behind him. His arms wrap around her, strong and warm and pulling her somehow even closer than she already is. She kisses him until they’re both breathless.

When they finally peel apart, Naomi doesn’t let him go far. Their lips and noses brush as they breathe the same air. Naomi opens her eyes and finds Holden’s warm brown ones trained on her. The heat in her belly intensifies.

“You,” she whispers against his lips, adjusting her grip on his jumpsuit. “I need you.”

Jim blinks at her, breath still coming heavy. Slowly, he grins, tilting his chin up to catch her lips in a quick peck.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

The dance to his cabin is a blur once Jim drops the facade of ignorance. They make it there still dressed, though Jim had shrugged off the top half of his jumpsuit to reveal the black shirt beneath. She's on him as soon as the door slides shut, pressing her lips against his, one hand threading through his hair while the other slips under his shirt seeking warm skin. He shivers, leaving Naomi to wonder if her hands had been too cold. Not that she cares. If she can handle his torture, he can handle a cold hand on his side for a few seconds.

He doesn’t even have to. Before Naomi can go much further, Jim pulls her hand from his shirt, breaks away from her kiss.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he gasps, hand gentle on her wrist. He shoots her a shy grin. “I had this all planned out, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Naomi purrs, pressing against him. “So that wasn't just posturing?”

Jim snorts. “Naomi, you wound me. You think I wouldn’t keep my promises?”

Naomi gives him a sly smile, pulling away and slowly dragging the zipper down on her jumpsuit. “Well then… maybe you should get to work, Captain.”

He licks his lip, eyes flicking from her hand up to her face. “Maybe I should, XO.”

This time, Jim’s on her. He helps her pull the top half of her jumpsuit off, kisses her again as he grips the material of her shirt at her waist. Naomi lifts her arms, letting him pull off her shirt and toss it away. She thinks he sometimes forgets the things he throws won’t land somewhere, that they’ll float around them until Alex gets them under thrust. It’s one of those little things that remind her that her boyfriend is an Earther. One of the more endearing reminders. The chill of the cabin air reaches her bare skin. Jim pulls her against his chest before she can even shiver.

As Naomi loops an arm around the back of his neck, pulls him in for another kiss, she’s given another reminder. Under his shirt and his warm skin lies hard muscle that no Belter could maintain quite the same way. Jim isn't the biggest Earther she’s met. She’d seen many broad, hulking UN soldiers patrolling the tunnels of Ceres in her youth that could easily knock a full-grown Jim on his ass. Still, his leaner frame is well defined from work and exercise, and she always gets a small thrill from tracing the lines of his muscles as he lies beside her.

Jim makes quick work of her bra, using one hand to unclasp it. It’s one talent he has that makes her laugh and him blush. Not that he isn’t the slightest bit proud of it, but he had no intention of trying to impress her with it. To him, it’s just something he can do. It certainly eases the task of keeping each other close in zero g. Naomi smiles against his lips. They both still have their mag boots on; there’s no real reason to hold on to her like this. Though, it does give her an idea.

Naomi breaks away from their kiss, shrugs off her bra, and tosses it behind her as he had done with her shirt. She watches his eyes flick down to catch a glimpse of her bared breasts. True to form, his gaze doesn’t linger. Not yet. He looks back up at her face after just a moment, and she rewards him with a smile. Slipping her hand back into his hair, Naomi pulls him in for another kiss. She shuffles her feet closer together and heels her mag boots off, kicking them away and letting that false sense of gravity release her.

One of Jim’s large, rough hands presses into her back, holding her to him. An anchor in null g. The only thing keeping her from drifting away from his warmth. Normally, she’d be happy to just stay like this. To be held by him, share his space. But his torture had wound her too tight. And pressing against him, kissing him, feeling the soft brush of his shirt against her nipples… it’s making her even more impatient for Jim to get a move on. She tugs at his hair, pushes one of his hands down to her waist.

“Help me get the rest of my clothes off, sailor?” she whispers.

She feels him grin. “With pleasure.”

Keeping one arm around her, Jim helps Naomi peel off her jumpsuit, her panties. He nuzzles the underside of her jaw as he shifts her upwards to slide those final garments down her legs. Naomi lets her eyes close, hums and rests a hand on his shoulder. The tip of his nose trails to the spot just behind her ear that always makes her melt. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses on her sensitive skin and the warmth travels straight to her belly. Naomi sighs as Jim’s lips ghost over her jaw and down the column of her neck. She scratches lightly at his scalp. Enjoys the little hitch she hears in Jim's breathing. He's nowhere near where she really wants him, yet she's certain this is well worth the wait.

Jim pauses when he reaches her tattoo. Naomi groans softly, squirms in his hold. He just chuckles into the crook of her neck.

“Jim,” she breathes.

“Teeth, right?”

She wants to tell him she hates him. To mutter a “fuck you” and pull at his hair, get him away from her. But he’d know there’s no heat behind it. He must know that she can’t take much more. Instead she whines, clings to him a little tighter.

“Yes.”

Naomi gasps as Jim’s teeth scrape gently against her tattoo. Any imagining she had of him while out in her EVA suit could never compare to actually being with him. His solid chest against hers, his hot breath against her skin, his long fingers digging into her hip and back. She’d imagined them as best she could. But it’s nothing like the real thing. She holds his head to her as he nips and kisses across her neck. His stubble scratches her collarbone, drawing another shiver from her.

“Are you going to keep all your promises?”

Jim hums, nuzzling along her collarbone before nipping it as well. “Don’t see why I wouldn’t. Didn’t I just say that?”

“My mistake,” Naomi whispers, kissing his hair and sneaking a hand into the collar of his shirt to touch the warm skin of his back. “I’m a little distracted. Continue.”

Jim snorts, kisses the hollow of her throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

His grip on her loosens and he shifts her up slowly to kiss down her chest. Naomi tightens her thighs against his ribs to further anchor herself to him, lets her eyes close. Jim’s grip is firm, but not tight, and it comforts her as much as it arouses her. So many of the little things he does are steeped in romantics. It’s just who he is. Naomi had been surprised to learn just how erotic she found it.

Maybe it’s because it’s Jim doing it. Jim, a man who loves and respects her both as his partner and as his lover. A man she trusts with her life and more and a man she knows reciprocates it. Those important facets turn all his gentle touches, his long looks, every brush of skin and every word between them into more than just turn-ons. This is how it’s meant to feel like, making love. Anything… anything any of her partners had given her before could never compare to how Jim makes her feel. And likely never will. Not that she has any plans to end what they have.

But all further thought is banished from Naomi’s mind as Jim’s mouth finds her nipple.

Naomi arches with a moan. If it weren’t for Jim’s mag boots and his steady, solid strength, she’d be pulling them both back towards the floor. But he holds onto her, hands splayed over her lower back and between her shoulders as he gently sucks at her breast. Naomi remembers a time where foreplay mattered far less to her than the sex itself. When she had been young and eager and desperate for satisfaction. Jim hadn’t been the one to give her the taste of lingering touches, careful teasing, drawn-out pleasure before the main event that changed her mind. But he’s the one who’s made it addictive, a fact that’s hard to argue when every brush of tongue or teeth against her nipple leaves her gasping for more.

He is too good at this.

Jim kisses across to her other breast, giving it the same attention. Her grip on his hair tightens when he starts using his teeth. It hadn’t been so easy to get him to the first time. He’d been trying to be his best romantic self in those early days—heavy on the lingering touches and hot kisses she’d grown to love before his particular brand—and her request had put him through a loop. The thought of his aghast expression coupled with his hand in her panties, still makes her laugh to this day. But the laugh is lost in a groan as he applies more pressure to his bite, then runs his tongue over her nipple to soothe the sting. She glances down to see him gazing up at her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re distracted,” he near-singsongs, a grin slipping through his serious facade.

Naomi grins back. “I’m thinking about you.”

Jim raises an eyebrow, tilts his head. “Really?” Naomi rolls her eyes, but gives him a nod anyway. His grin widens. “Well… in that case… carry on.”

“You first, honey.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Jim presses a kiss between her breasts before shifting her up again to kiss down her stomach. She loosens her grip on his ribs, trusting him to hold onto her, to keep her close. Naomi shivers as his breath tickles her skin. She isn’t sure which sensation she enjoys most: the heat of his breath or the heat of his lips. Her body jerks when he nuzzles her belly, just below her navel. She kicks her heel against his side in retaliation and earns a chuckle she feels all the way to her core.

Jim shifts her up again, practically lets her go, and Naomi tilts herself back to hook her legs over his shoulders. A large hand splays over the middle of her back, holding her as level as it can. Jim wouldn’t let her float away. With a quick look her way—his resulting grin sending her belly into somersaults—he avoids where she really wants him and kisses up the inside of her thigh. Naomi groans. When she had asked him if he was keeping all his promises, she hadn’t meant for him to take his sweet time torturing her.

Naomi’s eyes follow Jim’s slow trek up her inner thigh. Their eyes meet as he kisses her knee. There had been a time, long ago, when Naomi—hurting, scared, angry, lonely—would have done anything to have those eyes on her like this. Now, with months and experience between them, she finds she doesn’t have to do a damn thing. And she’ll be happy to spend months more just like this. Jim presses a kiss to her other knee, eyes full of promises and still fixed on her. He lingers for a few moments that pass like hours. Then he's kissing slowly down her thigh and she holds her breath.

The first pass of his tongue over her is deliciously slow. Naomi whimpers, arcs her body into the touch. His hand presses up against her back to keep her from pulling them both down. His other hand holds onto her hip, fingers digging into her flesh almost hard enough to cause pain. She likes the tight grip. To know he’s holding onto her. She reaches down to thread her fingers through his hair. On the second pass, he presses more firmly, the tip of his tongue catching on her clit. Naomi chokes out a cry, tightens her grip on his hair. He chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through her.

Jim laps at her, brow furrowed just enough to be noticed. He applies that focus that’s both impressed and infuriated her to making her feel good. Naomi watches him work, teasing his curls between her fingertips. Each breath is punctuated with a soft sound. She rocks her hips as best she can with his hold on her. She craves more friction, but not at the cost of pulling him down with her movements. Only his hand under her back keeps her level. Her thighs tremble from the effort of being clamped over his shoulders.

“Jim,” Naomi gasps. He doesn’t look at her. She repeats his name and waits for him to blink his eyes open, to fix them on her face. He doesn’t pull away from his work. “Please, honey.”

Jim’s grip on her hip tightens for just a second. She feels his shuddering breath against her and shivers herself. They gaze at each other, reading what they both want. Her chest warms. This is intimacy. She’s almost amazed she’s never known it until Jim. Naomi lets her nails rake against his scalp to draw him out of the moment. He blinks, gives her a tiny nod. And lets go of her hip.

Naomi crosses her ankles to ensure she won’t drift away without his hand on her. The hand under her shifts from the small of her back to between her shoulders. She breathes, closes her eyes in anticipation of what’s to come.

The brush of his thumb over her folds is too light. Naomi groans, pulls at his hair. He laughs again. He doesn’t tease her anymore. He pushes a finger into her—it’s not enough nowhere near it but it’s something—and she hums low and long. He works his finger in and out of her, taking care to brush against her walls until she’s squirming in his hold. Little gasps escape her. She rocks her hips, trusting his hand on her shoulder to keep her movements from ruining the moment.

It’s another few moments before he adds a second finger. Naomi lets out a low moan. It’s not what she wants, but the sensation of two of Jim’s long fingers inside her is certainly nothing to scoff at. The soft sounds she makes get louder, more frequent. Holden’s breath comes quick, ghosting over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh where his mouth rests. It takes more effort than she’d like, but Naomi lifts her head to catch his eyes. A flash of heat shoots straight through her at the sight of him watching his fingers rock in and out of her.

“Jim,” she whispers, tugging at his hair again. He hums, his eyes meeting hers once more. He blinks.

She doesn’t have to say anything else.

Jim shifts and flicks his tongue against her clit. Naomi cries out, her grip on his hair tightening. Her other hand, which lay fisted on her stomach, slides up to cup her breast. She kneads it, brushes her thumb over her nipple with a shuddering sigh. Eyes still locked on hers, Jim closes his mouth around her clit and gently sucks. Naomi jerks with another cry, but Jim holds her steady.

Jim alternates sucking and licking in time with the thrusting of his hand. His gaze lingers on her face, watching her closely even as he works. She can feel the hand supporting her trembling from the effort of being held up for too long. Still, he takes his time, slows the pace to one she prefers. She’d rush him along if necessary. But as desperate as she is for her climax, she wants this to last as long as possible. Naomi hums and whines and moans as she kneads her breast and rocks her hips into Jim’s touch. She can feel the welcome and familiar tightening in her belly.

Naomi breathes his name between moans. She doesn’t need to say anything else. Jim knows the signs well enough by now. He finally closes his eyes, refocusing on the task at hand. Naomi keeps watching him over the twitching muscles of her stomach and her still working hand. He sucks harder on her clit, brushes his fingers against her walls again and drawing needier, high-pitched sounds from her throat. Her breath comes faster. The urge to clench her eyes shut is overwhelming but she fights it. His eyes flutter open to lock on hers.

Jim nips her clit quick but firm as he crooks his fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture inside her. The string inside her snaps. Naomi comes with a sharp, loud cry, pulling at Jim’s hair and squeezing her breast. He presses up against her shoulder as she arcs. His hand keeps moving, and Naomi rocks against it to draw out her high. Before she can tell him she’s had enough, before she can even find the energy to open her mouth, Jim pulls his fingers from her. It makes her warm that he knows her so well.

She can feel Jim’s breath on her skin, warming her as the air around them cooled her. Jim pulls his hand away from her shoulder. Naomi lets herself float, closes her eyes and smiles to herself. So worth the fucking wait. She taps her heel against his back; her legs hooked over his shoulders are the only thing keeping them together. He lightly rests his hand on her thigh, giving her the time. More intimacy. His other hand moves to her hip, thumb brushing over her skin.

Naomi hums. “Jim?”

“Yes, love,” he mutters, kissing her knee. His voice sounds more wrecked than usual.

“You’re lucky you were able to deliver. I was about five seconds from strangling you for teasing me like that.”

Jim laughs. A rare sound saved only for the crew. “I would have deserved it.”

“At least you admit it.” She pats the hand resting on her hip and shifts her upper body up. Jim gets the message and helps her straighten. He wraps an arm around her waist and holds her against his chest as she hooks one arm around his neck again. She leans in to kiss him, slow and deep. She can taste herself on his lips.  “Thank you.”

Jim smiles, kisses her again. “Thanks aren’t really necessary. But you’re welcome.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she teases, rubbing her nose against his as she rests her free hand on his side. “You enjoy doing that.”

“Mm. So I should be thanking you.”

“Not before,” she starts, brushing her lips against his. She shifts her hand. “We take care of you.” She kisses him and slips her hand into his jumpsuit, into his boxer briefs.

Jim gasps into her mouth. Naomi grins as she strokes him. It feels good to turn the tables on him. To have him where he’d had her. It would feel better once he’s as naked as she is. Jim presses his forehead to hers, squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fuck, Naomi,” he rasps, nuzzling her cheek as arm tightens around her.

Naomi hums, catching his lips with hers. “Like you didn’t get an early start, all warm and alone in our cabin.”

“I didn’t. I waited. Thought you might kill me if I didn’t.”

Of course he didn’t. I’m with a perfect gentleman. “Well, aren’t you patient.”

“Doubt it will last,” Jim growls, hand moving to the panel on the desk as she continues to touch him. It beeps when he opens the comms. “Alex? We still pointed at Tycho?”

There’s a pause before their pilot responds. “Uh... yeah, Hoss. Should be an easy burn.”

Naomi tilts her head to nip at his jaw, gently squeezes him. Jim struggles to stay quiet. But a soft whimper still escapes him.

“Great. Third of a G. Soon as possible.”

“You okay, Hoss? You sound a little—”

“Third of a G, Alex!” He hits the comm button harder than necessary, and Naomi laughs into his neck.

“You were right. It didn’t last.”

Jim huffs a laugh. Naomi presses kisses to the underside of his jaw, slowing her hand to a more teasing pace. He whimpers again. Naomi’s said it before and she’ll say it again: she loves how easy it is to draw every little sound out of him. Especially the ones that are less than masculine. He breathes her name when she nips at his pulse, moans it when she pulls at him. He says it once more, his tone more urgent and she pulls away to look at him. He gives her a weak smile.

“As… incredible as this feels… maybe you should get in the bed before Alex starts thrust. To be safe.”

Naomi blinks at him. “How did I find such a gentleman?”

“Honey,” he laughs, glancing down at her hand in his jumpsuit, “‘gentleman’ is a bit strong of a word, here.”

“Oh, hush.” She kisses him, pulls her hand away to a soft whine from him. “You’re plenty gentlemanly. However…” She pushes off him to float back to their bed, giving him as coy a grin as she can manage. “You have to do one thing for me in return.”

“And what’s that?”

Naomi grabs onto the bulkhead with one hand and points at him with the other.

“Shirt. Off. Gotta give me something to look at if I have to wait for you.”

Jim rolls his eyes but does as she asks, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it behind him. It hovers like all the other clothes he’s thrown and Naomi can’t help but laugh. She bites her lip as she gazes at the expanse of pale skin over hard muscle, his open jumpsuit sat low on his hips. She jokes about being with him for his cute butt. But really… it’s the whole package. He advances on her, gait slow and expression too amused to feel predatory. She grins and beckons him with the same finger she’d pointed with. He shakes his head.

“You should be in the bed before Alex starts burning for Tycho.”

“Kiss me first and I will be.”

“You’re giving a lot of orders, XO,” Jim chides, voice low. Still, he steps closer. Naomi wills his jumpsuit to slide off but she knows it won’t. Jim places a rough hand on her hip, cups her jaw with the other.

She grins up at him. “Then stop taking them from me, Captain.”

He snorts. “You say that as if it were so easy.” He leans in and kisses her again, thumb stroking over her jaw. She wraps a hand around his wrist. Not much about them is easy. Being from two different worlds, working together, seeing the best and worst in each other. But this? Being with him, in his arms right now in their cabin, kissing him against their bunk? This is easy.

When they finally break apart, panting and gazing at each other, Jim’s lips twist in a smirk and he gives her enough of a push to send her into the bunk. Naomi laughs as she braces against the screen above the bed.

“Now who’s pushy and impatient?”

“I’m not ashamed.”

Alex starts the burn to Tycho not moments later. Naomi drops onto the mat and sinks in. Jim looks like it’s a minor inconvenience, like he’s on a lift, with a soft grunt and a furrowed brow. The clothes he's thrown around the room drop to the floor all at once, drawing laughs out of the both of them.

Jim rarely orders a burn harder than half a g, for her and Alex’s comfort. Mostly for her. It’s easier on her. None of them had fared well in the burn to target Eros. But as a Belter she’d had it worse, and Jim had been startled and worried upon seeing the blood dripping from her nose and hearing the rasp of her breathing. He'd hovered as the auto doc checked her out and fixed her bones and lungs. And never burned more than she was used to again.

Once his body has acclimated to being under gravity once more, Jim heels off his mag boots and kicks them away. His socks soon follow. But he leaves his jumpsuit on, smirking as he climbs into the bed between her legs. His hips press against hers, drawing a groan from her that he cuts off with a kiss. She slips one hand into his hair and reaches down to push at his waistband.

“I need you,” Naomi whispers against his lips, teasing her fingers along his hip. “No more games.”

Jim’s breath hitches. He pulls back just enough to see her face. He blinks, his gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he breathes.

They work together to shove his jumpsuit and briefs off, to get him as naked as she is. There’s a scary pause when Jim gets his foot caught and almost falls out of the bed, but she catches him and kisses him through their laughter.

“Okay.“ He nuzzles her cheek as he settles back onto his forearms, rocks himself against her to draw another sigh from her. “That was the last one.”

“You promise?” She pokes his side with her knee.

He grins against her lips. “I promise.”

Naomi shifts, reaches between them to take hold of him. His brows draw together as lets out a soft “ah” and it’s her turn to smile. He’s waited too long. She’s waited too long. She catches his eyes one last time. He winks. Naomi lines them up, and Jim eases into her until their hips meet and they’re both shaking.

Jim presses his forehead to hers as Naomi hums. This is what she’s wanted. What she’s been waiting for. For Jim to be at home inside her, not teasing her. She tips her chin up to kiss him. As much as she appreciates his waiting for her to adjust… she’s done enough waiting. While she has him distracted, she rocks her hips up against his, and he gasps into her mouth. That should get his attention.

He starts slow. Every thrust deep and lingering just like his kisses. Naomi moves a hand to his back, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin. She loves this pace. Hell, she loves sex with Jim in general. But this, the lack of urgency to fulfill his own needs before her, the desire to build and build to what they both want… Just more evidence of how different he is. She closes her eyes as she moans. It’s not enough.

Naomi hooks a leg over his hip, pulling him against her. He groans into her neck, a low, broken sound. She loves hearing that he’s as wrecked as she is. She threads her fingers through his hair, holds him to her.

“Faster, honey. Please.”

Jim shivers. “Okay.”

When he moves again, he does exactly as she asks. Naomi gasps, tipping her head back, exposing her neck to his mouth. Teeth scrape against her skin and a strangled sound escapes her throat. Naomi rocks her hips up to meet his. Her blunt nails dig into his back and his scalp. His breath tickles her jaw just behind her ear. She longs to hold him close, to press him flush against her and take comfort in his weight and warmth. But that can wait. She doesn’t want him to stop.  

Familiar heat coils in her belly like a spring. Moans and mewls and gasps—in chorus with harsh breaths, soft groans, growls, and whimpers—come louder and higher pitched. Her second orgasm is close but not close enough. She presses her cheek to the side of Jim’s head and catches her name falling breathlessly from his lips.

“Jim,” she sighs, kissing his hair.

He groans, thrusting hard to draw a cry out of her. “Naomi,” he whines against her jaw. “I can’t… I don’t…”

Naomi hums and rotates her hips when they meet again, earning another whimper from him. “I know. Almost there. It’s okay, it’s—”

Jim lifts his head to cut her off with a kiss. It’s hard and messy and almost everything Naomi wants. She clings to him, kissing him back with a matching intensity. He pulls away, weight shifting to one side, and she whines at the loss. She opens her eyes to gaze up at him, to fix him with a dirty look or to call him a name, but the argument quickly dies in her throat.

He’s staring back at her. Brow furrowed, lips parted, gaze studying her face but mostly her eyes. Some small part of her wants to look away, the length of eye contact making her uncomfortable. The lack of movement, unsatisfying. The rest of her, however—the most important parts of her— revels in the attention. The heat of his gaze tightens her inner coil further. He’s still close enough that she could kiss him if she wanted to. Tilt her chin up so their lips would meet.

But then his fingers are on her clit and she can’t think of anything at all.

Naomi cries his name, arching into him and his touch. She hears a hitch in Jim’s breathing and focuses her gaze back on him. Awe glows in his widened eyes. The intensity is still too hard for her to look directly at. She pulls his head down to press his forehead to hers. When she rocks into him again, his eyes finally close, screwing shut with a soft sound from the back of his throat.

Jim lets her control the pace, still meeting her thrusts but focussing on teasing her clit. Alternating feather-light touches with firm presses to draw out whimpers and moans. Their lips brush as they move, breathing each other’s air. Every breath comes with small noises from both of them, each one louder and higher-pitched than the last. The coil is almost too tight. She’s almost there. Judging by how Jim trembles under her hands, he’s not far behind.

“Jim.” She tilts her chin up to catch his lips. He hums. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

He makes a strangled sound, eyes blinking open to look at her again. She meets his gaze, and he shudders. He rubs at her clit with renewed vigor, hips stuttering against hers enough to draw her closer. He groans, buries his face in her neck. Naomi nuzzles into his hair. Clings to his shoulders. She’s too hot, too tightly wound, and she pants and moans as it builds and builds. Until, finally, the coil snaps and Naomi comes with a wail that she no longer cares if Alex and Amos can hear. She lets herself get lost in an orgasmic haze, vaguely aware of Jim coming with a cry of his own.

Naomi hums as she melts back into the mattress, idly stroking Jim’s hair as he relaxes into her. Depending on the intensity of a burn, he can be too heavy for her to bear. But in this fractional gravity, he’s a warm, comforting weight. There’s nowhere else she’d want him to be. She feels his blunt nails trailing along her side as he catches his breath and returns the favor up and down his spine. He shivers.

“So,” Naomi starts, still breathless. “I think it’s time we finally lay some private channel ground rules, right, honey?”

Jim laughs, his breath tickling her neck. He pushes up onto an elbow with a groan. “What, and spoil our fun?”

“Fun?” Naomi raises an eyebrow. “That was absolute fucking torture, Jim. I couldn’t even touch myself.”

“All right, all right. No spacewalk teasing. Unless one of us really deserves it.”

Naomi snorts. “Meaning I owe you one.”

“Bring it on,” Jim rumbles, grinning wide and leaning down to kiss her. “Next spacewalk I take, you get a free pass. See if I can hide it from Amos better than you did.”

Naomi hits his shoulder blade. “Pashang inyalowda, that was your fault!”

Jim laughs, smile wide and bright and contagious. “I’ll take the blame. Can’t argue with the results.”

No, she really can’t. Jim pulls out of her, and they both groan at the loss. But before he can roll to the side like he always does, Naomi stops him with the hand on his back, pulling him back towards her.

“Stay? It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Jim blinks at her. The wonder flashes through his eyes again. “Really? You sure?”

She grins up at him, trails her fingertips down his jaw. “I’m sure. You’re not that heavy, Earther. I promise. Stop worrying.”

He watches her face a moment longer before grinning, nodding. Jim pulls the sheets up over them. He settles back down against her, head on her shoulder, arms tucked beneath hers so she can keep both around him. They both go quiet; the only sounds around them coming from the ship and their breathing as she resumes petting his back, toying with his hair. He hums deep in his throat.

“Don’t get mad if I fall asleep on you,” he slurs, nuzzling the base of her neck.

“I won’t. It’s okay.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ve got nowhere else to be.”

In the silence that follows—relative silence, Jim snores—Naomi’s mind wanders many places. The narrow corridors of Ceres, hodge-podge belter ships, small hands pulling at her hair, a cozy hole with another warm body and hot hands. But every time her thoughts get close to something too hard to come back from, they drift back to the present. To Jim and his soft snores. She smiles and nuzzles into his hair again.

“I think I love you,” she whispers.

It’s not a private channel, but it’s still only for his ears. And she hopes one day she can tell him when he’s listening.

[travelxbritt-blog]

10 TIPS ON HOW TO SAVE UP FOR YOUR NEXT TRIP

If you are wondering how to save big for your next trip, you’ve come to the right place.

When I ask others why they don’t travel, the answer almost all of the time is money.

Isn’t it bizarre how much power a little piece of paper has over our lives?

What if we paid closer attention to where the money is actually going?

I want to inform you that whatever travels plans you have, it’s not impossible, in fact, it’s actually incredibly doable. If you prioritize successfully, you’ll be on that trip sooner than you think. You don’t have to get into debt to travel either.

When I went on my Europe trip I noticed a pattern of friends and foes DMing me, “How are you traveling so much?” There’s no real secret. Just like you save up for a car, or for an apartment, it is the same exact way you can save to travel. Prioritize and limit spending. In this post, I’ve included everything I’ve done and still do to help me save to travel and maintain my travel lifestyle. If you are looking to learn how I started traveling, you can read about that here.

These tips and thinking processes below are exactly what helped me save 10k within 4 months.

1. PAY OFF YOUR DEBTS

Strategy # 1 Eliminate all your debts. Before you start saving, make sure you don’t owe anything. Having no debts helps you save everything for yourself. If I had debt, I would focus on paying that off before trying to save, if not, you’re technically negative and that’s not helpful. Interest can catch up if you choose to avoid this. Paying interest is never a useful way to spend your money. When I refer to paying off these debts, I’m not talking about student loans or mortgages. I’m talking about things like credit card bills and the debt you can pay off relatively fast. I don’t think anyone pays off their student loans right away so the debts I’m talking about in this passage are everyday debts.

Take action: If you have debt, come up with a game plan to get out of it. Work on this plan and stay consistent until you are back at 0 and don’t owe. Once you are at 0 you can start to save for your next trip with that extra money.

2. IDENTIFY NEEDS VS. WANTS

Before you start physically saving, you should identify what are your true needs vs wants. Need = something you need to survive, no exceptions. Some examples: food, water, shelter, minimal amount of clothing, etc. Wants = Things you don’t need but urge to have because you desire them. Some examples: cocktails, frappes, fancy clothes, eating out, etc. You don’t need any of this to survive. These are luxuries. The biggest point here is to know what you truly need (to survive) to help identify your pointless expenses. The money spent on pointless expenses is the money you could be saving. The more you cut out, the more you will save. It’s simple.

Take action: Figure out ALL of your expenses – What are your absolute life necessities? Are there any luxuries you absolutely can’t live without? Write it down somewhere so you have a mental note on how to move forward. Ask yourself before you pay for anything, is this a true need or a want? Do you really need it?

3. BECOME A MINIMALIST

Now that you’ve identified your needs vs wants, I recommend maintaining a minimal lifestyle. But first! What is minimal? Cambridge Dictionary defines minimal as – very small in amount. Maintaining a minimal lifestyle means living a very basic life. It’s living with what you need and that’s that. This prevents useless expenses and more financial burdens for you. It’s a great way to save for your next trip because you’ll limit the unnecessary expenses. It starts to become second nature after some time. If you want to keep traveling, you have to be mindful of these things.

This could be hard if you are attached to material things – but think of the bigger picture. Money in your hands or possessions? You pick. Have you ever looked at your closet and realized how much of your clothes you DON’T wear? Right, I’ve definitely been there. Now think of the people who don’t even have a shirt on their back. Right, I’ve been there too. It sucks! You are only one physical person. Trust me, there are only so many events and so many places you can wear these clothes too. Limit consumption!

Take action: Look into anything you have in excessive amounts. Stop buying whatever you have in excess. What can you sell that you have an excessive amount of? Too many clothes? Video games? Electronics? Sell it! That’s money sitting on the table if you don’t use these items. This will also help clear out your environment which will continue to promote a minimal lifestyle.

4. DON’T BE A BIG CONSUMER

Not being a big consumer goes hand in hand with minimalism. For saving purposes, don’t be a big consumer. To consume means to use, to use, you need to buy products to use. In other words, if you want to save, you will have to limit consumption. In the past, one would probably call me the ideal consumer. To think about it now, I cringe – Why was I so convinced to purchase ….. everything?! It was so ridiculous.

My point isn’t to consume anything, my point is to know the difference between your needs and wants and limit it so it doesn’t go overboard. In other words, don’t get into overspending or even worst, debt!

Take action: What can you stop buying today that will save you money? Are you buying anything that you truly can’t afford? Is there a cheaper option if you can’t live without it? Reorganizing how you will consume is a great way to save up for your next trip. This has helped me SO much in my personal life. If I don’t need it, I don’t really even have interesting in buying it.

5. BECOME PSYCHO ABOUT WHERE YOUR MONEY GOES

People have a hard time-saving. Yet, if you take a deeper look at it, it is usually careless spending. Careless spending is also when people go above their means in life.

Can you afford what you want with your salary? Should you be living in a smaller apartment? Be realistic. Should you be driving a cheaper car? The only one who will have to pay back that debt is you, so really think about your money.

Start tracking your money, every day. Every transaction, calculate it. If you pay for it, calculate it. Know where every dollar goes. I’ve found that any moment I leave to not pay attention to my finances, it can get messy – quick. If we want to be on top of our finances, we have to pay attention to everything financially related.

Take action: Track your statements to the T. Having this knowledge and organization of your finances helps you save for your trips and to save overall. Know what your spending on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. This way when you log into online banking you don’t gasp and have a heart attack when you look at your balance. You know what to expect and understand your statements.

6. WORK MORE/GET A SIDE HUSTLE

If you need more money, you’ll have to work for it somehow, someway. Can you work extra hours at your current job? If not, get a side hustle. You can be a server at a restaurant, maybe do something online, the options are endless.

The side hustles I did to save for my travels were bartend, promote brands, and be a brand ambassador. There are LOADS of Brand Ambassading and Promotion companies out there. Companies hire all the time, there are always events and people are always needed. I’m signed up with countless promotional agencies. The favorites that I would highly recommend are TEAM, Beacon Brand Solutions, and Next Level Marketing. These companies pay 20-50$ per hour, depending on the event. It is an easy peasy lemon squeezy way to make a quick $100-150 a day, which adds up quickly over time.

Disclaimer: Please note, promotion and BA work is not really consistent work. Meaning you won’t really be able to turn into a full-time income. I have tried this once and it’s not worth the energy. To do so, you’ll have to sign up for a million agencies. In my honest opinion, it’s more exhausting getting contracted to do this type of work than it is doing the job. These options are a side hustle, definitely make it your extra income, not the 9-5 replacement.

Take action: Look into whatever other side gigs interest you. Apply, start working, start saving!

7. EAT OUT LESS AND COOK MORE –

Restaurants mark up food at insane rates. How else would they make a profit? Start cooking and eating more at home. A lot of people have food as a huge expense in their life. Being mindful of this will help you save for a trip by not paying for overpriced food.

How to compromise:

Eating out with friends is a social activity. Sometimes it’s hard to turn down that dinner invite to save a few dollars. I get it! But some options for the whole crew to save are -why not have a potluck at a friend’s house or go to a friend’s house to cook together? It’s fun and intimate. (you won’t have to shout at your friends across the table to hear them like in a restaurant.)

If you’re absolutely not budging and have to eat out, here are some tricks to save while dining out:

Always avoid the extras i.e cocktails and desserts.

Use eating out with friends to your advantage. I.e Split something! In America, a lot of the portions are inappropriately huge. Odds are it’ll probably be a lot of food and you won’t end up finishing all of it.

If you want to see price ranges so there are no surprises when you get there, try to look online for the menu. Most restaurants have a preview. The price isn’t always there but it’s worth a try.

8. LIMIT ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION

Those 7 drinks you had on Saturday, yeah it adds up. Your average bar in NYC charges $7-17 dollars for cocktails. Multiply that by 7 thats a whopping $49-$119! Just on alcohol. This is not including if you’re eating out too. Going out for the sole purpose of drinking adds up, too quick. It is an expense.

How to compromise –

Pregame! I’m not saying to not go out, I’m saying to go out smarter. Usually, on a big night out, my friends and I meet up at someone’s house before the event to have a few drinks. A 6 pack of beer at most liquor stores is about $10-15. Compare this to a bar in NYC, it will probably be about $5-7 for one beer. Not only does this help you save for your next trip, but it also helps you avoid the crowd that’s always hovering over the bar. Odds are, by the time you get to the place, you won’t need any more booze. You’ll be set!

9. LIMIT CAR SERVICE AND TAKE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION –

Ah, yes. Uber everywhere. Until you look at your bank account and say I spent how much? to go where?! Think again. For the most part, when I was hopping around in NYC, I’d pull up Google maps to see my time to my destination. Not even joking, 75% of the time it took the same exact time to go in an uber than to ride a subway. Who wants to ride the subway? Absolutely no one, especially in NYC! But! Who wants to pay extra overhead charges just to sit in traffic? Think ahead.

How to compromise –

Use public transportation. You can’t compare $3.00 for subway fare to $30 for one uber ride. That’s a 10x mark-up. Be smart about using a car service. If you really have to use it, make it a one-off occasion. Not your daily habit. Or better yet, when you do take car service, try to split the fare amongst friends. It will help you save for your next trip big time.

10. STOP BUYING COFFEE BEFORE WORK

Mm, coffee. It’s a luxury sometimes, isn’t it? Whether you think it is or it isn’t, it’s money being spent buying it daily.

Let’s say your coffee go-to place is Starbucks. For your usual order, you get a frappe that’s $4-5 dollars. 5 x 30 (days of the month) = 120, 120 x 12 (months of the year) = $1,440 a year. That’s just on coffee, imagine if you get a pastry or something else.

This will not help us save up for a trip. Overpriced and a perfect example of another unnecessary expense. Your job probably provides free coffee. Utilize it! If you don’t like the blend, buy your own or bring your own from home. If you work from home, buy a coffee maker and make your own. A very simple solution that will save you over $1,000 a year.

**Bonus pointer – If you are not sure how much money to save for your next trip, having an idea of your destination helps a lot. Figure out what a daily rate would be to visit this destination. You can even try to come up with an itinerary so you know what a good ballpark is. Always have more money saved to visit a destination than less. This way you have more flexibility and aren’t on such a tight budget.

Aaaaaand that’s a wrap! I genuinely hope you found these tips useful. Adopting this mindset is what helped me save 10k in 4 months for my travels in 2017. Nobody pays for my travels, but me. No rich parents, no credit cards, no rich man, just my hard-earned money. If you really want to go on a big trip, save and you can make it happen. We prioritize to spend on a new laptop, a new camera, travel is no different. There’s no hidden secret or unattainable tricks but work, save and pay attention to where the money’s going.

Once you’re on the road enjoy your travels, you’ve worked hard for this! Enjoy your travels, your way!

Happy traveling my friends!

XO,

Britt

[greggsdiabetes-blog]

The Secret to Happiness? Simplify.

New Post has been published on http://www.greggsdiabetes.com/the-secret-to-happiness-simplify/

The Secret to Happiness? Simplify.

For centuries, people leaned into the popular (and false) belief that possession—material wealth and stature—was synonymous with happiness. But now minimalism is on the rise, and for good reason: it works. With the popular Netflix film Minimalism: A Documentary About Important Things and the massive bestselling book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up emphasizing the benefits of decluttering, it's no surprise that more and more people are cleaning out gear closets, streamlining their workouts, and buying less stuff. Because when you do, there's way more room for adventure.

#1. Purge

The first piece of furniture I ever bought kept me up at night. I was 25 years old, and the offending item was a 60-pound oak armoire the color of whiskey and the size of a standard refrigerator. It wasn’t the price or the quality of its construction that triggered the angst. It was what it represented. I now owned something that couldn’t fit in my rooftop RocketBox. I saw my adult life beginning, along with a relentless accumulation of more stuff. That armoire was the loss of my freedom.

Looking around my house nearly 20 years later, my vision was prescient. I’ve col­lected more things than I want, and finding a place to put them all is a daily struggle. My twenty­something anxiety wasn’t un­founded, ­either. Research has revealed a troubling paradox: not only is clutter a cause of stress, but so is getting rid of things. For some people, the very act of shedding a possession triggers activity in the anterior cingulate cortex and the ­insula, the same parts of the brain that register physical pain. Which explains why millions of Americans, including me, have plunked down $10 for yet another possession: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, a bestseller by Japanese cleaning consultant ­Marie Kondo. According to Kondo, dealing with your clutter can improve your well-being. “A dramatic reorganization of the home causes correspondingly dra­matic changes in lifestyle and perspective,” she writes. “It is life transforming.”

I bought my copy thinking it would be a needed catalyst for the garage-cleaning project I’d been putting off for two years. Inside is my gear stash, proof of a lifetime of adventure and the only possessions I’d truly mourn in a house fire. Crampons that have felt summits from the Cascades to the Hima­layas. My first road bike. The BOB stroller that logged hundreds of miles as I trained for ultras and jogged my two small children to sleep. A lot of this stuff hasn’t been used in years, rendered obsolete by shinier new toys or my shifting passions. It was piling up. The issue came to a head when my fiancée moved in, along with her own stockpile. But any hopes that I would realize Kondo’s magic by confronting the mountains of sentiment in the garage were extinguished within the first few pages of her book. In rigid terms, she describes a “tidying marathon,” an all in, months-long project that will fail if not completed. If I didn’t address my entire household inventory—­closets, drawers, cabinets, everything—I would return to a state of unwanted clutter.

The garage would have to wait. I started by moving through Kondo’s list of categories in the prescribed order: “Clothes first, then books, papers, miscellany, and lastly, mementos.” The process forced me to confront those myriad places that attract random junk. The kitchen counter always littered with mail and school announcements. Bathroom cabinets stocked with bottles and tinctures. And that damn armoire, in which I discovered an incongruous collection of candleholders, board games, place mats, two puzzles, an extension cord, a New Mexico atlas, and an ancient video camera that records on something called MiniDisc. I took on these hoarding stations armed with a garbage bag (trash it) and a box (give it away). I purged like I was at a peyote ceremony. Over several days, I made four trips to Goodwill, where the staff began to recognize me.

Clothes, books, paper—those were easy. My garage came last, for it was filled with the high-end sporting gear that we adventurous types classify as mementos. It was here that my trust in Kondo’s method was tested. Her advice for deciding on whether or not to keep something: touch it, be aware of the feeling it triggers, and ask yourself, “Does it spark joy?” When I thought of my prized quiver of skis, bikes, and camping stoves (six of them!), I pictured Kondo asking the question and me defiantly answering “Hell yes!” to all of it.

One Sunday morning, I clicked the ­garage-door opener and confronted nostalgia’s grip. I started with the camping equipment. After careful consideration, stoves one, two, and three registered no spark. Neither did way too many headlamps, stuff sacks, first-aid kits, and ground pads. My first real trial was the sleeping bag I took on multiple cross-country family road trips as a kid. It was in that bag that I slept soundly in the back of our station wagon as my parents drove all night from the north rim to the south rim of the Grand Canyon to catch the sunrise. Running my hands over its greasy seams, I felt a powerful sentimental joy. I also realized that the memories it evoked were inside my head, not its weathered nylon. I put it in the giveaway box. There were three pairs of cross-country skis, each having carried me through the 40-mile Elk Mountain Grand Traverse. I’ve always liked seeing them propped against the wall, proof of my feats. But joy? It wasn’t sparked. I tried to draw the line at my first pair of telemark skis. No matter that they’re comically skinny, I thought, these babies rip. But now I was on a roll. I threw them in with the sleeping bag.

I went on like this for several more weekends, pawing flat soccer balls, tired camp chairs, and outdated bike wheels. Eventually, I whittled down my treasures to my absolute favorites and began reorganizing the space according to Kondo’s strict instructions—no piles. Finally, one recent evening, preparing for my first skin up the local ski hill, I felt a little bit of the magic. The real evil of clutter, the one I’d feared at age 25, was its ability to bog you down. Do I want to go backcountry skiing at 6 a.m. when the process requires an hour of rounding up misplaced necessities? Nope. I’ll just sleep in. But that night I ­entered the newly overhauled space, and all the items I needed—poles, skins, helmet, gloves, skis—were in exactly the right place.

I’d be lying if I said my life has been transformed. I haven’t touched my office yet. And I’ve actually noticed an increase in angst over the places that I’ve yet to tackle. But if tidying is indeed a marathon, I have faith in Kondo’s metaphor. I know how shedding weight and completing a long-distance ­trial brings on a curious euphoria. Kondo estimates that her tidying marathons take clients around six months, and I will keep running. But she’ll have to pry my BOB stroller from my cold, dead hands. —Christopher Keyes, editor

#2. Put Down the Phone

"You don't need to tweet or post during your adventure unless you're a sponsored athlete whose livelihood depends on it. I promise you that no one really cares. I've grown to love it when an expedition starts and the bars on my my phone dwindle down to uselessness. That's a sure sign that I'm headed in the right direction." —Guide Dave Hahn, who has summited Mount Everest 15 times

#3. Make It a Liquid Lunch

“Soup is a nutrition life-hack,” says ­Nicole Centeno, author of the cookbook Splendid Spoon and CEO of the soup-­delivery company of the same name. “It’s efficient and nourishing and keeps you fueled for hours outside without weighing you down.” It’s also a foolproof one-pot wonder. Buy a stack of plastic pint containers for single-serving storage in the fridge or freezer, and reheat for lunch as needed. Centeno’s favorite hearty soup, kale and lentil, is ­loaded with fiber and protein and made with ingredients you likely already have at home.

Kale and Lentil Soup (Serves 4)

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 small onion, diced

2 large carrots, diced

1 rib celery, diced

1 large garlic clove, minced

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 tablespoon Madras curry powder

3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 pound dried red lentils, rinsed and drained

1/2 pound dried green lentils, rinsed and drained

2 quarts water

2 cups thinly sliced lacinato kale

Sea salt to taste

Process

Warm the oil in a pot over medium heat. Cook the onion, carrots, and celery, stirring frequently, for ten minutes or until tender. Stir in the garlic, pepper, curry, and cinnamon, and cook for one minute.

Increase the heat to high, add the lentils and water, and bring to a boil. Add the kale, cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 30 minutes or until the mixture thickens, the lentils are tender, and the kale is wilted.

Stir in the salt. Serve hot.

#4. Lighten Up

"I value celebration, possibly more than I should. You have to relish your accomplishments and take time off. I also have a terrible sweet tooth, and I don't care. I will continue to eat Sour Patch Kids. I usually have three two-pound bags in my room. There's a fine line between being anal retentive and being purposeful. Everything I do, I do with purpose." —Ultrarunner Clare Gallagher, who won the 2016 Leadville Trail 100 Women's Division by two hours.

#5. Choose a Uniform

Steve Jobs wore a black turtleneck and jeans every day. Mark Zuckerberg lives in a hoodie. Yes, they’re tech geeks—but not having to think about clothing frees up all kinds of mental energy for more important tasks. So what’s a style-conscious active person supposed to wear? Consider this foundational formula from Peter Buchanan-Smith, founder of Manhattan clothing and gear company Best Made.

Chambray shirt:"Chambray is far more versatile than flannel—it can be worn with jeans or trousers. The material is timeless. Once you find the perfect shirt, buy five."

Sweater jacket:"Best Made's shawl-collar sweater, with super-heavy, 100 percent western wool, is my armor. I wear it fly-fishing, as a winter jacket in the city, and under a rain shell.”

Aviator sunglasses:“Randolph Engineering’s are classic. You can’t go wrong.”

High-quality belt: “I wear Best Made’s Gfeller belt almost daily.”

Dark-wash jeans: “Levi’s 501’s. You get so much for the price, and they only get better with age. ”

Good socks: “Wool blend. Not too thick, not too thin.”

Rugged boots: "I don’t think it’s overkill to have burly leather ankle boots as your daily staple, even in New York. I’d pick the Danner Rainforest. They’re like the Land Rover Defender of boots.”

#6. Skimp on Gym Time

One of the pillars of the modern approach to fitness is the belief that gym-based strength training is essential, even for endurance athletes. Problem is, many of us take things too far. Two-time Olympic skier turned strength coach Eva Twardokens is part of a growing chorus of fitness professionals who ­argue that amateur athletes don’t need to spend more than two hours a week working out between walls. The upshot: you can spend a lot more time playing outside. “The danger for a lot of people is over­exercising,” says Twardokens.

She closely analyzed just how much gym work she needed to continue to perform at a high level. “I boiled it down to the essentials and created Minimum Dose, Maximum Effect,” she says. “The idea is to do the least amount of training that allows for good body composition and supports the activities in your life without wearing your joints down.” Twardokens, a ­National Masters Weightlifting champion, explains that her general workout philosophy is to “maintain strength and muscle mass through the basics, like squats, deadlifts, pull-ups, and dips. And that includes you endurance athletes!”

The rest of the time? Get outside and enjoy the sports you love.

#7. Bring It Back to Life

In 2011, Patagonia launched its Worn Wear program, which allows customers to send in jackets and apparel to be mended. The company has since performed 170,000 repairs. Here’s a quick guide to fixing your own stuff—and taking better care of it in the first place.

Keep it clean: Before storing technical layers at the end of the season, launder them in cold water with a revitalizing cleaner like Nikwax Tech Wash and hang them to dry, says Lindsey Stone of Seattle’s Rainy Pass Repair, which fixes, updates, and renews all manner of outdoor fabrics. “Once something like Gore-Tex is dry to touch, treat it with a DWR spray to revive waterproofing,” she adds. “Then stick it in the dryer on low for 10 to 20 minutes.”

Avoid the common errors: “Wool is much more difficult to burn than synthetic fabrics, so consider a top layer of wool while you’re tending the campfire,” Stone says.

Upgrade your field kit: “Tenacious Tape is just as strong as duct tape, but it doesn’t leave a sticky residue,” Stone says, “so later you can properly fix a tear without a mess.”

Save your sole: Don’t toss out those worn-down hiking boots if the upper structure is still in good shape. Legendary boot wizard Dave Page in Seattle can resole just about anything. He has repaired a pair of 1960s boots six times. Their owner is now in his eighties.

#8. Go It Alone

"I always say, if I had to wait for a friend, I'd still be in my cubicle office. It's easier to travel alone and has become a lot more socially acceptable." —Matt Kepnes, author of the blog Nomadic Matt

#9. Just Say No

"Most people overestimate how efficient they are, so we say yes to everything that comes our way. The result is you end up feeling overwhelmed. Saying no makes space for the things that matter most to you. Saying no more often is actually more expansive." —Leo Babauta, author of The Power of Less

10. Buy Less, Live More

There’s a joke that we tell around the office: How can you spot an Outside editor at the trailhead? They’re the one removing tags from their stuff.

It hurts because it’s true. Some editors’ offices are so packed with gear that it’s tough to find a place to sit. I’m no exception. When I decided to take up mountain biking a couple of years ago, I bought two bikes: one hardtail and one full suspension, so I had the right ride for any situation. I currently own six fly rods—one for throwing dry flies on small streams, another for casting streamers on big rivers, yet another for windy days, and so on.

But when I read a recent story about Pata­gonia founder Yvon Chouinard that noted how most of his gear was made in the previous century, I began to question my excessive ways. I suffer that disease so common among middle-class Americans: overconsumption. And I’m not joking when I call it a disease. We’ve long known that buying things releases dopamine in the brain—a 2012 study in the Journal of Psychoactive Drugs suggested it’s even addictive. Partly to blame: the ease of the buy-now button.

It’s not just a biological pull, either. Magazines, catalogs, and websites—Outside’s included—assault your inbox, mailbox, and Facebook feed with new gear. I decided to fight back: for one month I would buy nothing but food. (OK, and beer.)

The first week, I felt like an alcoholic standing outside a liquor-store window. I had a strong urge to cheat, to buy something small like a book or a movie ticket. But midway through the month, the compulsive urge to consume relaxed. At home I realized that not only did I have a jacket that would get me through ski season, I actually had two, even if they didn’t breathe quite as well as I’d like. I began to look at things I previously considered at the end of their useful life—jeans with holes, a laptop that was a few years old—as perfectly functional.

I spent less time scrolling through gear blogs fantasizing about smartwatches or fishing reels, which meant that I had more time for things that really mattered: my wife, my friends, my colleagues—people, not things.

Late in the month, though, I caved. My wife and I recently bought a home, and we wanted to replace the old smoke detectors. “I’m not buying everything for the house this month,” my wife said, with a certain tone in her voice, suspecting that my pledge to swear off consumerism was a ploy to bankrupt her. I immediately went online and ordered two of them. Later that day I got her flowers, just to be safe.

The truth is, not buying stuff doesn’t feel as instantly good as hitting the buy-now button does, and I can’t say that I won’t purchase superfluous stuff in the future. But I realize that I don’t need it. In fact my life may be richer by not having as much of it. A few weeks after my experiment ended, I reached out to Trout Unlimited to see if it needed any packs or rods for its youth programs. I rounded up my extra winter hats, coats, and gloves to give to a local shelter. After years of being sick, I’m starting to feel better. —Jonah Ogles, articles editor

#11. Don’t Get All Epic

I’ve got a bit of Viking in me. Not the raiding and pillaging so much as the deep-seated urge to explore distant lands. For years my M.O. was: save up money, blow it on a far-flung adventure, return broke, repeat. It was fun, but I’ve since wised up. While I still try to pull off big trips whenever I can, I’ve learned that closer-to-home outings can be just as satisfying.

I grew up in southeast Wisconsin and couldn’t wait to set out for the mountains and rivers of the West, eventu­ally landing in New Mexico. But when I go back to Wisconsin now, I’m discovering everything I overlooked. ­Within 20 miles of my childhood home in Sheboygan, there are sand dunes to explore, waterways to paddle, waves to surf (seriously, Google it), and glacially carved trails to wander.

Having kids has helped shift my perspective, too. In Santa Fe, a lifetime of family microadventures can be had right out the back door. This past fall, we spent a weekend rafting a section of the Rio Grande near town. It might not have been heroic by Instagram standards, but there were rapids, rattlesnakes, hot springs, and pictographs. The kids didn’t have to miss any school, and I swear I felt my inner Viking stir. —Sam Moulton, content marketing director

#12. Use Paper

“I’ve tried all the organizational apps, but I much prefer putting pen to paper,” says legendary alpinist Conrad Anker, known among fellow climbers for both his skill and his preparation. “I like using Moleskine notebooks, the lined five-by-eight ones. Every night I use a nice fountain pen to jot down my to-do list for the following day. Then I prioritize it, rewrite it to reflect that ­order, and think about it. On Sunday I do the same routine, but for the whole week ahead.” ­

Anker says that bulletproof organizational skills may be in his blood. “My sister is a professional organizer, with clients, so we joke that creating structure and having discipline runs in our family. I find myself flipping back though my journals and rereading them. Research shows that writing things down helps you process and remember them better, and I agree. I’ve been doing this since 1998.”

Original Article