#there are a few pride events i went to this weekend actually

[sugdenlovesdingle]

I FINALLY DID IT!

I finished my pride fic! With an hour to go until the episode airs!

@flufftober 2023 Day 27: outdoor event

Austin Pride (AO3)

Owen and Gabriel go to pride with their sons

---

“Have you ever been to one of these? With TK?” Gabriel asked, tapping the ad in the paper open on Owen's kitchen table.

“Been to what? A camping supplies store?” Owen joked, turning the paper around to see what Gabriel meant. “Oh, that. Yeah, a few times. Back in New York. Never here though. I didn't actually know there was one.”

Gabriel nodded.

“Have the boys said anything... to you... about... going?”

“No, no I don't think so... although...” Owen trailed off, grabbing his phone and unlocking it and scrolling through his work calendar. “TK did schedule time off work that weekend. So my guess is that they're going.”

Gabriel nodded again.

“Are you... thinking of going too?” Owen asked. “Have you ever been?”

“No. When I was young... well... I don't think there was ever one where I grew up. And by the time I ended up in the big city... It's just never been on my radar.”

“Not even when Carlos or your girls were growing up?"

Gabriel snorted and took a swig of his drink. Andrea would have his head if she knew he was day drinking with Owen and not at his PT appointment.

“You know the mess we made of things with Carlos. So no, I've never been. Not with Carlos, not by myself.”

“But you're thinking of changing that?” Owen guessed.

“Well... it's definitely been on my mind more lately.” Gabriel admitted. “But I'm not sure it's my place.”

“Why not? Everyone is welcome at these things. That's kind of the whole point of them.” Owen chuckled. “The first time Gwyn and I went with TK was when he was 15 or 16. I don't know which one of us was more nervous.”

“What was it like?”

“Loud. Colourful. Lots of happy people. Everyone was in a party mood. We had fun. Even more so the second year when we actually marched. And a drag queen called me a DILF.”

“A what?” Gabriel asked, confused.

“DILF. It’s an acronym.”

“For…?”

“Dad I’d like to…” Owen raised an eyebrow and sipped his drink. “You know.”

“Dad I’d like to what?”

“You know… get freaky with...”

“What? Oh! I… should have known what that F stood for.”

Owen shrugged.

“I didn’t. I looked it up when I got home.” He laughed. “TK told me to never mention it out loud to anyone ever again.”

Gabriel nodded and tried to imagine having such memories with Carlos.

“But apart from that… what is it like? One of those parades.”

“Well in New York there were a lot of advocacy groups marching. And it was quite political. But there were also a lot of people marching because they just… wanted to. Celebrating who they are, who they love.” Owen said and laughed. “You should have seen TK’s face when this guy from a gay health clinic gave him free condoms and lube. And then turned to me and gave me some too because “sexual health is important no matter your age.” He said using air quotes. “TK was 17 I think. He refused to look at me the rest of the day. I slipped the condoms and lube in his backpack though when we got home. I didn’t know if he was actually having sex back then, but if he was, I wanted him to be safe you know.”

“Yeah…” Gabriel agreed and tried to remember if he’d ever talked to Carlos about sex, let alone gay sex, let alone safe gay sex. He knew Andrea had sat their girls down when they hit puberty, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember ever doing so with Carlos. “Would it be… weird… if I were to go to that parade?”

“As a spectator?”

“Maybe? Or participant.”

“I don’t see why it would be. We could go together!” Owen said, getting excited. “We could march with the boys! We could get matching shirts!”

“Oh… I uh I don’t know if Carlos would want me to. They’ve probably got plans with their friends.”

“We can all march together!” Owen pointed out. “Maybe that friend of Carlos’ I got talking to at the wedding will be there. What’s his name again… something with a J I think. He had some killer moves on the dancefloor.” He shook his head. “Anyway let me call the boys and then we can figure out our outfits.”

Before Gabriel had time to stop him or even make him take a breath and discuss things, Owen had pulled up TK’s contact and hit call.

“TK, what are you and Carlos doing the weekend of the 30th?” He said the second the call connected, not bothering with hello.

“The weekend of the - wait that's pride weekend. I scheduled the weekend off. It's already been approved. You're not making me change it now. We have plans.” TK replied, apparently not bothered by the lack of greeting.

“Yes, yes, I know. But what kind of plans? Are you marching in the parade?”

“I don't know... maybe. Why? Please tell me you're not planning on marching with the entire 126?”

“What? No.” Owen said immediately. “It's way too short notice." He paused to think. “But it's an excellent idea for next year. Remind me to talk to the AFD brass about it. We could build a float or use one of the ladder trucks! We could probably find some rainbow decorations or just buy some pride flags. Maybe we could get a local artist to design something for us! We could set up a competition! Maybe we could even get the winning design as a mural in the firehouse!"

Owen was getting more and more excited and started moving around the house to find a pen and paper to write his ideas down.

"Dad, dad, DAD!" TK all but yelled down the phone to get his attention. “Is that why you called? To talk about your ideas for an LGBT+ friendly firehouse?”

“No, you just gave me that idea.” he scribbled some key words down on an old receipt.

“So why did you call then? On my day off. That I'm spending with my husband who magically also has the day off. And we're enjoying that. Together. Alone.” TK said, emphasising the last two words.

Owen caught the implication but decided to ignore it.

“Oh yes, right. I wanted to know what your plans are for the pride weekend because we thought we might join you and march in the parade together.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Me and Gabriel. It'll be a multi-generational father and son thing. We were thinking of getting matching t-shirts printed. For all four of us.” Owen said, looking at Gabriel for confirmation.

“Wait, my father wants to go to pride?” Carlos asked and Owen briefly wondered if he'd been on speaker the whole time.

“Yes! It was his idea. He wants to share the experience with you. With both of you. And me I suppose. Even though I'm not gay. I mean... there was that one time in college...”

“Ok please stop talking.” TK said quickly. “I really don’t want to hear about your college hook ups.”

“It wasn’t a hook up!” Owen protested. “More like a… mutual understanding and appreciation.”

“Uhuh. Yeah, sure, Carlos and I have those all the time. This morning actually. He was very appreciative. And understanding. He’s also very good at following instructions. Very eager to please.”

“TK!” Owen heard Carlos say after some sputtering and coughing. He assumed TK had made him choke on his drink.

“What?” TK said innocently and Owen could practically hear the shit eating grin that was without a doubt on his face. “I was just saying we have a lot of these mutual appreciation moments. And how much I enjoy those.”

“Yeah, please don’t.”

“I can’t talk about how much I appreciate my husband now?” TK asked. “My big, strong, hot… so incredibly hot you wouldn’t believe…”

“TK…” Carlos warned but it came out more of a mix between a giggle and gasp.

“Guys, focus, please.” Owen interrupted them. “What colour are we thinking for the shirts? I was thinking pink, to fit the theme.”

“Wait what theme? When did we agree on a theme?” TK asked, distracted.

“The pride theme. Pink for pride.”

“Shouldn’t it be rainbow themed then?” Carlos asked, sounding somewhat more composed.

“I’m not sure I’d look good in rainbow colours.” Owen mused. “Yellow isn’t really my colour. It washes me out.”

“Dad, just wear whatever you normally wear.” TK said, sounding like he’d resigned himself to the fact he wasn’t getting out of going along with his dad’s idea. “We don’t need a theme. Carlos and I have our outfits planned out already.”

“No we don’t.” Carlos protested. “I told you, I’m not wearing that in public.”

TK sighed.

“We’re still discussing our outfits.” He corrected himself. “So just wear whatever. Nobody is going to pay attention to what you’re wearing… unless you’re in drag or wearing ass-less chaps.” He paused. “Please don’t wear those.” 

“I don’t think the cowboy look is really for me.” Owen mused. “But I do still have my motorcycle outfit…”

“If you wear that I’m not walking anywhere near you. And that’s a promise.” TK swore and Owen laughed.

“I guess my outfit is still a work in progress too. Gabriel and I will brainstorm and we’ll let you know what’s what.”

“Sure. But no leather and if anyone calls you daddy, I’m out of there.” TK warned him before ending the call.

Owen laughed and sat back down at the table with Gabriel.

“See? I told you the boys would be on board. Now, what do you think. Pink or rainbow?”

The next few weeks consisted of Owen forwarding every outfit idea he had to Gabriel as well as their sons in their family group chat.

TK shot almost everything down right away, while Gabriel was unsure and let Owen decide for them both.

“Ok, the boys said they’d meet us at the starting point of the parade. It’s not that far but we should get going soon if we want to get a good spot. You want to get behind the advocacy groups but still near enough to the front that people still pay attention.” Owen said as he let Gabriel into his house a few weeks later. “I have our shirts and signs right here.”

“Signs? What signs?”

“The signs we agreed on…” Owen said slowly as if he was talking to a child.

“I don’t remember agreeing to signs. What do we need signs for when we have the shirts?”

“We agreed it would be nice. I had them made especially. They’re laminated.” Owen held up one of the signs. “I know a guy who makes those yard signs for politicians, he made these for me.”

“Right. Well… I think… I’ll just stick to the shirt for now.” Gabriel said, warily eyeing the sign Owen was holding.

“Alright. Well… I’ll just… take both of them then. Maybe I can convince Judd to march with us too. He’s a father too and I think he and Grace mentioned taking Charlie to watch the parade because she likes colours.” Owen rambled while Gabriel looked at the two matching t-shirts laid out on the kitchen table.

“If you’re not sure, we can just go and watch. The boys won’t mind.” Owen suggested, picking up on Gabriel’s unease.

“No, I promised Carlos I’d march with him, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Gabriel said resolutely. “Andrea and the girls said they’d come watch too and I don’t want to let them all down.” He picked up one of the shirts. “Where can I change?”

When they arrived at the parade starting point, Owen seemed to feel right at home and within five minutes he’d become best friends with a few of the drag queens also getting ready to march.

“I’m here with my friend.” He gestured to Gabriel. “We’re consuegros actually. Our sons are married and we’re marching with them… but I don’t think they’re here yet.” He looked around. “We got matching t-shirts and we’re marching as a family.”

“That’s nice darling but you have to look the part if you’re going to march. That t-shirt just won’t do. Let us give you a make over.” She looked back and forth between Owen and Gabriel. “Both of you.”

Fifteen minutes later Owen had a rainbow flag painted on his cheek and both of them wore rainbow sashes, though Gabriel had convinced their style team to tie it around the rim of his hat instead of wearing it the way it was meant to.

One of the queens had called it Texas-chic and he liked the sound of that.

“Carlos! TK! Over here!” Owen yelled and waved when he spotted their sons in the crowd.

TK waved back and dragged Carlos with him over to their fathers. Owen did his best to hide his disappointment when he saw neither of them were wearing the t-shirts he’d made for them.

“Why aren’t you wearing the shirts we agreed on?”

“It’s too hot for those.”

“We’re wearing them.”

“That’s your choice.” TK said with a shrug. “And besides, I’m here with my husband, I’m wearing the ring he put on my finger, and his last name. I think people are going to get the message that I think being gay is ok.”

“I have the shirts in my backpack.” Carlos told them and shrugged at the raised eyebrow from his husband. “Your dad put a lot of time and effort into them, TK. The least we could do is wear them for half an hour.”

TK lovingly rolled his eyes at him.

“You’re such a boy scout.” He said and kissed Carlos’ cheek. “But I’m fine wearing what I’m currently wearing.”

Owen decided to drop it and just stood back and let the chaos unfold as his and Gabriel’s style team set their sights on TK and Carlos.

Before long they’d painted rainbow flags on their cheeks, put temporary tattoos on their arms, and managed to talk Carlos into taking off the tank top he was wearing underneath a mesh shirt, much to TK’s delight.

By the time the parade started moving, someone had given all four of them little rainbow flags to wave, and Owen was trying to find a way to both wave his flag and carry two signs.

The four of them started walking with the rest of the crowd, waving their flags and waving to the people watching from the sides.

There was a DJ on the back of a pickup truck playing party music, and TK convinced Carlos to dance with him when the parade had stopped for a moment.

Someone shouted at him to put a ring on it when they saw Carlos’ moves, and he just laughed, held up his hand to show off his wedding ring, and yelled back he’d already done that.

The song ended and the two of them walked back to where Owen and Gabriel were standing and watching them.

A few people had noticed the “Free dad hugs” signs they were holding and came to ask for a hug. Owen happily obliged but Gabriel seemed a little awkward and unsure what to do.

“Are you ok dad?” Carlos asked him and Gabriel nodded.

“I’m fine. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Carlos looked around.

“Yeah… I was kind of overwhelmed the first time I went. The first time TK dragged me along.” He smiled to himself .“We’d only been together a couple of months by then. It was a lot but it was a great experience.”  

Gabriel smiled.

“I'm proud of you.” He told Carlos and squeezed his shoulder. “I know I haven't always been the best dad to you but I'm so proud of the man you are. I'm so proud to call you my son.”

Carlos swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Thanks dad. That... means a lot.”

“I should have said it sooner.” Gabriel shook his head. “Before I got this shirt made. Before I let Owen convince me all this was a good idea.” He said and laughed, gesturing at himself in his brightly coloured I love my gay son shirt and the rainbow sash around the rim of his hat.

“I don't know, I think it suits you. You blend right in.” TK said, trying to relieve the tension somewhat. “You're one of us now.”

Gabriel laughed and in a rare public display of affection pulled both him and Carlos into a hug.

“That puts me in great company.”

“I agree.” Owen said, joining their group hug. “You boys are the best thing to happen to us.”

The parade started moving again but as they marched, more people started to approach both Owen and Gabriel for dad hugs.

Owen thrived in the attention and somehow managed to bring out a whole new version of Gabriel, who seemed to enjoy being able to make people happy with a small gesture.

“Are you seeing this?” Carlos asked TK. They were walking a few steps behind their dads, watching it all unfold.

“Yeah. Looks like my dad finally had a good influence on someone.”

[ireallyamabear]

i’ve been feeling very doom and gloom lately about the state of the world and our place in it as queer people and part of why was probably bc i haven’t spend a lot of time in queer spaces in the last few month; so i made it a point to go to the big Berlin CSD parade this afternoon and just stand and watch all the floats and people go by, and there were so many and they kept coming and coming by for hours and i’m feeling a way about it; the girls, the boys, gays, dykes, faggots, fairies, butches, femmes, men, women, the enbies, so many trans people; first timers, old timers, daddies, leather daddies, rainbow families, kids; puppies, people walking their puppies on a leash, the kinsters; the queens, the drag queens, the drag kings; the undecided; the transsexuals and agender people, the queers; babies, elders; aces, lesbians, the bisexuals, the pansexuals, the free hugs people; the asses, dicks, tits, the tattoos, the wigs, all the glitter; the freaks; the most normal people you will ever meet; the bears, the furries, the smooth shaved, twinks and twunks and whoever; the couples, throuples and more, the friend groups, the people walking alone; the friends and family they were all there and we missed you

[mountsmase]

I’m Yours

a/n : hi!! I can’t believe I’m finally posting this fic! I’ve had this concept sat in my drafts since March and I went through a bit of a hard time with writing but I’ve now turned this idea into something that I’m really proud of 🥹 this is the first time I’ve attempted to write something where the reader and Mase aren’t already in an established relationship, so I really hope that I did it justice and that you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!! These two are my babies 🥺 I really hope you enjoy ❤️ feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻 (also it’s my first time trying an actual header so please let me know what you think)

word count: 14k +

genre: fluff and smut

“There you are”

The deep rumble of your best friends voice startles you, his suit clad body brushing against the bare skin of your arm as he appears next to you.

Mason pulls out the chair beside your own, sitting down with you in the secluded corner of the crowded room.

The Together for Short Lives gala is well and truly underway, the large ballroom decorated in elegant black and gold furnishings as people talk amongst themselves around the room. It’s packed, an amazing turn out for such a meaningful event.

The evening so far has been nothing short of special, with a dinner followed by an auction, all of the money going to an amazing cause. Your heart filled with pride watching Mason up on the stage and you’re so grateful that he chose to share this night with you.

“You disappeared on me” Mason pouts, glancing down at the cocktail you’re holding in your hands before taking it from you and lifting it to his lips.

He takes a sip and you giggle at the face he pulls as he clearly didn’t enjoying the sweet tasting drink as much as he thought he would.

“Sorry, I just went to get another drink and then I couldn’t find you” You tell him, taking your glass back when he offers it to you.

“You should’ve called me, I’d of come to find you” He replies, and you try to ignore the way your tummy flutters at his words.

“I know you would’ve, but I can handle being alone for a bit, I’m a big girl”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes when you look up at him.

“But what if I wanted to come and find you?”

“Well you’re here now, so it couldn’t of been that difficult” You grin, watching as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and you’re briefly distracted when he reaches up to adjust his tie.

You and Mason have been friends for as long as you can remember.

Your dads used to work together when they were younger and they always had a close relationship both in and out of work, which led to your families becoming close as well. Your mums became inseparable when they were introduced, and a few years later, when you and Mason were born only a few months apart, you naturally became inseparable too.

You grew up together, your parents keeping you close despite the fact that you attended two different schools, and as you got older, your bond only grew stronger.

Some of your best memories are with Mason, you’d stay the weekend at each others houses, spend long afternoons doing homework together before playing in the garden, and there were even a few summers where your families had joint holidays.

It was the two of you against the world, and it had always been that way.

That is until his football career started to take off. You were so proud of him. Your friend was playing for one of the best clubs in the England and you were over the moon to see him doing so well.

But, it unfortunately meant that he became busier and was spending more and more time in London and away from Portsmouth. You tried your best to stay in touch, messaging all the time and video calling when you eventually got phones, but you can’t deny that it was hard not having him around anymore.

Things only started to get difficult when he went on loan to Vitesse when you were 18. It was harder to keep contact with him being away and being so focussed on football, but you’d never blame him for the fact you drifted apart.

You were in college at the time, spending any available minuet that you had on your classes, making sure you could pass your exams and get into the uni you’d always dreamed of attending.

It was difficult, you couldn’t be there for each other as much as you’d of liked to be, and as much as you’d both tried your hardest to stop it, it started becoming harder and harder as time went on.

You’d only see each other at family events like birthdays and weddings and it got to the point where you’d only talk once every few months or so. Even when he came back to the UK and was living in Cobham, you’d video call to catch up and then not speak to each other again for weeks unless you had something specific to talk about.

It was all part of growing up though. He was still one of your best friends, someone you knew you could trust and could call if you ever needed anything, and you were the same to him.

You both became increasingly busy, especially when he began playing for the first team and you were going through university, so it made sense that it became harder to make time for each other.

But, last year, it all changed.

After graduating from university and receiving your degree three years ago, you were presented with an amazing job opportunity in Manchester, which you just couldn’t say no to. It was a big change for you, moving somewhere so far away from home and having to start a new life in a new city, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You’re doing amazing at work, having received a promotion not even two years after joining your company, and you’ve got a cute little apartment that you’ve well and truly made your own.

You really didn’t think it could get much better, but you were proved wrong when Mason transferred to Man United last summer.

After a lot of uncertainty surrounding his career, Mason was relived to finally know who he would be playing for next season and was excited to start his new life up in Manchester.

You were one of the only people he knew in the city, and when he reached out, you offered for him to stay in your spare bedroom whilst he settled in and found a place to call his own.

He obviously took you up on your offer, loving the extra time he got to spend with you and the familiarity that came with being in your presence.

You had the best month living together. It was like you’d never been apart, all of those years of having distance between you forgotten. You’d cook dinner together, have movie nights, talk to each other after you’d had a bad day at training or work and even after he moved out and into his new home, you still spent as much time together as possible.

You had your best friend back, and you had truly never felt happier.

Now, fast forward 8 months, and you’re questioning if that’s really all you are anymore.

You’ve always known that Mason is an attractive guy. I mean, how could you not? He’s gorgeous.

But recently that attraction has grown deeper. And not only in a physical way.

The last couple of months have been filled with lingering touches and longing gazes, the line between friendship and something more slowly becoming blurred.

He’s no longer just Mason, your best friend, but he’s Mason, the guy you think, sorry, know that you’re in love with.

Mason is one of the few people who treats you like you’re somebody. He makes you feel like the most special girl in the world without even trying and you’ve had to remind yourself one too many times recently that there’s nothing more going on between you.

You haven’t mentioned your feelings to him because you’re scared. Scared of loosing him and ruining what is such an important friendship to you. Scared that you aren’t enough for him.

You didn’t have the best experience in your last relationship, and you know deep down that Mason would never treat you the way he did and that there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re a pretty girl who has good morals and a good head on your shoulders.

But, the fear that you’re not good enough - that you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wants and needs - still clouds your mind, and it’s one of the reasons why you won’t admit anything to him.

And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? After the last couple of months you know deep down that he could, but the last thing you want is to throw away your friendship over it.

You just can’t ignore the growing tension between the two of you.

But…neither can he.

Mason has felt for a long time that there’s no one else for him but you, and his feelings for you just grew stronger after moving to Manchester.

You took him in and made him feel at home in a city where mostly everything was new to him, supported him through a tough transition period, and after moving out of your spare bedroom he found himself craving your company more than anyone else’s.

You feel like home to him.

Tough day at training? He wants to see you. He saw something funny on TikTok? It’s you he wants to send it to you. He burnt his toast that morning? He wants to tell you. You’re at the forefront of his mind all the time.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever set his eyes on, both inside and out. You’ve got a heart of gold and he would do anything in his power to protect you from the harsh reality’s of the world. You’re the most important person to him, he just wants to make you happy and see you smiling all the time.

This tension that’s been building between you recently has been killing him, and as much as he worries that you won’t feel the same way, he doesn’t think he can hold in his feelings much longer.

There’s been too many moments where he’s had to stop himself from leaning in and claiming your lips with his own, and it’s been becoming harder and harder to restrain himself.

Especially tonight.

He’d invited you to join him and Lewis as a plus one to the black tie gala, wanting to experience the evening with you and share something that’s always been so special to him.

When you stepped out of the lift earlier in the evening, his heart soared at the sight of you in your floor length gown. You left him speechless, and he’s not been able to take his eyes off of you ever since.

The black material hugs your body in all of the right places, perfectly contrasting against your tanned skin. You’ve matched it with a pair of strappy heals and silver jewellery, going for a simple yet elegant look.

There’s a slit down the left side, starting at your upper thigh, and the sight of your leg poking out from underneath the satin fabric has Mason’s mind wandering to places that he knows it shouldn’t.

You look absolutely stunning, and he’s been struggling to hold himself back all evening.

He’s found his attention drifting to you through out the night, more often than not becoming distracted from whatever conversation he’s having to admire you, and he’d quickly become captivated by your presence.

Sitting next to you now is no different, he can’t help but let his eyes drift down your body and your cheeks heat when you notice his wandering gaze.

There’s a look of longing in his eyes, one you’ve become familiar with, but until tonight you’ve always thought that you’ve been imagining it.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Mase”

The sound of your soft voice has his attention snapping away from your body, and your heart skips a beat when his warm brown eyes find yours.

His cheeks flush from being caught, but his confidence doesn’t falter.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do if I don’t?” He whispers, loud enough for only you to hear and the teasing smirk that finds his lips has your heart racing in your chest.

You’re overcome by a wave of shyness, any response that you may have had dying in your throat as he shuffles closer to you, his knee nudging into yours under the table.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but the urge to touch you suddenly becomes too much to ignore. He finds himself reaching out, his warm palm landing against your exposed thigh as his other arm snakes behind you, resting against the back of your chair. Your skin burns under his touch, breath hitching in your throat when his thumb rubs in tender circles over the inside of your thigh.

Mason has always been a touchy person, you’ve seen and experienced it over your years of friendship, but there’s something about the way he’s touching you now that has your head spinning.

His hand ventures a little higher and you fumble to open your purse, pulling out your lipgloss and phone in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you’ve avoided his question when you open the camera app, using it as a makeshift mirror to reapply the gloss.

He watches as you swipe the applicator over your pink, plump lips, the action captivating him and it takes all of his self restraint to not lean in and kiss you right there and then.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Bambi”

You pop the lid back onto the tube and place it back into your purse - your distraction techniques having been unsuccessful - and look up and into his eyes.

The whispered compliment has butterflies erupting in your tummy, your lips tugging up into a smile upon hearing the nickname he’s always used for you.

It started when you were 10, you always loved the movie and had invited him over to watch it with you after school one day. About half way through you stood up to go and find more popcorn but being your clumsy self you’d ended up tripping over your own feet.

Mase took the opportunity to compare your clumsiness to that of the deer, and at first he used the nickname as a joke, but then it stuck, and now, even in your twenties he still liked to use it. And you love to hear it.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Masey” you tell him, letting your gaze drop briefly and you take allow yourself a moment to admire him.

Mason is handsome even on his worst days - you’re convinced that he could wear the ugliest outfit ever and somehow still pull it off - but there something about the way he looks tonight that has you breathless.

The suit he’s wearing is simple - perfect for a black tie event. A white shirt with a black jacket and trousers, a matching tie and some dress shoes to complete the look. The chest strap that he wore earlier in the evening has been abandoned, the jacket now undone allowing for more of a relaxed look as the evening goes on.

His hair is freshly trimmed, styled into a short quiff and his facial hair is neat, more of a long stubble than a full beard. The lighting in the room is dim, but you can still make out all of his features, the freckles that are dotted over his cheeks, his long lashes and the dimple that appears whenever he smiles. He’s utterly breathtaking.

“Remind me to thank whoever tailored this suit for you” You smile, gaze locking onto his again as you reach up, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his jacket.

“You like it?”

“I love it, you look so handsome” you let your hands drop back into your lap and he misses your touch immediately.

“Yeah?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you nod gently.

You feel his arm move from behind you as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before brushing down your jaw and you become hyper-aware of how close you are when you feel his breath fanning over your cheek.

It feels as though the air around you has suddenly shifted, his gaze swimming with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The intense eye contact becomes too much for you, your eyes momentarily dropping to his chest but he brings them back to his with a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so that you have no choice but to look at him.

His gaze drops to your lips, once, twice, and a third time, until the desire to feel them against his own becomes too overwhelming. He’s leaning in before he has a chance to stop himself, the lack of hesitation in your eyes only urging him on until someone clears their throat behind you.

“Hey guys” Lewis’ voice snaps you and Mason back to reality, the room around you coming back into focus.

His presence causes Mason to jump away from you, an unwelcome chill touching your skin where his hand no longer rests against your thigh. He groans in annoyance and turns towards his brother.

You release the breath you never realised you were holding, clearing your throat and fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress as Mason looks up at Lewis expectantly.

If he saw anything, he doesn’t let it show.

“Sorry Mase, there’s a few people asking for you”

Mason nods politely, standing up before turning to hold a hand out for you.

“You coming?” He asks, acting as though nothing happened - that he hasn’t just nearly kissed you.

It takes you a few more seconds to regain your composure, blinking up at him a few times before eventually nodding and taking his outstretched hand.

He helps you up, waiting until Lewis has turned away to lift your joint hands to his lips. He places a quick kiss to your knuckles, sending you a soft smile before letting them drop between you again and he doesn’t let go as you follow him through the crowd, fingers still intertwined as Lewis introduces you to an older man who you recognise as one of the event organisers.

You try your best to focus on the conversations that are happening in front of you. You really do.

But it’s hard to concentrate with Mason’s fingers still tangled with yours and the thought of what could’ve happened had Lewis not interrupted you a few moments ago.

That’s the second time you’ve almost kissed him. The first being a few weeks ago when he’d invited you and a few of your other friends over for a games night.

You’d gotten to Mason’s a little earlier than everyone else, wanting to spend a bit of extra time with him before the others arrived and you were in the kitchen, helping him find some snacks and drinks when your favourite song had come on shuffle through the speakers.

One thing led to another and you were dancing around the kitchen, singing your little heart out as Mason stood back and watched you, giggling at your terrible dance moves.

As the song went on you got a little more into it, accidentally crashing into him after tripping over your own feet and he’d reached out to steady you, the two of you laughing together as you found your footing and rested against his chest.

Your laughter had slowly died down, the air around you thickening as you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. The warm look in his eyes could only be described as endearment and what happened next was a bit of blur.

He was leaning in when the door bell went off, the others arriving at the worst time and ruining the moment without even realising.

You’ve thought about it every day since, wondering what could’ve been, and now here you are weeks later, still asking yourself the same questions.

You’re brought back to the present moment when Mason squeezes your hand, dragging your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you.

“You okay?” He mumbles close to your ear, hand letting go of yours to instead wrap around your waist and you melt into his warmth as he tugs you closer.

You nod, sending him a smile that says you’re cool, calm and collected, but it’s as much of a facade as it can be when inside you’re feeling the complete opposite.

“How about one more drink and then we head back to the hotel?” Mason suggests a few hours later, glancing down to his watch and noticing that it’s nearing 11pm.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go and talk to a few more people and then I’ll come and find you guys” Lewis tells you before heading to the other side of the room and you follow Mason over to the bar.

“Water?” Mason asks, voice low as you approach counter.

He knows you’re not the biggest drinker, only ever choosing to have one or two drinks when you go out, and you’ve already had a cocktail and a glass of wine with your dinner.

“Please” You smile, glancing over to him as he orders and pays for your drinks.

“Sorry mate, any chance we can grab a straw please?” Mason asks the bar tender when he places your water down in front of you, and you feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture. You’ve always preferred drinking with straws, some people may think it’s weird, but to Mason it’s just one of the many things he loves about you.

You thank him as he slides the glass towards you, watching as he takes the paper wrapped straw from the bartender with a cheeky grin. He tears off the end of the wrapper, bringing the exposed end of the straw to his lips and you could predict what he was about to do from a mile off, but it still makes you jump when he blows on the straw, sending the paper flying and he laughs as it hits your cheek before landing on the counter next to you.

“Mason” You groan playfully, shaking your head at his childish behaviour. Still, you can’t help but laugh with him, and his heart soars at the sound.

It’s not long later that you’re leaving the venue after finishing your drinks and saying your goodbyes, stepping out into the chilly evening air as Lewis steps aside to call a taxi.

“Did you have a good night?” Mason asks, coming to stand beside you.

A gust of wind ruffles his hair, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead and you have to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away for him.

“Yeah I did, thank you for inviting me, it was special” you smile up at him, rubbing your palms against your bare arms in an attempt to keep warm when the wind picks up. The temperature has dropped significantly since earlier in the evening, and you’re now regretting your choice to not bring a second layer with you.

Mason doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket when he notices you shivering, slipping it over your shoulders before you can protest. You snuggle into it’s warmth, breathing in the scent of his cologne that still lingers on the fabric.

“Better?” He murmurs, making sure its wrapped around you enough before draping an arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you” You nod, melting into his side when he gently tugs you towards him.

The wait for the taxi isn’t too long, and you stay snuggled up to Mason’s side as he chats away to Lewis about your plans for getting back to Manchester tomorrow. You don’t pay any attention to their conversation though, too busy focussing on his little touches to listen to what they’re saying.

He holds you close, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your shoulder through the material of his jacket. You’re resting against his chest, and it rumbles underneath your cheek whenever he speaks, his soft voice soothing you.

You could stay wrapped up in him forever, but your bubble is popped when the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of you.

Lewis takes the front seat, letting you and Mason sit in the back together and you slide in when he holds the door open for you. He climbs in behind you, pouting as you settle into the far seat rather than the one next to his.

It’s only a short drive back to the hotel, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at Mason every now and then, unable to take your eyes away from him as the street lights shine through the windows, casting a golden glow over his features.

He turns his head suddenly, feeling the heat of your gaze, but you're quick to look away, cheeks blazing when you realise he’s caught you staring.

You start fiddling with your rings, one of the telltale signs that you’re nervous, but a warm hand intertwines with yours, stopping your fidgeting. Mason is already looking at you when you glance up at him, and your heart soars at the gentle look in his eyes. There’s a certain warmth behind them that tells you everything is okay, and you settle back into the seat, sliding your fingers between his and not letting go for the rest of the journey.

Mason is the first out of the car when you pull up in front of your hotel, quickly making his way around to your door before opening it for you and you accept the hand he holds out, letting him help you climb out. He quickly tips and thanks the driver before leading you into the hotel, through the lobby and towards the lifts.

You bid your good nights to Lewis when he steps out on his level, leaving you and Mason alone as the doors close behind him. You settle into another comfortable silence as you continue up to your floor.

The doors slide open and Mason moves aside, letting you step out in front of him before following you down the hall towards your room, wanting to make sure you get back safely.

You stop in front of your door, reaching into your purse to retrieve your room key before turning to thank him for walking you back, but the words get stuck on your tongue, not quite feeling ready to say goodnight to him yet.

“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that has somehow been set in the hallway, “we can order room service and watch something, just like we do at home”

He doesn’t respond straight away, and for a very brief moment you worry that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but you watch as his gaze softens, and he keeps his voice low as he says “Let me just go and grab a few things from my room and then I’ll be back, yeah?”

“Okay” you nod, watching as he heads back down the hallway before letting yourself into your room.

You feel giddy, buzzing with nervous excitement as you slip Mason’s jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair before busying yourself with tidying a few things away, making the room look a bit more presentable as you’d left it a mess in your rush to leave earlier.

You’re not sure where the sudden jitters have come from, it’s Mason. You’ve always spent nights at each others houses, snuggled on the sofa, talking until late before falling asleep in each others company. But something about tonight feels different.

You don’t have long to dwell on it though, hearing two taps on the door as you put the last few bits back into your suitcase.

His smile is bright as you swing the door open, stepping aside for him to come in and your eyes drop to his chest as he brushes past you. He didn’t bother changing, but his tie is nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt now undone and his silver chain - the one that you brought him for his birthday last year - peaks out from underneath the fabric.

You click the door closed behind him, following him into the room and watching as he puts a few things down on the table beside the bed - his charger and what you think is his toothbrush, along with his wallet and a spare change of clothes for the morning.

“So, room service?” He asks, flopping down onto the bed and settling against the headboard.

He makes himself comfortable, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows as you grab the food menu from the desk in front of the TV. Your breath catches in your throat when you turn to face him, your mouth going dry as the dark ink on his forearm steals your attention.

A smirk ghosts his lips upon noticing your brief loss of composure, but he chooses not to bring it up, instead patting the spot next him.

You slip off your heels, putting them to the side before climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. “How about pizza? I’m not too hungry so maybe we could share?”

“Sounds good, chips as well?” He suggests and you agree, trying to pass him the menu but he doesn’t take it from you, “You choose, I’m not fussed”

You decide on a classic margherita, letting Mason call downstairs to place the order whilst you reach over him and grab the remote from the table next to his side of the bed. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand falls on his upper thigh, not so innocently steadying yourself as you lean over him. You can’t say that you’d meant to touch him like that, but you won’t pretend that you didn’t love his reaction.

“Sorry” you mumble, cheeks flaming as you sit back and busy yourself with turning on the TV, logging into your Netflix account whilst he takes a deep breath next to you and finishes ordering the food.

You put on an episode of a series that you’ve been watching together, catching each other up on some plans that you have for the next couple of weeks whilst you wait for your food to arrive and you eat in a comfortable silence when it does, Mason letting you have the last slice of pizza like always.

After clearing away the tray and placing it in the hallway, you lock the door behind you and settle back onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side when he lifts his arm for you.

“Thank you for coming with us tonight. I know it’s a long way from home but it means a lot to have you at these things with me” He tells you, a warm feeling spreading through you as he pulls you closer and rests his cheek against the top of your head.

His arm settles around you, holding you at the waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You sling your arm over his torso, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his free hand comes to rest on your forearm, fingertips tracing over your skin.

“Thank you again for inviting me, and you know I don’t mind” You tell him, tightening your arms around him slightly, “I’d fly to the other side of the world with you if you asked me to”

He chuckles into your hair, his smile widening. “Yeah? Looks like I should ask them to have the next gala in Australia then”

“Yes! You know I’ve always wanted to go and meet Kangaroos”

“It’s a long flight though, you’d have to let me sleep on your shoulder the whole way there”

“Oh,” you pout at him jokingly, “you wouldn’t buy me a business class ticket?”

His fingertips creep up your waist and you giggle, thrashing against him when they tickle over your skin through the material of your dress.

“I’ll take that as a no then” You sigh dramatically, slumping back into his arms when his fingers relent.

“I’d buy you as many business class tickets as you want, Bambi”

Here we go again with the butterflies.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, Mason keeping his arms locked around you as he tries to switch his focus back to the TV, but it’s impossible when you’re cuddled up to him so closely.

There’s something about being in your presence that makes him feel so calm. There’s no need for him to fake anything, no need for him to worry. He can just be ‘Mase’ without any added expectations or anyone analysing his every move. You accept him for him, and he thanks his lucky stars everyday that your parents met all of those years ago because he’s really not sure what he’d do without you.

But tonight he’s nervous. He’s not sure what it is because these feelings for you are by no means new, but after he nearly slipped up and kissed you once earlier, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if it happens again.

He wants you. Physically, emotionally, whatever you’re willing to give him, he’d take it, and tonight might just be the night that he does.

He doesn’t realise that he’s been staring at you until you tilt your head to look up at him, having felt the heat of his gaze.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispers, a soft smile sitting on his lips.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as they drop down to your lips, only for a millisecond before returning to your own and your heart rate quickens, a giddy feeling spreading through you.

“Maybe a few times” you tease, lips curling into a smile, “but you can tell me again”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “You look gorgeous, always the prettiest girl in the room” He tells you, heart thudding in his chest as a shaky hand comes up to cup your jaw.

His nose bumps against yours as he leans closer. His lips are mere inches away, your heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure he can probably hear it.

When you show no signs of hesitation he closes the distance, touching his lips to yours in a tender kiss that you feel all the way from your head down to the tips of your toes.

You feel yourself melting into him as he works his lips over yours with ease, one of his hands cupping your cheek as the other gently pushes against your hip, encouraging you to roll onto your back and your arms wind around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours after what feels like an eternity of waiting for this exact moment, your hand weaving into the short strands of hair on the back of his head to hold him to you.

He keeps it soft, your whole body tingling from how gentle he’s being with you as his lips move over yours with a certain tenderness that has you craving more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that” He breathes, forehead resting against yours when you separate to catch your breaths.

His heart flip-flops in his chest at the smile that paints your lips, unable to prevent his own as you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes.

“Then who am I to stop you from doing it again?”

You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to close the distance again, but when he leans forward he brushes a kiss over your cheek instead, a whine leaving you as you try and chase his lips but he only pulls back further.

“I need to know that you definitely want this Y/N” he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you, “I know I do, but I’ll never forgive myself if later on you realise that you don’t”

His voice sounds small, the confidence that he exuded earlier slowly fading away, and your heart aches as rest your head back into the pillows to look at him properly.

You slide your hand up from his shoulder, cradling his face in your palm and your heart soars when he leans into your touch.

“Mason, my whole life I’ve known it’s been you” You tell him, gently brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek and a soft smile finds his lips at your words. “I want this, I want you”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything” You whisper, watching as his features relax.

“I might have to change my mind if you don’t kiss me again though”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, not waiting another second before leaning back in.

It’s like someone has flipped a switch, all form of restraint gone as he claims your lips with a searing kiss that has your spine tingling. He coaxes your lips apart, easily slipping his tongue between them and he takes his time to explore your mouth, brushing his tongue over yours with slow, deliberate strokes.

His hand roams down your dress clad body, kneading into your skin through the satin like fabric and you arch your back into his touch, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to feel him closer. His warm palm slides over your hip, finding the bare skin of your thigh, exposed through the slit of your dress, and he hooks your leg over his waist.

You moan into his mouth as he presses his hips into yours, the sound going straight to his centre and his length twitches in the confines of his boxers.

“You definitely want to do this?” He asks between kisses, his lips leaving yours to move over your cheek and down to your jaw.

You nod, tilting your head back to allow him better access as he trails his kisses down your throat.

“I need your words, Y/N” he urges, pulling back to look at you.

“Yes Mason, please” You plead, just wanting to feel his lips on your skin again.

He doesn’t waste anymore time, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck and you shiver when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, his lips peppering kisses wherever he can reach and you whimper when finds your sweet spot, your sounds only encouraging him.

He sucks on the sensitive spot below your ear, teeth grazing over your skin before soothing the sting with his tongue and then he’s continuing his kisses down your body.

“As much as I love this dress on, I’d much rather it be off right now” he speaks when his kisses meet the neckline of your dress, the material obstructing his path and stopping him from going any further.

You attempt to reach behind you to undo the buttons that hold it together, but you can’t quite reach them, your position on the bed just leading to an awkward tangle of limbs. You huff out a breath, slumping back into the duvet as he watches you, clearly trying to hold himself back from laughing.

You send him an unimpressed glare, trying once more to reach behind but you only end up finding yourself in the same predicament as before.

“Help me” you pout, and he leans down to kiss it away, loosening his hold on your waist before getting off the bed.

“C’mon, jump up” He holds his hands out for you and you take them, letting him pull you up until you’re standing in front of him.

He moves you so that you’re stood with your back to his chest, his hands lightly brushing down your arms and you shiver under his touch, instinctively leaning back into his warmth.

“May I?” He asks softly, his breath tickling over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Y-yeah” you stutter, trying to steady your beating heart as he brushes your hair to one side.

He must notice the way you tense up as he reaches for the buttons, his lips pressing to your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.

“Relax sweetheart, it’s just me” he whispers, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

But what if that’s the issue? It’s just him, just Mason. The man you’ve loved for years. You’re comfortable in your body, but what if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if -

Your thoughts are cut off when he gently takes a hold of your waist, turning you around to face him and you’re met with his soft expression, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He whispers, trying to meet your gaze but you look down, eyes focussing on his chest as a wave of shyness washes over you.

“Hey, look at me” He says, keeping his voice gentle as he brings two fingers to lightly nudge your chin so that you look at him again.

“Sorry, I just…” you begin, and he’s patient with you when you stop to take a few deep breaths, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it’s just- the last guy I was with like this wasn’t the nicest and he had a fair amount of things to say about my body and - god I’m so sorry” You quickly cut yourself off when you notice you’re rambling, cheeks flaming when you release what you’ve just admitted to him.

Mason feels his heart breaking more and more with every word that leaves your lips. He could never understand how anybody could be so cruel. He feels himself growing angry at the thought of anyone treating you that way and frustrated with himself for not being able to protect you from someone like that.

He knows deep down that there’s nothing he could’ve done to stop it, but you should’ve never had to go through that, and it pains him to know that someone hurt you so deeply.

He doesn’t let his feelings show though, instead making a promise to himself to never, ever, make you feel anything less than beautiful. You deserve so much more and he’s ready to show you just how perfect you are and treat you the way you deserve.

“Listen to me angel, you have nothing to apologise for okay?” his voice is firm, making sure you’re looking right at him before continuing.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. No one should’ve treated you that way. You deserve so much more baby. You are the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on Y/N, and I need you to know that I’d never treat you like that.” He tells you, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he rests his forehead against yours.

You nod as best as you can, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your smile as his words sink in.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight Y/N, if you don’t want to we can just watch another movie or something, I won’t be upset. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.”

Your nodding quickly turns into you shaking your head instead.

“No Mase, I want to do this. I want you.” You reassure him and he leans back slightly, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering his hands to your waist again.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course” you tell him, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and willing your heart rate to slow down.

“Okay, you still want me to take this off?”

His fingers fiddle with the thin straps of your dress as you nod, trying not to seem to eager. “Please”

“Turn around for me then angel”

You do just that, turning around so that your back is facing him again and his touch is gentle, barely there as he reaches up to brush your hair to the side once more. His lips find the nape of your neck, scattering kisses over your skin, and this time you don’t tense up as he reaches for the fabric.

He’s slow in releasing the buttons, his fingers skimming over your now exposed skin as he takes his time, undoing them one by one before finally reaching the last after what feels like a life time. His lips never leave your skin as his hands lift to brush the straps off of your shoulders, guiding the material down your body before dropping it to pool around your ankles.

Left in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties, it takes all of your strength to turn and face him. He takes you in, allowing his gaze to drift down your body and he feels himself twitch in the confines of his boxers. The sight of you bare in front of him makes his head spin, feeling overwhelmed by the need to reach out and touch you.

“So fucking pretty” he murmurs, his words setting your body alight as his hand slays out on your waist.

There’s a bright look in his eyes as he draws you closer, guiding you to step out of your dress, and you forget why you were ever worried.

“Thank you for trusting me” he whispers against your temple, scattering featherlight kisses there as you lean further into his body.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he trails his kisses down your face, over your cheeks before landing on your lips.

You melt into him, his grip keeping you upright as you kiss him back with everything you have. Your hands creep up his back, one finding its way into his hair as the other clutches onto his shoulder. Nails dig into his skin through the material of his shirt but he doesn’t care, losing himself in the feeling of your lips on his.

Your fingers rake through his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle and his lips part on a gasp when your nails scratch over his scalp. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue between his lips, clashing with his own as you fight to take control.

It’s a little messy, but neither of you care, years of pent up feelings and frustrations being poured into the kiss until the burning desire to please him becomes too strong to ignore.

“You’ve still got way too many clothes on” you complain between kisses and he chuckles against your lips, reaching to unbutton his shirt.

“No, sit” you say, and he falls back onto the edge of the mattress with a gentle push of your hands against his shoulders.

He leans back, gazing up at you through his lashes, watching with dark eyes as you settle into his lap with a new found confidence.

You leave enough space between you to reach up and fiddle with his buttons, undoing them one by one as your lips scatter kisses over his jaw. His pulls you forwards by your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you continue to undress him.

You struggle a little due to how close you are, but you manage to get the last few buttons undone, working the shirt off his shoulders. It gets discarded behind you, joining your dress on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His shoulders flex as he leans back on his hands and you take him in, eyes dragging down his chest from the chain that dangles around his neck to the small tattoo that sits high on his ribs, there’s a light dusting of hair on his chest, his muscles softly toned.

You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but sitting under you now he has you unable to think straight. You have never been so turned on just by looking at someone.

Your need to please him becomes stronger by the second, your mouth having a mind of its own as you trail your kisses down his neck, lighting sucking on his skin until you find his sweet spot. A breathy whine falls from his lips, his fingers digging into your hips a little tighter and that’s when you know you’ve found it, your lips closing over the most sensitive patch of skin.

Your lips graze over the area, licking and nipping as you make your way down to his collarbones, careful not to leave any marks where they may be visible.

He shivers, trembling under your touch as your hands slide down from his shoulders and over his chest, your lips following their path. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tease at the skin right next to his nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a sneaky mark before continuing down to his tummy, making sure to pay special attention to any moles or freckles that you find on your way.

Your legs feel like jelly as you climb off his lap and lower to your knees in front of him, hands pushing his thighs apart to allow you enough space to settle between them. The carpet is rough against your skin, but you can’t bring your self to care as you shuffle around to get more comfortable.

He isn’t without your touch long, his muscles fluttering under your fingers as you graze your lips over the soft ridges of his abs, placing open mouthed kisses along the waist band of his trousers until he grows impatient, his hands aimlessly reaching for his belt.

“Let me” you murmur, moving his hands back to rest by his sides before finding the buckle.

You’re slow in pulling it from the loops, taking your time as you drop it behind you and move to undo the button and zipper, dragging it down at an agonisingly slow pace before sitting back and allowing him to lift his hips. You drag the fabric down his legs along with his boxers, mouth watering as his already hard length springs free from the confines of the fabric.

“Much better,” you drawl, and he lets out a whimper as your lips kiss a path along the inside of his thigh, ignoring the area he needs you the most before moving to the other.

“Y/N, please do something” he pleads, but you don’t need to be told twice, his thighs jumping when a dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock.

He feels thick and heavy in your palm when you give him an experimental tug, glancing up through your lashes to see his eyes fluttering closed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Feel good, Mase?” You coo, and his eyes pop open again, the sight of you on your knees between his legs making him feel light headed.

“S-so good” he stutters, hips raising to meet your hand as you twist it over him again before releasing him all together.

You run your fingertips over the underside of his length and he lets out a breathy moan of your name, the sound going straight to your core as you swirl your fingers over his tip and smear the drop of pre cum that’s collected there.

“Fuck, Y/N” he curses, struggling to keep his eyes open as you move your hand back to his base, holding him steady as you lower your head, lips wrapping around his tip.

You flick your tongue over his slit, humming as the salty taste of his pre cum coats your tastebuds and he drops back, resting on his elbows and watching as you take more of him.

You relax your jaw, moving further down his length and taking as much of him as you can whilst your hand works what you can’t fit in your mouth. The sinful sounds that leave his lips only spur you on, continuing to bob your head as you gaze up at him through your lashes.

“Oh my-, fucking hell” he pants, his hand reaching for the back of your head to gather your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. “You’re so good at that”

His eyes squeeze closed when you take him even further and you gag, eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat before pulling back to catch your breath.

Your hands keep up their movements, twisting and tugging until you take him into your mouth again and you let him guide you this time, hollowing your cheeks as he lowers your mouth down his length.

You brace your free hand against his thigh, letting him pick up the pace slightly as you work him towards his release.

“Gonna make me come, Y/N” he sighs, the feeling of your warm mouth around him sending him hurtling towards his orgasm.

“I’ve got you, Mase, come for me” you coo, and he fights to keep his hips still as you pay attention to his head again, tongue swirling over his tip.

One final flick of your tongue over his slit and he’s cuming into your mouth with a grunt, hand tightening in your hair as you work him through his high, swallowing every last drop. You only move away when his hips start bucking from the sensitivity, leaving one final kiss to his tip before sitting back on your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he smiles down at you softly, reaching out for you and you take his hands, standing on shaky legs before lowering yourself back into his lap.

“You okay?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups his hand over your jaw.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his tongue moving over yours and he hums when he tastes himself on your mouth.

His hands trail up your thighs until he finds your panties, hooking his fingers under the fabric, pulling them back before releasing them to snap against your skin.

“Lets get these off” He mumbles, helping you climb off his lap and you move to stand in front of him, shimmying the scrap of lace down your legs as he watches you with crazed eyes until you’re completely bare in front of him.

“Lay down for me” he requests and you do as he asks, sinking back into the duvet as you rest your head against the pillows.

You watch as he stands, walking around the bed to pick his wallet up from the pile of stuff he brought with him earlier and he pulls out a shiny foil packet before climbing back onto the bed.

“Not so fast, baby girl” he tuts as you reach for it, trying to take it from between his fingers, but he places it to the side instead.

“Lay back and let me love on you a little bit”

He moves to hover over you and his lips are on yours in an instant, staying there for just a moment before trailing his kisses over your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on your delicate skin as he makes his way down your throat.

“Mase” The moan tumbles from your lips, nails scratching the skin on the back of his neck as you bring your hand up in a desperate attempt to move him lower.

“What do you want, Angel?” He coos, voice vibrating against your skin as he kisses over your collar bones.

“Y-you, please”

“Patience, baby. Let me take my time with you”

And take his time with you he does, his lips dragging over every inch of skin that he can reach as he learns and memorises all of your favourite spots, the ones that have you making those sweet little noises he’s loving so much.

He mouths over your chest, kissing from one side to the other before closing his lips over your nipple and your back arches to meet his mouth as he licks over the sensitive nub, his hand sliding up your body to pay attention to the other. He gropes at your skin, pinching and tugging at your nipple before switching sides to pay them equal attention.

His other hand stays steady on your waist as his lips continue south, keeping you pressed into the mattress when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, causing you to squirm against him.

“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks, and you glance down at him, mind reeling as he gazes back at you through his lashes.

You nod vigorously, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slides his hands up the insides of your thighs, separating them enough to settle between them and his breath fans over your core as he inches closer.

“Fuck, look at you” he coos, teasing two fingers through your folds to collect your wetness and your brain short circuits when he takes them between his lips, humming as you coat his tastebuds.

“Taste incredible”

He uses the same two fingers to circle over your clit, waves of pleasure shooting up your spine, and you can’t help the pathetic moan that falls from your lips, head dropping back against the pillows as he shuffles closer.

“Feel good, Angel?” He hums, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.

“Yes Mase, fuck. More” you plead, and his mouth finally meets your centre, a barely there kiss being pressed to your clit before he licks a long stripe up your entrance.

His hands move to hold your hips down as he eats you out like you’re his last meal, no longer wanting to hold back and your moans only encourage him. He alternates between licking and sucking, sealing his lips around your little bundle of nerves before dropping to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit which has you moaning uncontrollably, back arching to meet his mouth.

Your hands fly to the back of his head, needing something to hold onto, and he hums against you when you tug on his hair, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure that you’re feeling.

You’re unable to think straight, the feeling of his mouth against your core making you forget about everything other then him and how good he’s making you feel, and it’s not long until you feel your orgasm creeping up.

“Mase, oh fuck” you sigh, and when he brings a hand between you to slip a finger through your folds, you’re done for.

His other arm hooks under your thigh, holding you open for him as he slips his finger inside of you, pumping it a few times to stretch you out before adding another.

“I’m gonna cum, Mase, oh my god” you whine, and he doesn’t relent, pulsing his fingers inside of you, his tongue working in tandem with them as he swirls it around your bundle of nerves.

“Let go for me, baby” he encourages, and you cum on his tongue as he suctions his lips around your clit, seeing stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

He works you through it, licking you clean until you’re tugging at his hair and he moves away, crawling back up your body.

You lay limp underneath him, eyes closed and lips parted as you catch your breath, feeling well and truly spent from the orgasm he just gave you. Your cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, and your make up is slightly smudged, but he still swears that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful, his heart fluttering at the sight of you underneath him.

“So pretty” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your cheeks and the butterflies - the ones that have made a permanent home in your stomach - come back out in full force.

You flutter your eyes open and the twinkle that you find in his own has your insides turning to warm, bubbly liquid, his expression swimming with fondness.

“How are you feeling, baby?” He asks, shuffling slightly so that he can rest his weight against one elbow before trailing his free hand up your thigh, massaging your hips where he was gripping before.

“Good” you smile up at him, fingers toying with the chain that still sits around his neck, “More than good, actually. But there is one thing that would make me feel even better”

He raises an eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You gather as much strength as you can in your post orgasm daze, hooking your legs over his waist to pull his hips down into yours and his eyes widen, realising what you mean.

“Needy girl” he tuts, hissing when you grind your hips and his hard length grazes over your core, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Please Masey. Need to feel you”

“I know baby girl, I’ve got you. Just relax for me”

He gives you a quick yet tender kiss before reaching over to pick up the foil packet from earlier and you shiver as he tears it open, squirming in anticipation as he sits back on his feet and pulls out the condom to roll it down his length.

“You still want to do this?” He asks you for what seems like the tenth time that evening, looking at you with soft eyes.

“Mase, what kind of question is that?” You chuckle, hand coming to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch when you brush your thumb over his skin gently, “Of course I do”

“Just double checking, Angel” he rests his forehead against yours, nose nudging your cheek and your heart soars at the softness of the moment.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, Mase. Need you”

You wrap your arms around his shoulder as he settles on top of you, spreading your legs for him to rest between as he finds a position that’s comfortable.

He runs a gentle, comforting hand over the outside of your thigh, using the other to guide himself towards your entrance and you suck in a breath as he lines himself up, his tip nudging against your slit.

Your quick intake of breath has his eyes snapping up to yours, concern etched onto his features. “What wrong, baby?”

“Nothings wrong” you reassure him, one of your hands finding its rightful place tangled in his hair, “It’s just been a while, just go slowly please?”

“We’ll go at your pace, baby. Just tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?”

“Okay”

You reach down, encouraging him to move with a slow twist of your hand over his length and his lips are back on yours when he lines himself up with your entrance, swallowing your moans as he pushes in until only his tip is buried inside of you.

He gives you a few moments to adjust, not liking how you wince from the slight stretch, but you only nod up at him, encouraging him to keep going and you moan in unison when he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. So tight baby” he moans, his raspy voice right next to your ear.

“Let me know when I can move” his thumb brushes in tender circles over your hip, his other hand pressing into the mattress next to your head and you reach for it, unwinding one of your arms from around his shoulders to side your fingers through his.

Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him in a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine and he drops his head into the crook of his neck when you give him the go ahead to start moving.

He keeps his pace slow at first, gauging what you enjoy and what’s comfortable. A slow push and pull of his hips as you learn each others bodies.

“You feel incredible, Angel” he grunts, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips press into you with every thrust.

“Mason, fuck” You scratch your nails over his skin, back arching as he gives one particularly hard thrust that has his tip brushing over your sweet spot, “right there”

“There?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits it again, a desperate moan leaving your lips as he keeps pushing deeper.

“Y-yeah, faster Mase, p-please”

Your stuttered request is barely audible over the sound of your moans but he hears you just fine, picking up his pace as you wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to hit deeper, finding that sweet spot with every roll of his hips.

Every single thrust feels incredible, his fingers now digging into your waist to hold you steady. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard as he works you both towards your highs.

“Fuck, Mase, I’m nearly there” you pant, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the feeling of him everywhere sending you hurtling towards your realise sooner than you’d expected.

“I’m right behind you, baby” he groans, pulling his head out of your neck when you tug on his hair, wanting to see him when you cum.

He looks ethereal on top of you, the bridge of his nose flushed as well as his cheeks, his hair a mess and falling over his forehead as that chain dangles between you. You reach for it, using it to tug him down and his lips collide with yours in a heated kiss.

“Mason…” you sob, unable to take your eyes off of his when he rests his forehead against yours.

“I know baby, I’ve got you. Let go for me” he encourages, his thumb finding your clit and that’s all you need to go falling over the edge, walls contracting around him as your orgasm hits you.

A wave of white hot pleasure rolls through you, your entire body trembling against him as he works you through it.

He isn’t far behind, pressing his hips to yours as the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length sends him toppling over the edge with a moan of your name.

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips faltering as he thrusts through it, thumb continuing to brush over your clit until you’re pushing his hand away when you get too sensitive.

With one final thrust he goes limp on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, spent from his orgasm. Your hand finds the back of his head, lightly scratching over his scalp as you both take a moment to catch your breaths. Neither of you make any effort to move for a while, Mason staying buried inside of you whilst your heart beats return to a steady pace.

You wince from the sensitivity when he eventually moves to pull out of you slowly, the kisses that he litters over your forehead soothing you before he discards the condom and collapses onto the mattress beside you.

He reaches towards the end of the bed, pulling up the blanket and you don’t hesitate to shuffle into his arms when he opens them for you, settling against his side with your head resting against his chest as he holds you close.

He knows that he should get you cleaned up, but he can’t bring himself to move as you snuggle into him, one arm draped over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, so he lets you get comfortable against him, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his.

A couple of minuets pass and you stay in a comfortable silence, fiddling with his chain as you rest on his chest, growing more tired by the second as his fingers sooth over your skin. He wishes you could stay like that for the rest of the night, not wanting to disturb you, but when you start to grow heavy against him he knows he needs to get you up before you fall asleep completely.

“Come on” he hums, lightly tapping your shoulder to encourage you to move. “Got to get you cleaned up, bubba”

You don’t make any effort to move, quite content with staying in his arms and not leaving for the foreseeable future.

“I’m tired” You groan as he resorts to gently pushing you off of him, rolling off the bed completely before holding his hands out for you to take, but you bury your face into the pillows and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, missing his warmth immediately.

The bed dips under his weight as he kneels back onto the mattress, hands massaging into your shoulders before rolling you over to face him.

You pout up at him, shaking your head in protest. You know you’ll regret it in the morning if you go straight to sleep without properly getting ready for bed, but nothing sounds better than climbing back under the sheets with him and falling asleep.

“I know, but the quicker we get in that shower the quicker we can get back into bed” he tells you softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as you gaze up at him sleepily. “Let me take care of you, bubs”

His gentle smile and sweet words are enough to have you crumbling, holding your arms out for him and he doesn’t need to ask to understand what you want.

He effortlessly scoops you up, a kiss being pressed to your temple as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through to the en-suite bathroom, careful to avoid the clothes that are still scattered around the floor.

He switches the bathroom lights on, keeping them on the dim setting when he notices you squinting from the brightness and moves to set you down on the counter.

Reaching to the side, he picks up your make up bag, looking through it to find some of your makeup wipes before taking one out of the packet. You try and take it from him but he swats your hand away, tilting your chin up with his fingers before bringing the wipe to your cheek.

Your heart flutters at how gentle he’s being with you as he takes his time, swiping the wipe over your skin as he makes sure to get every last bit of makeup. His little focused face makes you giggle, his tongue popping out from between his lips as he concentrates, being extra careful when he gets to your eyes.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips once he’s finished, throwing the wipe into the bin before turning around to get the shower started and your mouth dries at the sight of his back when he faces away from you.

Red scratches decorate his skin, some travelling as high as his neck and you watch as his back flexes when he reaches for the taps to set the water temperature. You feel yourself heat from head to toe at the sight, struggling to keep your composure when he turns to face you again, instantly noticing your flushed cheeks.

“What’s up, bubba?” He asks, hands coming to rest on your hips as he moves to stand between your spread legs.

“I don’t think you should let anyone else see you shirtless for a couple of days” You tell him, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a giggle.

“Why? What did you do?”

He moves away from you to look at his reflection in the mirror, eye brows furrowing when he doesn’t find any hickeys or marks like he had expected to.

He looks back to you confused, but you wiggle your finger in a circle, telling him to turn around. He does, looking back at his reflection over his shoulder and you can see the moment he realises, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the scratches and marks left by your nails.

“You really didn’t hold back did you?”

“Sorry”

“Don’t be. Just means that I made you feel good” he says with confidence, winking at you with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

You swat at his chest, not needing to admit that he’s right because you both already know the answer.

He holds a hand out for you, helping you off the counter and steadying you when you stand on wobbly legs, your body aching in the best way possible as he guides you towards the shower.

He steps in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and your body slumps into his, face finding a home in the crook of his neck as the water cascades over you.

“You okay?” He mumbles right next to your ear and you nod in response, letting out a content sigh as you nuzzle into his skin.

You stay like that for a while, the water soothing your aching bodies before he reaches over and takes your travel sized shampoo from the little shelf behind you. He squeezes a generous amount into his palm, lathering it up before bringing his hands to your hair and you hold onto his waist, needing something to steady yourself as the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp sends you into a state of complete bliss.

He rinses it out after a couple of minuets - still way too soon for your liking - and repeats the process with your conditioner, letting you do the same thing for him.

As soon as you’re both washed off he gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before taking another and holding it out for you. Getting out behind him, you step into the towel, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

You both get dried off, changing into the fluffy hotel robes before he moves to leave the bathroom, wanting to give you some privacy to finish up your nighttime routine, but you take a hold of his hand, not wanting him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, bubs” he reassures, noticing a faint look of panic on your features. He slides his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze, “I’m just going to tidy the clothes up and grab you something to sleep in okay? I’ll be back in a few minuets”

“Okay, sorry” you mumble, loosening your grip on his hand, feeling silly for getting so paranoid all of a sudden. “I just don’t want you to leave”

His expression softens. “I’m not leaving, Bambi. I promise. Could never leave you”

He presses a series of kisses to your face, one to your forehead, one to your cheek, one of your nose - that one has you giggling - and finally one to your lips, making sure that you’re smiling again when he disappears into the bedroom.

You busy yourself with drying your hair whilst he picks up your abandoned clothes, placing them into a neater pile next to your suitcase so that they can be dealt with in the morning.

He grabs the spare blanket from the wardrobe and puts it on the bed, switching the main lights off so that only the beside lamp is left on before changing into his clean pair of boxers and finding his toothbrush and the t-shirt that he brought with him earlier.

You’re just turning the hair dryer off when he comes back into the bathroom, brushing through your hair as he places his toothbrush next to yours on the counter. The sight of them next to each other has your heart flip-flopping in your chest, the action oddly domestic.

The multiple bottles and pots of skin care products that you have laid out catch his attention when he comes to stand beside you and he picks one up, reading over the bottle curiously.

“What’s all this?”

“You don’t know?” You meet his eyes through the reflection, surprised when he shakes his head in response. But his skin is always so clear?

“Can you show me?” He asks timidly, watching as you nod before jumping up onto the counter again.

You spread your legs, pulling him to step between them and his hands rest against your thighs as you pick up the first bottle, squeezing some of the serum onto your fingers before massaging it into his face. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation of you working the products into his skin, tracing the contours of his face as you tell him what each product is and explain what it’s used for.

He listens to your every word, loving how passionate you seem about it and making a mental note to ask you what they are again in the morning, so that he can buy some of the products for himself and keep some at his house for when you stay over.

You finish up with one of your favourite moisturisers before running through the same routine on yourself, letting Mason help when he insists and enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him.

“Thank you” you mumble, leaning forward to brush your lips over his in a soft kiss and he reciprocates, stepping back to allow you to jump off the counter when you pull away.

“Here, put this on” he says, handing you the t-shirt that he brought in, and you happily change into it, his scent lingering on the fabric and filling your senses as the material falls to your upper thigh.

The sight of you in his clothes is one he wants to see for the rest of his life.

You stand side by side at the sink and brush your teeth together, pulling faces at each other through the mirror as you do before following him back through to the bedroom.

You climb into bed first, getting comfortable under the duvet as he plugs his phone in to charge, begrudgingly setting an alarm for the morning. You both know it’ll be a struggle to wake up, but your flight back up to Manchester leaves at 10am, and you still need to make it to the airport before then.

But that’s a problem for the morning. All you’re concerned about now is holding him.

He settles under the sheets next to you, cuddling into your open arms and sliding you closer with an arm hooked over your waist. Your legs tangle together, bodies pressed close as he snuggles into you, his head finding it’s home in the crook of your neck.

He sighs contentedly, melting into you as you rest a hand on his arm and trace the outlines of his tattoos with your fingertips, his own sneaking under your (his) t-shirt to draw random patterns onto the soft skin of your tummy.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in weeks. The feeling of being in your arms bringing him a sense of comfort that he never thought possible, but he knows you still have something to talk about, and he’s about to bring it up when you beat him to it.

“What does this mean?” You whisper, the question that’s been on your mind for the past half an hour finally slipping through your lips as you raise your free hand and brush your fingers through his hair.

“It means I’m yours Y/N” he mumbles into your skin before pulling his head from your neck. He shuffles up your body slightly, moving so that he’s hovering above you. “If you’ll have me”

Your hand moves from his hair to instead cup his jaw, your fingertips lightly scratching through his beard as you gently pull him down to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

“I like you, like a lot” you tell him when you separate, but you keep him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders

“I’m way beyond like, baby” He admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips and he knows it’s soon, but his heart feels like it’s bursting, and he can’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, I have been for a long time”

He watches you carefully, waiting for any kind of reaction, and he’s a little worried when you don’t have one, your face staying neutral as his words sink in.

But then comes the smile, your lips tilting up as a look of complete and utter joy paints your features.

You’re overwhelmed by different emotions, cheeks hurting from how wide you’re smiling and you can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his again, stealing his breath away with a searing kiss.

The taste of your minty toothpaste still lingers on his tongue when he pushes it through the seem of your lips, working it against yours in slow, languid strokes as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, his fingers gently tilting your head back and your hand slides around to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

Your chest is heaving when you eventually pull back, looking up up at him through your lashes as you catch your breath. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed and his damp hair messy from you running your fingers through it.

“You don’t have to say it back, I know you might not feel the same but I-“

“Mason, are you kidding me?” You cut him off, cupping his face in both of your palms. “I’m so in love with you”

A breath of relief leaves his parted lips upon hearing your words, his heart rate settling as you look up at him with twinkling eyes.

“I always have been, Mase. You mean absolutely everything to me”

“Yeah?”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding up at him with complete certainty.

“Mason you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve never felt this way before and I know that I won’t feel it for anyone other than you. You’re it for me”

His eyes shine with emotion, his jaw aching from how hard he’s smiling. He feels like he’s floating, your words putting him on cloud nine.

“I love everything about you, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, but it’s not just that. You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re funny, you make me feel wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before, I’ve waited my whole life for this and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours Masey”

You lean up, pressing your lips to his in one final kiss and when he rolls off of you, you move with him. He lays back against the mattress, arms opening wide for you to climb into and you settle against his chest as he adjusts the duvet over you.

“When we get home I’m taking you on a date” he tells you, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I know you’re already mine, but I want to do this properly, and that includes you letting me spoil you”

Mine. You want to hear it over and over.

“Can I choose the restaurant?” You query, already making a mental list of places that you could go.

“Only if you let me choose the movie when we get back to mine after”

“Who said that I’ll be going back to yours?”

“Just because it’s our ‘first’ -” he lifts his hand, making air quotes, “ - date that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing and drop you home with a kiss to your cheek after”

“Looks like you’re picking the movie then” You pat his chest, giggling as he mumbles a quiet ‘good’ and you settle back onto his arms with a yawn.

He leans over to turn the lamp off, the room overcome with complete darkness as he pulls the blankets up to your chin.

“Get some sleep, bubba. Early start tomorrow” He whispers with a kiss to your forehead and you groan into his chest.

“Don’t remind me. Can’t we just stay here forever?”

That really does sound like the best idea ever. Here. As in the little bubble that you’ve built together in this hotel room. You’re not ready for it to pop.

“I wish we could Bambi, but I want to get home and take you on that date”

“I wonder what Lewis will say” you murmur.

Your families have been rooting you you both to get together for years, so you know he’ll be happy for you, but telling him as well as the rest of your families somehow seems really scary.

“Well, I was thinking-“

“Oh no” you cut him off, and he chuckles, chest rumbling under your cheek.

“How about we keep this to ourselves for a bit?” He suggests, fingers sliding between yours where they lay against his chest. “No one needs to know just yet, we’ll just take it slow and tell them when we’re ready”

“I like the sound of that. Just me and you for a little while”

“Exactly” he sighs, already looking forward to getting you home and exploring this new dynamic with you.

He feels whole as he glances down at you through the darkness, a wide smile painting his lips and he doesn’t think it’ll be leaving any time soon. He’s spent what feels like a life time waiting for this, waiting for his person, waiting for you. He’s not sure he’s ever been happier than he feels in this moment, all of his worries forgotten about as you lay in his arms.

He can just about manage to make out your features and his heart is bursting at the seams with love for you as he leans down to press another kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight, Bambi”

“Night, Mase. Love you”

———————

a/n: If you have made it this far I just want to say a massive THANK YOU! I really do hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻 Feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

[cordycepsfem]

So my girlfriend and I went to our local Pride event today, one that I’ve written about previously here.

I did not want to go. This is because I am new-task-avoidant, and Pride was on one day of my usually tightly-hoarded weekend. But she asked that I go and meet some of her friends from her volunteering group so I said sure.

Meeting her friends was great - they’re fun and welcoming people from a variety of backgrounds, and I’m glad we did that. I hope we can spend time with them again soon.

Then we go out to the actual festival part. It is loud. There are people everywhere. This is unsurprising because it is a pride event in a major city. As people we are not fond of loud, crowded events… but we made the effort to get here so we’re going to go through it.

So we start walking.

As we make our way through the crowds I realize that the two of us are some of the more conservative-looking individuals there. We’re in T-shirts, shorts, baseball caps, functional shoes. There are many, many people in what we on here are all familiar with as “queer” costuming - it’s loud, it’s ugly, and it’s adorned with pins and stickers demanding attention. Many people have giant flags around their necks.

We see booths with obviously female individuals selling merchandise emblazoned with “f*ggot” doing a robust business. Lots of apparel and accessories that scream “I have an identity and I’m here to make it your problem!!” One booth has a pin showing a mastectomy-scarred chest reading “the no-titty committee” which causes me to let out a sad noise, because sure enough I’ve seen at least ten individuals with bare chests and some awful mastectomy scars wandering around. Some have glitter or fancy tape adoring their scars. Others have very obvious “dog ears” which look sloppy and painful.

(Note: I am not saying that having scars is awful. I am saying that the way the incisions were made was imprecise, leaving scars that are larger and that look worse as compared to, like, an actually good surgeon performing a regulated procedure with a standardized course, and not a “gender medicine professional.” This is obviously my own bias from doing research and from seeing others “in the wild” and should only be taken as my opinion. I have plenty of scars; the surgical ones all look clean and well-executed. These did not.)

We keep walking. There were at least two furry booths. Lots of people in puppy masks. Plenty of trans-focused groups.

We buy a few things at some of the more relevant booths and I stop to talk to one group about a job. My girlfriend says she’s ready to go, so we cut around the rest of the park and head for a nearby bookstore.

As we’re walking she takes my hand. “That pride wasn’t for us.”

“No.”

“I don’t know who it was for, but it wasn’t for us.”

I said “I told you so” in the kindest of voices but it was really just sad. This event and so many others happening this month are no longer for actual LGBT people. They are a celebration of the commodification of “queer” identity. Were there some booths there with people doing good work for those in our communities? Yes, without a doubt. But was there a bigger contingent of people there to give a “fuck you” to the world? Yep.

The first Pride events were to show straight people that LGBT people were not sexual deviants. Now the sexual deviants have booths at the Pride events.

I would just like a lesbian event. Just women. I’m willing to start it and run it. Girlfriend was so excited to go to Pride, and I think she left more disappointed than anything else. There are no longer a lot of “normies” at Pride. They have to be somewhere, so where?

[alcoholfreenayeon]

Conquering fears….

Nayeon x Reader (fluff)

A/N: I know I should be working on my requests rn but SOMEONE had triggered me and I had to get this off my chest. Anyways I hope you all enjoy because this is based off true events between me and Nayeon a few weeks ago.

Nayeon called you from the other room, she was doing a live and wanted you to accompany her. Of course you were happy to oblige. Joining her, you both talked for a little bit and then one of the comments caught Nayeon’s eye, “have you both gone on an amusement park date?”, she reads out.

“No”, you answer politely but firmly.

“It’s because you are scared of roller coasters”, Nayeon teased.

“No I’m not!” You defend yourself immediately.

“Ahh…then why don’t we go-”, she begins with a smirk.

“I’m not scared”, you repeat defensively, “I just don’t like them”

“That’s just another way of saying you are scared”, she continued to tease. “You don’t need to be scared though, I’ll hold your hand if you want.”, she says seriously this time.

“I….”, you feel your heart flutter a bit at the seriousness of her suggestion but then notice the slight cracks of her trying not to smile and become defensive again. “I…I-w-what are we even talking about?” You say exasperatedly, your hands moving in indignation. “If you want to go just say so and we’ll go. Actually you know what, let’s just go on the weekend then. Because IM NOT SCARED” you say, fired up now.

Nayeon seems a bit surprised by this reaction but smiles and agrees to it and says the chat is the witness and there’s no backing now to which you agree.

The rest of the week goes by quite uneventfully and today is the day of the date. Nayeon had a magazine shoot and said she’d only return in the afternoon so you had much of the day to yourself. Surprisingly you were kinda excited and looking forward to it. As the hours went by, you couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement that you were feeling.

Nayeon had just gotten ready as well, her cute shirt had a dinosaur drawn on by Chaeyoung and she had her favorite pink handbag slung on her shoulder. “Are we ready to go?”, she asks while she takes a few pictures of herself.

“Yea let’s go”, you reply.

It takes about half an hour to reach the amusement park. The two of you get your tickets and make your way to small lighthearted rides initially which you like because it completely calms you down and look forward to spending the evening with your girlfriend even more.

After going on a few different ones, Nayeon begins to lead you towards the roller coaster. Of course this was also the highest and fastest roller coaster of the country. No big deal right…..

As you both got in line, the roller coaster tracks actually seemed to go quite high up. You could have sworn they weren’t that high just a minute ago and surely it wouldn’t be going that fast….right?

Your nerves were beginning to return and you were starting to think this might have been a mistake. But before you could back out, Nayeon moved ahead to sit on it, looking at you expectantly and you caved in and followed her. Still trying to seem calm, you stayed silent.

However, when the lap bars lowered you realized this was actually happening and there was no turning back now. Frustrated and nervous you were completely annoyed at yourself. Why did you have to agree to this. Well, it was your idea to be fair but there was no need to suggest it in the first place. Ugh, for once why couldn’t you just swallow your pride and admit it….that you were-

You exhaled sharply while trying to seem as though you were calm as the roller coaster suddenly started to move, steadily going ahead towards the first climb.

Meanwhile Nayeon was excited for the ride. She wasn’t the bravest and did feel slightly scared of roller coasters but also enjoyed going on them. She glanced at you and while you seemed calm enough, she knew you well enough to know this was just a facade and that you were actually quite uncomfortable right now. She felt a twinge of guilt as she began to think maybe she shouldn’t have teased you so much and kind of forced you to come here.

You took a deep breath and kept your focus straight ahead hoping it doesn’t last too long. The first climb was almost done and just as you were reaching the top, you felt Nayeon’s hand slip into yours. You froze for a second, not knowing how to react, then glanced a her through your peripherals for a second and kept looking ahead. You felt a bit better but also more nervous somehow.

Nayeon was surprised when you began to squeeze her hand tightly as the descent was approaching. She badly wanted to comfort you then and there but of course nothing could be done now so she squeezed your hand back. She noticed almost immediately that as long she was holding your hand tightly, your grip was relaxed but if she loosened her grip, you’d immediately squeeze her hand.

As the first fall began, you tried to remain as calm you could, Nayeon’s hand being one of the biggest reasons why could remain as composed as you were. After about 5 minutes, the nightmare was over and ride ended. You then realized how hard you were gripping Nayeon’s hand and let go quickly.

After exiting the roller coaster, the two of you were in a somewhat awkward silence for a little bit until you both came across some food stalls and you bought some food for the both of you.

Nayeon broke the silence by commenting on how delicious it was and you both made some small conversation and after eating explored the park a little more. It was almost completely dark now and the crowd of people was steadily increasing. Nayeon commented that she was fine with leaving now.

But you wanted to go on the Ferris wheel before leaving lead Nayeon to it. She was a bit surprised but also quite touched and also thought it was quite romantic. Both of you get on it and as you climbed higher, you looked at her, sitting solemnly and looking outside and couldn’t help but think about how beautiful she was and about how she held your hand back on the roller coaster. Your cheeks flushed a bit at that recollection and you sat next to her, joining her in enjoying the view and her company in silence.

After returning home, you realized how tired you felt from the trip. The journey back home took almost an hour due to the traffic. Nayeon was probably even more tired considering she had some work today, you thought and were right when you went to the bedroom to see she had already changed and was on the bed, practically asleep.

You changed and went to bed as well, laying next to her. You looked at her, looking peaceful and breathing cutely, you ran a finger on her cheek gently caressing it and brushing off a strand off hair. Well, now’s a good time as any, you think to yourself, you’d be getting it off your chest and you technically not be admitting it since she was asleep and wouldn’t know about it.

You kiss her forehead gently and softly speak, “hey….thanks for…holding my hand back then. I guess I was kind of…nervous, no, I was kind of scared but you made me feel better, safer too I guess.”, she stirs a bit and you brush off another strand of hair from her face. “I did enjoy the day though…I mean…it was hard not to with you around. But yeah…thanks again for being there.”, you kiss her forehead again and lay down with a sigh. That’s when you feel an arm creep up over you. You turn to look and see Nayeon sheepishly smiling at you. Feeling color fill up your cheeks you quickly turn away feeling shy.

Nayeon doesn’t spare you and leans on your chest, “I heard it all”, she says with a coy smile and suddenly hugs you. “You don’t need to ask me for anything like that you know. I’m here for you, doesn’t matter if it’s for something serious or something stupid. You can count on me.” This time she kisses your forehead only to see you with your eyes closed, practically asleep but she also notices the faint redness on your face and smiles. Leaning on your chest and snuggling, listening to your heart beat, she begins to doze off to its rhythm.

[crabussy]

Hi robin hope you're doing good!! Are there any places to see or things to do you'd recommend for someone visiting Aotearoa for the first time?

hi its actually francis but I'm just as (if not more but don't tell him I said that hehehe) fanatic about aotearoa!!! I'm happy to help out. I'm gonna write a bit and leave this in drafts and then rob can finish it off cause its reaaaally late!! eek!! I gotta sleep because there's hiking happening tomorrow!

waitomo glowworm caves are great but ACTUALLY!!! I DON'T RECOMMEND THE SUPER FAMOUS ONE!!!! it's nice but it's not so long and the photos you see online are usually better than the experience you get. try out ruakuri caves in waitomo instead!! they're pretty much right next to the most popular caves, but they're longer, deeper, contain more interesting formations AND glow worms as well!! not as many as the main one. it depends on what you're looking for!!! there's a SUPER COOL motel called woodlyn park where you can stay in an old boat, an old tram, an old plane or a hobbit house that have all been converted into rooms. it's really cool!! might be a bit costly though

SWIM SOMEWHERE IF YOU CAN!!!! a river, an estuary, a beach. check water quality first!! beaches are probably your best bet! one of my favourite things in the world to do is swim at the beaches in aotearoa. I have yet to see a beach that makes me happier than the ones here!

some REALLY COOL TOWNS include rotorua (super stinky geothermal hotspot!!! so cool!!!!! bright green lakes!!!) and ahuriri (art deco town!! they actually hold a 1920s inspired festival there yearly if I'm remembering right!), <- francis went to bed at this point HI its robin now. what the freak is up guess I'm writing the rest of this post. also I'm DEFINITELY the bigger fanatic don't listen to her. liar liar pants on fire etc

UM!!! DEFINITELY hike/do a day walk if you can. I fucking LOVE hiking here it's always beautiful. in te ika-a-māui (north island) I really enjoy the waitākere ranges, there's currently a rāhui for some areas but I went hiking last weekend and the trail I went on was really lovely. there are quite a few to choose from!! I went along exhibition drive and the beveridge track, entering from titirangi village.

we're well known for our native birds, but as many of them are endangered you might have trouble seeing many of them. I'd recommend tiritiri matangi, an amazing conservation island off the shore of tāmaki makaurau. it can be pricey to visit but the sheer number of birds to be seen there is wonderful!!! you can even see takahē, as well as kiwi at night. the cost of the ticket goes towards the conservation being done on the island.

if you have a chance to experience a kapa haka performance or attend a māori festival GO. GO GO GO. it's always incredible, the power and just. joyous fierce pride people put into the waiata and haka is amazing. if you go around june-july, you'll be there for matariki celebrations!!! experience them. there'll be lots of events happening in major cities like tāmaki makaurau and pōneke.

if you're up for a bit of camping, motutara farm is an absolute gem. it's in whananaki, and needs to be booked WAY in advance but my god its marvelous. the beach is wonderful the rockpools are fascinating the walks are incredible and the camping sites are so lovely. you will have to deal with long drops.

genuinely, and I'm so serious, if you end up in the north island LET ME KNOW!!!! I love meeting up with people and if you end up in the city I live in, I'd love to show you around!!! there's a walk I really love in my town that I'd be happy to take you on.

there's so much more but these are my (and francis's) top picks!!!! I love these islands so much. there's so much to be experienced. I WILL ALSO SAY!!! the public transport is very good. you can mostly rely on it especially in cities.

[misscammiedawn]

Plurality Weekend

Hey all. This post is for anyone discovering my blog for the first time this weekend. My name is Cammie Dawn and I write a lot about DID and Hypnokink. Both of these things will be quite relevant this weekend.

I'm attending The Plurality Positivity World Conference (info in link) this weekend after our therapist sent us to last year's event and it went well. Unrelated to the event, I'm also a panelist for a talk on hypnokink and plurality tomorrow (Saturday 5/18 at 1pm-3pm CST - info in link)

Networking at the PPWC for my Media, Myself and I essays (one kind person has already reached out to us about them which makes me glow with pride and grateful to know my stuff is getting out there) and providing my links to the panel tomorrow, I imagine I may get a few first time visitors to my blog. I thought I'd do a quick "resources and links" post.

For Media Essays:

Recontextualized Memory and Unprocessed Trauma in Umineko - A visual novel about generational trauma goes over how a young woman goes over and over the events of a tragedy in her childhood and how adult knowledge will recontextualize our adult recollections.

Derealization in Night in the Woods and Metal gear Solid 2 - Describing the sensation of derealization where the brain stops connecting associations between the self and the things one perceives in their surroundings. One example displaying how this impacts a person living with DPDR and the other showing an example of a game attempting to make a player share the experience with the player character.

DID and the healing process in Mr. Robot - A run down of the experiences of discovery, exploration, rejection and healing within DID as displayed in each season of Mr. Robot, along with a disappointed rundown of why the final episode fumbled the ball.

Bruce Banner and the roles of his alters - A breakdown of the formation of The Incredible Hulk’s DID and what roles his many alters play.

Romantic relationships with systems - A look at the marriage between Bruce Banner and Betty Talbot-Ross Banner in Hulk comics and a frank discussion between Betty and one of Bruce’s alters about how relationships function in a system.

Personality Play in Penlight - A review of one of the routes for a hypnokink visual novel called Penlight in which the protagonist hypnotizes a woman to have an alter personality, along with some descriptions of how dangerous play like that works in real life and what the consequences could be.

For Hypnokink Resources (more in our Hypnokink Writings tag):

Hypnosis and Dissociative Disorders - A Rebuttal to a recent claim at a hypnosis convention that we shouldn't practice with those who dissociate as part of a mental illness.

Ethical Personality Play - A discussion about the real psychological damage that can and will happen if you play with personality play in hypnokink without setting safeties and grounding as part of your play.

Unreality and Hypnosis - A small note about how derealization symptoms mingle with hypnokink and why grounding and ensuring "reality remains in the scene" is important.

Anyway. Thank you all. For those who follow me normally, I appreciate you indulging the link spam.

[froward-bat]

I went to Trek Long Island last weekend* and went to a few queer-specific Star Trek panels, simultaneous with restarting Star Trek Discovery, a DEEPLY flawed and frustrating show, but -

"Discovery is bad because they did 'kill your gays' with Culber" is such a dumb criticism of a show with LOTS to criticize otherwise. It doesn't count if it doesn't take lol - the entire problem with the 'kill your gays' trope is that it's an ending and reduces the number of on-screen queer characters, the guy comes back for another three and a half seasons! I think 'kill your gays' is an overly-derided trope anyway - death is an inherent part of life, and there are a number of important queer issues tied into death, so the idea that you can't ever depict a queer character dying is incredibly limiting - but it's especially annoying when people apply it to sci-fi or fantasy settings where death is operating differently. Culber's plot has more in common with the season of Buffy when she dies and comes back** than the movies that trope is derived from - I don't think it makes sense to talk about a show where the "dead" gay character comes back and lives on as a main character with his husband and their kids I've been spoiled for like it's "The Children's Hour". Too much context collapse! A constant problem with 'spot the trope' style media analysis.

(NOTE: I'm halfway through the second season so have no opinions on any later events I have been erratically spoiled for re: 'dead gays' on Discovery).

I think the actual problem with that plotline is that the writers were too conscious that it was a temporary situation, and slacked off on the emotional work with the characters in the period where Culber is dead (everyone including Stamets is WAY too 'business as usual' about it, and WAY too normal about Tyler) ... Though also not giving the character beats the time and space to cook properly is an endemic Discovery problem (the heterosexual Michael/Tyler relationship is a wild mess because of this same problem).

* what a dope way to start pride month, with an LGBT friendly Trek con capped off by a Trek drag show - go see To Proudly Go if you're in New York, they were great.

** saying this made me go "oh, are there people who complain about that season being a 'fridging' of Buffy?", and then I realized I don't need to investigate the poor media literacy discourse in fandoms I'm no longer in.

[elecalice]

Well, I had to do what I promised on the poll that I made.

This blog is dedicated to my attempt to do amateur Cosplay (Well, Crossplay) as Prosecutor Ito, from Mega Man Battle Network 6.

Amateur indeed, since I didn't and don't have a red tie, so I had to use a Bowtie. I feel that Ito could use a bowtie, I think. Also, I don't have formal shoes, so I had to use my cute beige Sneakers.

Yeah, I'm that amateur. But after all, I'm just casual and I'll not dedicate myself to cosplay. I'll sticking with drawings and other things.

I'll try to show the photos in chronological order.

WARNING// My real face (lol)

My first attempt on doing the Ito cosplay. It was December of 2022, and at one weekend there was a Geek/Nerd event. At Saturday, I went to buy a short for the cosplay. It kinda hurt my wallet back then, but oh well.

I even went to show off my Cosplay. I was SO nervious to show off to present my character, and I think I showed up too much introduction to my character. Eh, first times. But the best thing is that ONE PERSON recognized my character!! And he even took a picture of me! That made my day! ;w;

But I didn't took pictures on the event itself. But instead I took some photos during my way to walk to home. I took pictures nearby a tree, which fitted so well. (I took more but at that moment it was SO windy it kinda ruined some photos, in a funny way. Also, the book used was my copy of Fahrenheit 451. I didn't have a law book, so I improvised... yeah.)

Months later, now in 2023, I attended another event, the first event of a major Nerd event in my town. I even participated on the Cosplay contest. I sadly didn't took photos of myself on that event, except a few ones of me eating a origini. (That origini was delicious)

BUT as a compromise. I'll tell my experience on the Cosplay event... OH BOY.

I wasn't sure to participate, but then I decided to eat up my pride and participate. Adding to me not having a tie nor formal shoes, my hair, my natural hair by the way (not a wig), was long. But at least I complimented the Cosplay with a borrowed copy of my country's constitution. Yes really.

So yeah. But the most awkward detail was, I had to act in-character. And I was like "OH... FUCK". Ito doesn't do much, except operate JudgeMan or being the happy doomer prosecutor that we know. The NetNavis do the cool battle stuff, while the humans excluding some, don't do much. So yeah...I had to improvise. Using dialogue but... I didn't have a microphone, not they provided me one. So yeah. I had a massive disadvantage, and when I tried to speak, probably didn't reached to so many people. When I LAST attempted to "jack-in" JudgeMan at something, I did it in front of the judges, and I jumped out of embarassement. And fun? fact, acting while having your eyes close is, and I repeat, H.A.R.D. HARD, All caps. At least the judges told that the majority of time I actually looked at the public.

When I had to leave the scenario, I had to cover my face with the book, while my friends dragged me outside. I felt that my I wouldn't Cosplay as Ito again. This situation could've been more embarassing, if it wasn't for my friends supporting me during the whole dear, I REALLY appreciate them. ;w;

At least someone asked who's my character, and I told the lore around him, but I had difficulties due to my speech impediment with my unability to pronounce the hard R letter. (And in extention, the RR as well)

I had to recover the embarassment after that. I seriously considered NOT to Cosplay as Ito again... But at least I managed to eat my pride, accept that I did it and I should move on from that.

I also did a Tiktok making Ito dance a bit with the audio of Bo's "A really good book" Vine. I thought that the Vine fitted Ito SO MUCH that I had to do it while I was home alone. It was hard to find the perfect position to place my phone in orden to record that video. But yeah, I tried. Now I don't remember if I did it before or after the previously mentioned event. I think I did the TikTok before the event? I'm lazy to check the dates.

Now, in September, I managed to get a haircut. And in some moment, I had the idea to Cosplay and act like Ito for a moment. So I did it, and did some photos. I take more but I decided to put this three ones.

I also acted and did some videos of me acting as Ito and being angsty and edgy. Yes really. I tried to act. I also did some videos of Ito trying to awkwardly dance to Nürnberg's Valasy. I love Nürnberg's music, btw.

And now, the previous weekend, there was the second edition of the Nerd event on my town, and again I went as Ito. But I didn't participated on the Cosplay event. Because come on. I don't want to show off as Ito again, not due to embarassment, but because It's kinda boring of my part to show off again as Ito. Okay?

Anyways, despite the overwhelming first day, that and the second day I had fun. It was fun! I didn't took that much photos of myself. The first one I took it myself, but the second and third one I had a friend who took those photos of me in my cosplay. And the last photo, I did it after returning to home. (I also took one of myself with the brown jacket that I used in case that the day became cold. I think that jacket fitted Ito.)

So yeah!

As when I ate my pride to participate that contest, I'll be eating my pride showing my real face and dressing as my cuestionable blorbo.

And random fun fact, the me posing showing three fingers, is a reference to a Japanese fanart where Yuika, Vic and Ito pose showing three fingers, like a W. WWW, World Three. I love that fanart.

I kinda feel weird and kinda lonely being the major Prosecutor Ito fangirl. But oh well. That's kinda my curse. (?

(I hope I can get braces... When my friend took some photos, I felt self-conscious about my two weirdly-located frontal teeth. Well. Gotta save money. ;w;)

[thistransient]

I was blissfully unaware, until my teacher informed me recently, that a) I had made a name for myself at the song competition last semester, and b) because no one remembered my actual name apparently they've been using the song title to refer to me instead. I was a little incredulous but sure enough I turned up for a meeting today and one guy went "差不多先生!" On one hand, fame! (notoriety?) On the other hand, it translates to something like "Mr. Mediocre" (well, better than putting on airs, huh). The meeting was to discuss our drafts for the upcoming speech competition. I was extremely impressed at the lower level students who are willing to brave public speaking despite their shortcomings, I could never. (I asked the coordinator who will shepherd us at the event if anyone from our school had ever won it, she said no and I was somehow unsurprised.) I am also annoyed there is only one week left for memorising now, but I'll do it, I'll do it. There are quite a few prizes, if I manage to win anything at all I'll be very pleased already (there are 70 participant slots but it remains to be seen if scores are weighted more towards pronunciation or passionate performance... apparently props and costumes are allowed and frankly I'm inclined towards neither).

I had a somewhat monastic weekend (no Pride Parade, no language exchange) as I tried to banish my ongoing migraine, mired in an accompanying unpleasant depressive mood swing. At least vaguely cognizant that there would be an end in sight if I did something besides lay morosely in bed watching anime, I dragged myself dutifully to and fro on walks in the park and for brunch at a new place (Taiwan loves variations on the breakfast sandwich, no I was not brave enough for peanut butter + bacon + scrambled egg), all the while fantasizing about how it would be to do these things with the friend I left back in Florida. Then it dawned on me that the void in my social life these days can be filled by neither house party nor language exchange nor Thursday-night Saizeriya with the Canadian bff, no, I'm missing someone to explore with. (I have tried to take my language exchange guy exploring and he's expressed his wholehearted disinterest in such things.) I need someone to go look at (or eat) new stuff with and slowly wander around (with no pressure to make titillating bilingual conversation for 5 hours straight), just have a real good gander at our unfamiliar surrounds and occasionally say something like "Hey look at that", the appropriate response being "Oh yup, that there is definitely an item".

I contemplated how to find a suitable candidate. Ah. Yes. Clearly I should go light some incense at a temple and appeal to the gods. But which one? There are two fairly equidistant from my house. The slightly closer one? Nearer to the breakfast restaurants? Sounds auspicious, right? I decided to read the temple google reviews and do some research. Oh. I see...The closer little one is apparently a temple for angry ghosts. 

[ranger-kellyn]

it's not exactly easy to sit here and type this up after two bad mental health days, but i'm doing my yearly tradition of sitting in lilsimsie's stream until it's midnight on the east coast, and have about ~40 minutes before this edible kicks in and well. better get writing lmao

looking back in my 2022 journal, i think it's fairly safe to say that the start of the year is always rough on me, mentally. we're officially in winter, and the seasonal affective disorder is in full swing, so like. i KNOW what's wrong. it happens every year. doesn't stop the low from kicking me in the gut, though

2022 has been a rough year. my job responsibilities have been picking up, we've been traveling more, and it's only looking to increase even further as i continue. and sure, that's the typical progression of a job regardless, it still stinks at times. the only thing that makes it manageable is the fact that i genuinely do like all my coworkers. it's always a good time when we go out for dinner and drinks when we're on travel, and the holiday party i went to the other week was a blast.

but 2022 has also been a bit of a...i can't think of the word. reckoning? the realization that like. (and DONT fucking come for me i KNOW i'm still very young but hang with me here) i'm aging.

and with aging comes different health concerns and whatnot. as much as i have the bad tendency to overshare on the internet, there's plenty i haven't really talked about, and i'm at a point where i really need to like. take control. before things get worse. two (or more honestly) health problems i've had this year are directly related to me having such a sedentary lifestyle. if i don't take control and start holding myself accountable to getting up and being more active, things are going to start getting bad.

i've already been trying to get up and do more stretches throughout my day when i can. it was also part of the "deal" i made with myself for allowing me to have my tv up in my bedroom. if i wanted to keep it up here, i have to do at least a few minutes of stretches each day, and so far it's never felt like a punishment, so hopefully i'll be able to hold myself accountable.

i'm also working on eating better. my aunt got me this super fancy rice maker for christmas, and it makes really good steel cut oats as well. there's not much i can eat in the morning without getting horribly nauseous, but oats seem to be the exception so. that's been nice to have! my first baby step goal with eating is to just. eat. 3 meals a day. they don't have to be huge elaborate meals, but at least something. from there, i can start worrying a little more about content. my other first goal is to try to ease off on the soda bc i KNOW i drink way too much. the last time i was able to cut it out was when i started by just. drinking a glass of water before i allowed myself to have the soda, so that's my plan for now.

also. cut back on the weed bc like...being high practically every weekend just so i can disassociate it away. is uh. Not Healthy, but clearly i'm not starting that one tonight dskflhk

BUT. enough about the negatives--

there were positives in the year, too. i moved to a bigger apartment. i got to travel to new places. i took my bestie to my cousins wedding and had a great time. i got to spend time with my friends. i went to a pride event at the science museum, and went to the My Brother My Brother and Me live show. i was fortunate enough to get tickets to see taylor this next year, nashville and two nights in seattle!

i also got a TON of writing done. i didn't finish my goal of finishing any of the three ongoing fics, but i DID get a lot of good writing done. after a multi-year hiatus, i was able to update Getaway Car with a new chapter before Midnights was released, and with only three chapters left to go, the end is within sight.

i've also done a ton of writing on countless other stories. i'm hoping i can carry this energy into the new year, and actually finish one of my fics in 2023 lmao

i'm also really hoping i can get back into drawing.

but anyways.

here's to hoping 2023 is a good one

[springvaletales]

Modern AU Thoughts in no particular order bc I've been doing a lot of snippet writing in this setting lately but I haven't posted about it much, GO!:

Due to a complicated series accidents, lucky breaks and what were probably a few assassinations, Almaea ends up being the only surviving heir of Vekrom Duet, her estranged biological father and reclusive owner of Duet Technologies Inc., a massively profitable company that sold and produced high quality security systems.

Almaea never met her father, and only discovered his identity when she was tracked down by his lawyers for the purposes of executing his last will and testament. She is actually pretty bitter that he knew of her existence and those of her children but still chose not to approach them.

The Duet family is distantly related to royalty, but the local government has long moved away from monarchy, so it’s little more than an interesting family fact.

Despite Kemat, Maji, and Vashael all being adults, they still live at home with their parents. The Duet family estate is big enough for all five members of the family and then some, and they don’t see the point in moving out when they’re all pretty comfortable where they are.

Almaea and Manon-Val are often away on company business, but make a point to FaceTime their children at least once a night, if possible.

Maji was secretly dating Neragh, a former employee and security guard of Duet Tech Inc., and went public with their relationship after he lost his leg from the knee down and she paid for his prosthetic. They are engaged but have no wedding date set.

Kemat is aromantic/asexual, and is a regular face at the city’s pride events, only missing one year when he punched an off-duty police officer over ‘fighting words’ and spent the weekend in prison.

Vashael graduated college with decent grades but then went on to start a band with his college friends. They’re pretty good, and have a few albums out on the popular streaming apps, but they’re mostly unknown outside of their tri-city area

Michael makes a damn good cinnamon latte that Haaruma - notorious hater of lines and self-proclaimed ‘impatient bitch’ - will queue an hour for.

Michael had a crush on Vashael first after discovering their band’s music, but befriended Haaruma before he ever got to talk to Vashael face to face.

Naoka and Haaruma are still married but it’s a secret to everybody because Naoka’s parents are massively homophobic.

Haaruma has living family in this AU, but she’s no-contact with both of her parents for various reasons. She does still talk to her half-brother Isstun, though.

Bashur (the band’s Minotaur drummer) has his silhouette incorporated into all of the band’s album covers because he’s the most recognizable figure out of all the members.

Michael has a beautiful singing voice, but absolutely debilitating stage fright when the crowd is anything bigger than five or six people. Haaruma and Vashael both dream of one day helping him get over this fear so he can join the band (though their motivations are quite different).

Magic does exist in this setting, but due to past historical events, much of the knowledge of it has been lost. Some scientists and scholars dedicate their careers to researching and trying to revive this knowledge. Ex: Chad Ziel (the lich who isn’t quite so crazy (yet) in this AU), a rising star in the arcane academia scene for his work in understanding ancient curses.

Velenna was once the leading arcane scholar in Chad's field before she retired to live a 'less hectic' lifestyle, and now works with the local authorities of Springvale and surrounding cities as a cursebreaker. She and Chad have no connection in this AU beyond working in the same field of study.

Velenna did not raise Almaea in this AU, but acted as her mentor figure in college, and remains a close friend of the Duet family.

This AU is my ‘slice of life but with smartphones’ setting. The world building is still ongoing, and we’re just here to have fun when the more medieval base DnD setting won’t quite cut it.

[mymemoirs]

May and June 2023: Busiest Weekend

May Breakdown

I have gone through half of May and it has been a few days since my birthday. This has been a busy month for me, both this month and next month.

As much as it was exciting to have something important going on, I think I grew tired of the constant meetings that I started to think I don't really have much time for myself. My waking hours has been set on the upcoming events or activities. I debated with my fellow members and I'm tired of it. I think my perfectionism started to creep in me and people from my organization bombarded with questions regarding the progress of those events and activities.

Waking up one day, I questioned myself, "Am I pushing myself too hard?"

On 15th May, I tried going through Monday as usual, with a tinge of Monday Blues. I cried silently midway working when all my colleagues are here, gasping for air now and then. Thinking I was unwell physically, one of my senior chatted "Are You Okay?"

I was trying to keep it in when she skyped me, briefly checking my WhatsApp, I saw someone @ me and that's the last straw. I breakdown at work.

It's embarrassing to be ugly crying and showing my weak side. What's worst is to do it in your workplace and it's not even related to my job. I'm just tired and overwhelmed by the amount of events or activities I have.

My supervisor even stand up and asked me what's going on and I could barely speak, I was gasping for air crying. She eventually ask me to drink some water and calm down, and when I did, she ask me what's wrong and if I needed to take a leave that day.

I refused and said that it has nothing to do with work and I was just overwhelm that I have a lot of activities. Which by the way, doesn't make me look good because it shows that my outside-of-work activities have at some point got too stressful for me.

So my supervisor let me be, I would still have the urge to cry but I still managed to get some work done. Whenever I tried to talking to someone about that I always almost wanted to cry. Until, I went home and have a dialogue with my dad, I actually felt better. Even though, my dad is known to be so judging whenever I cried, he tried to listened to my end and actually gave me motivation to do what I'm doing.

The Aftermath

I know that this upcoming weeks will be quite busy for me, I have expectations towards the activities and events we're going to hold. But at some point I realized I don't have control over everything and trying to be in control causes everyone to seek me out and it could be tiring at times.

Whenever I told my friends or close friends who aren't part of this movement that I was overwhelm or burn out, most of them would tell me to stop doing it and if it really brings me happiness? I've been hearing those for a couple of times and for all those times I heard them, I would have this mix feelings.

They don't understand.

Of course it's my fault in the first place to divulge this to people outside the movement. So mostly all the reasons they mentioned to me: if this brings me happiness? Work is more important, etc doesn't seem to resonate with me.

Even if I couldn't feel happy because I was overwhelmed, this reminds me of the time I was in college taking care of the Buddhist community. At some point there was a sense of pride and joy that I couldn't described nearing the end of my leadership period. It's tiring, yes. At times, unappreciative by people around us or even members. But I was happy that I could end it in a good note and I could give what little impact I have to everyone.

This was more or less the same, the difference was this movement I'm in are part of my practice. My practice will stay with me as long as I live and maybe even beyond, but it's not the same with work. Although I know, I can still support this movement without having to take up leadership position but I have this vow I made to myself that I would try my best while I'm in this city.

Maybe the reason I always feel uneasy after hearing my friends' feedback was because this was a promise I made to myself. While at the same time, my internal clock is basically screaming for me to keep the other end of my promise which is pursuing a higher degree abroad and eventually moves out of this city.

I feel that the promise I made seems to cancel each other out but I know that it shouldn't be this way. My personal and community growth should go hand in hand.

---

This is a long overdue post and it's June now. There will be a lot of stories to share. For now, I decided to tackle one thing at a time and trust that my activities on the month June, will prepare me for something even greater and I'll achieve my own personal goal while striving for my community.

-Reina

[thea-dacity]

This is going in my secret blog because events need to unfold before I can say... anything.

Today is June 6. My little town is having a pride festival this weekend. I went to their last one and it was... small. But I want to support community pride where it happens. So when they opened up to vendors, I signed up. I thought the tent price was a bit high, but whatever, I'm supporting a cause.

I knew something was odd when they reduced the price last month and offered partial refunds.

Then they released the vendor list and it's almost ALL nonprofits.

I found out that one of my usual shows is happening literally a block away and since the show runner is always looking to collaborate with people, thought maybe there could be cross promotion. Most of the vendors are queer, I thought it would be a good fit.

So I messaged them both.

Usual show: "Thanks. Yeah, we had talked with them gor a few months about providing the vendors for them, but they just wanted our vendors list instead of us taking care of it. And we felt they were asking too much and weren't planning to compensate us at all. We then offered to cross promote and didn't get a response. So idk. I tried.."

Pride event: "That’s interesting to know. They actually refused to work with us. 

Thanks for letting me know, but since they wouldn’t collaborate with our organization, I can’t assume they’re queer friendly, even if they’re monetizing queer artists."

So... I've worked with Usual Show Guy a few times and hes a very good dude whose main concern is ALWAYS "are my peoples needs being met?" Is this show attended well? Are people having a good time? Is the weather impacting people's sales?

If a show gets rained out, he'll give you a free space at the next show. He wants to connect all the weirdos and queers together and he wants us to thrive.

Hes Just A Guy, ok?

I havent spent much time with the pride people because they're always meeting while I'm working. But... they're young. A lot of them are young. Like... just out of high school young.

And its possibly rude of me to say this, but I feel like they dont know the difference between negotiating a deal and performing a microaggression.

You know I'm always trying to see as many sides as I can, but if I was gonna pick I liar from the two of them, I'm gonna pick the pride people. Like the way they used The Tumblr Words at me makes me feel like they're being sensitive to something that isnt there.

Just... fascinating interpretation of events.

I'm still doing the pride thing because I paid the money to do it. But I dont have very high Hope's for the event. The facebook page only has 15 people 'going' and I'm 90% sure it's the vendors.

I have at least one bad show every season. Might as well be my first one.

[horanghater]

Croquembouche

Summary: It’s: wet the drys, then dry the wets! How are you and Taehyung not speaking the same language when food is universal? And which language do you need to speak for a passing grade on a partnered project? ▸ Pairing: Taehyung x F!reader ▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / smut, humor, microscopic angst, E2L / culinaryschool!au ▸ Warnings: sitophilia (food fetish, sploshing), anal (m!receiving just a lil), oral (m!receiving) unprotected sex, rimming (also a lil, f!receiving), fingering, creampie ▸ Word Count: 6.1k ▸ A/N: It’s here at long last! Part of the @btshoneyhive college enemies 101 event! This concept went from a stupid joke in my brain to well....see below. MASSIVE thank you to Beezy for being my beta here! I was deliriously sleepy writing parts of this and boy did the draft show it. I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think (#wankandtell). :)

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Growing up as a butcher’s only daughter meant evenings, holidays, and summers working with him behind the meat counter. When you get older, it also means weekends learning the craft itself. It doesn’t take long at all for you to cross the threshold between competent and talented with a knife – you’re a natural, your father says. Butchering is hard, yet ou always find yourself back in the kitchen in your free time: chopping, clipping, cooking – every day for years. Your imagination only grows with your skills and you go from following recipes to making your own. Maybe you aren’t a prodigy, but you’re damn good for your age. So when the time finally comes to explore the world’s offerings after high school, you apply for your city’s most competitive 3-year culinary program (to no one’s surprise).

It’s a surprise to everyone in your cohort that you’re actually accepted. Experience means everything at your school and you’re one of the rare attendees with none. Absolutely no one is enthused to make your acquaintance after learning that your experience is “just with meat” (not your words) and you’ve never cooked on the line in a commercial or professional kitchen. The way your classmates ice you out stings, but not enough to deter you from continuing on. You’ll have plenty of time to make friends in the culinary world later, you figure. For now, you’re content with being somewhat of a loner on campus.

If you’re at the bottom of your class totem pole, then Taehyung Kim is at the top. The son of a successful restaurateur and food critic power couple, he’s had access to some of the greatest kitchens in the world by way of money and networking. Looking at his pedigree alone, it’s easy to assume he’s here purely due to nepotism. However, just a few short weeks into the curriculum, he establishes himself as a serious and formidable force in the kitchen. Taehyung’s got a sharp palette and an even sharper eye for detail that makes every dish he creates near-perfect. His talent, background, and looks (wow) swiftly earn him the reputation of being the crowned prince of your program.

You and Taehyung are both aware of each other, but your worlds couldn’t be further apart. At least, that’s what you think until halfway through your first semester. One day, your class is tasked with deboning and fileting an absolutely massive fish. The room is quiet when your professor begins their stopwatch, everyone focused on running their knives through each layer of the animal carefully. You’re the first to finish at about 7 minutes in and your teacher lays loud compliments on your work as if they’ve just seen a convincing magic act. 

Content with just getting through without making any mistakes, you quietly thank them and wait at your station, glancing at your peers’ progress passively. It’s then that you and Taehyung lock eyes. He’s bent awkwardly over his block, clearly to find the perfect angle before he glides his knife under the skin. Instead of focusing on that, though, he’s looking at you with – intrigue? Pride, maybe? It’s a brief moment that feels like forever to you before he snaps back to the task at hand and becomes the second person to complete the assignment.

The class ends an hour later without anything particularly interesting happening. It’s what happens after that’s noteworthy: Taehyung asks you out on a date. You say yes.

That weekend, the two of you go out to eat. Despite the air of prestige that shrouds Taehyung, he takes you to a local, moderately priced restaurant. Though the establishment lacks extravagance, it does have an 8 page menu to make up for it. You take the sheer amount of options as a warning of poor quality (better to be very good at a few things than mediocre at many things), but Taehyung insists that every option here is good, clarifying that he’s been eating here nearly daily for weeks.

With that in mind, you don’t really give much thought to the fact that he’s decided on his own meal after just a minute or so, while you need a solid ten just go review everything on the menu. Once you place your orders, the two of you converse easily. You swap stories and find that Taehyung isn’t just “into food” – he cares deeply about how ingredients are sourced and combined. So much so that he’d considered becoming a food scientist rather than a chef. In turn, he learns that you’re not just “that girl with no kitchen knowledge”, but someone who was raised to have a deep respect for food in all its forms. Butchering isn’t just about knife work. It’s about knowing where each animal comes from and how each part of them can be transformed so that nothing is wasted. Taehyung admires your passion, tells you it’s just as beautiful as your eyes. It’s a tired line, but you’re willing to overlook the offense in favor of enjoying the eye candy and a free meal.

Taehyung is such a charmer that you have to imagine punching him in the dick to keep your mind from wandering to the much more scandalous idea of blowing him under the table. Luckily (?) for you, your food arrives and gives you something new to talk about. Taehyung “kept it simple” today: he ordered steak and fries. When the server places his plate down, however, the man across from you scowls. 

“What is this?” he spits. “I didn’t ask for this.” He’s been served the steak with corn instead and seems….angry? Disproportionately so. Rather than waiting for an apology or explanation, he places the plate back into the server’s hands as if it’s covered in shit. “I asked for french fries. Do it again.”

The server apologizes anyway and heads back to the kitchen, muttering what sounds a lot like “prick” under their breath. 

You chuckle uncomfortably at the change in atmosphere. “Chef back there must be having a day, huh?” 

Taehyung’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he speaks as if he’s actively reminding himself not to blow a gasket. “I just really don’t like corn.”

“Really?” This, you find genuinely surprising. “Why? I’d assumed–”

“It’s gross,” he seethes. “Looks like rotten baby teeth.”

The next image your mind conjures up – an infant with corn sprouting from their gums – is certifiable nightmare fuel. At the moment, though, you can’t help the snort that comes out. The more you think about the stupid comparison, the funnier it gets and you have to work to suppress your laughter into a conspicuous snicker. “What are you smoking?”

Taehyung looks wounded, but he dilutes it with a dash of fury in his voice when he growls, “It’s not fucking funny.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that he could actually be serious about this. You’ve seen Taehyung present plenty of dishes using the humble ingredient and he always tastes tests before serving. It’s never been a problem as far as you can tell. Regardless, the way he can inject venom into his typically easygoing tone is off-putting and you show it in your face as you try to work out how someone like Taehyung can be so...particular.

“Sorry,” he self corrects, finally sensing that he might be making you uncomfortable. “I just… Food has to be done right, y’know? You can’t just slap nonsense onto a plate and say ‘voila’. Especially when that nonsense is nasty in the first place.”

Didn’t he say everything at this restaurant was good?

You’re curious as to what other weird quirks Taehyung has about food, but drop it for now, lest you incite your date’s peculiar wrath. When your server returns, they bring his proper meal along with yours. Taehyung continues on as if the mistake never even happened and you willfully ignore the disgusted frown he shoots at the small piece of grilled onion that falls from your burger when you take a bite. 

When the date ends and you get back into Taehyung’s car to return home, he offers you a jellybean from his stash in the glove compartment. He’d forgone dessert at the eatery, citing that he was working on pastry recipes later at home anyway. A little snack before then couldn’t hurt, though. You pop a jellybean into your mouth when he proposes and immediately gag. Buttered popcorn flavor. You reach back into the stash for another handful of candy, hoping to overpower the taste. They’re all buttered popcorn. Taehyung is clearly displeased with your reaction and his orange flags are starting to tinge just a bit red, but when he parks in front of your house you still end up giving him a blowjob in the backseat. (“Nobody’s perfect” is how you rationalize it, but did this date highlight more of his faults or yours?) This isn’t usually your favorite activity, but despite this weird diet, Taehyung’s cum doesn’t taste like battery acid, and that could be considered a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You and Taehyung aren’t together, per se, but everyone can guess that there’s something physical between you two. Taehyung compliments your cooking publicly and favors your dishes over others’ during peer reviews. The man is always coincidentally finding his way into one of the kitchens’ walk-in freezers shortly after you go to retrieve additional portions. You’d never let him do anything too vulgar on campus – you’d never contaminate the food – but makeouts and dry-humping sessions were a regular practice. The attention inspires you to make even bolder decisions in the kitchen and it makes your professors love you almost as much as Taehyung. 

Outside of class, you two spend the majority of your free time studying and eating. Or, more accurately, you eat and he delights/disturbs you with yet another bizarre food take (such as, “lobster is nasty because it’s just sea spider innards”) before angrily scarfing down what is typically the nutritional equivalent of a kid cuisine meal. 

In a way, it’s kind of cute. Taehyung can write a dissertation about all the ways to utilize mushrooms in cooking but can’t stand to eat them himself because he’s deemed them to be “earth tumors”. When he’s in front of a room full of chefs, he’s put-together, elegant. Willing to try anything in the pursuit of culinary genius. Then, when it’s time for a study session, he falls apart at the idea of eating soggy cereal. Sure, he gets testy even when you ask the tiniest questions without judgment, but it could be worse. In the grand scheme of things, Taehyung’s double-life between professional kitchens and his own is inconsequential.

Taehyung is supportive, brilliant, and after learning to sidestep certain conversations, effortlessly entertaining. By the end of your first year of schooling, you think you may be on the edge of being in love with him.

He makes sure it doesn’t progress beyond that.

With how close you’ve gotten, it’s not uncommon for you to drop by Taehyung’s condo unannounced. His parents purchased it for him but are never there. One summer night, the doorman of the building lets you in, recognizing you well at this point. When you get to his floor, you use the key under the doormat (“No one actually expects one to be there”, Taehyung assures) to let yourself inside. The foyer is vast, and the square footage is so large that he can’t hear the front door opening and closing behind you. Hurriedly, you kick off your shoes so you can sneak up on him. At this hour, you typically find Taehyung scribbling up recipe ideas in his notebook or sleeping on the couch while the tv watches him. 

You scurry down the gently lit hallway and peek around the corner, looking for his silhouette at the far end of the expansive living room. Instead, he’s much closer in the open kitchen that precedes it. He’s not cooking, not even standing up. You can only see the tips of his toes peeking out from behind the island in the center of the room. 

A low, drawn out groan floats to your ears as you creep forward, confused. What’s he doing? You tiptoe closer, and there’s more: a slow, uneven, pap pap pap that you can’t quite place. Taehyung’s hissing to himself incoherently beneath the noise, and it only perplexes you more.

Finally, you get just close enough to spy on him by craning your neck to see the floor on the other side of the island. Taehyung’s seated on folded knees, white frosting and crumbs smeared from his chest down to his groin. His hands fist into the sides of a battered yellow cake with his cock buried right into the center – or where the center should be. There’s barely any structure left to it; most of the confection has stuck to his length, squelching messily as he fucks into the sponge desperately. Having spent many nights beneath him already, you’re familiar with the pace he’s set; he only gets this frantic when he’s close to cumming. This still must not be enough, though, because he just drawls obscenities after a few more thrusts. 

You’re stand rooted in place, alarmed at why you can’t seem to look away from Taehyung’s sweaty form on the cool, wood flooring. When the cake has near nothing left to give, Taehyung slaps a handful of the wreckage into his mouth, teary eyes rolling back before fluttering shut. He hunches forward over his snack (?) and reaches a hand back to – oh my god – effortlessly work a bulbous, jewel-tipped plug in and out of his ass. His now-free hand reaches down to fist his swollen, sticky cock and pumps in almost rhythm with the plug. He doesn’t last long – a few hard tugs and a thumb across the tip of his cockhead has his voice up a full octave, gasping as his back goes ramrod straight through a long, hot orgasm.

It seems to go on forever, Taehyung’s entire body eventually rocking slowly as he empties himself onto what’s left of the cake that’s been pounded into the wood. When he’s truly finished, you let your lungs fill with oxygen you hadn’t noticed was missing as he slumps there, panting. Finally, when his breathing evens out, Taehyung opens his eyes, raising the fingers covered with cake and cum up to his mouth. The tip of his pink tongue darts out between funfetti and spit-covered lips to have a taste before they split into a satisfied, sinful grin.

You’re still wrapping your mind around what you witnessed, but the way you squeeze your legs together means your pussy is already interested in an encore. You must have made a sound because Taehyung suddenly snaps his gaze to you, wide-eyed with panic. He doesn’t give you a chance to ask questions or worse, criticize him. He hurriedly stands, hands feebly covering his spent cock while his face contorts with pained incensement. “Get out.” 

You stare back at him, dumbfounded and unsure what to do. Comfort him, maybe? But in classic Taehyung fashion, he snatches the opportunity to talk about it away when he raises his voice, making you flinch. There’s an undeniable tremble in his voice. “I said, get the fuck out!”

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You try texting and calling Taehyung in the days that follow, but by day 4, you’re certain he’s blocked your number. It takes every ounce of self-control not to just go see him at his home – ultimately you talk yourself out of it because if he hasn’t already changed the locks, he’ll certainly ream you if you walk in on him doing anything again.

Taehyung critiques you harshly now (though your professors always disagree) and receives your feedback icily. After your short break from school ends, he does his best to ignore you on campus. It’s nothing like the time before your first date; Taehyung simply looks through you, talks over you like you don’t even exist.

All you want is to talk to him and let him know that what you witnessed isn’t anything to be ashamed of. You want to tell him that you may, in fact, love him, kinks and all. 

Two months into the new semester, he’s fucked his way through nearly your entire cohort and it’s the last flag you need before realizing things are better this way. Clearly, he trusts you enough to keep his secret, but the camaraderie ends there.

Like all wounds, the sudden, unwanted shift in your dynamic gets more palatable over time. Eventually, you see Taehyung’s quirks for what they really are: character flaws. He’s petty, picky, and an insufferable prick. By the end of your second year of schooling, you’ve replaced your fond memories of him with an insatiable need to be better than him in every tangible way. There’s a chance you could have loved him once. Now? Defeating him where it matters most is much more enticing. ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Pork schnitzel?”

“No.”

“Smoked trout?”

“Ugh.”

“Beef wellington?”

“Too heavy.”

You slam your pen down onto the table next to your notebook as Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest, decidedly looking at everything in the student lounge except you. 

“You can’t shoot everything down if you don’t have any ideas of your own, Taehyung.”

“My idea was the croquembouche, idiot.”

“It’s a three course meal, jackass.”

For the last hour, the two of you have been trying to agree on a menu for your final team project of the semester. You and Taehyung are the top two students in your program by a staggering margin now. In theory, this should be fun – or at least, easy. Instead, you’re just bickering as usual. Taehyung’s infuriating list of dislikes (and his now pointed dislike of you) makes him the worst possible partner when you’re given creative freedom.

If you had to say just one nice thing about him these days, it’s that he really does know how to kiss ass when it counts. Your professors favor you both, but Taehyung still always manages to snatch the gold medal from your hands despite your best efforts. “This is delicious, chef!” “I’d love to help with prep, chef!” “I don’t mind plating that for you, chef!” Coming from anyone else, the blatant brown-nosing would be shot down. But there’s no denying that he’s a damn good cook and that talent alone appears to be enough to excuse his….everything else.

Only one person in your cohort would get a recommendation from the school’s dean at the end of the program and that person was looking more and more like Taehyung with each passing day. With you being a close second, it’s no surprise that your head chef decided you’d be pairing up. Neither of you had the courage to say anything about it when the assignments were announced  – nobody wants to look unprofessional  – but now that you’re out of earshot, Taehyung seems to have committed to making you scream out of pure frustration. 

In this moment, you’d give anything to have just one person with influence learn that Taehyung is a freak asshole with shitty food opinions. 

“What, you can’t handle two courses by yourself?” he sneers when he finally does look you in the eye.

“Sounds like you just can’t handle cooking like an executive chef,” you shoot back. “Is that why all you’ve done today is go on about dessert? Need me to hold your hand through service?”

“I don’t want your help with the dessert, actually. Have you ever even tasted a croquembouche?” 

The mockery in his tone sends your blood pressure skyrocketing. “Sorry, my rich mommy and daddy couldn’t send me to France for fun. At least I can put together a menu when I’m not dealing with an absolute child.” 

Taehyung is unfazed by your words. It’s obvious he’s not even listening, just waiting for you to stop talking so he can get another jab in. “Exactly my point. You have no idea how much work goes into making something that elegant. Stick to your strengths, butcheress.”

It’s the first time that Taehyung has ever said anything that targeted about your culinary background. His kindness toward you was long gone, but you’re surprised that he’d stoop to that type of commentary considering how intimately you once knew each other. 

Taehyung’s petulant expression slightly softens, perhaps in response to the crestfallen glower that settles over features. The urge to hit him where you know it hurts claws at your vocal chords, though you know better than to engage. You’ve long since learned to curtail conversations with the man and save him the trouble of conjuring up yet another hurtful remark.

You flip your notebook shut, flinging it and your pen into your bag before abruptly standing to leave. 

“Protein for the second course is skinned duck breast. I’m not asking. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow. Be here at 11.”

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You’d spent that night first venting to your father on the phone about your scholastic woes (sans dramatic backstory), then gathering your personal feelings and burying them beneath your desire just to be done with everything. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am, but you’d managed to outline the rest of your menu. Today, Taehyung would take what you had to offer and suck up his aversion to common decency.

Except when 11 am comes, Taehyung does not. You wait in the lounge for an hour and he still doesn’t show. That hour is exactly the amount of time your hurt needs to flambe into short-sighted indignation. 

Does he really not care about this project? He doesn’t even need the damn recommendation at the end of this, but is he really despicable enough to shit all over your chances for it? Is he fucking a goddamned cake again? He is, isn’t he!

Why call him when you can just break down his front door, confirm things yourself, and then beat him with a cast iron skillet? 

Perhaps it’s not the most diplomatic solution, but as you know all too well by now, Taehyung’s dick(ishness) brings out the worst in people.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Long time no see,” Taehyung’s doorman greets. His tone is marked with that signature customer service cheer, but he can tell by how you approach that you’re not in the greatest mood. Still, you nod quickly and return his courteous smile as he lets you into the building. 

When you step off the elevator on Taehyung’s floor, the same doormat is placed in front of his unit. It’s much worse for wear now, but it still hides the same key – really? – as it always has. You slot the key into the lock and finally pause. Is this ok?

Probably not, but you’re already here. The rage in your veins takes you again as a new wave of adrenaline washes over you and it’s the last push you need to turn the key in its lock. 

Your entrance isn’t subtle. You don’t even bother removing your shoes and march straight down the familiar corridor. The smell of something sickly sweet fills your nostrils and it goes from mild to nearly putrid as you round the corner. Taehyung has to be home, has to be in the kitchen, and you’ve been down this road before, yet the sight that you take in still stops you in your tracks.

“Taehyung!” You’re not sure if you’re talking more to him or yourself when you call his name because your mind is just trying to catch up with your eyes.

There’s a thick-bottomed pot on the 6-burner gas range smoking and Taehyung is standing between it and the island. He’s stark naked, tanned skin muddied with amber. It’s all over his chin, his chest, and dangerously close to the soft, black trim above his cock. You can see around the edges that his skin is tinged a deep red, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice with his hand furiously jacking his member. And there’s something on that too. It’s white, thick, but there’s so much of it. That can’t all be his cum? 

Just like last time, you’re transfixed. The way your agitation and horniness (why?) blend together is….concerning, but you don’t have time to even sort your feelings out. The smoke alarm shrieks and jostles you both bath to the present. It’s only then that Taehyung notices you and bellows almost as loud as the alarm itself. “Y/N, what the fuck!”

The noise reminds you that at least one of you needs to be responsible and you begrudgingly have to tear your eyes away from the hand that death grips the base of Taehyung’s dick. “No, Taeuhyung, you what the fuck!” You move to switch the stove dial off and move the pot to a cool burner. When you peek into the pot, the inside is charred, sides and bottom tarred with uneven bubbles on the surface. You turn to Taehyung, making it a point to only look him in the face this time. “You, what the fuck!” you shout again incredulously. “What is this? What’s on you?”

“Fucking–” Taehyung licks his bottom lip thoughtfully, running his hand up his shaft once before holding the base again. As much as you can’t stand him, your gaze follows the movement like a magnet. He absolutely sees it too. Taehyung doesn’t seem ashamed like the last time you met like this, but you’re not sure how to place whatever this is either. Finally, he admits, “It’s caramel. Most of it’s caramel.”

Your voice comes out smaller than you intend it to. “Do I want to know what’s on the rest of you?”

Taehyung is so hard that his cock is jutting out and up in front of him, swollen tip leaking pre that dribbles long and slow to the floor like a thread of silk. “Do you?”

It’s embarrassing to have to pick you jaw up from the floor in front of him like this. You’re so obviously gobsmacked that there’s no way the man will ever let you live it down (assuming that neither of you manages to kill each other before the end of today). Still, you try to keep your grasp on the sliver of pride that brought you here. “We were supposed to meet at 11.”

This appears to surprise Taehyung genuinely and he gasps, seeing that the digital clock on his microwave reads 1:02. “Shit– Sorry I– I was testing a batch for the croquembouche and lost track of time.”

“You don’t say?” You roll your eyes, gesticulating vaguely at the disaster he made in his own home.

The air in the room is different. Familiar? Casual? Of course, there’s tension, but not the kind that’s painted your interactions for the last year and a half. Judging by the way Taehyung’s other hand rises to his chest to smear caramel and white over his nipple, he must be feeling it too. “Do you,” he ventures, eyes scanning your face, “want to help me finish testing? It’s pate a choux batter.”

“On your dick?”

“Could be in your mouth, if you want.” There’s the Taehyung that got you in this mess in the first place. “If you’re ok with it. The caramel’s now so hot anymore either.” He leans to a bowl on the counter and reaches in, coming back out with a finger caked in caramel that’s clearly hardening.

Taehyung pops the digit into his mouth, the other hand slowly working his member again as he waits for the response that he already knows is coming. The morsel of resolve you have left dissolves right then and there. At some point, you’ll have to talk about this. About Taehyung’s startling propensity to toxicity and your newly discovered fetish. And the menu, of course. 

All of that is pushed to the back of your mind as your body moves on its own. You close the distance between you and Taehyung wordlessly, sinking to the floor in front of him. Your knees are wet with batter and caramel sauce and you can already feel the residue gluing you to the wood beneath you. The warmth of Taehyung’s hands hovers near your head as your hands wrap around the backs of his thighs to bring him closer. When you look up at him through heavy eyelids, he groans, already wrecked.

“I don’t wanna– Your hair. My hands are sticky,” he explains, settling for awkwardly placing them on his hips instead.

“Then don’t touch my hair,” is all you say matter-of-factly before taking his cock into your mouth. Taehyung’s even thicker than you remember. Taehyung thrusts shallowly into your mouth with a long, low moan, his hands still on his hips. You meet him halfway and it only takes a few thrusts before you’re gurgling around him, saliva and batter running down your chin. You know your jaw will ache sooner rather than later from this, but the sweet taste of batter and his precum mixing on your tongue is worth the punishment.

Taehyung is incredible like this, sickly sweet in your mouth and desperate above you. You crave the satisfaction of finishing him off, but it’s not long before he stops you by stepping back, sticky feet crackling as he moves. “Shit, not yet. Turn around. Let me show you something.” 

“What is it?” you rise, wiping your mouth on your sleeve and the way Taehyung watches you breathlessly reminds you just how wet you are from all of this. You turn toward the island anyway and feel him stand behind you, hands reaching around so he can hook his thumb into your waistband and tugging.

“Off,” he says. You comply, but still, Taehyung asks, “Do you trust me?”

You lean further onto the island to push your ass into him, impatient. “I'm here, aren’t I?”

“Fine, fine.” Taehyung’s warmth only leaves you for a moment before it returns. A large hand grips one of your exposed cheeks, squeezing appreciatively. He warns, “Last chance,” but doesn’t actually wait for you to respond. Instead, you feel cool, gooey batter drizzling onto you.

The sensation is so foreign, but you don’t hate it. Taehyung holds the bowl above you, pouring all of its contents onto you. You feel it spreading over the swell of your ass and down your legs. Some of it even falls into your crack, though Taehyung is quick to remedy that. The bowl clangs on the counter as he sets it down haphazardly and then he spreads you where you stand. His tongue is hot as it runs up your perineum and up to the puckered ring of muscle. Combined with the batter, it’s all so wet and the change in temperature makes you whimper.

Taehyung is in his element, tongue laving your hole hungrily until there’s no batter left. By the time he’s finished, you’re gripping the edge of the counter so hard that your fingers hurt. “T-Tae–” you start when he pulls away. But you can’t finish your sentence. He cups your pussy roughly, gathering your arousal in his palm as you feebly rock against him for friction. There’s the start of 2 fingers entering you up to the first knuckle, but then he changes his mind and adds a 3rd. Taehyung only has to plunge his fingers in a few times before heat rises in your stomach, but it’s not enough and feels like an eternity to you. As quickly as his touch comes, it leaves. You want to complain; he’s dragging this out too long. Taehyung is either a mind-reader or just merciful, though, because without warning or fuss, he slides into the velvet of your pussy. It’s so much better than the first time you’d fucked on his couch so long ago. This time, Taehyung doesn’t allow you the courtesy of adjusting. You don't seem to need it, though. When he plants his feet and jackhammers into you, you just try (and fail) to match his pace. 

Taehyung is barely taking in enough air to pant, yet somehow conjures enough oxygen for speech. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this,” he confesses, kneading your ass broadly as his fingers slip through the batter. “Needed this.”

“Maybe if you – ah – didn’t kick me out when I - s-shit, Taehyung!” He doesn’t stop thrusting as he forces you further onto the counter and into a delicious arch so he can pierce you so deeply that you see a deity.

“When you saw me fucking that cake?” Taehyung slows his pace so he can swivel his hips when his pelvis meets the fat of your ass. “Shit, Y/N, you’re strangling my dick.”

You keen when he comes to a complete stop. “Just fuck me!”

The man’s not one to make a lady ask twice and he thankfully starts moving again, starting slowly at first before working his way back up to a punishing speed. “What was I supposed to say, babe?”

If your eyes weren’t already threatening to roll to the back of your head, you’d glare at him. “You were supposed to do what we’re doing now,” is what you try to say. It just sounds garbled and stupid while Taehyung clutches both of your ass cheeks hard enough to bruise as he works his length into you.

Taehyung doesn’t press his question, too busy chasing the ecstasy in the center of your heat. “W-Where?” is all he asks.

Just as you open your mouth to answer, Taehyung’s now-slippery fingers reach to rub at your clit. Your answer comes out so high-pitched that it doesn’t even sound like you anymore. “Inside, fuck! Please!” You tumble over the cliff of pleasure immediately after, knees threatening to give out as your muscles tense, hold, release.

Taehyung’s hands cinch around your waist, pulling you into him as his final thrusts pummel your abused pussy. Then, he stills. You stay like that for a good while as he injects his load into you, muttering a barely coherent mix of “sorry”s and “I love you”s into the air. 

When he does pull out, it’s with an obscene squelch. His cum is overflowing and trickles past your lips and down your legs almost immediately. Your knees finally do riot and Taehyung catches you just in time as you sink to the floor. As you come down from your high, you grimace. There’s cooling cum and batter and leftover caramel mixed under you as you sit bonelessly on the floor, back sticky as Taehyung’s chest envelopes you from behind. He seems to revel in it, happy to rest his chin on your shoulder. You sit in comfortable silence as your senses return until Taehyung decides to break it.

“Thank you.”

You attempt to turn and look at him, but now your bodies are uncomfortably joined by hardened caramel. You settle for interlocking your fingers with his on your thigh. “Why?”

Taehyung pauses thoughtfully. “For...accepting this. Accepting me. Forgiving me, maybe?”

“Hah!” you scoff wryly. “I can accept this. But forgive you? For all the shit you’ve put me through?”

“Fair. I’ve had some bad experiences – not an excuse, I know! I just panicked. I’m sorry. I missed you every day and I suck and I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand in his.

It will take a much longer conversation to settle things and figure out where you two can go from here. An apology, you suppose, is a start, at least.”Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” Taehyung assures. 

“All this shit with you not liking every food ever. Is that real?”

“Hm… Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” You begin tallying every bad food opinion Taehyung has in your head, trying to calculate how many days of grief you’ll give him for all of the hassle he’s put you through.

Taehyung chuckles behind you nervously and kisses your shoulder. “If it’s something I’ve fucked or plan to fuck, I don’t want to eat it for fun. It’s not fair.”

“Not fair? To whom?”

“To the food! I cook it for art. Otherwise, it’s strictly for pleasure.”

“So you just say all this crazy nonsense because–”

“Was I supposed to tell you I like to stick my dick in succotash on the first date?”

You sigh deeply, realizing that Taehyung’s selective lack of critical thinking is 100% genuine. “There are infinitely better ways for you to navigate that conversation.”

“I wasn’t lying about corned beef, though. It really does smell like cat food and I really do hate it.”

“You ruin every-fucking-thing, Tae.”

You and your syrupy companion laugh and it feels like your relationship is already on the mend. It feels like coming home. Healing.

“Oh, by the way,” Taehyung remembers, “did you wanna finish that menu? It’s due in, like, two days.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You and Taehyung end up going another 2 rounds with a fresh batch of slightly cooled caramel before you actually get to work on finalizing the menu. Miraculously, it does ultimately earn you the top marks and dean’s recommendation post-graduation. What you’re less prepared for is the revenge that Taehyung exacts on you afterward. It does indeed involve another cake.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵　　‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N²: Alternate title: Lost in the Sauce 😏 Taglist: @my-calico-cat​ @theestrangeddreamer​ @lavienjin​

[tootiredmotel]

a different lover is not a sin

or: 5 times Dean didn't go to Pride + 1 time he did

Happy @starrynightdeancas gift exchange posting day!!! This one's for the wonderful and talented @andzia267 !!! Sending you all the hugs and good vibes, and I hope you enjoy it! And thank you Sophie for hosting all this, you're a rock star! <3

Read on ao3 or below / 5.5k words

CW: homophobia, queer used as a slur, john winchester being an asshole

1 - 1994

Dean was fifteen years old when he found out that being gay was something people could be proud of. It was early in the morning, they'd left their motel about 20 minutes before, and Sammy had fallen asleep in the backseat. The sun was just starting to completely show over the horizon, and they were driving through– or rather, struggling to get out of– Phoenix on their way to a possible poltergeist in Tucson. Every street they tried to take was blocked for the big event, and dozens of people already lined the sidewalks with colorful outfits and signs.

"Fuckin' queers," John grumbled in the seat next to him. "Never should'a thrown that damn brick."

Big banners overhead displayed "Stonewall 25: A Global Celebration of Pride". Dean made a mental note to hit up a library once they got to Tucson to look that up, "Stonewall". In the meantime, he was mesmerized staring out the window. Guys held hands, women kissed, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. A black man in heels and a wig caught his gaze through the window and waved. Dean started to wave back, but his hand was harshly swatted back down.

"Do not," John said. "Don’t talk to them, don’t even look at ‘em. These people are sick in the head."

Dean focused his gaze on his lap until they were out of the city, and his mind wandered back to the gas station they stopped at the day before. He thought of the guy at the cash register that called him "cutie" and winked at him as he bought a candy bar for Sammy and beers for Dad with his fake ID. By Dad’s logic– which Dean trusted, of course–, that cashier, that queer, must've been sick in the head.

Then Dean remembered how his heart sped up, how his ears got hot, and how for a second he let himself think the cashier was kinda cute too. He realized he must also be sick in the head, and the thought was making him feel actually, physically sick. He felt like throwing up. Dad could never know.

Dean was fifteen years old when he learned that being gay actually wasn't something to be proud of.

---

2 - 2000

Dean was 21 years old when he learned the word “bisexual”. Dad had caught word of a ghoul case in lower Manhattan and sent Dean to take care of it. It was starting to get too hot and the streets were too crowded, but Dean was mostly glad to get a break from the constant fighting between Dad and Sammy.

Except it was June, and every time he turned a corner, there they were. The Pride parade flyers.

The second he spotted a rainbow he averted his gaze. He turned another corner and spotted another one. He avoided reading them at all costs. He heard Dad’s voice. Sick. Sick in the head.

For years now Dean had pretended he wasn’t sick. He pretended to not stare at Patrick Swayze too much whenever Dirty Dancing played on TV. He pretended like he didn't imagine what it would be like to kiss a guy, what stubble would feel like against his lips if he ever did.

He liked women. He could stick to women. He could live his whole life like that. And that meant he wasn’t totally sick, right? He wasn’t gay -gay if he liked girls.

But then what the hell was he? Would he even belong at one of these Pride things if he wanted to? He was probably a freak of nature. Even sicker than the rest of the bunch.

Curiosity got the best of him. He spared a glance at one of the flyers as he waited to cross the street.

Gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transexuals, ALL WELCOME

“Are you gonna go?” A voice next to him asked. ”It’s next weekend.” He was blond, pale, and a bit shorter than Dean.

“What? No! I don't swing that way,” Dean said, a bit too quickly and with too much bite.

The guy looked him up and down with a frown. “Geez, alright. Just askin’.”

He started to walk away, and Dean spoke up before he could stop himself.

“Hey man, wait.”

The guy stopped walking.

“Sorry, can I ask you something? Assuming you... know about this stuff?”

He seemed exasperated, but he turned anyway, willing to hear Dean out. Dean licked his lips, rubbed at the back of his neck, swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, asking a stranger on the street about something so personal. At least the chances of meeting this person ever again were close to none.

“What’s bisexual?”

The guy’s features softened a bit. He seemed to understand something about Dean that so far Dean refused to acknowledge.

“It means you’re into more than one gender. And yes, you can do that,” the guy said. He flashed Dean a tight smile and then disappeared into the crowd.

Dean felt his hands go numb and balled them into fists, shoving them in his pockets. He took a deep breath through his nose. The guy said you. You are. You can.

The guy didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about Dean. He was wrong.

Or maybe he was right.

But he couldn’t be.

Dean couldn’t be… that.

Dean was 21 years old when he decided he wasn’t bisexual. He wasn’t anything. He was also 21 when he solved a case in record time (two days), just so he could book it out of New York before the next weekend arrived.

---

3 - 2004

By the time he was 25 years old, Dean knew he was bi. He hated it, he never spoke about it, and he ignored it as much as he could, but he was aware of it. And he knew he was bi because, at 25 years old, he’d already gone through two serious breakups, and they both equally sucked.

The first was Lee. He hunted with Dean and John for about a year, the second half of which Dean and Lee spent sneaking around and hooking up behind John’s back. It was fun, and hot, and exciting, and some of the best hookups he’d had up until that point in his life were with Lee.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just hooking up. They were close, and Dean liked him. A lot. They kissed for the first time after a particularly scary werewolf hunt in which Dean almost died, but John was more preoccupied with the mostly-unharmed victim than his own son. Dean and Lee rode in the backseat, bruised, bloody, and quiet. When John went to walk the victim up to her apartment, Lee reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s back, asking him if he was okay. Dean fell into Lee’s arms, and they kissed as they pulled away from the embrace, soft and comforting. It was Dean’s first kiss with a guy.

Lee was a lot of firsts for Dean over the next few months. But then John almost caught them once, drunk and making out in the Impala.

And then that case in Arizona went wrong, and Lee just couldn’t take it anymore. He packed up, swore off hunting, hugged Dean goodbye, and left him in the dust.

Dean needed to clear his head after that. He could barely look his dad in the eye after that close call, couldn't let him see the sorrow he was feeling. With every interaction, he imagined how John would yell at him, probably try to beat it out of him, if he noticed all he was feeling over Lee. Or worse, John could ignore him, practically disown him like he did Sam.

So he also packed up and left. Went hunting on his own for a while.

It was on one of those hunts that he met Cassie, and she was yet another handful of firsts for Dean over the course of a few months. She was amazing, and he fell hard and fast, but of course that went up in flames too.

Then again, he should've known better than to be honest. Honesty only ever got him in trouble.

He’d just left her back in Ohio and was working at a bar in Indianapolis for a few weeks to make some cash. He’d eventually meet back up with Dad. He just couldn’t right now. Not with Sam gone to college. Not after getting his heart broken twice over within a year.

He was hyper-aware of the end of June approaching. He knew it was coming, Indy had a pretty big celebration, and he made sure to be working all day that day so he wouldn't have to face it.

That was pointless, though. Toward the end of the day, a big group of about ten or twelve people who were clearly coming from the parade stumbled into the bar. One of them was apparently the owner’s little sister and they went there every year after the celebrations. They were loud, and obnoxious, and looked incredibly happy. Their happiness was contagious, and Dean loved serving them. He chatted them up, got to know them a bit, and heard all about the parade, all while staring down anyone at the bar who dared look their way with even the slightest stink eye.

But watching them that happy and comfortable, seeing not one, but two pairs of guys sloppily leaning against each other and sharing the occasional kiss while none of their friends seemed to bat an eye… something in Dean ached. Deeply.

Dean was 25 years old when he realized that a small part of him kind of, sort of, wanted to be part of this community. He couldn’t though. Not if he wanted to be on good terms with Dad. Not if he aimed to be the man Dad wanted him to be.

He left Indianapolis the next day.

---

4 - 2008

Dean was 29 years old and on his own personal highway to hell when he learned his brother went to a Pride parade before he ever did. They were driving through San José, the streets were lined with ads for Silicon Valley Pride, and Sam just casually decided to mention how fun it was the last time he went.

Thankfully they were at a red light, or else Dean probably would’ve slammed the breaks. He twisted to look at Sam head-on, his arm on the back of the seat.

“You what ?” he gawked.

Sam shrugged innocently. “What?”

“You went to one of these Pride things?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Dean’s brain was just trying and failing to load. “Why?” he finally asked.

“Jessica was in the GSA and some friends invited us. It was awesome.”

“She was in the what?”

“The G. S. A.,” Sam answered slowly. “Gay-Straight Alliance.”

“Oh.” Whatever that is, Dean thought. He kept eyeing the flyers. It was tomorrow.

“Green.”

“What?”

“Light’s green. Green means go.”

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

He kept driving and turned up the radio. Somebody To Love was playing, and as much as he liked Queen, he had to change the station. He tried to picture his little brother (his straight little brother) wearing rainbow face paint and having the time of his life at this thing. How come Sammy got to go when Dean could barely entertain the idea? Dean was the not-straight one. It wasn’t fair.

He channeled his jealousy into gripping the steering wheel.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yeah, m’fine.”

Dean was 29 years old when he died and went to hell without ever having gone to a Pride parade, knowing that his idiot ( straight! ) little brother already had.

---

5 - 2014

Dean was alive again and 35 years old (75, if you count hell) when he was formally invited to a Pride parade for the first time. It was a couple of days after that whole mess with Cas in Lucifer’s crypt, and he called Charlie. He just wanted to hear her voice, needed to know he was still on good terms with at least one of his best friends.

“So anyway,” Charlie said after a while of recounting what she’d been up to. "How single are you right now? My answer is: miserably."

Dean chuckled. Then he thought of Cas, and the smile disappeared. "Yeah, you and me both, sister."

“Would you mind coming with me to this thing next month? Going alone kinda sucks.”

Dean put the phone on speaker and placed it on the library table as he sat down with a beer. “What’s the thing?”

“Pride.”

Dean was glad no one was around to see him almost choke on his drink.

“You good?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“Pride parade. Don’t have anyone to go with this year.”

“Why uh… Why? Why me?”

She knows.

“I dunno.”

She knows she knows she knows.

“You’re my friend, Dean. Thought maybe you might be interested. But never mind, I guess.”

And while all the alarms in Dean's head were blaring danger danger danger abort, he also hated to hear Charlie so disappointed.

“Hey, no, listen, Charlie, I… I would. Really. You know I support you, wholeheartedly." And that's obviously the only reason I would want to go. "But with Sam doing these trials, and Cas on the run with the angel tablet–”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it. Talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

And she hung up.

Dean knew, at this point, that there was nothing wrong with being queer. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, and it sure as hell didn’t mean you were wrong in the head or whatever.

But years of pretending to be a false version of yourself in an effort to please a man who was impossible to please wasn’t exactly an easy habit to break. As much as he wished it didn't, as much as he wished he could just exist, the thought of anyone finding out still made him sick to the stomach.

John’s voice still echoed in his ears. His words still drove Dean’s sense of self-worth and so many of his decisions. He tried to never stare at a good-looking guy for too long. He tried to not get too into it with Benny. He tried to keep his feelings for Cas at bay, tried to keep him at arm's length, tried to keep the fact that he was in love (deeply, stupidly in love) as close to his chest as he could.

Even that night at the crypt choking out the words to get through to Cas, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he meant. I love you, he’d wanted to say, because it was the truth. What came out, however, was I need you. And he did, he needed Cas more than air, but it wasn't quite everything.

It still got his heart split in two.

Was he so far gone over Cas that he couldn’t hide it? Had he been trying so hard and failing just as miserably this whole time? Was his attraction to dudes that obvious? Or did Charlie just have a sixth sense for this kinda thing?

It was probably the last one. He hoped it was.

Cas knew, for sure. Angels knew everything right? They could read minds, feel longing, or whatever. And if none of that ever tipped him off, well, Dean put it all on the line back in that crypt. He told Cas how he felt, told him he needed him, tried putting himself out there, and it got him left. Again. With Dean, it was always leave-or-get-left when it came to love. He was tired of it.

Dean was 35 years old, desperately in love with his best friend, and truly heartbroken for the third time in his life, when his other best friend– an out and proud lesbian– gave him a chance to go to Pride, to break through his shell, to finally embrace himself as he was; but because he was practically living in the closet, he couldn’t seem to find the handle after so many years of purposefully ignoring its existence, and he missed his chance. Besides, what was the point of going to a celebration of love without the love of his life by his side?

---

+1 - 2021

Dean is now 42 years old and the happiest he’s ever been. The love of his life? Cas? Turns out he’s felt the same way all along. They're kind of together now, and slowly but surely they’re working through a decade’s worth of shit.

They’ve been raising a kid together too, along with Sam and Eileen, and that kid is also God. After saving the world and whatnot, Jack decided to bring back some of their friends and family that died over the years: Mary, Kevin, Charlie. Yes, there are two Charlies now, but it’s not as confusing as you’d expect. (One is from another dimension, and the other one is Dean’s little sister. Simple.) Mary’s off hunting most of the time and Kevin’s applying to college.

They’ve got extended family now too, Jody and the girls. OG Charlie is staying with them for now, while she finds her footing. Most of that household is queer. Most of Dean's household is queer as well, actually. Turns out both Jack and Eileen are non-binary, Cas is gay in the broader sense of the word, and Dean…

Dean is bi. And everyone knows now.

Apparently, a lot of people had known for a long time. Sam has known since the siren back in ‘09 (even though Dean stands by the fact that it wasn’t like that, Sammy ), and everyone has slowly picked up on his and Cas’s thing over the years, so there’s that.

He still feels a bit weird about it. About calling Cas his boyfriend, about having the freedom to hold his hand in public, about the fact that they now have goddamn pride flags hung around the bunker. He feels even weirder about the fact that John’s voice in his head is now drowned out by the sounds of his home life, more lively and supportive than he ever expected to have.

He wasn’t expecting any of this, he didn’t think everything would change so fast. But when you spend the better part of your life pushing down such a huge part of you and then finally give yourself an out, a chance to show the people who love you who you really are, everything just... follows.

Love follows. Acceptance follows. Family follows. And he wasn’t really expecting any of it.

He certainly doesn’t expect it when Cas walks into the library after his weekly Thursday evening call with Claire and announces, matter-of-factly and with air quotes, “We’re going to "Pride" this weekend.”

Dean’s stomach drops. It’s the Sioux Falls Pride Parade and Festival, it’s in two days, and they’re leaving tomorrow to spend the night at Jody’s so they can all be there bright and early Saturday morning. Everyone immediately starts bustling about, packing and planning outfits and gathering flags to bring with them.

Dean just goes to his room– his and Cas’s now– to pack a small duffle.

Well, he means to. Instead, he takes out the duffle from the closet, puts it on the bed, and sits next to it for a while. An hour goes by. He thinks back to all those times he had brushes with one of these things and was just never in the right mindset. He’s not even sure he’s in the right mindset now, but he’s going. It’s happening.

“Jack’s all ready to go,” Cas says when he walks in. “We spent about half an hour putting together an outfit for Saturday. He wanted it to be as colorful as possible.”

Dean smiles, but it’s not all there. He looks at the empty duffle next to him.

“Yeah, I might need some help with that myself.”

Cas is in sweats and a hoodie. Yes it’s June, yes it’s hot, but he’s a quasi-angel, and the way he experiences the world Dean will never be able to wrap his head around. He walks over and stands in front of Dean, running a hand through his hair and down the side of his face until he’s cupping Dean’s jaw. Dean takes Cas’s hand and leaves a few kisses on the inside of his wrist, closing his eyes as he does.

Cas regards the empty bag and hums quietly, as if in thought, before walking over to their closet. Dean chases his hand, holding onto it until he’s completely out of reach. Cas starts searching, and Dean’s stomach knots more and more with each clang of the hangers. Cas finally pulls out a flannel from its hanger– purple with hints of blue and pink– and tosses it over. Dean can’t believe he didn’t think of it first.

They continue to pack in comfortable silence before changing and getting into bed. Dean doesn’t flop onto his stomach or cuddle into Cas’s side as he usually does; instead, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling in a daze.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice snaps him out of it.

Dean turns his head and asks, automatically, “You okay?”

It’s a habit by now, asking each other that question. It’s part of the working-through-a-decade’s-worth-of-shit thing they’re doing. Turns out they share a whole lot of trauma. They share worries and insecurities. They share nightmares sometimes, mostly about the Empty.

“I’m okay,” Cas says, putting his hand on top of Dean’s heart for him to hold, and Dean can breathe a little easier.

“You nervous about this thing?” Dean asks, interlocking their fingers.

“The parade? No, not really.”

And then, because he's been working on communicating how he's feeling out loud or whatever, Dean looks back up at the ceiling and says, "I am. Kinda."

He feels Cas shifting and propping himself up on his elbow, and then he's in Dean's line of sight. Dean's gaze is drawn to him, like all of him has been since the moment they met, and Dean can't believe he just has this now. He has a boyfriend, and it's Cas, and he's looking down at Dean with stars in his eyes and a comforting smile that actually works because it's Cas.

And then Cas is leaning down and softly pressing their lips together, and that's also something Dean can’t believe he gets to do: kiss Cas good morning and good night and at any moment in between, kiss him I'm sorry, kiss him we're going to be okay, kiss him I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," Cas says once they've pulled away, and Dean didn't even realize he'd said it out loud, but it doesn't matter. "And you don't need to be nervous. I'll be there with you."

The thought should be a thousand times more nerve-wracking, not just going to Pride but going to Pride with Cas on his arm. It's not nerve-wracking at all, and he soon drifts off to sleep.

Friday goes by faster than it should. The six-hour drive to Sioux Falls, although packed in a car with five people, goes by in a blink. They stop for provisions before getting to Jody's, filling up on backpacks' worth of snacks.

They get to the house and are met with endless hugs and excitement to match. Patience, Alex, and Jody are already working on dinner for the bunch, while Charlie, Donna, and Kaia are running around prepping for the next day and dragging along a hesitant but nevertheless happy Claire. Dinner is chaotic and loud and there are way too many people at the table, and Dean has to step outside after a while.

He sits on the back porch steps. Claire joins him. She's holding a beer, he's not. He hasn't been drinking for a few months now. They don't talk, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they stay there a while, looking at the stars.

When they go back inside, Claire sits back down in her spot at Cas's left, across the table from Dean, and leans on his shoulder for a while too. It's her way of saying she cares, of saying I missed you without really saying it. Jack sits at Cas's right, talking excitedly with Patience about some tv show or other, and the image fills Dean with such fondness that he reaches over with his foot, presses it to Cas's ankle, and keeps it there for the rest of the night.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Sam, and Eileen spend the night spread out around in the living area while the girls sleep in their respective rooms, and Dean is only slightly less nervous as he falls asleep holding Cas’s hand.

---

The nerves all come flooding back as he’s parking the Impala the next morning.

They’re not able to get even remotely close to Phillips Avenue since the streets are so full. They park the three cars that all twelve of them came in as close as they can and then have to walk for another twenty minutes. From blocks and blocks away, people walk and holler and greet them excitedly, many of them trying to circle this swarm of flanneled individuals that are taking up a whole sidewalk. Granted, Dean and Claire are the only ones in their usual kind of outfit. The rest of the bunch is wearing as many colors as they could compile from their closets, half of them are wearing face paint, and the other half are carrying an assortment of pride flags.

They fit right in.

The walk toward the main avenue of the parade is kind of a blur for Dean. He knows he waved at a few people, some friends of Alex from high school joined the group at some point, and Jack already grabbed a snack from his backpack.

The actual parade is also kind of hazy. Getting out of the house that morning had been probably even more chaotic than the night before, so they’re a bit late and the parade has already been going for a good half hour. On top of that, they accidentally merge into it not quite at the starting point but a bit further down the road, in between a decked-out pickup truck and a group of people with dogs. Music is blaring, the dogs are all barking, a big float rides a few yards in front of them, and hundreds stand on the sidewalks recording on their phones and cheering them along.

Dean’s not sure they’re even supposed to be in the actual parade. Maybe they’re supposed to be on the sidewalks? Is this right? What is happening, what is he even doing here?

He doesn’t notice how heavy he’s breathing until Cas is squeezing his hand and beckoning him to meet his eyes. He does, and the blue in them, as imposing as the Atlantic, drowns out everything else around them. “You’re okay, my love,” Cas says. It’s a fact. As long as Dean is with him, he’s okay.

On his other side, Dean feels someone link their arm around his. It’s Charlie, and she’s beaming at them, her cheeks almost as red as her hair. It brings Dean back to reality, grounds him, but he’s okay now. He’s not alone, and he’s meant to be here.

He’s proud to be here.

The parade leads up to a sloping park, and at the lowest point of it, there’s a stage where Dean assumes someone will MC for the afternoon, or maybe perform. It’s grandiose in its simplicity, kind of like a Greek theater, with everyone settling down on the grass around it, expectantly.

“We’ll be right back,” Dean hears Sam say, and he turns to find they’re all set to spend the afternoon, towels laid and backpacks off (save for his). “Jack wants to go meet the drag queens,” Sam says with just a bit too much glee before he and Jack take off.

“It’s not just Jack,” Eileen smiles and follows.

Cas is already sitting, eating one of the PB&Js he packed as lunches for everyone. Jody and Donna are settling down as well and Charlie’s taking a dozen pictures, but the rest of the girls are all standing. “We’re gonna go check out the vendors,” Claire announces, and they start to take off as well.

“Be careful, please!” Dean calls after them, but they pay him no mind. He turns to Charlie. “Hey, your majesty, keep an eye on them will you?”

She smiles, bows gracefully, and heads in the same direction.

Jody stands and grabs Dean by the arm, beckoning him to talk in private for a second.

“What’s up?”

If Dean knows Jody at all, and he does, they’re on the brink of a mom talk.

“Look around, Dean.”

“What for?”

“Just look,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Please?”

So, at her request, Dean starts taking in the environment. Now that everyone is gathered, he can actually see all the people that came out (heh) for the event. There are church groups, pet shelters, skateboarders, and rollerskaters. Drag queens are already taking pictures by the stage, and at least two people are wearing unicorn heads. A few vendors’ tents and food trucks surround the park, and rainbows completely dominate the scenery. There are elders, and kids, and all kinds of families and couples, and everyone looks… happy. Free.

And Dean is here with them. He is one of them.

There’s no danger, no monsters of any kind. No one to judge him, hurt him, call him sick in the head.

He finds Claire’s blonde head amongst the sea of shoppers at the edge of the park. She’s holding hands with Kaia and has one of the biggest smiles Dean has ever seen on her face. There’s no shame in it, and she’s not in any danger either. Things are different now, and she has the freedom to be herself that he never had at her age.

He has it now too. He can be himself.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s about to cry until Jody pulls him down into a hug.

“Dean, I am so proud of you.”

And then he cries.

---

They spend the afternoon laying on the grass, eating, drinking, and enjoying the festivities. The girls come back from the vendors’ tents after a full hour, and most of the bags on their arms are Charlie’s. She gets Cas a mug that says bee yourself in rainbow colors with an image of a cartoon bee, and she gets Dean a button pin that says AC/DC in pink and blue. There’s a meaning behind that apparently, and Dean decides he’ll look it up later.

Jack memorizes all the drag queen’s names. Donna takes a million pictures. They trade numbers with a few people.

There’s a big fireworks show just after sundown. It starts to get windy and a bit chilly, so Dean grabs the nearest pride flag and wraps it around himself. Cas, the perpetual freak who just doesn’t feel temperature apparently, is wearing a t-shirt and shorts and smiling at him unabashedly.

“What?”

“That’s the bisexual flag.”

So it is. “Shut up,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too. “You want in on this?”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to respond before he wraps it around his shoulders as well. The fireworks continue.

“You know,” Cas says after a beat. “As beautiful as they are, pyrotechnics are extremely damaging to the environment.”

Dean can’t help but laugh because of course, Cas would say something like that in a moment like this. He laughs and laughs and regrets being the only one to have heard that; then again, he’s the only one who could’ve found that funny.

He laughs a bit more, wipes a tear, and sees that Cas is still just solemnly watching the show.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He replies and then turns his head.

Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so bad. Then he remembers where he is, physically and in his life right now, realizes whom he’s surrounded by at this very second, and decides that he can.

So he does. It’s not unlike the way he kissed Cas when they rescued him from the Empty. Granted, there’s less sweat, blood, adrenaline. But just like that day, they’re both on the ground, and the gesture catches Cas by surprise. Just like that day, Dean pulls Cas in gently by the back of his neck and there’s no hesitance or fear. Just like that day, he just does it, presses their lips firmly together, and relishes in the taste of Castiel, in the feeling of the person he loves most in this world kissing him back.

The one big difference is this: that day marked the beginning of the rest of his life. Today? Today is just Dean’s first Pride.