#who is all the yellow text lol - i gave him his own text color!

[returntosaturn271995]

Tuesday, June 27th: Allen Cohen

Today I took my walk later than usual. In a bid to stop ordering late night food, I crashed out last night after reading Fourth Wing and listening to the accompanying playlist on Spotify (nerd, I know). Anyways, because I didn’t shove my face full of Taco Bell, I woke up oddly early and starving so I made scones at 6 am. Hannah seemed genuinely alarmed to see me before the crack of 9.  

Once I get mentally healthy, it’s over for these hoes. 

I said as much to my mom walking down the street today, late afternoon sun on my heavily sunscreen-ed skin. We were talking shit about my Dad’s mom, who has been drunk texting me lately. That’s a trait that does not get cuter with age. Grandma has been left on read for the good of all parties.  

It was my second long phone conversation of the week: Emily and I Facetimed for 2 1/2 hours yesterday because we are incapable of having a short conversation. I can’t believe it’s been a year since she moved. The potted pothos she gave me before she left, appropriately named Emily Jr., is still thriving. 

That actually reminds me, I need to water my step-plant. 

On my way back from the beach, I saw a house on Missouri St. that was butter yellow and had a large floral mural wrapping around it, the last vine stopping as the garage door opened to show an epic collection of art, mostly paint on canvas, but of all kinds of styles. Being nosy, I walked up the driveway.

There were fallen palm tree leaves painted to look like various tiki faces, African style art, a recreation of “The Girl with the Pearl Earring” with surreal elements, a 30 X 30 romantic water color of a woman reading a faded letter on her bed, a black and white sketch of a tornado hitting a Kansas farm with a lurid bright rainbow cutting through it, a glowing blue fairy sitting a on a leaf on a black pond. Allen Cohen ‘79, ‘88, ‘96, ‘04 dotted the corners of the frames, and in the corner of the garage sat the man himself. The top of his head was barely visible through a thicket of paintbrushes, stained bristles standing like tall grass. 

He had to be approaching 70 and I would come to find out, did this solely as a hobby. “I’ve played around with a lot of styles over the years, I went to school for art but worked in restaurants to pay for school. I ended up staying in the restaurant industry my whole career, but kept painting.”

I asked if he would ever sell. He shrugged, standing in front of what I have no doubt was over $100,000 worth of art. Although likely priceless as a lifetime of artistic moments surrounded us like a cluttered and beautiful mural of his mind. Standing in his cramped garage workshop I felt overwhelmed, remember this. 

Remember the portraits of his family members on the wall, the huge canvas of a faceless girl at an open mic in a spotlight that I knew was standup rather than singing, a photo of his father smiling from the 1950′s in a suit Sinatra would have worn. 

Today also weirdly happened to be the day I got to a 400 entries of this blog. Although, obviously, not nearly as inspiring or dramatic. Tumblr gave me a little chatter box badge. Jesus lol. 

Still, people find ways to express themselves, often in a way that’s delightfully not for sale. It adds up to its own kind of gallery. With varying styles and recreated personalities. Moods and eras and emulations of other work. 

“I didn’t have models so I used to tear things out of magazines”, he indicated a canvas of a brunette woman reading in bed on a white comforter, sheets askew and in a slant of light that told you it was a Sunday morning in whatever universe she lived in.

I smiled, remembering the hideous collage I covered a wall of my room with magazine cut outs when I was 15. I was obsessed with advertising even then. Scotch tape and scissors in my teenage hands, AC Newman on my pink ipod shuffle. 

The work closest to his desk, protected by a barricade of completed canvases, was a portrait of him and his wife. 

[starbuck]

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

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[levi-lover]

New Light Part: 1

College Levi x Reader(Modern AU)

W/C: 2.5

T/W: Pretentious Hipster Levi lol 

A/N: Levi is a moody English major who spends his free time reading at the local cafe and yes, I think that is sexy as hell. This is a slowburn piece kinda  inspired by the Hulu show Normal People! I love that show but I could never watch it again bc it breaks my heart too much lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Part Two will be up soon! & this picture is from Pinterest)

I’ve put all the parts in one list here:  New Light Masterlist

“I just don’t get it.” You huffed and leaned back into your chair. 

“Don’t worry, this stuff takes time to learn!” Hange looked at you earnestly.

The two of you had been studying at Maria’s Coffee for a few hours. Your genetics midterm was in a few days and you were completely lost. You met Hange on your first week, you anxiously walked into the lecture hall thinking this would be an easy pass to fulfill your science credit. Oh boy, were you wrong. Immediately, you were thrown into the depths of mitosis and chromosomes. The only good thing that came out of it was your new friendship with Hange. On your first day, Hange complimented your sweater and asked if they could sit with you. Hange was a genetics major so this class was easy, hell, it was fun for them. They offered to tutor you so you bought them coffee during your study sessions in return.

“Yeah, you’re right but still,” You said in between sips of your coffee. “How do you like this stuff?” 

“Oh, it’s fascinating to me, it’s crazy how we’re made up of tiny cells and in those cells is our human history but we can’t even see it. It’s like the world’s smallest yet most important puzzle.” Hange’s eyes lit up as they continued speaking. 

You listened and continued to drink your coffee. It was late but the cafe was still busy with college students hurrying to type their papers and study for tests. The lamps left soft yellow shadows on the cream colored walls. The cafe was homey and it felt like it was a cottage pulled straight out of a forest. From the back of the cafe, you could see the entrance. It was raining and people ran across the sidewalk with their jackets over their heads. You laughed through your nose.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Hange questioned. 

“What? Of course, I am. Science is the answer to everything, right?” You quipped. 

Hange rolled their eyes and went back to their textbook. You kept your eyes on the front door. It had been a few days since you had seen your coffee shop friend. The word friend was a loose term for your relationship with the dark-haired boy. Your relationship started one day when you were sitting in the spot you are now, it was late, close to 1 am and after downing two cups of coffee you needed to pee. Across from you was a small man holding a used copy of Slaughterhouse Five, he was dressed in all black and was munching on a muffin. You asked him to watch your stuff, he nodded and pushed his hair away from his gray eyes. From that point on, you developed a friendship founded on your mutual respect for privacy yet concern over each other’s well-being. It became an unspoken rule that this was the only place you would meet. Your attention returned to your work, if he wasn’t going to show up then whatever, he was just another stranger. 

“Hange, I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“What?! Why?! We haven’t even gotten to the good part, wait until you hear about what happens to the amino acids during replication.” The same familiar look of excitement washed over Hange’s face. 

“Look as exciting as it all sounds, I’m gonna have to pass.” You began to gather your things when the front door opened. You looked up and saw the dark-haired boy. He looked as pretty as always with a beige tote bag draped across his shoulder, droplets of rain hung onto his dark strands. Next to him stood a tall, handsome blonde man who was looking around the cafe. His eyes stopped when he reached your table and he lifted a hand and waved at you. You looked at him confused. 

“LEVIIII!! ERWIIIN!!” Hange yelled and waved their arms. People looked up at them with annoyance. 

“Wait, you know them?” You asked.

“Who, those idiots? Yeah. I forgot to tell you I invited them to study with us. Levi promised to help me write a paper,” Hange said nonchalantly. “Shit! I should have asked you if that’s okay. Is it?” 

You looked down and felt your face redden, “no worries, it’s not a problem.” 

“I’ll introduce you to them, they’re buttheads but they don’t bite.”

You sat back down and looked at your notebook as the dark-haired boy and the tall blonde walked towards you. A bundle of nerves planted themselves in your stomach but you couldn’t understand why. You’ve known this man for a couple of months now, slowly building a friendship at your own pace. It was nice to have control over something in your life for once but life always has a different plan for you; it was time to properly meet the dark-haired boy. All rules are eventually broken.

You ruffled the papers in front of you and took another sip of your drink but it was empty. Shit, you thought. The two men were standing in front of you and Hange at this point. The dark-haired boy looked at you, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, you’re House Coffee,” he said in a monotonous tone.

The blonde man and Hange looked at him confused, “wait, you know her?” Hange asked.

You shook your head, “nope.”

The dark-haired boy looked at you confused.

“Well, kinda, actually,” You muttered.

“Huh, that’s cool!” Hange announced. “Levi’s a little bitch but you probably already knew that.”

“Shut up, Four Eyes,” Levi retorted.

The blonde man laughed, “my name is Erwin. I’m a Political Science and History double major.” He gave you a dashing smile and lifted his hand.

Levi rolled his eyes, “humble much?”

Erwin gave him a glare before returning his clear blue eyes to you. You chuckled and raised your hand to his. It was a firm handshake.

“My name is (Y/N), it’s very nice to meet you, Erwin. And it’s Levi, right?” Your head turned to the dark-haired boy and he blushed slightly. Hange and Erwin exchanged a look.

Hange raised their hands slightly and asked, “I’m confused.”

“When aren’t you.” Levi remarked.  

“Oh, shut it you. I thought you two already knew each other.”

You placed your hands around the empty mug, hoping it would stabilize your nerves. “Know might be a strong word, I guess we’ve seen each other here before?“ You shrugged and looked at Levi.

He nodded, “I agree, we sometimes look after each other’s stuff and talk about books.”

“Good to know. I’m glad Levi has someone else to talk to,” Erwin declared.

They pulled out two chairs and placed them around the table. Erwin pulled out his laptop and his binders, everything was color-coordinated down to the tabs and pens. Levi pulled out a yellow notepad and a beat up copy of On the Road and single black pen. He tried his best to act natural but was unsure how to act around you and his friends. He wasn’t prepared for his two worlds to crash, it wasn’t that he was ashamed to know you. He enjoyed your company but it was something that was special to him. He didn’t want to share those precious late night hours with anyone else but you.

“I’m going to go buy a tea, (Y/N) do you want anything?” Erwin said pointing at your empty cup.

“Uh no-” You were about to say before Levi interrupted you.

“12 oz house coffee, splash of soy,” He stated.

Hange raised their eyebrows, in all their years of friendship he had never bothered to learn their coffee order. Erwin was equally as surprised. You stared at Levi, unsure what to say.

“Alright, you got it,” Erwin said before grabbing your empty mug.

Levi and Erwin got up and walked to the front counter. Hange grabbed your arm and you looked at them surprised.

“How long have you known Levi?” They whispered.

“Uh, like I said, ‘know’ is a strong word but a couple of months. We just sit near each other and sometimes talk. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe Levi didn’t tell me he knew you,” Hange said in disbelief.

“Did you tell him about me?” You retorted

“No but still. If I knew my two friends knew each other, I would have set this study party together a long ass time ago.”

You shrugged and went back to looking at your notes. By this time, Levi and Erwin were walking back to the table. Erwin was holding a mug of tea and your coffee, Levi was holding a mug of tea in one hand and an apple muffin in another. Erwin handed you your coffee and you thanked him. He sat in front of you and Levi opposite of him. Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “how do you guys know each other?”

“We met in genetics class,” You responded.

“You’re a science major, too?”Erwin asked.

“No, I’m a humanities major but I still need my science requirement so I’m taking this class and majorly regretting it.”

“Hey, it’s not all bad. We’re friends now,” Hange nugged their elbow at you, you gave them a smile and nodded.

“What a reward,” Levi muttered.

You held back a laugh which made Levi smile, he hid it behind his book.

“How do the three of you know each other?” You pointed to the trio.

Hange shot up from their text book and exclaimed,“oh, (Y/N) you’re going to love this so it all started four years ago…”

It was their freshman year, Levi’s uncle had just dropped him off at the dorms and left him alone to unpack. Levi didn’t have much except for a suitcase of clothes, a bed sheet set and a small box of books. He started to put his clothes away in the drawers when the door opened and a lean, tall blonde boy and his father walked in, pulling a cart of the boy’s belongings.

“Hi, you must be my roommate. My name is Erwin,” he stood at the doorway awkwardly waving at Levi.

“Levi.”

“Hello, I’m Erwin’s dad, nice to meet you.”

Levi gave him a small smile and continued to organize his side of the room, it took about fifteen minutes in total. After Erwin’s dad left, Levi and Erwin sat on their respectives beds in silence. It took them awhile but eventually they bonded over their mutual love of Russian poetry. Over the next few weeks, they built a symbiotic relationship filled with chore charts and late night study hangs. Levi genuinely enjoyed Erwin’s presence, he was his first friend outside of his hometown. Erwin felt the same way too. He never had a huge opportunity to meet people since he was homeschooled until his final two years of high school. They had found a companion in each other.

The week before Thanksgiving break, Erwin convinced Levi to host a small gathering in their dorm. Levi hesitantly agreed and Erwin managed to get his hands on a weed brownie. They invited a few of their floormates and shared the goods and drank a single Mike’s Hard Lemonade that Hange brought. They sat on the concrete floor and waited for the weed to hit after thirty minutes, no one was high. One of their floormates, Zeke, took a whiff of the brownie and laughed.

“Erwin, this is a fucking regular brownie,” he glanced at Erwin who was tenderly sipping out of the bottle. Zeke’s roommate, Porco laughed.

“No, it can’t be,” Erwin responded. Hange looked around nervously and Levi glared at Zeke.

“Ha, whatever. This kickback is lame anyways. Let’s go,” Zeke and the others left.

Hange, Erwin, and Levi stayed in silence for a few minutes until Hange spoke, “I thought it was a good brownie.”

Erwin gave them a half-hearted smile and looked down at the bottle. Levi sighed and walked to his closet.

“Now that those fucktards are gone, let’s have a real party,” Levi said as he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Erwin looked at Levi, shocked. “How long have you had that?”

“My uncle gave it to me when he dropped me off. As a going away present.” Levi shrugged it off.

The rest of the night was spent taking shots of whiskey and playing cards games, it was the first night of many.

“Wait, really? Erwin you bought a dud brownie.” You held your side as you laughed.

Erwin looked sheepishly at his drink. Levi had a smirk on his face.

“Yeah! Looking back at it now, it’s the funniest thing ever. But those other guys were jerks. I don’t remember their names now or anything but I hope they’re living horrible lives,” Hange proclaimed.

“I believe it and I hope so too.” You wiped a tear from your face and felt Levi’s gaze on you.

Levi had never seen you laugh that hard, he liked this side of you. He went back to notating his book but he couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth in his chest. The four of you remained in comfortable silence for a while. The coffee shop began to slow down as the clock ticked further into the night.

“This has been a lot of fun but I think I’m going to call it,” Erwin’s deep voice broke the silence of the table.

The three of you nodded in agreement and began to pack your bags. You watched Levi’s slender fingers gently put his belongings into his tote bag. His dark hair was getting long, it brushed against his cheek as he moved his body. You looked away quickly, you knew nothing could happen between the two of you but watching him interact with his friends casted a new light on him. Levi, what a name, you thought. For the past couple months, he was your secret friend, someone you could talk to without feeling judged because he was so removed from your everyday life but now, it was different. You both shared a mutual connection and of course, you shared the countless hours spent in this cafe.

The four of you made casual conversation as you exited the cafe. The cold air whipped your face and you tugged your scarf tighter around your neck.

“Hey, do you need a ride? I’m parked a block away,” Erwin asked you.

“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’ll walk her home.” Hange winked at Erwin, Levi rolled his eyes.

“I live a few blocks away but thank you. It was really nice to meet you Erwin and Levi it’s nice to finally know your name.”

Levi looked down at the ground and a pink glow appeared on his face, “yeah, this was nice.”

You watched them turn around and walk in the opposite direction for a moment before turning to Hange. The air was cool and the clouds had parted, leaving open an endless sky peaking through the buildings and the trees. It had become a ritual for the two of you to walk home after study sessions since you lived a few blocks away from each other. Hange made casual conversation on your walk home but you hardly paid attention. You kept on thinking about Levi and wishing you never learned his name.

[thetravelerwrites]

Eikichi and Sterling (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Oni/Male Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamorous Character, Oni, Tiefling Content Warnings: Sex, Double Penetration, Oral Sex, Power Bottom, Light Bondage, Light BDSM Words: 4990

 A commission for @faeryamber​! A woman and her oni boyfriend search online for a third to add to their relationship. They end up meeting a perfect gentleman who completes them.Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“What would we even say on our profile?” You asked your boyfriend, Eikichi. The two of you had been dating for almost five years and had an open relationship, but recently the two of you had been talking about adding a third.

Eikichi was an oni who had immigrated from Japan several years ago. He had been the kami, or god, of an old town that no longer existed and presided over construction for his parishioners for several hundred years. Laborers and carpenters from that town used to come to his temple to pray to him for success in their ventures. When the town died out, he was left homeless and joined the human society when other yokai from his region decided to do so. He was no longer a god, but being the CEO of his own construction company was just as good, he said, and he was just as happy now as he had been when he lived in the temple.

Despite a significant age difference, the two of you had fallen in love over tea and books, and the fact that he was gorgeous. Six foot five, two hundred and fifteen pounds of pure muscle, ivory colored horns rising up out of his white hair, red skin like ripe cherries, and yellow eyes. He was stunning. It still amazed you that he chose you to fall in love with. How would you get that lucky twice?

“Just be honest,” He said, his Japanese accent fairly heavy. “That we’re poly and looking for a male to complete our family. Make it clear we’re not looking for a unicorn.”

“A real unicorn or a figurative unicorn?” You asked jokingly.

“A figurative one,” He said with a smirk. “A real one might actually be cute.”

“Real unicorns welcome,” You typed. “Hehehe.”

“Are you being purposefully vague again?” He asked, putting tea next to you on the desk.

“It’s my favorite thing,” You replied.

“I thought I was your favorite thing,” He shot back, kissing the top of your head.

“Close second,” You said, laughing. “Don’t you have work soon?”

“I’m the owner, I can go in whenever I feel like it,” He retorted. “Are you working today?”

Eikichi owned a construction business, and you sold handmade clothing online by commission only.

“Not today,” You said. “I’ve been putting the housework off and I really should get to that mountain of laundry.”

“We could just throw it all away and buy new clothes,” He suggested.

“Don’t tempt me,” You replied, shooing him. “Go on. What are you thinking for dinner?”

“Spaghetti?”

“Again?”

“What? I like the way you make it.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead, cheek, and lips before picking up his jacket. “I’ll be home a bit early. It’s expected to rain.”

“Okay. Be safe.” You hugged him and saw him out of the door.

You sighed and looked around the house, demoralized by the sight of the housework you’d been neglecting. Both you and Eikichi were a little slovenly, you had to admit, but it was an acceptable amount of clutter. Usually.

Before you could bend down to pick up a pair of pants Eikichi had shucked off the day before as soon as he got in the door, you heard a ping on your phone. Looking down, you’d been matched with someone.

“Already?” You asked. You unlocked it and pressed the notification from OkCryptid. You saw who had matched with you and your jaw dropped.

“No way.”

It was, indeed, a unicorn, although he listed his race as tiefling. Where Eikichi was devastatingly handsome, this man was breathtakingly beautiful in a completely different way. He was thin, slightly taller than you but much shorter than Eikichi, and as pale as milkglass. His hair was long, white, and shimmery like spidersilk. A single horn spiraled out of the crown of his forehead. Pointed ears stuck out from under his hair, and his eyes were indigo in color. In his picture, he was dressed in an elegant, pale lavender suit that complemented his skin perfectly.

“Whoa,” You said under your breath. You took a screenshot and sent it to Eikichi. >You’re not going to believe this.

>You’re kidding! He replied quickly. >I was just joking!

>Me too! Should I message him?

>Hell yeah, he’d be perfect, look at him!

>He’s prettier than I am!

>Not possible. But he is gorgeous. Message him and see if he wants to meet up.

>I will.

You switched back to the app and started typing out a short message.

Hi. My boyfriend and I are in an open relationship, and you matched with us. Would you be okay meeting up sometime? We’d both love to get to know you.

You bit your lip as you hit send. You hoped he wasn’t the type who thought he was better than you or Eikichi because he was pretty or wore suits and such. You put your phone back in your pocket and returned to your housework, putting the lovely tiefling out of your mind.

A few hours later, while you were folding some very large boxer briefs, you got another ping. There was a message from the tiefling. With your heart in your throat, you opened it.

Hello! I’m Sterling. I’m very much open to the idea of an open relationship. I’m free this weekend on Saturday, if that works for you and your partner. Please let me know as soon as you can.

Your heart jumped and you felt giddy. You immediately texted Eikichi.

>He wants to meet us Saturday! You don’t have plans then, do you?

>I do now. Tell him we’ll be happy to meet him. You want to do that Japanese cafe?

>You just like that place because that kitsune owner and his girlfriend are pretty and you like looking at them.

>So?

>Maybe we shouldn’t ogle other people while were wooing someone.

>Perhaps you’re right. Sigh. Okay, then the Italian place you like.

>Ooh, I’m always happy with that.

>I know you are. LOL

You smiled. He did know you pretty well. You switched back to the app and messaged Sterling again.

That Saturday, you and Eikichi waited at your favorite restaurant, sipping some wine, when Sterling arrived. He was dressed in a suit again, though a dark burgundy one this time. His bright, gossamer hair was pulled back into a tight plait. Gods, he was pretty.

“Hello,” He said, his voice lilting. “I assume the two of you are my dates tonight?”

“We are,” You said, standing up. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

He took your outstretched hand and folded it into both of his, smiling sweetly. “Very nice.”

“Eikichi,” Your boyfriend said, holding out his hand in turn.

“Well, aren’t you strapping?” Sterling said with a grin, shaking Eikichi’s hand firmly. “Let’s sit, shall we. Oh, thank you for ordering me a glass as well.”

“Of course,” Eikichi said.

“So, tell me about yourselves,” Sterling said, taking a sip of his wine and raising his eyebrows appreciatively. “What am I getting myself into?”

The two of you told him about your jobs and life together and he listened attentively. “What do you do, Sterling?” You asked. “I would hazard a guess that it’s something to do with fashion, given how you dress.”

“Very astute of you,” He replied, pleased. “I’m a tailor, in fact. I own a menswear shop downtown.”

“Really?” You said with interest. “I’ve only ever made dresses, never suits.”

“Well, we will have to compare techniques, then, won’t we,” He said with a charming smile.

“Fashion is something that’s well over my head,” Eikichi said. “But you work with your hands. That’s something we all have in common, even if my profession gets me a little dirty more often.”

“You look good dirty,” You said in a flirty tone. “And even better all soaped up.”

He snorted. “You’re supposed to be flirting with our date, not me.”

“No reason she can’t do both,” Sterling said reasonably, sipping his wine. “So, would I be dating one or both of you? I’ll mean, I am bisexual and you’re both very attractive, but I want to know where my boundaries are.”

Eikichi nodded. “Both. We’re both bisexual and have outside girlfriends. Those relationships are casual and we both prefer it that way.” He gestured at you. “We’ve both met each other’s girlfriends. The four of us sat down and discussed all of us dating each other, but we ultimately decided against it.”

You leaned forward. “Have you ever been in an open relationship?”

“No, not as such,” He said. “I’ve only dated casually before. I’m not opposed to the idea of commitment, it just… hasn’t happened for me yet.”

“It could,” You replied. “Maybe you just haven’t met the person for you. Or persons.”

“Are you insinuating you two are said persons?” He asked with a smirk.

You shrugged and grinned. “We could be. Why don’t we find out?”

He matched your smile.

“We make decisions together,” Eikichi said. “We’ve got a contract, you might say: she’s what you would call a power bottom. She likes taking the submissive role, but she also likes to tell me what to do, and even though I’m what could be considered a dom, I like taking orders. It’s a little unorthodox, but it works for us.”

“How would I fit in?” Sterling asked.

“That depends. What position do you play, so to speak?”

“Whatever is best at the time. I guess I’m a switch? Though, I have to admit I haven’t been very adventurous.”

“We’ll teach you, if you want to learn,” You said, leaning closer so that your fingertips touched his arm.

“It’s not just about sex, though,” Eikichi said. “We want someone to love us as much as we’ll love them. If you decide you’d like to be casual, that’s fine. We can keep you casually and just continue looking for our third. Honesty and openness is the most important thing in any relationship. If you decided to be in the relationship with us, that would apply to you, too.

“And your impression of me so far, if I might ask?”

“You seem genuine and intelligent, and you’re very good looking. I don’t get any bad vibes of you. So far.”

“So what would be your recommendation?”

“Well, the date just started,” Eikichi said. “Let’s get to dessert before we make further plans.”

“And what does the boss say?” Sterling asked, turning to you.

You side-smiled at him. “Dessert first. But let’s just say you passed the application process.”

The three of you spent another two hours talking over dinner and dessert. Sterling was funny and smart and surprisingly nerdy, once he opened up. He loved manga, anime and collecting Funko Pop Vinyl figures. He had quite the collection. He had spend several years in Japan learning about Japanese fashion after college and ended up having a lot of tastes in common with Eikichi, reminiscing about food and drink brands they couldn’t get in the states.

With you, he talked about fashion and sewing and wanting to branch out. And all three of you had similar tastes in music, books, and movies.

After dinner, the three of you went to a small, comfortable pub that you and Eikichi were familiar with and continued your conversation well into the night. At one point, Sterling even loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, which you thought was a great sign. He seemed comfortable and open. And you got to peak at his collarbone.

Eventually, the bar closed, and the three of you reluctantly decided to call it a night with plans to see each other again soon.

“I really liked him,” You said in the car on the way home.

“I could tell,” Eikichi said with a smile. “You were practically in his lap by the time the night was over.”

“You like him, too,” You said shrewdly in response.

“I do like him,” Eikichi admitted. “There was definitely a connection between all of us. I think he might be the one we’re looking for.”

“Me, too,” You said, bouncing in your seat slightly. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

Eikichi smiled at your enthusiasm, but you knew he was just as excited.

A few days later, the three of you met up for drinks and continued talking. You felt that flushed, rosy feeling when you first start dating someone and it’s going really well, and you thought Sterling was feeling it, too. He was soon holding hands with both you and Eikichi in turn, being flirty and physically affectionate.

You were trying to go slow and not jump into things head first, but there was a real, tangible attachment between the three of you that was hard to ignore. You could see it on both men’s faces when they looked at each other, and when they looked at you.

That night before you parted ways with Sterling, he kissed you full on the lips. It wasn’t just a peck, either; it was long and open-mouthed, with just a hint of tongue. You were surprised but delighted, and reciprocated happily. When he parted with you, he pulled Eikichi down and kissed him, too.

“Why don’t we meet at our house next time?” You asked him. “I think you’ll have a good time with us.”

He grinned. “I have no doubt I will. Sounds wonderful.”

You bit your lip and smiled. “Until then.”

The night of your home date, you were jittery. You wanted to look cute, hot, sexy, and intimidating, but couldn’t decide what to wear that reflected all of those things. You stood inside your closet wearing only your nicest pair of panties.

“You could just answer the door naked,” Eikichi suggested.

“All of your solutions involve nudity,” You snorted.

“That’s why they’re clearly the best solutions,” He replied.

“You are absolutely no help to me,” You said, switching between two different dresses in front of the mirror.

“That black sheer one with the lace, then,” He replied as he watched. “It’s a nice preview.”

“Oh, but I only wear that one for you. Won’t you be jealous?” You asked playfully.

“Nah,” He said, coming up behind you and putting his hands on your stomach. “If we’re going to share, then there’s no point in keeping things from each other. He should enjoy it just as much as I do. Besides, I’m going to wear that black shirt you like so much.”

“Oooh, the one with the subtle feather pattern on it?” You asked as he helped you into the dress. “I do like that one. Leave the top two buttons undone in that way that I can see your collarbone.”

“You and your obsession with collarbones,” He said, snickering.

“Hey, we all got our own things we like. Don’t kinkshame me in my own house,” You joked. “I don’t poke fun at you for your pregnancy fetish.”

“You’re the one who decided no kids,” He said grumpily, checking his watch. “He’ll be here soon. I’ll finish up dinner .+while you get dressed.” He kissed your neck. “You look delicious no matter what you wear.”

He could always make you blush, even after five years. He walked back out to the kitchen and finished up the okonomiyaki and tsukune balls. Eikichi wasn’t exactly a gourmet cook, but he knew how to make plenty of his favorite dishes from home. He thought Sterling might like some Japanese food to remind him of his time there.

Sterling arrived later wearing a black suit with a blood red tie and pocket square. His hair was pulled back in an elegant french braid with red ribbons threaded throughout. He stood at the door with roses, wine, and a bright smile.

“Well, I guess we were all of one mind this evening,” He said as he looked at the both of you both wearing black. He gave you the roses and the wine, which actually turned out to be plum sake.

“Umeshu!” Eikichi said. “I haven’t had this in ages! Come in, come in, sit! I’ll pour us all a cup.”

“How was your day, Sterling?” You asked him, offering to take his coat.

He shrugged it off and gave it to you with a gentle smile. “It was pleasant. I made a few good sales and I have an order for a bespoke three piece double breasted suit with a shawl lapel. Someone is going somewhere fancy, which is my favorite thing to work on. So much gossip during fittings.”

You put the roses in a vase as Eikichi poured the sake. Sterling sat at the table, which was beautifully set, and you placed the roses in the center. Eikichi handed both of you a traditional choko sake dish, one of the few relics he’d brought with him from his old temple.

“Ah, this takes me back,” Sterling said, sipping delicately.

“Me too,” Eikichi sighed happily.

“I’ve never been to Japan,” You said. “Eikichi keeps talking about us taking a vacation there, but he’s such a workaholic that it never ends up happening.”

“We will go! I promised, didn’t I?” Eikichi protested.

You grinned at him playfully. “I’ll believe it when it happens, mister.”

“I would love to take some time off and go back,” Sterling said wistfully. “Some of the best years of my life were spent on that island.”

“Maybe you may be more successful in talking Eikichi into putting in some vacation time,” You said, winking.

“I will endeavor to try,” Sterling said, putting a hand out and resting it on the back of Eikichi’s. Eikichi flipped his and grasped Sterling’s hand briefly, smirking at him, before standing up to finish dinner.

“Tsukune?” Sterling said in a pleasantly surprised tone.

“Yep,” Eikichi said. “And okonomiyaki. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“The two of you are spoiling me,” Sterling said, a hand to his heart a little dramatically, which made you snicker.

Dinner went amazingly. Sterling praised Eikichi’s cooking and he adored your dress, even more so when you told him you’d made it yourself. He actually got down on the ground so he could look at the stitching on the hem.

You smiled to yourself, looking at the top of his head from your chair. Your eyes flicked to Eikichi, and his smile was mischievous. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

You slid off your shoe and began tracing your toe up from his knee, where he knelt on the ground, and up his leg to his waist, managing to pull his shirt out of his pants and tickling the skin of his stomach.

He looked up at you, smirking, but didn’t stop you or say anything. Eikichi silently slid out of his chair and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, returning with a length of soft cotton rope before sitting back down at the table and watching with a fond smile. Sterling took your foot and kissed the top of it, working his way up your legs with his hands and lips.

You tilted your pelvis forward as his hands went up your skirt and pulled at your underwear.

“These are pretty,” He said as he slid them off.

“Only the best,” You replied with a grin.

“The safe word is ‘Enokida’,” Eikichi said idly from his seat where he was watching, lightly tapping the rope against his thigh. “Don’t stop until she says it, even if she screams and begs. Her rules, not mine.”

“I understand,” Sterling said, though he looked at you with an inquiring eyebrow. You nodded acquiescence and bit your lip.

He hiked your dress up to your waist, exposing you to the air. He kissed the inside of your thighs, working upward until he was breathing on your most sensitive place, stroking it lightly with one long finger. You hissed and sucked in a breath, your body stretching and flexing. His finger teased around your pearl without actually touching it, and he pulled up to kiss your mouth, biting and sucking your bottom lip. Ooh, he was good at this.

The first stroke of his tongue on your slit sent electricity though your body, and you moaned. He vocalized in return, sending vibrations through your skin. Eikichi set the rope on the table next to you and began caressing your shoulders and pulling lightly at your hair, tilting your head back to meet his kiss as Sterling continued his ministrations, looking up from his position on the floor to watch you and Eikichi make out and fondle each other.

Eikichi pulled your dress off and lifted your arms, starting to wrap your hands with the rope.

“Not tying her to the chair?” Sterling asked.

“Don’t stop!” You hissed, looking down. Sterling snickered and went back to work.

“She can get out if I tie her to the chair,” Eikichi said. “I don’t know how, but she can get out every time. What good is tying her up if she can just free herself anytime she wants? Again, her words, not mine.”

Sterling snorted, but continued. You were reaching your peak quickly, having been turned on all through dinner. Eikichi finished tying your hands and left a leash connected to it that he could control. He pulled your hands over your shoulder and held them against his chest while he used his other hand to massage your breasts.

Your thighs began to shake as you moaned loudly, unable to move. You crashed into that wall of pleasure at the speed of a freight train, but he kept going. You tried to push him away with your feet, but he held your legs back against your chest. Eikichi put your tied hands around his neck and grabbed your ankles, pulling them up. Sterling continued, pulling another orgasm from you almost immediately. You were a sweating, swearing mess at this point, but it was so good. You fought against the restraints and their firm grips, but the two of them held you in place rather effectively.

You were still shivering from the aftershocks of the last orgasm when another one sent you contracting off the chair. Eikichi, with his sheer brute strength, was the only thing that kept you from falling sideways.

“Enokida! Enokida!” You screeched, and Sterling finally pulled away and you were left boneless and gasping in the chair. Eikichi lifted you up bridal-style and carried you to the bedroom with Sterling following behind.

“Do you need a break?” Eikichi asked, petting your sweat soaked hair away from your face.

You nodded. “You two have fun while I catch my breath.”

Eikichi grinned at you and slid off the bed, catching Sterling by the waistband of his trousers and pulling him roughly toward him, kissing him passionately. Sterling responded favorably, kissing Eikichi back just as soundly and unbuttoning Eikichi’s shirt.

You spent your break slowing down your heart rate and watching the two of them undress each other and make out. It was pretty hot, you had to admit. Sterling pushed Eikichi on the bed and got on top of him, grinding against him as they kissed. Sterling found his way down Eikichi’s body, just like he had done with you, and started sucking Eikichi’s cock right next to you, where you could watch. Sterling kept switching eye contact with you and Eikichi in turn and moaning. Eikichi grunted and his legs flexed in pleasure.

Your hands were still bound, but you touched yourself as you watched them, and Sterling reached underneath him to fondle himself while he continued sucking. At some point, Eikichi tapped out and put Sterling on the bed, sucking him in turn.

“I’m ready again,” You said. “Eikichi, do the thing I like.”

“You got it,” He said, getting up on his knees. His massive dick swayed upright between his thighs. He took the leash part of the rope and pulled your legs back up, tying your knees up around your ribcage, giving you enough room to breathe but not enough to buck. He also put your arms around his neck, so that you couldn’t move them.

He picked you up and presented you, tied and splayed, to Sterling. “You go first.”

Sterling smiled and gripped your hips, lining his organ up with your entrance. Where Eikichi was all girth, Sterling’s was long and curved upward. He pushed himself into your dripping slit and you groaned. He didn’t waste time in being slow and gentle; he rammed straight into you and you screamed. He railed you fast and hard, every so often either kissing you or Eikichi over your shoulder.

As Sterling’s body slapped sharply against yours with every thrust, the pressure and pleasure continued to build until you burst, and your brain blanked, with you going limp in Eikichi’s grasp.

“Wait, hold up,” He said to Sterling, and Sterling stopped immediately, though he didn’t pull out. “You okay, babe?”

“Mmm,” You said. “Water.”

Sterling did withdraw then, grabbing a water bottle that was on the bed. Because you were tied, you couldn’t take the bottle so he opened it and helped you sip it.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You said. “Thanks.”

“You want to keep going or take another break?”

“I don’t think I need a break, but let’s take it a bit more slow. I loved what you were doing, but I think I’m overstimulated.”

“I got you,” He said, slipping himself back inside you more slowly and gently. Eikichi held you so that your head lay on his chest and he put his arms around you, holding you in place but also embracing you, kissing your neck and shoulders.

After some time, you said, “I want both.”

“You got it, babe,” Eikichi said. “There’s some lube in the dresser, Sterling, could you grab it?”

“Of course,” Sterling said. He stopped and pulled out, reaching over to opened the drawer and retrieve it. Reaching underneath you and taking Eikichi’s cock in his hand, Sterling slicked it down with the lube, which made Eikichi hiss, and then lead it to your pucker. Eikichi pushed himself inside you slowly, very slowly, until he was all the way inside and stopped. Sterling took his place back in front of you and took himself in his hand, stroking twice, and pushing back into you.

Ever so slowly, the two of them began to thrust in rhythm. Sterling caressed your face, then took a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly as he went in and out, his other hand had your breast in it’s grasp. Eikichi grunted and bit the lobe of your ear, whispering dirty things and moaning, blowing his breath across your skin.

The three of you moved in unison, crying out and gasping, sweating, swearing, screaming. Soon enough, they were both ramming you as hard as they could, and you were reveling in the full feeling, the incredible pressure, the feeling of being sandwiched between them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You shouted, cumming for possible the twentieth time. Sterling pulled out with a strangled groan and came all over your stomach and legs. Eikichi took another few seconds, but finished inside you, roaring and bucking into you from behind. Then the three of you collapsed in a pile.

“Eikichi, the ropes,” You said breathlessly.

He reached up and snapped them effortlessly, allowing them to slip off. Then you managed to move so that you were lying in between the two of them, arms and legs everywhere. Then the three of you just lay there and breathed for about ten minutes.

Sterling was the first to rouse. “Well,” He said, still a little out of breath. “That was definitely a good time, as promised.”

You laughed and pulled him into a kiss. “I’m glad we could live up to our promises.”

You thought Eikichi was almost asleep, except he said groggily, “Are you staying the night, Sterling?”

“I’d planned to,” Sterling said. “I closed the shop for the next two days. I wanted to be sure I had enough recovery time.”

Eikichi barked a laugh. “You might need another few days. This one is insatiable.” He jerked a thumb at you while his eyes were still closed.

“Sounds good to me,” Sterling said, laying his head on your breast and sighing contentedly. “I haven’t had a break since I opened the store. A mini-vacation is exactly what I need.”

“Hey, maybe you might actually get us to Japan, like Eikichi promised.”

“I said we would,” Eikichi protested sleepily, throwing an arm around you and pulling up the covers.

Sterling snuggled in, kissing the middle of your chest before settling. “I’ll see what I can do.”

One year later, you stepped out of the airport in Kyoto, bundled up against the cold. Eikichi stood next to you, carrying most of the luggage, and Sterling took out his phone to call a cab to take you to the apartment the three of you had rented for your vacation. On your left hand, you wore two interlocking engagement rings, one sterling silver, and the second rose gold.

You breathed in the crisp air. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”

“Believe it,” Eikichi said. “The spring wedding will be amazing.”

“And we came with plenty of time to get things in order,” Sterling said, hanging up. “Cab is on it’s way.”

“Thank you,” You said sultrily, pulling Sterling toward you for a kiss. “I also can’t believe the two of you actually said yes when I asked you if you wanted to get married.”

“I’d have married you years ago, babe,” Eikichi said, bending down to get his kiss. “I just didn’t know it was something you wanted.”

“Well, now you know,” You said, winking up at him. “And I can’t think of a better place.” You took a couple of the bags as the cab pulled up. “Now let’s get going. Our future is waiting.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

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[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

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[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

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[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

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[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

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DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

[babiemingoo]

depth of field || xu minghao

[requested]: photographer!minghao opened up his studio and no one has book an appt yet but one day y/n does and changes his life

genre: fluff, photographer!au || wc: 1.4k

a/n: oops I got carried away... I hope you still like it anon!!

minghao always knew that he wanted something that was completely his own

when he was a kid and people used to ask what he wanted to be when he grew up, it was always something along the lines of “be a ceo” or “invent something” or “start my own business”

things that he can say he did that were completely his because he made it happen all by himself

so when he got older and it was time to put his money where his mouth was, he saved up all his extra cash from college and worked extra jobs until he could finally open up his own photography studio

it was small, and he’d have to work up to making it exactly what he wanted, but it was perfect because it was his

and then you were his first client

he was thankful when you contacted him just a week or so after he opened because you know, everyone wants their businesses to succeed

you were actually contacting him because your sibling was getting married and as a wedding gift you offered to pay for their wedding shoot

(he already had a good impression of you from that alone because?? what a good idea???)

you had explained that you followed his photography account for a while and loved how simplistic yet captivating he made things look, and your minimalistic sibling would just looooove for him to do their shoot

of course he said yes, and the day that the photo shoot rolled around probably should’ve been really special for your sibling and their fiance

but it ended up being special for you and minghao instead

you tagged along to the shoot because, well you were paying lol and you always admired the work that minghao posted online

but seeing him in his element was so much different, so much more special

when you first got there he had been with his assistant of sorts (his name was mingyu) and they were both extremely friendly and welcoming

but the second your sibling got into the appropriate clothes and the camera went into minghao’s hand, you saw the way he shifted

minghao became incredibly focused and artistic; he directed with such a passion that you could tell that he absolutely loved what he did and put his heart into his work

your sibling and their fiance opted for the classic “against a big window with long curtains” photo shoot which seemed simple enough, but the way that minghao had mingyu adjust the subjects and the curtains to control the light and shadows added depth that you didn’t realize there was to the naked eye

the shoot itself went on for probably an hour, but you were so immersed in watching minghao and his art that it seemed so much less

when he showed you previews of the shots he took on the viewfinder while the others got changed, your fascination couldn’t help but pour out

you asked him all about photography, things like how he can tell when something is too close or too far and how he determines which angle is the best to invoke a certain feeling

he answered you excitedly, half because he just loved to talk about photography and half because he thought you were cute since the moment you walked in and he had been searching for a reason to talk to you

soon the others returned and he finished wrapping up the shoot, letting them know that he’ll email them finalized versions of their pictures within the next 3 to 5 days

it was in the middle of paying the second half of the fee when you finally got the courage to ask, “so, do you do private lessons?”

he most certainly did do private lessons

at least now he did

that was how the two of you ended up exchanging numbers with promises of setting up a schedule for him to teach you all the ins and outs of his craft

to say you were excited was an understatement, nearly falling out of your bed the next night when you finally got the text from him asking when you were available

mingyu most definitely didn’t lay off the teasing every time he and minghao worked on a project together

“I knew you were going to find a way to keep talking to them, literally when they walked through the door I immediately knew they were your type”

“gyu i’m just teaching them how to shoot”

“sharing your passion with someone else? sounds like the beginning of a love story to me”

minghao didn’t like to share. everything he always wanted was his and his only

but whenever he saw your eyes light up after he taught you a new function on his camera, or whenever you praised him for revealing one of the small tips he had discovered, he couldn’t help but notice the way his heart fluttered

suddenly, all he wanted to do was share

it started with photography. every time you two met up and he watched you improve at your still life photos or saw you get excited over the way you captured a certain color he decided he loved doing this with you. he adored being able to look at different parts of the world through a lens with you

shortly after it became sharing his nights. you were originally going to pay him in money for his lessons, but one day minghao had said that he’d very much prefer if you paid him in dinner instead

(”requesting them to buy you food as a way to ask them on a date? really smooth minghao.” “shut up gyu”)

the nights slowly turned into afternoons, or mornings. whenever he was able to see you really, because after you spent 3 hours in a small diner debating over stupid topics and hearing your laugh on a loop, he began to think that maybe nights just weren’t enough

minghao started to realize that he loved to be around you, doing things like spending time at a cafe where he watched the sun set behind you. the soft yellows and oranges were casted around your figure in a way that made you look unworldly. you were oblivious, too caught up in the menu to notice the way that he swore under his breath once he realized his feelings

he took a picture of you that day. set it as his background so he could look at it whenever he wanted.

shortly after that he confessed to you, and you agreed to share a commitment with him. you two decided to become exclusive and put labels on your relationship and mingyu was wayyy too happy to yell “I TOLD YOU SO” at his best friend when the two of you told him

minghao wasn’t surprised when he ended up sharing his heart with you. he saw it coming a long time ago when he realized that he much rather be with you than without you

weeks turned into months and turned into years and minghao stopped wishing something was just his, or something that only he owned. a life that had previously been something that was just for him was suddenly threaded completely with you

in time you ended up moving in with him, working with him at the studio, and you both even adopted a cat together

it was a random day some years into your relationship when minghao really became aware of how much you had changed his life

he was always a person who imagined a future that was just his, filled with accomplishments that were just his own

but as he worked on editing a graduation shoot he had just a few days to finish, the thought that he would probably work better if he had you there popped into his head. whether you gave your opinion on his choice of contrast or if you were just there to be with him, he would much rather share that moment with you 

he pieced together that he no longer wanted everything to be his

yours, he decided. ours, he thought to himself.

for once, minghao wanted to share. he wanted every aspect of his life to be part of yours and he wanted the two of you to venture on together

a few weeks later he proposed, in the small studio where he’ll always have an attachment because that’s where it all started

“I want to share my life with you; all of it. everything. the two of us, if you’ll let me”

minghao knew that wanted to share his entire life from here on out, as long as it was with you

[waywardnerd67]

Starving Affection

Summary: It had been five years since (Y/N) had any physical contact with another person. When she starts talking with a man online who reads her fanfics, a battle of her  mind and body begins. When the time comes to meet him, she finds that there are still decent human beings in the world.  Characters: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Sami (OFC), Plus Size!Reader Pairing: Jensen x Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut/Body Image Distortion Word Count: 9256 A/N: Again, me working through my feels. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

My chest tightened. Jaw clenched until my teeth hurt. My body rigid and frozen as panic flowed through my veins. The overly friendly, new teacher had her arms outstretched towards me. If I had been a normal person, I would gladly hold my arms out as well embracing her kindness and affection.

I was not normal.

“Hey Katy!” My partner teacher and best friend, Sami, headed her off by stepping in front of me and taking the hit of affection.

There was a special place in Heaven for Sami and if not, I would fight God themselves to make it so. I could see Sami whispering to Katy and a nod of acknowledgement told me I would not have to worry about her advancements again.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t know you weren’t a hugger. How about a high five?” Her sweet gesture had my trembling hand stretching out to her as she quickly slapped it with her own.

Only Sami could see my flinch from the physical touch of someone. Everyone else summed it up to my quirky personality and weird aversion to being touched. Thankfully our English department meeting was over and I could escape to the safe haven of my car. Sami was close behind me waving goodbye to everyone.

I bumped my shoulder to hers as she was the only one I had no problem with minor touching, “Thank you for taking that hug for me.”

She laughed, “You’re lucky I’m a friendly and huggy person. Hey, I meant to ask you before school today, but how is counseling going?”

I cringed, averting my gaze from her, “It’s… going fine.”

She stopped me with a tap on my shoulder, “The truth, please.”

I sighed as my shoulders slumped in defeat, “I stopped going,” I saw the incoming assault in her narrowing sky colored eyes.

“(Y/N)! You were making such good progress with this counselor. I was even able to give you a one arm hug.” The disappointment in her voice weighed my shoulders down even more.

I leaned against my car pulling on the sleeves of my hoodie, “I know, I know. She had me go to one of her support groups and everyone had to hug someone. I… I just couldn’t. I tried three or four times going to the group and I failed every time.”

My eyes fell to the ground, disgust filling my mind, “Yes, you really are as pathetic as you’re sounding.” My inner voice snarked.

I heard Sami sigh, “It’s okay. We can work through it together. We can keep doing everything you liked from her and work at your pace.”

Looking up, I forced my lips into a small smile to appease my only real life friend, “That sounds good. Thanks Sami for putting up with me.”

I made my way home to a small ranch style home that was off the beaten path. My grandparents had left it to me knowing I would love the seclusion of it. It was my Fortress of Solitude. The only living thing, other than Sami, to be able to snuggle with me was Charlie the cat. The copper Main Coon was sitting by the door awaiting my arrival.

My evenings were always the same. Check in with my mom for an hour on the phone. Make or order dinner, which tonight was ordering pizza for the leftovers tomorrow. Turning on my favorite TV show, Supernatural, on Netflix and working on one of my millions of fanfics.

“Yes, stay in complete denial by hiding in your fantasy worlds and falling in love with fictional characters. Loser.”

I pushed my inner thoughts to the very back of my mind and focused on my current series I was writing. Pulling up Tumblr, I looked in my notifications seeing someone binge reading my masterlist. My heart always swelled with joy whenever someone took the time to read my writings. This person was also leaving feedback as well.

“ChevyMan67: I love this version of Dean! You truly have captured his personality and sarcasm.”

“ChevyMan67: I can’t get enough of this series! Please tell me there is more to come. I need to know if Dean finally falls in love and gets his apple pie life.”

I read through every comment and looked at every GIF the reader posted. I hit follow on his blog then took a few screenshots from my activity page, pulling up a blank post adding the pictures.

“Thank you to @ChevyMan67 for binging my stories! Your feedback means everything to me!”

As soon as I posted it there was a notification of a reblog from him. He posted a GIF of Dean screaming with #Fangirling flashing underneath. My cheeks ached from the unusual tension of a genuine smile spreading across my face.

Online I could be anyone I wanted. I would virtual hug and blow kisses at my friends. I was able to be more like the woman I was. Social, happy, carefree, open to others. I could be the woman I desperately wanted to be but my mind would not allow.

“Stay guarded. Remember what happened when you trusted him? Trusted his family? Never again. You promised never again.”

My indeed guard held the line at the gate of my mind. She stood in full armor and shield ready to throw off anyone that even attempted to break through to the part of me that desired to be a whole person again. I shook my head with a firm nod and reaffirmed my promise to myself to never let anyone that close to me again.

As I was closing down her computer for the evening, a ding caught my attention as a message came from Tumblr. Opening the window, I saw a DM from my newest follower.

“Hey there, I just wanted to say thank you for following me. Apparently I’m a rarity on here for being male and a fan of Supernatural. I truly love all your writings and can’t wait to read more. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better and become friends. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. Message me any time. Goodnight.”

I re-read the message several times before closing my computer. Sure I had people message me for small talk and a few close friends I had on there. This felt different. Something deep within me sparked and I did not know how to react. There was only one person I knew I could go to and her reaction was more frightening than the thought of responding to ChevyMan67. That night was the first of many restless nights for me.

A week later, I finally sat down and responded to him.

“Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. I’m… well, I’m not used to talking to guys here. I think it’s great that you’re on here and reading, BTW. I’m working on a few pieces right now, maybe you could beta for me if you have time. I hope we can be friends as well. Have a good weekend!”

I was nearly hyperventilating when I hit enter sending the message. I tried to work on my newest one shot story and ignore my anxious heart awaiting for the ding. It was not until I was in bed watching my favorite episode of Supernatural that my phone chimed.

“Tumblr: Message from ChevyMan67”

My finger hovered for a moment before opening the app. The message opened and I let out a air I had been holding in my chest.

“No worries. Everyone is busy and has their “real life” to attend too. I work odd hours and days all the time so I get it. I would LOVE to beta for you!!!! Reading your work before it’s posted online? HELL YEAH! I feel honored you asked and I’m fanboying hard right now. Crap… that sounded… I mean. Sorry lol. You can send your fics to ChevyMan67@gmail.com. Looking forward to hearing from you again.”

Over the next six months, Ross and I talked throughout our days getting to know one another. Three month into Tumblr messenger and dumb updates, he gave me his cell number to text one another. At times, I would have to catch myself from laughing while my students took a test. Everyone around me started to notice the small changes in me. Smiling more, talking more and one student commented on me wearing bright colors.

“You look good in yellow Miss (Y/L/N).”

However it was Sami who demanded to know all about the changes going on with me. We sat at our favorite restaurant, the first round of drinks being set in front of us. After the waiter took our order, Sami began her interrogation.

“Tell. Me. Everything. You’ve been keeping me at bay and I’ve respected your space, but you have seemingly blossomed in the last few months. Spill.”

I bit my lower lip as my phone sounded with an all to familiar chime. I went to grab my phone when Sami placed her hand over it, “Me first. Tumblr second.”

“It’s not Tumblr. Let me reply to him and then I will tell you everything.” I dared to look up to see my best friend’s face frozen in shock.

Her eyes wide and mouth gaping, “Him?!”

I nodded reading Ross’s message, “Hey I know you’re out with Sami and going to tell her about little ole me. I just wanted to make sure you were still thinking about what I asked last night. Can’t wait to hear from you soon. Not now though, have fun with Sami.”

I smiled, locking my phone and putting it in my purse looking back to my ridiculously happy friend, “His name is Ross.”

There was a loud, attention grabbing squeal from her as I shushed her, “Leave out no details…” she rested her perfect chin on her folded hands.

I told her all about Ross and how we began talking. I told her everything I knew about him and what he knew about me. Finally, as our food came out and drinks were refilled, I told her about what he had dropped on me the previous night.

“He asked me to meet him at the Supernatural Convention in Dallas next month. He already has the passes paid for and a few photo ops that we could share.” My heart raced at the thought of meeting Ross and meeting my favorite celebrities all at the same time.

Sami’s smile faded slightly, “Does he know about your struggles with being touched?”

I nodded, “It was one of the first personal things I told him. He’s still talking to me so I took that as a frightening good sign.”

“What are you feeling?” her point blank question shook me for a moment.

My fingers drummed against the table, “I’m nervous, scared, anxious…” I paused for a moment before looking up at her with a smile.

“I’m also excited, hopeful and curious.”

Sami held out her hands to me, palms up and I hesitantly placed my hands in hers. It was something we had been working on for the last couple of months. This was the first time I allowed her to squeeze my hands.

“You really like him.” She whispered smiling like a fool.

I felt my own smile mirroring hers, “Yes I do and that scares me shitless.”

The rest of the evening felt like the old days before my life fell apart. When I got home, I decided to test my luck. Pulling up Ross’s number, my thumb hovered over it until I smashed it hearing it ringing.

“Well hello, this is a surprise.” His velvety smooth voice sent shivers down my body, “Take a deep breath and know it’s okay if you hang up to just text me.”

“N-No, I’ll be okay.” I stammered as he let out a low chuckle.

I could hear him moving away from other voices around him, “I interrupted something…” Guilt and shame weighing my shoulders down.

“Not at all. They can wait, you calling me is an important moment. Not everyday, I get to speak to my favorite writer on the phone.” His compliments calmed my queasy stomach, “Could I be so hopeful that this phone call is working up to a good answer?”

I took a deep breath in and let out slowly, “Yes.” The word seems foregin to her as it left my lips.

“Yes I can be hopeful or yes to my question?” His jovial banter eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Yes.” I tried to sound a little more confident, my heart beating against my chest.

There was a moment of silence before loud cheering and yelling came through her speaker. His excitement was silenced by my own unfamiliar laughter. Suddenly I was hyper aware that he was no longer making any noises. Panic and fear swelling inside me.

A soft sigh came from him, “You have a beautiful laugh. I can’t wait to hear it again.”

My cheeks burned, “Thank you.”

Ross told me he would send all the details for our trip and that I was not to worry about money of any kind. Mentally, I began planning out how to save as much money as I could in the next four weeks. Thankfully, my savings was built up enough to take a small hit and not dip into her emergency fund. Over the next several weeks, I began to prepare for my first convention, first time meeting an online friend, first time traveling by myself, first time facing the unknown in five years.

The morning of my travel day, I went over to Sami’s house with Charlie. I was surprised to see her sister sitting there. She waved to me before taking Charlie’s crate.

“What’s going on?” I looked around seeing Sami’s suitcase packed by the door.

She smiled, “Your friend Ross, reached out to me.”

The color from my face drained for a moment, “H-He did… How?”

“He found me on your Instagram page. DM me asking me to join you on your trip. Stating and I quote, ‘I know you being there with (Y/N) will make her more comfortable. I want this weekend to go as comfortably as possible for her. I know it’s a big step and I want her to be taken care of.’”

She smiled softly as my vision blurred from tears slipping down my face, “Oh… wow.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing (Y/N/N). If you were ever going to work on overcoming your touch aversion this would be the man to do it for.” Sami turned around to help her sister, leaving me to my own thoughts.

“Absolutely not! There is no way he is getting through my defenses. I have held strong for five years. Your heart and mind are safe within my holds.”

“Do you really think he’s going to want to touch you? Look at yourself. Lumpy. Chunky. Squishy. Dull (Y/C/H) hair. Boring (Y/C/E) eyes. Not even a decent pair of boobs or ass. You’re nothing special. Always remember that you’re nothing special.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) stop it.” Sami’s voice rang clear bringing me back to the present.

I nodded slowly, “Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Freaked out. We will work through it. Sara is gonna drive us to the airport and we have an hour to chat. Okay?”

It was in the moment that I noticed my best friend had absentmindedly placed her hand on my shoulder and I did not flinch. My eyes looked to her hand and back to her, “You’re touching my shoulder.”

“Crap, I’m so sor…” she started to say but my bright smile stopped her, “What?”

I placed my hand on top of hers, “I didn’t flinch or move or even notice you did it.”

Now her smile was matching mine and we had a moment of pure excitement jumping around each other. True to her word, we spent the hour on the plane doing some meditative exercises. I thanked every high power who would listen for my best friend getting her psychology degree.

There was a man waiting with our names on a piece of paper. He took our bags and drove us to a  hotel near where the convention was being held. Sami checked us in since there were so many people inside and my anxiety started to flare up.

Breathe in counting to six. Breathe out counting to six.

I repeated my breathing exercise until Sami returned her brow furrowed, “What is it?”

“I don’t know who Ross knows, but he must be connected in some way. We have a suite on the fourteenth floor.”

My jaw dropped slightly before I stood up bracing myself for the next hurdle of getting through the elevator ride. Luckily, there were only two other girls in the car and I could safely keep my distance from them.

“I heard that Jensen is staying at this hotel.” One mentioned as the other rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right. This is Dallas, I’m sure he’s probably staying with his family or something.”

The girls exit on the eighth floor and before the doors could close Sami and I were chuckling to ourselves. The chances of Jensen Ackles staying at this hotel would be astronomical. The car dinged for the top floor and opened to a small hallway. When we opened the door to our suite neither of us spoke.

Sami walked throughout the entire room before I could even move from the entryway, “This room is amazing! Check out the view we have (Y/N).”

“Hold on. Having a moment.” I breathed as Sami came to my side and I held my hand out, “I’m fine. Just need a moment to make sure this is real and not a dream.”

I watched as she walked over to the coffee table where there was a gift basket and she held up a small notecard, “Oh it’s real.”

“(Y/N) and Sami, I hope you love your room. Enjoy your night and order anything you want. The front desk knows it’s all on my tab. I’m hoping you both will join me for dinner tomorrow night after registration. Sadly, my job won’t let me leave before then. I look forward to meeting you both. -R PS: I highly recommend the spa and they have a large private jacuzzi just for you, (Y/N).”

Sami sighed, “I really hope he has a single brother, cousin, friend that is like him for me.”

I rolled my eyes walking over to the large windows looking out. Flashes of the last time I was in Dallas popping into my mind. I shivered as the one voice I hated yelled loudly in my ears. My hands covered them and I felt Sami tap my shoulder twice. For the first time, in several years, I reached out to her and gripped her arms.

“(Y/N) remember why we’re here. Remember talking with Ross on the phone. The tone of Ross’s voice. His laughter.” Her calm tone eased me out of the wretched memory.

She guided me over to the couch and went to get me a glass of water. I sipped it slowly before squeezing her hand, “Thank you.”

“You know, I can get used to you reaching out to me. Feels like the (Y/N) I knew coming back.” Sami squeezed my hand back before I let slip from her grasp.

She was right, the woman I once was before my ex was fighting her way to get out again. Still, my guard was up standing fortified at the gate.

That evening was a girls’ night of epic proportions. They went to the spa where (Y/N) sat in her private jacuzzi while Sami received the best massage of her life. Afterwards, we ordered our dinner from room service making moderate choices since neither of us were paying. When our food came there was a special dessert also with another note.

“A little birdy told me that your favorite dessert was French Silk pie. I wanted you to have a slice and some New York Style cheesecake for Sami. Have a wonderful night.”

Sami whistled, “Man, he has it bad for you.”

“Shut up.” I muttered lifting the dome to see a delicious slice of pie.

As they ate and talked, Sami took my phone taking pictures of them enjoying a very Sam and Dean style dinner. Sami having a Chef’s salad with honey mustard dressing. I took a picture of my dinner sending it to Ross with a text saying thank you.

“Dean would be proud! That bacon cheeseburger looks good. Enjoy!”

I smiled the entire time I ate my burger. Finishing out meals, Sami hooked up her laptop putting on Supernatural. I decided to try and work on some stories when a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I looked up to the screen as Dean began to talk. I closed my eyes listening carefully to his voice. The low tone and smoothness of it. It was the way he said the word writer that had my eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping my lips.

“What? What is it?” Sami sat up concerning filling her eyes.

Like pieces to a puzzle everything snapped into place. All the small details that would go unnoticed by someone who would never expect it. Sami tapped my shoulder and I turned to her with wide eyes.

“Ross… that’s Jensen’s middle name.” I mumbled reaching for my phone.

Sami stood up pausing the episode, “Okay… what are you getting at.”

“Listen.” I played for her the voicemail he had left a few days earlier, “Now play the episode.”

Sami’s eyes connected to her, “No way.”

“Ross is Jensen Ackles.”

That night my dreams were filled with my ex yelling at me. Fat shaming me. Calling me a loser. Calling me useless for not being able to bear children. His looming form made me coward into a ball on the floor. I woke up several times during the night, the final time close to six in the morning. Sami was peacefully sleeping on her side of the bed.

I picked up my phone going into the living area and dialing the all too familiar number. On the third ring she was going to hang up, but then his groggy voice pierced my ears.

“(Y/N), is everything alright?” All I could hear was Dean, which meant that it was truly Jensen on the other side.

“You tell me, Jensen.” I heard him sit up as I began to pace near the window.

A long sigh came from him, “I knew you would figure it out before meeting me.”

I scoffed, “Is this some kind of celebrity joke or prank? Pretend to be someone’s friend and embarrass them when they meet you.”

My guard was shaking her head muttering, “Told you so…”

“No, (Y/N) it’s nothing like that. Misha had read some of your stories and suggested I should read them. At first, I thought it would be weird because I’ve never read fanfiction before, but your writing… it drew me in.” His words came out all in one breath.

I froze, “M-Misha read my stories? Oh god…” My body burned from embarrassment.

“Honestly, there’s not a person on our crew that hasn’t read at least one of your stories. You’re talented and the way you write for the boys is amazing. Our own writer’s are impressed with your talent.”

I groaned slumping down to the floor, “This was all a mistake.” The last thing I heard before ending the call was rustling around as if Jensen was moving from his bed.

My phone slipped from my hand as tears streamed down my face. I closed my eyes allowing my inner voices to consume me. Dragging me down into the darkness.

“You fool! Here I stood guarding you from this and still you allowed someone in. You deserve what is coming to you!”

“You useless piece of nothing! You’re the biggest joke this world ever created. Fat, ugly, even your body can’t do the one basic thing god made it to do. You’re worthless. Sucking up air that could be used on someone contributing to the world. No matter what anyone says you will always be the biggest failure in this world. You. Are. Nothing.”

I felt someone tapping on my shoulder and I tightened myself into a ball, “Go away Sami.”

The tapping continued and I reached out grasping an unfamiliar hand. My eyes snapped open and were met with concerning, piercing olive eyes. The eyes I stared at for hours on my TV. The eyes I wrote about in hundreds of thousands of words online.

As soon as my eyes opened he withdrew his hand and my heart sank further into darkness, “I told you. He will never want to touch your disgusting body.” The snide voice of my inner self whispered.

“(Y/N), please hear me out. Please for five minutes just listen to my side.” He sat across from me leaving a foot of distance between us.

I nodded looking up as Sami gently touched his shoulder, “I will be just outside if you need me.”

He waited for the door to close to start talking. His large hands rubbing against his cotton covered thighs.

“I started reading your masterlist on Tumblr and couldn’t get enough of your stories. I didn’t know exactly how to work Tumblr so Misha showed me how. I noticed you don’t get a lot of notes and I wanted everyone to notice you. I started sharing your work with everyone after sending you that message.”

He paused for a moment as I fidget with the hem of my shirt, “Why did you message me?”

His smile was more radiant in person, “It’s just as I said. I loved your work and I wanted to be friends. However, the more I got to know you… the more I wanted to meet you in person. I knew that would be problematic.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I scoffed looking down to my hands.

He inhaled a deep breath, “You connect with Dean Winchester the same way I do. To find someone like that is a once in a lifetime chance. I want someone who I can gush over Dean with because soon I won’t be hanging out with him as much and he’s the best imaginary friend I’ve ever had.”

Seeing Jensen open himself up to me was creating a battle of mind and body within me. He was just as nervous as I was to open up to someone else. Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my isolation. My hand trembled as I reached over placing it atop of his.

“Dean Winchester saved my life and I don’t mean that figuratively. I was on the verge of leaping into darkness when I found him getting Sammy to find their dad. I found the strength to carry on because I knew that was what Dean would do. I found that being broken wasn’t a bad thing but something that could drive you to keep working. Dean helped me to feel again when I had become numb to the world around me.”

His eyes shined as I spoke trying to hold back his own tears, “I’m glad he could be there for you when you needed him the most.”

“Then you came into my life when I least expected it.” I whispered as I squeezed his hand.

My mind was screaming at me to get as far away from him as I possibly could. To call out to Sami to make him leave and move out of the state disappearing from the world. However, my body was urging me to jump into his arms. To open myself up to him as he had done with me. I felt like a spring coil ready to snap. My mind was holding my body back waiting for my consciousness to make a decision.

And she did.

I launched myself into his arms startling him as we crashed to the floor. His arms instinctively wrapped around me as mine encircled his neck. The door flew open as Sami came rushing in as Jensen’s laughter filled the room. I hugged him tighter to me as he tightened his grip around me.

“Oh my god… (Y/N), you’re hugging him.”

I did not need to open my eyes to know tears were slipping down my best friend’s cheeks. Her voice was thick with utter joy and amazement.

“Does this hug mean that you don’t hate me?” His question caught me off guard.

Jensen’s hands kept me in place as he sat up swinging my legs across his. My arms are still around his neck not wanting to lose the connection. Now that my body was against his, it flooded with the strange feeling of desire. Sami joined them on the floor sitting cross legged in front of them.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you. Though I’m still upset you lied to me.” I rested my head on my arm and against the side of his neck.

Feeling him sigh and seeing Sami grinning, I knew this was a big moment for all of us. We sat on the floor for another hour talking before Jensen had to go back to his room to get ready for the day. Neither of us wanted to let go of the other. He hugged me one last time before walking out of the suite. When I turned around I was immediately engulfed into another hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Sami squealed.

“Thanks, I think…” My sentence drifted and she pulled away from me.

I walked back toward the bed and flopped face first onto it. I felt her crawl up on the bed beside me knowing me well enough to give me space.

“Talk it out, (Y/N). What are you feeling?”

My cheeks burned from the first feeling to pop into my head, “I feel warm, anxious, happy...” I paused gathering the courage to say the last word, “desire.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Sami eagerly asked.

I sat up, “Desire.” Saying the very word felt weird.

She began to clap and raised her hands in the air, “Praise the lord!”

“Don’t get all weird about it. I don’t know what any of this means. My body is tingling…”

Sami interrupted, “I bet it does…”

“Shut up, mostly not in that way. I don’t know how to act around other people anymore. What is too much touching? What is too little? What does a hug mean? I have too many questions and all the answers just walked out the door.”

I looked over as my phone chimed seeing a message from Ross, “I guess I need to change that now.” I murmured as I pulled up his message.

“First, thank you for trusting me with a hug. It means the world to me. I wanted to know if you wanted to have an early lunch with me? We could eat in my room or restaurant or your room with Sami. Whatever you are most comfortable with. Let me know.”

I held my phone up for Sami to read and she jumped off the bed, “You can have our room. I will go entertain myself by the pool.”

I texted him back that he could come to my room as Sami began tossing clothes out on the bed, “What are you doing?”

“Finding you the perfect outfit. Now go shower so I can play dress up with you.” She clapped her hands excitedly as I groaned loudly.

Looking in the mirror again, I pulled at the shirt clingy to every soft, round surface of my waist. I pushed my stomach watching as it bounced back into place like jello. Turning to the side, I sucked as many rolls as I could inward, holding my breath. The air rushed from my lips as a knock came from the door. Making my way towards it, I grabbed my zip-up hoodie slipping my arms in it quickly.

“Hi.” The word came out more breathlessly than I wanted.

My inner voice whispering, “Yeah fatty, let him know that walking across the room makes you lose your breath.”

“Hey there, I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and grabbed lunch for us.” Jensen held up a paper bag from a local sandwich spot.

As he walked in, I took a moment to truly admire him. He looked like a male model in his tight dark jeans, black boots, dark olive Henley and sunglasses resting on top of his unruly, sandy brown hair. His smooth voice caught my attention.

“You could take a picture and it would last longer.” He chuckled sitting down on the couch and laying out their lunch.

I sat on the opposite side of him as far away as I could. Even though my body desperately wanted to be closer to him, I kept my distance not pushing my mental capacity. He glanced over a hint of disappointment in his eyes seeing me so far away.

Jensen slid a sandwich towards me, “I remember you telling me that you love ham and swiss with tomato.”

“Thank you.” I unwrapped the sandwich and grabbed a bag of chips.

We ate in silence as a strange tension built between us. My stomach churning to the point I could no longer eat. I would look over to him out of the corner of my eye to find his eyes drifting over me. I wrapped my hoodie around me instinctively trying to hide the imperfections.

“There’s no hoodie big enough to hide your ugliness.” The familiar voice whispered.

I shook my head when I heard music playing, looking back to Jensen. He smiled sheepishly as he set his phone on the table.

“I thought maybe some background noise would help,” He stood up clearing the food from the table then stood in front of me with his hand out, “Trust me?”

His eyes were shining from the afternoon rays of sun coming from the window and his lips were spread in a gentle smile. I exhaled slowly allowing all the tension to leave my body and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up from the couch taking my hands and placing them behind his neck. His large hands slid down my sides to my hips and I flinched.

“You do know that you’re beautiful, right?” He whispered swaying my body with the music.

I shook my head, “I’m really not. Ordinary at best.”

Jensen lifted my chin, piercing (Y/C/E) meeting , “You are far from ordinary, (Y/N).”

“You’re just being kind.” I looked away as he slowly turned us in a circle.

The music continued but Jensen stopped moving, “I have so many questions but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or have you running to the hills.”

“Questions for me? Surely, you have better things to do with your time other than sitting inside with me. Don’t you have fans to entertain?” I smirked.

He chuckled, “Lucky for you, I happen to have the day off. I normally spend the day with my family. However this year they all ditched me.”

I mockingly acted shocked, “Oh no! You poor thing.”

His eyes narrowed in on me before laughing, “My mom and dad are somewhere in Spain enjoying their anniversary gift. My sister decided a girls trip with her best friends was better than hanging with me for the day. My brother is always busy with his family. You’re stuck with me.”

“I guess there’s worse ways to spend my day. Okay, ask away but I’m not promising I’ll answer them all.”

Jensen led me back to the couch, but kept ahold of my hand as we sat back down. He laced his long fingers with mine. His thumb brushing over my knuckle. I settled back against the couch once again wrapping my hoodie around me.

“What were you thinking when I put my hands on your hips earlier?”

I bit my lower lip, “I was mortified that you were touching my squish rolls of skin. I was thinking you must be disgusted by it.”

“Wow…” He squeezed my hand, “Whoever he was he really did a number on you. If I ask his name and address would you be against me and Jared beating the crap out of him?”

A genuine burst of laughter echoed in the room, “He’s really not worth it. Plus, he is much happier with his life now and that’s all that matters. He deserves to be happy.”

I was surprised to see Jensen face scrunched up in anger, “But you don’t?” He leaned in slightly, his features softening.

“No, I don’t.” The words came out without even a second thought and seeing Jensen recoil from them as if they had slapped him in the face twisted my heart.

His tongue darted out over his lips and the electrical energy between us sparked wildly, “You’re wrong. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Any man who told you otherwise is no man at all.”

He was leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounding in my ears and my body urging me to meet him in the middle. His forehead pressed against mine and his nose caressed mine.

“I’m going to kiss you.” he whispered.

“I don’t think I remember how to kiss back.” The pathetic confession was followed by a wayward tear slipping down my cheek.

His soft, full lips pressed gently against mine. My mind searched for the file within the long abandoned cabinets for how to kiss someone. He pulled away for a split second only to return his lips to mine. I found my lips pushing against his out of basic instinct. Our lips melded together for a moment before I felt him smile against mine.

His hands cupping my face, “I think it will all come back to you easier than you may think.”

I took in a deep breath letting it out in a short burst, “I think you believe in me too much for only meeting me a few hours ago.”

Jensen was still holding my face as he leaned back, “Other than Jared and Mish, I have never felt closer to anyone, but you.”

“You have your work cut out for you then,” I pointed to my head, “because it’s a nightmarish mess up in here.”

He leaned in kissing me once again, “You are worth every second of being with you because you’re stunning, smart, talented, caring and most of all you’re beautiful inside and out.”

I stared up at him speechless as my inner guard laid down her shield, “I like this one.”

“No… no one has ever said that about me. I-I don’t know what to say or how to react.” I stammered, unable to comprehend what he said.

He smiled widely, “Get used to that feeling because I’m preparing for you to feel that way a lot. Now, I don’t want to test your boundaries too much so I think we should hang out here and watch a movie.”

Jensen moved to the end of the couch resting his arm along the back of it and propping his feet on the table. For the first time in forever, there were no inner voices to keep me from doing what I desperately wanted. I moved over next to him resting my back into his side and stretching my legs out to the other end of the couch. His arm draped over the front of my chest and his fingertips brushed against my side.

This time there was no flinching and I smiled at the small victory.

The rest of the weekend was like a dream. Seeing the convention backstage, meeting all the rest of the other actors on the show and most of all Jensen’s constant touch comforted me throughout it all. Sami beaming with pride as I pushed myself to be in the crowd for the concert on Saturday. When Sunday came, I found myself riddled with sadness knowing I would have to leave this magical weekend behind.

Sami had decided to go back to the hotel while I waited for Jensen to finish his autographs. I had noticed Clif, the boys’ friend and bodyguard, staying close by me. When the last fan left the autograph room, he motioned for me to follow him. Entering the room, I found Jensen with his head down on his table while Jared and Misha were fooling around at theirs.

Walking up, I slid my hands over his shoulders and began rubbing the knots out of them. A small groan escaping his lips sent a wave of desire over my body. I moved my hands down his back eagerly wanting to hear him again.

“Hey, if you’re giving free massages away I’ll take one!” Jared called out.

Jensen’s head snapped up, “Don’t even think about it Padalecki. Her hands are too precious for your sweaty self.”

I chuckled as he stood up letting my hands drift down his back. I knew he was fit but his body was firm and lean in all the right spots. As he moved away I found my fingers stretching out to touch him again. All weekend I had found myself craving his touch. My mind was obsessively thinking about his hand in mine or my arms around his waist or his hands gripping my hips. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I heard him chuckle.

“You okay? You kind of spaced out for a moment.”

I nodded smiling, “I’m great. Just thinking was all.”

“Well come on, you and I can grab something to eat then hang out in my room.” His arm slipped around my shoulders and instantly I relaxed into his embrace.

Dinner was unexpectedly crashed by Jared and Misha tagging along. We found a twenty-four hours diner near the hotel that was nearly empty and we all spent a few hours talking, laughing. I could not help the sadness creeping over me as the minutes passed by. Minutes I was losing to have Jensen to myself. As if he read my mind he excused us to head back to the hotel.

We walked in silence, hand in hand. Stepping into the elevator, he pulled me into his side and I wrapped my arms around his waist. His room was on the opposite end of the same hall as mine. Stepping inside, the door clicking shut as we stood across from one another. It was like a shotgun going off as Jensen closed the distance between us. His hands sliding down my body as his mouth crashed to mine.

As suddenly as it happened, it was over.

“I’m sorry… shit. (Y/N) I’m really sorry.” His pleads confused me for a moment.

Breathing heavily as he stepped back further from me I blurted out, “W-Why are you apologizing? D-Did I do something wrong?”

His dark forest eyes snapped up, “You do something… you didn’t do anything but be you, (Y/N). I just couldn’t stop myself. This weekend has been the best one in my life. Being around you, holding your hand, kissing you has rejuvenated me. I just want more of you, all of you. Simple looks you give, the way you hold yourself and the moment you open yourself up to reach out to me. I just found myself unable to hold back anymore. I know…”

This time it was me who closed the distance between us. My lips crashing into his. My hands running up his broad chest and into his soft hair. The soft moan escaping my lips as we parted.

“I want you to have me…” I whispered in between breaths, “I’m nervous with a bunch of what ifs running in my head.”

“Do you trust me?” The corner of his lip curling upward.

“Yes.”

Jensen took my hand leading me into the bedroom of his suite. He gently picked me up and sat me on the bed. He knelt in front of me, slipping my shoes from my feet then pulling my socks off. His thumbs pressing into the bottom of my feet as I began to giggle.

“Oh… now that is an amazing sound. I must hear that again.” He smirked, tickling my feet.

I fell back in a fit of giggles as Jensen’s laughter joined mine. I leaned up on my elbows looking down at Jensen resting his chin on my knee. He lifted his brows asking permission and I nodded. His hands drifted over my calves, up to my knees and over my thighs.

“You have incredible legs. I found myself staring at them as you would walk in front of me with Sami. Wondering how they would feel beneath my hands.” He gently squeezed them near my hips.

His knee pressed into the mattress between my legs as his firm body hovered over mine. My fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt pushing it up and hesitantly touching his stomach. Jensen sucked in a quick breath as his hands paused on his hips. I focused on the feeling of his smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips. His flat stomach is surprisingly soft.  

I grasped the end of his shirt pulling it towards his head as he pulled back allowing it over his head. Taking it from my hands, he tossed it on the floor. I took in every inch of his skin from his muscles flexing to the freckles decorating it.

“You beautiful, you know that?” I did not think he heard me until I saw the smug smirk on his face.

He leaned down kissing me, “Stealing my lines, sweetheart.”

His hands went back to my hips as his lips left a trail of kisses down my neck, “You think that your softness is revolting, but I find it inviting.”

I froze as his hand pushed up into my shirt touching my stomach. I squirmed as he pushed my shirt up just under my bra. My hands threading through his hair as his lips pressed small kisses against my stomach.

“Jensen…” The tension in my tone caught his attention.

His eyes filled with worry, “Too much?”

I took a few deep breaths and shook my head, “I’m fine, promise.”

“See there you go, being brave and pushing yourself. You have no idea how sexy that is.” He murmured against my skin.

As Jensen’s mouth neared the waistband of my jeans, I tugged his hair motioning for him to come back up to her. He smiled randomly kissing spots along my body. His lips finally met mine as I slid my arms around him. His tongue swiped across my bottom lip as they parted for him. His gentleness and care to make me comfortable broke down the last existing wall of defense.

Their kiss deepened. My body burned with a need to feel Jensen’s skin against mine and to be close to him in every way physically possible. Foreign pressure began to simmer deep within me and I lifted my hips pressing them against his thigh.

He pulled away his eyes blown with passion searching mine for an answer to a silent question.

“Please… take away everything he did. I want to feel whole again.” I pleaded just above a whisper.

His lips were on mine again as he gently lifted me up further onto his bed. Sitting up, I pulled my shirt over my head holding it in front of me for a brief moment. His eyes watching my every move as I tossed it over the side. He reached behind me with one hand unclasping my bra in one swift movement.

I kissed his collarbone as he leaned in to do so, “Show off.”

He chuckled before leaning back and allowing me at my pace to unveiling my bare chest to him. I slid the straps down my arms holding it in place before playfully tossing it at him chuckling. Joking had always been my way of dealing with uncomfortable moments. When I looked up his eyes were drifting down my bare upper body.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He smirked as I rolled my eyes at him, “Seriously, (Y/N)... you’re absolutely stunning.”

He ran his hand down my chest, between my breasts and down to my jeans. He undid the button and slowly drew down the zipper. Hooking his fingers with a belt loops dragging my jeans down my legs. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin. Jensen tossed them off to the side then began to place gentle, open mouth kisses up my leg.

My breaths were coming out in small little puffs the further up my leg he got. His mouth hovered over her cotton cover mound inching closer to it. My teeth dug into my lip desperately wanting him to press them against me. Instead he kept his path up my body stopping at my breasts. He cupped the side of one running his thumb over my nipple.

A long sigh escaping my lips from just the slightest touch from him, “O-Oh… Jensen…” His mouth had gently suckled my other nipple, the pressure turning to an ache between my legs.

“You have no idea hearing my name from your lips does to me.” He softly said before circling my nipple with his tongue.

Feeling bold, I slid my hand down between us running it along the hard bulge being restrained by denim. Jensen sucked in a sharp breath dropping his head between my breasts, “Shit…”

“I believe I have some kind of an idea.” I smiled as he grinded himself against my palm.

He stood up at the edge of the bed, his intense stare making me tremble with anticipation. Leaning forward, his fingers hooked the sides of her cotton panties and pulled them down until they were on the floor.

“Exquisite, flawless, perfect.”

“As are you.” I sat up until I was sitting on the edge in front of him.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully unzipped them. Jensen let out a soft hiss as I brushed against his length. His hands cupped my face pulling my lips to his urgently kissing me. I pushed his jeans and boxers down as far as I could before he pushed me back onto the mattress. His hand drifting down my body until his fingers pressed against my folds.

“Jensen, please…” I begged needing to feel any kind of relief from the pressure pulsating from between my legs, “Ohhh… god.”

Jensen began to rub lazy circles against my clit. My hips grinding against his hand as his lips pressed just below my ear, “Are you okay?”

His question sober me from the drunken stupor of desire and I placed my hand over his pushing down further, “More than okay.”

Jensen pushed one long finger deep inside me with a hiss, “Fuck pretty girl, your so tight.” He slowly pushed a second finger inside.

My head pressed against the mattress, my back arching as he pumped his thick fingers in me, “More, oh please Jensen, I need more.”

His pace picked up and I looked up to his face. His eyes wide and dark watching me come undone as his thumb rubbed harshly against my throbbing clit, “Jensen!” I cried out overwhelming pleasure wrecked through my body.

Breathing heavily, my body shaking slightly as he pulled his fingers from me, “Now that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

A slow grin spread across my face as I pulled his mouth to mine. He positioned himself between my legs pulling away slightly, his lips grazing against mine.  

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want.” Jensen’s tone was tense as I felt his length resting against my folds.

I kissed him, “I need you. All of you.”

He braced himself up with one arm as his hand slipped between us. Jensen ran the swollen head along my slickness before nudging it against my entrance. The room filled with groans and heavy breaths as Jensen slowly sheathed himself within me. There was a singe of pain as I stretched taking him his thick length but quickly was replaced with immense pleasure as he thrusted gently into me.

“So. Tight.” He panted against my cheek.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him digging my heels into him. Each stroke pushing me further to the edge. Feeling every muscle straining along his back and arms. His head buried in the crook of my neck grunting almost painfully. I knew then he was holding back.

I pressed my lips to his ear, “Jensen, I won’t break. You’re making me feel incredible, but I want you to let go. Show me how I make you feel.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he nipped at my neck and his hips snapped against me. The echoes of our skin meeting, loving praises and the headboard against the wall filled the room. I started to meet each thrust of his, the coil within me ready to snap. His hands were gripping my shoulders holding me against his burning body. I clung to him scraping my nails against his back making him growl again.

“Shit Jensen, I’m so close. Just a little more, oh god please!” I beg as he thrusted into me feverishly small grunts coming from him, “Yes, yes, oh… Jensen!”

My whole body was shaking as an intense wave of euphoria covered me. Pulsating around him, he abandoned all control chasing his own release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gritted his teeth as his body went rigid before slamming into me his length twitching deep within me, “Holy shit…”

Jensen rode out his release, his arms shaking to the point he could not hold himself up anymore. I groaned as he pulled out leaving me empty. He rolled onto his back breathing heavily as I curled into his side burying my head into his chest.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His concern only made me cling to him more.

I shook my head, “No, I’m just overwhelmed. Too many feelings at once.”

“Talk it out. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Jensen wrapped his arms around me holding me close.

I took a deep breath, “I’m feeling exhilaration, bliss, pleasure. Right now, I’m feeling empty and it’s almost like I can’t breath. I feel scared by how much I need to feel your touch.”

His fingers were drawing small circles against my bare back, “If that’s your way of asking for round two, you’re going to have to wait for a little bit. I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.”

There was a brief moment of silence before I started to laugh. My body shaking from the laughter pouring from my lips. I kissed his chest, “Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me. It’s my honor to make you laugh. Bring your pleasure. Praise you for your beautifulness. More importantly, always holding you close to me.”

I entwined my legs with his as he pulled the sheet over our naked bodies. Just when I thought he was about to fall asleep, I slipped my hand over his soft member then pressed my lips just under his chin.

“Round two?”

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[6480n]

[ID in alt text]

Just finished this art of my OC, Jira! He’s my main OC and sort of serves as my persona in many cases, so I’m super excited to be able to share this drawing. Since this is my first time posting him on this blog, I’m going to talk about his history and share a *bunch* of drawings under the cut (as well as WIP images from this drawing).

Text on his shorts says เสือทอง, or “golden tiger”, and he’s carrying bagged soymilk with tapioca, which is a common way to get soymilk in thailand!

The idea for this drawing is one I’ve had in my head for a few months, but wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull off since I don’t have a lot of practice with perspective shots. I sort of wanted to give him a “casually defiant” look, as well as taking the opportunity to design a fun outfit based around colorful muay thai shorts. Unlike myself, I envision Jira as someone who primarily wears shorts (often with an incongruous top like a long coat), so I love designing his outfits because of the unique balance shorts give.

[ID: Two sketches from previous stages of the first drawing, one being a rough full-body sketch and the other being a refined sketch from the torso-up. end ID]

(^ I like his face in this sketch better than the final, lol…) I’m super happy with how this drawing turned out, especially the coloring and shading. I normally have the instinct to put my shading and highlights on another layer (borne from years of drawing art for petsites…), but I painted all the colors and shading on one layer and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I also added some sort of clip studio filter which gave everything a slight amount of color variance, which looks really cool!

Now, about the character himself: I made this guy back in about 2016 when I was getting back into Animal Crossing for the second time. I needed a secondary character for storage, so I invented Jira (who at the time was named 6480 since that was the username I was starting to switch over to), and gave him a connection to my then-main character (plum/Clove, who I’ll post about later) by way of a sort of flirty friendship. I thought it would be cool if they were like, friends who had houses on opposite sides of the same river and waved to each other and ate breakfast together and held hands and like….. yeah 🥺

Jira is super important to me for a ton of reasons, mostly because he developed as I grew up and the transition I made towards using him as my persona instead of Clove represented a lot of changes in my life and my personality. As he developed and I needed to name him, I decided to make him Thai (he started out inadvertently white cause there was only one skintone in ACNL… cringe), which marked a point in time where I became more invested in my cultural background. When I made him a trans man, it represented that I had become more comfortable and proud of my transness. His personality, which was more casual and open than Clove’s, marked the change in my own personality and growth in confidence. And I was able to explore my own ideals of relationships through the one he had with Clove.

Now, it’s 2020 and my new Animal Crossing game has him as my main character and Clove (as well as a couple others) as my alternate! I’m super glad to be able to look back on this and mark the ways I’ve changed over the years, and it’s really interesting that both of my personas since 2014 have been because of the AC franchise.

Here’s some sketches (I haven’t actually made formalized art of him until now, except for one drawing as an anthro monkey which I will not be sharing rofl):

[ID: Digital reference sheet for Jira in Animal Crossing style, in various different poses. He has tan skin and light brown hair. Text on the image says: name: 6480 gender: [male symbol] birthday: Oct 17th personality: smug occuption: barista hobbies: fishing, cooking, model making style: basic/iconic best friend: Lopez end ID]

Section of a reference sheet I made for my four ACNL characters, set inside the universe of my AC island.

[ID: Black and white digital sketch of an Animal Crossing character. He’s wearing a long coat, black shorts, and a cow skull on his head. He’s surrounded by a bunch of small mushrooms and weeds, and he’s carrying some fishing poles in a bag. end ID]

Drawing of my ACNH outfit as it was in April (autumn on my southern hemisphere island)

[ID: Colored digital sketch of two Animal Crossing characters. They’re sleeping in neighboring futons. One has pale skin, short yellow hair, and a sunhat, while the other has light brown skin and short brown curly hair. end ID]

Drawing of my ACNH character and my best friend’s :-)

[ID: Black and white sketches of Jira with more realistic proportions. In one he’s wearing a very similar outfit as the first image in this post; in the other he’s wearing a raincoat, a cowboy hat, and shorts that almost reach the hem of the coat. end ID]

[ID: Colored bust sketch of Jira in an orange shirt. end ID]

Aaaaand I think that’s all the good art I have of him. I’m not expecting anyone to have read this far but uhm THANK YOU if you did… you’re my number 1 fan… Don’t judge what I said in this post too harshly, *so what* if I base my personality around a character that only exists in my own head? 😭 Anyways, have a great day, and thanks for reading my rambling!

[daisiesforlacey]

clouds - chapter 3 : stratus

Pair : Julie x Alive!Luke

Summary : After her mother’s death, Julie Molina moved away from Hollywood, across the country, to Ithaca, New York. She’s left behind her two loves in life: her best friend, Luke, and her music. There, she finds new friends and enemies, new experiences and joys, she might even find herself. Every night, Luke calls Julie to talk about the clouds. But what if Luke is hiding something?

Word Count : 5,061

Warnings : mild swearing

Notes : Ok so chapters will be around 3k to 5k words, the first one was just an outlier lol. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please please comment and like; feedback means the world to me

Masterlist

Taglist

---

Julie had been finishing up her toast and orange juice with her brother, bleary eyed and barely functional, when Flynn strutted herself into her house with a shout. She dropped her backpack on the ground unceremoniously by the doorway. 

“Good morning Molina household!” She called, “I’m here to kidnap one of you!” Flynn walked into the kitchen before sliding into the bar stool between Julie and Carlos and taking a piece of toast for herself. She shoved it down her throat with remarkable speed before turning Julie’s brother. 

“I was over here in 43 seconds, a new record.”

Carlos nodded his head, impressed, “What was your time to beat, 55 seconds?” 

“Yep. Next time, I just have to remember not to take the stairs so fast.” She rubbed her knee with a grimace.

Julie got up to put her now empty glass in the sink with a clink, “I don’t understand how you two get up in the morning all happy and stuff. There must be something wrong, because it’s not genetic.”

Flynn had now stolen what was left of Carlos’ breakfast, her mouth full while she talked, “Cheer up, we have at least 20 minutes before we have to leave, so you have plenty of time to become a functional human being.” 

“She’s never a functional human being,” Carlos retorted. Flynn smirked as Julie shot a glare at the two of them, now leaning on the counter

“You’re not allowed to be on his side. It’s against the rules.”

Flynn only shrugged, “Rules were meant to be broken.”

Julie crossed her arms, but she was smiling, “Says who?”

“Says me, the rule maker supreme. My word is law. Right, Carlos?” Flynn didn’t even have to look at him as they fist bumped. 

“Right.”

Julie groaned and pushed herself off of the counter top, “Ignoring the heartbreaking betrayal that just went down, Flynn do you remember when I told you I had something to show you?”

Flynn nodded passively. 

“Well I think it was in the garage.” Julie grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the back door, “Carlos, can you finish cleaning up? This is super important.”

Julie heard her brother grumble about stupid sisters and their secrets before getting up to put the rest of the dishes in the sink. 

Julie had texted Flynn after last night’s conversation with Luke to come over a little earlier than normal. She had said that she found something in the garage last night; she didn’t know yet if she would be able to play her piano, so she didn’t want to get anyone's hopes up. 

They walked on the stone path to the disconnected garage to the left of her house before standing in front of the two double doors. Julie pulled them open to reveal a spacious, relatively empty, blank slate. Inside to the right was an old red couch, a lone chair, and a few old band posters, to the left lay a rug, but with enough room to fit at least four chairs and a table. There was a loft overhead, which Julie and her father had spent their first weekend moving boxes into. 

And finally stood a dusty baby grand piano at the back. It had been her mother’s and she and Julie would spend hours at it. No one had played it since they moved. 

Julie turned to Flynn as they stood at the entrance, “Okay, so maybe I didn’t find anything per se, but I sort of did.” She led the other girl to stand in front of the piano before she sat down on the dusty bench, her hands in her lap

“Julie-” Flynn started.

“I was talking with Luke, and he had written a song and we got talking and,” Julie paused, looking at the keys, “He brought up my mom’s song. We had worked on it before she passed.”

Julie looked up to see her friend with a hopeful smile on her face, “I can’t let myself be kicked out of the music program, and I-I think that if I can play this song, I might be able to play again.”

Julie pulled a folded piece of paper out from her pocket and set it atop the piano. Flynn had pulled up a chair next to her and looked at the girl expectantly. 

Julie took a few deep breaths; in and out, in and out, she repeated. She could do this. She could set her hands on the ivory and play her mother's song. All it was was a few notes and lines on a page. She raised her hands to play. It was so simple.

Except, it wasn’t.

She quickly pulled her hands back into her lap, and started toying with her sleeve. If she played her mother’s song, she wouldn’t have anything left of her. This was her mother’s last creation, the last thing she would ever do; if Julie played it, she'd be accepting that. She’d be letting go over her mother and her legacy. 

Flynn must have seen her unease, because she placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to push yourself.”

Julie shook her head, “No, I have to get over it eventually, I can’t not play.” But she didn’t make a move. She was frozen to the seat, stuck in limbo. 

“It’s just, this is the last thing my mom and I ever did, the last memory I have of us playing. If I play it, I’ll be letting go of her. I don’t think I’m ready to do that. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to do that.” Julie shook her head and placed her head in her hands, “I really wish I could. I wish I could just play the damn piano! Every time I try I just get looks of pity or-or like people are annoyed with me. I wish it was that simple, just sit down and play, and not worry and come to terms with my own mother dying, but I just can’t! I have no idea what will happen when I do!”

She took a stuttering breath in her eyes watering, “I wish that I could be like Dad and accept that she was gone. I wish that I could be like Carlos and just distract myself from it, thinking that ghosts are real just to wrap my head around the concept of death. But I’m not. I’m just Julie. And the one thing that makes me me, I can’t do.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, “I’m sorry, that was a lot to unload on you.”

But Flynn pulled her into a bone crushing hug. They stayed like that until Flynn pulled back and held her at arm's length, looking her in the eyes, “I have absolutely no idea what you are going through, and it is completely unfair to ask a person to go through something like this. But please don’t ever feel like you can’t tell me things; that’s what friends are for, especially awesome best friends like me.” She chuckled.

“I never knew Rose, but I do know what it is like to lose someone. You wish you could have known that every moment you had with them was precious, and you wish you could hold on to them forever, and you wish that they just hadn’t left in the first place. And I know that everyday without them feels like a day wasted, and you feel so hopeless when the one person you need isn’t there. And that sucks. But you don’t have to go through it alone; you have me and your dad and Carlos, and L.A boy. You have so many people that love you and will help you through this. I promise.”

“If you can’t play your piano today, that’s completely fine. It may not be tomorrow, or next week, or even a year from now. But one day, you will. And in that moment you’ll realize that you’re not forgetting your mother or letting go of her: you’re moving on. You’re saying, ‘You made me who I am and I love you and I miss you and I think about you every day, but I can’t let this stop me from growing.’ You’re honoring your mother's life by doing what she knew you were born to do: sing and play. All she ever wanted was for you to be happy.” Flynn pulled her into a hug again, “And who knows, maybe Carlos is right, and she’s standing right in this room cheering you on.”

Julie laughed into her friend’s shoulder, sniffling with damp eyes, “You’re the best.”

Flynn shrugged and patted her back, “I know.”

---

After flipping a coin, Julie had agreed to pay for lunch that day in the cafeteria. She stood in the lunch line examining the room as she waited. Another cougar had been painted by the microwaves and a yellow border ran around the ceiling. Tiles in their school colors were scattered across the floor and the room held about 25 round black tables. 

As she finished in the lunch line and walked toward her and Flynn’s table near the entrance, she overheard a conversation.

“So if Dirty Candi wants to perform at the dance, we need to tighten up our routine. Kayla, that means you need to get it together near the chorus.” Carrie Wilson wagged ketchup covered french fry in her friend's direction, “But I really do think we’ll nail it.”

“I know you will!” Nick was sitting next to her, his arm around her waist.

Julie didn’t particularly like Carrie but she had to give it to her; her songs were catchy and her choreography was always immaculate. They had worked hard for every gig they got, and made it look effortless. 

Only a few seconds later, she arrived at her table. She handed Flynn her lunch tray, distracting her from her Pre-Calc homework, then sat down.

She grimaced, “Carrots and peas again? You’d think they’d run out of slop to feed us but nope! It just keeps coming.”

Julie rolled her eyes, “You could always just pack your lunch.”

Flynn gave her a deadpan look and gestured to her spread of papers, “I have more important things to attend to.” She went back to tapping on her calculator.

Julie scrolled through her phone, shoveling her food in her mouth, before she came to one of Carrie’s posts. It showed her and the Dirty Candi girls after a performance, striking the last pose. The caption read ‘couldn’t ask for a better group.’ 

Julie turned to Flynn, “Weren’t you and Carrie really close way back when?”

The girls head shot up, “If by ‘way back when’ you mean two years ago, then yeah, you could say that.”

Julie didn’t want to prod, but she was innately curious. She also figured that they were close enough to tell each other most things. If Flynn shut it down, then she wouldn’t ask again. 

“What happened?”

Flynn looked down at her carrots and peas, she pushed them around with the plastic fork. “We were really close, our parents were friends. You’ve seen her house, they don’t live too far from us, so I used to bike there after school. We’d hang out every day and we did everything together: school chorus, swim team, dance team, literally everything. On Wednesday’s--”

“We wear pink?” Julie snorted.

“Yes, because that’s exactly what I was going to say.” She gave her a flat look, “No, on Wednesdays we’d go over to her McMansion and have dinner. But I guess something happened because she dropped me like that.” Flynn snapped her fingers. “I never found out why, but she moved on and formed Dirty Candi and now I have you. So all’s well that ends well.”

Julie nodded, “Thanks for telling me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Flynn softly smiled, then looked down at her homework, “But could you seriously help me with this, I’m so confused.”

---

“‘We’re the revolution that’s been singing in the rain!’ That is genius!” Reggie held the crumpled paper in front of his face, spinning around. He then plunked on the bright blue couch.

“That’s what I was saying!” Luke laughed. 

Luke, Alex, and Reggie, were in Alex’s garage yet again, but this time, with a finished song. The day was just as hot as the previous one, so they had all of the doors and windows open. They had moved the blue couch, a desk chair, a couple lawn chairs, and their band equipment around to form sort of a homey interior. Alex thought it was more trashy, but Reggie had insisted that cozy was the right word. 

Alex was sprawled out on the desk chair, one leg over each arm, seeming to not know how to sit, as Luke had pulled up a lawn chair around the center table.

“You said Julie Molina helped you finish it? The girl that moved away?” Alex asked. “The one you talk to everyday?”

“Yeah, yeah, we talk sometimes. And she came up with this awesome line.” Luke snatched the paper from Reggie’s hands and waved the paper like Reggie had. 

“Cool, cool. That’s not the point though. You guys talk everyday and you haven’t told her about us?” Alex was now upside down in the chair, his hair brushing the ground.

“I mean she knows about you guys! We were all in music together last year! She just doesn’t know we're in a band.” Luke didn't really mean to not tell Julie, it just, hadn’t come up. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Okay we’re not a band: one,” Alex held up a finger, “We only have three songs, and two,” he held up another, “We don’t have a band name.” 

“Oh! We are Whisper Cats, tell your friends!” Reggie waved his hand with a giddy smile, as if it was spelled out in blinding lights.

Alex whipped his head, “We are not using that name.”

Luke shrugged and mumbled, “I kinda liked it.”

“Again, not the point,” Alex sighed and ran his hand over his face, “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one with a brain cell. Why haven’t you told her about our music? I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you have other friends that aren’t 3000 miles away.”

“2,789 miles away--”

“And how many minutes is that?”

“About 7 hours, 15 minutes, by plane, give or take.”

Alex groaned, “Exactly. If you know that much about her, she should at least know about your favorite people in the world.”

Reggie stuck his bottom lip out and made puppy eyes, “We’re your favorite people? Aww, Luke!”

Luke opened his mouth to say something, but Alex shot him a look.

“I just don’t want her to feel replaced. She hasn’t played her piano in months and suddenly I join a makeshift band with my ‘new’ best friends? We used to write songs together, that was our thing, and now I write them with you guys? Yeah, that will totally blow over well.” Luke looked down, a frown etched its way onto his face. 

“I mean if she’s your friend she’ll be happy for you. Music is a big part of your life, and it seems like it’s a big part of hers. You’re also totally not replacing her, obviously Alex and I look nothing like her. And it's not as if  you can, like, monopolize writing music, I don’t think that’s how that works.” Reggie said, looking between Alex and Luke.

Alex pointed at Reggie, “For once, you made some good points.”

He looked mildly offended, “I always make good points, what are you talking about?” 

Alex ignored him, “Just make sure you’re not taking Julie for granted. One way or another, she’ll find out about our band.”

Yeah, Luke totally wasn’t going to mention that he didn’t tell her about his family situation now. 

“Yes, alright, can we get back to practicing?” Luke pushed himself off of the chair, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and reached for his blue guitar, swinging it around him. He plugged in his amp, setting the volume levels as he played a couple chords. He adjusted the mic stand up, before switching the mic on. 

“Bet. I can’t wait to play Now or Never all the way through.” Reggie scrambled to get his bass and followed suit. Alex rolled his eyes.

He slowly moved right side up in his chair so as to not get a headache then set up behind his drum kit. He nodded to Luke before clicking his sticks, “From the top. One, two, three!”

“‘Take off, last stop, countdown ‘til we blast open the top’,” Luke sang into his mic, bouncing around, “‘Face first, full charge, electric hammer to the heart’.” 

He beamed at Reggie who plucked his bass in turn. This was the first time they had been able to come together and have the full fledged song. 

“‘Clocks move forward, but we don’t get older, no. Keep on climbing, till our stars collide’,” Luke continued, feeling the energy grow as the chorus built, “And all the times we fell behind, were just the keys to paradise!”

He stomped his foot down into a power stance as Alex’s driving beat filled his soul. It seemed so natural as electricity seemed to flow through them all. They were enveloped in the music and drowned out the world around them.

“‘Don’t look down! Cause we’re still rising up right now! And even if we hit the ground, we’ll still fly!’” Luke’s voice danced over the chorus when he closed his eyes, “‘Dreaming like we’ll live forever, but living like it’s now or never!’”

“‘Hear the noise, in my head, it’s calling out like a voice I can’t forget. One life, no regrets, catch up, got no time to catch my breath’,” Luke’s words came alive and transformed with the music. “‘Clocks move faster, cause it’s all we’re after.’”

Luke nodded Reggie over to share his mic, their energy seemed to fuel each other when they harmonized, “‘Won’t stop climbing, cause this is our time yeah,” Luke pushed him back playfully and turned to look at an imaginary audience, “‘When all the days felt black and white, those were the best shade of my life’.”

Alex nodded along as the second chorus came around and Reggie and Alex joined Luke with his vocals. Alex had an ear splitting grin as he sang with his best friends. He knew that this was what he wanted to do; he didn’t want to go to college or a trade school, he wanted to be on stage and learn the ropes of performing. Luke wanted to go city to city and eat bad hot dogs and be too tired to walk, and just play. He knew that was where he belonged.

“‘We ain't searching for tomorrow’,” Alex sang as Reggie echoed. The finished bridge was great, “‘Cause we got all we need today’.”

Reggie glanced at Luke nervously, “Living on a feeling that’s been running through our veins.”

Reggie beamed and swooped a hand through his hair when he sang Julie’s line. It was perfect, “‘We’re the revolution that’s been singing in the rain.’”

The boys looked back and forth when singing the next chorus in gang vocals, clapping along with Alex’s clicking drum sticks. Luke, ever the dramatic, swung his guitar over his shoulder “‘Don’t look down, cause we’re still rising up right now.”

On the last beat, Reggie and Luke struck their power chords. “And even if we hit the ground, we’ll still fly. Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but living like it’s now or never.”

The song was coming to an end as Reggie and Alex sang backup to Luke, “It’s now or never!”

The last sounds rang around the garage and Luke could already hear the crowd cheering. His chest heaved and he could feel the back of his sleeveless shirt stick to his skin. 

Reggie threw his hands in the air, “We’re Whisper Cats, tell your friends!”

Alex threw a drumstick at him. 

--

Flynn and Julie walked home as usual and they looked at the clouds together. The weather had warmed up as the day progressed, but it was still cold enough to warrant a jacket. The leaves were just hanging onto their branches by a thread, and the sky, a perfect, ideal blue, was almost clear.

Julie had thought about Luke and Flynn’s words and she had made an executive decision: she was going to play her mother’s song. Not because anyone was forcing her, but because she knew she was holding herself back. She knew that it was time for her to move on.

After finishing her homework, she rushed to the garage and sat at the piano, the warm golden light of sunset illuminating her. She had placed the music on top of the mirrored surface and took a deep breath. She placed her hands on the keys. She knew that the second she started, memories of her mother would come flooding back.

And she was ready.

She pressed the ivory keys, reading along to her mother’s notation. The notes filled the space, the melody feeling like coming home. 

“‘Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got some place to go.’” She sang, “Life’s a test, yes, but you go toe-to-toe. You don’t give up, no, you grow.’”

She could feel her voice wobble as her eyes started to water. She was overwhelmed by her mother’s lyrics, knowing they were written just for her, just for this moment.

She continued, “‘And use your pain, cause it makes you you, though I wish I could hold you through it. I know it’s not the same,’” Julie gasped, “‘You got living to do, and I just want you to do it.’”

“‘So get up, get out, relight that spark, you know the rest by heart.’” She remembered her mother’s last Christmas where they made too many cookies to ever eat. She remembered all of the walks where her mother would point out every little thing, from the leaves, to squirrels and spiderwebs. 

“‘Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do. Look out, look inside of you. It’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.’” As Julie crescendoed she remembered her mother’s warm all encompassing hugs, and her sharp tongue when Julie would talk back to her.

She could feel the music flow through her bones and every atom of her body as she finished out the chorus. The setting sun was warm on her back.

“‘Better wake those demons, just look them in the eye, no reason not to try. Life can be a mess; I won’t let it cloud my mind, I’ll let my fingers fly.’” She threw her head back as she riffed on her mother's words. She could feel a tear run down her cheek.

“‘And use the pain ‘cause it’s part of me, and I’m ready to power through it. Gonna find the strength, find the melody, ‘cause you showed me how to do it. Get up, get out, relight that spark, you know the rest by heart.’” She wondered why she had waited so long to play, her mother had written these lyrics just for her; something that would last forever. 

“‘Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do. Look out, look inside of you. It’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.’” Julie thought of every family dinner and every grocery run, just for the simple things. 

“‘Wake up your dream and make it true, look out, look inside of you. It’s not what you lost, relight that spark, time to come out of the dark,’” She thought of her mom’s burning bravery, her fearless want for adventure, and fierce love for her family. “‘Wake up, wake up.’”

Julie stood up, fully in tears as she looked up to the sky, “‘So wake that spirit, spirit. I wanna hear it, hear it. No need to fear it, you’re not alone. You’re going to find your way!”

She pulled her hands up from the keys and stretched them out before crashing them back down, “‘Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do. Look out, look inside of you. It’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain. Wake up your dream and make it true, look out, look inside of you. When you feel lost, relight that spark, time to come out of the dark.’” She smiled out as she sang. She wasn’t letting go over her mother, she was honoring her. She was the closest she had been to her mother since she had passed.

Julie sat back down on the stool, “Wake up, mmm, wake up.” She closed her eyes and played the final notes of the song. 

She had done it. 

She found her music.

Suddenly Flynn burst into the garage, followed quickly by her father and Carlos. They tackled her in a group hug. “I would promise you we weren’t listening, but with a voice like that how could you not!” She said. 

“Mija, I’m so proud of you!” Her father chuckled, but she could hear that his voice was choked. 

“Julie, that was amazing! Better than anything you’ve ever sung!” Carlos said.

Julie was stunned for a second as they all held onto her, before they let go and let her breathe. She wiped her tears on her sweater sleeve as she stood up, “Thank you. That was mom’s song.”

Her dad slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug, “We all knew you could do it, I just didn’t think it would be so soon. Your mother would be so proud of you, I know we all are.”

--

Luke had remembered to bring his acoustic guitar back to his house after practice. Luckily, he had made it home before dinner, although the meal they did share was filled with tense words and silence. His mother had stabbed her potatoes with her fork after she had heard that Luke was trying to book gigs. He was sure he had done the same when she asked about his science fair project.

He had run to his room the second he finished eating. His room was small, but appropriate; it was covered floor to ceiling in band posters and written scraps of lyrics. He had his guitars propped in one corner, next to his messy desk. Clothes were haphazardly strewn around his laundry basket, from where he hadn’t bothered to try and aim accurately. 

But now Luke was talking to Julie.

“-and it was amazing, Luke! My fingers flew across the keys and I sang and it was beautiful! I swear I could feel my mom looking over me!” Julie sighed, talking a million words a minute.

“That’s awesome! I told you you could do it! Julie Molina pianist extraordinaire is back in business. Oh my god, we can write songs again, just like last year!” Luke had her on speaker phone and was playing around with some chords and riffs. He was elated that she had played her mom’s song; he knew how much her death had affected Julie and how much of a mountain playing her song was to climb. He was proud of her. “Speaking of songs: I finished Now or Never, thanks to you, and it’s a banger. I can already hear the bass and drums and the crowd chanting our names!”

Julie laughed, “You’re really working on that whole rockstar thing, huh?”

“Of course, they always told us to chase our dreams in school, didn’t they? I’m just going on more of an… unconventional route.”

“By yourself? A one man band? Doesn’t sound very rockstar-ish to me.” Julie retorted. Luke knew he hadn’t really told Julie about his friends. But he also knew that this was her way of prodding him to tell her. Luke supposed that it has been a long time coming. 

“Do you remember Alex and Reggie? From music class?”

Julie hummed as she thought, as if she hadn't prodded Luke “Oh! The blond one with the fanny pack and the one in the leather jacket? Them right?”

Luke nodded before he realized that she couldn’t see him, “Yeah, them. I’ve become closer with them, mostly hanging out in Alex’s garage.” He was careful to omit any mention of their instruments, music, or any tell that might give him away. Julie could catch him red handed in a lie, no matter the distance, so he...didn’t lie. He just didn’t say the full truth.

“Really? I never would have guessed.” He heard her sit in what he thought was a chair, judging by the slight squeak. “It’s a good thing you’ve made friends that aren’t so far away.” He laughed as she unknowingly parroted Alex’s words. 

She continued, “Yeah now that I can play again, I can stay in music class. I just need a song by Friday, which isn’t too hard to do -- write a song in 3 days -- it’s just kind of a lot to ask right now. I was going to ask if I could just turn one of Flynn’s raps into a song with a simple 1, 5 , 4, progression.”

“Actually I wrote another song that would be perfect for your range,” He moved his guitar off of his lap, opened his song book, took a picture and sent it to Julie. “I just sent it, if you want to use that.”

Julie checked her phone, “Are you sure? I’d be playing it in front of my whole class.”

Luke smiled, he had intended to show Alex and Reggie the song, but he figured Julie would get more use out of it, “Yeah totally, it can be a thank you for helping me figure out that lyric in Now or Never.”

Luke could hear Julie’s smile, “Thank you so much, oh my god. You’re the best!” He heard her get up from her squeaky chair, “I have to go, but I’ll send you a video of when I play it; I’ll make Flynn record it.”

He chuckled, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

---

Taglist : @siennanoelle01​, @roses-and-ponds-and-bowties​ 

[purplesurveys]

1031

Do you usually take blame or blame others? Depends on the context, I guess? When things go wrong on a very deep and personal level between me and people I deeply care for, I usually try to find reasons to blame myself. But if it’s something superficial, like if someone messes up at work through no fault of my own, then I’m able to point my finger to whoever fucked up.

Have you ever been to a McDonald’s in another state? I’ve been to McDonald’s in different provinces and also  in different countries. The McDonald’s we went to in Baguio was so surreal because we discovered that they were still using styrofoam containers that they had already phased out years ago everywhere else, and they also never changed the original spaghetti and chicken recipes I grew up with. It was such a blast from the past. As for other countries, I’ve tried out the McDonald’s in Malaysia, Indonesia, and China and made sure to order items that we didn’t have back home.

Have you ever seen 50 First Dates? Yeah, it’s one of my semi-guilty pleasures. It’s such a cheesy movie, but idk the concept is unique and the supporting characters made the whole movie enjoyable for me.

Do you like or hate the smell of fish? The fishy smell at the market can be pretty strong and bleck, but generally I don’t mind the smell of fish. I live in an archipelago, man. We live and breathe seafood. Idk anyone in real life who doesn’t like fish.

Have you ever been to Sea World? No.

Do you know someone who suffers from short term memory loss? I don’t think so, no.

Have you ever read any of John Green’s books? Yeah, but the only one I’ve gotten to read in full was The Fault In Our Stars. I also got to start on The Abundance of Katherines and Paper Towns, but because I only borrowed those copies from friends I never got to read either until the end. All were okay, but I don’t find John Green’s writing to be as great as it was once hyped up to be.

If so, which one is your favorite? I guess TFIOS, since that’s the only one I got to read through to the end.

Are you a protective person? With my loved ones and pets, yes.

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? Yeah I’ve felt a lot but fortunately it’s never been a severe one. Just super brief earthquakes where the most that happened to me was a little swaying.

Would you rather go to a beach or city for a vacation? I love beaches, but a change in scenery would also be nice because I already go to beaches for vacations fairly often. City.

Does your license plate number contain the number 8? I never actually memorized my plate number LOOOOOOL I think so? It’s either a 6 or 8.

Were you ever a ghost on Halloween? Nope.

Has someone ever held the door open for you? Yeah, security guards tend to do that for customers/guests. Sometimes, nice strangers that I enter a place with will do it for me too.

Are you a fan of penguins? I think fan is pushing it far lol. I like penguins, but I’m not obsessed.

Have you ever stayed up all night on a school night? Just a handful of times, and it was always as part of a groupwork. I’d never willingly go through an all-nighter for myself.

What’s your favorite brand of chips? Doritos or Pringles. We also have a local brand that makes these deeeeeelicious salted egg chips, but I’ve never actually taken note of what the brand is.

Has anyone ever sang to you? Not to me. But a lot of people have sung around me.

Are you a good painter? No. That’s why I opt for paint-by-number kits, because those come with a guide haha. I can’t actually craft images by myself – that skill belongs to my sister who has an insane talent for painting.

Before buying a car, do you usually test drive it? I’ve never bought a car by myself; my dad takes care of the car purchases. I know he test-drove the Vitara, but idk about the other cars we have.

Have you ever written a poem and then read it aloud? Hmm, I don’t write poems. I don’t find the vast majority of them appealing, and only once in a while will there be a poem that is able to speak to me.

Do you like pineapple? Nope.

Have you ever met your favorite author? I don’t have a favorite.

Do you look more like your mom or dad? Most comments point to my mom, but I’ll get the occasional remark that half of my face is my dad’s as well. I’m a good mix of both.

Have you and your best friend ever liked the same person? This hasn’t happened before.

When was the last time someone called you babe or baby? Maybe August? I’m not too sure. It’s been a few months.

Do you have an older brother? No. But I’m super close with my eldest cousin on my mom’s side and we grew up together and all that, and I pretty much consider him my older brother. He’s definitely more a brother than a cousin to me, and it has always felt and been that way.

Are you a fan of art? Yes, especially paintings and dioramas.

Did you get your mom or dad’s eyes? My mom’s, I think? I really don’t know, I’m bad at recognizing this kind of stuff. You’d have to ask people who actually see me on a daily basis.

Have you ever seen the movie My Girl? Is this the one with the really sad scene of a boy’s funeral and the girl’s like, “He can’t see without his glasses”? I haven’t seen the movie, but I’ve heard about that scene a million times.

Do you watch Teen Wolf on MTV? Ugh, MTV’s teen shows are such a cringefest to me. I never followed it, but I’ve had to watch a few eps back in high school when my friends would watch it while we were at someone’s place. Not my cup of tea.

When it was on, did you watch Cory In The House on Disney? I watched a few episodes, especially when it was still new. But we were also in the process of moving then and we didn’t have cable for a few years in our new house, so I had to miss out most of it.

Do you have any blackheads? I don’t.

Do you have any freckles? Nope.

Do you have a movie that you have to watch during the summer every year? No, but I have something similar. I like watching Love Actually at least once every year, during the Christmas season. I like watching Two for The Road once a year as well, regardless of the time of year.

Do you think that life isn’t fair sometimes? I mean yeah. It doesn’t revolve around me, so I know it won’t always be fair.

When was the last time someone bought you flowers? Valentine’s Day last year.

What was the last book you read? Midnight Sun. Haven’t touched it since September, though.

How many books do you plan to read this summer? It’s past summer, and I haven’t been doing a lot of reading in general.

Does your house have a dishwasher? No, not a common appliance here.

Do you know anyone who has a flower tattoo? I probably do. But I haven’t seen people outside of family for so long that I can barely remember who has which tattoos. I’m pretty sure I know someone who has flowers.

Do you like the name Carter? It just reminds me of the underwear brand honestly, so not a fan.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? No. Should there be one, they shouldn’t be having high hopes; I wouldn’t be interested in the least.

How many different languages can you say goodbye in? There’s English, Filipino, Korean, Spanish, German, French, Japanese – 7.

Agree or disagree: You like Adam Sandler movies. Disagree for the most part, but 50 First Dates is cute.

--

Did the last type of shoes you wore have laces? Yups. I wore sneakers when I went out to get Starbucks last Friday evening.

How much money did you spend yesterday? The charging cable that I ordered arrived yesterday, so I had to shell out ₱140 for that.

What genre is your favorite movie? It’s a romcom/drama. My other favorite is a drama.

Are you texting anybody right now? Nope. I’m all alone today, which is the way I want to be for this weekend.

Who was the last person you were in a car with? My parents.

Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? I really do, hahaha. I don’t know why the people at the LTO gave me a pass, but I had been allowed to smile with my teeth. That helped make my license photo turn out super well and I no longer feel embarrassed whenever I have to take it out and present it somewhere.

What’s your favorite thing to snack on while watching a movie? Potato Corner fries. Can’t be any other type of fries.

When was the last time somebody hit on you? July or August when this random guy slid into my PMs. I had never had so much fun blocking somebody so fast.

Was the last person you met a male or female? The last new person I met was male.

Which one of your friends do you feel most comfortable around? Angela or Andi.

Do you own a map of the world? I mean, I guess. I have a collection of the World Almanac for Kids books, and it had always included a world map in its Countries chapter every year.

What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.

Is the light on in the room you’re in? No, doesn’t have to be as it’s bright out and I can see the sun from my window.

Who did you last spoon with? Gabie.

Are you currently watching TV? No.

Have you ever had surgery or stitches? Never. Hope I’ll never be needing one.

Do you own any clothing that has animal print? I have a tank top with cheetah print that I sometimes wear at home.

Does your family eat dinner together? Yes, every evening. We don’t eat together when my dad is working abroad, but since he has stayed home for all of 2020 because of Covid, we’ve gotten to eat together as a family all year.

Where do you work? Somewhere in Metro Manila; I’m not giving the city away.

Are you in high school? I got out of there nearly five years ago.

Do you have a TV in your room? I used to, but not anymore.

Are any of your electronics charging right now? My phone and laptop both are.

What was the last video game you played? Mario Kart 8.

--

Are you hungry?: I can def go for a snack, or maybe even a full meal. It’s taking everything in me not to order Popeye’s or Army Navy from Grab rn.

What color is the chair you’re sitting on?: I’m sitting up in bed; my sheets are blue with gold/yellow prints.

What did you buy last time you went to the store?: I got bottled coffee when I went to 7-Eleven a week ago.

Do you like salsa that has fruit in it?: ...Don’t all types of salsa have fruit in them though? It would be brand-new knowledge to me if I was told not all salsas have fruit.

Have you ever opened up your computer to clean the fan on the inside?: No. I’d rather have professionals do that.

Can you count in binary?: No, and I never even understood how it works.

Do you think stained glass windows are pretty?: No. Mostly because it reminds me of cathedrals.

Are you a chocoholic?: Nah. I like chocolate, but I can live without it.

Are you scared of snakes?: I mean if they were venomous or obviously wanted to eat me whole, of course. But I’ve also already held a couple of snakes before.

Have you had your wisdom teeth removed?: No.

Do you like hard or soft pretzels better?: Soft all the way. I find the hard ones too salty.

What was the last magazine or catalog you looked through?: I don’t even remember. Maybe Tatler? My grandma has loads of those at her house.

When was the last time you wore a raincoat?: I don’t think I have ever worn a raincoat.

Have you ever been carded when buying something?: Idk what that is but nothing out of the ordinary has ever happened to me whenever I’ve made a purchase, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.

Do you eat meat?: Yep.

Corn and mashed potatoes, or beans and rice?: Both pairings aren’t really a part of our cuisine, so neither sound appealing to be honest. As someone who thrives on rice, I hate the idea of eating beans with it; so I would go with corn and mashed potatoes even though I’m having a hard time imagining how it would work.

Can you sleep with the light on?: I probably can, but it would take me a lot longer to fall asleep.

What’s your operating system of choice?: Mac/iOS.

Have you ever broken a bone?: Never.

Do you have a favorite highlighter color?: I don’t have a favorite color to use, but I prefer pastel shades in general over neon.

Do you have a flashlight?: My phone has a built-in flashlight, but we also keep a couple of emergency flashlights at home in case of blackouts.

Do you like watermelon?: I like some watermelon-flavored stuff like candies, but I’m not fond of the fruit.

…Honeydew?: Hahahahahaha. BoJack Horseman, anyone? Anyway, I’ve never had honeydew and probably wouldn’t like it considering my established opinion on fruits.

Can you shoot a gun?: I’ve never tried, so I’ll say no. I’ve always been meaning to go to a shooting range though; I feel like it’ll be such a cool experience.

Do you like salad?: Not for the most part. The only kind I enjoy is spicy tuna salad, which only has lettuce in it alongside tuna sashimi and spicy mayonnaise.

When was the last time you smashed your finger?: I don’t know if I ever have? This doesn’t ring a bell to me.

What color is your computer?: Silver/gray.

Have you ever made ice cream in chemistry class?: No, my chemistry classes in high school and college were never that fun.

Has anyone ever walked in on you while you were on the toilet?: Sure.

What color hair do you have?: Black.

Do you use the microwave often?: I wouldn’t say so; just a couple of times a month.

Are you good at spelling?: Sure, I’d claim that. Thank the movie Akeelah and the Bee; that movie made me super passionate about spelling and dictionaries for a time. I can still feel its effects today because I’m still very much particular about spelling more so than any other kind of writing/language mechanic.

Have you ever petted a donkey?: I’ve never even seen one before :o but I’d love to have the chance to pet one, heh. It would make me so happy.

When was the last time you went to the doctor’s for a physical?: 2016.

Do you like a lot of ice in your drinks?: Sure.

Have you ever painted a room? Never have, but would like to give it a try.

[katiekitty261]

And they were roommates// Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

This started as a request from my lovely @wroteclassicaly, but it kinda turned into its own beast LOL. (Also, the title just makes me laugh. I had to keep it. Forgive me)

This is a little college AU type situation, the characters might be OOC because of it. This is also my first length fic for jimmy :’) 

@ladynuwanda​ and ella, I’m just pointing out that I saw this gif...and I had to use it. Legally I couldn’t use a different one. 

Description - Jim is the boyfriend of your college dorm roommate and you hate each other, but do you really?

Word count- 4800+

Warnings- swearing, a little blood. Brief description of violence. Maybe slightly submissive Jim if you squint? I don’t know. Smut. Near-Death experience?

Read on Ao3

You wanted to throw something.

Your lovely roommate Leah begged you to let her boyfriend Jim, stay over for a few ‘hours’. You usually didn’t let her, but she wouldn’t shut up about it. You decided you’d study in the student lounge while you waited for her to text you that you could come back.

The text never arrived. You ended up falling asleep at one of the uncomfortable couches. Your back ached and you forgot to set an alarm, so you only woke up with 15 minutes left to get to class.

“You look dead,” You looked up to see Medina Mason taking a seat next to you in the courtyard, dropping her books on the picnic table.

“Your brother kept me awake all night.” You said bitterly, stabbing a bite of your salad.

“He did what?” She raised her brows at you.

You coughed, realizing what it sounded like. “No- God…” you wiped your mouth, “He was with Leah. All night.”

“In your room?”

“Yes, and I had an exam!”

“I’m sorry, I can try to talk to him if you want, knock some sense into him.”

You smiled at her and nodded, “That would be great. I have English next week and I can’t afford to fail this one…”

You liked Medina. She was Jim’s twin sister, but the complete opposite of him. You honestly didn’t know how they shared the same DNA.

You had known them since they started college in the same year as you, but you never got along with Jim. It was like he had some kind of vendetta against you or something, like his goal every semester was to find a way to piss you off more. This year he had really spread the icing on the hate cake by dating your roommate.

Medina tried to convince you that he was just doing it because he probably likes you, which was bullshit. Jim Mason did not like you.

He hated you. Just like you hated him.

It didn’t help that he was panty-dropping gorgeous. Not that you would ever admit it, though.

“There’s a party tonight. You coming?” Medina asked you sighed.

“I shouldn’t… I need to study.”

“Oh come on. It’s Friday night, you have the whole weekend to study. Come have a few drinks with our friends, and you can forget all about my brother.”

“Forget what about me?”

You groaned internally at the familiar voice. Looking over to see the devil himself, with his arm wrapped around Leah's waist.

“That I couldn’t go back to my dorm all night because you and Leah wouldn’t keep your hands to yourselves.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m SO sorry I forgot to text you! We just fell asleep.” Leah tried to explain, but you rolled your eyes.

“You could’ve joined us if you liked.” Jim winked as he spoke and you scoffed.

“Fuck you, Mason.” You turned your back to him and continued eating. You didn’t miss him saying, “only in your dreams,” under his breath but you chose to ignore it.

“Are you going to the party, Jim?” Medina asked, you heard him reply in agreement.

You definitely weren’t going now.

___

“Black or red.. or purple… or Yellow?”

“Why don’t you just wear a rainbow?” You leaned back on Medina’s bed as she picked out something to wear to the party.

That she was forcing you to go to.

“You know I’m not good with style… I want to look decent.” She pouted at you, holding up two dresses for you to see.

“Blue. Blue is your best color.”

“Blue wasn’t an option… but you’re right. It’s a Mason thing.” She started shuffling through her closet again, looking for something in blue.

“What are you wearing?” She asked as she finally picked out something.

“What do you mean? I’m already dressed.” You gestured to the clothes you were wearing already. A white T-shirt and a pair of light wash denim capris.

“You are not.” She rolled her eyes, “We’re supposed to be having fun… Don’t you want to meet someone? Get laid? You can’t dress like that.”

“I’ll dress whatever way I want to, Dina.”

“Fine. At least put on makeup.”

You compromised with Medina and let her put a little makeup on you. Not much, but a little mascara and concealer can make a difference.

___

You recognized Led Zeppelin playing when you and Medina got to the party. The music was so loud you could barely hear her talking to you as you went to find drinks. If you were going to have any fun tonight, you needed something to drink.

Dina ditched you about an hour in, something about going to smoke with a guy she had met. Not that you minded, you were buzzed enough to not care anymore. You danced with a few of your girlfriends, enjoying the music and swaying with the crowd of scantily dressed college kids.

You spotted Leah, dressed in a bright red mini skirt that was pushed up so high you could see the giant dream catcher she had tattooed on her thigh. Her brown hair sat loosely on her shoulders and her red lipstick was smeared on her lips. She was sitting on Jim’s lap, her arm around his shoulders.

She waved at you with a smile, making him look in your direction. You tried not to notice how good he looked in his old worn jean jacket, you really did try. In your inebriated state, however, your efforts were fruitless. You tried to pretend like you weren’t checking him out, just looking back at Leah, you waved back and gave her an awkward smile.

Jim tapped her legs so she would move, getting up and making his way toward you. You tried to walk away, but before you could make it through the crowd, he had made it to you first.

“You really wore that?” He looked you up and down.

“So what, not all of us have to dress like sluts to go to a party, Mason.”

“You didn’t even change what you wore earlier,”

“Why do you pay so much attention?” You asked,

“I’m not.”

“Mhm. Just like you’re not over here bothering me instead of your girlfriend over there on the couch.” You emptied your cup and turned to leave, but Jim reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“You shouldn’t drink anymore if you’re here alone.”

“Who are you to talk? I’m not alone, Dina is with me.” You shrugged off his hand, ignoring the warmth his hand had left on your skin.

“I just saw her leave with some dude, you are alone. We both know you can’t hold your liquor well either.”

“Who says I can’t hold my liquor?”

“The last party you went to you fell off the deck into the pool.”

“That was on purpose.”

“Sure it was. What about that time you threw up in the bushes and Medina and Leah had to carry you home?”

“Why do you care so much? You don’t seem to care about me any other time.” You turned to face him, swallowing when you realized how close he was standing to you. He practically had you backed up against the counter now.

“I don’t.”

“Then leave me alone.” You pushed him away from you and he stumbled back, watching as you poured yourself another drink and downing it in one gulp, making an exaggerated “ahhh” to annoy him.

“You’re a fucking pain, you know that (Y/N)?”

“Only in your ass, Mason.” You winked at him, grabbing another drink before you could disappear back into the crowd, leaving Jim alone in the kitchen.

___

The rest of the night was basically a blur.

Somehow you ended up in the upstairs hallway, some strangers lips attached to your neck, making obscene noises as he tried to grope your breasts through your bra. Your shirt had a drink spilled on it, which was making you feel wet and uncomfortable.

You weren’t really enjoying yourself to any degree, and you tried to push him off of you but he wasn’t budging.

“Dude, get off me…” You said, He ignored you trying to unhook your bra, but you pushed on him again.

“There you are… Hey-” You heard a voice that didn’t belong to the stranger call out, and suddenly he was ripped from you, making you stumble against the wall.

“She said to get off her.” You recognized it as Jim, holding the other guy by the collar of his shirt, a murderous look in his eyes.

“She wanted me, bro. Lay off.” He tried to get free of Jim’s grip, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Jim… let him go.” You said, but he ignored you.

Jim punched the guy square in his face, you could hear a crack that had to be his nose. The guy stumbled back, cursing at him.

Luckily instead of fighting back the guy ran off holding his bloody nose.

“Jesus fuck, Jim. You didn’t have to do that.” You grabbed his hand, his knuckles were bruised and bloody too.

“What happened to your shirt?” He asked, eyeing your chest. It was showing your bra through the wet fabric. You would’ve felt grossed out (you liked to tell yourself) if you hadn’t been so drunk, but at this moment having Jim Mason staring at your chest left you tingling in all the right places.

“Some asshole spilled their drink on me.”

“Come on, I'm taking you back to the dorm.” Jim shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you, telling you to button it up before he grabbed your hand and walked you outside with him.

You were too tired to argue, too hot under the skin to shake his hand away, enjoying his attention on you way too much.

Plus you felt so warm inside his jacket, unconsciously pulling it tighter around you.

Jim drove you all the way back to your dorm, where you found Leah passed out on her bed still fully dressed and everything.

“Did you bring her back too?”

“Earlier. She was tired.”

“You came back for me?” You asked, Jim looked at you and sighed.

“Go to bed.” He gently pushed you toward your bed, You flopped onto it and fell asleep seconds later.

_____

Sunlight and a pounding in your head woke you up the next morning.

You groaned, covering your face with your pillow, but the dryness of your throat and your bladder stopped you from sleeping in any longer. You stood up, realizing you were still wearing Jim’s jacket, but you had managed to take off your jeans while you slept.

Most of your memories were hazy, but the ones involving Jim were crystal clear in your mind.

He was actually nice to you. Really nice.

Any warm thought your brain was conjuring disappeared when you looked over and saw him in bed with Leah, her back pressed against him, a smile on her lips as they slept.

“He’s her boyfriend… and he’s Jim.” you shake your head, trying to remove any weird lingering feelings as you walked to the bathroom.

After taking care of yourself, washing your face and brushing your teeth among other things you walked out to find Jim and Leah awake, Jim was sitting up in bed, his hair ruffled from sleep and looking stupidly beautiful for first thing in the morning. Leah was standing at her closet in her underwear.

You forgot that you hadn’t put on pants when you walked to the bathroom, and Jim noticed right away.  

His eyes trailed down your legs, and back up again, a certain look in his eye as he stared at you wearing his favorite jacket and not much else.

You felt uncomfortable, feeling your face heat up as he blatantly kept his eyes on you and not his underwear-clad girlfriend just a few feet away.

“Is that Jim’s?” Leah asked, bringing your attention back to her.

“She spilled a drink at the party,” Jim responded before you could, and you nodded.

“You really shouldn’t drink so much…” She said and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. I need to get dressed.” You stood in place and unbuttoned the jacket, Jim’s eyes glued to your half-naked state. You wondered if Leah didn’t care or if she was really that dumb that she didn’t notice the look Jim was giving you. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice the look he was giving you, either. You threw the jacket in his direction, and it seemed to snap him out of his daze.

You grabbed clean clothes from your closet and retreated back into the bathroom. You felt your cheeks hot as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. “What the hell is wrong with me today?” You muttered to yourself as you started to get dressed.

Jim usually didn’t affect you this much. For some reason this morning, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

“Jim and I are going to breakfast!” Leah called out a few minutes later, you muttered a reply before flopping back onto your bed.

Your head was still pounding and you didn’t think you could be around them for any longer, so you downed a couple Advil and went back to sleep.

____

“This is exactly what I needed. Exams are a bitch, aren’t they?” Medina said as she zipped up her wetsuit. You and a few friends decided to go surfing since it was a Saturday and you had nothing better to do. You couldn’t surf very well, but Medina was teaching you.

“Is Jim here?” You asked as you grabbed your board. Medina shrugged.

“Maybe. Why?”

“No reason… He was acting really weird to me at the party last night. I was drunk so I might be remembering it wrong, but I think he was actually worried about me.”

“I told you, (Y/N). He doesn’t hate you. I know my brother. He doesn’t hate anyone.”

You wanted to argue, but the memories of last night irritated you. He rescued you from some total creep, gave you his jacket and brought you back to the dorm. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf?

“It’s weird and I don’t like it.”

“Maybe Leah is changing him?”

You wanted to laugh. “I doubt he’s getting any kind of influence from her. She can barely keep her class schedule straight let alone control anything Jim does. Too busy preaching about how much she loves her “aesthetic”. You mimicked the annoying way she acted and Medina laughed.

Leah may have been your roommate and you were civil to each other, but you were far from friends. She had a tendency to be a little overbearing and being her friend was exhausting, so you just stopped trying. Your annoyance living with her only grew when you found out she had started dating Jim.

“I don’t know why he’s with her. She’s not his type at all.”

“Jim has a type?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“I thought he would just fuck anything that moved.”

“He’s not like that (Y/N). He wasn’t in high school at least. He didn’t sleep around until he got here. He doesn’t when he’s dating someone either.”

“I really don’t know what he sees in her.” You said as you noticed the couple appear on the beach. Leah was practically skipping in the sand, wearing a bikini that you were sure was two sizes too small. It was pink and gaudy, a bright contrast to Jim’s dark wetsuit.

Great, he was here to surf too.

“She’s hot and he’s shallow?” you finished, Medina shrugged. “Maybe”.

You got into the water which effectively ended the conversation as you tried to focus on surfing.

You caught a few good waves, but you weren’t nearly as good as Medina. You kept getting distracted by Leah yelling at Jim every 10 minutes, asking how he was doing and begging for him to come back to the beach.

You tried your best to ignore him, but it wasn’t working.

Jim didn’t surf as much as Dina did, but he was still a pretty good surfer. You found yourself watching him, sitting on your board almost forgetting completely that you were there to surf too.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Medina shout, and you looked over at her, she was waving and pointing, and you realized she was pointing at the very large wave that was coming right towards you.

You tried to act fast, but you didn’t act fast enough. The wave crashed into you and knocked you off your board, you felt the ankle strap on the board rip off as you went under the water. You struggled against the surge, swimming up, but as soon as you did another wave crashed and sent you in the water again.

You could feel your vision starting to blackout from lack of oxygen, and your lungs burned as you involuntarily sucked in water.

“This is it, I'm about to die.” You thought as your vision finally went dark.

___

You gasped for hair and opened your eyes, sputtering water and looking up directly into the eyes of an angel.

Had you died? Wait. No. It wasn’t an angel. It was just Jim.

“Thank god,” You heard medina yell, you realized she was sitting by your side, as Jim hovered over your body in the sand, his hands on your shoulders still.

“I almost drowned…” You coughed, “Did you save me?” You looked up into Jim’s eyes, his face was only a few inches from yours. He nodded.

You fell silent. Jim had saved you from literally dying, and he was sitting close to you now you almost wanted to kiss him.

“Oh my god! Are you ALRIGHT?!”

Leah’s shrill voice rang in your ears as she ran over kicking sand on you, making Jim pull away but he didn’t take his hands off of you.

“I’m ok I think…”

“You should get checked out,” Dina said, you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. I just need to get back to the dorm.”

“I can take you.” Jim piped up, and Leah gave him a dirty look.

“She’s fine. We just got here.”

Medina gave her a nasty look. “She almost just drowned.”

“She’s fine. Let’s go Jim.” She pulled his arm and he pushed her off.

“Jim,” You stopped him. “Just go with her. Dina can take me home…”

Jim helped you up, earning another dirty look from Leah. “We need to talk.” He whispered in your ear, leaving you confused a little light-headed.

____

The rest of your exams came and went, and you felt fine after a few days. Normal even.

Except, it wasn’t normal.

You hadn’t seen Jim all week, not since he left the beach. Normally you’d find him in your dorm, hanging off Leah, or bothering you and Dina while you studied, but you didn’t see him once the entire week.

You tried not to let it bother you, but the less you saw him the more you couldn’t get him off your mind. It was driving you mad.

Your brain was constantly invaded by him. His stupid blue eyes and wavy hair. His stupid freckles and his stupid smile.

He’s the one who said he wanted to talk, Right? So why was he avoiding you?

“Fuck…” You groaned.

You needed to end this. Whatever it was.

You made your way to his dorm, knowing where it was because you had been there a few times with Medina. Standing at his door you felt stupid, You didn’t even know if he was there, and what were you going to say, “Why are you ignoring me after you said we needed to talk? It’s stupid. Please stop ignoring me so we can go back to hating each other like normal.”

You scoffed at yourself.

You started to walk away, but the door to this dorm swung open.

Jim gave you a confused look, and you stood still.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“What took you so long?”

“I- what do you mean? You wanted to talk to me. Why did I have to come to you first?”

“I had some things to deal with, I figured you’d show up here after you heard.”

“Heard what?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don't know! I don’t know what’s going on. I never know with you, Mason.” You were starting to get angry.

He crossed his arms as he sat down on the couch, you followed him in.

“Nevermind.” You huffed, and he stood up. “Wait, don’t.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here, you’re right. I don’t know why I care so much about you… stupid ass…”

Jim walked up to you, grabbing your wrist to keep you from walking away.

“Do you really hate me?”

You swallowed.

You wanted to say yes, you really thought you did, but you couldn’t think straight.

“Medina said you thought I hated you. I know you think I do, but do you really hate me?”

The way he looked at you made your heart stop. No. I don’t hate you. You wanted to say it, but you were frozen.

Fuck it.

You turned and grabbed his face, pressing your lips hard to his.

Jim stood in shock as you kissed him, but quickly caught on and kissed you back. Wrapping his arms around you as he deepened it, walking you back until you were pressed against the door.

His lips were as soft as silk, and he tasted like mint. Your hands tangled in his brunette waves as you kissed him feverishly.

You broke the kiss first.

Breathing heavily as you stared at him, looking at you with a surprised expression.

“Should we do that again?” He asked you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“Leah, what about Leah? You’re dating her… She’s my roommate-”

Jim’s lips cut you off.

“I broke up with her, After the beach.”

“What? Really?”

“I only dated her to get closer to you. The way she acted after what happened. I couldn’t stand it. That’s what I meant, I figured you had heard from her.”

“To get closer to me?...” You scrunch your brows together.

“You’re really that oblivious?” He had his arms wrapped around you, but you didn’t make any effort to push him away further.

“I like you. I have, for years. I never hated you… I just didn’t know how to tell you. I dated Leah cause I was hoping you’d be jealous. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid. I thought you hated me so much that I thought I hated you.”

“You don’t hate me, do you?” He asked again, but this time he knew the answer.

All the secret feelings you had bottled up the last two years came bubbling to the surface as he confessed to you. Every little stupid thing you had thought he had done to piss you off in the past, every sweet thing you pretended wasn’t sweet came to the forefront of your mind.

“I'm an idiot and I think I’m in love with you.” The words fell out of your mouth as you stared up at him, only a few inches from you. You could feel his heart beating in his chest under your hands.

He pressed his lips back to yours, this time the kiss was less rushed, you could feel the tenderness in how he kissed you. His hands wrapped around you like he never wanted to let you go.

“I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” You breathed as you kissed him, his arms wrapped around you tighter.

“For the record, I love you too, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now kiss me.”

Jim didn’t need any more convincing after that. He pressed his lips yours again, this time with no intention of stopping.

“Is your,” you continued pressing your lips back to his as you spoke, “roommate coming back anytime soon?”

“Mm no, at his parents for the weekend.” Jim walked you over to his bed, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and you gave him a nod, letting him know this was ok.

“Good god, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” Jim stared at your shirtless form, his hands making quick work of your bra and tossing it aside. His lips immediately found your chest. Gently lapping and biting, one hand caressing while he kissed and sucked lightly on your skin and nipples.

“I think I have an idea…” you sighed at his touch, running your fingers through his hair.

“We’re both idiots, right? We could’ve been doing this way sooner.” Jim laughed as he straightened himself up again, taking off his own shirt as he talked.

You admired the way his arms flexed and for once you could stare at him without feeling guilty.

“Like what you see?”

You shut him up with a kiss.

Your hands worked Jim’s belt as you kissed hungrily when you finally undid it you let him sit on the bed as you slid his pants off him.

His cock was strained against the fabric, pressing its full hard length for you to see how much he really wanted you. It practically made your mouth water.

Jim Mason was blessed in every department it seemed.

You dropped to your knees in front of him as he sat on the edge of his bed, running your hands up his thighs.

“You’re such a tease,” he adjusted his hips, his cock still straining for attention.

“I’m not in a rush…” you winked playfully up at him before finally taking his throbbing member in your hand and giving it a few light strokes.

Jim groaned through his teeth, bucking up into your hand.

“Are you going to cum if I put my mouth on you?”

“I- Maybe,” he wanted to say no, but with the way he was feeling Jim knew he wouldn’t last if you wrapped your pretty little lips around his cock.

Another time.

You kept your hand wrapped around him as you pushed him back on the bed so you could straddle him, stopping only for a few seconds to pull the rest of your pants and panties off.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, in the side drawer.”

“I guess your whore tendencies do come in handy sometimes, Mason.” You reached over and found a little foil packet, resuming your straddle position as you sat on top of his thighs.

His cock was dripping precum now, and you couldn’t resist leaning down and cleaning the head of his cock with your tongue.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

You tore open the condom carefully and rolled in on him, “do you want me to ride you?” You asked him, he stared up at you straddling him, completely naked and practically dripping with need all over him.

“Please.”

You adjusted your hips so you could grind the tip of his cock against your clit for a few seconds, moaning softly as you rocked against him. Jim’s hands found your hips as you directed his cock into you.

“Fuck, I love you.” You found yourself saying again as you felt his cock fully seated inside of you.

You leaned down and pressed another kiss to his lips, and started rocking against him. Agonizingly slow for Jim’s preferences.

He gripped your hips tighter, moving you the way he wanted you to move now. He lifted you up so he could fuck you properly, eventually sitting up and wrapping his arms around you while his cock was still buried inside you.

Your wrapped your arms around his neck in return, enjoying the sensations flowing through you as you simply stayed still, feeling your naked chests pressed against each other and your hearts beating in synch.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that to me…” Jim pressed his forehead against yours, stealing your lips in another kiss and another after that.

“I love you, Jim Mason.” You whispered against his lips. “I love you,” he smiled in return before deepening the kiss.

As he kissed you, he adjusted your position so he was on top. Driving into you with slow but firm thrusts, his tongue tracing the most sensitive part of your neck sending chills up you as he fucked you.

One of Jim’s hands eventually found your clit, running along it in slow circles as he continued to fuck you, Making you moan his name in his mouth.

You climbed the mountain together, feeling your orgasm build and you could tell by Jim’s sloppy thrusts that he wasn’t far behind,

You moaned loudly as you finally felt your release, so loud, in fact, you imagined everyone on this floor could hear you, not that you cared.

Jim followed suit, spilling into the condom while still inside you. You kept your legs wrapped around his hips as you both rode out the last of your orgasms together.

“How you do you think Medina is going to react?” You whispered as you laid against his chest, Jim laughed.

“I think she’ll be happy. She’s been waiting years for me to tell you how I feel.”

“YEARS?”

____________________

I’ve had this finished for a couple days, but I kinda hated it so I put it off, edited it a little. But I wanna post it before the new season or I never will. Hope you guys liked it anyways lol :)

Requests OPEN

Everything Taglist - @wroteclassicaly @manyimaginativemuses @unholyromanoff @thispandaisbored @queencocoakimmie @daadddysprincesss @ms-mead  @mega-combusken​ @desidia-1​

If you want to be added/removed send me an ask :) My everything taglist is for everything, including blurbs. I can also add you to separate tag lists for specific characters like just Michael/ just Duncan, etc.

(I edited this entire fic and tumblr wouldn’t post it. I thought I was gonna die) 

[rosy-chimchim]

Sweet As Can Be

Genre: F L U F F, a little nsfw at points, lots of ice cream and smooches Word Count: 10k baby Summary: Summer jobs blow, but boy are you glad that the cute ice cream scoop decided to work this summer break (This whole idea came from me falling in love worth Scoops Ahoy and Steve Harrington in Stranger Things season 3, but it’s nothing like Stranger Things lol.)

it was hot out

Like REALLY HOT

You know that type of humid sticky hot that feels like the air is just suffocating you in it’s yucky blanket of heat

That type of hot

You could feel yourself melting with each step you took home,,,it was just nasty

Each owner of the little mom and pop shops you’d pass by would give you a sympathetic smile or wave as you struggled on your trek home,,,oOf they knew it was bad out there

It was horrible >:(

All you wanted was to be at home laying in front of an industrial fan, drinking some cold goddamn water

Maybe not an industrial fan that would be really aggressive,,,a moderately sized but still powerful fan

You had been planning on relaxing by the beach this afternoon 

You even packed a cute little beach bag with a sandwich, a juice box, a towel, sunscreen, and some books you were reading!!!

but you forgot to check the weather and weren’t expecting this ~𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝔀𝓪𝓿𝓮~ to hit and hit HARD

You set out for your beach adventure all excited to finally get a relaxing afternoon to yourself and the wonderful ocean!

But as you continued your journey to the beach, the temperature began to increase, going from a temperate 80 degrees fahrenheit with a nice breeze here and there to a WHOPPING 96 degrees with intense humidity and literally no breeze

Like wtf

Halfway to the beach you decided to call it, it was way too hot and the thought of steaming like a lobster on the sand wasn’t very appealing anymore

Throughout your walk home you had eaten your sandwich and drank your juice box

It wasn’t even a big juice box it was like one of those stupid Motts Kids juice boxes that only contains like 5 sips of juice, anyway-

Your tummy was rumbling and you were slowly giving into the idea of getting food

You scanned the block you were walking for any place to grab something to eat

There was a flower shop, not an option

A salon, once again,,, thats a no go

Rows and rows of apartments, lucky bastards in their air conditioned homes

Your eyes fall on a yellow and pink building, it sticks out like a sore thumb around the chicer buildings in the area

Walking closer you read the shops sign 

‘Scoopies Frozen Treats: Authentic Ice Cream Parlor!’

PERFECT

Pushing the double doors open, you hear a little bell go off signifying the workers you were here

The…wor…kers??

There was nobody here 

No one was behind the counter or the rows and rows of ice cream tubs

ICE CREAM TUBS

With hesitant steps and a few more glances around the parlor you walked up to the glass window where the ice cream was held

The colors and flavors were mesmerizing, they all looked so delicious 

Of course you had your classics: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, etc.

But there were also some more interesting flavors: lemon poppyseed, honey pistachio, PB&J swirl, Sour Patch kids and more

Entranced by the varying flavors you never heard the back door being pushed open by a grumbling boy

Or the sound of his feet as he made his way over to you

“Hi welcome-“

“HOLY SHIT”

“-to Scoopies?”

You swear you jumped five feet in the air from being startled

Damn he got you good,,,real big spook

Composing yourself and trying to will away the flush of embarrassment you finally look up at the boy who just gave you the scare of your life

“Yes, h-hi, hello. Jesus you really startled me wOW.” You managed to cough out

Wow really articulate 

Your jumpy nerves did not settle when you focused on the employee in front of you

oh

Oh wow he’s really cute

Black fluffy hair, pale skin, cute eyes that were scrunched up to match the look of a somewhat grumpy concern on his face

And to top it all off,,,a Scoopies uniform

A light pink and white striped t shirt with a yellow apron which had a smiling ice cream cone on it 

The text underneath the cone said “I’m as sweet as our ice cream!” SNORT

The pout that he was wearing seemed to speak otherwise

“Soooo are you gonna get anything?”

Oh right you were here for ice cream

“Yeah! Could I please have two scoops of strawberry please?”

You totally didn’t flash your brightest smile at him in hopes that he would think you were as cute as you thought he was nope not at all

Giving you a nod, he pulled out his scooper and began to fill your order

And not to like,,, drool or anything but his hands be lookin NICE while he grips that ice cream scooper 

Making your way to the register you wait for the boy to finish scooping your order

“$3.50 is your total”

You hand over your money and he grabs it

Your eyes follow up his arm to look at his pretty face again

His hair was puffy and tousled, most likely from the humidity along with his slightly rosy cheeks,,, damn it must suck to be working right now 

You glance toward his chest, hoping to find a name tag

BINGO THERE IT IS

“Hi my name is Yoongi!”

Yoongi,,,,cute name

“Here’s your change, have a good afternoon.”

Grabbing both your change and ice cream you start to head out the door when you remember 

The smoldering heat that awaits outside

Gross, like mega gross

You really didn’t want to face that again, not after being in the cool ice cream parlor

You glanced around the shop, there were only three tables and part of you didn’t feel like sitting at a table alone,,,that felt a little sad 

The were pink stools and a counter next to the ice cream display and that seemed like a perfect place to sit your little butt down and enjoy your treat

You set your bag on the seat next to you and started to eat your ice cream and holy shit did it hit the spot

You almost moaned out loud about how good the cold creamy treat felt on your parched throat,,,it was delicious

Continuing to eat, you let your eyes wander in search for Yoongi, the cute ice cream boy

You really couldn’t help yourself

He was fiddling around with some equipment, you’re not really sure cause all you could focus on was his face tbh

He was very very pretty like one of the prettiest people you’d ever seen

Something about him just entrances you

He looked like the cute boy next door type that you dreamed about as a kid

Okay you gotta look away now this staring thing is getting kind of creepy 

You continued to eat your ice cream only occasionally glancing toward the cute boy

Again you really couldn’t help yourself!!!

It was quite the shock when you saw him starting to walk over to you 

This is your chance!!! Trying to talk to him is now your mission

Yoongi spritzed the glass display and began to clean it when he heard a voice cut through the silence of the parlor

“It must be hard working on such a hot day like this huh?” 

Oh you were still here, he thought you had left a while back

Okay that’s such a lie he knew you were still here but was just trying to ignore you so he wouldn’t get distracted while cleaning and possibly knock something over and make a fool of himself

You were sweet(and really cute but you didn’t hear that from him), the sweetest customer he had all day, it seemed you fit the Scoopies “sweet as ice cream” slogan better than any of the employees

He was used to dealing with middle aged mothers coming in and barking orders at him about how they want to try this or that or how they only want this flavor but they were sold out of it but they wanted it anyways and-

It was safe to say that you were a very needed change of pace

Lost in his own thoughts, Yoongi realized he forgot to respond to your question

Your smile drops as you only get a grunt in reply to your question

Dang, not very talkative 

You brace yourself and try and shoot your shot one more time

“Have you been very busy today? Ya know because of how warm it is?”

His eyes flicker up to yours and stare blankly for a second

Shit maybe you shouldn’t have pushed your luck and asked a second question 

Oh noooo now he thinks you’re weird for asking him so many questions when he was clearly just trying to do his job and clean 

In your head your beginning to formulate a plan of how to leave as quickly as possible without looking like a crazy person, oh god you can never walk on this block again in fear of him seeing you

“Honestly not as many as you’d think.”

OH 

OH WEVE GOT A HIT

WE’VE GOT A PROPERLY WORDED RESPONSE 

Your smile reaches your ears as you respond “it’s probably cause no one wants to leave their little air conditioned paradises and face the nasty heat.”

He gives you his own little smile in response 

“Yeah I think that’s it.”

That little gummy smile sent your way made yours grow even larger

The silence between you two comes back but not for long

“Soooo, why did you leave your ‘air conditioned paradise’ today?”

ALERT ALERT HE JUST INITIATED THE CONVERSATION WHICH TRANSLATES THAT HES NOT ANNOYED BY YOOOUUU

You go into your whole spiel of how you were going to the beach but didn’t think to check the weather and look you even made this cute bag and all!!!

And he watched you, trying not to smile too big at the animated way you moved as you talked

Your hands flew all over the place and your eyebrows furrowed and unfurrowed at different points in the story, depending on the intensity 

Once you finished the retelling of your day, you took a deep breathe

Talking about this heatwave got you really worked up

An understanding expression graced Yoongi’s features and he nodded

“That’s pretty rough. I missed my bus today and walked here in the heat too.”

“Isn’t just horrible out there?”

Yoongi was nice to talk to, there weren’t very many awkward pauses and your conversation kept him occupied while he cleaned

You had finished your ice cream a long time ago and now just sat at the counter, swiveling in your stool as you listened to Yoongi intently 

But still, you knew that you couldn’t stay in that ice cream parlor forever even though you wanted to, very much so :(

You got up and threw your empty cup in the trash and gathered your bag, making sure you were leaving with everything you came with

Yoongi has gone back to cleaning the display, a little sad that you were leaving so soon

Even though it wasn’t “so soon” and you had been there a solid 45 minutes 

As you were walking out the door you yelled “See you later!” over your shoulder and proceeded with your walk home

He muttered a soft “Bye” he doubts you heard but it’s the thought that counts

Yoongi stands back at the register twiddling his thumbs and replaying your conversation over in his head

Your conversation 

You

HE NEVER ASKED YOU FOR YOUR NAME

WHAT KIND OF DOOFUS DOESNT ASK THE PRETTY GIRL HES BEEN CHATTING WITH FOR HER NAME

A YOONGI KIND OF DOOFUS APPARENTLY 

He just prays that you come back to visit him so he can properly get to know you :(

You did say “see you later” so he hopes that’s a good sign

That later comes sooner than expected and you find yourself walking into Scoopies two days later

This time there’s a bit of a line but you wait, bouncing on your heels and hoping that time would move a little faster

You gotta see your cinnamon apple!!!!

Well not really YOUR cinnamon apple

He doesn’t really know you like that

Anyway the line finally shortens and your excited cause not only do you get to see Yoongi but you also get ice cream!!

You walk up to the register all confidently ready to woo Yoongi right then and there

Only to be greeted by a different employee

A shock of light pink hair and a nice smile

His name tag said “Hi my name is Jimin!” With a bunch of hearts and flowers doodle around it

“Hi there! What can I get for you today?”

“Oh um, could I please have two scoops of cookie dough please?”

Mission of woo cute ice cream scoop failed, target not in range and not serving you

But Jimin was very sweet to you and your pretty sure he gave you a little extra ice cream instead of just two scoops

You took a seat at the counter, peaking around equipment to see if Yoongi was hiding behind anything

He’s pretty small lol

Got ‘em

Anyway, no luck he wasn’t tucked in any crevice of the parlor

“Excuse me?”

Jimin turns toward you 

Oh shit no this probably isn’t a smart 

“Is-is he here?”

“Is who here?”

Again super articulate questioning you goof

“Um Yoongi! Is Yoongi here? Today?”

Jimin smiled, he likes your personality, you remind him of an over excited puppy always tripping over themselves

“No he isn’t in right now.”

You smile falters and you glance down 

Suddenly your feet dangling off the stool became very interesting 

“Okay, that’s fine.” You send him a small smile trying to mask your slight disappointment 

You barely knew this dude but you were upset you didn’t get to see him working? Jesus girl get a grip 

“Buuuut, he’ll be here in 15 minutes for his next shift!”

Your head shoots up from the ground

“Oh! Okay perfect!” 

You grin widens as Jimin laughs at your reaction

“How do you know Yoongi? Are you a friend of his?”

How do you explain your infatuation with Yoongi

“Well not friends exactly,,,I’d like to be his friend! He helped me yesterday and we just kind of hit it off ya know?” 

Jimin wiggles his eyebrows at you

“Ooooh hit it off huh?”

Your face immediately flushes pink 

“No no no not like hit it off in a romantic sense!! Like platonically!! Buddies! Pals! I mean I do think he’s cute but it’s just friendly conversation, we’re amigos even!”

“So you think he’s cute?”

“Yes but that’s not the point I’m trying to make right now!”

Jimin giggles at your panicked response

“It’s okay calm down I’m not trying to give you a heart attack.” He says through his laughter

Phew okay he doesn’t think it’s weird

“I’ll put in a good word with your so called ‘amigo’ about you.” 

He shoots you a wink and you give him a shy smile along with a quiet “Thank you”

You passed the time by eating your ice cream and scrolling through your phone

Something about Yoongi gave you butterflies in you stomach that you were currently trying to control

You continued to scroll on your phone trying to find interesting articles to pass the time

Oooh top ten smartest animals!

You quickly became engrossed with the article that ranged from poodles to dolphins, cooing at the cute pictures of animals

Meanwhile, Yoongi enters the parlor from the back entrance and changes into his apron

Tying it around his neck, he peeked through the little window on the break room door

Damn it looked busier than normal, his arms are gonna be so tired

He pouted a little, scanning the tables when his eyes landed on the counter

Holy shit

It was you!!!

You were sitting at the counter in all your glory!!

You’re wearing your hair different than last time, it’s cute uwu 

Okay Yoongi collect yourself, you need a plan to approach her calmly

Just go up to her and start talking like you did last time, the conversation flowed so naturally it can’t be that hard

Taking a deep breathe, he burst through the door 

…a little too enthusiastically causing you to glance up from your phone

Oh shit abort mission

You had the brightest most gorgeous eyes, so full of hope and wonder

Damn it now he’s just staring at you, speak Yoongi speak

“Hi.”

You blinked at him owlishly 

“Hello.”

“It’s you.”

“…it is me.” You blinked again.

He gulped a little

You made him so nervous!!

“…h-hi.”

You tried to suppress a small grin forming on your face as you watched him fumble for his words

Okay so you aren’t the only nervous one here

“I thought we had already gotten through our greetings?”

He smiled a little at your sarcastic comment

“That we did, you are correct.”

You smiled at him fully, and reached a hand out to him

“I never introduced myself, I’m y/n.”

He stared at your hand a bit before taking it in his own and giving it a little shake.

“I’m Yoongi.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

You pulled your hand away, which made him a little :(((, and pointed at his name tag

Oh

Duh

He fidgeted a little before asking, “Can I get you anything?”

You looked down at your ice cream, “Jimin helped me already.”

Oh yeah he wasn’t the only one working 

“But I would enjoy some company if you have the chance?”

Apparently you were feeling extra bold today

He glanced back at Jimin at the register and found him staring back at him

He winked and nodded his head, he could handle the shop alone for a bit

And if Yoongi had a possibility to get a girlfriend he would gladly run the shop alone whenever asked

Maybe Yoongi getting laid once in a while would make him less grumpy, Jimin chuckled to himself

Your conversation flowed, hopping from topic to topic with easy laughter mixed in

You showed him the article on the world’s smartest animals and showed him the video attached to it

It was Koko the gorilla you couldn’t NOT show him!

Yoongi spent most of his time watching your reactions to the video instead of watching it himself whoops

You talked for what felt like hours when in reality it was only 30 minutes

“Yoongi I hate to break it to you but it’s time for my lunch break so I need you to sling ice cream for a bit.”

Yoongi looked at you with a little disappointment 

You were having such a good conversation:((( he didn’t want to go back to slinging ice cream :(((

“Don’t worry I’ll still be here when your done.”

He smiled at that, perfectly content to do his job if you were waiting for him

You watched him as he works, smiling at the way he would talk to little kids when they came in with their parents 

He was so sweet to them, giving his little gummy smile and asking what they wanted

Your phone buzzes from your pocket 

A text message from your best friend

Girls night starting in 10, you coming?

Damn you completely forgot about girls night 

Yup! I’ll be there in five!

You catch Yoongi’s eye, frowning at him and telling him you have to leave, “Girls night awaits, can’t miss it.”

Yoongi nods, a tiny frown threatening to break out on his face

“I’ll be back, when do you work next.”

He looked back up at you, “tomorrow, 12:30-3:00.”

You smiled widely, “I’ll be there, see you tomorrow.”

You kept your promise, showing up to Scoopies only a little hungover from girls night 

And you continued to show up to Scoopies a few days out of the week

You restricted yourself to only three cause you did have other things to do and you’ve been wasting a lot of money on ice cream

Eventually you learned the cycle of workers and who worked what shifts

There was Jimin, who mainly worked the afternoon shifts with Yoongi

Jungkook, who worked mornings before Yoongi and Jimin got there, sometimes sticking around for an afternoon shift if they were really busy

And Namjoon and Hoseok, who took the night shift + closing

You really enjoyed your visits to Scoopies, everyone was kind and charming and it was cold in there giving you an escape from summer heat

But you were upset 

Your relationship with Yoongi wasn’t progressing outside of your little chats inside the parlor

You wanted more, to see him outside of his job

and also be outside the parlor so the temptation of buying ice cream almost every day wouldn’t be a problem

It was currently 2:15 and you were working up the nerve to ask Yoongi out

You even gave yourself a little pep talk on the way here to hype yourself up

It’s spooky, rejection is scary

Okay you just gotta do it, balls to the wall, all out boi

You cleared your throat

“Hey Yoongi, what time do you get off?”

He replied to you while he scooped ice cream, “Like in an hour, why?”

“Wanna walk me home when you’re done?”

Yoongi froze for a sec

You wanted him to walk you home??? Like just the two of you??? And you were willing to wait??

He furrowed his eyebrows, “an hours a pretty long time, are you sure you want to wait?”

“Of course! I brought some books to keep me entertained while I wait. And it’s much cooler here than it is at my apartment.”

“You brought books? Were you planning on waiting for me today?”

You flushed bright red 

He caught you red handed >:(

“Nonononono nothing like that I just bring them everywhere. You see I get really bored really easily so I bring them to keep my attention on something ya know it just a habit now like I put them in my bag when I go anywhere cause ya know I don’t want to annoy people around me when I get kind of bored cause like-“

Yoongi smirked as he listened to you ramble on

“Y/n, that was a joke. Don’t freak out on me.”

You open and close your mouth a few times

You probably looked like a fish

“Oh a joke. Ha ha okay that makes sense.” 

You scratch your head nervously and grab a book, opening to a random page so you could focus on something that wasn’t Yoongis teasing stare

Your nervous glancing around the page quickly morphed into fixated reading as you became more invested in the story line 

You always felt that reading was a very good way to pass time, getting lost in a world that wasn’t yours

You changed positions on your stool multiple times while reading: sitting cross legged, kneeling, crossing your legs, resting your head on the counter, it was a habit

Yoongi noticed every time you shifted, smiling to himself

When you read you were still energetic and responsive 

An hour passed by and Yoongi went into the back room to change

As he climbed the mountain, he heard the shrieks and groans of the creatures in the forest. He wasn’t alone out there, there were millions of-

A tap on your shoulder startles you

“Oops sorry, should’ve given you a warning. Ready to go?”

You pack your books and hop of the stool with a “yup!”

The two of you exit the parlor 

You walk a block in silence 

This is weird, neither of you are talking

“What are“ “What do you-“ both of you say at the same time.

You laugh a little, “you go first.”

He clears his throat, “What are some of your hobbies? Besides reading obviously.”

“Well, I like writing, um painting is pretty fun too! I like to go to the beach and people watch sometimes.”

 He chuckles, “why people watching?”

“It’s really interesting, when I people watch I realize ‘woah I’m not the only person in the world who has a life and good friends and aspirations and stuff’. It’s out of body and humbling. Oh it’s also really funny to watch people who buy soft pretzels get attacked by seagulls.”

Wow

You were philosophical AND cute

A total dreamboat if you ask Yoongi

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I do that at work sometimes.”

“So what do you do when you’re not scooping ice cream?”

Yoongi stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down, “oh I sometimes compose music. I really like playing the piano too.”

Your expression brightens, “You have to let me listen sometime! I mean, only if your comfortable sharing of course, I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want to.”

He glances at you threw his bangs, “I think that’s a pretty good idea, I’ve already had my friends listen to it a bunch so I need some new ears to test it on.”

In no time, you arrive at your apartment complex

“Can I-“ “Is it okay-“

You roll your eyes playfully, “we have got to stop doing that it’s so cheesy

Yoongi nods and smiles “I totally agree. I went first last time so it’s your turn now.”

Okay now here’s the true test of your bravery

You’ve been preparing yourself to do this almost everyday and here’s your shot

“Can I get your number, maybe?”

There it is, your shooting your shot once more

“Oh yeah, yeah for sure. Here, gimme your phone.”

You hand him your phone and he diligently types in the numbers

“I’ll see you soon y/n.”

SWOON YOU GOT YOONGI’S NUMBER

You shoot him a text as soon as you step inside your apartment, Hey this is y/n!

Oof was the exclamation point to much?

You place your phone on the kitchen counter, too nervous to hold onto it and wait for a reply

The fridge looks very tempting and you tummy rumbles for real food

You only had breakfast and ice cream today oops

Bending over, you glance at the assortment of food

Strawberries, peppers, leftover pizza, grilled chicken-

Buzz buzz

You launch yourself into a standing position

You also subsequently hit your head on the freezer section above your fridge 

Ouchy that one stings

Grabbing your phone you check the notification

Hey it’s Yoongi ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

Did you get a concussion from banging your head too hard? Cause Min Yoongi does not seem like the type of guy to send emotions 

Little did you know Yoongi was pacing his room wondering if the emoticon was a bad choice to send with his first text

You smile and type your reply

Hi there (〃￣ω￣〃)

To say the least, you two texted each other almost everyday, sometimes talking absolute nonsense that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else

Do you think dogs in different countries have different accents when they bark?

Y/n, go to sleep it’s 2:00 a.m

It’s a serious question （；へ：）

Or it was deep philosophical questions that neither of you really had the answer to

Is it worth understanding everything about our universe and planet if we don’t know why we were put on earth in the first place?

Holy shit y/n I don’t know, please go back to talking about dogs before I have an existential crisis 

You also continued your walks home together, it was nice cause Yoongi only lived a few blocks away from you

The two of you discovered different layers of the other’s personality 

Yoongi was goofy, like goofier than you expected

You’ve caught him dancing by himself in the parlors kitchen multiple and even when he sees you he doesn’t shy away, trying to drag you to dance with him

He was also a very sleepy boi, staying up too late to finish a song or practice piano :(((

And you’re always like get rest you goofball take care of yourself, but you secretly enjoy the little pout that takes over his face and half closed eyes when he’s close to drifting off during breaks

You also adoringly dubbed his break time as ‘nap time for the baby’

Yoongi already knew you were energetic but he didn’t know just how far your energy went

On the very rare night that Jimin and Yoongi would be stuck with closing, you’d stay around and help clean up

Loud music blasted in the parlor, thanks to your phone hooked up to the speakers and you were bouncing around the shop, cleaning fast with a big smile on your face

He thinks that’s the fastest Scoopies has ever been closed

And you were a deep thinker! Yoongi liked to listen to how you interpret different things and how you problem solved

Speaking of problems

It was Friday and you hadn’t been able to visit Scoopies 

Today was cleaning day and you had scrubbed your entire apartment top to bottom until it shined

Yoongi said the parlor was too busy anyway, you wouldn’t have had time to sit down and talk

Plus he went to a movie with Jimin and Jungkook after his shift so he couldn’t have walked you home either

You were currently in your pajamas (even though it was only like,,,6:45) and dancing around your kitchen while cooking up some dinner

Your music cut out slightly as your phone buzzed

Yoongi!

Hey, what are your plans for tomorrow? 

Besides showering, literally nothing

Wanna grab lunch and hang out at mine? Or something?

BROOOO

WAS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING 

Your fingers fidget to text a reply and your heart is pounding in your ears 

The sound of you thumbs tapping on the screen seem louder than usual

Yeah I would love to!

Yoongi gasps as he reads your response

Wow

He didn’t think this would actually work

Woah you actually said yes, this is incredible

His smile grows as he texts you back

Cool! How does 12:30 sound? ୧⍢⃝୨

Sounds perfect Yoongs ۹(˒௰˓)۶

You turned your music up louder and danced harder around your kitchen 

You ate quickly and watched a little tv, checking the time every now and then

Gotta get to bed early tonight so you actually wake up at a reasonable time to get ready tomorrow, oversleeping is a horrible habit 

It was a little difficult trying to sleep since you were practically vibrating with excitement but eventually drift off into dreamland

You wake up to your alarm going off and instinctively hit snooze

Close your eyes for three more minutes

….

They shoot back open and you practically bounce out of bed

It’s showtime baby!!!

Your music is bumping as you slide into the shower, singing and dancing while getting clean

Scrub a dub dub bitch

Styling you hair, you find yourself putting a little more effort in that usual

That goes for your makeup too

It feels like one of those montages from a 90s movie of a girl getting ready to go on a date with her dream guy

Except it was really happening to you!!!

You skip to your closet to pick out an outfit

That’s when you nerves decide to hit you right then and there 

Was this a date?

Was there like a certain dress code for where you were going?

Were any of your good shirts clean?

IS THIS A DATE?

You throw around multiple outfits, a cute top with jeans, a cute top with jean shorts, a romper, a dress

Was the dress too much?

The intercom buzzes and you rush to answer

TOO LATE TO CHANGE YOUR OUTFIT NOW YOU GOTTA GO

The elevator ride down seemed excruciatingly long for some reason and you basically bolt out of it when you reach the main floor

Yoongi is waiting outside the glass doors, scrolling through his phone

Woah

Where did your sweet little ice cream boy go?

He was in ripped jeans and a black tee, he had a few rings on his fingers, his hair wasn’t as tousled, it looked well styled and-

Are those earrings?

This is love, you’re in love

He spots you through the door and waves and you realize you’ve been standing there like an idiot for too long

“Hey you.”

Wow, your mind, such a great greeting

“Hi, cute dress.”

Nailed it on the outfit, mental high five for that

You guys walk to a small cafe a few blocks away

Lunch goes swimmingly and your meal is super yummy

Your feet keep bumping Yoongis under the table but he doesn’t seem to mind so you keep letting them brush up against his every once in a while

“So since when have you had your ears pierced?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I got them when I was 16, but I’m not allowed to wear any earrings at work due to dress code policy. Why, do you not like them?”

“No I like them a lot actually, they make you look pretty handsome.”

Oh dang you got him blushing big time now 

Yoongi kicks you foot a little underneath the table in retaliation for making him flustered

You giggle and kick him back

This starts an all out kick war between the two of you, both trying to make the other surrender

Too bad you were wearing open toed shoes

“Ow ow ow okay I give in you win, you win Yoongi.”

He folds his arms with a smug look on his face while you pout 

“You’re mean Yoongi, you hurt me.” 

“You started it.”

“What? I gave you a compliment and you hit me! I want an apology.” :(

Your cheeks are all puffed out and you leaning against your hands and you’re so FREAKING CUTE HE HAS TO APOLOGIZE IMMEDIATELY

Literally the embodiment of (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑), he had to apologize 

Grabbing your hands away from your face, he takes them in his and gives them a squeeze 

“I’m sorry I hurt your precious little feet, will you ever forgive me?”

He presses your hands to his own cheeks

SKREEEEE

Your honestly frozen and don’t know how to react

HES USUALLY NOT THIS CUTE WHAT DO YOU DO

Clearing your throat a little you try and put together a sentence that would make some sort of sense

“I guess I can find it in my gracious heart to forgive this one time.”

Wow that was more put together than usual

He gave a little smile before patting your hands and telling you it’s time to go

GO TO HIS HUMBLE ABODE (∩╹□╹∩)

You were extremely excited to see what his house was like

Being in people’s homes reveals like thousands of more layers of themself and you were so happy that Yoongi trusted you enough to show you (｡･･｡)

Yoongi unlocks his door and ushers you inside

The main room is beautiful 

Large windows with white curtains, black sofa and armchair, a tv and the jewel herself

A beautiful black piano in the corner of the room

The whole aesthetic was very minimalist but very Yoongi

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“…do you have any juice?”

Once you get your glass of apple juice and Yoongi has his (boring) water, you two sit on the couch and just talk

It’s not often that you find someone that can speak to you so easily

It’s a nice kind of feeling not gonna lie

Your eyes keep wandering back to the piano 

“Can you play me something?”

He followed your eyes to the piano 

“Oh uh yeah sure, sure I can.” 

Why is he so nervous he’s been playing the piano since he was a little kid

This isn’t any different

He scooched over so you could sit next to him on the bench

While Yoongi played you were mesmerized 

His fingers drifted across the keys gently and played radiant luxurious melodies

You closed your eyes as you listened, the song making a world bloom in your mind

It was absolutely one of the most beautiful things you’ve heard 

His arms would brush up against yours and your stomach when he had to reach a key on the higher register

It gave you goosebumps and butterflies if you’re being honest

When the song finished, the room reverberated the last chord until it was silent again

“Wow.” 

You couldn’t put your feelings into words, it was incredible how the song moved you

Eyes peeling back open, you moved to look at Yoongi

Woah

He was a lot closer than you remember 

Your noses were almost touching and you could feel his breath on your cheeks 

He glanced from you eyes to your lips in a silent ask for permission 

You did the same

You were about to kiss Min Yoongi

YOU WERE ABOUT TO KISS MIN YOONGI

Ring ring! Ring ring! RING RING!

Your phone is incredibly loud in the quiet room 

Looking down at said phone in your hand, the caller idea flashes up at you angrily

Mom!

Shoot you really should take this, your mom barely calls so when she does she gets very upset when you don’t answer

You move out of the intimate position, mumbling “sorry it’s my mom I gotta answer”

“Oh yeah, um you can step outside if you want.”

“Thanks.”

Dang it dang it dang it dang it

You were so freaking close to getting a smooch

Apparently your mom wanted to come over to your apartment and have dinner

Meanwhile Yoongi has not left the piano bench since you got up

Your face was so close to his only moments ago and it replays in his head over and over

He tried to memorize every little feature of your face before he kissed you

More like tried to kiss you

“Yoongi?” Your head pops in the door

“Yeah what’s up?” 

You walk toward the bench and sit back down next to him

“My moms coming over for dinner so I have to go back home and get prepped.”

His shoulders drop and he caves in on himself a bit

“Oh okay, can I walk you home?”

“Actually I was wondering if you wanted to help me? If that’s okay?”

It is WAY more than okay with Yoongi

The air between you is a little thick with tension on the way to yours

Thicc

Thiqué

But the mood lightens when you ask Yoongi about his cooking skills

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, it’s definitely not my forte.”

“Alright I’m putting you on mincing and DJ duty, please be careful with the knife.”

The elevator ride was filled with laughter and snorts (Yoongi did it a few times but he swears it was you)

You decide to make black beans with peppers and rice

Yoongi does a really good job as DJ

As the water boils for the beans and rice, you two are running around your kitchen and dancing and singing with each other 

A dramatic rendition of Endless Love by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross happens, naturally 

Half way through your duet, there’s a knock on the door

Shoooot, moms here and Yoongi is too

That means she’s going to want to meet him and ask him for his entire life story right then and there

The door swings open and there she is in all her glory

“My cutie!!!”

You greet her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek

“Hi mama, how are you?”

“Oh I’m just gr-“

She already spotted Yoongi standing behind you, his hands tucked in his pockets and shifting his weight nervously

“Y/n! You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend!”

“WHAT? Oh no no mom this is Yoongi, my friend from the ice cream shop remember!”

She looked him up and down

Yoongi literally shrunk under her stare

For someone smaller than him, she was wildly intimidating 

Also finally, there was someone smaller than him

Lol got ‘em again

She gave him one more once over before leaning over to you and saying

“You right he is a cutie pie, even cuter in person I think!”

“OKAY MOM SO GLAD YOU MET YOONGI I’M GONNA TAKE HIM DOWNSTAIRS AND SHOW HIM OUT!”

Yoongi’s laughter bounced off the walls as you all but pushed him out the door

“It was great meeting you Mrs. y/l/n! Hope to see you soon!”

“KEEP IT MOVING YOONGS.”

The elevator ride was silent

You kept staring at your shoes, moving you feet

Putting the right one forward and pulling it back

Moving the left one forward and then pulling it back

In a cycle

A black boot nudged your right foot before you had the chance to pull it back again

“You okay?”

You looked up at Yoongi, his eyebrows drawn in with genuine concern

Daw, he’s worried :(

A small smile finds its way into your face

“Yeah I am. Sorry about my mom back there, she’s pretty forward when it comes to…well everything.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that. But it’s okay, I liked her a lot.”

You snorted, “Of course you liked her, she complimented you and completely embarrassed me. That’s like two of your favorite things.”

“you know you’re not wrong about that.” And he nudges your shoulder with his

The contact sent a little shock of electricity through you but you’ll never admit it

Over your dead body >:(

You stick your tongue out at him and cross your arms

“I don’t deserve to be bullied by you and my own mother.”

The elevator was wrapped in comfortable silence for a while until Yoongi decided to break it with the most idiotic question

“Soooo, I’m cuter in person?”

Ding! The elevator reaches the main doors and you shove yoongi out of them

“Get out of here you dork!”

“What no goodbye hug?”

You step out after him

It’s time to be bold again y/n

Grabbing him by the shoulders, you plant a phat kiss on his cheek

Like not like a quick little peck, a pretty sizable kiss

Your pretty sure you can see a lip print on his cheek from what was left of your lipstick and gloss when you pull away

“Bye Yoongi.”

You walk into the elevator and the doors close behind you

And yoongi is just left there with this dopey look on his face as he places his hand over his cheek 

His face feels warm and he’s certain he is flushed bright red but can’t find it in himself to care

You kissed him!!

Well, not exactly KISSED him kissed him but your lips made contact with his skin

He stumbles out the door and all the way with a grin plastered on his face

All the while in the elevator, your pumping your fists up and down and celebrating your success

You kissed him and left him a big flustered mess without becoming one yourself until you got in the elevator 

You left him shook

And duh, you told your mom what happened during dinner and she gave you a high five

“So when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your food, “MOM.”

“What? It’s just a simple question!”

When Monday rolled around, you found yourself very nervous as you took your usual route to Scoopies 

You and Yoongi haven’t texted each other a bunch since you decided to send him home with a kiss on the cheek

Thinking about it makes you blush and your hands fidget in your shorts pockets with nervous energy 

You didn’t really know what you and Yoongi were???

You were obviously interested in him duh, and he seemed kinda interested in you too but you didn’t know if either of you had the balls to do anything about it

It was this weird kind of like being stuck in limbo

Oh yeah limbo reminds you that you should invite Yoongs over to watch Inception some time

Honestly an incredible movie

With Yoongi and a possible movie date on the brain, you walk into Scoopies 

Jimin greets you at the register with a blinding smile and you give one back

“Cookie dough or strawberry today?”

“Hmm good question. Let’s go with strawberry.”

He scoops your ice cream while you look around the shop for a certain boy

That’s weird??? Why is Jimin working alone?? Usually Yoongi and even sometimes Jungkook is with him

You reach for your wallet when Jimin stops you

“This one is on the house, and don’t try to change my mind.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you question “what’s the occasion?”

“Just trying to make you as happy as you made ‘Yoongs’ this weekend.”

You blink a few times before smiling and grabbing your ice cream

“Thanks Jimin.”

The seat at the counter was now your acclaimed spot and you took a load off there

More customers came and went but there was still no sign of Yoongi

You didn’t want to bother Jimin while he was working so you decided to just wait and see if he shows up 

“Look, I know you’ve been wanting to ask me where he is for like, the past 30 minutes. Yoongi’s in the kitchen with Jungkook, feel free to go back there.” He nods over his shoulder at the break room door

You immediately perk up, “You’re the best Jimin, I’ll be right back.”

You walk through the door and were about to go into the kitchen when you heard Yoongi’s voice 

“I just don’t know what to do about y/n man.”

Uh oh, what

You peek through the little window and see Yoongi sitting on one of the counters while talking to Jungkook who’s leaning against the freezer door

Aww how cute Yoongi’s feet barely touch the ground

Wait not what you should be focusing on right now

“I’m just so confused, I took her to lunch on Saturday and I thought it was going well but when we got back to my house, I tried to kiss her but she left the room to take a call right before I could.”

He pouted

You also pouted

Did Yoongi take that as a sign of rejection?? 

You honestly really needed to answer your phone but you understand how that could look bad to someone who was trying to smooch you

“But didn’t she also kiss you on the cheek when you left? That’s a good sign, right?” 

“But does that mean she’s not comfortable with actually kissing me? Would she want to kiss me?”

Jungkook leaned against the freezer in thought 

He looked toward the door

And locked eyes with you

You froze completely, you were just caught spying

A plan hatched in Jungkook’s brain

“Why don’t you ask her now?”

“What?” Jungkook nodded toward the door

Yoongi’s eyes also locked with yours and you try to lamely duck down like he didn’t just catch you

Jungkooks work here is done 

He walks out the kitchen door, kicking you a little and urging you to walk in and talk to Yoongles

You stand up and try to gather yourself

Well as much as you could right now

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open

Yoongi hadn’t moved an inch from his position on the counter

…

…….

Neither of you talked for the first minute

“I’m so-“ “Did I-“

Oh how old habits die hard

You cough a little then say, “I went first last time so it’s your turn.”

He smiled a little at that and breathed in deep before beginning

“Did I-did I freak you out when I tried to kiss you? Cause that really wasn’t my intent, I just thought I was reading the situation right and that you were as into it as I was and when you didn’t text me over the weekend it kind of freaked me out. I thought that I had somehow messed it up. To be honest with you, this is the first time I’ve liked a girl like this in a pretty long time so I just don’t-“

His sentence is cut off by the feeling of your hands grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips onto yours 

Oh

Oh this is nice

You slotted yourself in between his legs and slide your hand over to place it on his cheek

 But Yoongi isn’t really responding

in his shock he just kind of sits there unmoving

It isn’t until you start to pull away that he realizes that oh he can’t just sit there and be kissed, he has to kiss back

His hands cup your jaw as he leans down more, deepening the kiss

This is nice 

This is really nice

The nicest kiss he’s had in a long time

Yoongi thinks he could kiss you for hours if you’d let him

God he’s already addicted and it’s only your guys first kiss

You tasted like strawberries and he could smell your sweet perfume

His fingers thread through your hair at the back of your neck and you almost moan from the feeling

Your hands run down his chest and fall to his thighs, running them up and down

Okay this is getting a little too spicy for a work environment 

You pull away tentatively, eyes still closed as you catch your breath

“Does that answer your question?”

Yoongi takes a good look at you

out of breath with shiny red lips and half open eyes

Your pretty little eyes

“Yes it does, besides the texting thing, why didn’t you text me?”

“Hey I made the last move on our date, that was on you to follow up.”

He laughed, “you’re right you’re right” and leaned his forehead against yours

You two catch your breath for a bit, just drinking in the others appearance 

“So what does this mean for us?” Yoongi asks

“I was hoping it would mean that you’d be my boyfriend.”

Yoongi hums in fake contemplation before answering

“I think I like the sound of that, of course only if you’d be okay with being my girlfriend?”

“I guarantee, I am way more than okay with that.”

A bang on the door scares the hell out of you

“Hey lovebirds, I’m glad you two finally got together but the summer school rush is about to come in and we need all hands on deck, so wrap it up!”

Jimin gives you a thumbs up through the window as he walks away

Yoongi hops off the counter, “Sorry babe, duty calls.”

“Ooooh we’re already using pet names and haven’t even been dating for five minutes.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I hate you sometimes.”

You gasp and follow him out of the kitchen

“How dare you say that to your ‘babe’. I am deeply wounded.”

“Oh my god y/n.”

“You know, I was always more of a ‘sweetheart’ or a ‘baby’ type of girl.”

“I already regret agreeing to be your boyfriend.”

“I’m even okay with the occasional ‘honey’ here and there.”

Yoongi stops causing you to collide with his back

Ouch that kinda hurt your nose

You glare at Yoongi as he turns back around and you’re about to yell at him when he places the softest little kith on your lips

“We can continue this conversation when I’m finished with work…honey.”

Oh yeah you liked that one a lot

Unsurprisingly, not much changes in the dynamic of your relationship with Yoongi

Besides the added bonus that you get to kiss him any time you really feel like it

But he’s still an annoying (yet sometimes really shy even though he denies it) dork

And you’re still the energetic, book loving, attention grabbing girl he met way way back

 Speaking of books

Yoongi isn’t a very jealous person

He trusts you 

He is very comfortable with your relationship dynamics 

He doesn’t mind when you give your attention to the other people cause you are a human being 

So when he finds himself pouting while sitting on your couch while you read, he’s a little upset

You’ve been reading for HOURS now and haven’t been talking with him 

And, call him selfish, he wants some attention and some kisses okay?

He baby

“Y/n.”

A few seconds pass by before you answer with an uninterested “hm?”

“…pay attention to me.”

“Hm?”

He groaned, “Pay attention to me, I need some affection and I’ve been deprived of it for hours.”

You glance toward him and see a prominent pout on Yoongi’s face and oh no

He’s using his puppy dog eyes

Literally no human alive can resist those

It’s scientifically impossible 

But you just got to a really good part in your book and don’t want to stop just yet

You extend a hand toward him

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Um,,,hold it??? You big dummy???”

He takes a hold of your hand

And subsequently YANKS you toward him with NO warning what so ever

No joke, he’s a lot stronger than you thought but that also kind of hurt 

He adjusts you so your back is leaning against his chest and he has his arms wrapped around your shoulder and you kind of flush pink cause even though he was a little AGGRESSIVE  getting you into this position 

It’s really cute and romantic 

“Can I get one kiss before you go back to reading?”

You give him a little smooch and then turn back to your book 

He occasionally plants a kiss on the top of your head and plays with your hair

And even though it’s a little distracting (because who wouldn’t be distracted by the most beautiful man in the world giving you love) and you have to reread the same paragraph like seven times,

You love the domestic feeling the entire situation gives you

It makes your chest warm and paints the biggest smile on your face

He pushes your hair to the side and places a kiss behind your ear

OKAY THAT’S IT

YOU IMMEDIATELY NEED TO KISS YOUR LOVELY BOYFRIEND 

You practically throw the book onto the opposite side of the couch and climb onto Yoongi’s lap

And he’s like ‘woah woah what is happening, I mean I’m not mad about it but what is happening.’

And your domestic reading session turns into a makeout session real fast 

After like,,,15 minutes you neck is littered with marks and you probably have little bruises on your hips from how tiGHT yoongi was gripping on

You pull away to catch your breath and just admire Yoongi

“Hi there.”

“Hi.” He smiles he’s CUTE ASS gummy smile

And you press your forehead against his and just twirl his hair in you fingers and it’s just a blissful moment

“Soooo, do you wanna keep making out?”

God he’s an idiot 

But you go back to making out anyway

You end up riding him on the couch and I oop-

You thought he couldn’t get any pretty but you were so wrong

He looks ethereal falling apart underneath you and small moans fall from his swollen lips and it’s just perfect 

“Fuck, I love you.”

Oh shit maybe you shouldn’t have said that

You stop all movement

“You love me?”

Oh god

He sounds so vulnerable and quivering 

Partly because he was just about to bust the fattest nut lol

But also you loved him back

“I mean yeah,,,I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 By the time you’re finished you swear you could pass out

Yoongi really had his way with you lol

On the occasional visit that you make to Yoongi’s house, you beg him to play the piano for you

Usually he’s persuaded by a few smooches and plays 

You sit on the armchair close to the piano and watch 

He always gets so into it, you can tell that music means a lot to him

When you know a song he’s playing you hum along to yourself, making sure he can’t hear

That doesn’t last for long 

Yoongi is in the middle of playing when he notices 

Are you??

Are you singing along??

His hands stop moving and he turns to look at you

“Are you singing the song I’m playing?”

“Psssh whaaat? No, who would do that? I think you’re hearing things.”

“No I definitely heard you.”

“Maybe you should schedule a doctors appointment, there might be something wrong with your ears.”

He sighs

Fine

Two can play at that game

“I’m not playing until you come over here and sing to me.”

Damn it

Damn it you didn’t want to sing but you really wanted him to play 

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

His eyes soften as he hears your meek little reply

“Of course not.”

You end up caving and standing next to the piano and singing

And Yoongi looks at you like you had created the universe, full of love 

Daw you’re blushing 

You’re not the only one in the relationship that appreciates the others talent

“Yoongi I already told you a thousand times, I mostly paint landscapes and not people. If I tried it would probably come out all wonky.”

“Pleaassee, can you just try? I promise I’ll love it even if it’s ugly.”

“HEY.”

“Which it won’t be!!” He pulls his chair so he’s sitting across from you

“Have at it Picasso, draw me like one of your French girls.”

You snort, “that was disgusting.”

You grab a mini canvas and some paint 

Here goes nothing

You can’t deny it, you liked staring at yoongi for an hour while you drew and painted

He was quite the looker

Damn you got lucky

And Yoongi liked watching you while you painted

Your brows furrow and your lips purse, you were so concentrated 

Ugh the cutest

After an hour you place you brushes down 

“Okay, it’s done.”

You slowly hand the painting over to him

It’s nerve wracking

You know he’ll say he loves it but will he actually???

A slightly cartoonish but beautiful version of himself stares up at him

It was amazing

Truly it was

“I love it.”

And you could tell he was being sincere about it

Of course you still visited Scoopies, honestly more often than you used to

You still sat at the same stool and kept casual conversation with Yoongi while he worked

But the break room

That’s where shit went down

It was kind of like your designated makeout spot

Since only two or three people worked at a time, no one’s breaks lined up so you had the room alone >:)))

Oh the sexual escapades that room has seen

You were currently sat on the table while Yoongi stood between your legs 

And his hands were slowly creeping in closer on your thighs

Oh ho hooo boi

It was getting hot in here 

Your hands roam his chest and find their way back into his hair

Giving it a little tug, Yoongi lets out a moan into your mouth

His hands run up your back and start to unclasp your bra

“You guys are literally feral oh my god try and keep it in your pants.”

You don’t see Jimin’s face but you see his hair bob into the kitchen and toward the freezer

Whoops

You start giggling and that sets Yoongi off too

You’re eventually crying with laughter and  leaning into Yoongi’s neck trying to calm down

Sometimes you think about the future

And it’s a terrifying thing

Summer can’t last forever you know that

Eventually you’ll have to go back to classes at uni

Even though your universities are only 20 minutes away, you afraid about how much time school will take up

With tests

And finals

And projects

And presentations and finding actual stable jobs for both of you

Yoongi grabs your hand without even looking away from the movie your watching

He chose Ratatouille

A man with taste

It’s like he read your mind 

He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off your body and he understood 

He pulls you in, tucking you underneath his arm and pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek

“Hey.” You glance up at him and respond, “Hi.”

“Did you know I love you?”

Your heart stutters every time you hear him say those simple words

“Yes I do. Did you know I love you back?”

He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear, “I do. Always remember that I love you okay?”

Scoopies feels like a second home now as you walk through the familiar double doors 

You wave at Jimin and he gives you a smile and a nod as he finishes cleaning the display

You plop down on your stool

Two scoops of strawberry ice cream slide in front of you

Yoongi smiles at you, “It cost two kisses, three of your feeling generous and want to tip.”

And you were definitely feeling generous 

Yoongi has to walk to the bathroom and wipe off the lipstick marks that covered his cheeks and neck

Oops ヽ(ヅ)ノ

[moldy-mold]

Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted.  At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan.  My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.” 
Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!
 https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @haletostilinski!

A/N: a little note, here, that a friend gave me ideas that helped this along, lol;; a soft warning for a vague Hale fire mention;; I hope it’s a good gift, and I hope you have a very merry christmas!!!

Read on AO3

*****

Loneliness, Food, & Mistletoe

It starts with a dorm.

Or, more accurately, it starts with a waterfall.

Specifically, it starts with Stiles waking up to a flooded dorm, water rushing from the ceiling after having had the craziest dream about being in a snow-strewn field with his mom and a group of people he didn’t know, having a feast and drinking flower wine, as they all chatted with him, all beatific expressions and an ambiance of aching joy. His mother had hugged him, before he’d woken, whispered something he can’t remember into his ear, and then his eyes had fluttered open to a personal, theatrical, indoor waterfall.

It takes him about three minutes, blinking and smacking his lips and generally being only barely awake, before he actually realizes what’s going on to the tune of shrieking curses and scrambling to save everything he doesn’t want to lose to spectacular water damage.

His roommate, the ass, has been at his girlfriend’s place since the day before yesterday, and has enough money that his only response to the informative, sarcastic, slightly melodramatic text Stiles shoots off to him is the equivalent of a shrug and an, I’m good here, so you’re on your own with that shit-tastic fiasco. Have fun.

The dormkeeper, TA person is… daunting? Stiles has never talked to him, anyway—no matter how hot like burning the guy is, storms live in his tsunami eyes, ‘I’m going to kill you’ is written in the line of his impressive eyebrows, and intimidating might actually, in this case, be an understatement. But, nevertheless, he doesn’t really have the option of avoidance now, since it’s four in the morning, water’s still actively flowing, and Derek’s the guy.

(If there was any other guy, but, nope, Derek’s the only one.)

So, gingerly, clothes and computer and cheap-ass griddle piled haphazardly in his arms, he—tries and fails to knock at least four times, almost dropping everything in the process, cursing some more, until the door’s opening all on it’s own, a sleep-mussed, startlingly soft Derek Hale standing there, glaring at him, and narrowing his eyes hatefully at Stiles’ armful of things.

“Oh. I, uh. Have a feeling this is already off to a bad start? Um, so, okay. My room? 320? I’m Stiles, by the way, I’d shake your hand, but… uh-hm.”

One of Derek’s eyebrows steadily rises as Stiles babbles, and now he’s leaning on the door-frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking distinctly unimpressed.

Stiles gets the feeling, if he doesn’t get to the point soon, Derek’s going to slam the door in his face. In hindsight, introducing himself wasn’t necessary.

“My dorm’s flooding, is the thing.”

Derek’s eyes widen, something like a growl filling his chest as he whips around to grab something from his room. “Stay here,” he orders, his voice a little like smoked sugar-grain, higher than Stiles would’ve expected. The man prowls away intently without another word and Stiles sighs heavily, sets his stuff beside Derek’s door and settles down next to it to wait.

Derek comes back more than a little soaked around two and a half hours of bejeweled, tetris, and candy crush later. He looks harried and two shades shy of homicidal.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” he bites, and Stiles looks up from his phone to gape at him.

“I—no? Is there no way to fix it? Is it still flooding?”

“Yes,” monosyllabic monotone, but there’s something incredibly dry in his eyes and it takes Stiles a second to realize the man wouldn’t have just left it like that, then another to realize that, even if the flooding itself has been stopped, it probably hasn’t been fixed, and he really doesn’t have anywhere he could possibly go.

He tells Derek as much and the man glares at him for an endless moment, it feels little better than being an ant pinned under a microscope and infinitely more awkward. A huff, and then firm, thick-corded muscles are wrapped around his pile of stuff and lugging it into Derek’s room.

“Wai—woah, hey, hey, dude, what are you—?” Stiles calls, exasperation and incredulity warring with annoyance as he scrambles to follow after. Derek drops Stiles’ stuff on the right side of his perfectly pristine room- the side with the bean-bag and the nineties bulk-tv and the pale-blue carpet and the closet door, without the bed and the distrubingly neat study desk and the bookshelf- before regarding him with a scowl.

“Don’t make a mess,” the man says, “it’s temporary.” Then he grabs a change of clothes from the closet and leaves Stiles stranded with the implication that Stiles will probably be staying here until whatever piping problem turning his dorm into a nature documentary gets fixed.

Here with the annoyingly uncommunicative TA dormparent who is simultaneously terrifying and vaguely infuriating.

He blinks at his stuff, breathes. He’s pretty sure he’s been through worse… maybe.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

He gets desensitized fairly quickly, gone from mildly scared of the guy to downright vexed by him.

He’s obsessively clean, which is something Stiles struggles with, but is more capable of understanding—after all, up until now, this has solely been Derek’s space. Still, the half snarky, half antagonistic, half animal sounds of irritation don’t actually tell him anything- except that Derek’s upset, and there could be any number of reasons why, because, man, this dude is tightly wound as fuck- until his side of the room is being invaded and forcefully cleaned before Stiles can protest, let alone do anything about it. He has some definite anger management issues, and isn’t spectacularly good at dealing with Stiles’ particular brand of hyperfocus versus hyperactivity, and cheap, unhealthy college student habits. Stiles has some problems with how quiet he is, how he’s never tactile unless he’s aggro, and how he’s always huffy, grumpy, sour.

Needless to say, they grate on each other, and it might be a month yet before Stiles’ room gets fixed, which is just, you know, great.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Snip.

Derek tries valiantly to focus on his book.

Tnk, szznip.

A vein in his forehead is throbbing, he can feel it.

Stiles mutters unintelligible gibberish around the highlighter he’s holding between his teeth.

Clip, snip, tnk, snap.

“What. The hell. Are. You. Doing.”

Stiles spins around quickly, the chair making two dizzying rotations before he stops it, facing Derek, and yanks the marker out of his mouth. There’s a neon yellow mark right next to his lips, cuddling up to his freckles, pen and glitter coating his bone-nimble fingers. Derek doesn’t want to be endeared, really, he should be annoyed.

“Writing an essay on how to use inflections correctly, how to make them flow, y'know? So that questions sound like questions, sentences sound like entiresentences. It might be surprising how many people struggle wi—”

“Stiles,” he snaps, annoyance abruptly far brighter than fondness.

“Oh my god, can’t you just… chill, a little? I’m doing classwork—although the depths of the internet may’ve distracted me, on that one, I’ll admit—and I’m making decorations for Lydia’s christmas party, because she’s terrifying, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t she’ll gut me. Or steal my roommate—.” Stiles cuts himself off, a tiny recoiling flinch in his eyes that Derek doesn’t understand at all, but it’s there and gone so fast, it might not have been there at all. “Which would actually border on a good thing, considering, well, Jackson.

"Wait… have you ever met Jackson?”

A headache. Derek’s pretty sure he’s getting a headache.

His question answered, he contemplates just ditching for the quiet of the library, only. Well.

(This is the first time in a very long time he has shared his space with anyone, and his feelings about it are complicated, to say the least, but part of him whimpers at the idea that, if he were to leave right now, when he came back, Stiles might be gone. Another part says that he’ll come back to a mess that would be too much work to clean and babysitting is just altogether a better idea.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries about Stiles’ oddly mournful pause.)

In the end, he sighs heavily, and returns to his book.

“Don’t make a mess.”

Stiles starts muttering about being the cleanest person in the world, and Jackson and he would probably get along, and just wait, he dyed Jax’s hair blue in the fourth grade, he can fucking do it again if he wants to, fucking Sourwolf.

Sourwolf? Derek wonders; then, I better keep an eye on my shampoo.

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Derek watches Stiles do the same thing he’s been doing every day for a month and a half.

The egg sizzles on the griddle, gets tossed on top of a bowl of instant ramen, which is downed along with two red bulls, before Stiles’ full attention is returned to his work, which is, as always, at least ten things at once, armed with a highlighter, no less than four books, his computer, two notebooks, a dozen differently colored pens, and maybe a thousand color-coded sticky-notes, half of what he’s writing is either seemingly encrypted or in a different language altogether. In a few hours, Derek knows, he’ll blithely down another redbull.

He barely fucking sleeps, and he’s paler than the moon, and, jesus christ, if he keeps going on like this he’s going to die, his body won’t be able to take it.

The next day, Derek shoves a plate of banana peanutbutter bagels with granola and yogurt on the side in his face along with a cup of caffeinated tea, and Stiles looks up at him with wide, wide eyes before smiling, those eyes crinkling, the honey in them warm and gooey as his cheeks dimple and plush, crushed-pastel lips curl something happy. It’s the brightest thing Derek thinks he’s ever seen, and everything around it gets cotton-soft, tempered with gentled sweet, and his breath catches, heart tripping over the bubble of wonder billowing out in his chest.

Stiles says, “Thank you,” on the edge of an awed breath, and Derek swallows, nods curtly, stalks away.

He tries to remind himself that Stiles can be annoying and loud, talks too much, asks too many questions, doesn’t take care of himself at all, is, quite possibly, one of the messiest people he’s ever known, and that it shouldn’t matter how nice it is to share space with someone again- because sharing space isn’t something he should be allowed, anyway- it shouldn’t matter that, when he does decide to talk, Stiles actually listens, or that he gets Derek’s dry humor, snipes back easily and mostly good-naturedly, or that he smiles like… like that.

It shouldn’t matter. This is temporary and Stiles is an asshole most of the time.

(It does matter, and Stiles isn’t the kind of asshole Derek could ever hate, anyway.)

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Stiles’ room gets fixed. And that’s fine, that’s seriously fine, it’s not like he wanted to sleep on a borrowed air-bed in the corner of someone else’s room much longer, anyway, but…

He’d just started to get used to Derek, just started to be able to maneuver around him and with him with any kind of ease, could now translate the scowls and the serial-killer eyebrows from the emotionally clumsy, socially awkward language he’d finally realized they were into mostly… unexpectedly sweet intentions. More than that, he’d begun to realize just how much of a dorky mom friend Derek secretly is, with him spending any time he wasn’t studying or cleaning- or cleaning up after Stiles- reading some really old, complex book, cooking (for them both, because every time Stiles eats a mildly unhealthy meal or foregoes food for caffeine, Derek’s eyebrows twitch like he literally cannothandle watching Stiles’ unintentionally self-destructive habits without overloading on discomfited concern), and drawing these steampunk looking ink sketches of buildings and construction.

It had taken less coaxing than Stiles had thought it might to get Derek to admit that he wanted to be an architect, and that a lot of those books he was reading were either historical diaries, euro-romantic literature, or spanish or french poetry, with occasional visits from obscure fantasy and science fiction. He has a weathered set of books by Tolkien, and the whole of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, dozens of ragged, rugged, heavily used art journals, along with a complete collection of star trek and star trek: the next generation and old school doctor who cds on his bookshelf. He’s sassy in an almost inspiringly dry way, quick witted, funny, and, just, genuinely good.

Yeah, his social skills leave a lot to be desired, and he can still be annoying as all hell sometimes, but. An almost permanent glare doesn’t stop him from dropping everything and helping anyone who needs anything the moment they ask, doesn’t stop him from kindness and chivalry, for all that it’s masked by his gruff, almost wolfish demeanour.

And yesterday, for the first time, he saw Derek laugh. It was an odd kind of thing, because he’d woken up grumpier than Stiles had ever seen him, and it had felt like the first day all over again, like five thousand steps back, a doom-gloom quiet descended and everything Stiles did seemed to grate, everything anyonedid seemed to, and after all the discoveries he’d made about Derek’s character, it had felt like such a loss.

So he’d taken the lashing out in stride and done whatever he could to cheer Derek up.

The tension broke when, after corralling Derek into a daredevil marathon- because he had a feeling that Derek might… relate, a little- he began rambling about parkour and cinematography and “sinful red leather, oh my god.” He doesn’t even remember what he’d said, exactly, that made it happen, he’d just turned his brain-to-mouth filter off and let the words come, but the next thing he’d known, Derek was curved toward him and in, knuckles to his mouth like if he just pressed down on it enough it wouldn’t come. His eyes had gone so vivid, vast forests, willow trees tangoing, dipped back into the lakes their roots curled so close to, sunshine scattered across a dusk-smoke sky as a smile spread helplessly, as a sound a little like joy bubbled up and overflowed, and the thing that shocked him most was that he’d been rooming with this person for three months, and this was the first time he’d ever seen anything like it.

Mist still lingered in that small, frangible piece of joy.

Something devastating taints most things Derek does, Stiles thinks, and begins to hate all the more that he suddenly needs to leave this temporary haven, because he wants to know why.

He wants to see Derek smile more, wants him to laugh so much this whole room is saturated with it. Wants to be the reason for the sound, the expression, wants more.

Derek turns from his drawing when Stiles clears his throat, square black framed glasses perched on his nose, charcoal smudge on his cheek, and Stiles bites back a burst of something utterly fond.

“I’m gonna head out.”

Derek’s eyebrows twitch a little, his mouth tilting firmly down when he eyes Stiles’ stuff packed, a little less haphazardly than last time. Unhappy, Stiles can read easily, but the rest is inscrutable.

The man nods and Stiles huffs. The less comfortable Derek is, the less communicative he is, and Stiles gets it, but he’s unwilling to leave on this note, so he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicks it to contacts, adds a new one, names it Sourwolf, and hands the thing over. Derek peers down at it, glares at him.

“We’re friends now,” Stiles informs him, “insufferable nicknames are a necessary evil.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise, a little sarcastic quirk to his mouth.

“Yes, friends. Dude, give me your number of your own free will, or I’ll get it on my own using my awesome investigatory powers and I’ll spam you pictures of dirty dishes and piles of laundry and unorganized bookshelves. You know me, you know that I can, and I will.”

Derek scoffs a half disbelieving sound and rolls his shoulders meaningfully.

“You wouldn’t block me,” Stiles smirks, “we’re besties, big guy.”

Derek glares at the slight mess Stiles has left on his desk, gives Stiles a blank look with black at its’ edges, raises an eyebrow.

“Face it. I’m a slob and you love me anyway.”

Stiles moves to tidy up a bit, anyway, and when he returns to Derek, the man’s holding out his phone, Sourwolf’s contact page completely filled in.

“Text if you. Need… food,” Derek orders, voice saturated in a grudging growl, and Stiles knows he’s grinning like a fucking loon- he doesn’t even care- as he leans in, smacks a quick kiss to Derek’s cheek.

“Definitely,” he agrees, delightedly, before spinning toward his stuff, heaving it up, and swanning off.

(He doesn’t turn back or stay long enough to see the deep, candied-cherry flush that fills Derek’s cheeks, coats the tips of his ears. Doesn’t hear him exhale, sharp and heavy.

Doesn’t hear him breathe out a soft, strained, “Fuck.”)

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Stiles sighs when he sees the sock on the door, for a whole, huge, sack of incredulous reasons.

The first being that it’s three a-fucking-m, and Jackson knew he’d be getting back around now. The second has to be how absolutely cliche it is, nevermind the actual state of the sock—maybe Derek’s rubbing off on him, because all he can think of is that fucking germ song Derek texted him a few days ago, and how he’s going to have to disinfect that doorknob if he ever wants to feel safe using it again because eughh.

So he’s stuck, slumped outside in the hall, with absolutely nothing to do.

He barely even hesitates to snake his phone out of is jacket pocket and start texting Derek. Yeah, it’s ass'o'clock in the morning, but Derek turns his phone off when he goes to sleep, because he’s lame, so Stiles is pretty assured in just complaining to a non-existent audience, figuring Der might get a kick out of it later.

He tries not to look too deeply into the fact that Derek’s the first one he wants to complain to, the person he’s been talking to the most lately, refuses to analyze how overjoyed he’s been to discover that, as long as you give him the time to, Derek’s communication issues don’t hinder him as much over text.

Derek’s sometimes so dry it takes Stiles a whole fifteen minutes to realize he wasn’t actually being serious, on tuesdays he only responds in iambic pentameter, and he uses shakespearean insults on occasion because he’s nothing less than a sarcastic little shit; he’s still monosyllabic, every once in awhile, and his punctuation is as terrible as it is in real life, but it’s like the distance, the phone between them, makes Derek feel more confident, makes it easier for him to be… himself.

The week before last, they got into a conversation about past relationships, that led to a discussion about fire and the confession that Derek had only ever had three relationships, one that ended because he’d made a childish mistake his high school lover couldn’t forgive, another that ended in flames, a trial, and a prison sentence for a woman Stiles would… probably kill without a second thought, if he’s being honest, and a third that was too self-destructive for both of them to have ever been healthy or sustainable.

Soon after, Stiles had opened up to him about his mom’s disease and his dad’s drinking and his bills—he hadn’t really had the time to date much, his romantic entanglements tend to be of the more one-night-stand, friends-with-benefits variety, and even when he’s wanted more, no one else has seemed to.

Every day since Stiles moved out, even after he’s annoyed the hell out of Derek to the point of radio silence, the man comes to him with a tupperware full of healthy, incredible food, and a cup of tea, his scowl fermenting on his face, the storm of it worsening when Stiles inevitably giggles (how can he not?) as he takes the gift. There are days, too, when they’ve ribbed each other, chatted extensively about conlangs and architecture and psychoanalyzed star trek characters in between memes and jokes and Stiles’ ever fickle focus, and Derek will come bearing his small feasts with this soft, tender, breathtaking expression, a smile curling in his eyes that never touches his lips, and hot cocoa or coffee with whipped cream and cinnamon and marshmallows and extra chocolate instead of tea.

(“I’m going to get fat if you keep bringing me this-” a bite, then, choking back a moan- “glorious, sacred—oh my holy god.”

A hand, large and warm, calloused and covered in ink-stains, in charcoal and lead, had smoothed tenderly through his hair, gentle enough to make him almost thoughtlessly lean into it, to make him want to shiver.

“It’s better,” he’d said, then left before Stiles could ask what he meant.)

He doesn’t know what to do about how much part of him, lonely and withering, the same part that would view Lydia taking Jackson away as some form of punishment, because then he’d be alone, craves every little interaction, and then some.

Mostly, he ignores it, as he starts to type out how much of an asshole Jackson can be, and couldn’t he have gotten his nookie a little earlier? which all devolves into an anecdote about that time he painstakingly filled Jax’s locker with water for being an asshole and all his stuff got soaked but he kept the freaking fish.

He’s surprised when he gets a text back calling Jackson a goodly rotten apple, and then asking if Stiles realizes what time it is.

〖did i wake you? don’t you turn your phone off when you pass out so it can charge or some shit?〗

〖There could be an emergency.〗Derek texts back, succinctly, 〖And I don’t want you to starve.〗

〖… you keep your phone on at night, now, because i could have an emergency craving?〗

Stiles bites his lip, hard, warmth bursting in his chest, champagne-fizz rushing through his veins. His heartbeat’s skipping along to an odd tune of half embarrassed hope, and he’d known he was probably crushing on this man, but, god, he’s so fucking gone for him it’s ridiculous. For one, completely insane moment, a giddy part of him wants to send a bunch of kissy, heart-eyes, I might be falling head over heels for you emojis.

But, no. No way. Too awkward, silly, and he’s still not… sure. About how he feels.

Derek texts,〖Yes,〗 and it takes longer than it should to remember how to breathe.

〖you’re being sarcastic right now, aren’t you? you’re such a fucking tease, i was totally craving one of your crazy sandwich concoctions〗

〖Stiles.〗

A minute or so passes.

〖You woke me up.〗

〖yes. i gathered. the hazards of being my friend, oh, such a horrible atrocity, how much sleep have you lost, woeful der-ber? how much? shall i just call in the queen to chop off my head right this very minute?〗

〖Stop being an asshole or I’m going back to sleep.〗

〖you wouldn’t leave me in the lurch like that, would you?〗 He stops being an ass, anyway, though, just in case, only feels a fraction of guilt as he steers the conversation toward Lydia’s fast-approaching christmas party, one which they’re both attending, because Lydia’s a force of nature, and she somehow met, cajoled, and garnered a befuddled promise out of Derek at some point after the whole dorm-waterfall incident. Derek’s still mildly lucky, at least he didn’t get roped into decorating duty.

For all Stiles knows, if Lydia had known Derek’s architectural ability, she would’ve demanded he construct her an entire building for the affair.

Time ticks by, and Stiles is enjoying himself enough that he doesn’t notice until his phone starts complaining at him how low his charge is. The only problem? his charger is in the room.

He has no fucking clue how long Jackson’s going to be keeping their room… occupied, and he’s far too invested in this silly little conversation he’s having, anyway. (How could he not be? He can practically see Derek smiling through the phone.) So, vaguely hopeful, he tries knocking on a few other doors, begging after anyone who might be willing to lend him their charger. The only one who isn’t so pissed off about him waking them up or interrupting their study time as to simply slam the door in his face, doesn’t have a compatible charger, and…

You know what? fuck it. He needs to talk to Derek, this idiot who cares enough about Stiles to wake up at three in the morning and endure Stiles’ spazztic assholery, who, if Stiles actually asked him for food seriously right now, would probably make him something and come without a second’s hesitation, whatever black look he may’ve worn the entire time, who said 'emergency’ like part of him expected having a friend meant the maw of disaster was ten seconds away from chomping at the bit, the dork who… yeah, he must be totally fucking in love with.

He sincerely doubts he would have opened his door, army crawled through a room hosting a veritable pornographic lovemaking scene on the bed, snatched his charger out of the outlet, and rolled the fuck out of there for anyone else. Not even candy crush and boredom are that important.

But Derek is.

A silly conversation about crows being one of the most mischievous animals on the planet and seagulls being generally shitty is.

Fuck.

What the hell is he going to do now?

–❄❆❅❆❄–

Christmas eve brings the ice queen Lydia and her spectacular winter gala that… pretty much the whole college has been invited to and is attending.

But Stiles doesn’t let himself get distracted by the two guys covered in glitter, dancing and making out on a table to the cheers of a bunch of drunken peers, or the various decorations put up, scattered around, that he had a hand in, or the numerous people trying to get is attention or get in his way. He’s on a fuckingmission.

He’s on a hyper-focused and overthinking for two weeks about how to approach the Big Emotional Elephant In The Room, before giving it up as a lost cause and going for the first stupid thing he could think of, mission.

Which is why, when his eyes catch Derek’s across the room, he rushes for him, which is just as well, since the man seems greatly relieved to have an excuse to run away from the group of people cornering him, trying to elicit conversation.Derek still makes a noise of surprise, though, when Stiles’ saving him comes in the form of grabbing Derek’s arm and impatiently dragging him away, calling a brusque, “I need him more!” over his shoulder at the gawking partiers.

“I—Stiles?” Derek murmurs, mildly wary, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Stiles’ ear.

Valiantly, he doesn’t let himself shiver, instead, he jerks to a halt, hand still wrapped tightly, terrified and hopeful at once, around Derek’s wrist. His breath is short, heart beating too fast, and he’s scared.

What if this doesn’t work? What if it’s… not meant to be? What if he loses Derek to these useless, silly feelings?

“Stiles?” Derek urges, softer, more worried, and he pulls his wrist away, replaces it with his hand, wide and warm and so, so gentle.

Stiles swallows, forces himself to take a breath, to turn enough to look Derek in the eye as he squeezes his hand, indescribably grateful for the contact. Vast seas reflecting vaster galaxies stare back at him, solicitous, fond, questioning, and there’s this little confused smile twitching at his lips.

A smile Stiles thinks was knitted and weaved together just for him by a man who doesn’t like to smile at all, has too many reasons not to, besides.

God, it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles breathes, and those impossible eyes widen, too-lovely lips part. “And, goddamnit, I really want you to come to this doorway with me where there’s mistletoe so I have an excuse to kiss you?” The words trip over his tongue, come out all in a rush, flutter and skip like his heart, a terrified, hopeful sort of babble, his eyes scrunched up because he has no idea what Derek’s reaction will be, and he doesn’t dare look.

The fingers laced with his curl in further, a staying kind of thing, as Derek responds, a little husky, wanting, soaked in every type of sugar imaginable, “Or you could just kiss me here?”

Stiles’ eyes snap open, and Derek’s grinning, all impish rogue, glittering amusement. “No,” Stiles blurts, logic pretty much knocked clear out of him, “no, I have this all planned out; the mistletoe’s important.”

Derek leans in, eyes hooded, heated, brazen, his free hand sliding up Stiles’ cheek, tender but no less shocking for it, their lips nearly ghosting when Derek whispers, all alluring, seductive-smoke, “How important?”

Stiles feels a bubble of hysteria climb up his throat as he tugs a sprig of mistletoe out of his pocket to hold above their heads. “Important enough that I have contingencies,” he tells him, and Derek blinks a little, laughs almost suddenly, warmer than any fireplace, sweeter than any confection, and the best gift Stiles could’ve ever fucking asked for.

This may, in fact, be one of the best christmases he’s ever had.

It only gets better when they bridge the gap, a caress that turns filthy on the edge of a gasp as Derek pulls Stiles flush to him, both of them greedy for the taste of each other, biting and humming and mewling softly. Stiles’ arms end up around Derek’s neck and Derek’s clingingly around his back, their kiss ending breathlessly, both of them melting further into their embrace, drinking each other in, nuzzling, and just. Holding on.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Derek presses the words into Stiles’ pulse-point, barely heard over the chaos of festivities and overly loud, remixed christmas music, “I love you, too.”

Stiles chokes on a laugh, and holds all the tighter.

“I think I lost that mistletoe.”

“Mmm. Merry christmas, baby.”

Stiles can’t suppress the shiver this time.

“Merry christmas, Der.”