#and some of these people like nurses are in such stressful jobs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuwuta · 1 month

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JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?”

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you.

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him.

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.”

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever.

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.”

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension.

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure.

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work.

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.”

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.”

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.”

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?”

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses.

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft.

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.”

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.”

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.”

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint.

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch.

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you.

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek.

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.”

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.”

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.”

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.”

“And park it where?”

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here.

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.”

“Yours will be towed by then.”

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.”

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.”

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?”

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea.

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat.

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—”

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?”

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.”

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!”

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people.

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights.

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.”

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice.

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room.

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be.

947 notes · View notes

rosedom · 2 months

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AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—”

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”

“Lyn—”

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on.

“‘m already prepped.” Oh.

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.

You’re so, so glad to love him.

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.

“Patience, pup.”

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters.

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—”

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.

Really, clean-up can wait.

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord .#top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

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kquil · 1 year

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JAMES POTTER | 02:23 ⏤THE PRETTY NURSE

SUM. : you’re the pretty nurse that james wants to woo but he just got out of surgery

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; nurse reader ; puppy love ; lovestruck james ; mutual attraction ; sirius is being a little tease ; heart monitor gives him away

LENGTH : 0.7k

“Prongs, you-” Sirius cuts himself off, unable to control himself and laughing behind his hand as Remus grinned beside him. Their friend had just gotten out of surgery to fix up his leg after an accident and was on his way to recovery in a hospital bed, hooked up to a monitor and with an IV keeping him hydrated in his arm. He looked pitiful already but his lovestruck expression made him look all the more pathetic.

“Shut up Pads,” James snapped softly, his eyes never leaving your figure as you milled about the room tending to other recovering patients that he tried not to get too jealous over. He knows you’re a nurse and it’s your job to take care of them but James was utterly besotted by you.

James can tell that your smile is genuine and that you sincerely enjoy taking care of people. It was also really attractive how intelligent you were and how beautiful you were regardless of your labour intensive work. You handled the equipment with expert hands, tended to patient needs with compassion and care, and administered medication with careful accuracy.

“Look at her…” James whispered under his breath, his gaze never leaving you, “she’s so pretty…”

“Yup, you’ve said that already,” Remus hummed in amusement, “seven times now to be exact,”

“I think he’s losing it, Moony,” Sirius teased and poked James in the shoulder but was completely ignored.

Like a silent call, James’ longing stare caught your attention and you were quickly making your way over to stand beside his bed.

“Is everything okay? Can I get you anything?” you ask, trying to suppress a familiar, flustered heat from dusting your cheeks. Your new patient, James Potter, was very handsome and some of the other nurses who saw him being wheeled into your room of the recovery ward did nothing to disguise their jealousy. Being a nurse was hard work so having a handsome hunk of a man like James around did good to relieve some of your frustrations. All it took was a single glance his way and you felt recharged.

Whilst tending to your other patients, however, instead of stealing glances at him you felt his stare lingering on you persistently. It was bad enough that such an attractive man was staring you down, it didn’t help that he also had such a longing, puppy-like look in his eyes when he did so.

When James didn’t answer and only continued to stare at you, you turned to his friends with a questioning look, “he’s good, sorry in advance for his odd behaviour,” the tall brunette comments with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” Sirius piped up, drawing your attention, “he’s just feeling a little hot under the collar, aren’t ya’ Jamesie?”

Feeling a spike of worry, you hurriedly made your way around his bed to have a closer look at him, leaning over his bed and stopping close to his face, “oh dear, are you sure you’re alright?” you stress, worried eyes scanning him for any distressing signs.

beep!beep!beep!beep!beep!

Alarmed, you snap your gaze towards the Holter monitor and gaped at James’s rapidly rising heartbeat before returning your attention back to the man in question. His cheeks were a deep red, his eyes still fixed on you, wide and glittering under the hospital lights as his pink lips were slightly agape from awe at your close proximity.

“Don’t be alarmed, love,” Sirius reassures, already giggling under his breath, “I think he’s just caught a terrible case of ‘Puppy Love-itis’,” Sirius couldn’t contain the force of his laughter any longer and threw his head back to laugh boisterously.

Embarrassed but smiling timidly, you step back and nod before turning away to make more rounds, “I’ll be back with a suitable prescription for you soon, James,”

James couldn’t believe the amount of humiliation he felt in that moment, his whole world was crumbling around him; throughout your entire interaction all he did was make a fool of himself. How could he possibly ask for your number now?

All of his worries were all for naught, however, as you soon returned with a written prescription, “I’m sure that over time, your dosage will need to be increased but you can be your own judge there,” was your only comment.

When James unfolded the small piece of paper in his hands, he couldn’t believe his eyes; you had just given him your number…

beep!beep!beep!beep!beep!

A/N : inspired by a tiktok...there's so much good material on there, don't judge me!

NAVI.

#𐂂 : TIMESTAMP #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x yn #hp marauders #hp fanfic #james potter fanfiction #marauders fic #the marauders

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hellyeahsickaf · 3 months

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I get disability memes on my Pinterest feed but after getting one for ER Drs/nurses that I found concerning, I kept seeing more and more like it and I went down a rabbit hole. I know it's one of the most stressful jobs someone can have and I really appreciate the medical staff that have been kind to me. These things are definitely made by the types of people who haven't been.

I think it's important because memes are kind of a way to let off steam but they mean what they're saying. They're not just jokes but they're framed in a way that they can say it more comfortably. Sometimes they're just straight up admitting to crimes and malpractice. It's like when someone says something that crosses a line in a joking tone so that if you feel attacked they insist it's just a joke and you're taking it too seriously. But my life is constantly in the hands of these people and I've been mistreated time and time again by medical personnel

I'm gonna go through them because honestly I hate them and there are a lot of repeating themes

These are extremely common. The focus of the meme being that a whiny patient is asking for pain medication that they clearly don't need. Something commonly mentioned in these is disbelief that the patient has an allergy because it's common for someone trying to get drugs to claim they have an allergy.

Also the Confucius one is both ableist and racist so double whammy I guess!

I've dealt with people I know are silently assuming this of me. I'm allergic to NSAIDs- deathly allergic and at risk for asphyxiation or anaphylactic shock. Medical staff sometimes have this attitude of "we know when you're faking your pain" (no really I had one say this shit on my post about this) and that has traumatized me immeasurably because they'd rather me wait for 4+ hours in some of the worst pain of my life than risk the possibility of me being an awful scheming mustache twirling addict.

This category is just as common. "I don't like you so I'm going to drug you". That's more fucked up than they seem to think it is.

Then there's the category of "you're a whiny little bitch and I don't believe a word out of your mouth". Which contributes heavily to medical malpractice and abuse

Again these are doctors and nurses making these, people responsible for treating patients with care and dignity and respect. Especially if they want any in return

Aaaaand this one is just a crime. One that's happened to me actually- reporting examinations that never happened to get rid of me because I was such a nuisance (crying, hardly coherent, drenched in sweat, 9/10 pain on arrival)

And then there are the ones like "don't mess with me because i handle your treatment/meds 💕". Things like "the way you treat me is the deciding factor for how fast I'm going to get your painkillers 😊". Which to me is just... evil?

I've never in my life mistreated medical staff but people in a lot of pain get mean sometimes. It's a survival instinct actually- for aggression to accompany pain or panic. Not that it's ever okay but it isn't personal

These are just a few examples really, there are so fucking many of these with this awful, cruel, cynical tone. There are some funny ones that aren't mean or degrading towards patients but so many of them are and in nearly every one I see a mean spirited healthcare worker that I've encountered at some point who damaged me in ways I will never psychologically recover from

#chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #actually disabled #cfs #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #spoonie #fibromyalgia #me/cfs #cfs/me #cripplepunk #cpunk #long covid #medical ableism #ableism

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stardewremixed · 4 months

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Stardew Valley Employment Headcanons

I've been thinking a lot about how many folks in the Valley don't work. In some ways, it feels realistic. A small town that is clearly dying until the Farmer comes along struggles with unemployment rates. It could be related to high taxes (*side-eyes* I'm looking at you, Lewis) and competitive megacorporations (like Joja) undermining the local economy. However, I'd like to do a little headcanon for the residents and their job situation.

Under spoilers, because TL;DR.

Abigail - after graduating with a degree in art history, Abigail starts working out in her mother's fitness group. She starts swimming at the spa. And she starts a workout regiment with Alex. Of course, this leads her to finally join the Adventure Guild full-time, protecting the Valley and exploring the depths of the mines. She still jams from time to time with Sam and Seb. I also like to think she leads a local Scouts troop.

Alex - this man deserves to have an amazing job as a pro gridball player. However, while he waits, he could coach a local kids team at the Community Center. I can also see him work part-time stocking shelves at Pierre's General Store. Maybe he lifeguards at the Ginger Island Beach during the busy season or drives deliveries out to Sandy in the desert for Pierre. Or he could work with Robin. Mmm... this man, chopping wood... fantasies. He still sells ice cream in the summertime maybe on the weekends or at festival days (because come on, Pierre needs a little competition and I love the idea of pineapple ice cream at the luau and stardrop sorbet at the moonlit jelly fest). I also see him doing odd jobs around the valley until he gets more stable work at Pierre's or Robin's. Need someone to fix your leaky roof? Alex is your man! (Because Evelyn mentions George can't do it anymore).

Elliott - I still like the idea of Elliott's secret wealth and he escaped his family to become a writer. However, maybe he regularly submits poems and sonnets via various contests online under a pseudonym, and does a few freelance articles (maybe on small towns, fishing, romance, etc.). This man deserves to publish a masterpiece and make it on a bestseller list, then gets an agent, and of course, publishes a series. He still does readings in the Valley at the library and the Saloon because he always wants to remember his humble roots and the people who cheered him on when he was a nobody in the business.

Emily - She absolutely needs to start a side-business as the town tailor. It's kind-of already in the lore, but I could see her starting up an online business (maybe with the help of Seb) on an Etsy-esque site. Also, I can see her helping out on the farm for a little something extra when she's not working at the Saloon. Maybe tending to the flowers, watering plants when the Farmer is in the Mines or off on the island or in the desert for the day. She mentions she would like to do this, but Gus apparently frowns on a side job. Hmm... well, I can see this girl eventually leaving her job at the Saloon to pursue her sewing passion full-time. She totally hosts a yoga class in the winter at the Community Center.

Harvey - He is already a well-respected town doctor, but the man is so stressed that he is hardly ever in the Clinic (at least not without mods). I propose Harvey hires some extra help, an associate, maybe another nurse, and a receptionist to assist, especially if patients from surrounding towns (like he mentions) start visiting (i.e. expansions). And he teaches first aid classes at the Community Center.

Haley - Like Leah, she needs an art exhibit to showcase her photography. Unlike the other villagers, I don't see her staying in the Valley, eventually pursuing the work of a freelance photographer and traveling the world (like her absentee parents). She does make an annual trip back for the Flower Dance, her favorite festival. I have pursued Haley the least in game so I'm struggling to come up with more ideas here.

Leah - Speaking of Leah, she transforms the Valley into a premier art destination. She can teach art classes at the renovated Community Center. She teams up with Seb and Sam (and drags Elliott along for the ride, and the writing) to produce an avant-garde film about the art all around us in small towns. I also think she grows her own herbs and sells them at Pierre's, festivals, and the Farmer's Markets (as she gives me green witch vibes). Maybe she partners with Caroline (or the Wizard) to create some herbal potions and creams. And of course, she's still at it with woodworking, though these days she works on commission for those types of projects.

Sam - This man deserves to be a rock star. And I think he'd make a great solo artist. However, if his guitarist dreams don't pan out, he has options. In the vanilla game, he starts working with Gunther at the museum after JojaMart closes. It's a strange choice, but... I figure, maybe he minored in anthropology in college. He would absolutely give amazing tours of the museum, full of exuberant commentary, perfect for kids field trip days too. And I think he plays gigs in Zuzu City and at the Saloon regularly, and maybe even out at Sophia's winery (Stardew Valley Expanded).

Maru - Nursing just doesn't really seem to fit this woman of multiple interests. She finally pursues her passion of robotics and goes to work in a proper lab in a nearby City (doesn't have to be Zuzu - my headcanon is Pine-Mesa City or Grampleton from Stardew Valley Expanded). I think she makes regular trips to the Planetarium too. I could see her visiting the Valley on long weekends, and maybe taking the local kids club on a night-time stargazing event in the summer.

Sebastian - Please give this man a proper window in his basement, Robin! Okay, if he doesn't marry the Farmer, Seb moves out anyway and goes to live in the City for a while, to find investors for his indie game studio. In the meantime, he continues to do freelance programming work. And then, one day, he makes a breakthrough game that revolutionizes the industry. After making A LOT of money, he invests in a SAVE-THE-FROGS campaign, hires multiple developers and other staff, and starts working on his next big game. But he still makes time to jam with Sam and Abi from time to time, and of course, take long rides on his motorcycle.

Penny - This poor woman needs some love. Penny pursues her higher education and officially receives her teaching license. She is hired by the local school district so she can do more than just tutor. She can finally afford her own little apartment. She starts a kids club in the Community Center, and creates a summer reading program at the Stardew Library. And I like to think she takes a monthly trip to Zuzu City to shop in a big bookstore for fresh reading material when she has some down time.

Shane - Oh this guy is definitely a mess. If you don't "romance" him in game, he doesn't really turn his life around, and even if he does, it doesn't really point to recovery as it should, imo (without the help of mods). This man hates his job, and yet he feels stuck. I propose the following. After he recovers in therapy, completes rehab, and genuinely quits drinking (forever), and of course, loses his job at Joja (suck it, Morris!), Shane starts working at Marnie's shop and contracts out as a farmhand all around the Valley. Then he can be a proper godfather to Jas, and provide some actual service at the Ranch (when Marnie's off doing who knows what with you know who...)

I have thoughts for the other Villagers in the Valley too, but I'll save those for a different post.

#stardew valley #sdv headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #stardewremixed #sdv abigail #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv leah #sdv maru #sdv penny #sdv townies

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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is there any chance of getting vampire daddies 🤧💔

idk if this is what you meant...but I've been really wanting to do a mom reader and a lil bb <3

Vampire (Levi) x Single mom reader

Word Count: 2.5k

W: some violence and minor character death, drugging, kidnapping, babynapping, cute baby, sfw vampire fluff, small character injury

“What is she doing here?!” your client Levi Prishdarov growled, baring his vampire fangs at the bundle on your back. He was a massive vampire, looming over the two of you at something like 7 feet tall. His jet black hair hung around his shoulders in loose waves, brushing the red silk house jacket that matched his eyes. It hung open, revealing his alabaster chest, looking like a carved Greek statue.

Behind you, your six month old daughter, Meryl babbled baby speak and yanked on your hair, pointing at him with one small finger.

“Daaaa!”

You gave Levi an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Mr. Prishdarov,” you said quickly, pulling your arms out of the fish tank you were working on and wiping them on a rag, “her son-of-a-bitch father ran off, so Meryl’s gonna have to come with me on my runs for a while, I hope you don’t mind. I promise she won’t disrupt my work.”

You hadn’t meant to be so candid with the Lord of the largest vampire clan in the area, but you’d been under a lot of stress recently. You’d just gotten out of a relationship with your asshole ex fiance after he decided six months after Meryl was born that monogamy and fatherhood were not for him.

He left you high and dry with a business to run on your own and a baby. He’d taken off with everything in your bank account, so you didn’t even have any of your savings for daycare. Fortunately Meryl was at least big enough to ride on your back while you went around town servicing fish tanks.

When people asked you about her you’d given up on pulling your punches and trying to talk delicately about the situation. You had no choice but to bring her with you, so you needed all the sympathy and understanding you could get. Occasionally she cried or you had to change her diaper, which wasn't a good look.

He wrinkled his nose at your daughter and took a step forward, examining her. He poked her cheek with a large, cold finger and her eyes got big. She grabbed the digit with her tiny chubby hand and stuck it in her mouth to chew. His cold skin probably felt nice on her poor little gums, sore from teething.

“You don’t have a wet nurse?” he asked.

You chuckled.

“I don’t think they’ve had those around for a hundred years, sir,” you laughed.

“So you are just carrying her around with you? Exposing her to germs and strangers?!” he gasped.

You shrugged, handing her a bit of clean tubing to play with in hopes she would release Levi’s finger.

“I think she’ll be fine,” you assured mostly yourself, but it did concern you that you had to go to all these different places with her. This wasn’t the vision of motherhood you imagined, toting her around like luggage to your jobs, but it was nice spending time with her and she was a happy baby, smiling at everyone and collecting pats.

The hardest part so far had been keeping her out of your clients hands while you worked and in her carrier. They had a tendency to pick her up and tote her off throughout the house. There were odd selfies of her all over instagram with her fans. You worried about her being exposed to so many people, but you were dancing on a delicate line.

Levi glared at the two of you, so you quickly finished up your work to make yourself scarce. Not everybody liked babies and you weren’t surprised a vampire lord would be a little miffed by one.

–

“Here comes the choo-choo!” you giggled, aiming the little spoon of baby food at Meryl’s mouth. It had been a long day running all around town to refill tanks with salt water, feed and restock fish, and do all the other things a fish tank service person did all with a little cinnamon roll wriggling on your back.

Fortunately, all the activity had made her sleepy and she was barely keeping her eyes open as you tried to coax her into eating her mashed peaches as you held her, sitting on the bumper of your van.

You had one more stop for the day, at the house you were parked in front of, and then you could take her home, make dinner, and the both of you could crash until she woke up hungry again.

You stretched, before strapping a sleepy Meryl back to you and knocking on the door.

“Hello Mr. Gujek,” you said to the orc standing there. He frowned down at you.

“Is that a baby?” he asked.

“She’s my daughter,” you clarified, “her name is Meryl, but she won’t get in my way, she’s passed out.”

He didn’t look happy, but you ignored it. It was the end of the day and you wanted to get this last job over with so you could get home.

“Can’t you leave it in the van?” he asked.

You glared at him, setting your things up by his thousand gallon arowana tank.

“I am not leaving her in the van,” you snapped just as harshly as you meant to, “she’s fast asleep. She won’t cause any trouble.”

The orc seemed extremely put out, but again, you brushed it off. It was the end of the day, you didn’t really have the patience to get into a long discussion about anything. All Mr. Gujek needed was a filter change and to administer some medicine for fin rot. You’d be out of there in fifteen minutes.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you with the fish, then reappeared a minute later holding a cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting you to bring your baby. I was just surprised…” he trailed off more gently, “you must be tired. Have some coffee.”

You glanced at him from beside the tank and accepted the cup without thinking, taking a sip. Coffee was exactly what you needed after such a long day.

“Thanks Mr. Gujek, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you chuckled, throwing back a bit more.

He gave you a tight smile. You went back to replacing the filter, balancing the cup on the tank stand only distance suddenly seemed wonky. As you moved your hands they seemed further and further away and less and less responsive to your brain’s orders.

“Huh?” you murmured and then the world got swimmy.

You immediately thought of Meryl, pulling her safely to your front in the wrap you carried her in, as you started to sink the floor, the world getting foggy. Your last thoughts were of protecting her head with your hands as you hit the ground and things went dark.

—

“I didn’t know she was going to have a baby with her,” Mr. Gujek’s voice snarled at someone.

Your eyes felt itchy and dry and it took you some time to get them open.

“I’m not killing a baby,” he said, “that’s why I called you. Can’t you do something with it? Sell it or raise it as livestock or something? I just want the woman. Just don’t…you know…murder it…that’s bad karma...no, it’s not the same as kidnapping! Whatever, hurry up and get over here!”

You shook your head, trying to chase the fogginess away but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Meryl…?” you groaned, trying to look around, your panic slowly growing as you realized you couldn’t move your arms and legs and Meryl wasn’t in them.

You were in a bedroom, chained to a modern, nice bed with a cushioned headboard and expensive sheets.

“Meryl?!” you cried, looking around. You didn’t see her anywhere! You went into full on panic mode, screaming and fighting your restraints until your bones started popping. You were considering whether or not you could break your thumbs to get out of the manacles when Mr. Gujek appeared in the doorway holding your baby in one arm.

She was such a tiny little thing compared to the massive orc, it set off every protective bone in your body.

“Give her to me!” you demanded, “give me my daughter!”

He gave you a chilly smile.

“You should probably stop thinking of it as yours,” he smirked, looking down at her, “when its new master arrives it’ll belong to him.”

She glared up at him, tears building in her wet little eyes and it broke your heart. His disgusting hands on her were worse than her father leaving. She waved her little fists as if she could fight him off.

“This is sick you bastard!” you screeched, tears clouding your vision, “I’ll do anything! Anything you want, please just don’t take her away!”

He crossed the room and sank into the bed next to you.

“You shouldn’t have had a baby,” he pouted, and Meryl started to sniffle in his arms, “Only I get to breed you…but it is good to know you are fertile. Now there’s no question of that. Don’t be sad. I’ll give you plenty of little ones to love, strong orc babies, better than this one.”

You heard the doorbell ring and the orc eagerly hopped up as if a pizza had arrived. You heard the front door open and a muffled question.

“May I come in?”

“Come on,” the orc said, “I want to get this over with so I can get to playing with my new toy.”

You heard Meryl crying and the sound of something wet tearing. Was it fabric? Flesh? Your heart pounded and tears rolled down your cheeks. Meryl! Meryl had to be okay!

You struggled with the restraints, trying to keep at the front of your mind that if she was still crying she was alive. You could get to her, you just had to try harder. Pain radiated up your arms as you tried to force your hands through the metal cuffs and blood leaked down your wrists as they scraped your skin.

There was a wet gurgle and a thunk, then silence and you froze, tears plummeting down your cheeks.

“Meryl…?” you whispered as your heart went ice cold.

Heavy bootsteps stomped through the hallway, getting closer and closer until a tall dark figure appeared in the doorway.

“Meryl!” you shrieked, seeing her before even seeing the male holding her.

She was propped in the crook of Levi’s large arm, chewing on his finger happily. His other hand was dripping blood. The collar of his white shirt with soaked with it and the sleeve of his suit jacket was dark.

He frowned at you and crossed the room quickly, holding your little nugget under his arm like a china football as he yanked the chains holding you to the bed, snapping them like threads. You held your loose arms out for your baby and he passed her to you. You didn’t even notice him looking you over for injuries and growling at the lacerations on your wrists.

“Oh thank goodness!” you sobbed, holding her to your chest and covering her with kisses.

Finally it occurred to you that it was odd Levi was there and you looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

He frowned down at you, looking not in the least bit amused.

“The orc wanted to sell me Meryl,” he said, scooping you both up in his arms and carrying you out of the bedroom. You hid Meryl’s face and tried to swallow down the bile that rose as you passed the mess the vampire had made of the orc and left in the hall. His limbs were all over the place and blood was splattered on the walls.

When you got outside he passed your work van and headed directly to his limousine. He washed the bloody hand with some supplies he pulled from a small compartment in the vehicle and started dabbing your wrists with whatever cleanser he kept.

“But…I need to take my van home…” you started to say, but trailed off as his red eyes focused on you.

“I’ll have someone come collect it, the rest of your things are already being taken to my house,” he said.

“Y-you’re house?” you asked.

He looked down at you evenly.

“My daughter and wife are not going to be running around town going in and out of stranger’s homes,” he said with distaste, “as you can see it’s dangerous. You’ll stay at home where it’s safe.”

“Wait…what?! You’re what?!” you asked, “We have a home!”

He nodded.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“I’m not your wife, though,” you said.

He cocked his head.

“According to the state of (Y/S) you are, Mrs. Prishdarov,” he said, more cheerful than you’d ever seen him in all the years you’d cared for his stingrays.

You shivered and narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to eat us, are you?” you asked, suspiciously and he laughed out loud, displaying a smile you’d never seen before that was very handsome.

“I’m not going to eat my wife and child,” he said, matter-of-factly, picking up Meryl’s tiny hand between two fingers and gently shaking it, “am I, little baby bat? You are not for eating! You are for spoiling! You are going to be the most spoiled insufferable little girl in the whole world.”

He looked at her with absolute adoration.

“Daaaaa!” she gurgled, gripping his finger in her much smaller ones and pushing it in her mouth.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” you asked as you stared in awe as your little child innocently chewed on the vampire’s digit that had only moments ago been ripping apart an orc twenty times her size.

His eyes flashed and his opposite hand found your cheek, his cool fingers drifting down your face.

“Because I’ve been watching you,” he said smiling, “since you suggested the rays to me in the fish store. I’ve become fascinated with you.”

You'd met Levi at the fish store you'd worked at a few years earlier before your business had taken off. It was a high end boutique for salt water fish and you'd sold him on the stingrays.

They'd always been your favorite and you'd wanted some yourself, but there was no chance you would ever have the money for an enclosure large enough.

You had no idea, the entire time you'd been coming over to his house, servicing his fish tank Levi had been growing more and more attached to you. He'd pined after you, especially, while you were pregnant and delicate, infuriated that your fiance let the little, round mother of his child waddle from house to house working on fishtanks. He sighed.

“I thought I had more time to seduce you after I ate- I mean, I-ah, since…whatever his name was…disappeared,” he frowned, “but of course a pretty thing like you would be popular and attract all the wrong sort. That’s the curse of beautiful women, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened at him.

“B-but I’m human…” you said.

Surely a vampire clan lord didn’t want a mere human and her baby.

“And you will remain so until you’re done nursing…then we’ll discuss a more permanent arrangement,” he replied.

You gasped.

“A more…permanent-”

“Shhh, you are very tired my little guppy,” he cooed and you felt your eyes getting heavy as he looked into them with his swirling irises.

No! Not again! You tried to fight it, but your world went foggy and your hands went limp around Meryl. When you were asleep, Levi arranged you against his chest and smiled down at his new baby girls.

“Daaadaaa!” Meryl babbled sweetly at him as she tried to grab at his fangs.

“That's right! Don't tell your mama but I killed your sperm donor, little baby bat,” he said in his own baby voice, gazing into Meryl's big eyes and gently wiggling her tiny toes.

He lifted her chubby little foot to nibble it and smiled, “now I’m your daddy. Can you say dad-dee?”

She stuck her foot in her mouth and waved at him with her pudgy hands.

"Daaaaaaa-drrrreeeee," she tried and they both grinned.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster oc #monster romance #monster x human #x reader #monster fluff #vampire fluff #vampire #x mom reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x darling

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riizebabie444 · 6 months

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𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 🩶

🩶 ─── in this reading, we will explore the qualities of the careers and fields you are best suited for, suggested careers for you and other career messages meant for you.

🩶 ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

🩶 ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

🩶 ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

🩶 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚

this is a random message but it is very clear. for some or most of you, the career or field you are wishing to go into at the moment, or the one you are already in, is the right one for you. there is also a message to explore your creative potential. it doesn't necessarily mean creating art like music, writing, paintings etc (although that may be true for some of you) it could also mean creative problem solving, a job which requires you thinking outside the box. working in a field where things are done differently to others in the industry. the image i have in mind is google. they do a lot to encourage creativity and the birth of new ideas. you'd fit best in a career which nurtures and encourages your creative side.

it's also best to be in a career where there is the opportunity to grow in every aspect, and to further your position over the years. for example, i don't think you'd feel comfortable and happy in a job where you stay in the same position for years doing the same thing every single day. some people are happy in those jobs. they like the stability and routine. however, you need a job where you can always learn new things and progress. i'm seeing progression is also important to you. it's important to go into a job where you have more opportunities to climb up the ladder, and it doesn't even need to be all about promotions. a job where you regularly switch tasks, or have new projects to work on. as long as you aren't doing the same things every day, you should avoid jobs which do.

a job where you can express the qualities of success and confidence. where you can prove to yourself and others that you are fully capable. it could also be a career which puts you in the public eye. something that makes you feel seen and appreciated. again, promotions are here. you want a job where you can progress to high places. perhaps even becoming a figure of leadership and authority. you may not be confident about such a position right now but when you find something you love and excel in, you would be the right fit for a leader. and for a number of you, caregiving roles may be good for you. it could be anything from nursing to therapy.

okay so here is where it gets a bit negative. with the three of swords you may experience job losses, or disappointment in being rejected from jobs. it could also indicate that you may end up stuck in a very stressful job and toxic work environment. you want to avoid places like that. however, i believe some of you may need to experience it in order to know what is the right or wrong job and workplace for you. and for a number of you i get the message that even though it is difficult and stressful, and the workplace is not good for your mental health, it will not last. you will find a better job or get promoted and belong in a much better space. so if you ever find yourself in that position, have hope that it will improve. i think it is also a message, especially if you are a leader, to not allow a toxic work environment to foster as it is your duty to ensure it is safe and healthy for everyone to work in.

enterprises might also be something you would work well in. i'm seeing representing small or local businesses, as well as larger corporations for a number of you. it could also be setting up your own business. for some of you, you may have a typical job in mind in order to pay your bills and support a family, but deep down you have a dream of having your own business or brand. at one point or another, you might be torn between keeping your job to pay your bills or leaving it all behind and investing in your own business. i think either is fine, however, for most of you who this applies too, the message is to find a balance between the two. you can work full time and have a passion project/business on the side. work on it slowly and over the years it will blossom, i'm hearing. it is crucial you do not pick between the two and instead find a balance.

to add the obvious, you may dream of being your own boss. and i think you would do amazing things as a leader, however, you still need some sort of discipline or balance from elsewhere. if you're your own boss for too long, you can easily get lazy and complacent. so it is important for you to keep a job elsewhere to ensure you don't lose routine or dedication.

one last message is to expect times of change in your career as much as you should expect times of stagnation. any job you have, you will experience boredom at times and excitement at other times. you need to hear this. jobs are not one dimensional. you should expect many things from your career, both good and bad. so don't get your hopes up too high and don't get too disheartened when things don't go your way.

suggested careers/fields: project manager, hair dresser/hair salon owner, investments, influencer, working up the ladder, franchise owner, higher education, professor, networking, entrepreneur, business law, accountant for local businesses, nursing, social worker, therapist, counsellor, childcare, HR, arts and fashion, selling and/or creating luxury goods, beauty guru, acting, admin, consulting, writer, researcher.

cards: high priestess, the empress, six of wands, three of swords, two of pentacle, wheel of fortune

🩶 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤

i'm immediately hearing decision making. for some of you, a job where you can make the decisions would be good however for most, i am seeing that you may not fit best in careers where important decisions fall in your lap. to get one thing straight, every career will involve decision making at one point or another. but some careers involve very important decision making and i believe when you have too many important decisions to make on a regular basis, you can become very stressed. perhaps you are an indecisive person. overall, i think working in a position that requires heavy decision making would not be the best. however, if you are working with others to make decisions, i think it would be a good career for you.

for most of you, if not all, you will find success in the career of your taking. and for a lot of you, the cards are representing another person in regards to your career. a colleague or a business partner. if you dream of being your own boss, perhaps you would do well sharing this dream with someone else. it could also be a colleague. your career will lead to you meeting someone important. or vice versa, you will meet someone and they will help you get a really good job, the job of your dream. of course be careful, because people who help others often want help in return later down the line.

communication is a key theme here. a job which requires you to communicate your thoughts and ideas. for example, sharing stories as a writer, or even as an academic writer sharing research, or in law by communicating and mediating for your clients. i think for some of you, you would like a position of power. and for others you may not. for those who do, you would do well to use your power and authority for others rather than not doing so. you'd find more fulfilment and success by helping others. and mediating also. taking on communication responsibilities for third parties would be a good career for you. for example, an agent who helps people find jobs and corporations to find employees. hosting job interviews for the people you work for. even ghost-writing, communicating on behalf of the client. again with law. you may also enjoy the feeling of being responsible for transfers, employees, assets, moving companies. anything that involves moving one thing from one place to another.

i'm seeing disputes/conflict. perhaps you may deal with this a lot in your work environment or otherwise, it could mean your career typically involves this. i'm seeing HR settling an issue between employees. things like that. you might naturally be drawn to conflict or drama, and if not you are just interested in it. therefore, a position which allows you to be involved in it as an outsider would be interesting to you. there would always be something new to keep you on your toes. and you would feel very gratified after helping others solve their problems. in environments where there is lack of communication and poor leadership, you would fit in well in the role of solving these issues. it's very much a behind the scenes job but it is incredibly valuable to companies.

you need a job which will not disturb your work life balance. it's best to only take on a career which does not require you to work overtime, or where workload leaks into your private time and life. it is important to have a job where you can work hard, but only within the working hours. a job where you can give fair and honest work and feel appreciated enough to have your own time to spend with loved ones and yourself.

a job where you can always remain unbiased. you may feel uncomfortable picking sides so a place which encourages objectivity would be a good fit for you. you might also enjoy jobs in health and fitness. somewhere that encourages others to do their best. teaching, also. law and order are important also.

a slow paced environment would be perfect for you. fast paced might lead to high levels of stress. so slow paced is better. successful careers are built over time. you're not too fussed about seeing amazing results straight away because you know the best results always come after long and consistent efforts. so jobs which require you to be very patient would be good. you expect all of your work to pay off in the future. because of this, i also thing agricultural industries may be good. the final message is to not be swayed by other people's thoughts and opinions. there may be some people who have hidden motives with you and your career. you may struggle to make good decisions and not know who to trust which may end up with you trusting the wrong people. be careful, and hone in on your intuition because it will help you in the most crucial times of your career.

suggested careers/fields: animal care, justice system, politics, judge, lawyer, sales person, guidance counsellor, public speaking, doctor (not specifically medical but in other fields), self-employed, problem solving, mediator, HR, teacher, auditor, law, financial institutions, health and fitness, farming, gardening/landscaping, charity worker, social worker, engineer, scientist, STEM, activist, telecommunication, journalism, trading, public relations, events manager, customer service, liaison.

cards: the magician, the sun, two of swords rv, five of swords, justice, seven of pentacles, high priestess rv

🩶 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

overall, this pile feels quiet and mellow. so i think calm jobs that don't involve too much excitement would be good for you. a job that doesn't require far too much effort from you, but you still know exactly what you are doing in the job. which is funny because most of the cards suggest otherwise, but the vibes i'm feeling are different. i randomly heard "beware of snakes" so maybe it is that you want to avoid bad vibes from others. you want to do well and have the personality and potential to perform incredibly (it is represented by the two aces and the magician) but you are afraid of attracting jealousy from others. most of you may believe in nazar, or the evil eye. you want to do well quietly, staying humble and not gaining too much attention from others.

you might want to avoid the overly friendly workplaces, the companies that tell you "we're all like family" because odds are your coworkers will be all up in your business when you don't want them to be. and more often that not, they may not like to see of hear about you doing well. of course, you can choose whichever company you want yo work for, this is all subjective. however, the message is strong here to not let coworkers get too close. if you feel like you need to be cautious, do not doubt it at all. jobs where you can work independently or remotely may be good for you. i think you enjoy the responsibilities and the isolation you can get from those jobs. you can really focus on your own work instead of worrying about socialising and networking (which are important, don't get me wrong but i think you are not the type of person to be heavily involved in such activities).

technology and IT. jobs where you're required to use your brain. you need mental and intellectual stimulation so jobs which require lots of brainwork would be great for you. also jobs which require you to have a sharp and quick mind, and even a quick tongue. a job where you need to respond quickly, on the spot. maybe as a lawyer or judge. i think you are the type of person who tends to avoid making decisions but i believe the best career for you would involve you needing to make decisions as a part of it.

i also see jobs where you can provide stability for others as well as providing stability for yourself. this could mean that setting up your own business to help or guide others would give you a lot of satisfaction. such as a personal trainer, life coach, dietician etc anything that will allow you to improve the lives of others. you could even be thinking of starting your own sales company. i'm seeing a position where you are calm, smart, and powerful. logical and rational, and also honest. key organisational abilities here, like secretarial duties. a job where you can keep things organised tightly.

there is a huge duality here. like, i see you craving to be a bold and confident person in your ideal job, someone who is admired by others but in reality you are afraid to be that person. maybe you are not used to being in the spotlight and you're not ready to start now. so you must find a balance between the two. you can be confident without needing to be in the spotlight. i think your biggest fear in regards to career is conflict. you want to avoid uneasy workplace relationships. you don't want to be too close with your coworkers but at the same time you don't want to be left out. you want to perform well and show off how good you are at what you do but you're terrified of other people being jealous of you. there's not much i can say other than jealousy is often rooted in workplaces. no matter where you work, there will always be others who are jealous of you, some places more than the next. however, what matter the most is your own comfort and confidence. don't admit to defeat out of fear of others. if you love a job. go for it. i'm literally hearing it right now. don't let your fear of others hold you back, but always be careful about what you share.

suggested careers/fields: IT, psychiatry, surgeon, engineer, affiliate marketing, life coach, personal trainer, fertility, army and police, investigations, detective, guide, translator, business job, nine to five, desk job, logistics, bargaining, vlogger, running your own business, innovation, writer, interior design.

cards: ace of swords, ace of pentacles, the magician, king of swords, five of swords, two of swords, nine of wands

🩶 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧

i cannot say this first paragraph is for all of you however, it will resonate with some of you. the career you have in mind right now, or the one you are currently in, is not the right one for you. i see there needs to be some change or transformation in your career. of course it is not easy to just change career. but if you feel this message is for you, it might be worth looking into a new career which is more worth your time and effort. there is a decision that needs to be made. if you're thinking of switching careers/field, this paragraph and reading is definitely for you.

overall, i'm seeing two different sides to this pile. one side is an authoritarian side, position of power and respect. while the other is more caring and nurturing. your ideal career could be either of those, or both. i see a number of you preferring to be in a job with explicit structure. a jobs that tells you what you need to do. so you know what you need to do every day and there is no confusion over tasks or responsibilities. but at the same time, you want to have some freedom. every day cannot be the same or you'll get bored. that is why is see jobs involved in childcare. you know your responsibilities in regards to caring for children, but with children, no day will be the same. this could also be caring for animals, elderly people, people with disabilities or other vulnerable people.

and although jobs where you can connect with children would be good, any job which can allow you to connect with others in general is a good choice. particularly, partnerships. a business partnership would be great as you can connect with others as well as structure your own enterprise. and since you rely on a structure from others to keep you in order, having other people work with you in an enterprise can keep you in line. also, if you know about the principal agent theory, i think you would perform well as an agent. you do well when performing tasks on behalf of a principal. in addition, when you are working for someone else, you know what you are doing, and what you need to achieve in order to satisfy them. whereas if you are working entirely for yourself, you might often feel confused about what needs to be done.

practical jobs which require thinking (but not too much thinking) would be great for you. you like to be actively involved, both physically and mentally, in your work which means repetitive jobs that have you on autopilot most of the time would be too draining and unsatisfying for you. but still, i think you would greatly appreciate professional settings and/or professional boundaries. i believe some of you may also work well in a field which is somehow connected to your past. for example, if you grew up with financial difficulties, you would be most satisfied in finance. or if you had a difficult childhood, then you would enjoy giving care to children. if you really enjoyed school, you might be most comfortable working in a school. it's that kind of theme and is entirely subjective to your own experiences. but something from your childhood connecting with your career is relevant.

one message here is to let go of insecurities and jealousy and imposter syndrome. because you want to be the best of the best, and you compare yourself to others a lot. you might often feel inclined to outdo others. it's a normal feeling, but the cards here are saying to let go of those thought habits. it will not bring you anything good. building up a successful and stealthy career for yourself will greatly be based on creating a foundation from your values as well as your passion. so don't sabotage yourself or others for your own success. keep in line with your morals. spiritual guidance also comes up here. so perhaps seek some in order to overcome these traits, and maybe consider it as a part of your career.

i can't tell your stance on risk, i feel it is a mixed bunch here. some of you may like taking risk while others do not. if you feel like a career which involves risk is something you are interested in, the cards do tell you that it is a very important decision, however, you must make calculated risks. don't just take the leap of faith. you need a thorough plan. i also see something creative, like art or writing, maybe even food. take it as it resonates and if you feel attracted to pile one also, give it a read because that is the creative pile.

suggested careers/fields: hierarchy, desk job, large corporations, teaching, childcare, primary school, paediatric, healthcare, hospital, banking, army, tax, career advisor, funeral director, financial advisor, insurance, software engineer, therapist, lecturer, spiritual guide, bookkeeping, church, electricity/energy, power plants, technology, chef.

cards: the lovers, death, king of pentacles, six of cups, four of pentacles, the hierophant, the fool, two of swords

#ʚɞ jella’s readings #pac #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pick a pile #tarot reading #free tarot reading #tarot community

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months

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his eyes still glisten

A/N: so, this is based off a real life experience that I and others have probably been on both the receiving end, and the giving end whether it was intentional or not. Healthy communication in all types of relationships is important, as are boundaries. We all make mistakes and hurt people sometimes, but the important part to remember is that as human beings, we feel. We innately want to do good, and sometimes these hard conversations need to be had. Remember to also hold compassion for yourself during a painful/stressful time. We always can do better, and be better. 🤍

~word count: 2.9k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is feeling neglected in his current relationship with you. He breaks finally when you are no show to a planned dinner date. You and Joel talk through your feelings and set healthy boundaries in your relationship .

warnings: angst, hurt, some fluff, miss communication,minor whump, comfort, arguments, light mention of alcohol consumption, uncomfortable conversations, boundaries being set, vulnerability, just two people trying to navigate in a relationship, resolution, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

As human beings we often find ourselves being engrossed in our lives. It’s never often intentional, but it’s easy as sliced butter to inadvertently make everything about ourselves. Our jobs, our relationships, our opinions, our thoughts. When we find ourselves too focused on our own lives, we forget the important people. Our friends, our families, our partners. You’ve forgotten your Joel, and he’s not quite sure how much longer he can keep his voice silent.

It’s not that you’re a bad person, a bad partner, a bad listener, you’ve just fallen off the rails a bit. Joel knows that he too needs to work on communicating his feelings better. His problem is that he often finds himself bottling everything up for so long that it begins to chip away at his exterior, piece by piece. He’s hurting; but you don’t realize it. After being together for so long, the honeymoon stage eventually wears off. He’s always been there to listen, be the shoulder used to soak your tears in. You’ve been good to him, so good to him, but lately he’s been feeling neglected. He feels the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. The trepidation that maybe you just don’t love him anymore.

He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” The waitress at yours and Joel’s favorite restaurant asks with a gentle smile. She’s stopped by the table a few times now.

Joel checks his phone with a heavy sigh. You're running twenty-minutes late, but he wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. He gives the waitress a small, polite smile as he shakes his head. “No, Just a few more minutes. My girlfriend is running late.”

“Of course sir, no problem. Would you like another beer while you wait?”

He nods tightly before she even has the chance to finish.

The minutes begin to tick by as he nurses his crisp bottle Miller Lite. He feels pathetic each time he glances at the entrance to the restaurant. His mind plays a cruel trick on him as he searches for your face in the other diners.

Where the fuck are you?

He scrolls through his messages between you and him. Searching for any context clues as to why you were late. He calls you once, twice, a third time. He can’t help the dread that begins to seep deep into his bones. His palms are clammy to the touch as he imagines the worst possible outcomes; you’re breaking up with him, you’re seeing someone else.

No. No. He chants silently to his callous thoughts.

You’re just running late.

He finishes off his second beer as he begins to feel the tears sting the corner of his eyes. He refuses to show his emotions in a public setting. He won’t break down here, like this. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket as he slaps down enough bills to cover both the two beers, and a hefty tip for his waitress.

Once he’s safely behind the wheel of his truck, he finally breaks.

You were in back to back meetings all day. You were exhausted, burnt out, frustrated to the max limit, and your dinner date with Joel was forced to the back of your mind. Subconsciously, work was beginning to become your top priority, while your relationship was pushed to the backburner. It was becoming hard to juggle it all. Your sense of work-life balance was depleting faster than you could keep up. At the end of an extinguished flame that was barely holding on by a thread, was your boyfriend. Your Joel.

It’s a moment too late when you’re smacked head on with the realization that you fucked up. Shit, what day is today? Thursday. Oh–fuck, Joel. Your own sense of dread forces its way into your system as you frantically dial his number. You barely hear your co-worker telling you to have a good evening as you rush out to your car.

He doesn’t pick up. You try again, and again, and again.

He’s purposely ignoring your calls and you can’t seem to grasp the reason as to why.

A sense of relief washes over you when you find his truck parked in the driveway of your shared home. The lights in every room are turned off. He usually keeps a few on when he knows you’re working late in the office.

He hears your keys jingle at the front door from where he’s sat at the kitchen table. He doesn’t budge. He sits there with a stoic look on his face, and his hands clasped in his lap. Remnants of his tears laid streaked across his cheekbones like two cavernous streams.

“Joel, baby? Hey, I’m so sorry about tonight. I was in back to back meetings all day, Eric was being a fucking cranky pants, again. I had to stay late to work on this project that is due at the end of day Friday.” It felt like you were talking strictly to yourself as you softly closed the front door behind you, and plopped your keys in the bowl on the hall table right next to his. “Joel?”

Your ears perked at the sound of the kitchen chair scraping across the tile as you rounded the corner. “There you are. I’m so sorry, baby. I–”

“Why couldn’t you jus’ call me, or send me a text message. I sat in the fucking restaurant waitin’ for you. I could have changed the time of the reservation had I known you would be workin’ late.” He answers flatly as his forefinger nervously begins to pick away at the skin along his cuticles. A nasty habit he can’t seem to break.

“Baby, I know. I didn’t have a ton of access to my phone, and I just got caught up in a lot of shit today. You know it wasn’t intentional, right?”

He swallows down the urge to scoff at your dismissive response as his eyes slowly focus on you. “Can you..not call me baby right now? I’m trying to have a fuckin’ conversation with you, and you’re completely dismissing what I just said.” He bites back out of pure frustration.

“Dismissing you? Joel, I just said I was fucking sorry. I told you that I was busy–”

“Yeah, I heard you. You think I'm not busy too? Yet, I still take the time out of my schedule to communicate with you, because it’s the considerate and bare minimum thing to do! You couldn’t just take five fuckin’ seconds to send me a text?!”

“Joel, I never said that you weren’t busy too? Can you please not put words in my mouth? I was in back-to-back meetings. I barely had any access to my phone! What are you insinuating here? That I'm just making up excuses?!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you had zero time to communicate to your boyfriend?! I’m not insinuating that you’re makin’ up excuses, because that’s exactly what you are doing right now. All I'm asking for is some communication. Do you know how fucking pathetic I felt waiting around for you? I just wanted to have a relaxing evening with my girlfriend. I’ve been looking forward to it all day, all week, and it’s like you don’t care.” His voice cracked at the end. He felt utterly defeated as he scrubbed a hand across his face with an exasperated sigh. He hated confrontation. He hated fighting with you. It ripped his heart to shreds to see the way your face immediately fell from his words.

When you couldn’t muster up a response, he took this as his opportunity to get everything off of his chest.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, darlin.’ That is quite literally the last thing I want to do, but i’m at my fuckin’ breakin’ point here. You’re the most important person in my life outside of my brother, and lately I've been feeling neglected in our relationship. I don’t think you mean it intentionally, but these past few weeks I have been hurting. I know I should have communicated this to you sooner, but lately it’s been all about you. I know you’re busy at work. I know you’re stressed and frustrated with some of your co-workers, but what about my day? What about the projects that I have been working on? What about my stress? What about..me?” His eyes glistened like two shiny marbles under the warm glow of the overhanging kitchen light.

You were taken aback. It felt as if a freight train had collided with you and smashed your body down into smithereens. You hesitantly pulled out the kitchen chair across from where he was sitting before you slowly sank down. “Joel, I had no idea that you had been feeling this way at all. I truly thought that things were okay between us. I’m sorry I didn’t read between the lines and picked up on your change of mood. I’ve just been so caught up in myself lately, that I haven’t created the time for us to just sit down and communicate like this.” You softly spoke as you clasped your hands along the smooth finish of the wooden table.

“It’s not just about reading between the lines, I have some responsibility in this as well because I can’t just expect you to know exactly how i’m feeling if i’m not taking the time to communicate it to you. I don’t want you to feel like you need to internalize everything I'm sayin’, okay? I jus’ have done a disservice to us both for keeping this shit bottled up for as long as I have.” He murmured as he moved his hands from his lap and rested them along the table.

“How..else have I been making you feel lately, Joel?”

You watched as he took a deep inhale through his nose, before exhaling shakily through his mouth. You saw his lower lip wobble with uncertainty as his still glistening eyes met yours.

“Truthfully? I jus’ feel like I ain’t as important to you anymore. Like I could just get up and leave one day and you wouldn’t even notice that I wasn’t there. I feel like I'm always there to listen, and comfort you, but you don’t do the same for me. I feel like I constantly am seeking reassurance that you actually still want to be in a relationship with me. I feel like it’s a one way street, and my car is about to spin out because i’ve lost all capability of steering. I feel obligated to tell you the things that you want to hear, in fear of hurting your feelings unintentionally. I feel like i’m constantly putting my best foot forward in the relationship, and in the same breath, I’m trying to hold it together with some expired fuckin’ glue. I feel like I've been putting my everything into us, and I'm just becoming an afterthought to you.” Admittedly, it felt good to get everything he was keeping pent up off his chest finally.

“Joel, you are so important to me. I absolutely would notice if you just weren’t here one day. I’m sorry that I have been making everything about myself lately. I promise you it’s not in an intentional, or malicious way, I've just been getting sidetracked, and I haven’t been taking the time to focus on us and our relationship. I completely understand why you are feeling this way lately, and your present feelings towards me are completely valid. I haven’t been the best partner to you, and you shouldn’t feel like our relationship is a one way street. It should be a two way street, and I regrettably have lost sight of that.”

He had half expected you to blow up in his face over his vulnerable admittance. He had his own baggage from past failed relationships, so that unhealed side of him wanted to believe that you were just complying out of spite. The healed side of him was a gentle reminder that you were human too, and that mistakes are made, and people are hurt, but the most important fact was that you were listening to him. You were validating his feelings and holding yourself accountable.

“Darlin’ it’s okay. We’ve both been shit communicators lately. I think it's something that we both need to work on, don’t you think? Earlier this evening when I saw that you called, I was purposely ignoring you because I was feeling angry, hurt, and I was feeling bitter. I know I should have just taken the call, but I also didn’t want to explode on you either. I was at that point, and before anything could be said, I needed to calm down and collect my thoughts. I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes, and that’s also somethin’ i’d like to personally work on within myself.”

“Yeah, we can definitely use some touching up in that department. I need to start taking your feelings into consideration more. I’m glad that you didn’t pick up your phone, because honestly? It probably would have gotten ugly. I also think that lately I have turned you into my personal punching bag, because I'm constantly throwing my work drama onto your shoulders without even thinking about asking if you’re in the headspace to take on my emotions. I just open my mouth and spew, and I need to be more considerate on how you're feeling at that moment. I know we can always vent to each other about our frustrations, but maybe a boundary should be set?”

He slowly reached for your hands across the middle of the table as his fingers slotted through yours. He gave your hands a reassuring squeeze, followed by a soft smile.

“Yeah.” He rasped warmly, “I think it would be good for us to set some healthy boundaries. Sometimes I just don’t have the emotional capacity to take on your frustrations, especially if I am feeling particularly down on myself, or just in a general mood. With that, I really think it would be good for us to think about the positives as well y’know? Maybe we should try to not let our frustrations completely take over the vibe all the time? Cause honestly, I do find myself seeking your comfort and support when I find myself needing it most, but with that, I also need to remember that you might not have the emotional capacity to drop everything for me, and that is okay. We both have lives existing outside of the relationship, I jus’ think we gotta find that balance that works for both of us.”

You gently squeezed his hands back as you attentively listened to everything he was saying. “Yes, I agree that sometimes we both don’t have that emotional capacity for one another. Perhaps a level of consent can be established? Just a simple, ‘hey, i’m really frustrated right now, can I please tell you how i’m feeling?’ That way, it doesn’t just feel like we’re venting without checking in with one another first?”

“I think that is a great idea, darlin,’ why should consent and boundaries only be applied in the bedroom? I think it’s beneficial to have it present in all aspects of our relationship. I also would appreciate it if maybe we start having these conversations more? Maybe they can be like weekly check in’s to see how we're feeling? This might be considered to be a little lame, but it’s almost like we’re scrapbookin’ our feelings? Maybe that ain’t the right word for it, but I jus’ want our line of communication to be open, y’know?” He could feel his once tensed up nerves begin to gradually settle. His heart no longer felt like a twisted coil now that you both were communicating.

“Yes, we should make a point to sit down and make the time to have these conversations. It might be a bit tough at first, but I think we can manage it. I get what you mean with the scrapbooking comment. It almost brings a lighter element to it? Plus, we don’t have to just talk about the frustrating stuff. We can talk about all the fun and exciting aspects as well. Joel, I just want you to know that you don’t have to bottle everything up before it becomes too much for you to handle. You can always talk to me, and I can’t promise that I will always be readily available, but I will actively put in the effort to be there for you, just like you have been for me. You and I aren’t perfect. No one is. No relationship is flawless, but I think with a bit of nurturing, we’ll be alright.”

Your own eyes began to glisten as you listened to the familiar scrape of the kitchen chair along the tile as he padded over to you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, as his own looped tenderly around your waist. He nearly crushed you to his chest from how tightly he was hugging you. He really loved you that much. You were his girl after all.

“I love you, honey. Thank you for taking the time to listen and acknowledge my feelings. I appreciate it so much, and we’re gonna be alright. We’re jus’ hittin’ a little speed bump right now, but we haven’t lost control of steering entirely.” He nuzzled his face into your cheek. You could feel the bristles in his beard gently scratch your skin as he squeezed you tightly.

“I love you so much, Joel. Thank you for being honest with me, and I promise I'll do better.”

“I know you will, baby. S’okay. We’re all just human at the end of the day.”

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makeitmingi · 14 days

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 39]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

Chapter warning(s): There are some possible triggers in this chapter. Mentions of a bad past, depression, anxiety, self harm, mental health instability, therapy sessions with a psychologist. Please read at your own discretion.

"And you're good to go." The nurse handed you the kitten's medications. You hummed and went through it before scanning the receipt and paying for everything. It was a hefty bill, as expected of vet visits.

"We're all set. Let's go." You and Yunho went to the car, he opened the door for you to enter. But he didn't start the car, you just sat in the passenger seat with the kitten in your lap.

"So what do we do?" Yunho asked. You threw your head back against the seat.

"I don't know, Yunho. What should I do?" You turned to him. He reached over to scratch the underneath of the kitten's chin.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'll support you to the best that I can, okay?" Yunho smiled, reaching up to hold your hand. You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking about your options.

"Knowing how black cats are stigmatised in a shelter, he's not going to get adopted and the way that they're overcrowded..." You sighed sadly.

"I know, you won't be able to leave the little guy alone. If you decide to keep him, we'll take turns taking care of him." Yunho chuckled.

"Really? You'll do that? Okay, I'll keep him with me. If I put him in a shelter, I'll go crazy thinking about him. He's already been abandoned once, he needs a good home and people who will take care of him." You smiled. Yunho nodded his head, reaching over to cup your cheeks and give you a kiss.

"Alright. That means you're officially a cat mom to this little one right here." Yunho giggled.

"Means you're a cat dad." You replied. Yunho's eyes widened at your words then softened, the kitten was really going to be like your first child and it warmed his heart.

"Tomorrow, we should go get him some actual things since he's going to stay permanently." Yunho suggested and you nodded.

"All that's left is to give him a name." You said.

"You're terrible with names though. Look at what you named your stuffed golden retriever and stuffed manatee." Yunho laughed and you glared at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Yuyu and Yunnie are great names!" You scoffed.

"They're basically variations of my name. That's not very creative." Yunho pointed out. You rolled your eyes, deciding to just ignore his insults. The kitten playfully pawed at the buttons of your shirt and you held him away.

"Don't do that." You scolded lightly, clicking your tongue. He just let out a loud meow in defiance. You and Yunho burst out laughing at how cute he was.

"Let's go back to mine to chill for a bit, drop the kitten off then go in for dinner shift." You said.

"Alright. He's probably tired for all his jabs too. They're usually like that." Yunho nodded and went back to your house.

"Here you go. All nice and comfy, have a nice sleep." You placed the kitten in the crate, amongst the blankets, but left the gate open since you and Yunho were around.

"So..." You handed Yunho a cup of cold brew coffee as you sat on the couch with him.

"You worried me this morning when you didn't show up." Yunho stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I know... I'm sorry, I should have told you but I didn't know how to. I've been stressing over this for a while, wondering how I'm going to tell you this. It's nothing against you, it's me, I just... I don't know." You sighed, burying your face in your hands. Yunho gently pulled your hands away, kissing your forehead.

"Don't worry, take your time. Just tell me whatever you want to." He said, bringing your thighs over his lap and wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you.

"Remember when we visited my mother... I said I'll tell you more about my life after my mother died? How I barely survived."

"Yeah. I remember." Yunho nodded. You sighed and leaned against his chest, trying to collect your thoughts.

"When I got older, I became that typical brooding kid. I wanted to see if my father still cared about me so I acted out, I did a lot of things, didn't come home, mixed with the wrong crowd..." You started.

"But he was too distracted by my stepmother to care that I didn't even come home." You scoffed.

"What about Seonghwa?" Yunho asked.

"He was the only one that cared, he wanted to go to the police multiple times but I would always contact me and assure him that I'm safe. But soon, I just... distanced myself. I liked the life outside, it helped me feel numb." You chuckled bitterly.

"I wasn't proud of it, the things I did. I thought those people actually cared about me. They made me feel loved, like I belong to something." You said, tears forming in your eyes.

"Baby..." Yunho grabbed a tissue and gently wiped your tears away from your cheeks.

"I was going crazy, Yun. I was killing myself and my father didn't give a damn about me!" You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Shh, shh. Okay, you don't have to go further." Yunho wrapped both arms around you, bringing you onto his lap and hugging you tightly. He hushed you softly.

"N-No, I have to. I need to tell you the truth." You shook your head.

"I hurt Hwa the most. I pushed away the only person that's ever loved me and cared about me." You cried.

"He knows you didn't mean it. I'm sure you didn't mean it too. Sometimes when we're hurting, we also end up hurting the ones that are the closest to us." Yunho stroked your head.

"Seonghwa and his parents were the only ones that helped me. Seonghwa got me out of that whole situation, made me leave that life and checked me into an institution. He got me the help I need and has been with me through everything, every step of my life. I owe him my life." You said.

"You were institutionalised?" Yunho blinked.

"He didn't force me. Seonghwa and I spoke, I agreed that it was the only way for me to be functioning again. If it's not for her, I would be dead by now." You said.

"It was the right choice then. I'm glad you got the help you need (y/n)." He held your hand.

"That's why I hesitated to tell you all this, Yunho. It's not something I'm proud of and it's shocking to-"

"No. Thank you for telling me this and trusting me to tell you this. I'm not scared of you, who am I to judge you after everything you've been through on your own." He pressed his forehead against yours.

"So besides this morning, if you've noticed that I disappear or have errands to run in the morning. I'm seeing my psychologist." You said.

"I understand, that makes sense. Do these sessions help?" He seemed hesitant to ask.

"I guess. I don't know how to describe it. It keeps me sane and yet, I feel like I'm driving off the deep end. Obviously I'm far from 'healing' if I can even be healed in any way. But it helps me sort my thoughts and feelings out." You explained.

"That's all that matters then." He kissed your temple.

"The fact is, the topic of family will always be a wound that never closes. It's just something I am taking a long time to come to terms with and to deal with." You sighed.

"And that's okay. Some times you take a lifetime to heal and that's okay too." He comforted.

"It makes me feel useless though. Every time I feel like I'm making progress, my father does something that sends me back two steps."

"I wish your father would just leave you alone." He said honestly.

"Like I said, I'm still holding on to the possibility that he'll go back to the man or father that he once was. But each time, that hope slowly slips from my grasp." You rubbed your forehead.

"And that's not your fault. You've given him so many chances and sacrificed so much of yourself for him. It's not fair to you." Yunho frowned.

"It's not just that too. I... Just like going to my mother's grave, every time I see my psychologist, it mentally exhausts me. I become a void. I try not to but it just happens. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho all know, they've been very understanding of that." You informed.

"They always try to be here for me after a session. Even if all I do is sleep, them being here helps me a lot. It brings me comfort." You smiled.

"No wonder you're all so close. Right from the start, when I met all of you and saw how you worked together, it was like all of you were more than friends." Yunho said.

"We're family. Y-You are my family too." You smiled softly.

"That's right. If I could change your past, trust me I would. But for the future, you'll never be alone again." He pressed his lips to yours.

"Thank you, Yunho. For loving me and showing me love." You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. Yunho laughed and showered you in kisses.

"Ack!" You struggled. You were both interrupted by the kitten standing there, meowing at the two of you.

"Someone doesn't like to be excluded it seems." Yunho laughed. You bent down to pick the kitten up, putting him in your lap.

"I am tempted to name you Shadow because you follow me around like a shadow. But... Thinking about the wood type that I like to use when I'm smoking meats... How about Whiskey? He looks like he'll respond to that name." You asked, stroking the top of Whiskey's head while he rubbed his cheek against your stomach.

"Whiskey? That's... actually not a bad name. It's random how you relate it to smoking meats but it's cute." Yunho said, cooing at the kitten.

"I relate everything in my life to cooking and food alright?" You rolled your eyes, making Yunho laugh.

"And I wouldn't have you any other way." Yunho smiled.

"We should go soon or we'll be late." You stood up, holding Whiskey in your arms. Yunho followed you to your room, helping you set up a fence to cage Whiskey in with his crate and litter box.

"Looks like I'll have to move things around and train him to use the litter box." You rubbed the back of his neck.

"One step at a time." Yunho held your hand. You nodded in agreement. Suddenly, Yunho tugged you to him, hugging you tightly.

"I love you, (y/n). You're not broken, you're not a burden, you're not alone. You've survived for so long, having to carry all this on your back. You're amazing and strong." Yunho said as he hugged you, his voice cracking a little.

"I love you. You're perfect just the way you are, I don't want or need you to change." The way Yunho spoke about you with love, only Seonghwa has ever spoke about you as such, and it broke your heart.

"Oh, Yun. Don't cry over me. It's not worth it... And I love you too." You pulled him down slightly so you could hold his face in your hands, wiping his tears.

"Don't say that. You are worth it." He pressed his face into your shoulder and cried for you, and everything you've been through.

"You take such good care of me, Yunho. I'm sorry I haven't been able to give anything back to you." You apologised.

"No. Not at all." He shook his head. Yunho never measured or thought that he gave you more than you gave him. In fact, he was just over the moon you trusted him enough to tell him everything.

"Let's wash our faces and go to the restaurant." Yunho smiled. You nodded with a hum.

After washing your faces in cold water to try and hide the fact that the both of you just cried, you and Yunho headed to the restaurant, not wanting to be late and keep the cooking team waiting. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho were already in Jongho's car when you and Yunho arrived.

"Hwa." You went up to your best friend and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head as you buried your face against his chest.

"I told him everything." You whispered, just audible enough for him to hear you.

"Okay. We can about it later." He replied.

"Sure." You nodded. Seonghwa held your hand as you all walked up to the restaurant. Yunho just let him, knowing you probably needed Seonghwa right now.

"Yunho... What did you do? Because I swear to all the heavens and levels of hell that exists, if you hurt my jagi, I'll-"

"Woo, calm down. He didn't do anything to me." You stopped the male from raging.

"He better not have." Jongho crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Yunho. The taller male just gulped, suddenly frightened for his life with Wooyoung and Jongho's threats. He took a step towards you, hiding behind you even if your height can't hide him.

"Why are you hiding behind me? Do you really think they can't see you? Do you not remeber that you're taller than me." You laughed as you looked at Yunho.

"I know I'm taller than you. But you're scarier and fiercer than me so you can protect me. Especially against them." Yunho said sheepishly.

"Unbelieveable." You shook your head and facepalmed.

"Alright, let's start cooking." Seonghwa clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention. All of you brought out the trays of deli containers with the prepped ingredients you prepared.

"Everyone knows what they're doing right? Sound out if you're available or need help." You instructed.

"I'm starting the ice cream churner for our dessert." Wooyoung said. You made the pickled beetroot for your salmon dish since that needed to sit aside to pickle.

"My beetroot is pickling and the other components of the dish is all last minute prep. Is anyone available to do appetisers with me?" You asked. Before Seonghwa, Wooyoung or Jongho could reply, Yunho raised his hand with a big, excited smile on his face. You let out a snort of amusement.

"Me! Me! Me!" Yunho grinned, pushing his hand further as if you would not be able to see him.

"Fine. Yun, you're with me on appetisers." You shook your head and laughed. Yunho fist pumped in victory and was by your side instantly, with his apron on and ready.

"I need you to flake the fish. Use these two forks and pull it apart like this. But not too small because we're going to mix it with stuff later, that's going to break it further." You demonstated to him.

"Sure, I can do that." Yunho nodded and began to do as instructed. You worked on something else beside him.

"What fish is this?" He asked.

"Grilled swordfish. We're going to mix it with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, red wine vinegar, tomatoes and grilled peppers. You eat it with bread." You said.

"I'll do the prep for the components of the salad so we can assemble it to order." Jongho said. Yunho was proud that he could do more complex kitchen tasks without you having to look over and check on him. Only if he had a question or asked for your help.

"How much of each do I add?" Yunho asked as you placed all the dressing ingredients in front of him.

"Trust your intuition, Yun. Add the tomatoes and peppers first, the others, add little by little until the taste is right to you." You smiled, patting his shoulder.

"What? I-I can't, I don't even know what it's supposed to taste like." Yunho's eyes widened.

"You'll know when you taste it." You encouraged him.

"Olive oil is rich, red wine vinegar is tart, balsamic vinegar is sweet. Then salt and pepper. There's optional lemon juice to add too, if you'd like. It's all about balance." You explained the flavours to him.

"Is that too much tartness? With the two vinegars and the lemon juice." Yunho asked.

"It depends on how sweet the peppers and tomatoes are today. Different batches and varieties all taste differently." You shrugged.

"But I... I don't-..." Yunho whimpered worriedly. You laughed, totally not feeling any sympathy for him. But still, you quietly did tasks that allowed you to stay by Yunho's side, silently giving him moral support. He frowned as focused on the bowl in front of him so he didn't notice the way you watched him from the corner of your eye.

"Hmm..." He would tilt his head as he tasted the dish then add more salt, pepper or vinegar. After another taste, he added a few drops of lemon juice to taste again and nodded in approval.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho whipped his head to you when he heard you stifle a laugh.

"Not at all. I think it's just amazing how far you've come, Yun." You smiled and his ears turned bright red at your praise.

"Can you check if it tastes okay?" Yunho pushed the big mixing bowl to you. You grabbed a plastic tasting spoon and took a taste of the swordfish mixture.

"It's great, Yun. A touch more black pepper though. But otherwise, it's perfect. See? I knew you could do it." You chuckled.

"Stop~" Yunho whined but add more pepper before folding it in. When he was done, he put it aside.

"Good evening, everyone." Hongjoong, Yeosang, Mingi and San came in. You all exchanged greetings with one another before they went to the locker room to put their things down. Then they headed out to the front to prepare for dinner service.

"Your team might need you. We've got it here." You said to Yunho. He pouted but nodded, leaning to sneak a kiss on your cheek then headed out to the front.

"Let's go through reservations for the night." Yunho called his friends. Since it was a busy Friday, family meal was extras of the bolognese.

"Ice cream is looking good and done. I'm moving it to the freezer." Seonghwa announced.

"Thanks, hyung." Wooyoung replied, busy preparing the dish that he was assigned to for the night. You cooked the pasta that the staff would be eating for family meal.

"Bolognese is good." Jongho informed.

"If anyone has time, have your dinner before the full swing of the Friday night crowd comes in." You said.

"Dinner is ready and in the bins whenever you guys are hungry and available to eat." Wooyoung told the team at the front of the house before coming back to the kitchen. You had a plate of pasta in your hands as you walked through all the prep for tonight, not wanting to miss anything out.

"Eat first." Seonghwa placed his hands on your shoulder, guiding you away from the walk in and to the table where his own plate of pasta was waiting for him.

"Don't worry, Hwa. I just want to make sure nothing is missed out." You said, sitting with him at a booth.

Seeing you and Seonghwa sit together at a table, engaged in your own conversation, Yunho moved to sit with his friends instead.

"This afternoon was hectic. But I told Yunho everything." You informed Seonghwa in a hushed voice as you ate. Seonghwa nodded, reaching over to hold your hand.

"That's great." He smiled, happy that you let someone else into your world to see the real you.

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averagewriter-inthedark · 7 months

Text

Time of Our Lives | Dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader | Dirty Dancing AU

TGM masterlist

Characters & pairings: dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, light profanity, pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | WC: 8.8k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @eternalsams 🩶🥹)

Premise: what happens when two childhood best friends from well off families reunite at a country club leading into a summer that would impact their careers for eternity while dancing around a decades worth of brewing feelings and recreating an iconic dance for the country clubs annual showcase? Here’s a hit, it’s gonna be like that one song Baby and Johnny fell in love to.

Note: I am alive and just know I (quite literally) had the time of my life writing this piece. It brought me back to my 80s movies/dirty dancing hyperfixation 😭 @eternalsams thank you so much for your patience and requesting this gem. I hope I did you Justice and dancer Jake has my heart and soul. Thank you for trusting me with your vision 🩶

————————

“You could at least act like you’re having fun, Y/n,” came the scolding words of her mother when she noticed the unamused expression Y/n possessed.

A natural state she would describe since they arrived at the resort. And what Y/n could not depart from no matter how hard she tried.

Summertime. The best time of year for some folks who are eager to get away from the stress and drama of work and school to relax and have fun. Whether it be a week or two whole months. For high school dance teacher Y/n L/n, her ideal summer vacation would be in the comfort of her own home with a book or chilling at her favorite resultant sipping on Margaritas while enjoying live music. Going out with her small select group of friends to dance was also on her list of summer necessities…but her family had other plans.

To kick off her 2023 summer break—which is to last nearly three weeks if she manages to survive—Y/n and her family were at an upscale Catskills resort located in the Appalachian Mountains not too far from New York, the place she currently called home. A snazzy estate one may add, for it was filled with alumni from the top Ivy League schools in the country.

And Y/n’s personal hell.

Of course she loved spending time with her parents and siblings….to an extent. But, when they’re constantly berating her life choices by becoming a dance instructor—on top of displeased opinions of her love life—-Y/n felt suffocated by them.

It was like she could never live up to the expectation they had of her no matter how much she proved herself and her talent. Not only were her parents highly respected doctors in their community, but her sister graduated Summa Cum Laude at Yale Law School, marrying her college sweetheart before taking a job at one of the city’s top firms. Then there was her brother. He went on to become a naval fighter pilot, distinguished and respected with his place at number one in his class during his year at Top Gun. His wife was a trauma nurse who worked at the same hospital as her parents.

Yet here she was—mind you, a former member of the New York City Ballet Company, Juilliard Alumni, performed at the Super Bowl, toured with Rihanna in the mid early 2010s, appeared in several music videos, and teaches at the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts—unable to adhere to their standards.

Parents…they want what’s best for their children. Right?

Yeah she found that hard to believe.

If only they saw her in the Ballroom. And no, not talking about the kind you see on Dancing With The Stars. She’s talking about the Ballroom that calls New York its home.

But also ballroom dancing. Her sister would have a heart attack if she discovered Y/n danced Bachata with Prince Royce at a New York latin club.

“Fun?” Y/n scoffed, sipping at her glass of champagne resulting in a light cringe at the taste. For rich people one would think they’d have the best there was. What just hit her tastebuds was something out of a box container imposing as fancy liquor. “I don’t see how anyone could find this type of rendezvous fun, mother.” She received a scolding glare.

“Keep your voice down,” the older woman kept looking around to see if anyone heard, “these are our friends.”

“Your friends,” Y/n corrected. There was no way in hell she’d consider any of the fake people in front of her friends. No matter how long their families have been acquainted. None of them liked each other, and were always trying to one up whenever someone voiced an accomplishment.

Instead of answering, Y/n’s mother simply walked away with an annoyed huff. No longer in the mood to argue. Rolling her eyes, Y/n downed the last of her champagne before making way out the french doors of the lounge and into one of the many patios. The sunshine greeted her with its vibrant and warm rays. Chatter from the guests sitting under umbrellas and beside the pool filled her ears. Y/n placed her sunglasses and booked it across until she was on the pathway leading to the guesthouse she and her family were staying.

“Y/n!” Had it been anyone else the woman would’ve mentally signed, but the voice behind the greeting was none other than her childhood best friend growing up, Natasha. A genuine smile appeared on her face as she turned around.

“Hey, Nat!” the two embraced in a hug, “Been a while, huh?” In truth the two hadn’t seen each other face to face since 2019 when Natasha moved to California to base her talent agency. Despite this, Natasha still traveled every year to Caskilles around this time to see her family, whereas Y/n remained in New York due to shows and gigs.

“More like four years,” a playful nudge was sent her way, “girl you left me here to fend for myself. I should feel betrayed,” Nat smirked, “but I can’t blame you. The only reason I keep coming to this place is to please my mom. It’s the only time all of us siblings are under the same roof.”

Natasha was the oldest of four and the only daughter to three sons. Her father had been the Mayor of New York City while her mother was the former District Attorney. All of her brothers had achieved prospective careers. Antonio, the second oldest, had been drafted by the MLB and currently played for the Washington Nationals. Dominic, the middle brother, was a nuclear engineer who rarely ever got time off but always managed to get a week in the summer. Lastly the youngest of the bunch, Victor, was a professional photographer who went on tour with artists like Journey, Lionel Richie, Daddy Yankee, and Stevie Nicks.

For Natasha, she had fallen in love with the fashion industry at a young age. After graduating from the Fashion Institute of Technology Natasha received an intern position at Vogue Magazine before becoming a product and brand marketing manager at Louis Vuitton, for which she got the opportunity to live in Paris, France for four years. There she got to work closely with Virgil Abloh, who unfortunately passed away in 2021, and Nicolas Ghesquiere.

As of 2022 Nat relocated to San Francisco and developed her own talent agency for aspiring models and fashion photographers who come from low-income backgrounds, LGBTQIA+, people of color and disabilities. With its success Nat’s had several clients on the face of Vogue and walking runways at every fashion week.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n said, the two beginning to walk down the path together, “Life’s been hectic. During the pandemic there were little to no gigs so I had no idea what to do.” Unfortunately being in the dance industry meant competitive opportunities with a maybe 10% success rate if lucky. Y/n’s last big break was dancing with Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande in their ‘Rain on Me’ music video. Y/n occasionally attended the Balls in New York, but hadn’t walked a category in ages.

She did have a following on social media, which bought in a reasonable amount of income. Over 100k on YoutTube and roughly 2 half a million on TikTok. Instagram had close to 3 million since it had been the primary platform in the 2010s and several of her dance videos went viral.

“I understand,” Nat nodded solemnly, “It was like that for me too. It’s nice the world is slowly going back to normal. Although,” she paused to chuckle, “the amount of damage control getting bookings back to their normal pace was probably the most stressful point in my career.”

“Has it been easier now?” They stopped at a little bench overlooking the lake, “I saw you were at fashion week.”

Nat instantly brightened. “Much better than before I will say. We’ve got a great wave of new clientele—I just landed this fella a cover with GQ so I’m pleased with that.” Y/n congratulated her before the agent changed the subject, “But enough about me, what about you?”

The woman scoffed, “Well my last big thing was the Lady Gaga music video—and that was going on three years now,” the thought made her frown. It wasn’t like her to go so long without a gig. “I auditioned for a spot on Beyoncé’s tour.”

“The Renaissance tour,” Nat nearly gagged. It was all anyone could talk about since tickets went on sale earlier that year. Nat managed to snag two for her and her boyfriend for the Los Angeles show. “And?”

“I’ll know in about a month or so if I book it.”

“You so got it,” Nat assured with a tap on her shoulder, “You’re one of the best dancers in the world. You danced with Madonna at the Super Bowl,” her gaze became pointed, “and toured with Rihanna. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Nat,” Y/n laughed, though deep down she felt the hope in her rise.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha leaned back against the bench and was about to comment when someone in the distance caught her eye. “Is that who I think it is?”

Peeking over her shoulder, Y/n suddenly straightened her posture upon seeing the blonde man grinning from ear to ear as they made eye contact. Jake Seresin certainly landed on the right side of the puberty coin. With his tan, muscular frame, gorgeous green eyes, blonde hair and smile that belonged on the cover of a magazine, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Ladies, fancy seeing you two here on this beautiful afternoon.”

A wave of butterflies simmered in Y/n’s tummy, a shy smile forming as he approached the bench. It’d been several years since the two saw each other despite being friends since childhood. “Jake,” she greeted, moving to accept his hug when he opened his arms. Natasha followed before the two sat back down, “It’s good to see you. Is your mom with you?”

Like Natasha and her family, Jake’s were part of the same circuit in terms of highly respected, sometimes influential people. His mother, a doctor, was a colleague of Y/n’s parents, and his late father was one of Texas’ Congressmen during the 2000-2010s. Jake’s only sibling, his sister Krista, was a young adult novelist with over ten publications.

Jake on the other hand was like Y/n: a professional dancer and known in the industry as a real life Ken Doll. He had a massive following online, choreographed music videos and tours—even went on tour with Bruno Mars, Justin Bieber, & Ariana Grande—and was a guest judge on ‘So You Think You Can Dance,”. During the pandemic a lot of his dance sequences went viral and became trends, Y/n even posted on to which he reposted with the caption, “you know I had to shine the spotlight on my favorite dance partner. Miss you Y/n/n.”

You can bet Y/n experienced internal fireworks.

There was no denying she had a crush on Jake growing up. The two were inseparable whenever their families stayed at the resort. They’d even make trips out to each other during winter break, eventually attended Juilliard at the same time, and collaborated early in their careers. Jake and Y/n used to sneak out of the country club when they were younger to dance on the dock while blasting music from the boom box they’d stolen from the lounge. They learned ballroom together, competing in competition without Y/n’s family having knowledge of it.

Unlike Y/n’s parents, Jake’s mom and dad approved of his career choice. Though skeptical in the beginning, they grew to be very supportive and attended his showcases at school, the concert he was performing in and kept up with what he was doing.

Because of their disapproval of her pursuing dance, Y/n believes their learning of Jake’s endeavors resulted in them no longer coming to the country club if he and his family were there. They also never asked about him or worked with his mother despite being in the same field. It’s like they blamed Jake for Y/n not becoming what they wanted her to be: a doctor or a lawyer.

“She and my sis are settling in,” he gestured down the path he came, where several cabins were located. “We just got in about an hour ago.”

“How long are you guys here for?” The question came from Nat, who threw a look at Y/n.

Jake didn’t notice, “a couple weeks. Needed a break from the world—and Mr. Collins asked me to help him with this showcase he’s putting together.” Y/n raised her brow.

“Showcase?”

“It’s more for the youngins,” Jake explained. “He asked if I could help teach some dance lessons for those interested.” Though it physically hurt not to react, Y/n somehow managed to remain neutral. Even putting a semi-fake smile.

How come Mr. Collins didn’t ask her?

“Stop it,” the voice in her head said, “it’s not a competition and you know Jake would never be upset if the roles were reversed.”

“Wow, Jake, that's great!” She was happy for him. And scolded herself mentally for the childish thought she had. Jake was an exceptional dancer and a great teacher. Y/n had watched some of his YouTube videos in passing and had no doubt he could get the job done.

“Say if you have the time I’d be happy to have you join in,” he flashes a smile that would have any girl weak in the knees. “I’d say you’re more of an expert in certain areas that I’m not really well acquainted with.” Warmth fills her chest.

“I’d love to. Thank you, Jake.”

The second he departed Natasha was on Y/n. “Girl, if you do not hop on that—.”

“Natasha!”

“What?” She whispers shouts after being hushed, “you’re into him, he’s so into you,” Y/n’s expression is that of, ‘You’re delusional’. “Skip the previews and start the movie.” Now that was a metaphor Y/n had not heard before, but clever nonetheless.

“Jake and I have been friends for years,” Y/n brushed her off. “I am not going to risk ruining what we have because of some middle school crush.” The brunette rolls her eyes.

“But it’s not, ‘some middle school crush.’ You’ve had feelings for him for over decades now—which is a conversation for another day,” Y/n makes a sound of offense, but does not deny the woman. “It’s time to put on your big girl panties and get your man.”

She’s quiet for a moment, glancing to her feet, “What if it’s not meant to be. My family would never approve—.”

“Like you’ve let them dictate what you do in life.”

“My point is—,” Y/n cuts back, “I’ve already disappointed them with my career path. Call me naive or delusional, but I don’t want to have to deal with constantly being berated for my choice of partner. Jake is wonderful in every aspect, but what he does will just set my parents off again for another twenty years if by some miracle we start something up.”

Natasha sighs, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Sometimes you have to accept that parents are always going to have their opinions that are unchangeable. And you have to let go of the hope they’ll come around. Y/n, you’ve dealt with this since you were seventeen, maybe it’s time to distance yourself from it.”

“And if it all backfires and I end up alone?”

“You’ll never be alone,” she nudges her, “I’m here. And even if it all blows to hell, then at least you can say you tried.”

The next day Y/n found Jake at the little studio room the club used to teach waltz lessons. She was met with his gorgeous smile and an army of preteens in the middle of showing off who could do the best tik tok dance. “I see I’ve interrupted a very important matter.”

“None wanted to do the one I created,” he dramatically pouts, “saying it was too complicated.”

She laughed, “Well they’re not wrong.”

“Hey!”

For the next week, Y/n and Jake spent four hours a day--two in the morning and two in the afternoon--with the kids teaching them different styles of dance. Of course the crowd favored breakdancing, hip hop, modern, and vogue, but would request to watch Jake and Y/n perform routines they used to do back in the day. Swing was a popular one, as was quickstep and jive because of its upbeat and face paced. One day Jake busted out his tap dancing skills while Y/n displayed some ballet.

“How can a person do that?” a kid commented as she stood on revelé. Jake leaned down, whispering, “she’s secretly an alien from another planet.”

“C’mon I wanna show you something,” Jake grabs her hand one night after dinner. He leads her to a cabin not too far from the main resort where members of the staff have started a party. On the speakers were some 2000s hits that summed up the millennial crowd. Jake waved to some of the guys who ran group activities in the corner, Y/n spotted the culinary department at the food table. And if she were to glance at the door on the opposite end of the cabin, she’d see the housekeeping passing around an object containing a certain plant.

“What’s this?”

“The only place where the workers get to catch a break after spending all day with those uptight rich folks. They call it ‘Dirty Dancing’,” Y/n’s expression becomes amused, letting out a soft laugh.

“Like the 80s movie with Patrick Swayze?” Jake beams.

“The one and only,” taking her hand once more, he leads her to the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

To say the two became the life of the party was an understatement. Jake spun Y/n to the sound of her laughter and Elvis ‘Jailhouse Rock’. Jumping up and down with a crowd around them to Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything.”

“Tonight, I want all of you tonight,” They pointed to each other, “Give me everything tonight.” Y/n pointed to the girl beside her, “For all we know we might not get tomorrow. Let’s do it tonight.” Jake fist pumped with some guys around him, “Don’t care what they say, or what games they play. Nothing is enough, ‘til they handle love.” people in the back shouted “let’s do it tonight.”

“I want you tonight, I want you to stay,” Jake gave Y/n a look, “I want you tonight,” she squealed upon him pulling her toward him, “Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey.” the entire house exploded into the chorus. Everyone having the time of their lives, it felt like a scene from a movie.

Y/n pulled girls into the middle during Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’ Then they carried the party when ‘Year 3000’ by the Jonas Brothers came on. “He said, ‘I've been to the year 3000. Not much has changed, but they lived underwater. And your great-great-great-granddaughter is doing fine!”

Some staff who happened to be part of the New York Ballscene recognized Y/n, leading to a vogue battle to commence. “This is what I wanna see!”

Let’s just say….that was the moment Jake knew he was in love.

“‘Cause we are living in a material world. And I am a material girl,” The next morning Y/n was rudely awoken by her ringtone. “Hello,” her groggy voice answered, hearing Jake on the opposite end sounding equally as tired.

“Are you busy this afternoon in between lessons?”

“Not that I know of. What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Collin,” his tone shifted to one she couldn’t decipher, “He’s asking if you and I would be interested in performing at the showcase.” Jolting from the bed, Y/n was fully awake.

“Come again.”

“You and me. Me and you,” Jake repeated, “we put on a little number for the finale.”

Fiddling with her pajama top, Y/n suddenly became nervous. The night before she was on Cloud 9 with the way Jake was looking at her. They danced the night away and those feelings she desperately tried to hide were slowly becoming difficult to keep down. “What did you have in mind?”

“Time of My Life, really?” The two were at the studio dressed in comfy attire they usually danced in. “Don’t you think that’s a little cliche.”

“I thought it was fitting,” the blonde rebutted. Jake suggested the two perform the iconic dance sequence at the end of the 80s classic. “What, you got something against it?”

She rolled her eyes, “Only that my parents blame my childhood obsession with it as the reason I didn’t follow their dreams for me.” Jake made a face.

“They’re still not over that?”

“Nope,” She popped the ‘p’. “In fact they still remind me every chance they get about it.”

Jake finished setting up the song loop, standing from his crouching position, “Well, let’s prove just how wrong they were when you blow their mind with your talent at the showcase.”

Between the giggles and constantly finding any moment to procrastinate, it was a miracle the two managed to choreograph a routine. It wasn’t an exact copy of the iconic dance Baby and Johnny performed, but they kept some elements in.

Including the lift.

“Jake, I don’t know about this,” Y/n shivered when her body hit the cold water, following him until their waists were submerged. The whole idea made her nervous. It was an intimidating maneuver.

Jake, however, did not show any sign of hesitation. “Worried I’d drop you?” he teased, “I thought you trusted me? We used to do this all the time as kids.”

“Exactly. I do trust you, but we’re not fifteen anymore. I’m not--,” he cut her off gently.

“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” his look was soft but serious at the same time. “You have nothing to worry about. And besides, we’re out here taking precautions instead of being in the studio where if something did go wrong, we’re not as likely to end up in the ER.”

Sighing, Y/n rubbed her eyes. “Fine, let’s just get this over with, before I drown in embarrassment..”

About two and half hours of non-stop repetition of Jake lifting Y/n in the air passed. Sometimes he purposely lost footing so they both planted into the freezing lake water and other times he genuinely faltered. “Jake!”

“I’m sorry!” Thankfully at least one out of every ten attempts were a success. By that we’re talking they were able to hold the position for more than four seconds. “Okay, we’re done for the day.”

As the sun started to set, Jake climbed onto the dock before pulling Y/n up. “Thanks,” she took the towel he handed her, immediately squeezing the excess water from her hair. “Well that was fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, grabbing his towel. “I think we made some great progress. We’ll go through the whole routine tomorrow and see what needs adjustments.” The showcase was in just over a week, meaning they were crunching down on time.

“Sounds like a plan.” Stars painted the sky, the two eventually sitting on the dock with their towels wrapped around them. Soft music played from Jake’s speaker.

“How’s it been for you?” Jake was the one to break the silence, “thinking about it, we haven’t really got the chance to catch up. New York still treating you well?”

“Oh uh,” Y/n swallowed, unsure of how to answer without sounding too pessimistic. “It’s been alright. I’ve been teaching for the last two years.”

“A teacher you say? Where at?”

“Frank Sinatra School of Arts.” Jake’s smile grew.

“That’s amazing!” Butterflies erupted at his praise. “I’m happy for you, Y/n, really. You’re inspiring the next generation.”

“Thanks,” she looked away, unable to keep eye contact when her heart was beating so fast. ‘Geez, why am I like this? He’s making me feel like I’m fourteen again.’ “I’ve enjoyed it. My students were amazing.” Jake raised a curious brow.

“Are you not teaching anymore?”

Y/n bit her lip, “well, I haven’t renewed my contract for the upcoming school year yet,” she paused before adding, “I’m waiting to find out if I got a spot on this tour I auditioned for.” Now Jake was super curious. Lots of artists were touring that summer. The Jonas Brothers, Big Time Rush, Kesha, SZA, and of course the much anticipated Era’s and Renaissance tours of Taylor Swift and Beyonce.

And Jake was going to be involved in one.

“Is it okay if I ask which one?” his tone had an underlying hint of excitement at the thought the two might work together. Traveling across the country in what would be one of the best experiences in their lives.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, “something tells me you have a secret, Jake Seresin. Would you like to share with the class what’s on your mind?”

Scratching his head, Jake answered, “I’m not really supposed to say…..but,” she held her breath, releasing with a low gasp, “I’ll be touring with Taylor Swift.”

“Wow,” the woman was speechless, breaking into a massive grin. “I-uh, wow, Jake that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he accepted her hug, not caring that their clothes were still damp. “I honestly didn’t believe I’d get it.” a playful slap landed on his arm.

“Please,” came her scoff, “You really thought Miss Americana herself would not see the talent in front of her?” Y/n mentally cheered in victory at the sight of his blush. “She’d be foolish to not have you as part of her time.”

“Okay okay,” he swatted her hands away with a chuckle. “Now answer my question.”

Once revealing who’s tour Y/n auditioned for, the two embarked on an hour long conversation about their careers and life. Jake mentioned how he had been in a relationship but it didn’t work out. Y/n vented on the ongoing emotional feud with her family--to which Jake told her, “It’s their loss for not seeing you the way the rest of the world does.”

Yeah, that made her melt.

By the end of the night there was a shift in the atmosphere. Both felt it, glancing away when they held eye contact longer than usually without a word passing by. They had suddenly become quiet, only the crickets singing through the trees.

“It’s getting late,” Y/n rushed out, moving to stand. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Jake mirrored her movements. “Same time.” Heading back to the cabins their families were staying at, they arrived at Y/n’s first.

Opening her mouth to say goodnight and avoid an awkward moment, Y/n’s words paused upon seeing Jake’s expression, “You look troubled.”

“I--,” he began before stopping, causing Y/n’s nerves to rise. “It’s nothing.”

The dancer wasn’t having it, “No, no no,” she playfully raised a hand, “you can’t leave me hanging like that, Jake. I thought we were friends.” Suddenly it became quiet again. Next thing Y/n knew was Jake softly grabbing her hand.

“You know I adore you right?”

Her heart skipped, “Not really, but I do now,” the light chuckle was obviously embedded with nerves. “I adore you too.”

“And we’ve been….rather close for a long time.”

“Yes,” the word trailed off her tongue, somehow managing to hold the eye contact Jake was giving her. She was practically pinned where she stood.

“I realize this isn’t the best time or way to say this,” his cheeks become rosy, “but I’ve really enjoyed these past couple weeks catching up and being able to dance again like we used to. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bring back some feelings I tried to ignore for fear it would ruin what we have.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what was happening, “Bring back?” Did the man she secretly longed for since they were teenagers want her too? After all this time? She nearly pinched herself.

Jake looked away, bringing his other hand to scratch his neck. “Yeah. Look, I understand if you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry for dropping this on you but after the party I felt like my world was finally on its axis. You…” he struggles finding the right words, “I can’t stop thinking about you and what we could be. You’re my best friend, Y/n. And I view you as someone I wanna dance with till we’re old and gray.”

“Jake,” his name was the softest it had ever been coming out of her mouth. Here was the moment she had been dreaming about. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

His reaction was immediate, “You--you feel the same?” The tone was that of disbelief and hope. Heart pounding beneath his skin.

Y/n cupped his face in her hands, grinning ear to ear, “There is no one else in this world I’d rather dance with than you, Jake. I’ve felt this way about you for as long as I can remember.”

Not wasting a second longer, Jake leaned down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Fireworks exploded between the two, the butterflies escaping their stomachs to swarm around them. Jake's lips were soft against hers, moving slowly as though to commit them to memory. When they pulled away, he kept his forehead against hers, “wow.”

She giggled, repeating, “wow.”

“Is this what Could 9 is supposed to feel like? Because I’m getting those vibes.”

Y/n threw her head back, laughing before covering her mouth when she remembered her family was asleep on the other side of the door, “You’re not the only one, hot shot. If this is what cloud 9 feels like then I never want to lose it.”

In the days following that magical night, the two continued their practice session. Perfecting the dance to where they didn’t even hear the music to be able to hit the steps right. When it came to the lift, however, Y/n was still worried of a disaster. Thankfully after several successful attempts at the studio she was able to let go of her doubt.

Plus she was tired of hearing Jake’s teasing.

Each night after parting ways that afternoon the two would meet up at the docks. Spending hours laying on the wood to watch the stars twinkle and talk about life. Then Jake would walk her back to the cabin, saying goodbye with a sweet kiss. With every minute they spent together, every dance, every kiss, both Jake and Y/n were falling more and more for each other.

One could go as far as to say it was love.

One could say they were having the time of their lives.

But of course what is life without a little drama? Y/n silently prayed drama would be avoided. Once in her life could things just be great? Without the everlying feeling of something going wrong?

Yeah, it was too good to be true.

“Jake!” a voice interrupted the peaceful morning, ripping the two apart from their kiss. They had gone for a jog together that morning around the lake, stopping at their usual spot of the docks before heading to the studio to practice for the night's event. Turning to the direction of the voice, Y/n’s eyes landed on a fiery redhead storming up the path. Her attention was on the man beside her, not hiding the obvious fact she was furious. “Who the hell is that?”

“Tatiana?” Jake’s tone was of shock and confusion. He let go of Y/n’s face he had been cradling, but kept a firm touch on her arm. “W-what are you--.”

“Is it so much to ask for you to answer your phone?” stopping in front of the two, her blazing hazel eyes locked on Y/n. “Who are you? And why the fuck were you making out with my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” she stammered, glacing at Jake who now looked pissed off. ‘He’s had a girlfriend this whole time?”

“I haven’t been your boyfriend since December, Tatiana,” he raised a pointed finger, casting a look to Y/n with pleading eyes that he was telling the truth. “We’ve been broken up for a while now.” he turned back to his ex, “You made that clear to me when you had me choose between the career I’ve spent decades building and you.”

There was anger in his tone, not pleased with her claims. Y/n didn’t know what to believe, all she could feel was a weight clamping down on her shoulder.

“Oh really,” removing her phone from her back pocket, Tatiana tapped the screen a few times before pushing it in Y/n’s face, “Does that seem like it to you.” Leaning forward, Y/n gulped at the sight of text messages indicating Jake and Tatianna had been in contact a few months prior. From the looks of it, Tatiana was hoping the two could pick up where they left off and Jake replying, ‘I’ll think about it,’ then it was silent until this past week where Tatiana sent texts asking when they could meet up. Jake, however, responded it wasn’t a good time and believed the two should stay friends.

“Y/n,” Jake started, glancing back between her and Tatiana, which only made her more perplexed. Unable to decipher what he was thinking. “Just please, wait right here.” He gently squeezed her arm, brushing their fingers together as he let go. Then before she could say anything, Y/n watched Jake gently escort Tatiana away from the docks. They went a good distance away to where Y/n was unable to hear the two. With Jake’s back to her, Y/n’s view was of the red head’s angry expression as she pushed her finger into Jake’s chest.

She saw him gently raise his hands, stepping away to escalate the situation. Y/n’s head spun, feeling a wave of nausea and the woman grabbed her water bottle from the ground. In a fast pace, Y/n stepped off the dock and onto the path leading back to the clubhouse. Once a distance away she broke out into a run, unaware if Jake saw her leave considering his back was to her. This was confirmed when she didn’t hear him call out for her.

Sprinting past the clubhouse, Y/n made a beeline for her cabin. Throwing the door open she moved past the living room not caring if anyone was there and straight to her bedroom where she locked the door behind her, pressing her back against it and sliding down to the floor to finally catch her breath.

Her water bottle had been drained, sweat coating her forehead and tears threatening to spill. Covering her mouth, Y/n refused to let the sob forming in her throat to release. There was no time to let her heartbreak. Not when the showcase was fast approaching.

The showcase.

“Fuck,” she sniffed, kicking off her shoes in the process. Of course it had to be that day all blows to hell. The perfect world she thought she finally obtained crashing down.

Of course she was being dramatic. Her life was shy from perfect, and this was another dent in the walls she tried to build.

She kept thinking of Jake. Willing herself to not jump to conclusions. He was clearly taken aback by Tatiana’s appearance. Even more when she called herself his girlfriend. Jake appeared rather offended by the accusation they were still together. Bottom line of the story: there was tension--especially animosity--between them, unfinished business if Y/n had to guess.

Whatever it was, she couldn’t bear to witness it. Right now she needs to think with a blank mind. And with Jake already spamming her phone, the solution for peace and quiet was to turn off her phone. Going as far as to power off her apple watch and not have music play while she showered.

The tears slowly cascaded while Y/n stood beneath the water. It was eerie with the silence, but it assisted with the clearing of her thoughts. Once clean Y/n dressed in comfy clothes and decided to nap for the remainder of the day. The morning had drained her, and until it came time to get ready for her dance with Jake--which she already dreaded--Y/n willed herself to sleep imagining what the day had been if his ex had never stepped foot on the docks.

“Need some help?” Y/n jumped, the hair clip falling from her hand. In the mirror she found Nat staring back at her with a sympathetic smile. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Thanks,” she picked up the clip, holding up for Nat, who took it in her hand and stood behind Y/n. Gathering her hair up, Nat styled it in a messy but pretty updo.

“You seem tense for someone so used to the spotlight by now.”

A frown appeared, “It’s always nerve racking going on stage in front of people no matter how long you’ve done it.” Nat wasn’t buying it.

“Wanna talk about it? I know it’s more than a few nerves rustling your feathers, Y/n.”

Biting her lip, the dancer shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be, Nat. Simple as that.” Sadness washed over her for the millionth time since that morning. She hasn’t seen Jake since, only replying to his several texts after a dozen unanswered calls to confirm she would still do the showcase.

Although part of her thought about backing out.

“What exactly happened?” Nat softly asked, moving to now help Y/n on her makeup. She was going for a simple look so she lightly concealed, blushed, highlighted and added some minimal eye makeup.

“Everything felt so amazing” she started, looking up as Nat dabbed the beauty blender under her eyes. “After we did the lift at the lake, we talked for hours on the dock and when he walked me back to the cabin….he told me how he felt about me,” Y/n could still feel the tingles on her lips, “and we kissed.”

Nat withheld squealing, knowing it was a bad moment considering it didn’t end the way she hoped for her best friend. Now she was conspiring on how to get payback on Jake. Filled with sudden disdain.

“The next few days went by--like I was walking on cloud 9. The way he looked at me, Nat,” Y/n connected their eyes, “It was magical.” Nat brushed powder onto her cheeks, followed by light blush and highlighter.

“And then what happened.”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, making her slouch, “Jake’s ex showed up this morning.” Nat’s hand froze, a second passing before continuing its movement. “They broke up last year, but I guess they were in the works of getting back together. Because she was very vocal about it--not shy of asking who the fuck I was and why was I with her boyfriend.”

“And what was Jake’s reaction?”

Y/n waited until after Nat finished sweeping a thin coat of eyeliner to answer, “He denied it--was very shocked when she showed up out of the blue. Said that she ended things because he refused to choose her over his career. Then she went on about how they were talking things out--that a few months ago he said he’d think about it.” Y/n thought back to the texts, “She showed me the messages from this week. He rejected her invite to meet up and said that they should remain friends. Then he pulled her aside to talk where I couldn’t hear. I sorta left after that.”

Nat grabbed the mascara, “You didn’t wait for him to explain?”

“Could you blame me?” Y/n rebutted, a little on the defense but not saying it in a mean tone. “I was dealing with a hundred emotions. Confusion, embarrassment, shame, sadness, anger. I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell. But the only thing I could do was shut down and walk away.”

Nat said nothing, spraying Y/n’s face with a setting mist before handing her the tube of her favorite lipstick.

“I know,” Y/n groans, “I should’ve stayed--to at least hear him out. But I didn’t want to face the humiliation if it were true.”

“And if it’s not true?” Nat suggested, “What if he was genuine and they really are done? Where does that leave you two?”

Blotting the color onto her lips, Y/n capped the tube and threw it into her makeup bag with a shug, “I don’t know, Nat. We’ll find out tonight I guess.” Taking one last glance in the mirror, she added, “That’s if he shows up--which I doubt he won’t. He wouldn’t want to let Collins down.” leaning back in the char, Y/n turns to her friend. “Thanks for the hair and makeup.”

Nat patted her shoulder, “anytime. You look beautiful. That dress was made for you.” Y/n bore a light pink dress with a flowy skirt and corset styled top. It was similar to the one Baby wore in Dirty Dancing, ironically enough, but unique in its own way. She paired it with simple dance shoes.

“Thank you, Nat.”

A thought suddenly came to the brunette, “Hey, did you ever hear back from that audition?”

There was no hiding her grin, Y/n looked like a child having just received a gift from Santa, “I got a call back. They’re having me fly to L.A. next week to dance for them again.” Nat jumped from her seat, squealing and pulling the woman into a hug.

“Ah that’s amazing! Congratulations--I’m so so happy for you!!”

“Thank you,” Nat’s happiness was contagious, making Y/n giggle as they swayed side to side. “I can’t believe I’m so close.”

“I knew you’d get it,” Nat maveled, playfully pinching Y/n’s side making her swat at her hand.

The happy moment was interrupted right on cue as Mr. Collins rushed in. “There you are!” He was frantic, clipboard in hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Have you seen Mr. Seresin?” Y/n’s heart dropped.

“No,” was her response, heat coating her skin. “I thought he was here already.” Collins took a peek at his watch, groaning in annoyance.

“You guys are the last ones so that gives me hope he’s just running late,” Motioning for Y/n to follow him, the man leads the two out of the makeshift dressing room. “You’ll wait by the end of the side stage while the other performers have their turn. Then I’ll announce--hopefully both of you--and we’ll call this showcase a success. Which by the way,” he spins around, stopping Y/n in her tracks, “Do you happen to have a backup plan by any chance if our friend decides to be a no-show?”

Y/n stuttered lightly, hands up in a ‘Not really?’ She goes, “I mean I can whip something up--Not to toot my own horn but I’m pretty good at what I do and will dance to any music you give me.”

“Fantastic,” Collins snaps his finger, “We’ll work with that.” Spinning back again, Collins high tails it to the stage, Y/n taking claim to a chair a few paces from the steps. She spotted Nat seated with her family, Y/n’s own folks at a table in the far back. Almost like they were hiding from the rest of the guests, causing her heart to sink further.

Collins opened the showcase with an animated greeting to the audience. After some announcements and thanks to staff and sponsors who helped put the showcase together, he introduced the first of 10 performers on the list. Nearly all were the teens and children Y/n taught with Jake, the woman standing from her chair to cheer them on. At the eighth performance she froze at the sight of the blonde man behind the curtain. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Y/n ducked back to her chair, peeking slightly to find him conversing with Collins.

‘Well looks like I’m not getting out of this one,’ she thought to herself.

When the second to last performer appeared, Y/n found Nat in the audience. The two shared a look, Nat able to see the unease seeping off Y/n, and throwing her thumbs up in hopes to relieve some of it. The (y/h/c) shook her head slightly, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless with a small smile.

Mr. Collins glides to the stage one final time, “And now,” a quick glance to his clipboard, then to the side of the stage opposite of Y/n, a smile curling on his lips. “We have a very special presentation from two people who were kind enough to help me put this whole shabang together,” raising a hand out he announces, “Please welcome the beautiful and ever so talented, here to bring you the time of your life, Jake Seresin and Y/n L/n!!”

There was a light applause from the adults overshadowed by the children, teens, staff members, and Natasha. Y/n’s parents were unreactive, glancing at her siblings wondering if they knew to which they received shrugs.

Still sitting in a chair just off the stage, not moving despite the lights flashing on her, Y/n’s head was down. The door was not far. She could easily make an escape. But she felt eyes on from those within view and felt trapped. To run now would be a lifetime of embarrassment and shame.

“C’mon, Y/n,” she scolded under her breath. “It’s just one dance.” "Then you can go back to New York and pray this whole thing never happened.”

As the thought left her mind, footsteps came toward her, and Y/n glanced up to find Jake, dressed in black slacks and buttoned down enough to make a girl weak in the knees, staring down at her with an expression that took her breath away. It was as though they were the only two in the room, much like in the studio. Everyone else simply disappeared. Leaving two people who danced around feelings for years only to come together at that very moment.

Whatever hostility Y/n had for Jake was gone. She saw the pure love in his eyes. Pleading with her to give him a chance.

Simply holding his hand out to her, Jake held her gaze and spoke clearly for everyone to hear, “Nobody puts Y/n in a corner.” Had her heart not been beating at 100 miles per second, Y/n would’ve laughed at the reference. Considering how fitting it was to their situation.

The beginning lyrics of the song echoed as Jake led her to the middle of the stage. Already igniting applause from the audience who recognized it. “Now I’ve had the time of my life.” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. Never once straying eye contact “No, I’ve never felt this way before.” Y/n dipped back, Jake keeping her from falling to the floor until she was upright, “Yes I swear, It’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

“‘Cause I’ve,” Jake came around to her left, Y/n bringing up a hand which his own followed the trail of her arm. She caressed the side of his face. His group of friends hooting and hollering, “had the time of my life. And I owe it all to you.” A gentle kiss was placed on her nose.

Cheers from their students erupted when Jake spun Y/n, bringing a smile to both their faces as they began their routine. “I’ve been waiting for so long. Now I’ve finally found someone to stand by me.” Natasha whistled from her seat, “Yeah!”

“We saw the writing on the wall. As we felt this magical fantasy.”

All through the dance Y/n never once stopped grinning. Jake’s aura, the nostalgia of the song, and the love she had for dance were contagious. “Now with passion in our eyes, there’s no way we could disguise it secretly.” Unbeknownst to the woman, her parents and siblings were watching in awe. Having been the first time they truly watched her perform. “So we take each other’s hands,” Jake spun her again, Y/n throwing her arms in the air, head swaying back and forth. “‘Cause we seem to understand the urgency.”

“Just remember,” the pace picked up. “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” Y/n was lifted, dress flowing as Jake twirled them in circles. The audience applauded with glee.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before.” The cheers heightened when the two pressed against each other, the sight very intimate. “Yes, I swear, it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Jake snuck a kiss to her cheek, moving away to leap off the stage. “Hey, baby!” Y/n tilted her head back in laughter, fingers on the hem of her dress skirt and swaying to the beat.

“With my body and soul, I want you more than you’ll ever know. So we’ll just let it go, don’t be afraid to lose control, no.” It was Jake’s moment to shine. He fed off the energy of the crowd, winking at his boys in the back hyping him up. Y/n caught Natasha’s thumbs up, the two sharing a silent victory. “Yes I know what’s on your mind. When you say, ‘Stay with me tonight’.”

“Stay with me. Just remember,” Jake danced up and down the aisle, “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” locking eyes, they gave each other a nod. “This could be love,” staff helped Y/n off the stage, the woman bolting toward Jake, “because--.” Squeezing every muscle in her body, Y/n exhaled in relief as she was successfully lifted in the air.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I’ve never felt this way before.” It was a spectacular scene around them with everyone jumping from their seats, in awe of what they were witnessing. “Yes, I swear (yes I swear), it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

Y/n giggled the whole way down, arms sliding over Jake’s shoulder who shared her happiness. “‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door,” Several people joined in the celebration. Spouses dancing together, children off beat but having the time of their life like the song called for. “‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Even Y/n’s parents managed to get on their feet.

Finally seeing their daughter for who she was.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, the first words spoken between the two. It made her heart skip, filled with an overwhelming surge of happiness.

“I feel like I’m on cloud 9,” the response had Jake chuckle, pulling her closer to him as he voiced, “me too, doll.”

They kept their gaze on one another, swaying chest to chest, the tune became softer, “Now I’ve had the time of my life. No I never felt this way before (never felt this way),” Jake’s hand caressed her cheek, Y/n leaning into it. “Yes, I swear, It’s the truth (It’s the truth),” the two leaned in at the same time, Bill Medley’s voice belting the final lyric of the bridge, “And I owe it all to you!”

The kiss set off a million fireworks. Just like it did the first time. They didn’t know if the cheers around them were intended for the two, but they didn’t stop the kiss to find out. Y/n’s hand covering Jake’s on her face, brushing her fingers over his knuckles, “I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before (never felt this way). Yes, I swear, it’s the truth (it’s the truth). And I owe it all to you.” Pulling away, Jake’s touch remained.

“Be my dance partner,” were his words, pushing through the ending chorus. ‘Be mine,’ “Forever.”

“‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door.”

Y/n brushed her lips against his. Uttering nothing more than a simple, “Yes.”

“‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you…”

…………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris @kmc1989

158 notes · View notes

grvyrd-drms · 7 months

Note

Any hcs for female Creepypastas?? 🫶

the girlies 💞💞💞

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A/N: i chose just a few off the top of my head, if you want specific characters don't be afraid to ask <3

characters: nina, sally, natalie, zero, nurse ann

CW: some of these are so angsty for no reason lmao sorry guys

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-nina 1000000000% bisexual you literally cannot change my mind at all. girls are too pretty to ignore and jeff. exists.

-i like to think that nina has slightly gotten over jeff, but not completely. its like that one ex that you just can't get out of your mind no matter how long ago it was. she's still obsessed with him but doesn't make it her whole personality (she is in fact a human being with her own thoughts and feelings).

-sally is afraid of men. people love to show her being friends with E. jack or toby or ben, but i guarantee she's still petrified of any and all males in her life.

-not to feed into the fanon family idea but all the girls of the manor 100% understand sally and let her linger in their rooms when she's upset or frightened. most of them haven't been treated right either.

-natalie is like that one cool older coworker thats incredibly intimidating but incredibly cool at the same time. you wanna be friends so bad and she's like a fucking rabid dog.

-but nat can braid hair like a fucking PRO. she'd NEVER admit it but she would kill for a classic girly sleepover where they all do each others hair and nails.

-every single crp girl is sickly jealous of 'normal' teen girls. they want the relationships. the high school experience. the makeup. the gossip. the boys. the girls. their first car, their first job, research colleges. go to football games, get fast food late at night with friends. first dates to the movies, sleepovers with friends, all nighters binging netflix, shopping at the mall. all of it. every single crp girl dreams of it all.

-kate is selectively mute. in the time that she's been a crp she's only spoken a handful of times. she's just in a constant state of stress and fear basically.

-zero is SO ANNOYING and SO LOUD. she's like ben on steroids. she needs to make her presence known and you WILL acknowledge her (this comes from a deep down fear of her being forgotten and left behind but we don't have time for all of that).

-nat practically lives on a steady diet of beef jerky, red bull, and doritos. she has the cravings of a teen boy and it's petrifying.

-nurse ann is a WOMAN LOVER. have you SEEN those boobs and thighs. those are FOR WOMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! duh!!!!

-kate does and will bite. toby has the battle scars to prove it.

-sally is such a brat and everyone fucking loves it lmao. she guilt trips and throws tantrums and she'll swear every other sentence just because it's all things she's picked up around the manor.

-nurse ann's voice is like melted caramel and velvet. that shit is smooth and silky and she literally could seduce anyone without even trying (me).

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god i love women

203 notes · View notes

iwanty0uu · 9 months

Text

a/n: y/n is black, whatever body type you prefer, and is about 20, she’s also in college and is a nurse in training so you know she gets money, and on top of that she’s a nail tech so she’s usually super busy. ~ keep that in mind !

Onyankopon was extremely toxic, no matter how many times he loved bombed you after arguments that he knew he had the wrong in, or fucked you until you forgave him, it was undeniable that he was toxic. It all started after a long day of work, the hospital bustling since it was the night before Halloween. People did stupid things all the time but man the shit you saw that night was just absurd, on top of that you had a nail appointment as soon as your shift ended, so there shouldn’t have been a surprise when you stumbled into your apartment complex forty five minutes past eleven with a pounding headache, and a desire for comfort from your boyfriend after the traumatic night you had.

press me

The soft sound of your light switch filled the empty apartment, a linen colored light illuminated the kitchen and living room, the purple crocs you kicked off flipped them selves over at the door. Throwing the keys on the counter and washing your hands, you couldn’t help but rest your head in them. You love your job, but its so tiring.. every day it feels like the world is moving at one hundred miles per hour and you cant catch up. Tears no longer threatened to spill, they were overflowing. You sobbed, headache worsening, heart aching from the stress and the pain, however your sobs drowned out the vibration from your phone which was forgotten after you took your shirt off, and threw it on your living room floor. A trail of scrubs were left behind leading to the bathroom, as you turned the shower on, not even waiting for the water to heat up and hopped in. Practically washing yourself in your tears, you placed your head on the wet wall next to you, going light headed from the steam, you felt drained.. so empty, and you needed a hug, so that’s what you decided to get. The water was stopped and the floor dampened after coming in contact with your wet feet, the robe you put on felt warm, it’s the closest thing to human touch that you’ve felt in a while, and the shower really did help you feel better. After a good cry, you decided to postmates some food and call your best friend Jayleen to see if she wanted to come over and watch some shows and eat and cry with you, but you were met with 28 missed calls from your boyfriend, and over 50 text messages. Great. You didn’t call him after work to tell him you got home late, and considering that he loved to make shit what it wasn’t, you know that he would have your ass in the morning, and honestly it was too much. He isn’t your father and he clocks your every move.

A sigh escaped your lips as you grabbed a cold bottle of water and let that problem wait for tomorrow and it’s own set of troubles. That was until three sudden thumps hit your door, making you jump, water bottle falling out of your hands. “The fuck banging on my shit so late” you complained cleaning up the mess as your headache settled back in. Clothes still on the floor, you opened the door to face with your “man”. The darkskin in an all black nike tech suit, and yeezy slides had his arms folded over his chest, hoodie up and durag on, only showing a portion of his head, but his dark and angry eyes met yours. You felt tears sting your eyes again, knowing that he was here to argue. “So you not finna let-“ you cut him off “Please don’t start Onyankopon. I’m so exhausted and I’ve had a terrible day at work. I understand I didn’t call you when I got home and that I missed your 28 calls but I was in the shower. Do you feel better about yourself now? I dont give two flying fucks if you’re here to accuse me of cheating again and I’m not boutta force you to believe me when you’re delusional lame ass love making shit up in your head. So stop wasting my fuckin time and leave me the fuck alone.You’re not here when you need to be so you can keep suckin your other hoes off. I could care less,nigga you’re bitch made.”

Your words strong, and it felt like a strong blow to Ony. Tears were running down your face as you practically begged him to stay out of your life, but he still pushed his way through your human barricade, and scanned your apartment. “The fuck your clothes on the floor for, you got other niggas in here?” he asked taking his hood off. You stood there looking at him, words couldn’t describe how much of an idiot this little boy really was. “Did this fucker not hear a word that I just said?” you asked yourself. Your head was hurting and stress was already taking a hold of you, since he didn’t understand english, you had to show him how serious you were about this. If he thought your words hurt, then he underestimated how strong your actual hands were. You landed a slap to his face which sent his airpod flying. It took everything in you not to Madea his ass with a pan of grits but seeing his reaction to your anger was price-less. “GET THE FUCK OUT.” You didnt have to yell for your voice to resemble your mother’s. Stern, sharp, and filled with anger. “You want me to fuck other niggas so I will. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” You said as he stood there, brows furrowed. He watched you grab the top part of your robe, holding them together for comfort as you pointed to the open door. Bonnet revealing the small knot that ties your silk head wrap together. You pushed your glasses up, narrowing your eyes at the bitch in front of you. Everyone in the complex probably heard the argument. No, most definitely heard the argument, your neighbor came out with a broom and was “sweeping the carpet” at one in the morning. Nosy ass.

Onyankopon’s POV:

It took everything in me to keep my laugh in at the sight of the girl. She looked like my mom while scolding me, but she love me too much to let me go for real. “Baby I’m sorry” I said trying to touch her, “Alright I’m done now” i said laughing but she backed away like she was afraid of me. She’s not deadass the fuck she won’t let me touch her for? Nah bro she really got me fucked up this time. “Stop acting like you not finna fuck and forgive me after.” I said sitting on a stool, leaning back on her island. Yea I have my days but she know how i am.. right? “Bitch don’t ‘baby’ me” she said staring me down, eyes still teary, but so soft. I know she still love me.. I mean this wasn’t even our worst argument so i don’t understand the problem. “Alright now you hit me and you got your point across, so let’s jus finish this like usual alright baby.” Putting my hands out for her to come to me, she stared and laughed. Laughed like i was wearing no clothes in the middle of the street. “Yo this wasn’t even a big deal for real so what’s your problem now ma?” I know how to get under her skin, even if she was for real, she would still be thinking about me and how much I get on her nerves. Shit, better than nothin.

“This dumb ass bitch bruh no Onyankopon. I want you out of my apartment, and out of my life” I felt her tug on my sweater and push me out of the front door. She cant be for real right?….

But it didnt strike him that you were for real this time until three days later. HE seen you posted up with his home boy Eren on instagram who always got on him for not treating you well enough. He always told Eren to stay out of his business, which he claimed to be you, but for the next couple weeks Eren would be everywhere but out of your apartment. He was so good at communicating and never forced his way into your life, you two were just friends, and you loved having someone to talk to about your past. However, it was too late for Ony, when he was fuckin his hoes, he never thought, when he was giving head, he didn’t think about how you would feel, but now that he was a free agent, all of it including loneliness would bite him in the ass. He refused to admit it, but you were the best he ever had, and he felt nothing but anger knowing that he would never be able to be in your life again.

THIS WAS TEWWWWW FUN TO WRITE I HOPE MY BOOKIES LOVE IT TOODLES! ~𝑙𝑒𝑙𝑒！

#attack on titan #black reader #black coded reader #fem reader #iwanty0uu #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #ony x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot

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carolmunson · 1 year

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wish i had a river (part two)

here it is, the part two i said i wouldn't write. if you missed it, here is the first part - wish i had a river this is very much an eddie munson fanfiction, it's mostly from his perspective and follows his story through his eyes and actions. 'you' are mentioned and seen in this fic, but for the most part, it's all eddie all the time. cw: minors dni, adult themes, some smut references. angst. hurt/comfort. lots of mentions of poverty/hunger, sleep deprivation, all around eddie having a bad time. cigarettes/mild drinking but nothing inherently like -- bad? idk. unpopular ship mentioned. i did NOT proof read this.

The alley behind Macy's was a safe haven. Cold, a blue black, poorly paved, with nothing but the dumpters of other stores and the rats to keep him company. Eddie nursed a cigarette on his third smoke break of the night, two bad customers away from a total nervous breakdown. His anxiety built higher every day, every rush, every icy road report -- more people yelling, more people stressed out, more car accidents he'd have to clean up. Wayne's been in an out of the doctor's office more often and it's looking like he might have to retire early. The cigarette loses it's flame and he curses under his breath when he goes to light it again, the nicotine soothing his lips and tongue with a slow steady burn.

You never got to decorate cookies together on his impromptu 'sick day', you hadn't returned any of his calls. Not that he thought he was off the hook or anything, but he did basically write you a fifty two page love letter. If he had the time he'd come by your apartment to apologize in person but at this point exhaustion had started to over stay it's welcome. He could barely make it to the pharmacy on his nights off to get Wayne's medication. The guys at the auto shop could tell something was starting to go very left, 'cause why was the youngest guy there the one who couldn't keep up anymore?

And Eddie really couldn't keep up anymore.

At least his commission in the shoe section was doubling daily.

The cold bites his cheeks while he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt on the dirty, uneven pavement and crushing out the flame with his work shoes. He rubs his eyes, heavy and swollen with lack of sleep, with scrubbed fingernail hands and sighs. Just another hour and he can go home, just another hour and it's not a closing shift, he can go home at seven like normal people with regular jobs.

He drops his coat off in the cubby area upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He inspects himelf, eyes half closing in disappointement while he does -- he looks like a shell of himself. He hadn't picked up his guitar in months, didn't turn the radio on anymore -- opting for silence since it was so rare for him to hear between Macy's, the shop, and Wayne's breathing machine at night.

He takes his hair down, shaking out the curls that had at least dried into waving perfection last night, and gives it a shake before putting it back up in a neat ponytail. His bangs sit on his forehead, a few strands framing his now gaunt face. He practices an awake smile in the mirror before he completely deflates -- one bad interaction, one rude look, one snap from a boss, and he'd lose it. The rawness sat in a lump in his throat, a grenade of tears ready to blow if the pin is even so much as nudged.

The door to the back rooms squeaks open on its hinges, revealing the never ending click of boots, heels, sneakers, and men's shoes on the sining tile of Macy's walkway floors. In the beginning, the scent of the perfume section across the way and the bright lights of jewelry used to be an assault on his senses -- but as Wayne says 'You can get used to anything.'

"You good, Ed?" he hears, and turns his head -- it's Angie. Angie is his favorite coworker because she makes the best and meanest jokes about people. If it wasn't for some nights closing with Angie he would've left this job a long time ago. He'd been keeled over in laughs with a duster in his hand so many times that it almost seemed wrong to abandon her there.

"Yeah," he furrows his brow at her, "Should I not be?"

"Some pretty boy's been looking for you," she says, nodding over to the boots section, "You got another business I don't know about?"

A grin stretches across her frosted red lipstick'd lips, crinkling her overlined and spider lashed eyes. She's what Eddie and the guys at Forest Hills would have called 'trailer park pretty' if she was thirty years younger.

"They would be so lucky, wouldn't they?" Ed smirks back, eyes following her nod and landing on a head of beautifully coiffed chestnut hair, "Harrington?"

Steve's eyes perk up like a golden retreiver, a winning smile spreading across his face with a flash of white teeth in it's wake, "Hey, Ed!"

Angie gasps when she realizes who it is, "Oh shit! Is this the guy that --"

"Shh, shut up Ange," Ed huffs, waving her off while Steve comes up to approach him.

"Hey dude, I was hoping you were here. I uh, got a pretty big collection to get tonight so I figured -- you know, I'd come say hi and ask for your help." It's frustrating how pleasant Steve is. How warm his demeanor radiates to others, his candor, the way that he stands. It's annoying that a denim button under a cozy green sweater looks good on him. It makes Eddie sick that he can pull off wire-rim glasses and still look his age, that he smells like spice but not in a cheap way. A twinge of fear shook in his chest when a seed of assumption planted itself in his head -- was this why you weren't answering his calls? Was Steve Harrington smothering you with Christmas spirit every night?

"Yeah, man, sure," Eddie responds like the world isn't sitting directly on his shoulders, which -- he observed -- were not nearly as broad as Steve's, "How can I help you?"

"I need like, four pairs of Moon Boots," he shrugs, "Guess they're in style again? My sister's and nieces want matching pairs so like -- two in a size 8 and then, if you have it, two in a size 4 kids?"

"What color? We have white, purple, black, some metallics," Eddie lists on his fingers, "Well, maybe not black -- those probably sold out already."

"You got silver? Pink, maybe?" Steve shrugs, "I'm just trying to get these wrapped by tomorrow."

Christmas Eve. Ed had almost forgotten.

"Let me see what we have and I'll bring it out," he offers. He wants to ask about you but it seems too obvious. You must have talked about the fight or about him in general, how else would Steve know he worked here? How else would he know to come looking for him.

Moments later, Ed comes out with four boxes, "I have two in silver and two in pink -- so it looks like your nieces will be matching and your sisters will be matching. Does that work?"

"Oh shit, that's perfect," Steve smiles the same winning smile. Eddie wonders for a moment what it feels like to smile genuinely, it's felt like years since he had. He guesses that when you're Steve Harrington, you must get to smile pretty often. Rich, girls love him, former captain of the basketball team, has a masters degree, painstakingly handsome -- no wonder you called him after your fight. Damn, he would too.

"Is that all?" Ed asks, reaching up to run a hand over the five o'clock shadow speckling his chin.

"No, actually, sorry. I need some like, work boots, if you sell those here -- is that okay?" Steve asks.

"Work boots like, how? Like construction?" he asks, "You're a teacher, Harrington."

"Yeah but my uh, my roommate -- he's not in construction but he's on a whole bunch of terrain for work -- desperately needs good shoes for that," he explains.

"What's he do?" Ed asks, guiding him over to the display of Timberlands and Doc Martens.

"He's a photojournalist -- he's all over the place," Steve answers, "He's worn his sneakers down to the sole and like, swears their okay --"

"Jonothan Byer's is your roommate?" Eddie asks, making the connection. He'd only known him from their photography class they shared in Eddie's second senior year, but he knew enough to know he went into journalism shortly after college.

"Yeah," Steve nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm," Eddie looks over the shoes and looks up at him, "If I can be honest -- he's gotta be quick on his feet, right? These are gonna be too heavy for him to be walking around in. You might just want to get him some higher quality running sneakers. There's a Foot Locker downstairs if you wanna check that out? A lot of our sneakers are sold out until next week."

"Hmm, shit," Steve clicks his tongue, "Well um -- could I maybe try a pair?"

"Of Docs?" Eddie asks with a laugh.

"Yeah, of Docs -- I can be hip and cool, too, Munson," Steve's faux defense is charming. Eddie wonders what else you find charming about him.

Part of it feels degrading, kneeling down in front of Steve, lacing and relacing each new and different pair of boots he tries on -- but at this point he's buying seven pairs of shoes and the commission alone will cover at least a month of groceries so he's not complaining.

"So you don't hate me, huh?" Eddie asks, slipping a lighter weight Timberland over one of Steve's argyle socks.

"Why would I hate you?" Steve cocks his head, amber eyes catching in the light.

"Oh, did she not talk about it?" Eddie flushes. Why would you talk about him? Your loser mechanic (maybe ex) boyfriend who works at the mall, and at the auto shop, and sometimes sells drugs.

"Your fight from last week?" Steve raises his brows, "Yeah, she talked to me about it. But I woudn't hate you for that."

Ed tightens the laces up his foot to his ankle with care, "Why not?"

"I mean, you're doing a lot right now," Steve shrugs, "I think it can be hard when you're teaching little ones, especially this time of year, to not get caught up in the magic -- you sort of popped her bubble. But y'know, it was sort of a reminder to her that not everyone has it so good."

"She didn't deserve me yelling at her like that, though," Eddie shakes his head, he can feel the threat of the grenade pin tugging on his heart strings. One false move. One shake. One nudge, and he'll blow.

"You're doing the best you can," Steve offers kindly. Eddie swallows hard, offering him a tight smile.

"Thanks. I'm trying, I'm--" he shakes out the tingle of a cry before tying up the laces, "I'm trying really hard."

By the time Steve checks out it's about 7:15 and Eddie wants nothing more than to go to bed. His back hurts, he's gotta make sure Wayne took his medication, he's gotta eat sleep for dinner for the third night in a row.

"Thanks so much," Steve beams, "This is great, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, no problem dude," Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face again, "Have a good holiday."

"You done for the night?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, just gotta y'know -- grab my shit and go," he shrugs.

"You wanna grab some dinner with me in the food court or something?" Steve asks, balancing the many shopping bags he'd collected this evening in his hands.

"I don't know, dude. I don't wanna keep you or anything," Eddie says. His stomach clenches at the word dinner, his body reacting like a dog who just heard the sentence 'you wanna go outside?'

"You're not keeping me," Steve assures, "C'mon, it's on me."

Before he knows it, Eddie's been corralled into a mall food court, sitting slumped over on the sticky table. He tunes out the shreiks of children, the tinny Christmas music playing in the background of the cocophany of noise that is the mall on December 23rd. His forehead sticks to the leather jacket over his forearm, only lifting it up when he hears the slap of a plastic tray being put down in front of him. He surveys the Burger King in front of him and huffs a laugh, it'd been a long time since he'd ventured into the food court. He almost forgot what fast food looked like after the past few months of thin ham sandwhiches or cold cans Spaghettio's.

"So why didn't you try to swoop in?" Ed asked, toying with a french fry before biting off the end, "When you went to her house the other night?"

He savors the oil and salt on his tongue, warm and crispy on the fry disolving in his mouth while he waits for a response.

"Swoop in?" Steve asks, shaking his head, "No, I wouldn't. We just -- we work together. She's my work friend."

"So you never thought about what the kids say?" Eddie challenges, still trying to keep it light hearted, "How the first grade teachers should get married?"

"Her classroom is across from mine and we make lesson plans together," he assures, "What the kids say is what the kids say. They're six, what do they know?"

"Whatever you say, Harrington," Eddie shrugs.

"Munson, seriously -- she's my friend. She's not my type," he offers. The way he says it stings Eddie, what's not his type about you? You're perfect. You're the best person he knows.

"The card thing though? That was cute. I'm gonna put that in my arsenal if I ever fuck up," Steve laughs. Eddie chest rattles when he realizes that Steve was still there for that. He never even knew your reaction.

Eddie clears his throat, "Did um -- did she like it?"

Steve nods with a lazy smile, "Yeah, she liked it."

"Did she say anything?" he asks hopefully.

"She cried," Steve answered, Eddie leans his head on his hands, "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear."

"I didn't wanna make her cry more," he explains, "I wanted to make her happy."

"They were happy tears," Steve encourages with a nod, "She knows you love her. She loves you, too."

"Then why isn't she answering my calls?" he asks, another fry passing his lips.

"I think she's hurt, a little embarrassed. You know how girls are, they never come right out and say it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Ketchup drips out onto the paper mat on the plastic tray with a wet plop, Eddie sighs.

"Did you end up getting anything for her for Christmas?"

"No I -- I can't afford it this year," Eddie rubs his eyes again, more swollen and aching than before. Heat beams through his cheeks in embarrassment, tinging pink and then red.

"Well I had an idea," he offers, "If you're up for it."

"Yeah, go for it Harrington. Shoot," he says, the enthusiasm was greatly lacking.

"Well her uh, her class room needs a lot of repairs and the custodial team isn't really equipped for that. The school'll either bare bones it for her or make her pay for it out of pocket if she asks," he starts, "And she told me you're really handy, y'know, working at the garage and all. So maybe you could take care of her class room this week while we're out for break. I can let you in and everything."

He mulls it over in his head, "That's a really good idea, actually. I could um, I could ask the guys at the shop if I could borrow some tools."

"And there's a bunch of wood palettes in the backrooms at Medvald's. Jon said he's happy to get them out of there for you," Steve says with a smile.

"Oh, so you already talked about this?" Eddie smirks.

"Well, yeah, kind of," he blushes, "I was asking around just to see if it was a plausible kind of thing."

"Definitely a plausible thing," he nods, taking a bite of his own cheese burger. He holds back the moan in his chest from eating something warm and mildly filling after such a long time, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Oh, Munson," Steve shoots him the 'okay' sign, "She'd lose her mind. All she does is complain about how nothing ever works and everything's falling apart. Doesn't even have new chalk."

"Chalk I can definitely handle," he laughs, "I think I can afford chalk."

He feels a moment of calm wash over him when the van rumbles to life in the parking garage. Finally heading home and going to sleep with a full belly, finally with a plan to make you happy, finally feeling like after the new year things can go back to normal. He flicks on the radio and doesn't even change the station when Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas' crackles through the speakers. He heard it 700 times today, happy to hear it for the 701st.

It was your new favorite song, after all.

Eddie woke up feeling slightly refreshed on Christmas Eve, the dull ache in his back mildly relieved. He fished into his pajama pants for his lighter, flicking it a few times before getting the fuse lit for his morning cigarette. He stood at the open door, bathrobe tied tight around him, and listened to the hum of Wayne's machine from the other end of trailer. The mug of black coffee in his hands had the bitterness cut by the soft sweetness of cinnamon -- that's what you always did this time of year.

'I like making it a little festive for you, honey,' you'd giggle, 'Don't be such a Grinch.'

He wished he appreciated it more, all the little things you did to try to make him happy. The faces in fruit on his pancakes some mornings, making his old favorites for dinner at your place, 'build your own sundae' nights. Scratching his head, scalp massages, hand massages. You'd call them man-icures so he didn't feel weird about you doing his nails and softening his callouses. He didn't care that it was just a manicure with a stupid name, all he cared about was your cute face when you concentrated on his cuticles. He missed your laugh, the way you tap your pen out to your favorite songs when you're grading papers or writing lesson plans, your elaborate schemes to make learning subtraction more fun. The way you're kind to everyone, all the time, constantly. When he first started taking you out he'd get embarrassed by how forward you were with people, how you'd make small talk with cashiers, or grab someone's hand to tell them their nails looked beautiful.

Maybe in a lot of ways, he wished he was more like you to start.

He took a shower and slipped on his coveralls, opting to be one of two guys in the shop today. Him and George. It was George's garage, and for the past six years, Eddie had always volunteered to be the emergency mechanic on deck on Christmas Eve. He got paid time and a half and never had to wait for the check, he'd always get paid at the end of the day.

He laces his boots before trudging down the hall to wake Wayne, taking off his machine and flipping the switch.

"I'm headed out," he whispers, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne groans when he sits up on the rickety mattress, "I have a new perscription, not sure if the pharmacy'll be open but would you be able to pick it up on the way back. They called last night but I couldn't make it to the phone, it's ready I think."

"Yeah, I'll grab it on my lunch break Wayne," he softens the more he looks at him, "Have some coffee already to go for you on the table, there's a couple eggs left for you too."

"Thank ya, son," his voice is grizzly, but it still feels like home.

Eddie shivers his way into the shop, George in the office organizing some files. The day was always slow, but there were some cars still in need of fixing so he got right to work.

"Hey George," he calls, knocking on the door.

"Hey kid," he calls back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, round six," he laughs back. He goes back to the break room and drops off his coat and his back pack. Normally he'd have you to look forward to later with a plate of cookies from your family's Christmas Eve party and some left overs expertly packed. You'd drive an hour and a half to bring it down to him and then an hour and a half back to spend Christmas with your family. But not before he gave you a present, or multiple presents, in the break room when George went out to get a six pack.

"Ed," he calls again, "C'mere when you're done dropping your shit."

Eddie heads over to the office, leaning on the door frame, "'Sup bossman?"

"Someone left a message for ya on the answering machine, think it's the pharmacy," he said, "Ya might wanna give 'em a call, s'probably for your uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I think his prescription's ready," he nodded, "Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, by all means," he said, pushing it toward him, "Want me to give you a minute?"

Ed shakes his head no, "It's fine, just a quick call." He's got the number memorized by heart at this point, clicking the numbers on the grease stained white plastic buttons while barely looking at the machine.

"Hawkins Pharmacy, this is Debbie," Eddie smiles because he knows Debbie. He likes Debbie a lot.

"Hi Deb, it's Eddie, Eddie Munson," he says, "Calling for my uncle, looks like you called my work. I was gonna come by and pick up his meds on my break, will you guys be open?"

"Oh um, about his prescription Ed..." she starts, and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. The clip in the grenade buried in his chest jiggles slightly, he takes in a breath through his nose.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice his short and curt.

"Well, he changed his insurance recently, as you know and -- well there's a lapse in his coverage right now. His new plan doesn't activate until the first," she expains.

"Okay, and what does that mean?" he says, his palms sweat onto the cool plastic of the phone, his ear sticks to the receiver.

"Basically," she says, and then sighs, "His current insurance can't cover it and neither can is upcoming insurance, so the prescription has to be paid out of pocket."

"Um -- uh, fuck -- okay," he says, a chill courses through him, tightening his veins. The pin jiggles again, "H-how much?"

"For the month?" she asks, "For this prescription it's, hold on, let me check...it's looking like it'll come out to around..." she takes a breath of defeat.

"Around three hundred dollars, Ed," she says softly.

"Three hundred..." he repeats back quietly, "Is there like, is there a cheaper version cause he like..."

His voice cracks, the pin rattles dangerously while his eyes start to sting with oncoming tears, "He really needs these pills, Debbie."

"This is the cheapest option," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

"I'll um, I'll figure it out," he shakes his head, "I'll come by and I'll figure it out. Thanks uh, thanks for letting me know Deb."

He doesn't wait to hear her response before he hangs up the phone, quickly leaving the office to go back to the break room. He sniffles in big shuddering breaths, sweat dripping down his back despite the lack of heat in the garage.

"Kid," George says softly, following behind him, "Hey, Munson. What's goin' on?"

He feels George's big hand on his shoulder, the soft squeeze on the muscle under his skin.

"I can't afford my uncle's medication," he says, the pin jiggles, "I mean I can, but like, if I get his medication I'll be late in paying the gas bill, but if they turn the gas off there goes our heat. Or I can delay the electric bill but if they turn the lights out he can't use his machine at night. So maybe I could like, go out tonight after this and shovel some driveways in the rich neighborhoods or -- I could -- I could --"

The pin falls.

He breaks.

He breaks hard.

Eddie's cries turn to wails, his body shaking with hunger and exhaustion and the unbearable heaviness of having to be himself. The tears pour in droves down his face while he tries to catch up with them, trying to find the words to explain to George that he's okay, he'll figure it out.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay, it's okay," George soothes, his aged face crumpling while he watches Eddie break down in front of him. He pulls him in tight, a hand plopping ontop on his mess of curls.

"Why don't you tell me what's been goin' on? You haven't been yourself for months," he says softly, "Talk to me."

George smells like Old Spice and Newports, it's a scent that's always made him feel safe. Like having a second dad -- well, a third dad, if you count his real dad. He never counts his real dad, though.

Eddie sits down at the table while George takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and places them down in front of them. He cracks them open and settles down, two sets of brown eyes meeting each other.

He begins.

"Well if Wayne was sick why didn't you tell me?" George exclaims, "I've known Wayne longer than you've lived in Hawkins, boy. I would've helped you figure somethin' out. Taking shifts at Macy's? At Christmas time? No wonder you're so exhausted."

"I mean, I'm young. I can do it," Eddie shrugs.

"Those bags under your eyes say you can't," he says matter of factly, "And y'know you shouldn't have to. You're -- damn you're a kid."

"I'm like, inching towards thirty George," he laughs.

"And what about your little girlfriend? She not helping?"

"That's..." he sighs, "That's a whole other mess."

Eddie rehashes the story he told Wayne last week and then Steve's visit from yesterday, "So today I was gonna ask if I could borrow some tools and go in tomorrow or something to fix everything up. But now I gotta figure out how I'm gonna make an extra three hundred bucks for these meds."

"How about this," George starts, "You've been workin' for me a long time. You come early and you stay late. You cover for everyone. You know -- damn -- you know more about cars than I do and I've been runnin' this place for thirty years. How about you take this week off to work on your girl's classroom and I'll see you after the New Year."

"I can't. I need to work, George, I need the mo--"

"How about," he interjects, loud and stern, "You take the week off to work on your girl's classroom and get some rest, and I will pay you for the week. It's not like you're just sittin' on your ass."

"I can do that, that's not f--"

"If you say no again, I'm just gonna fire you. Is that what you want?" George challenges.

"No sir," Eddie quickly shakes his head and shuts his mouth.

"And," the older man continues, "I will cover the cost of Wayne's pills. I'll go pick them up at lunch for 'im and drop 'em off. 'Bout time I caught up with that geezer anyway."

The tears build back up in Eddie's eyes, his mouth lets out a sputtered version of a 'Thank you'.

"You gotta stop pretending like you have to do everything yourself," George's voice holds a fatherly fondness when he gets up and tosses their empty beers in the trash.

"C'mere, kid," he chuckles while Eddie tearily gets up out of the chair and back into the dad like embrace of his boss.

"You got ten minutes, but then we got some cars to fix."

Eddie didn't tell Wayne about the insurance lapse or the pills, even though he was surprised to see George at the trailer park that afternoon. Eddie went home with his tool belt from work, his time and a half, and a little extra that his boss insisted he take with him. Wished him luck on his repairs and that he'd see him on the 2nd.

He was warned that if he didn't rest, Wayne would tell him, and it would mean hell for him at the shop.

Eddie'd already been through hell, so he didn't really want to have to do it again.

Christmas morning came and Eddie woke Wayne up to a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

"Thanks, son," he said smoothly, pushing in his chair at the table in the kitchenette, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he wished back, tapping some cinnamon into each of their cups of coffee.

"What's that for?" he asks before a harrowing cough bubbles out of his chest. He takes a sip of coffee to ease the ache of the rattle in his throat.

"It's just festive, Wayne," he teases, "Don't be a Scrooge."

"Doing anything today?" Wayne asks, eyes casting up to look at the old pictures of a younger Eddie sat on Santa's lap. No longer a holiday where they stayed home and snuggled, where he played with his toys, where there was magic.

"Gonna go fix up my girl's classroom as a gift," he says, picking at his nails, "Thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"She hasn't called ya back, hm?"

Eddie shakes his head, already dressed in the Black Sabbath shirt you got him that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank you for. The chain you got repaired hung aroung his neck delicately, the pick hitting his chest in a gentle reminder that you're still here with him. You had to be. He'd know if you just decided to be done with him.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around he hopped in his van after Wayne fell asleep in the recliner. The perk of the holidays was that he could drive around in the rich neighborhoods and no one was out to give him and his car dirty looks. No one was around to be confused that Steve Harrington was hopping into his passengers seat to head to Melvald's. No one was around to be confused as to while they were loading wood from broken down pallets into the ample trunk space.

"Good holiday?" Eddie asks.

"Same holiday it always is," he shrugs, "My parents weren't around so I stayed home. Jonothan went to California with Joyce to go visit Will so he wouldn't have to pay to fly home."

"That's lonely," Eddie mutters, "Sorry dude."

"Don't be sorry, I'm used to it," he looks out the window. Steve looks well dressed for repairs -- a pair of worn in jeans, white on white Air Forces, an Izod half zip sweat shirt -- he might as well look like a father of three, "Have you heard from her at all?"

"No -- I left her a message on her answering machine, but I think she's already up with her family. I don't know what she told them so -- I don't want to bother her parents if they're upset with me," he explains.

"They'd never be upset with you," Steve shakes his head, "They're good people."

"I'm sure they wish on a star every night that she was with you, Harrington," he jokes.

"You'd think, right?" Steve laughs, "No, she told me how much they like you. They think you're so good to her -- you are so good to her."

Steve speaks about you with a fondness that makes Eddie wonder. He softens, looking over at him while he turns down the road to the elementary school, "Do um...do you wish it was you?"

"I already told you, man. I love her to death, but she's not my type," he laughs again, but there's a pain there.

"You keep saying that but like -- are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me it's not weird," he assures.

"She hasn't told you?" Steve asks, brows furrowing.

"Told me what? Did you guys used to fuck, or something?" Eddie asks, his heart hammering, "Did you fuck the other ni--"

"No, no, Ed I'm --" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm gay," he says quietly, "Like, Jonathan isn't my roommate he's -- he's my partner. I'm gay."

There's a silence there for a moment and Eddie shifts in his seat a red light. Oh, I'm such a fucking idiot. Of course that's why they aren't together. I thought maybe he had a weird dick or something.

"That's y'know," Ed shrugs, "That's cool with me, man. Like, silence equals death and all that."

"Oh, shut up man," Steve laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand up to stop him from talking, "Don't like, do that all shit. I'm just surprised she hadn't said anything."

"If you told her not to, she wont," Eddie's voice drops to something sweet, "She's a good girl like that. Great secret keeper. Great -- Oh, shit..."

When the boys pull into the lot, Eddie's surprised to see a couple more trucks sitting by with their lights on, doors opening at the sight of them. A gruff voice calls out from the dark, a light snow obscuring him and the name on his coverall.

"How long were you gonna keep us waiting here, kid? It's a holiday."

George's gruff voice cuts the silence, a couple of the guys from the shop chuckle in the background. Eddie smiles, a genuine, warm smile -- the kind he envied from a couple nights ago that he saw from Steve. These were people who cared about him, who wanted to help. This was, he guessed, was what Christmas was really about. This was what you were trying to tell him the whole time. His heart breaks all over again, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heart beat in the guitar pick hanging at his chest.

By the 27th, most of the repairs had been done. The help from the guys was beyond what he could've imagined. They were able to replace part of the roof that had water damage, fix the windows, repair a cracked pane, build a new bookcase, fix the wobble in all of the desks, and yours. Now, he was just adding a new coat of paint after spending the morning chipping off all the shards of it that were falling off. In his backpack was an overflow of new chalk, pens and pencils, markers, crayons, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glue. The guys went through their kids bookcases at home and donated a slew of new books for the room -- some duplicates, too.

He felt good. He'd gotten two nights of adequate sleep, heeding George's warning that he has to rest. He was able to buy a good crop of groceries and most of the guys from work came by to drop off so many Christmas cookies that Wayne was nervous he'd start losing his teeth too. Now, all he had to wait for was you. For you to come in on Friday and see his surprise when you dropped in for your professional development day with Steve. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave flowers or gingerbread men with the card but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he --

"Eddie?"

He jumped, nearly falling off the ladder he was on to reattach over head light that had rusted on the ceiling, "Jesus Christ!"

He clutched his chest, letting his heart rate settle down when at the bottom of the ladder, there you stood. His face blushed pink, pulse ping ponging through his wrists at the sight of you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, "This um...this was supposed to be a surprise."

"Who told you?" you asked, looking around, "About all my stuff?"

Eddie climbed down the ladder carefully, "Steve came to the store, told me that you needed some help. I figured y'know, if I couldn't get you a present I could just -- I could make you one."

"It's not done yet though, I still have to paint and put all your art supplies away," he explains, meeting you in the center of the room. He looks at you and then at the tears in your eyes, the heat rising in your cheeks. You don't say anything, his heart races in embarrassment. Maybe it wasn't enough, maybe you didn't like it. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself.

"And um, the guys from the shop, they uh, they brought books," he says, walking over to the new bookcase, "And I uh, I built this, like, with my hands."

He painted it to match the rest of the decor, a fun bright color that would hopefully draw the kids in to read. You'd mentioned that the got bored with the same ten books and weren't sharing well -- half of the books were falling apart since there wasn't anywhere to put them.

"And uh, I got you some new chalk -- white obviously, but I got you some multi-colored sets cause I know you like to do little sketches on the board during holidays and like, with spring comin' up maybe you could do little flowers or something?" he doesn't realize it, but he's gasping through his rambled sentences. Watching you walk toward him slowly.

"It's okay if you don't like it," he assures, "You can tell me and I can fix it I just wanted to--"

Your kiss feels like a spoonful of summer warmed honey on his cold lips. It trails down his throat and into his chest, down through his fingertips and his toes. He feels your soft hands cup his face, resting against his cold prickly cheeks. He's afraid to touch your face because you haven't given him a manicure yet this week. He doesn't want to scratch you with his rough hands, so he places them around you instead, frowning when you finally break away with a soft click.

"I just wanted to do something nice," he says against your lips.

"This is the best gift ever," you whisper quietly, a little sniffle stifling your cry, "It's very nice."

"Merry Christmas, baby," he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas," you wish between kisses.

He wakes up wrapped up in you, in your sheets, in your scent, peering at you while you sleep soundly next to him. You both had barely made it through the door of your apartment before you both had shed your clothes -- landing on the bed with a mutual 'oof!'

It had been so long since he'd been present. Savoring every soft moan out of your mouth, every shake of your thighs, everything whine, every clench, the way you'd rake your nails down his back, the way you'd pulse when he held your hand. You both laid there together after round one, eating cookies in bed (which you'd allowed just this once), while he told you everything. About how hard it had been taking two jobs, how he'd completely shut down, about Wayne's insurance lapse, about the guys at work, about Steve coming to Macy's, about how much he loved the gifts you got. About how he cried the night he yelled at you but was too afraid to face you after because he felt so awful. He listened when you told him that you just needed some time, but that you felt awful that you weren't there when he needed you.

"Need you all the time," he mumbled between heated kisses, "Never lettin' you outta my sight."

His eyes rolled and his toes curled when you took him in your mouth, letting you take the lead. He gasped and writhed, whining for more when your tongue swirled and sucked, showing him how much you missed him. How you'll always take care of him -- and he made sure to show you how he'll take care of you back.

Round three was long and drawn out, slow and sensual, close and quiet -- your boom box playing low static by the end.

Your eyes opened, stretching out when you see him sitting up in bed.

"You heading out?" you yawn.

"No, baby," he smiles down at you before laying back down, losing himself under the covers with you again, "I have the week off, so I'm intending to spend every moment I'm not with Wayne, in this bed, with you."

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