#flood city fest

[paracunt]

Paramore at Austin City Limits by Daniel Cavazos for Flood Magazine (2022)

#paramore #tour 2022 #flood magazine #hayley williams #austin city limits #acl festival #acl fest #daniel cavazos

[kitten4sannie]

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with Choi San, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I–”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2023.

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[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Luxe Couture Vignette

"My orders are absolute"

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Announcer: The curtain rises on this year's Fairest City's International Film Festival. And today... Please take a gander around me!

Announcer: Queen's Palace is completely flooded with the press and movie fans. Enthusiasm is in full force!

Announcer: With so many filmmakers and actors present, this is the event of the season. Let's chat with a few of them.

Announcer: Hello! Which production are you most excited to see during this film fest?

Movie Fan A: WELL, OF COURSE, THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!!

Movie Fan A: Ever since I was a kid, I've always loved the animated movie on the Fairest Queen and her spirit of tenacity.

Movie Fan A: I'm really looking forward to the live-action remake! Can't wait to see what other info they drop during the film fest.

Announcer: The anticipation is immense! Alright, next… Hey, you over there! And why have you come to Queen's Palace?

Movie Fan B: There's someone I really really need to see…! You know how there's going to be a screening for the Beautiful Queen?

Movie Fan B: I was hoping maybe, just maybe, my most beautiful bias would make a surprise appearance, so I came here!

Announcer: Oho, I see. And who is it you're such a fan of?

Movie Fans: LOOK, IT'S VIL SHOENHEIT!!

Movie Fan B: Yeah, my fave is Vil… HUH!?

Announcer: Everyone, please take a look! Vil Schoenheit has arrived here at Queen's Palace!!

Movie Fans: KYAAAAAAA, VIL-SAMAAAAA!!

Ace: Woah, this is crazy! There's so much screaming for Vil-senpai that I can feel it vibrating my whole body!!

Jamil: Don't lose focus. Our job here is to protect Vil-senpai from his enthused fans and the media.

Azul: Indeed. As recompense for these Luxe couture garments, we must put forth our labor as compensation.

Vil: That's right. [Yuu], Ace, Grim. I expect the three of you to properly carry out your roles as well.

[Yuu nods]

Ace: I mean, I've got on this Luxe couture fit on, so. I gotta make sure I keep lookin' cool, don't I?

Vil: Absolutely. I need you to look your best so you can be of the utmost use for me.

[click! snap!!]

Cameraman: It's Vil Schoenheit!! I gotta snap as many pictures as I can from all angles!

Vil: Hello, everyone, are you all enjoying this very special day?

Movie Fan B: KYAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAA!! I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO MEET YOUUUUU!!!!!

[Vil waves hand with a sparkle]

Movie Fan B: Ooahh, he waved at me! Now I can… die without regrets…

[faints with a thud]

Movie Fan C: PLEASE SPARE ME A GLANCE TOO, VIL-SAMA!

[Vil looks over with a sparkle]

Movie Fan C: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFEEEE!

[faints with a thud]

Azul: Amazing… Fans are dropping like flies just from meeting Vil-san's eyes…

Jamil: Even when we find erratic people in the crowd, they're instantly affected by Vil-senpai's beauty.

Ace: And this guy's just as stoic as ever even seeing the crowd act like this… Vil Schoenheit is way too incredible!

1. He's so enchanting… 2. I can't stop taking pictures…!

Vil: Don't be content just yet. We're just getting started.

Vil: We'll make sure that no one ever forgets my momentous walk down the tapis rouge.

Vil: Jamil, bring that to me.

Jamil: Of course, I have it right here.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit has stopped on the tapis rouge and has been handed a box.

Announcer: What could possibly be in the box? …It's an apple! Vil Schoenheit is now holding an apple!

[green smoke starts to surround Vil]

Announcer: Oh? And now he's surrounded by smoke… I can't see Vil Schoenheit at all.

Announcer: What is happening…? Huh!?

Vil: NOW, EVERYONE KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME, THE FAIREST ONE OF ALL!

Fans: WOOOOOOOOOOAH! / KYAAAAA!!!!

Announcer: B-B-B-Beautiful!!! He's so beautiful… More beautiful than I could possibly imagine!!!

Grim: That guy with the mic can't say nothin' other than beautiful anymore.

Ace: Haha, he's even stolen the announcer's vocab away. I'd expect nothing less from Vil-senpai.

Cameraman: Look at his spectacular attire, and his flawless posing…! This is out best chance to snag all the photos!!

[click! snap, snap!!]

Vil: Heh. Just as I expected, the reception is fantastic.

Azul: Indeed. Your design was a grand success. This was a fantastically gorgeous idea fit for this stage.

Vil: It's much too early to be complacent. All of you, make sure you follow me closely.

Jamil/Azul/Grim/Ace: Yes, sir! / Got it!

[Yuu nods]

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[Vil talking to others]

Ace: Hey, hey, [Yuu]! That person Vil-senpai is talking to right now…

1. They're definitely that one recently popular singer. 2. I feel like I've seen them on TV…

Ace: Right? Celebrities are chatting him up left and right… You can really feel just how much of a super celeb Vil-senpai really is.

Ace: Maybe we can slip into the convo at the right time! Think we could get an autograph!?

Grim: Oh hey, they're passin' out drinks over there! I'm gonna go get… Myah!?

[Vil grabs Grim]

Grim: Hey, don't grab me by the scruff!

Vil: Silence! Just because we made it safely inside the Queen's Palace does not mean you can do as you please.

Vil: You are to stay calm and refined, and carry yourself beautifully during the film festival as well. Or do you intend on humiliating me?

Azul: Quite right. The energy of these first years can be quite troublesome.

Vil: If you think so, I would rather you watch those little spudlings instead of passing out your business cards.

Vil: Especially while you tell them you're my schoolmate… Really, I give you an inch and you take a mile.

Jamil: I've confirmed our seating arrangements for the screening. The theater is just past here.

Vil: Wonderful. We should make our way there before the aisles get too crowded.

Grim: Movie's finally over. That was super long… Hey, why's everyone standin' up all a sudden?

[APPLAUSE]

Azul: Well, well… What a magnificent standing ovation.

Vil: The Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity was fully explored throughout the whole Beautiful Queen movie.

Vil: She was never complacent with the status quo, and spent her entire life attempting to improve herself further…

Vil: It's only natural to be deeply moved by how she pursued her life goals, especially as a performer, myself.

Jamil: I agree. It was a fantastic film. We should join the rest of the audience in applause.

[APPLAUSE]

Vil: Ah… The entire venue has nothing but praise for this film. A spectacular sight to behold. I'm sure Dad is just as elated right now.

Ace: The live-action Beautiful Queen movie rocked. Based on that showing, it'll definitely be a huge hit!

Azul: Well, the film fest has concluded… Vil-san, what are our plans afterward?

Vil: Our plans? Well, that would be…

Vil: We head home.

Ace/Grim/Azul: HUH!?

1. That sucks… 2. No way…

Jamil: It'll get dark soon. If we want to make tomorrow's classes, we should probably head back to campus soon.

Vil: That's right. The main role of a student is to learn. That's why even I have put my career on hold.

Vil: When I received my admissions letter from Night Raven College, I have to admit I did hesitate.

Vil: Was there even any reason to place my acting career on hold just to attend a school…? Or so I thought.

Vil: However, I'm sure that the knowledge, studying and experience that comes from school life will undoubtedly be a boon.

Vil: Once I decided that, I chose to reduce my work commitments and instead devote myself to my studies.

Vil: By spending my days simply being Vil Schoenheit and a member of the Pomefiore Dormitory...

Vil: My understanding of the Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity deepened, which in turn led to this successful promotion.

Vil: My daily life as a student has absolutely been a boon for my career, just as I expected it would be back before I enrolled… No, I suppose it would be correct to say even more than I had expected.

Vil: This little venture has proved to me that my decision had been the correct one.

Vil: And thus, I am also determined to spend the rest of the time I have left as a student to my fullest, with no regrets.

Ace: Vil-senpai…

Ace: Okay, you can say all that, but you do realize that this is probably the only time the rest of us get the chance to go to a film festival, right!?

Azul: Ace-san is completely correct. It would be an absolute pity to squander this opportunity to network with all these celebrities!

Vil: Oh, is that so. Then do as you please. That is, if you are willing to violate your contract.

Ace: Violate what contract? We played your lackeys already.

Azul: Actually… The conditions set by Vil-san were to "walk the red carpet"…

Azul: If he intends on walking the same path we took to get here, we must escort him during his return, as well…!

Vil: Correct. I see you fully understand the terms of your agreement.

Ace: Ehhhh～!? I thought we were only here for the grand entrance…

Vil: So I'll ask you one more time. I will be returning to campus, what will you do?

Ace/Azul: Return alongside you…

Jamil: Considering the role we were undertaking today, it's only natural.

Vil: Excellent. Then we should make haste to leave the venue.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[snap! snap snap snap!!]

Grim: Myah, the flashes are way too bright!!

Azul: I had anticipated the crowd would be more settled than when we had entered the venue...

Ace: Doesn't feel like they've petered out at all… And we even tried slipping out mid-fest.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit-san! Please elaborate on your promotion work for this event!

Newspaper Reporter: WE WOULD BE HONORED TO HEAR YOUR COMMENTS ON THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!

Cameraman: Vil-SAN!! LOOK THIS WAY!!

Jamil: The press are coming at us in full force…! Ace, Azul, hold them back!!

Ace/Azul: RIGHT!!

Vil: Now, now, how frantic everyone is. There's no need to worry, I won't run from you.

Vil: I will gladly answer your questions, at least until I finish walking the tapis rouge.

Newspaper Reporter: Whew, that draped train flutters so beautifully… …Ack! I shouldn't be standing around enraptured.

Newspaper Reporter: Ahem. Then, I'll start. How did it come to be that you would do this promotion?

Vil: Eric Venue personally requested me. Must mean no one was better suited for the promotion than I.

Magazine Reporter: Your whole outfit coordination today is so stunning! Can you tell us some highlights about this look?

Vil: I call this "Black of Night" ―

Vil: It came about by utilizing the iconic Luxe brand color that originates in the Fairest Queen legends.

Vil: Instead of accessorizing with magnificent jewelry, I simply used myself as the adornment…

Vil: Which allowed my beauty to be accentuated even further.

Announcer: SPECTACULAR! YOU ARE TRULY BEAUTIFUL!!

Announcer: Speaking of which… Your companions here all look fabulous as well. Are you all models as well?

Ace: Ooh, is that how we look? I mean, we all look pretty rad, can't fault you for thinking so～

Azul: I'm grateful that you thought to cast your eyes on me as well. Thank you so much for you kind words.

Jamil: Guess it's not too terrible to be thought of as one of Vil-senpai's colleagues.

Grim: Myahaha! This guy knows what they're talkin' about!

1. Wow, I can't believe we were mistaken for models!

Vil: Calm down… Don't get all riled up. Obviously, it's because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

2. I feel like I've never been noticed like this before…

Vil: Heh, you seem pretty composed. At least you can tell it's obviously because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

Vil: Although, I suppose if you are basking in my glow, it wouldn't be surprising for others to notice you lot as well.

Vil: These fellows aren't models, but are merely my dutiful manservants. And they obey every order I give them.

Vil: Isn't that right?

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: Yes, sir... Vil Schoenheit-sama.

Vil: …It seems the tapis rouge has come to an end. I'm sorry, but this is the end of the interview.

Vil: I do hope you all have a wonderful evening.

Announcer: Vil-san, please wait a moment!!

Newspaper Reporter: I still have another question for you…!

Vil: Here we go, boys. Get to work and secure a path!

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: YESSIR!!

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wheeew, we finally escaped. The press was pretty intense, but that was an ambush of fans!

Azul: Gasp, whew… Truly an ordeal…

Azul: With how Vil-san made such a grand appearance in front of the media like this despite recently taking a break from his acting work...

Azul: I can fully understand why anyone would want to take as many photos as possible in that scenario…

Vil: It's been sometime since I've had such an ardent reception. It's not something that I get to deal with while on Sage's Island.

Jamil: Good thing we were able to give them all the slip. It was a great plan to confirm possible back roads to escape to last night.

Ace: Is that what you were all doing!? I just thought you guys all snuck out of the hotel to have a bit of fun…

Vil: I don't think Azul or Jamil would let a single thing slip by them. You both have earned my praise just this once.

Vil: There were a few close calls, but… I would say you all just barely succeeded in the job I entrusted you with.

Azul: Your kind words fill me with joy. And once again… Thank you for allowing us to accompany you.

Vil: Of course. This was a fairly wonderful two days, was it not? Not only we were able to relax here in the Fairest City…

Vil: But we were also able to watch an early showing of the live-action Beautiful Queen.

Azul: Yes, indeed. The movie was utterly beautiful from start to finish… I could even feel the dedication in the tableware and cutlery chosen for the film.

Jamil: I understand the tenacious spirit of the Fairest Queen even better now. I feel like I need to put forth even more effort in my own life now.

Vil: Excellent thoughts.

Vil: Next. How about we hear the thoughts from the youngest spudlings here, who seem to be trying to avoid eye contact, hm?

Ace: It was super real-looking, and super fab, and the Fairest Queen was suuuper pretty… Basically, it was just super awesome all around!

1. I agree! 2. It was impressive!

Vil: Sigh, how appalling. How could you watch that masterpiece and only have such boring impressions?

Vil: It seems you still don't have a full understanding on the spirit of tenacity.

Vil: Once the movie is available to the public, you are to go watch it in theaters. Understand? My orders are absolute.

Vil: …And if the mood strikes, perhaps I'll join you.

Requested by @amourteddyst and @ordinaryanon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #twst vil #twst ace #twst azul #twst jamil #twst grim #twst yuu #twst translation #twst tapis rouge #mention: eric

[captainpoopweinersoldier]

An Acquired Taste | Jake x FReader

Synopsis: You bring Jake to Long Island's Oyster Fest

Tags: Voyeurism if you squint, with a light dash of angst; Alcohol consumption; Smoking

Words: 9.3K

And thank you to @ursulaismymiddlename who deals with my Jake fixation with nothing but grace.

Link to AO3

There’s not much of a fully formed memory left over from the previous night, except for the little inconsequential detail that it was meant to be an early one. 

It had been a typical Saturday evening shift. Fast-paced, stressful, and with the forever presence of snobby clientele. Though, in the restaurant's defense, most of the work week flowed with a similar rotation. But last night was the first Saturday in years you wouldn’t dare keep track of where the Sunday that followed was a day off, and apparently that translated to being amenable to the notion of getting fucked up.

That wasn’t the plan originally. Originally, you were meant to call it immediately after closing. You didn’t even dare to attempt partaking in shift drinks, simply vanished to the lockers to stuff any dirty laundry in a bag because dammit you’d get an early start to said day off and be able to freely partake in a chore and the event you had taken the day off for in the first place. 

That was until a certain bartender asked if you’d be going to Home Bar, and fuck if he didn’t have a face you could say no to. 

You’re sat next to him now, feeling like a teenager as the pair of you among a crowd of strangers get crammed onto a school bus headed for downtown Oyster Bay. 

“Is someone a little too hungover?” he murmurs into your ear. And maybe it’s not just the bus that makes you feel like an adolescent girl. The seats are too narrow, meant for literal children. And Jake is practically on top of you in the small space.

When you glance up at him, the rim of your sunglasses brush the sharp-edged jut of his cheek and, in your stupor, you try desperately not to stare at his lips. 

You grin reassuringly, even if the chatter surrounding you seems a little too loud at the moment. It’ll get better once you’re let outside and don’t have the odor of pervasive burning rubber and oil combined with the heady scent of him flooding your senses, you’re certain. “I’m fine, came and got you didn’t I?” 

He tilts his head back in appraisal, lips slightly parted as he considers his response. Unlike you, sunglasses don’t cover his eyes, so the striking blue hue of them is a perfect sea struck by sunlight anyone could drown in. 

“Good,” he settles on. Then somewhat reluctantly adds - “Because I uh -” there’s a huffing noise akin to a chuckle that hones your attention more than anything thus far. It’s sheepish, almost. “I’m actually. I’ve been looking. Forward -”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say anything.”

You bite your lip to temper the expression growing on your face. “Is - is Jake excited about something?” 

“No,” he says quickly. But his voice is soft, so soft in fact that you can barely hear it over the sliding doors of the bus slamming to a close and the engine revs, beginning its departure from the local train station. Jake shifts in the seat; consequentially pressing you closer to the window and his eyes dart around and he can deny all he wants but it’s weak and you don’t believe him in the slightest. You can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’d gotten out of the city. Away from the restaurant, or had maybe done something he truly enjoyed that goes against the fucking thick facade he dons daily.

But when his gaze seeks out yours once more, it’s almost like he can read your thoughts. Get the gist of your own excitement for him, the hangover actively taking a steady backseat to the fact that you’re treating him to something with such good effect. He visibly relaxes, eyes flitting about your face. 

“Don’t talk.” 

You’ll take that. Perfectly content with spending the ride watching the town pass by through the window with him comfortably pressed against you. A win’s a win.

~

It’s right in the middle of October, and as much as you love living in the city, one of the few things you actually miss about Long Island is witnessing the more flush change in season. Summer weather is a thing of the past, bleeding into the picturesque full bloom of autumn. What was green is now vibrant yellows and luscious reds. When it’s bright and sunny like today, the temperature is just warm enough that one doesn’t need a coat, and then fades into cozy crisp air under the blanket of night. 

IIt’s your favorite time of the year, and just so happens to coincide with Oyster Fest. 

The annual festival practically shuts down the entire town while thousands of people flock in attendance. Traffic is barely more than a halted complete stop, there isn’t a lick of parking for miles, and sidewalks brim with activity as bars, restaurants and shops all remain open for business, and the swarm only thickens once the bus deposits its passengers between a clearing of town parks and baseball fields located directly beside the Bay. 

To the immediate right are typical fair attractions; cheap fried foods and beer, a Ferris Wheel among other classic yet suspiciously rickety rides, including a Funhouse and the Zipper. Scattered snugly among them are grids of carnival game stations and - at this early hour of the afternoon - it is entirely overrun with families and groups of teenagers. 

But straight ahead lies the main attraction. Metal barricades form a path that leads the crowd, and you with Jake in tow, to the cleared out lots ahead. Except it’s not so clear now, quite the opposite. The heads of dozens of booths stick out atop the throngs of people. Each one ran, you know, by various vendors from all over the tri-state area, and each one selling anything from varieties of food, to homemade goods and trinkets. 

The layout is roughly the same as you remember and the medley of aromas make you salivate. Being hungover is a bygone thing and instead, your stomach growls with a not so subtle rumble thanks to opting against breakfast that morning. You pass a knowing look over your shoulder, eyeing Jake with interest, only to find delight in the way he surveys the landscape of food, drink, and the sparkling view of the Long Island Sound posing as a charming backdrop to it all.

“Oysters for days, but I’m assuming you want to hit that first?” 

The hint of a rare, genuine smile is nothing short of chuffed before he’s even looked at you, and when he does, it’s as he draws on a pair of shades.

“Desperately.” 

Maneuvering through the herd of people is no easy feat. It’s all high energy and excitement; even at a distance from across the lot, the voice of a miked up emcee booms from the main stage and an audience roars over an oyster eating or shucking competition. Queues are nearly indistinguishable as you pass through a section dedicated to gumbo and jambalaya, clam chowder and lobster bisque. You almost trip over a leashed dog and instinct makes you reach a hand out behind you, not wanting to get separated, and Jake takes it without question, letting you steer him ahead. 

The soft weight of it feels so natural tucked around yours that it barely becomes a distraction like it might’ve in any other circumstance. Not until you reach the tented area closest to the pier. There’s a swirling assembly line of people waiting to approach it like they would a ride in a theme park and you sidle in once a gap reveals itself. Only then do you fret over having to let his hand go because - well - you don’t particularly want to.

"Uh, hello?"

And just like that, the moment is over. Both of your heads simultaneously turn toward the sound of the annoyed voice and find a group of boys behind you. The one in front gestures vaguely, eyebrows raised as he huffs impatiently.

"There's like, a line going on here? You have to wait in line."

The snappy intrusion was annoying on its own, but now you're fucking hungry and mere moments away from delicious relief; you stiffen at the accusation with a flood of irritation.

"The fuck's it look like we're doing?" you snap back without hesitation. 

Jake snorts at your outburst, but otherwise it appears to be effective as the guy's body language seems to relax.

"Shit, alright. My bad."

You scoff and turn back around to catch up to the pace of the line ahead, and when you stop, Jake presses close enough to your backside that he can lean down to speak subtly along the rim of your ear. 

"You're either very confident, or you just totally cut the line without realizing."

"Hm?" His deep voice makes your skin tingle, a sensation you’ve well practiced to endure over time. "Wait. What?"

"I mean, I don't fuckin' mind. That was kind'a cute. I think you scared him."

"Are you serious-?" 

You chance a glance back, grateful for wearing sunglasses so that you can look around inconspicuously. And sure enough, the line continues much farther back than where you started. Significantly farther.

"Oh my god, I swear I had no idea-"

"Shhh.. Just keep walking," Jake's hands are on your shoulders with a gentle nudge forward, not remotely trying to contain his amusement while you flush with mortification. "We're committing now."

Indeed you are, but quite frankly - and yes, cutting is bad, it's rude, you'd tell anyone off for doing the same - it ultimately works out for the best and with very little regret because a moment later, you're blanketed by the shade of the expansive tent.

Beneath it lie rows of picnic tables, one after the other, and dozens of volunteers flit around in a blur of quick movements as oysters come piling in on trays by the (literal) boatful. They work in practiced motions, cleaning and shucking and plating the morsels, while others working the counters tend to visitors and shuffle around whole wads of cash. 

It's a five for five deal, and the operation is so speedy that before you know it, you've handed over a ten dollar bill and come away with two plates and a lemon slice each. There’s a condiment station just outside the tent’s perimeter, and while Jake walks past it - you know he prefers his oysters straight up - you stop for hot sauce and a dollop of horseradish, some napkins and a fork just in case. 

He meanwhile moseys over to a space out of the way of foot traffic over by the pier, making for quite the sight. And by it, you definitely don’t mean the water. Jake is dressed in his usual attire, a leather jacket and jeans combination. But today he surprised you with a button up-shirt printed with a variety of colors woven into wild patterns that somehow manages to actually work, and it’s up for debate if it’s because of the shirt itself or because it’s him. When you’d arrived at his apartment earlier, you’d done a triple take, unable to recall ever seeing him wear color at all - which of course was received with a smartass remark. 

But the sunlight reflected off the surface of the water casts Jake in a perfect halo as if he’s being showcased. Skin opalescent in its brightness, throat bare to the mild air as he tilts his head back and raises an oyster to his rosy-pink lips. 

You were fucked, but you save face as you approach, content to be happy with how he appears to be enjoying himself while he too balances two plates on one hand.

“They meet your exceptional standards?” you sass.

“Yes,” he states, simple and firm, and you finally take the pleasure of digging into your own. 

With the slice of lemon, you squeeze a healthy trickle of juice over the shells, poke a morsel with a fork to be sure it’s properly shucked, then pick the first one up. Your mouth is already watering by the time it reaches your lips and you knock it back with a gentle slurp. It greets you at once with a flavor both briny and sweet, mingling with the spicy tang of the hot sauce, lemon and horseradish, all wrapped up with a pleasantly refreshing chill that resonates deep within your gullet. 

“Better than the restaurant,” he continues; your mumbled agreement is unintelligible as you rush for seconds. “Better than the Cape, though?” You peer up at him suspiciously, slowly chewing around your next mouthful. He’s starting to reek of mischief and tilts his head in mocking consideration. “I don’t know, can’t make up my mind.” 

“Is someone sounding a little competitive?” 

Jake grins and you’re relieved his eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Of course not.”

“This is because of the clam chowder, isn’t it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, bound to have seen the booth.

You mull over a response and suck down another oyster. “I suppose a lobster roll is out of the question?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He suddenly steps closer; you need to crane your neck a little higher to look up at him, and then his hand closes the distance between you. His thumb grazes somewhere below the curve of your lip, swiping at some wayward remnant of lemon juice or briny moisture or who cares what, only to draw it back to his mouth where he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m still hungry.”

~

Not a single coherent thought graces your mind with its presence, and if possible he seems further delighted by this. He lights up with a smile before grabbing your hand, and it’s a struggle to find your footing and keep the rest of your oysters upright when he drags you along. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once some proper food is in your stomachs, it’s decided that splitting up is the best option to cover more ground. Oysters may flow constantly throughout the weekend, but historically it’s not unheard of for other vendors to sell out of supply before the day is over. And as the crowd only peaks as the afternoon goes on, Jake is surprisingly up to task and it is.. Nice.

When it comes to the restaurant, there is no doubt that with the long hours, post-shift late night outings, and occasionally the spaces in between, that those you work with consume the majority of your life. But Jake is.. Different. Admittedly, he’s an asshole, with a wickedly dry sense of humor and a passing dislike for the general public. Things you aren’t necessarily opposed to. Things that, admittedly, you have in common. You like him. He’s an actual friend. It just so happens that sometimes you want him a little bit more than that. 

It is a fact that you are more than content to deal with, even if today makes it more of a challenge. Today is more than the shared cigarette breaks and the moments of hiding out in the walk-in, and it feels a far cry still beyond those late night outings with the rest of the crew. This is proper fucking bonding and perhaps it would be less daunting if Jake didn’t appear to be enjoying it so fucking much.

You take turns holding a place in line while the other will wander off in search of something else, only to reconnect immediately after to split the reward, sharing quite literally, whether it be off the others’ plate or via an outstretched hand. The strategy sees you through to the aforementioned clam chowder (a satisfying win as Jake - who adamantly refused to approve of the creamy soup - wound up stealing the last ounce of it by snatching your wrist to guide the final spoonful toward his greedy mouth), grilled scallops and octopus, steamed mussels, and eventually a lobster roll.

At other times you merely stand aside and watch as Jake schmoozes with vendors. He asks questions with an uncharacteristic interest, oozing enough charm that they inevitably offer up a small sample of something to taste for free. 

The oyster tent remains a frequented spot. The queue has grown; has more than doubled in size since your initial stop, even as it manages to maintain the assembly line pace. Two pints of locally brewed beers are cradled close to your chest as you depart what’s considered the designated alcohol tent. It’s separated from the rest of the festival, an enormous setup that requires a stamp on the wrist to gain entry. Inside is cold beer on tap, a limited selection of Long Island wines, and a projector screen that will air this week’s Sunday night football. The crowd packed inside is far from small.

You bob and weave your way back to where Jake waits, ready to purchase another ten or so oysters (you both lost count after thirty), slipping through a thicket of people so dense that you focus on keeping the drinks upright, and don’t so much as notice the two young women chatting him up - until you’re just a few arms lengths away and come to an abrupt halt.

Well, fuck.

It’s being too used to seeing this type of scene play out that makes you check the time, a part of you wondering if Jake’s about to bail and disappear with the both of them. In your defense, it wouldn’t be the first time; his reputation precedes him and it certainly isn’t unearned. His ability to attract may sometimes seem beyond the point of his own control - you’ve often wondered if it comes with the territory of being a bartender - but he has never been above easily taking what’s thrown his way either.

Their appearances likely mean little to Jake, he’s nondiscriminating that way. But upon second glance, you are all too familiar with their type. One of them is a tall brunette, the other a softball-built-yet-petite blond. Both clad head to toe in yacht club gear: pleated shorts and polo shirts, brown leather boat shoes. Even their headbands practically match in bright elastic shades of pastel. 

They’re North Shore girls. And a guy like Jake tempts in the form of parental rebellion and a potential connect for drugs. Whatever reservations you briefly experience are brushed aside, and now there’s little hesitation as you sidle up beside him, interrupting their conversation with a light nudge against his elbow. 

“Your beer,” you announce, with eyes only for him. 

Jake looks down at you, head cocked with a knowing grin. There’s something soft there too, difficult to see through the sunglasses, but you can sense it nonetheless. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, voice a gentle rumble. He takes the beer and before you know it, his arm is wound across your shoulders and he leans in, ducking down until those rosy lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. 

There are few times you find yourself grateful for drunken mishaps of the past, and this split second happens to be one of them. For if you hadn’t kissed Jake prior to this, hadn’t felt the silk of his lips caught in a suspended moment of pleasure, perhaps the effect could melt you to your knees. As it stands, your lashes flutter across the tips of his cheeks. Without bidding, your mouth responds, drifting along the seam of his, and it’s lucky he moves with it even if it’s smugness you sense that drives him. 

For a second you almost manage to forget what’s brought this on, but then there’s that prickling sensation of being watched. By a pair of ogling stares, specifically. You force yourself apart from Jake and clear your throat, grateful your voice is stronger than you could’ve guessed as you survey his current company. “Making friends?”

The girls emit enough dismay at your arrival to stroke an ego, but not without a glare and a roll of their eyes. The brunette crosses her arms under her chest with a drawl of - “We were just talking,” while the blonde ignores you completely, focusing on Jake with an accusatory - “You didn’t mention -”

“My girlfriend,” Jake finishes smoothly, and you resist the urge to balk at him. “She’s showing me around her hometown.” 

“Close enough,” you retort dryly. Your actual hometown is out farther east, a little detail that matters to precisely no one at the moment. Apart from your arrival, your presence is barely acknowledged. The twin glares stay trained on Jake, put out and bitter as they half turn to catch up with the rest of the line. “Maybe we’ll see you around.” 

“That was salty,” you snark once they’re out of earshot. Though not quite out of sight, as you both trail slowly behind them. “I’m your girlfriend now?”

He doesn’t outright laugh, but from being nestled against him (his arm has stubbornly stayed in place), you can feel something close to it as he mulls it over.

 “Consider us even.”

You scoff and sputter immediately. “That was one time!” The time in question being at a disco, of all places. A creep had been harping on getting your number and then some. Everyone was too busy dancing to notice except for Jake who - thanks to his antisocial tendencies - was reliably stationed at the bar. He was more than welcoming to your advances, and the strange man left you alone after that. 

“Works pretty fuckin’ well though, huh?”

He’s not wrong, you admit, and relent a little at that. “Fine. I’ll allow it.” And if you feel emboldened by both the title of endearment and the public display of affection, well, you will simply refuse to look at it much more deeply than that… Even if, admittedly, your voice comes out a little flirty when you go on to add - “But if I’m your girlfriend, then that makes this a date and -”

Jake’s pained groan echoes inside his cup as he takes a long pull of beer. 

“And we’re at a festival which means you have to win me a prize at one of those shitty carnival games.” 

He stops short, forcing you to stop with him, and fixes you with a glare. It lasts a breath too long, but you stand your ground, refusing to give under the weight of it, when eventually -

“I fuckin’ rock at shitty carnival games.”

Your face splits with a grin, and a smirk tugs at his. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~

But before any games, there is one last stop that can’t be missed: a lobster dinner for a measly twenty bucks. No such deal would exist anywhere either on Long Island or back in the city, and anyone who deemed themselves a lobster lover would be foolish to pass up on the offer. One that likely wouldn’t last much longer this late in the day.

So when you manage to anxiously outlast the line, you’re grateful once you both walk away with a plate each in hand, and for the last iota of room in your belly that still has an appetite. 

The both of you assume a spot at a picnic table - few and far between, and shared with a trio of friends who occupy the opposite half - with Jake perched on top of it, and you sat on the bench beside his legs. In near silence now as you chow down as if eating hasn’t been the sole productivity of the day. The lobster is perfectly steamed, not dry, an error all too easy to make, and with a half-ear of corn and quarter-pound cup of melted butter as accompaniments.

There is a nagging thought, though. One you’ve been mulling over since parting ways with the two obvious up-to-no-good snobs. You peer up at Jake while you finish chewing, already moving on to cracking open a claw, having an inner debate on whether it’s worth it or not to bother mentioning. Jake is.. Well, private isn’t exactly the correct term. In the time you’ve known him, he can be almost too open with certain topics once you get him talking. But it’s rarely too personal, the deep down nitty gritty. And depending on what mood he’s in, he’ll either shut down completely, or bite your head off.

But the day so far has turned in a direction you hadn’t predicted. It’s gone better, much better than you could’ve hoped for when you first took the plunge in inviting him to come with. And in any case, his mood is as good as you’ve ever seen it. His fingers work the lobster tail apart, lips pursed in concentration, an oily sheen to them from the butter and eventually he pauses to take a few gulps of beer. 

He looks fucking gorgeous and you can’t stand it and fuck it -

“So,” you start, noncommittally at first. And you can only tell he’s listening by the raise of his brows. “I.. can’t help but notice that. Y’know.. You didn’t run off with those girls.” 

There’s little reaction to that. The upraised brows drop, he lets out a small huff before forking a couple of bites into his mouth. “You thought I was what - that I was gonna leave you here? Have a fuckin’ coke bender with them? Get laid?” 

“Oh, I knew it!” you snap a tad overzealous. “Sorry. I fucking knew they wanted drugs. Anyway.”

Jake snorts, unbothered by the outburst. “Yeah, I’ve seen the type. They fuck you for drugs, and then their frat sized boyfriends just happen to show up. Conveniently in time to kick the shit out’a you. Rob you, obviously. I like my asshole where it is, thanks.”

You hum around a mouthful of lobster. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

“Or maybe I just know a thing or two about a thing or two,” he sasses back. He takes a bite of his corn on the cob, an act that has no business being attractive and yet -

“People like that over there too, huh?” you ask out of curiosity, and he nods slowly.

“Starting to think this place isn’t too different from the Cape.” 

“Aw, I can see why you miss it so much...” Another thing you have in common; you both happen to share a resounding hatred for where you’re from. The sarcastic remark draws his attention, fixing you with a stare so amused you actually wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, simply to see the sharpness of his blue eyes. 

“And I, uh.. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He speaks slower now, enunciating his words as if it might almost pain him to admit, and eventually he looks away. “I’m actually - enjoying myself. With you. Today. And I don’t feel like pretending.” 

His phrasing sprouts about a dozen or so other questions at once, spurring sudden whiplash in your mind. Interest piques to the point you have to forcibly temper the urge to press him for more, likely to ruin the moment altogether. And in any case, more importantly, lies the admitted sentiment. It's, dare you say, heartwarming. Surprising. 

But you also know that if you acknowledge it aloud, he’ll tell you to fuck off. 

You smile at your plate instead. There’s just the one claw left now. It’s your favorite part, one you would normally savor, except you realize you’ve been slowly picking it apart with your fingers into little tiny unrecognizable pieces, distracted. 

“I wasn’t gonna let you wander off with them anyway. So.”

“Is that right,” Jake asks, and you glance up at him again just to find he casts down an unnaturally bright smile. He’s teasing you. “Feeling jealous?”

“Terribly,” you drawl, but the feigned glare hardly sticks once you can hear him chuckling. “No, I just - I guess I fucking hope that’s not your type, but either way I could tell exactly what they wanted from you. And I didn’t. Want that, I mean.”

“You were protecting me.” Jake muses, and a retort is ready at your teeth that he requires no such protection. But then the fleeting image of a certain tall blond floats to mind like an old bad dream, and you have to stomp it down before it can rise to the surface. Focus instead on quelling the angst that worries at your food. At the more pleasant low timbre of Jake’s voice, not quite done talking. You realize he’s in the middle of a thought you’ve missed the first half of only to catch the tail end. “So why haven’t we?”

“Haven’t what?” you ask cluelessly, in the midst of losing said stress to several healthy swigs of some Long Island pale ale. 

“Why haven’t we had sex?” 

It’s asked so casually, so passive and without hesitation that you choke mid-gulp. There’s a split second of panic, a flashing image of splattering beer all over yourself, and somehow you force yourself to swallow. Nothing more than a few dribbles pass the corners of your lips, and you smear them away with the back of a shaky hand. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you wheeze.

Jake doesn’t laugh at you, not out loud anyway. But there is a noticeable bounce to his shoulders. “Cool. If that’s the term you prefer. Why haven’t we fucked?” 

The glare you send him this time is real, even if it’s less impactful over the rim of your cup. You chug the rest of its contents to ease away the scratchy rasp in your throat. It’s not like you’ve never discussed sexual things with him before, being friends for a time and well - him being him, it’s sort of inevitable. It’s just never been directed toward you, or rather, the two of you together. To the point where on more than one occasion, you’ve been referred to as the girl he ‘skipped’. Equally frustrating and weirdly resonating inadequacy when you feel -

Nope. Not doing that. You slam the empty cup on the table and take the first normal, deep breath you’ve had in recent minutes.

“You’re not available,” you finally tell him.

“I’m not,” he says, clearly disagreeing. 

“Not in the way I need.”

He hums in consideration. “The way you need… That’s what - emotions? Romantic shit? How stimulating.” 

Also exactly the opposite of how he maneuvers through his own entanglements, and so begs the question how it could possibly pertain to you - if that really is something he’s contemplated before. You cock your head at him, absolutely mystified while he’s predictably nonplussed. He drops his plate next to your empty cup, bare to the bones, before gathering the collective trash, and climbs off the picnic table to toss it away. And when he returns, it’s with an outstretched hand, beckoning.

“Let’s go. We can’t leave until I win you something.”

The irony of the situation is not lost on you as you take it, and once again let him pull you along.

~

As it happens, Jake was not kidding when it came to being good at carnival games. 

It starts at the bottle toss booth, a simple enough concept that when he wins the first round on a single throw, you assume it’s a fluke. But then there’s the second round, and the third, and a fourth for (showing off) good measure - and each time without fail, Jake knocks out every bottle on the first throw. He moves on to balloon darts after that and to your (and the booth operator’s) astonishment, Jake is an image of poise, sipping his beer while popping any balloon he aims at. 

“What.. the fuck?” is all you can say as you watch in awe. Of course, you’ve done miserably; haven’t landed any darts, and you could barely even keep up with the bottle toss. But Jake simply looks pleased with himself, providing no explanation to this hidden corner of his personality. Instead, he peruses over the strung up stuffed animals that make up his winnings.

“Which one do you want?” he asks. When you have a hard time finding your voice to answer, he picks out an oversized teddy bear and shoves it into your arms. And for a moment, he doesn’t quite let go. He blinks down at you and you curse the removal of his sunglasses, something about concentration. The icy blue practically glitters beneath the multicolored flashing lights of festival attractions, and all you can do is stand there, dumbly transfixed. 

A slow smile overtakes him. “Next loser buys the drinks.” 

Another series of wins follow in quick succession. You take turns at a variety of shooter games which, lucky for you, requires slightly less skill. Jake may still get first place, but it’s you who shouts in triumph when you don’t come dead last in a water gun race. 

The classic ring toss is the only obstacle that gives him a challenge. A few dollars spent gets a large bucket of little discs that have technically been made to fit around the mouth of a liter sized bottle, but they never quite stick the landing. Jake insists the strategy is all in how it’s thrown, and though he has his own handful of misfires, eventually he smoothly tosses the rings like he would skipping rocks and lands several back to back. 

It’s impressive enough to warrant some cheers from onlookers; other players who are about as successful as you in their attempts. All the while, Jake’s gloating is a quiet kind; he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, and frankly you’re too astonished to mind.

“You’re like, amazing,” you tell him. 

He straightens immediately like he’s been pinched, and the rosy blemish that suddenly warms his cheeks is all the smug victory you need.

What started simply with just a teddy bear turns into a giraffe with cartoonishly wide plastic eyes. Then a big blue shark with felt teeth, and finally largest of all, a neon green snake with a frilly pink tongue. It's so long, it curls over Jake’s shoulders and still almost brushes the ground while he waits for you to return from the bathroom. 

It’s a sight you have to pause and photograph to memory; notoriously moody, scowling Jake wrangling cute stuffed animals in a chokehold while he smokes a cigarette. You try to keep from laughing but the alcohol in your system does nothing to help. You’re not completely toasted, no, but the buzz in your veins keeps your face flushed, and you cannot stop smiling as you make your way back to him.

The pair of you had lost complete track of time while the afternoon lost itself to twilight, and the Sound now reflects the glowing blues and purples of the sky. Nearby, the school buses are still on their rotation. Families climb on board with their children to depart for things like dinner. Most of the food vendors have closed out for the day, save for the typical carnival fare - soft pretzels, popcorn, corn dogs and such - but the Bay stays thrumming as the crowd shifts into the rowdiness of nightlife activities. 

Jake rolls his eyes when he catches you staring. “Having fun?” 

“Oh, yes,” you emphasize. “Not as much as you, though, huh?” The next bout of laughter becomes an oof! in a gust of air as he thrusts the stuffed animals at you so fast you have to keep from dropping them. Lastly is the snake, even though it suits him. He thoughtfully pulls your hair aside before tucking it around your neck. “S’that some sort’a Cape boy persona you keep locked up in hiding?” Hands full, you pucker your lips at him expectantly. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he admits. He holds the lit cigarette to your mouth and you gratefully pull a drag or two off of it. The tips of his fingers graze your lips, and his eyes flit toward the light touch. “I was.. Kind of a shithead kid back then. In a pack of other shitheads. We’d steal beer, get drunk off a forty. There was the county fair, or the harbor. Turns out I liked throwing things.” 

It’s a rare detail of his adolescence you’ve never heard before, and you’re cradling a stack of stuffed animals. 

“What about you?”

“I sucked.”

“Wasn’t gonna hold that against you. Makes me look better.”

“I, uh, I would try to find out how much funnel cake I could eat before riding the Zipper without throwing up.”

Jake hums with delight, brows almost disappearing into his hairline. “We could go try that right now.” 

“I did actually. Get thrown up on. By my friend. People could see it from the outside, it was - we don’t have to.” 

For the first time today, Jake laughs. It’s boisterous and at a higher pitch than one could expect, and you love it even if it’s caused by the image of you covered in vomit. It makes a small part of you not want the day to end; this pocket of time where it’s just you, and not the stifled air and bull shit drama of the restaurant. But there’s still the trek back to the city, a bus and a train to catch, and at the thought of it small ounce of dread fills your stomach because fuck -

The LIRR is packed. 

You should’ve predicted as much; it’s not only the Long Island residents that need to get home,  but it’s been a minute since you made such a commute, after an event no less, to have considered its capacity. The train has already left the station, streaks through the county with a steady rock and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights, by the time you manage to find a seat after an off-balance weave through train cars - a lone three seater among a sea of loud passengers.

There’s a large group of rowdy boys, college kids from the looks of it, clearly drunk and a fraction of whom are dressed in matching football jerseys. They shout back and forth at each other across the aisles and over the heads of the girls who sit among them. They make a show of snapping at them to quiet down to no avail; ultimately as uninhibited and shrill as the boys are. And music plays from an unknown source, overpowering the volume of the overhead speakers. There’s only one other quiet pair; two women who share a set of earbuds to watch a cellphone streaming from their laps.

Jake props his boot atop the armrest in front of him the moment you both sit down, a force of habit to prevent anyone else from sitting with you. He receives the odd dirty look from stragglers passing by looking for a seat, only to slouch and nestle into your side in petty retaliation. It’s oddly satisfying, like you can hold onto the illusion of being alone with him just a little longer. 

But they keep shuffling through, and a dirty look evolves into an ahem and an eyeroll, and someone even pauses a second too long, and Jake takes it a step further. You were content to feign ignorance, staring out the window while the exchanges played out, but suddenly he’s dragging your arm over his shoulders. He angles toward you, a warm hand slipping around the curve of your thigh, and then his mouth finds the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches as it tucks itself there, trailing feather light kisses along your skin. 

There’s an audible “Oh, whatever,” and receding footsteps and you can feel him smile into your pulse point.  

“Is that totally necessary?” 

“Mhm.” He withdraws but doesn’t go far. Merely tilts his head back, shifting within the circle of your arm until you’re perfectly level with each other. It’s intoxicatingly close; the tip of his straight nose a hair’s breadth away, his eyelashes a dark blur over his cheeks. You can smell him this close. The smokiness of cologne or body wash, and a hint perhaps of something sweet like shampoo. “I don’t wanna share. And your furry little friends weren’t doing the trick.”

“And kissing me was your call to action, huh?” 

He shrugs noncommittally. “Proved effective. Unless they happened to be into watching random strangers fool around. Not that I mind, but -”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” you ask dryly.

“I could be. Open to that.” He licks his lips and you gaze steadily back, trying (with futile effort) not to fluster as he smirks. Acutely aware of the hand on your thigh, how his thumb strokes absentmindedly along the inseam of your jeans, stoking something inside that’s growing harder to ignore. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

You scoff, momentarily relieved with the urge to laugh. “If this is about the damn disco again -”

“Actually I was thinking of that time in the walk-in.” 

“.. Ah, yeah. That.” As it turns out, mishaps of the past don’t exclusively refer to isolated incidents. You just refuse to dwell on those moments, knowing they’ll never amount to more than just having fun for Jake. Not that there’s anything wrong with that - your heart skips a beat from simply recalling the memory. But feelings.. Complicate things. 

You’re not going to dwell on that now, either, though. Not when there is little subtlety in the way you both inch closer together. Not when you can feel his breath on your lips. Jake’s head tilts, the bridge of his nose brushes along yours. Attraction thuds in your veins to the point that it’s a chore to find your own voice. “So, what you’re saying is, you’ve become one of my bad habits.”

He makes a noise of amusement, closing what minute space is left between you. “It doesn’t have to be bad.” 

“I said - tickets, please.” 

The conductor’s voice jolts you like being snapped out of a trance. It’s a rude awakening - both the intrusion itself, and the jarring transition back into reality. It’s no wonder neither of you heard the first request. Now an actual football is being lobbed around the train car. A chorus of voices sing along to the music blasting, competing with the echoes of multiple conversations occurring at once. Has it been this loud the whole time?

You disentangle from Jake who appears mostly unbothered but for the slightest of sulks as he reorients himself. He pats around his pockets until fishing out two train tickets from his jacket, then hands them over to the conductor. You watch the scene unfold, baffled. It’s quite possibly the most mundane fucking thing that could be happening right now. 

Once the conductor moves on to the next row, you coo sweetly at Jake. “Aw, hon, thanks again for the ticket.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, then reassumes the position as if the moment had been merely paused. He reaches for you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck, his thumb teasing along your earlobe, and even if it weren’t for the way his mouth seals seamlessly over yours, you’d still be melting instantly. 

You release a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering closed at the feel of him yielding as the kiss deepens. Jake’s lips part over yours and you open for him immediately, groaning helplessly when he licks into your mouth. The remnants of cheap beer and cigarettes evaporate into something entirely, pleasantly him. The headiness of his spit, the furl of his tongue. It’s dizzying, and arousing. Your surroundings fade back into white noise yet adrenaline surges through your limbs, leaving you to clutch at him desperately. Seeking purchase in the fabric of his shirt, a sleeve of his jacket, anything you can reach, and one can only assume he warms to the notion from the way his body gives.

He surges even further into you, pressing you as far back as you can go without meeting resistance, and just as you worry the twist of your spine to accommodate might grow tiresome, a series of long dragged out squeaks wheezes from the nondescript pile at your backside.

“Not quite the response I was looking for,” Jake murmurs between kisses.  “Gonna make me regret winning those for you, huh?”

“Not on your life,” you retort, voice a breathless thing. You gaze up at him, swallowing hard at the sight of him like this; pupils dilated, darkening the shade of his eyes with dramatic effect when the lights flicker again. You graze your fingertips over his lips, spit-slick and swollen, then smile and try to tease with - “Think I might just name one after you-”

The thought is abruptly cut short when his mouth descends upon yours once more. His thumb presses into the hinge of your jaw, tongue slipping greedily along yours the moment you part for him. Hungrier this time, as if each interruption only makes him more impatient. His hands quickly trade places; one cups the back of your head, keeping you stubbornly in place as he steals the air from your lungs. While the other threads down the scope of your torso, breezes over your hip and maneuvers beneath your legs and - the comfort is an instant relief when he pulls them over his lap. 

It gives him freer reign this way. You arch into his touch as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and he breaks the kiss with gasping breaths. Seeks reprieve in the curve of your jaw. Not remotely dwelling on the wanton display that anyone could simply look over the edge of their seat only to witness him finding the sensitive spot of your throat where his lips pucker and suck, the noises he makes shooting sparks of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“Jake,” you warn through clenched teeth. It’s not so much that you want him to stop - quite the opposite while you try to resist writhing over his lap. It just might make for a small problem while you’re on a fucking train. 

But he makes a disapproving sound, something like a huff in your ear, then sharply nips something fierce around your skin. You lurch despite your efforts, let slip a strangled moan. Then he soothes the mark with the heated drag of his tongue, and you’re melting all over again, whimpering as his breath raises goosebumps along the trail of saliva.

“Just like that.” His voice is breathy, muffled as he kisses his way back up the line of your jaw. “Is that what you like?” 

Fuck, you want him. Little thought is spared on anything but him as his hands never quite stop moving, from grazing your bare rib cage to grabbing your ass. Your needy fingertips card through the black mess of his hair, tearing him back to your mouth, and Jake fulfills. Kissing you hard and slow. Growing bolder as he feels you squirm for any semblance of relief. His touch slips down your belly, curls along the zipper of your jeans. And when his hand sinks between your thighs, the last fleeting, coherent thought you do have is that at least no one will be able to hear a single sound you make. 

~

A transfer at Jamaica and a subway ride later finally sees you back to familiar streets. It's well into the evening now, the cityscape lit up with its typical bright neon glow. It floods the sidewalks while you walk, milling through an altogether different type of crowd as you make way for the restaurant. 

It’s almost inevitable, winding up there every night. Regardless of the complaining, the more-often-than-not haughty guests, Howard managing with his quirks, the restaurant remains a single constant for most of the staff, and even on a rare day off, you still come crawling back to its doorstep. 

The sight of its stoop on the street corner, well lit beneath its overpriced lanterns, makes it almost seem like a typical Sunday. The main difference being that your arrival isn’t usually accompanied by an armful of stuffed animals. Nor do you make a habit of reporting to work while painfully horny. The walk has done you some good in that respect; it feels like you’ve been properly, thoroughly edged. 

The ride on the train took a turn you.. weren’t expecting - though it certainly made for a way to pass the time. It’s as if you can still feel Jake’s lips on yours, still taste a remnant of him. Like the very scent of him has buried itself somewhere deep inside your lungs. The aforementioned makeout sessions do not hold a candle to what has just occurred, as mostly over the clothes as it was. Voyeurism isn’t really your thing, and though you wouldn’t hold it past Jake to be up to task, it was the closest you’ve toed a line in that territory, and you feel - you feel. That cliche spark, that flutter in your chest as powerful as the ache of arousal in your belly.

It wasn’t just the kissing, either. It was the heavy petting, it was the talking in between. Telling Jake about your first broken bone, learning how he split his chin open skateboarding when he was a teenager - still has the scar that’s hidden by the usual scruff of his facial hair. You wonder if he feels it, too. Felt anything at all or if it was just having fun, which, to reaffirm to your current overthinking state of mind, is still okay. 

You chance a glance at him walking beside you, his own expression unreadable as ever as he smokes another cigarette. Just moments ago, his lips were kissed swollen. His pale skin heated with a flush that ran low beneath the collar of his shirt. And now, the only remnant left behind is the muss of his hair.

But the restaurant inches closer. Service is over by now. The both of you could walk inside, join those partaking in shift drinks, wind up at a bar later, then go your separate ways. Or you could.. ask for more. See if there is an ounce of weight to what he brought up earlier. His pace slows short of making it to the entrance, intent to finish his cigarette, and now is as good a time as any. 

“Hey, so -” you suddenly remember the stuffed animals cradled in your arm, and for the second time tonight feel a little foolish. But there’s still some liquid courage left in you yet. Some bolstered confidence from the days’ events. 

“So, I know we’ll probably go for drinks and whatnot, but later…” You’re stood between him and the building and Jake steps closer; whether to shield you both from passerby or impose with his body some more is unclear as his gazes sharpens, pinned on you while a plume of smoke cascades from his nostrils, and he raises a questioning brow. God, you are so fucking fucked but you’re smiling and shaking your head as you finish your thought. “Later, maybe you’d wanna come back to my place?” 

There’s the slightest lift to the corner of his lips. His head tilts back in appraisal.

“Okay.” 

You blink rapidly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” he enunciates with a little more gumption, appearing amused. Definitely imposing now as he moves even closer until you are nose to chest. “I’d like that. But, uh.. You should know.” He dips his head as if to kiss you again, and quite honestly, you’re not sure if you can remain standing if he does. “I’m unavailable.” 

A snort of laughter erupts from your throat, and even as he leans in, you can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they flutter closed and -

The front door of the restaurant bursts open and the moment is quickly lost to a series of recognizable voices: Ari, Sasha, Heather and Will. Scott with a few guys from the kitchen. All talking a mile a minute as they file down the stairs and swarm over the sidewalk. 

It’s Scott that notices you first. “Hey, look who finally decided to show up. Lookin’ like a bunch’a fuckin’ dorks.” He purposely knocks his shoulder into Jake’s as he strides past, tossing a vague gesture behind him. “C’mon, shitheads, I’m fuckin’ hungry!” 

“Ooh, what’s this?” Sasha tugs at the snake and drapes it around himself like a feathered boa before striking a pose. “I’m keeping this one.”

“No fuckin’ way!” you snap, just as Ari plucks the shark from your grasp.

“I thought you were going to an oyster festival,” she drawls, inspecting the toy. “Didn’t think that meant a carnival, too. I’m working my ass off all day..”

“Okay, just don’t drop them please? Jake won them for me.” You immediately regret your choice of words as they come to a complete halt. 

“Jake did what now?” Ari asks, her eyes - along with Sasha’s and Heather’s - flicker up at him in genuine shock. Will merely chuckles as he passes, trailing after Scott and the crew. 

Jake’s face stretches with a dry smile. “Fuck off, Ari.”

“Y’know for someone who doesn’t date, you’re awfully fucking good at it.” 

“Jake? Good at dating? Now that’s one I’ve never heard before.”

So occupied by the current company, you had taken no notice of Simone’s approach. She’s out of her stripes, donned in her well maintained image of class. An expensive knit sweater, pressed pants. Her signature red lipstick is freshly applied, and her long blond locks are left to cascade softly across her shoulders.

She looks you up and down as she draws near, taking in your appearance but not quite meeting your eye before looking coolly at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a date.” 

Her tone is coy enough, but not a single one of you is under the false impression that there isn’t more underlying to what she says. Sasha makes a comment under his breath and Heather quickly jabs an elbow into his side to quiet him.

“They’re just teasing, Simone.” You snatch the shark back from Ari, feeling annoyed. Like you’re being scolded by a school teacher when you haven’t done anything wrong. “It wasn’t a date, we just had -”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” she finishes for you, and when her gaze finally meets yours, it’s like this conversation has somehow escalated into a standoff, and each bystander lights up a cigarette during the tense pause. 

Eventually, Simone flicks her hair. “Impeccable timing, Jake... Walk me home?”

Fuck. You hate the way your stomach plummets at that.

You look up at him, clinging to some notion that he’ll deny her just this once, that he has felt something, that he wants to see the rest of the night through. That he wants - you.

But at the very moment you see his face, you know that’s not happening. For a second, he looks back at you, mouth hanging open around unspoken words. And when Simone calls his name again, you watch him shut down completely. 

“Sure,” he intones.

“Alright, c’mon babygirl.” Sasha grasps you by the arm in effort to tug you away. Follow after Will and Scott who’ve likely made it a couple of blocks down the road by now. 

You falter on the first step as if you’d been glued to the spot, stubbornly staring at Jake, trying desperately to swallow around the sting of disappointment and rejection so it’s not plain for him - or anyone else - to see.

You think you manage to tell Jake ‘goodnight’, but then your back is turned on him and you let Sasha steer you away with the girls.

The three of them link arms with you tucked somewhere in between. It’s apparent you’ve done well steeling yourself; there’s a bounce to their steps as they carry on as before, talking one over the other with no regard to whatever the fuck it was that just occurred. Onward to what you can only hope is a repeat of last night, with little left over to remember come morning.

#jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge #sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter x reader #my fic #no use of y/n

[masterwords]

Okay @hosseinis, so I went to edit this into a different story (becasue I had a better idea and I'm an impulsive little gremlin) and tumblr went wild and zapped the whole thing into non-existence. SO I started fresh. And even though this was written in 15 minutes and is SUPER rough, I think it's better than the first one.

I love me a good tear fest. Both, I choose both of them crying. Savory salty kisses coming right up! (~1100 words)

(Send me a kiss (or LOTS of them) and I'll write you some hotchgan!)

**

“How is Jack?” Hotch asked, giving only the slightest inclination of his chin, the quickest movement of his eyes to even indicate that he’d been the one who spoke. Derek stood over him, still in his vest, still with sleeves smeared with blood, frozen.

“He’s okay. Will came and picked him up, he’s taking the kids to the police station.”

Hotch hummed, a low gravel sound deep in his chest. He’d been sitting in the waiting room, curled up in the corner around a small cup of ice water for two hours. JJ dropped him off, intending to sit with him and wait but he said no. He wanted to be alone. The scene was processed, the gruesome scene that used to be his home and he still wasn’t finished here.

“Have you been seen yet? Do I need to go knock some skulls?”

“They’re busy,” Hotch rasped. “No rooms. A doctor came out to see me, he wants a chest x-ray. Soon.”

Derek sat down beside him, careful not to touch. He’d been up and down those stairs, through every room in that house and he simply couldn’t understand how Hotch walked away. The battle that raged in his mind as he tried to retrace their footsteps was astounding. “Chest x-ray?”

Hotch just looked at him, held him in a glare for a moment too long, and let his head drop again like the strain of holding it up it had just been too much. “Just a precaution.”

Just a precaution sounded like a flimsy argument. He wanted to argue, to call bullshit. He was only months out from a traumatic injury and now he was right back in here, it was more than just a precaution. And Hotch wasn’t leaving, wasn’t arguing, was just sitting docile and quiet in the waiting room. Just a precaution sounded like a lie. But they waited, side by side in silence, neither of them doing anything more than breathing.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Derek glanced up first and stood, arching his back, stretching life back into his limbs. “Yeah. That’s him.”

The nurse looked from Derek, with his bloody sleeves and his intense but worn eyes and smiled. “We’re ready for him in radiology.”

Hotch made a slight move, just a slip of his hips to move to the front of his chair and stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness, gripping his cup tight enough to dent the sides. Derek crouched beside him, still afraid to touch him, and looked up into his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Just need a minute,” Hotch whispered with the softest hint of an embarrassed smile. “Been sitting too long.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.”

All in all, the entire day was spent in the hospital. Hotch didn’t put up a fight when they asked him to sit in the wheelchair, he didn’t put up a fight when they asked him to lie down and he didn’t put up a fight when they told him he needed to rest. Of course, what he did at home and what they told him to do would likely look very different but he never said a word. That was the difference, Derek realized, between having something to fight for and losing everything.

He took the back roads to Hotch’s apartment, slowing down through broken city streets and neighborhoods that had seen better days. Avoiding the suburbs with their manicured charm.

It was Derek that cried first. He would have put money on it going the other way, but he just kept looking at his hands, feeling Haley’s cold skin beneath his fingers, thinking about the last time he’d seen her. He pulled over the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store, the streetlamps flooding parking spots with faded paint and cracked asphalt, killed the engine and fell into the silence.

There was nothing to say, no apologies he could make to take it all back. It was his fault at the end of the day, it happened on his watch. He’d held himself together, taken charge at the scene, given his team direction, and what did he have to show for it? More paperwork. An internal affairs investigation. And beside him, a man who had lost everything.

Hotch’s hand covered his as it sat on the stick shift, squeezed his fingers gently. The bandages over his knuckles were soft white clouds in the saltlamp glow and Derek cried harder. Until his chest constricted and his breath stuck in his lungs. “Dammit. I’m sorry.”

There wasn’t anything for Hotch to say, there weren’t words for this situation. Not yet. He reached up and touched Derek’s chin, turned his face toward him and slowly let himself fall against Derek. He groaned at the effort, his cracked ribs protesting every movement but they’d been separate all day and right now he needed to be close, to not be alone.

“We’ve gotta stop this,” Derek whispered, dropping his chin, leaning close until their foreheads touched. “Can’t be doing this right now. I need to get you home.”

“It’s your fault,” Hotch whispered back, finally finding his voice. He’d begun crying too, silent tears that came and went without warning. He began swiping at his cheeks with a little more force than was strictly necessary, tired of the sticky feel of tears on his cheeks. Derek stilled his hands and pressed their lips together in a delicate kiss, all slick saltwater warmth and shaky breath. They were alone, in the car in the parking lot in the entire neighborhood entirely alone, and the universe still felt thick and heavy. Beneath his clothes, Hotch’s skin was on fire but there was a strange calm that Derek had crafted in that kiss, and with a shuddering sigh Hotch kissed him back. Derek’s hands were cradling Hotch’s jaw, and Hotch’s hands balled up into weak fists in the fabric of Derek’s shirt and if they weren’t sitting in a bad area of town he might be content to stay here all night.

“Let’s go get Jack,” Derek whispered against Hotch’s lips, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark in the shadows. He was dead on his feet exhausted and still had so far to go before rest. They would get Jack and set themselves to whatever it was that people did in the evening when the earth hadn’t been blown to bits – dinner, bath, bed. Life always had to march on even when it felt like everything had come to a halt.

Hotch nodded, pressing his face against Derek’s, dragging his broken nose up the scruff of Derek’s cheek. Softer than rough, like the little sheets of sandpaper Derek discarded from his belt-sander, he loved the feel of it against his skin. It was lazy Saturday mornings after a long, hard week. It was walking in the door after a hard case and knowing you were home. It was looking up from your waking nightmare in a hospital waiting room to see salvation glowing above you, sitting beside you, driving you home.

“Thank you Derek.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #ficlet #please im so sorry the first one was eaten but it wasn't as good as this anyway so i guess it worked out

[pikslasrce]

my prediction for 2024-2026 mcr will end up playing arsenal fest and the entire emo population of the balkan peninsula will flood the city of kragujevac causing a massive earthquake in central serbia

#literally nothing can surprise me anymore. nothing. those people over at arsenal are doing some voodoo shit with summoning these bands #i think the year placebo came they had smashing pumpkins too. #last year they were supposed to bring the 1975 but then there were scheduling issues or something but like idc abt those guys. #but they are big so it serves my point #piksla.txt

[deadlinecom]

[sequinsmile-x]

Happy birthday in advance you wonderful human! I would love #26 from list 2 please and thank you 🥰💛

Of course friend <3

The prompt is "Is that...a dog?"

-x- Look...we all know I get carried away, and that I just can't help myself. Can we all just pretend that is it totally rational of me to turn this prompt into a 5k angst/hurt comfort fest? Ok? Thanks xo

-x-

Reversible

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Heart attack/recovery, Aaron Hotchner whump, hospitalisation, big feelings.

Read over on A03, or below the cut

“Are you ok?” 

Emily looks up from where she is making a drink, grimacing at the smell of the cheap coffee in the precinct they were in, and she sees JJ is now standing next to her, a concerned look on her face. 

They’d been called to New York for a case, a serial killer running rampant in the city. The profile was ready, and she was making herself a drink whilst the team set up and the officers gathered to be briefed. 

“Yeah,” she answers, giving JJ a tight smile, “I’m fine.” 

JJ raises an eyebrow at her, a half smile taking over her face. “Em, come on.” 

Emily sighs as she puts the coffee pot back down. “It’s Alice’s fourth birthday tomorrow,” she says unnecessarily, aware that her friend kept track of such things, that she like had a present for the little girl at home, “and we won’t be back in time for it,” she sighs sadly, “I’ve never missed her birthday before.” 

She knew it was luck more than anything that meant she hadn’t missed her daughter’s birthday in previous years. She’d tried to take leave this year and was due to have the day off, but the case was urgent, her work once again taking precedence over anything else. She was grateful that Aaron was at least at home, his promotion into Section Chief simultaneous with hers into Unit Chief when Alice was just less than a year old. 

He’d tried to convince her to stay behind, a smile and a joke thrown her way about how she was the Section Cheif’s favourite, that she could do what she wanted. She loved him for it, his attempt to cheer her up, to give her the chance to stay behind, but she couldn’t. They were already watched so closely, and she never wanted any of the other Unit Chiefs to have something to hold over her. 

JJ smiles sympathetically at her, placing a hand on Emily’s arm. “I’m sorry, I know it’s hard.” 

“Comes with the territory I guess,” Emily replies, taking a sip of her coffee, the burn in her throat easing some of the tension she felt. 

“It doesn’t make it any easier though,” JJ says, a knowing look on her face. Emily places her hand over JJ’s on her arm and squeezes.

“No, it doesn’t.” Emily agrees, and her phone rings in her pocket. “I should answer that,” she says, reaching for the phone.

“I’ll go make sure Dave doesn’t piss off any more of the locals.”

Emily chuckles as she grabs her cell. “You’re a lifesaver, JJ.” She looks down at her phone and everything stops.

Dread floods her, her heart dropping to her stomach at Jack’s name appearing on her screen. It was his first phone, the 12-year-old told it was for emergencies only when she and Aaron gave it to him. He was good at following the rules. Accepting his parent's concerns about unlimited access to the internet without argument. Even at his age, he knew they’d seen too much.

She looks at Dave, getting his attention as she points at her phone, indicating she needed to take the call. She leaves the room, letting the team take over presenting the profile. She answers when she’s just far enough away that her conversation won’t be heard. 

“Jack, honey, is everything ok?” 

“Emily,” he chokes out, his voice tight, a clear attempt to cover his emotions. She can hear Alice crying in the background, the sound twisting her stomach even further, “it’s Dad, he collapsed, I called an ambulance,” he rushes out, his words almost merging into one, “the paramedic said they think it’s a heart attack.” 

“Oh my God,” Emily exclaims, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes scrunched closed as she tries to gather herself, “where are you now?”

“On the way to the hospital.”

“Did they say which hospital?” She asks, looking back at the team and getting Dave’s attention, waving him over with her hand, grateful when he walks over with no comment, the rest of the team curious, but continuing on with the profile. She hears a murmuring on the other side of the phone, Jack repeating the question back to the paramedics before he puts the phone back to his ear. 

“George Washington.” 

“Honey, I’m going to leave as soon as I can, ok? And I’ll meet you there.” She swallows thickly and shakes Dave’s hand off when he places it on her shoulder, sure she would fall apart if anyone was too kind. “How’s your sister?” 

“She’s scared,” he says, “she wants to talk to you.” 

“Ok, pass her the phone?” She asks, biting the inside of her lip as she hears Jack talking softly to his sister, some shuffling as the phone is passed over. 

“Momma?” 

It almost breaks her, the devastated sound of her little girl’s voice, but she holds it together, knows her time to be afraid would be after all of this, once Aaron was ok. 

“Hi sweet girl,” she replies, hoping her voice sounds more even on the other side of the phone, “are you ok?”

“Daddy fell, wouldn’t wake up.” 

She clenches her teeth and this time when Dave reaches out for her, a look on his face that said he at least understood something was very wrong, she doesn’t shake him off. Alice had seen whatever had happened, she’d been there when Aaron collapsed. The thought of it makes bile rise up her throat. 

“I know, baby. I’ll be there soon, just make sure you listen to Jack. Don’t let go of his hand, ok?” 

“Ok,” she sniffs, “Love you.” 

Emily blows out a breath. “Love you too, can you pass the phone back to your brother?” 

She hears the phone exchanging hands again, and the steady beeping in the background, a machine no doubt hooked up to her husband as he was transported to hospital. 

“Jack,” she replies when the says her name again, “I’m going to leave now, it’s about a four hour drive but hopefully less. I’ll call when I’m close.”

“Ok,” he replies, “Love you, Emily.” 

She chokes out a sound, and she doesn’t really know if it’s a sob or a laugh, maybe something in between the two.

“Love you too, honey, keep an eye on your sister.” 

After she hangs up she looks at Dave, a sympathetic look on his face that she hates and she chokes out the words, the taste bitter in her mouth. 

“Aaron had a heart attack.”

___

The journey is a blur. 

Despite Dave’s insistence that someone came with her, she drives back to DC alone. She wasn’t sure she could have taken the entire journey full of platitudes, sure she would have snapped at one of her friends if they’d come along. 

When she makes it to the hospital she barely makes sure the car is parked before she climbs out, rushing towards the entrance of the Emergency Room. By the time she makes it to the desk she’s already talking, the nurse sitting behind it not even looking at her when she starts. 

“My name is Emily Prentiss, my husband was brought here. My kids-”

“Mommy!” 

She turns just in time, Alice running into her legs at full force, her arms wrapped tightly around her. She looks up to see Jack and Jessica walking towards them, the pre-teen with his hands buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground. Emily leans down and picks Alice up, the familiar weight of her little girl in her arms slightly easing the tightness in her chest. 

“Hi baby,” she says, kissing the side of her head, not missing the desperate way in which her daughter clings at her, all but trying to crawl under her skin, “Mommy’s here.”

When Jack makes it to her side he wraps his arms around her, and she makes sure Alice is secure on her hip before she puts an arm around him too, holding him as close as she can.

“Hi honey,” she says, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He was only a few inches shorter than her now, bound to overtake her at some point, she looks up at Jessica and exchanges a tight smile with the other woman, “Jess, thank you so much for staying with them, how…”

She drifts off, having to clear her throat to force the emotion down. 

“Jack called,” Jessica answers for her, smiling at her nephew, “I got here only about 20 minutes after they did, a nurse sat with them until then.” 

It gives her a sense of relief, knowing her children hadn’t been alone as they waited for her. 

“Have there been any updates?” She asks, holding Jack and Alice impossibly closer. 

“A doctor came by about 30 minutes ago, said things were looking good,” Jessica says, guiding the family over to some seats, “they should come by again soon.” 

Emily nods as she sits down, Jack detaching from her but sticking close by, choosing the seat right next to her. Alice clutches her so tightly Emily has no choice but to place her on her lap, kissing the top of her head again as they settle. 

Alice was usually chatty, a trait neither of her parents was sure where it came from. She’d talk to anyone, talk their ear off about anything, but she was quiet, her fists tight in the neckline of Emily’s shirt, her face buried in her neck. She shifts the little girl slightly, just enough to be able to see her face, her own dark eyes shining up at her. 

“You ok, sweet girl?”

Alice shrugs, her eyes filling with more tears, before she presses her face back into Emily’s neck, her tears burning against her skin. She looks up at Jessica who smiles sympathetically, her lips set in a firm line. Emily opens her mouth to try again, to do anything to hear her daughter’s voice, but she’s cut off.

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?”

___

She notices the moment he wakes up, his hand tightening ever so slightly around hers. Emily shifts forward on her seat, careful not to wake Alice, the little girl finally asleep in her lap. She squeezes Aaron’s hand in hers, and watches as his eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes. 

“Hey honey,” she says, smiling softly at him as he looks at her, his eyes slightly glazed over, the medication the doctors had given him clearly working. 

“Em?” He asks, shaking his head slightly as if it would clear it. “What happened?”

“You had a heart attack,” she replies, “the doctors said you should be ok though.” 

He nods, before frowning again, his eyes flitting down to Alice. “The kids?” 

She sets her lips in a firm line and shifts her hold on his hand so their fingers link together, pre-empting the way he would inevitably blame himself for what happened. 

“They saw it happen,” she squeezes his hand when she sees the grief flash through his eyes, the turmoil settling over his face, making him look somehow more drawn than he already did, “Jack called the ambulance, he went home with Jess a little while ago,” she nods down to the sleeping little girl in her lap, “Allie is a little quieter than usual, I don’t think she understands. When I tried to hand her over to Jess she almost screamed the place down,” she smiles weakly, “thought it was best to keep her with me.” 

“God, I’m so sorry.”

She squeezes his hand again, wishing she could hug him, that he could hug her, but this was the best they could do for now.

“You have nothing to apologise for, love,” she replies, lifting their joint hands to press her lips to his knuckles, “nothing at all.” She clears her throat and looks at her watch. “I technically shouldn’t be here, I think the nurse took pity on me because of Alice, said we could stay until you woke up. As soon as they come in here we’ll be kicked out.” 

He nods in understanding. “Are you ok?” 

She chuckles humourlessly, “As ok as someone who got a call saying their husband had a heart attack can be.” 

“Em-”

“I’m just so glad you’re ok,” she says, swallowing to dislodge the lump in her throat, the shake in her voice, “god knows I wouldn’t have been able to pick out a puppy for this one's birthday by myself.” 

He smiles at her, a look in his eyes that lets her know he understands what she was doing, that this wasn’t the place for them to have this conversation. They’d spent far too much time sitting by each other’s bedside in hospital, had far too many rushed conversations when they thought it was their last chance to do so. They had a life together now, things were different. 

They had time. 

“She can have all the puppies she wants after this.” He says in response, and it makes her laugh, a little more tension in her chest easing. 

Alice had wanted a puppy almost as long as she could tell them so, one of her first words being “dog.” At first, they had been hesitant, their lives chaotic enough, but Jack made it clear he wanted one too and their minds were made up. A joint decision that they would wait, Alice’s birthday seeming like the perfect time. 

“I think we’ll start with the one, Aaron,” she replies, “see what the cat makes of it first.” 

She felt Sergio simply wouldn’t care, just like he hadn’t cared when they brought Alice home for the first time. Barely casting the little girl a look until she was old enough to chase him around the house. 

“Sounds like a deal.”

___

She sighs as she makes it to the top of the stairs, readjusting Alice on her hip as she does so. Jessica had just headed home, a tight hug and a promise of any help Emily needed left in her wake. Emily pops her head into Jack's room and sees he is fast asleep, she leaves the door slightly open, something she hopes he will take as a sign he can seek her out in the night if he needs to. 

She goes into Alice’s room first, settling the half asleep girl onto her bed as she digs out pyjamas for her. She helps her into them, the usual insistence that she could dress herself nowhere to be found. Emily is just about to pull the covers back, tuck her daughter in when Alice grasps at her sleeve, strength Emily wasn’t expecting at this time of night. 

“Momma’s bed.” 

Emily cups her daughter’s cheek, pushing some stray strands of her wild hair behind her ear. 

“You want to come sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed?” She asks softly, her voice a whisper in the hope they didn’t wake Jack up in the room next door. Usually, she didn’t encourage this, only letting Alice sneak into their room first thing in the morning, pulling the little girl under the covers with them sometimes the only way to get more sleep on a Sunday. But as Alice nods at her, her eyes shining, Emily knows she can’t deny her anything. “Come on then.” 

She picks her up again and carries her to the master bedroom. Emily finds herself tensing slightly at the sight of the room, her husband's things strewn everywhere from where he’d been alone that morning. She settles Alice onto the bed and tells her to get comfortable, and she heads into the bathroom to change. She does a quick version of her nighttime routine, her exhaustion taking over, and climbs into bed alongside her daughter within minutes. 

Alice is mostly asleep, snuggled up to her mother, her hand tangled in her pyjama shirt. Emily breathes her in and looks over to her husband’s empty side of the bed. Her eyes focus on the alarm clock he keeps on his nightstand, her eyes welling up as she sees the time, the clock switching to midnight. 

She kisses the top of Alice’s head, her fingers trailing through the little girl's hair.

“Happy birthday, sweet girl.” 

___

One Month Later 

He was a terrible patient. 

Emily already knew that was true, anytime he’d been sick over the years evidence enough, somehow worse than their children were. 

This, however, was the worse she’d seen him.

At first, he’d seemed happy to follow the doctor's orders. He was slowly introducing his exercise back into his schedule now the cardiologist said it was ok, and he initially was receptive to the recommended dietary changes. 

Emily was being as supportive as she could be. Replacing all the coffee with decaf, and donating any processed food they had in the house. She’d even dug out the blender Penelope had got them as a moving in gift when they bought their house, used only once for frozen margaritas before it went to live in the back of the pantry, to make smoothies. 

As the weeks passed, he started to become more resistant to it. Never saying anything, but rolling his eyes if she made a comment about something he was eating, or watched as he put salt on his dinner. It made things tense sometimes, but she was working through it, never letting her emotions get the best of her. 

Alice was still refusing to sleep in her own room, crying and screaming if they tried to settle her down in there, so afraid that something would happen to one of them. Jack kept a close eye on Aaron whenever they were in the same room, as if he was waiting for him to collapse again. Between holding them all together, Emily hadn’t had time to address her own feeling about it, to recognise how close she had come to losing the love of her life. 

She had gone back to work a week ago, grounding herself for now so she was still around if necessary, since Aaron still tired relatively easily. He was due to go back to work in a few days, something that made her nervous, the thought of adding the stress of the FBI back into his life enough to leave her breathless. 

She doesn’t say that though, doesn’t tell him that she has nightmares of walking into his office at work to find him unconscious on the floor. She smiles instead, nodding when he suggests having the BAU over for a few drinks before he goes back. She finds herself enjoying the evening, keeping a close eye on what Aaron is drinking, but still laughing at her friend's jokes. 

The evening is winding down as she shows JJ and Will out, hugging her friends on the porch as they leave, and she sighs happily as she closes the door behind them. The house felt quiet without the team, only Dave left to go home, and she smiles to herself as she walks through the house to find him and her husband.  

The smile fades off of her face as she steps into the backyard, assaulted by the smell of smoke almost immediately. She feels like she’s been kicked in the gut when she sees Aaron and Dave standing there smoking, cigars that Dave always brought out for big occasions. It had happened at her and Aaron’s wedding, given away when her new husband kissed her, the taste on his tongue making her turn her nose up at him. 

It happened when Alice was born too. Aaron snuck back into the house after showing the team out, their first time meeting the newest Hotchner, the smell of smoke lingering on his skin. She’d made him shower before he could hold the baby again, her eyebrow raised as she dipped away from a kiss, Alice tiny and secure against her chest. 

This was different, instead of an eye roll and mild admonishment she felt anger rising in her chest. All the sadness and grief she had forced down since Jack had called her coming to the forefront, spilling out of her in a way she couldn’t control.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She asks, and she gains their attention immediately, both looking at her wide-eyed and caught out. 

“Em-” Aaron starts, dropping the cigar and putting it out, but she cuts him off.

“Don’t Emily me.” She seethes, her finger raised to point at him, she turns to Dave, her eyes hard as she fixes them on him. “You need to go.”

“Bella-”

“Dave shut the fuck up, and get out of my house.”

He mercifully doesn’t argue with her any further, shooting Aaron a look that could only mean good luck before he puts out his own cigar, walking back through their house. She turns to look back at her husband, who at least had the decency to look regretful, and she swallows thickly, shaking her head at him.

“What is your problem, Aaron?” She asks, not missing how her voice shakes, the anger and sadness inside of her waging a battle to come out on top.

“Emily,” he says calmly, taking a step towards her, stopping when she takes a step back, her arms tight across her chest, “I’m sorry, it was stupid. But it’s just one-”

“It’s not just one cigar though, is it?” She asks shrugging her shoulders at him, her eyes boring into his. “It’s the coffee we both pretend you aren’t drinking even though I quit drinking it too to support you.” She laughs mirthlessly when he looks down at the ground, averting his gaze from hers, “oh yeah Aaron, I found the receipts from Starbucks in your jeans when I did your laundry,” she shakes her head, “at least I know you’d be useless at cheating on me if this is anything to go by.” 

His head snaps up at that, his eyebrows knitting together as he scoffs. “Em.”

Any guilt she’d usually feel for the baseless implication is washed away by her other emotions, a mere drop of water in the wave she was being carried by, wiped away like the tear on her cheek. 

“I know it’s a lot. I know it’s a big change in everything, but I am trying to keep you alive,” she says, no longer trying to hide her fear, the heartache she had felt for a month. Something that now felt like it was a part of her, of their family, an unwelcome guest in their home. “You nearly died, Aaron,” she points back at the house, knowing Jack would be entertaining Alice somewhere, both of them hopefully none the wiser about what was happening in the backyard, “in front of our kids for fuck sake, and you are acting like that’s nothing.” 

For the first time since she’d walked outside, she sees a flash of anger across his face, his jaw tensing as he clenches his teeth. 

“Now wait a minute-”

“No,” she cuts him off, “Jack has signed up for a CPR class at school, did you know that?” She asks, and she watches as he shakes his head, frozen to the spot, “and our 4-year-old refuses to sleep in her own bed anymore because she’s so scared about what happened, and I…” she drifts off, her words cut off by a sob, he takes a step towards her and she puts her hand up, stopping him in his tracks, knowing a single touch from him at this point would be her undoing, “and I thought I was going to lose you, Aaron. I drove home all the way from New York mentally planning what my life would look like without you and I hated it.” She swallows thickly, no longer bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “So get your fucking act together, because we need you to care as much as we do.” 

She goes to turn, ready to walk away and leave him to it, but she stops herself, her eyes meeting his again.

“I love you, Aaron,” she says, none of the usual joy or lightness in her words, tasting bitter for the first time ever, “and right now, that is hurting me. You are hurting me,” she sees how he recoils, almost as if from a physical blow, and she gets a sick sense of satisfaction from it, “and I am done trying to fix this by myself.”  

She turns and walks away without saying anything else, ignoring him shouting her name as she walks into the house.

___

She ignores him when he eventually comes to bed, her back to the door, Alice asleep and snuggled up next to her. She squeezes her eyes shut, pretends to be asleep even though she knows he won’t fall for it. He tries to talk to her once, her name whispered in the darkness of their bedroom, but she doesn’t react. He sighs and kisses her temple as he climbs into bed next to her.

The next morning she leaves early, her chest still aching with everything from the night before. When she gets to work Dave is standing at her office door, his hands in his pockets and regret all over his face, but she storms past him, successfully ignoring him all day unless it was something work related. She was so angry at him still, so furious he hadn’t even thought about it, that she didn’t trust herself not to say something that could put permanent cracks in their friendship. 

Aaron texts her throughout the day, and she replies, her anger not making her cruel. She smiles at the photos he sends her of Alice and Jack, the latter pushing his little sister on the swing in the park. 

The day does quickly, almost too quickly for her liking, and she finds herself at home before she has been able to plan what she wants to say to him. She blows out a steady breath as she gets out of her car, her briefcase over her shoulder. She’s about to unlock the door when she hears what sounds like barking coming from the inside of the house, followed by Alice’s laughter. She frowns to herself as she opens the door, her suspicions confirmed when she is met with the sight of Alice and Jack on the floor, an excitable white ball of fluff between them that she assumes is a puppy. 

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She looks up to see Aaron standing behind the kids, an unsure smile on his face, and what’s clearly a homemade smoothie in his hand.

“Is that…a dog?” She asks, placing her bag down by the door, squatting down by her children, and putting her hand out for the tiny creature, unable to suppress a smile as it licks her before returning its attention to Alice. 

“We got him from the rescue centre, Alice picked him out, right sweetie?”

Alice nods enthusiastically, looking up at her mother. “His name is Marshmallow.” 

“Marshmallow?” She asks, creasing her brow, looking up at her husband with a disbelieving look. 

“She originally wanted to call him Mommy, so let's call this a win,” Aaron remarks, a smirk on his face that she can’t help but briefly return. He clears his throat, tilting his head over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “Shall we talk?” 

She nods, kissing the top of Alice’s head before she stands back to her full height, ruffling Jack’s hair as she passes him. “You two be gentle with him ok?”

“Yes, Emily.”

“Ok, Mommy.” They say in unison, not even looking up from the newest addition to the family. 

Emily blows out a steady breath as she joins her husband in the kitchen, sighing as she leans against the kitchen counter, her eyes briefly landing on the dirty blender in the sink before she looks back at him.

“A puppy, Aaron? Really?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“We promised Allie we would get one, now seemed like the right time,” he says, smiling when Alice’s laughter travels out from the living room. “Listen to her, Em. She hasn’t laughed like that in weeks.” 

Emily shakes her head and looks down at the floor. “We’re not done talking about you getting a dog without talking to me about it,” she says, and she looks back up at him, a soft smile on her face, “but I know your heart was in the right place.”

He places his glass down and reaches out for her, and unlike the night before she doesn’t flinch away from him, allows him to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. 

“Em, sweetheart, I am so sorry,” he says sincerely. His words instantly, and unexpectedly, make tears spring to her eyes, “you all deserve better than I’ve been acting.” 

“Honey,” she says, her hands clasping at the back of his polo shirt, “I know it hasn't been easy for you, and that the loss of control is making you try to find it where you can’t-” she smiles through her tears as he mumbles something about profiling under his breath, “but I need you to take this seriously. We all do.”  Her chin trembles with the force of her emotion, and despite her efforts to suppress it she sobs, leaning forward to bury her face in his chest, “I can’t lose you.” 

He holds her tightly, his hand rubbing wide circles on her back as he kisses the top of her head. 

“I know, baby,” he says, kissing her head again, “I know. And I am so sorry.” 

They stand in their embrace, minutes passing by around them as she calms, her hitching breathes slowing back to normal as he infiltrates every one of her senses. She pulls back eventually, giving him a shaky smile as he wipes tears from her cheeks.

“No more cigars.” She says, her voice shaking, and he nods in response. 

“No more cigars,” he agrees, “or secret coffees.” He leans down to kiss her, a silent promise against her lips, and she grimaces when she pulls back, making him laugh. “Those smoothies do taste terrible though.”

“God,” she frowns, “they really do.” 

He kisses her cheek, still holding her close. “Dave texted me today,” he says carefully, “says you’re punishing him with the cold shoulder.”

She scoffs. “If he thinks that is his punishment he really doesn’t know me,” she says offhandedly. Aaron looks down at her, a curious look in his eyes. “I may have partnered him with Spencer for the foreseeable.” 

“And?” 

She frowns at her husband, “And what?” 

“That’s not all you’re going to have done love, I’ve never seen you that angry,” he quips, quickly clearing his throat at the way she raises her eyebrow at him, “not that it wasn’t deserved.” 

She hums in her throat, “Good recovery,” she deadpans, hoping she has got around explaining anything further to him, groaning when he digs his fingers into her ribs, “I…may have also told Spencer that Dave believes the Earth is flat.”

Aaron bursts out laughing and shakes his head at her. “I love you.” 

She smiles in response. “I love you too.” 

“Mommy, Daddy, Marshmallow got on the couch!” Alice calls from the living room, her excitement not filtering through to her parents. They both sigh simultaneously and Emily looks at her husband.

“You’re the one who got the dog.” She says, raising a brow at him. 

He nods and kisses her one more time before turning and leaving the kitchen.

“Jack, Alice, what was my first rule about the puppy?” He asks, already walking towards the living room. 

Emily gives herself a moment alone before she joins the rest of her family, the sense of dread that had settled in their home easing for the first time in weeks. 

Things were going to be ok.  

-x-

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[sordidamok]

People who go to Burning Man have a lot of money, which is why you're supposed to care about them. Poor people live in worse conditions in every city every day. The media doesn't give a fuck about them.

#burning man #eat the rich #eat the fucking rich #kill the rich #media #poor #sordidamok! #anti capitalist #anticapitalist #anyway fuck capitalism

[paracunt]

Paramore at Austin City Limits by Daniel Cavazos for Flood Magazine (2022)

#paramore #austin city limits #flood magazine #daniel cavazos #tour 2022 #ACL #acl fest #acl festival #hayley williams #taylor york #zac farro #joey howard #joey mullen

[anotherclassicpretence]

Short snippet for @tes-summer-fest day 2- Prompt: Magic. Involves an OC, but indirectly.

~

"Another of those blasted mages," the Nord sneered, looking for the table farthest away from Brelyna in The Frozen Hearth, Winterhold's last remaining inn. He meant her to hear the insult, and the following ones aimed at her Dunmer identity; but she had long since given up reacting.

Today, though, the words awoke pity in her heart. The prejudiced jarl, who treated the only institution keeping Winterhold alive with as much disgust as possible, was right. The locals jeering at the College mages as they hurriedly passed the streets were right. It was the College- her college- that was responsible for the Great Collapse.

There was no intention to do harm, nor was anyone directly involved still alive- although that depended on your definition of 'alive'. The Augur of Dunlain was beyond punishment now.

Brelyna couldn't remember the name or the face of the mysterious trainer whom she had learnt so much from- a teacher who refused to enter the College, but always spoke of it with warm gratitude. Warm gratitude hiding a sharp bitterness for anything that threatened it, including the Augur.

"It was an accident, but he knew the risks. He didn't care about his fellow mages, and his 'experiment' ruined thousands of lives." The words echoed in her mind, still only half-believed. How could this be true? And why would the Arch-mage allow such a criminal to continue his residence in the Midden? Ah, not the Arch-mage, but Mirabelle, at least?

The trainer had said it was more trouble than worth getting rid of him- that he had already been contained enough to rule out becoming a threat. The college barely had enough students to continue functioning, and losing them here would be senseless. The secret of this crime had been buried for everyone's good- not even the oldest wizards knew it. Brelyna herself had all but forced the truth out of them, confidently declaring that she could digest it easily.

Still, how could this truth pass through her without awakening some strange guilt? Was she obliged to tell her fellow students, to tell the people of Winterhold, that yes, someone from the College brought on this plague; that yes, magic was an unpredictable, proud skill that delighted in outsmarting its mages to punish their arrogance?

"You are one of the last of our house." Her family had made it quite clear that she was to emerge from this place- this dreary, dangerous, backwater college that she inexplicably preferred over every other in Tamriel- as a Master Wizard, able to stand beside Neloth, the eternal measuring standard for House Telvanni.

He would have agreed with the Augur. Magic is discovery and delving, deeper and wider, until nothing remains to be unearthed, and godly power rests in your hands. If a city is flooded, a family killed, wars begun because of it, why- that was the world's stupidity. The world owed these superior intellects the space to conquer magic.

She left the inn, gazing at the silhouette of the College from the porch. Magic was a drowned city, a puppet Emperor, a whole race vanished. It was necromancers defiling tombs, houses burning down, Daedra roaring into peaceful provinces.

The mysterious trainer had told her one last thing- "You chose well. The College of Winterhold is eager to teach, eager to embrace your skills. The Augur is but a warning- only an exception. This is a place you can call home."

Brelyna thought of Master Tolfdir, always ready to explain, always desirous of their safety, and Mirabelle Ervine, efficient, devoted, and inspirationally resourceful, finding ways for all of them to understand magic completely. She remembered all the times Onmund and J'zargo, competitive and short-tempered as they were, had gathered in her room to study and help her with experiments.

This wasn't a Telvanni wizard's house. This was her home, because it taught her that Magic was golden light healing wounds, it was the fresh breath in your lungs as you swam under water, it was the welcome warmth of a campfire in the freezing night.

The Augur's deeds could not be undone, but the College of Winterhold must stand, with all its eccentric mages and impulsive students. It had learnt its lesson, and Brelyna had learnt hers. She made her way back to her room, and dreamt of conjuring a familiar.

#tesfest22 #the elder scrolls #tes #skyrim #college of winterhold #writing #writer

[iliketrainmen]

If I had a nickle for every great glitchmon fic/au I've found over the past month or so, I'd have three nickles. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird/amazing that it happened thrice in 2022. ((I'd also have two nickles for every reminder of and subsequent nostalgia-wave for Glitch Fest ;u;)) Anyways!!! Greetings, person of phenomenal taste & art skill, please take this ask as blanket permission to talk about whatever GlitchFarer AU stuff you want to :)

I'm so so sorry for responding to this so late! Tumblr pulled a Wattpad and kept deleting wiping my responses to this, but after updating Tumblr it's finally working properly and I can answer this!

Thank you sm for the ask ahhhhh!!!! I'm really happy that you like Glitchfarer, it's such a passion child of both my interests in Submas and my love for Gen 1 glitches (which have become so prevalent they're practically a science of their own.). Also, nice to see another Scykoh fan here, making this au made me rewatch their glitch quest videos about pokemon and eventually the entire playlist of glitchfest that they've made.

Also, I have been holding BACK so much when it comes to this AU, but I'll try not to spoil too much of it other than basic world building.

———;

So, Glitchfarer. This au came alive during the first big wave of submas content involving Emmet capturing/using legendaries to beat up God. I remember looking at a particular post about Emmet catching all of the legendaries to absolutely body Arceus to bring Ingo back, and going "that's cool and all... but why not more unhinged? Why not something like MissingNo?" and them boom. It was created and it was incredible.

A really fun thing about this au for me is that while I can portray it comedically, there's a lot of thought and technical stuff that goes into the designs of the glitchmons and the world they live in. For example, the main Glitch City is one big labyrinth that will always get you lost, and is a constantly changing maze. If you dont have one of the locals guiding you, you're stuck in there forever unless a pokemon can use fly to escape. It's made up of a bunch of optical illusions that aren't illusions at all. There are also floating islands as apart of the natural terrain outside of the massive city and a large, endless sea at the bottom that doesn't have a floor to it.

The bottomless sea is more or less a really complicated one-sided gateway to Cinnibar island's coastline, and it's flooded with all of the different pokemon and trainers that are possible, including Zzazz trainers. This is mainly in reference of the Old Man glitch, where various pokemon and trainers can be encountered at the right edge of the Cinnabar Island coastline depending on the letters of your name. Thought it'd be a cool reference to one of the oldest glitches known.

Glitchmons included in this comic are designed based on their known typings, moves, and general corruption in the game. In the introduction post .4 was portrayed as an evil beetle sort of fellow, and for good damned reason!! Encountering one in the wild with the Mew glitch is risky, as these fellas can learn Super Glitch as early as... you know... level 1. It learns it multiple times through its move pool aswell, and it's pokedex entry plays a chaotic glitch tune that never ends and prevents the player from doing most of anything. Japanese Symbol is designed as a bit of a dick head, as it can be encountered through the Mew glitch and will always freeze the game upon entrance. (During research of this, I found out that by complete coincidence Japanese Symbol is the same name given to it by the English community of glitch hunting. I gave it that name because my phone doesn't have the character.)

Currently, there are three other characters planned to join Emmet in his shenanigans; one of them I already revealed in the introduction post, but the other two I won't spoil for a while. Just know that one of them is probably wanted for war crimes and the other is a character I'm surprised to not see much of in this Submas revival, considering they were one of the og fanboys of Ingo and Emmet.

#submas #subway master kudari #pokemon #glitchfarer au #or glitch quest au #emmet #subway master emmet #long post #ask response #i love getting asks so much its such a boost of dopamine for me and gets me reinvested in whatever im doing #and just hearing yall being interested in the au makes me so excited!! #rn we're just in the comedy introduction phase but later there'll be more technical stuff explored

[rosethornewrites]

Wednesday & Thursday NR, E, & M reading

The usual

Finished

Not Rated:

A Boy and his Cat, by Kakushigo (3rd in a series)

Baishen chose her master when he was still a small, starving child. She has stood by him while he has grown into a teenager and she will stay beside him until his heart stops.

(Written for The Untamed Winter Fest 2019, Prompt: Promise)

When Broken Ties Renew, by ElissaOfVere

Jiang Yanli is unable to push Wei Wuxian out of the way in time and he gets stabbed. As he lays there dying he says all he needs to say to ensure the survival of the Wens, the safety of his son, and reveals the truths he kept hidden. We also see from multiple perspectives how everyone feels about the matter. The sorrow of siblings. The guilt of a partial perpetrator. The love of a soulmate.

But as you know, soulmates belong together in any lifetime. They don't stay separated for long, and neither does family.

Explicit:

worship in your touch, by Anonymous

“Hey, if we’re like this,” Wei Ying murmurs in his ear, breath fanning against Wangji’s skin, “why don’t we do a little more than hugging?”

Wangji’s eyes snap to meet Wei Ying’s.

“You—“ He can’t speak. Is his mouth dry or flooding? Did Wei Ying just— Was he… was he asking? Wangji had never… he’d-

Wei Ying’s eyes are locked with Wangji’s own.

“I know your family doesn’t approve of this before marriage, but I’m asking anyway.”

“I would break any rule for you,” Wangji dismisses. “And Wei Ying is the only one for me.”

He feels so young and old when he says that, but it’s true. Nobody has ever made Wangji feel this way, nobody ever could. But he sees the way a small smile forms on Wei Ying’s face. It’s not the bright one that glimmers with mischief that never fails to brighten a room. This one is Wangji’s favorite smile, the small, flower-like in its slow unfurling. His whole face softens with it, and Wangji knows that smile is only for the people Wei Ying loves.

“Make love to me,” Wei Ying whispers, “I need to feel you in me or I may go insane.”

Or: WangXian modern au first time. That’s literally it.

Unfinished

Explicit:

old loves die hard (old lies die harder), by yuer (vintageblueskies)

Three years ago, Lotus Pier burned and Wei Wuxian disappeared. Lan Wangji spent months searching desperately with Jiang Wanyin, only to be called back to the Sunshot Campaign without finding Wei Wuxian. Officially, Wei Wuxian is missing, not dead, but the unspoken truth is that only death would keep Wei Wuxian from the Jiang sect for so long.

The Sunshot Campaign creeps along arduously. They’re able to sabotage Wen Ruohan incrementally thanks to their spies in Nightless City, but it’s not enough. Wen Ruohan’s corpse puppets are tireless and endless—there are always more bodies to be found.

Then, Wei Wuxian walks out of the Burial Mounds with resentful energy trailing off his body like smoke.

--

or, lwj marries the yiling patriarch in exchange for victory in the sunshot campaign.

Mature:

We Get It, You're In Love, by SimpleSoupsandAppleTarts

It is pointed out to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, that they are, in fact, in love with each other.

Naturally, they make up for lost time. This has a wide variety of reactions from those around them.

Time, by WithBroomBefore

Time travel fix-it AU, diverging from after Wei Wuxian's death and before Lan Wangji's punishment.

One: Perhaps the not-voice is a spirit, wailing its own grief. Two: Perhaps it is Wei Wuxian. There is no shortage of unhappy spirits in the world, now, so there is no certainty of that, but Lan Wangji must find out if there is any chance at all. Three: They have not taken his guqin, but the guards will hear it if he plays, and they may stop him. Four: He must then leave Cloud Recesses.

Addicted to a Certain Kind of Sadness, by CynicalMistrust

Wei Ying learns many difficult lessons before he is ten years old.

First - if a body stops moving and begins to grow cold, they will not get up again. Death is a permanent thing.

His parents are dead.

Second - hunger pains grow less severe after the third day.

Third - the line separating "human" from "animal" is fluid as a river.

These, among other lessons needed for survival - failure to take shelter from the rain can lead to weakness and illness, hungry dogs can be far more vicious than angry humans, and men will never offer anything for free - Wei Ying learns, because he refuses to die.

~on hiatus or discontinued, haven't decided yet~

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

[marcobrau]

Highlights from my second trip to New Orleans. Five nights in the Crescent City for French Quarter Fest. Witnessed bad flooding but the sun came out and made it all good. #NOLA #USA

[scentedchildnacho]

Naomi Uman: A Gaze

They told me to forgive judy she doesn't actually know what she does....so I did try to help her think deductively and tell her the common public does know these are suicide pogroms

She told me if I didn't have business there that i had to leave so I said I dont at this level of crisis have business with anyone....i would have to be one of those people that goes to jail after a binge privilege instead of just learning world literacy patience....

Then i said Judy this is a mental place I suspect that suspecting their not mentals is false reasoning and their mentals they cannot do current jobs Judy mentals truly cannot do things in this type of economy

Then I asked Judy if she accomplished any form of triage........and she said I just don't see behind the scenes so I said this is a crisis place and you actually have to have a triage social purpose to ask people to leave like place people or restart their federal social or actually accomplish something social and moral

Well mentals are about mass murder in Nazi germany too and I'm from the states so I know that experiencing the relevance of laws isn't a new emigration that can thieve and just go away to its first sponsor nation

There are laws Judy their student crises and neuroplasticity history changes things and it's not okay to emulate intransigent people it's weird to not let people economically recover

Arabs become more and more relevant here because things get as distressed as Europe and I can't just go grab wallets about a cup of coffee

Jobs their brains can't change with history and new policy and protocol and it's not okay to promise them things will be okay

Then trump comes around and it's they won't make people leave more for their health and safety they won't regularly close business so people leave the coast line more for their health and safety then floods

That's me about current poverty I have to be sent to Judy so jobs can be viewed as just selfish criminals and they try to turn sal armies into jails to put all the jobs in....

That's Dachau concentration camp....that would be the relevance of Phyllis chesler and madness theory

I don't know I tend to favor resistance Judy because I found out I believe death is only a liminal state and the idea life ends is impossible....and I don't want to go to jail for hyper profit that just hurts people sometimes when I can just resist and not go to hell ...

Don't tell me to go to hell

That's me about the above video and latin american vet pride if your going to be really German gay and kill everyone funding a navys lewd mean gay parties then their going to finally get ya Judy if ya play Judith fest

Well the situation is hyper politic...Ed....so it's still not retarded to think slowly and basically about composition it just lashes and batters eyes like Vietnam native comparisons creepy lights everywhere

Well they may be are just mentals so their not a new species and they do fit in with some bodies company in some way though

I am going to leave though to cities companies largely employ mentals I just hate current jobs to eating disorders and how people manage space just to be a mean witchy person....

Something about the eating disorders bothers me the worst.....its just never a good company if eating disorders can be used too physically

Their eating disorders and people used them very physically and made them interact socially too much when if people achieve boney it's just smell the tea and do your imagination to talk about later and model and look pretty

I don't think normally and it bothers me when normalcy can tolerate deliberation

I guess giving to jobs never repairs roads or gives people not jobbed a job so gosh I must feel really disciplined to not have to make Leo go to work at job thief migrants from here to there

Candombes tango they appropriate art forms like trail from here and buy European property off us and make fun of our deepest absence art form so European governments make them learn what they require from us so

So after that little to nothing gave back after that brutal of a niche consumption day I try to not give business anything so Irish Leo doesn't catch em with business not theirs

I was white so people like me about fair to jobs sees their innocence and attempts at pleasing everyone and doing the best they can do I know they don't appreciate criticism but Irish people tell me their bad people

Giving to jobs and there still is a lot of landscape destruction car malfunction weird occurances policing never improves security is never satisfactory if jobs is given things

Why are cops always going around being huge unfeminine men that enjoy doing gross male things sexually......than bonding together shooting at a female jogger from a car.....I don't know it's really huge Nazi gay male time and nothing is done for anyone

Most gays know to do hetero time to cultivate their feminine sensibility...I didn't like him as a speaker at first till he was like he just can't understand why two gross males want so much time together when they could become feminine and trans

I don't at first understand the politically incorrect unsympathetic at first

#Youtube

[kolgold]

"JYOTIBA TEMPLE: A LOOK INTO THE GREAT TEMPLE OF KOHLAPUR"

Snuggled in the heart of the Kolhapur district of Maharashtra, the Jyotiba Temple is one of the major holy sites of Hinduism. The Temple stands towering and divine near the Wadi Ratnagiri in the Kolhapur district of Maharashtra in western India. The temple is visited by many Hindu worshippers and is believed to be among the oldest temples of India.

History of the temple:

The deity of the temple is believed by the locals of Kolhapur to be an incarnation of three gods: Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesha, and Jamadagni. A magnificent yearly fair also takes place in the Hindu months of Chaitra and Vaishakha. Jyotiba temple towers at a height of 3124 feet. The temple is 18 km northwest of Kolhapur. As per the tradition, the first Kedareshwar sanctuary was built by Navji Saya. In 1730, Ranoji Shinde built the current sanctuary in its place. This altar is 57 ft x 37 ft x 77 ft high including the tower. This temple was built by Daulatrao Shinde in 1808. The inside of the temple is antiquated. There are other few sanctuaries and Light-towers on the premises.

Significance of the temple:

Legend says that the three gods appeared as Jyotiba to obliterate the abhorrent Ratnasur. Jyotiba assisted Mahalakshmi in her battle with the demons. He established his realm on this mountain and belongs to Nath sampradaya. On Chaitra Shukla sixth, he was given birth by Vimalmbuja, the spouse of the sage Pougand. Lord Jyotiba is the manifestation that obliterated Raktabhoj Rakshasa, and Ratnasur Rakshasa consequently freeing the locale from its oppression. The idol seated in the temple is four-armed. On Chaitra Poornima of the Hindu calendar, a massive fair is held, when lacs of Hindu devotees accompany tall (Sasan) sticks. The mountain is covered in pink because of "Gulal '' which is played by the people in the fest. Sunday is a day committed to Jyotiba, there is a constant flood of devotees on the day.

How to reach: The best timing to visit Jyotiba Temple is from 5 AM to 10:30 PM.

By Air - The temple is accessible from the Kolhapur district and to reach Kolhapur district you can take a flight to Kolhapur and the temple is just 31kms from there.

By Train - The Kolhapur railway station is only 21 km from the temple

By Road - The temple is around 21 km by bus route.

Things to do:

When you are visiting Jyotiba Temple, you can also plan a visit to the Dajipur Wildlife sanctuary, and have the pleasure of the jungle safari, and get to experience the great adventures amidst the natural beauty of the jungle.

You can also capture the rich history of Panhalagad in a trek across the towering ranges of Sahyadri. Thrill-seekers also get to experience bungee jumping when in Kolhapur.

Conclusion:

All in all, the Jyotiba Temple is one of the greatest shrines of India. Its rich history adds up to the ever-beautiful structure of the shrine. The temple holds a position of devotion among the locals and is seated in the heart of Kolhapur, a city that itself has so much to offer.

#Jotiba Temple #Kolhapur #Kolgold