#this is actually friends kissing each other after easter service

[pbandjesse]

I am finally curled up in my bed in the back of my car and I feel really happy. Only a little bit stressed because we got a carabineer stuck in Jesse's hatchback but we will solve that tomorrow. Today was a good day and I won't let something small like that ruin it.

I slept really well last night. I only remember waking up a little before James left for work. I remember lots of face kisses and being told how much I was loved. And then I slept for two more hours.

When I woke up I was in a little bit of a fog. My ears were all closed up. I wasn't my best. I would slowly start to feel better but it was slow going for sure. I texted Jess and took forever to get up but I would and things would start to feel better.

I got washed and dressed. I made a nice breakfast. And I made my plan. I decided I would drive to the museum on my way to the highway to say goodbye to James. And then take the longer way to avoid some tolls. Arriving in North East Maryland at 1. This would not work out.

Because of my brain fog I would forget a bunch of stuff. Not a ton but enough. I said goodbye to Sweetp and went down to the car to take the cooler and move some stuff around. I had to head back up to get my drink. And then was off. Thinking I had everything.

Making it half way to the museum when I realized I forgot the car outlet. We don't have an electric hookup at the camp site so to charge our stuff and to use the air pump for our mattresses we would really need that.

So I would have to go back. I went to hug and kiss James first. Said goodbye to them. Told them how upset I was about forgetting stuff. And then back home.

I got my outlet and left. And would make it back to the highway when I realized I forgot the other lantern and also the peanut butter j was suppose to bring. So I felt really dumb and was not happy. But it wasn't worth it to turn back.

I would end up taking the toll route because I didn't want to arrive a half hour after Jess. But the drive ended up being really nice. And I had a good time. And though there was a little traffic I would arrive almost exactly the same time Jess did.

I got a little stressed with parking because this tiny town had so much traffic for some reason. But it was a beautiful day and I was excited to be there. I walked the couple blocks back to where Jess was parked. And we would walk all over this little main street. We went to the coffee shop for donuts and an ice tea. We walked all over the antique mall and saw some fun stuff. The woman at the front desk was a character and collects doll eyes and taxidermy. Jess would buy a few things. And we told each other lots of work stuff and it was really just good to be with my best friend.

We would walk around a little longer before deciding to go to lunch. And we chose a little diner which was perfect.

We shared a salad and talked about I told her some of my anxiety lately. I am lucky I can be so honest with her. Because I have been very hard on myself lately and I don't want to project that on her when she's not actually upset with me. I am just worried about upsetting her and punishing myself which is dumb and not helpful to anyone.

Our waitress was so nice too. I told her we are camping and asked if it was possible to have some butter packets to take with us and she not only gave us that she also gave up napkins and utensils and she was just so sweet. Love when people are kind.

We knew we were coming into a spotty service area heading to the camp site. So we made sure we had to same address and Jess would wait for me there.

I walked back to my car and saw a duck nested up on the side of the bank?? It was super surprising and lovely to see. And then back to the car. I made sure I sent out messages to James and my parents. Especially since tomorrow is Easter. And then it was time to get to camp!!

Jess beat me by a couple minutes. And very soon we were heading into elk neck to find our camping loop. Which was very deep in. I think when I stayed here before we were in the second loop. But we have a good spot and I was excited.

We have neighbors. But no one is to close. Jess pulled in first and I backed up so we could set up the canopy between us which has been perfect. She got a real tent for her trunk and I have my mosquito net. We moved the picnic table to be under the canopy and got to work setting everything up. And it took a while but it was fun. Settling in. Sorting out everything we brought. I got the mattresses inflated and I love the new one. I wasn't sure it was going to work because I sleep on my side and it's very thin but it's actually excellent and I'm very happy.

After everything was set up we would also set up the hammocks. Which was the first time Jess has used hers and it was incredibly staticy for some reason. So we kept getting shocked and screaming and laughing.

We would take a walk around the loop to see everyone's set ups. I always love seeing what people are doing. There are a few youth groups who are hammock only camping and I always think that's cool but none of them have under covering and their butts are going to get so cold tonight. I hope they are all having fun. I enjoyed hearing them laughing earlier and some of the teen girls said me and Jess's set up is very cool so that made me proud of us.

When we got back from our walk we had hammock time. We read for an hour and it was nice being cozy in our hammocks. I liked watching the birds too. I just love being out here.

We would take another walk around the next loop. And when we got back I collected sticks and fixed my necklaces I accidently ripped off my neck. And we would try to start a fire but we couldn't get it to stay lit. Maybe we will try tomorrow and see if we have better luck.

Jess tried so hard though and that was really sweet. We used like half of the matches I brought though and after many failed attempts we gave up. Instead moving on to the new single burner stove. Which works so easy and I love so much?? It's way easier then the Colman we used to have and is self lighting. It's exactly what I wanted so I'm thrilled it worked out.

And since we figured that out so easily we made quesadillas for dinner and had apples to go with it. I was very proud of us.

After we ate we went to wash up and change into PJs. And would sit in the front seat of Jess's car to watch a movie while I knit.

And it was a lot of fun. Jess has a very complicated medication and nighttime routine. Like me but I don't do all of it when I'm not home. She has to do the medications so I waited for her in the bathroom. And I joked about her being so high maintenance. And then we tried to eat popcorn during the movie but it was stupid spicy so we gave up on that. Instead just critiquing the movie the entire time comparing it to the books. Which she just reread this year and I haven't read since I was like 15. So it was a fun couple hours.

We went to finish getting ready for bed. Brushing teeth. And turning on the string lights we had strung up in our cars. Jess wanted to see about closing her hatch and this is where we discovered that we couldn't get the carabineer out. Basically to trick the car into thinking the trunk is closed I push a carabineer into the latch. We learned that on our road trip and it works great to save the battery from dying. But her car is newer then mine and it won't give it up. And we also done had enough service to try to Google an answer. She was able to look s little if we stand in the right spot but nothing she found is working. And we very very much don't want to break her car.

So we aren't exactly sure what to do but also it's nighttime and this has to be a tomorrow problem. And I'm sure we will solve it. Even if we have to go talk to the camp host and see if they have access to bolt cutters. Something has to go wrong and if this is is it's honestly not the worst thing. I just feel bad because I'm normally the problem solver and I don't have a solution yet.

But we are both tired and there isn't anything else we can try. We will have to try again tomorrow. So she is asleep in her car. Hopefully warm and comfortable. And I'm am cozy in mine. I have one extra blanket I'm going to try to get because it's going to drop down to the 30s and I don't want to wake up cold.

I know this will be posted late. Maybe on Sunday if we get somewhere there is service. But if not you'll see this on Monday. I hope you all have a great weekend and are keeping safe. Until next time!!

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

       ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

       ❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist  This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

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‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

#magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin x reader #jimin x you #BTS smut #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jimin x oc #jimin angst #bts angst #the snowball effect

[evak-fic-rec-turtleanon]

Evak Fics - Religion

This is for the anon from this ask who asked for religious/church fics back in April 2020. 

*** Christianity Themed *** Other Religious Themes *** Bonus

***** Christianity Themed ***** 

Belief by bri_ness (921 words) - Isak reflects on his own beliefs while attending an Easter service with his family.  

Split Leviticus by Siren_whispers (3k words) - Without any kind of supernatural clairvoyance to speak of he couldn't predict what would become of his innocent question. “What if God is real?” 

oh holy night by smileymikey (3k words) - Marianne has a lot of favourite Bible verses, verses that bring her peace and settle her heart whenever she is anxious, but she does not think it is a coincidence God chose to give her a child on this day at this time. 

the binding of isaac by thekardemomme (3.4k words) - There used to be a Bible verse hanging up in Marianne’s house, on the empty spot of wall at the top of the stairs, to the right of Isak’s bedroom door. It was needlework, done on a white evenweave canvas, decorated with stitched green ivy. There’s lots of religious decor around the house, especially now that Terje doesn’t live there anymore, but none of it sticks out in Isak’s mind quite as much as that specific embroidery. 

Sweet Boys Shouldn't Drink Hard Liquor by wordsarelifealways (4.6k words) - Isak's mother is spiralling again and the texts are getting to Isak. Unfortunately, Even only finds out when Jonas calls him to tell him that Isak got really drunk and had a meltdown. Even looks after Isak at arguably his lowest point since he moved out of the Valtersen household. 

Wireless by ChrisJordyn (18k words) - That’s when The Thought pops back into in his mind. The Thought he had managed to cram back into the deepest corner of his memories. Right there it is again. Loud and clear. "What if I’m gay?" Church band au. before i ever met you, i never knew i liked to be kissed for days by Skamtrash (22k words) - Isak, the pastor's closeted son meets Even, who's out and proud and the brother of his best friend. Even helps him explore his sexuality.

(WIP) Heaven In Hiding by intothewind (26k words) - Isak is the preacher's son and Even comes to town looking like every one of the seven sins. 

All this and heaven too by champagneleftie, nofeartina (28k words) - Isak is a (closeted) pastor’s son AU. Even shouldn’t want the closeted pastor’s son like this, but it’s impossible not to. Especially when he’s already had a taste.

Can it Stay Between Us by photographer_of_thoughts (46k words) - Before Even starts his last year of high school, he moves to a farm in a small, remote town well outside the city limits of Oslo. Even's father thinks the country life will help him escape his past - the chaos of last year - but all the move has done is make him feel isolated. But then Even meets Isak, the pastor's son who lives on the next farm over, and life suddenly doesn't seem as lonely anymore.

Firestarter (Modern Boys part one) by Laika_the_husband (52k words) - Religion is an important theme in this fic but it’s not the focus I think.  Welcome to the nineties! Isak is a regular teenager who hates his parents, loves his Walkman and is secretly in love with his best friend. Then, out of nowhere, the most beautiful boy he has ever seen appears into his life and turns it upside down. 

Blanket Fort Gospel by Sabeley (59k words) - Isak Valtersen met the love of his life when he was eleven years old. It was a truth he had long tried to deny, but it was the truth nevertheless. Childhood friends au.

Storm Before The Calm by NeonViolet (88k words) - "He watched the ground beneath him start to get smaller as it faded away and he reminded himself that no matter how much everyone else would hate him for what he did, no one would hate him as much as he hated himself.  So even if he seemed to be losing control of everything else in his life, at least he had that." Or: Coming of age story as Isak navigates what he's been taught to believe and what he actually believes. Learning to love himself and falling in love in the process.

Don't leave me (alone) by Crazyheart (106k words) - Isak (25) is home in Oslo after several years of studies in Trondheim, feeling lonely and lost. One cold evening in October he meets a tall, blonde guy filming outside Sagene Church. Isak and Even have some strange sensations when they meet, like they have known each other in another life. Slightly magical AU.  Not sure how much of religious theme this fic has. 

***** Other Religious Themes ***** 

i'm choosing my confessions by w1ldestdreams (2.2k words) - Isak, Even, and their relationships with religion. (Christianity and Islam)

The Believer by folerdetdufoler (2.6k words) - Isak and Even talk about religion. 

(WIP) My Fossil is Bright in the Sun by allisonbucky (3k words) - Even lost himself, ran away from everything and everyone he ever knew, and found religion and some peace. He happened to leave Isak behind in the process. Two years later, Even comes back to Norway, and he has to visit the man he once loved. Judaism. 

Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking by staylucky (25k words) - The Afterlife is not what Isak Valtersen was expecting. He didn’t think he’d die at 18 years old in the first place. Purgatory’s ‘Apprentice Leader’, Eskild, is a wildcard, Isak's 'Angel Mentor' Noora doesn’t like Isak and he never got to even a kiss boy while he was on Earth. Thank Goodness, while he waits for reincarnation, for Jonas (another’s mentor) who takes Isak under his (literal) wing but most of all for fellow spirit and member of ‘Limbo Land’ Even Bech Naesheim, a beautiful boy with a past of his own. All isn’t what it seems, and Isak has a lot to discover. Influenced by various religious beliefs. 

***** BONUS ***** 

Faux Pagan Verse by colazitron (SERIES. 3 Fics) - I wish there were more in this series. Isak and Even represent different aspects of pagan rituals. 

(WIP) I could put a little stardust in your eyes by shinystar66 (4.1k words) - Isak is a god who comes to Earth every once in a while. During a particular midsummer night, he meets a human named Even who is about to change the course of his existence. 

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #religion #sorry it took me so long #and let me know what fics are missing

[mountainmaster489]

Hi, @reve13​, I promised to tell you about the Russian holidays, I hope it comes in handy and will be fun😉:

1. The very first in the year and the most widely celebrated holiday is the Novyy god (New Year).

It's celebrated on the night of December 31 to January 1. New Year holidays (weekends) last from January 1 to January 8. New Year is a secular holiday loved by almost all the inhabitants of the country, regardless of nationality or religion.

According to tradition, a few days before the New Year it is customary to install and decorate the fir-tree, as well as the house. As a rule, when the New Year is celebrated, close people gather at the New Year's table, usually on the evening of December 31 of the outgoing year.

The coming of the new year and the actual beginning of the celebration is marked by the Kremlin Clock striking twelve, i.e. midnight Moscow Time preceded by the New Year Address by President of Russia and followed by the playing of the National Anthem of Russia.

The most popular dishes of the New Year's table in Russia are "Olivier" salad (Russian salad), "Selyodka pod Shuboi" salad (Herring under a fur coat), Kholodets (aspic), caviar, champagne, tangerines, etc. Popular hot dishes include a roasted pig, roasted meat chunks, goose with apples, chicken stuffed with buckwheat and mushrooms, sour cream hare, venison, lamb, whole fish, etc...

Gifts to Russian children and adults are brings by Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost). This is a character of Slavic fairy-tale folklore. In its origins, he is a pagan personification of the forces of nature (winter and frost) and a wizard. Ded Moroz is depicted as an old man in a colored - blue, blue, red or white coat, with a long white beard and a staff in his hand, in felt boots. He rides three horses. Usually comes accompanied by his granddaughter, Snegurochka (Snow Maiden), who helps him. Snegurochka is also a fabulous folk character. At holidays, acts as an intermediary between children and Ded Moroz. Sometimes portrayed as a little girl, sometimes an adolescent. She wears long silver-blue robes and a furry cap or a snowflake-like crown. They can also be accompanied by forest animals.

We also have very popular fireworks. After midnight, it may resemble a small colorful war, hee hee.

2. Christmas in Russia (Russian Orthodox Church), commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, is celebrated on 7 January in the Gregorian calendar. Christmas is considered a high holiday by the Russian Orthodox Church. On Christmas Eve, 6 January, there are several long services, including the Royal Hours and Vespers combined with the Divine Liturgy. The family will then return home for the traditional Christmas Eve "Holy Supper", which consists of 12 dishes, one to honour each of the Twelve Apostles. Devout families will then return to church for the "всенощная" All Night Vigil. Then again, on Christmas Morning, for the "заутренняя" Divine Liturgy of the Nativity. This holiday is important for religious Orthodox Christians.

3. St. Valentine's Day is a holiday of Catholic origin, which is celebrated on February 14 in many countries of the world. Named after one of two early Christian martyrs with the name Valentine.

Those who celebrate this holiday give their beloved and dear people gifts, flowers, sweets, toys, balloons and special cards (often in the shape of a heart) with verses, love confessions or wishes of love - Valentine. This holiday gained popularity in the 90s in Russia. It is not a public holiday or a day off, but rather widely celebrated by young people.

Сompetition for Valentine's Day is All-Russian Day of Family, Love and Faithfulness (The Day of Saint Peter and Saint Fevronia). This holiday is celebrated on July 8th. Its symbol is a white daisy. The history of the spouses of Peter and Fevronia is the embodiment of the unquenchable love and loyalty. This date are trying to popularize , because many Russians dislike the foreign Valentine's Day, which is called commercial.

4. Defender of the Fatherland Day (День защитника Отечества) is a holiday observed in Russia on 23 February.

Officially, as the name suggests, the holiday celebrates people who are serving or were serving the Russian Armed Forces (both men and women, both military and civilian personnel), but unofficially, nationally it has also come to include the celebration of men as a whole, and to act as a counterpart of International Women's Day on March 8. Because the majority of men in Russia undergo mandatory short military service.

The holiday is celebrated with parades and processions in honor of veterans, and women also give small gifts to men in their lives, especially husbands (or boyfriends, fiances), fathers, sons and brothers. As a part of the workplace culture, women often give small gifts to their male co-workers. State day off.

5. International Women's Day is celebrated on the 8th of March every year. It appeared as a day of women's solidarity in the struggle for equal rights and emancipation. State day off. The celebration of March 8 in Russia includes the established tradition of giving women flowers and other gifts.

6. Maslenitsa (Мaсленица) is an Eastern Slavic religious and folk holiday, which has retained a number of elements of Slavic mythology in its ritual, celebrated during the last week before Great Lent, that is, the eighth week before Eastern Orthodox Pascha. The date of Maslenitsa changes every year depending on the date of the celebration of Easter. The traditional attributes of the Maslenitsa celebration are the scarecrow of Maslenitsa (which burn), making visits, sleigh rides, dressing up, bonfires, snowball fights, the capture of the Snow Fortress, festivities. Russians people bake pancakes and tortillas. It is customary to eat them with various fillings and share with friends.

7. The Russian Orthodox Church celebrates Easter (Paskha/Пасха) according to the Orthodox calendar, and so it can occur in April or May. Russians celebrate Easter with decorated eggs, special foods, and customs. The day before Easter all churches hold night services and organize religious processions around churches. By that time, kulich, the traditional holiday baking symbolizing the body of Christ, had been already baked and Easter eggs painted. The morning starts from visiting neighbors and giving away Easter eggs. The common phrase you can hear on that day is: "Khristos voskres!" (Christ is risen!), which is to be followed by "Voistinu voskres" (Truly He is risen! This traditional greeting followed by hugging and triple kissing is called "kiss of peace". Christian Easter feast lasts seven days and is called the Holy Week or Sedmitsa.

8. Spring and Labor Day. 1st May Day in its present form arose in the middle of the 19th century in the labor movement, which put forward the introduction of an eight-hour working day as one of the main requirements. In today's Russia, the holiday has lost its original political character. Some political parties and labor unions may have demonstrations on this day, but most Russians use Spring and Labor Day for gardening or spending time with their families. It is also common for people to have picnics or barbecues. Men may give spring flowers, especially tulips and lilacs, to women, and parents may buy balloons and ice-cream to their children to celebrate the end of the cold season in Russia. 1 May is a public holiday.

9. Victory Day. May 9, Russia celebrates the victory over Nazi Germany, while remembering those who died in order to achieve it. On 9 May 1945 (by Moscow time) the German military surrendered to the Soviet Union and the Allies of World War II in Berlin. Victory Day is by far one of the biggest Russian holidays. It commemorates those who died in World War II and pays tribute to survivors and veterans. Flowers and wreaths are laid on wartime graves and special parties and concerts are organized for veterans. In the evening there is a firework display. A huge ground and air military parade, hosted by the President of the Russian Federation, is annually organized in Moscow on Red Square. Similar ground, air and marine parades are organized in several other Russian cities. It’s a public holiday.

10. Russia Day (День России/Den Rossii) National Day, celebrated on 12 June. On this day, in 1991, Russian parliament formally declared Russian sovereignty from the Soviet Union.

11. Unity Day (День народного единства/Denʹ narodnava yedinstva) is a national holiday in Russia held on November 4. It commemorates the popular uprising which expelled Polish–Lithuanian occupation forces from Moscow in November 1612, and more generally the end of the Time of Troubles. The day's name alludes to the idea that all classes of Russian society united to preserve Russian statehood when there was neither a tsar nor a patriarch to guide them.

Celebrations of these days are accompanied by: Flag hoisting, parades, fireworks, award ceremonies, singing patriotic songs and the national anthem, speeches by the President, entertainment and cultural programs.

#mikhail arbatov #feilong #liu feilong #feilong liu #mikhail/feilong #mifei #mikhailxfeilong #frabatov #viewfinder #finder series #you're my loveprize in viewfinder #ayano yamane #manga #south park style

[jlf23tumble]

Agree so much with your post about the teams and fan engagement ! And love the way you articulated all of that. Although now I definitely am interested in knowing what your notes about the specificity of each team/artist cause I feel like they'd be fascinating to read. Hope you'll post them some day, and thank you for sharing your thoughts with us ! 😊

Awwww, that’s very kind! It’s definitely head canon city, I litcherally have ZERO clue what goes on behind the scenes (and I can’t stress this enough, none of us do), so this’ll look hilariously dated when we find out that blah woof was true all along, lmao (me @ myself, thinking of some random Grimshaw interviews from last fall, oh, bless). Let’s dig in!!

For those of you who just stumbled upon this post, it’s related to the one I made last night about how I think the management teams of all these men (mid-20s means = you’re a man, not a boy) are not, in fact, sabotaging them. They negotiate a lot of tricky interconnected arrangements that none of us are privy, to, plus they’re at least trying to achieve the goals their clients are going for. And they’re doing it—the trick is these goals are highly individual and not 100% sensical (at least given our own view from the afternoon, Arctic Monkeys ref, holllllllah!!!).

In addition, these goals constantly shift, as does the music industry itself—I drive my own self loony when I lurk on blogs that are seemingly broadcasting from 2012, confused by why xx’s team is so “terrible” because they aren’t throwing good money after bad to get on a radio playlist, or why they haven’t announced yy “properly,” as if they’re being paid to worry about this level of shit (which fires me up on about five levels, deep breaths in, deep breaths out). I’m much nosier about the signals we’re getting when we hear them talk in their beautifully media-trained way about their musical interests, when we get some of that sweet, sweet fan service with a Gallagher or a Capaldi, when we get that heads up about who’s attending what concert, stuff like that. These signals don’t necessarily indicate future collaborations, but they DO indicate what kind of image these guys want to have, the kind of music they want the public to associate them with.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself…their personalities and goals at the moment are all so vastly different, and I truly do love seeing how their teams are workin’ it accordingly. Again, please @ god, don’t @ me…opinions, massively unpopular opinions, dead ahead!

* Zayn. My read on Zayn is that he enjoys the creative process, loves writing and singing, digs collabing with people, but he doesn’t seem to give two shits about the biz side (and why should he? that’s called living the dream at this particular point in his career). His website recently added “tour,” which EYEBALL EYEBALL, but he doesn’t seem to be all that interested in putting himself back out on stage or into radio/print/etc. anytime soon, and again, why should he? His numbers are HUGE without pushing himself through the anxiety-provoking churn he endured for four years, so there’s no real drive for him to do any promo if he doesn’t want to (see: the netflix-like binge dump of Icarus Falls, which could be “sabotage,” or it could just be, “fineeeeeeee, here’s some stuff for you, enjoy”). What other artist gifts his fans with gorgeous covers of such a wide variety of songs that indicate he’s more interested in sharing them than selling them. Accordingly, his fan interactions seem fairly pure and not all that promo-y: he has a keen interest in fanart, he’s done some fan pop-ups/listening parties that are pretty low-key and *seemingly* fan-focused, and recently (with zero anything to really promote), he’s been posing for cute pics and chatting with randos on the streets of NYC. I recently read that his mgmt team is no longer with him, but that sort of folds into my feeling that he’s not pursuing anything biz-wise, hence no need to jump through those particular hoops (I think he’s also struggled with a lot of demons, so yeah, why add one more). Could he be adrift? Maybe, but the next guy is the posterman for lack of focus….

* Liam. Honestly, I worry about Liam most of all. His post-1D career seems very much adrift, and I like to joke that he’s giving me that tell-all about the D one sentence at a time, but goddamn, are people listening? The struggles with alcohol, the lack of focus on every level, the reliance on his dad’s career advice (which more clearly reflects his dad’s financial class, background, and history than it does Liam’s), and the overall confusion about look, sound, and direction also flow back directly into his team. I get the feeling that they aren’t sure what to do because LIAM isn’t sure what to do or what he wants, so they follow in his wake. He’s agreeable to a fault, so seeing him at a meet-and-greet at an HMV in Birmingham last week felt like a step back into 2010 for no real reason, just like hearing that he was more or less coerced into full nude photoshoots for an underwear ad (the decisions to say yes to both of those—who’s steering this ship? If it’s Liam, he needs to tell the team his overall goal, so they can plot a course he and his fans can follow; if it’s the team, ditto). Like Niall, Liam’s actually pretty good at the SM game: lots of selfies, snapchat filters, outfits, gym service, twitter interactions. But generally speaking, his promo is confusing, and that’s probably because there isn’t much *to* promote at this point, other than a mix of collabs, clothing endorsements, spon con, horse farms, and an album that’s always on the horizon. This might be tied to the general post-1D jolt they all went through, like a plane coming off autopilot and into the hands of someone who’s just learning how to fly it. Zayn debuted at number one, so his bump wasn’t as harsh, but the others are slowly, steadily finding their footing after taking some time to find themselves and their sound, releasing songs/albums, performing (or in Louis’s case, going through unspeakable tragedy). Liam’s still adrift…and somewhat admittedly, which is kind of telling in its own way. Just know that my nervousness on his behalf ratchets up every time he feels the urge to assure us all that he’s happy.

* Niall. Truly the one following the original 1D template, right down to working with most of the same people but with more of the overall control in his hands instead of a faceless management squad. Of any of them, he seems the most ambitious, the most scientific about the sound he’s after and how he’s gonna get there. His promo is a mix of new and traditional—radio shows, talk shows, podcasts, special events, twitter interactions with fans, twitter interactions with entertaining celebrities—and it’s all hustle hustle hustle, build build build, as if he were a new ingenue instead of coming up hard on solo album number two. He’s explicit in his goals, which is refreshing, but it means he walks a weird line with fans: on one hand, he’s done with their bullshit, get ready to get rekt if you start commenting on his boring food seasoning or home décor. But on the other hand, he fully recognizes how much he needs them, which is why we get so many peeks into his “normal” life (yet zero percent of his actual personal life). It’s also probably why the blatant tweets of the last two days seem so jarring to me (I might be alone on this one, but I’m not a fan of directives in general, and asking me to call radio stations on behalf of a rich white man to become even richer just rubs me the wrong way, same with asking me to stream stuff to get you to number one…you’ve been there, buddy, how about you calm down and build some character at number 51). And speaking of calming down, it does fascinate me that both Niall and Louis namecheck Taylor Swift as someone who gets the whole fandom push/pull thing right, so watching them try to reverse-engineer her secrets is fun. Louis nails it (that hotspot treasure hunt: chef’s kiss), but Niall’s heavy-handed easter egg dump in NTMY, she would never!! I think Niall’s team needs to watch “Calm Down” about five more times before they try that again.

* Louis. I think Louis honestly has an AMAZING team in place, and they’re all clearly on his side, which makes for a refreshing change. Like Niall, he has publicly praised Taylor Swift for how she engages with her fans, but I think he’s missing a key point: she doesn’t let her fans dictate strategy, and I HOPE that’s the case for Louis, too. His old team *was* shit, so yeah, encouraging people to do fan projects to get the word out was a good idea, but turning that spigot off to let a good (paid) team step in and take over has been, uh, challenging. He’s dealt with more than his fair share of personal tragedy, but every time he gets some momentum going, it feels like something bts pushes him back off track, and he tends to keep it private, which only makes his hardest-core fans scream “sabotage.” Rightly so, he’s focusing on his personal life, and rightly so, his team is giving him the space to do that, even when it costs cash money and throws a lot of shit seriously for a loop. It makes my heart soar to see the potential of what his team can do/is doing, how much space he’s being allowed to process what he needs to process. Weirdly, that’s an unpopular opinion, and a lot of people want to indulge in an angst wank fest where Louis’s the victim of a terrible team that won’t DO anything (nevermind the fact that he’s probably ASKED them not to do anything), so they undertake a tremendous amount of performative unpaid labor that ends up being counterproductive on just about every front. Even worse, most of them can’t seem to process the fact that losing your mum is a blow, losing your SISTER is a blow, juggling other siblings or close friends handling some serious demons of their own in the aftermath of all of *that* is a blow, let alone handling your own personal coping mechanisms, nope, they want Louis to release release release, perform perform perform, c’mon, what’s holding him back, he *said* he wanted to release an album this year, there’s “no reason” for a delay, gotta be his shitty team, free him. It drives me ‘round the bend because it’s the same talk from late last year, you know, when we later found out that at least one family member was losing a fight with drug addiction. Louis’s fan engagement/promo is therefore hella fraught: he has to balance LouisTM on twitter (Mr. Donny, he’s hard, mate), his werk IG posts, and his constant edging because nobody can remember or trust that he’s got this, that multiple things are in play. But he also knows his fanbase, knows that it’s resistant to any kind of change, so I hope he pushes through and stays true to what he wants to do. I was really encouraged with his last promo round because he seems to have narrowed in on a something solid, he’s got a plan, and it’s not, “hey mr dj, put my record on,” it’s getting his fans to trust that he and his team know what the fuck they’re doing, and spoiler alert, it ain’t radio, but go ahead and keep pissing off djs by sending angry tweets their way. (Related: why is it so bad to avoid the radio when all of us admit that radio music is garbage? Is it because it’s more about you than him? Much to think about.)

* Harry. My very favorite head canon is that Harry is Jeff’s nightmare client: what was perfection at first because the Azoffs are old-school promo all the way (no SM, baby, gimme that sweet, sweet paper), and that dovetailed nicely with post-1D Harry, but it quickly veered into mulish teeth pulling. Low profile can quickly spin into no profile, and that really doesn’t work too well when you’re trying to sell sell sell, even if your brand is Harry StylesTM. HS1 and Dunkirk in their own separate ways worked VERY hard to push past the still-persistent way the general public views Harry as boybander Harry Styles, or more accurately, former boybander Harry Styles who dated Taylor Swift (if you venture out and ask someone who’s not a fan), but what I love about Harry is that much like Zayn, he doesn’t seem to be too bothered by all that. Sure, he’s ambitious, he wants to challenge himself and do things, but he’s no Niall Horan. He’s put in his time! If he gets a number one, then cool, but he’s not gonna chase it. And this is where Harry’s team really reflects his goals and energy: sure, they want him to do some promo (that “Do” tweet, the entire bit about the fan in Australia and Harry Lambert’s follow, goddddd, I loved it, petty Harry, resigned Jeff), but they clearly aren’t forcing him. He drops a song that makes a HUGE splash, and the follow-up is…liking some tweets and going to a John Mayer concert (not a John Mayer fan, so that wouldn’t be my first choice, but I respond to the zero fucks given about the whole thing). The music industry has changed a LOT in just two years, so it’s kind of cool to see team Harry pivoting a bit, seeing more SM interaction, the kindness generator, etc., but that said, the team takes their cues from him, and he clearly doesn’t want to do a whole promo circuit beyond persons a, b, and c, and magazine R, F, and A. Does it make sense to have Rob Sheffield write a profile about Stevie Nicks-blessed shroom-eater Harry Styles when his new song sounds like the Zarry combo of my dreams? NOPE, but that’s okay, Harry wanted to talk to Rob, so that’s what happened. The new song is more streaming friendly, and thank CHRIST, a lot less crusty white dude stuck in the ‘70s, so I can only hope that the rest of the album is thus, but we shall see! We’ll also see if Harry’s fan engagement shifts any further into the active zone…so far, it’s been “I’m gonna follow some larries, like these fun generator posts, check out a few dads” and staged photo ops with the same familiar faces, but I think he’s dealing with his own major bts issues as well (album delayed at least twice; that entire stalking situation). I still contend the album’s coming in the next few weeks, so it’ll be interesting to see if/how any additional promo rolls out in this new world order post-gryles landscape, how many interviews he’ll do, but I like that there’s a strategy that seems less stodgy…kudos to the new SM team, at least!!

Oh man, that got really long! Hope you enjoyed, and YES, opinions opinions opinions, and they’ll be stupid in about three weeks’ time, thanks for coming to my already dated buzzfeed article

#so many long-winded opinions #one direction #yeah #and shout out to kim for always checking my work!!!

[aion-rsa]

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Complete Easter Egg and Reference Guide

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The following contains spoilers for The Umbrella Academy season 2. 

The Umbrella Academy wears its influences on its sleeve. Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá’s original comic and the Netflix series it was adapted into pay a great debt to properties like X-Men, Doom Patrol, and even The Royal Tenenbaums.

Now for its second season, The Umbrella Academy is even more devoted to Easter eggs, references, and many other real life and pop culture homages. This batch of episodes takes the Hargreeves family back to the early ‘60s where they encounter a whole new host of inspirations.

“There are tons,” showrunner Steve Blackman says of season 2 Easter eggs. “We specifically wanted to sit down and say, ‘Here are the Easter eggs we want to put in, let’s make a list of them.’ They’re everywhere. I think the fans will get a real kick once you start realizing what we’ve put in.”

Follow along with us as we catalogue every possible Easter egg and reference in The Umbrella Academy season 2. Hopefully we can clarify a thing or two about this season along the way. And hopefully you, dear reader, can help point out what we surely missed.

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 1: Right Back Where We Started

This episode takes its name from Maxine Nightingale’s “Right Back Where We Started From.” And indeed that song plays as the Hargreeves family arrives in the ‘60s and tries to acclimate to their surroundings. 

The season opens with the lunar-induced apocalypse that kills billions of people on Earth. The world’s destruction was essentially confirmed at the end of The Umbrella Academy season 1 but is re-confirmed here. In the original comic book, the planet is destroyed midway through volume 2 “Dallas” when Hazel and Cha-Cha detonate a nuke they stole from Reginald Hargreeves’s stash. Thankfully in this season, just as in “Dallas,” The Umbrella Academy makes it safely back in time and gets a chance to undo things.

For organizational purposes here is where each member of The Umbrella Academy lands in the early 1960s, along with what movie is playing on the local cinema’s marquee:

February 11, 1960 – Klaus and Ben –  The movie is Curse of the Undead.

1961 – Allison – The movie is The Curse of the Werewolf.

1962 – Luther – Movie not visible.

September 1, 1963 – Diego – Movie not visible.

October 12, 1963 – Vanya – The movie is Kiss of the Vampire.

November 25, 1963 – Five – Movie is still Kiss of the Vampire.

The song playing during this latest apocalypse is Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.”

This thrilling series finale-esque apocalypse sequence also provides viewers with a decent reminder of what each Umbrella siblings’ power is:

Vanya uses sound to generate enormous, explosive power. 

Klaus can communicate with the dead and in this instance is even able to summon the ghosts of U.S. soldiers to do battle against the Soviets.

Luther is super strong. And surprisingly flame retardant. 

Ben (still dead) is able to produce monstrous tentacles from his stomach. In the comic series it is explained that he summons monsters from another dimension. 

Allison quite literally possesses the power of suggestion. Her phrase “I heard a rumor” bewitches whoever hears it to do what she says. 

Diego is super accurate with knives and seemingly takes his combat training more seriously than anyone in the Academy. In the comics, Diego  is able to survive without breathing but for the second season in the row that appears to have not made it to the TV show. “You got Jason Momoa doing that a hundred times better anyway,” David Castañeda told Den of Geek during a set visit. 

Number Five can travel through time but obviously rather imprecisely. He uses that power on a smaller scale to pop through space-time during fist fights.

Hazel makes his triumphant and brief return to the series…looking somewhere between Nick Offerman and Gandalf. He likes to call Five “old-timer” because despite having his childhood body, Five is actually in his late ‘50s. 

This time around, the world will end on November 25, 1963 – notably three days after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas. 

Diego trots out a Star Wars joke about Luke Skywalker’s daddy issues that obviously no one in the asylum is able to understand, with Star Wars 14 years away from release. 

Diego’s friend at the hospital is new character Lila, played by Ritu Arya. Lila has no comparable character in the comic series and is purely a show invention. Arya is best known for her work in Humans and Last Christmas.

Klaus and Ben were in San Francisco for three years before heading back to Dallas. In that time, Klaus started a cult. California was a hotspot for cults in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Klaus was a little ahead of the game. 

Allison is preparing to participate in a sit-in with her Black peers. As early as the ‘40s but chiefly during the ‘50s and early ‘60s, sit-ins were tactics used by Civil Rights organizers in which protesters would occupy an area and refuse to move. Some of the most famous sit-ins involved Black Americans sitting at lunch counters or tables in all-white restaurants and requesting service. As Dan Fienberg points out in his season 2 review, Civil Rights organizers had largely ceased this practice by 1963.

The song playing during Diego’s time in isolation is a cover of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” by Daniela Andrade.

The song playing as Diego and Lila escape is “Comin’ Home Baby” by Mel Tormé. 

Luther is working for Jack Ruby – an unlikely important figure in American history. Ruby was a well-known nightclub owner in Dallas who was tied to mob activities such as illegal gambling, drugs, and prostitution. On November 24, 1963 (one day before the world “ends”), Ruby approached JFK’s killer Lee Harvey Oswald as police were escorting him from prison to court and fatally shot him at close range. 

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 2: The Frankel Footage

The title of this episode is clearly a take on “The Zapruder Film.” The Zapruder Film is footage of the JFK assassination recorded by Texas clothing manufacturer Abraham Zapruder. It is believed to be the most complete visual documentation of the JFK assassination and was used by the Warren Commission that investigated the asssassination. It’s also become fodder for conspiracy theories.

In the reality of The Umbrella Academy, The Frankel Footage is what Hazel slipped into Five’s pocket before he died. It documents JFK’s motorcade from the perspective of Dan and Ethel Frankel on Dealey Plaza. The Frankel Footage uncovers none other than Reginald Hargreeves holding an umbrella on the grassy knoll. 

Interestingly, “The Umbrella Man” is a real figure in the complicated lore of the JFK assassination. A figure holding a black umbrella appears in the Zapruder film and at one point spins his umbrella as the President’s motorcade passes by. This led to theories that, among other things, the umbrella man was a CIA plant who signaled to Lee Harvey Oswald via his umbrella to fire the fatal shots. In reality, the Umbrella Man was discovered to be Louie Steven Witt in 1978. Witt said he brought the umbrella to the motorcade to heckle Kennedy. Kennedy’s father Joe had been a fan of Nazi-appeasing British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. A black umbrella was Chamberlain’s trademark accessory. 

The Handler lives! A bullet to the head doesn’t do as much damage as one would think on The Umbrella Academy. “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” from Cinderella plays as The Handler is spared from the incinerator. 

The Handler’s boss at the Commission is a goldfish in a tank atop an otherwise human body. His name is “A.J.” and later on it’s revealed his last name is “Carmichael.” This comes directly from The Umbrella Academy comic where the head of the “Temps Aeternalis” is revealed to be a shubunkin goldfish named Carmichael. 

“Well it finally happened – that gorilla DNA took over your mind,” Five tells Luther. This quick aside confirms that Reginald utilized gorilla DNA to save Luther’s life after a mission gone wrong. 

“Who’s Diego?” Elliot (Kevin Rankin) asks Five. “Imagine Batman and then aim lower,” Five responds. 

When Klaus meets one of his old followers in a holding cell and the follower asks for words of wisdom, Klaus replies with “Don’t go chasing waterfalls. Stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to.” This is a lyric from TLC’s 1995 song “Waterfalls.” 

All the “Children of the Prophet” have “Hello” and “Goodbye” tattooed or scribbled on either palm. This is in reference to Klaus’s tattoos of the same nature. In the comics, Klaus’s callsign is “The Seance” and those tattoos mimic the setup of most Ouija boards. 

Reginald Hargreeves owns D.S. Umbrella in Dallas. We see him open this business in the enigmatic opener of The Umbrella Academy season 1’s final episode. That episode also seemed to suggest that he’s an alien. 

Baby Pogo makes his first appearance! Pogo is a chimpanzee with the intelligence of a human. He was Hargreeves’s steadfast friend and probably the only positive influence in the young Hargreeves children’s lives. He was killed by Vanya in season 1. 

Five finds an invitation to Hargreeves from the Consulate of Mexico and one Mr. Hoyt Hillenkoetter. Roscoe Henry Hillenkoetter was the first director of the CIA in real life. 

The song playing as Diego fights his father is “I’m a Man” by Spencer Davis Group.

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 3: The Swedish Job

“The Swedish Job” is likely a reference to the classic ‘60s action film (and its 2003 remake) The Italian Job.

Let’s talk about The Swedes a little more. The Swedes are not present in the Umbrella Academy comic book. They fill a similar role to what Hazel and Cha-Cha do in the second volume of the comic as agents of The Commission (or Temps Aeternalis in the book). But with the show having burned Hazel and Cha-Cha on season 1, it likely needed a replacement here. Most assassins in the Commission are colorful characters so The Swede’s pale weirdness makes enough sense. 

“Sunny” by Boney M. plays over the opening montage of Klaus’s time as a cult leader.

Five is tracking soundwaves at Morty’s as that’s a surefire way to find Vanya. 

The man holding a “The End is Nigh” sign is certainly an homage to Watchmen. Watchmen was influential for Umbrella Academy writer Gerard Way…and just about everyone else. 

The Handler’s outfit as she intimidates a child at a pet shop closely resembles ‘60s fashion popularized by Jackie Onassis Kennedy – fitting given this season’s focus. 

Five’s coffee obsession continues apace in this episode. 

Klaus meets Dave, the love of his life, at Glenoak’s Hardware. Klaus had previously traveled to the 1960s in season 1 where he joined the Vietnam war effort and fell in love with fellow soldier Dave. Dave obviously has no recollection of it as it hasn’t happened for him yet. Or maybe it never will…time travel is weird. 

The song playing at episode’s end is “Golden Brown” by The Stranglers. 

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 4: The Majestic 12

“The Majestic 12” is a real organization…or purported to be real by conspiracy theorists. It’s said that The Majestic 12 was created by Harry S. Truman in 1947 and made up of scientists, military leaders, and government officials to investigate alien spacecraft. Elliot describes the Majestic 12 as a “shadow government.” Of course Reginald Hargreeves would be a part of it.

The Handler recovered young Lila in London, England in 1993. She appears to be about four years old at that time. If so, that would put her birth year at a very significant…1989.

The music budget this season continues to be insane. The song playing as Klaus falls back into alcoholism and addiction is Styx’s “Renegade.” Obviously.

Luther is enjoying some Texas barbecue when he encounters Allison again. This leads to two relevant points.

Texas barbecue is the best in the country.

With Luther’s increased appreciation for food, The Umbrella Academy season 2 is paying slight homage to the comic’s “Fat Luther” storyline. Following the events of the first comic volume, Luther becomes complacent, depressed, and ultimately, obese. “There’s certainly a nod to that in this season,” Tom Hopper told Den of Geek. “There was a question mark over the fact that Thor did the whole thing already (in Avengers: Endgame.”

Diego meets his mother at the swanky Dallas party. When Diego and his siblings knew “Grace,” she was merely a robot created by Reginald. Here she is a living, breathing woman who knows her date by “Reggie.” 

Harlan has a sparrow toy. Make note of this as sparrow imagery pops up a few times this season. Birds are all over The Handler’s clothing choices for instance. That ends up being tremendously relevant to the conclusion of season 2. 

Sissy and Vanya share a kiss and then more. Vanya is the second confirmed LGBTQ Umbrella Academy member. “Having that be such a big part of the show and Vanya’s life is exciting for me,” Ellen Page told Den of Geek. 

Luther just flat out loves drugs now. After his LSD trip in season 1, he follows that up with nitrous this season. That leads to this hilarious exchange with Elliot:

“My dad died too. He left me on the moon.” *howling, uncontrollable laughter*

The song at episode’s end is “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by KISS. 

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 5: Valhalla

The episode’s title is named after “Valhalla,” a majestic hall ruled over by Odin in Asgard in Norse mythology. 

Poor Pogo was a space monkey. The United States, U.S.S.R., and France launched dozens of primates into space from 1948 through 1996 (!!!) to test space flight’s effects on humanity’s close cousins. When Pogo’s space flight went poorly, Reginald appears to have resurrected him with a similar serum to which he gave Luther. Is it possible that Luther got gorilla DNA and Pogo got human DNA?

Luther took a bus trip to see his father in the ‘60s. And the map that displays Luther’s trip offers up an interesting clue as to the whereabouts of The Umbrella Academy. The Umbrella Academy is filmed in Toronto though it’s never mentioned what city Toronto is standing in for in the show. In the comics it’s known as only “The City.” Here, Luther’s bus ride seems to end around Indianapolis of all places. It seems as though The Umbrella Academy is in the Midwest. 

Ambrosia was a gelatinous fruit salad popular in the ‘60s. It was and is an affront to humanity. 

The team’s breakdown of the many ways they could have destroyed the timeline is amusing to say the least:

“Diego has been stalking Lee Harvey Oswald.” – Luther

“You’ve been working for Jack Ruby!” – Diego

“Allison has been very involved in local politics.” – Klaus 

“Ok, you started a cult.” – Allison 

“I’m just a nanny on a farm. I don’t have anything to do with all of that.” – Vanya

“Face it. The only healthy relationship in this family is when Five was banging that mannequin,” Klaus says. This is a reference to Five’s mannequin lover, Dolores, from his time alone in the post-apocalypse future. 

Klaus, Allison, and Vanya dance to Sam Cooke’s “Twistin’ the Night Away.” 

The song playing as Five and Lila fight is a ska cover of Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” by The Interrupters. 

The song playing as the two surviving Swedes consign their fallen brother to Valhalla is a cover of Adele’s “Hello” by Swedish artist My Kullsvik.

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 6: A Light Supper

Reginald invites his “pursuers” to 1624 Magnolia Street, Dallas. This address appears to be a parking lot currently. 

“So there was a Black president?” Raymond asks Allison of the future. There was indeed, Ray.

“Hold on I’m Coming” by Sam and Dave plays as Allison and Ray have their day out on the town. 

“Sixteen years in the grave and you finally turned into your father,” Klaus tells Ben. Given the Hargreeves’s 1989 birth year and 2019 current year of the show, Ben must have been around 14 when he died. 

Dave has already signed up for the Army ahead of schedule, suggesting that the Hargreeves’ presence in 1963 really is altering the timeline. 

The song playing as the Hargreeves approach their Tiki Lounge meeting is “The Order of Death” by Public Image Ltd.

Ben can now officially inhabit Klaus. This is an evolution of Klaus’s power of being able to communicate with the dead. Robert Sheehan said of this development: “(Klaus) can’t be as selfish anymore because (Ben) has this thing over me that he can do. We have a lot of fun with it and stuff, but it’s kind of about sobriety. I think Klaus and Ben’s relationship is entirely about sobriety versus addiction, for somebody who’s lived with addiction for so long.”

As Five will tell Luther and Diego in episode 7, Öga for  Öga is Swedish for “An eye for an eye.”

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 7: Öga for Öga

A candy bar in the vending machine in 1982 Oshkosh, Wisconsin is a “Pogos-Gogos.” Pogo was likely a famous pop culture figure due to his space flight…and ability to speak English.

When Five takes an axe to the Commission executive board in 1982 Wisconsin, it’s hard not to think of American Psycho. Aiden Gallagher is a dead ringer for a young Patrick Bateman.

The song playing as Ben experiences life in Klaus’s body is “Sister of Pearl” by Baio.

We find out the name of Klaus’s cult is “Destiny’s Children.” Klaus is really working his knowledge of ‘90s R&B groups here.

The song playing as Allison battles The Swedes is “Everybody” by Backstreet Boys.

“I heard a rumor you killed your brother,” Allison tells one of the two remaining Swedes. It’s not clear why she assumes that they are brothers. But the fact that the lead Swede follows through means that Allison was correct. Otherwise The Swede would have hopped on a plane to seek out his real brother to kill.

“It was a simple task – just be here! We didn’t have to kill a giant sea serpent, fight off an army of mutants,” Five says of his team’s failure to rendezvous at the right time to escape the ’60s. The “kill a giant sea serpent” could be a reference to a brief moment in the comic’s one-off issue “But the Past Ain’t Through With You.” Sometime in the past, The Umbrella Academy defeated a sea serpent that attacked Japan because it was insulted that a toy-maker make unlicensed plush toys of it.

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 8: The Seven Stages

The FBI does have an office in Dallas but it’s about 10 miles away from Dealey Plaza and not directly behind the grassy knoll as depicted here. Or at least that’s what they want you to think…

Vanya is able to reflexively answer the FBI questioner back in Russian because Reginald Hargreeves was a strict teacher of foreign languages to The Umbrella Academy. 

Grace finds photos of Fidel Castro, Lyndon B. Johnson, JFK, and a map of his motorcade route in Reggie’s files. This is a clear indication to her that Reggie is involved in an upcoming attempt against the President’s life. Grace also sees plans for a “televator.” This is the elevator teleportation device Reginald will one day build.

There are five stages of grief but apparently seven stages of side effects from confronting one’s self in the same timeline. Five lists them out thusly:

1. Denial

2. Itching

3. Extreme Thirst and Urination

4. Excessive Gas

5. Acute Paranoia

6. Uncontrolled Perspiration

7. Homicidal Rage

As Vanya begins her LSD trip, the song that plays is “Pepper” by Butthole Surfers. Some of the lyrics are particularly apt for this season – “they were all in love with dying, they were doing it in Texas.”

Diego discovers that Vanya will be the cause of the apocalypse yet again in 1963, which makes an argument that The Umbrella Academy operates under Devs-style determinism.

Around the 23-minute mark someone holding a Cha-Cha mask can be seen off in the distance at Commission HQ. The individual’s face can’t be seen but it’s not out of the question that this could be Cha-Cha. Commission assassins appear to age in an unusual manner. Alternatively this could be an assassin who donned the cartoonish helmet before Cha-Cha. Showrunner Steve Blackman says that either interpretation is valid: “In the Commission, it’s always 1963, but it never changes time. So that very well could have been Cha-Cha holding the mask.”

In her LSD nightmare, Vanya is chastised by Reginald for wanting to live “a silly life on a silly farm.” One of the issues of “Dallas” is titled “A Perfect Life” and deals partly with Luther imagining a tranquil domestic life with Allison. 

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 9: 743

The episode gets its name from the case number in which Five executed Lila’s parents on The Handler’s orders.

Klaus references Antonio Banderas in complimenting Diego’s hair. Diego is legitimately touched. 

Much of this episode takes place in or around Dealey Plaza – the location where John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The sections of note in Dealey Plaza are the book depository where Lee Harvey Oswald fired his rifle from and the grassy knoll where some people believe a second shooter shot JFK. The Umbrella Academy doesn’t make a trip to the book depository but does briefly show the grassy knoll with Reggie Hargreeves and his umbrella. Luther and the two Fives spend most of their time in a parking lot behind the grassy knoll.

Fittingly, the song that plays as young Five fights old Five is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Idol’s band Generation X.

Much of Vanya’s acid trip is set to Bach’s “Partita No. 2 in D Minor” on violin. There is a lot of violin imagery as well. This is fitting given Vanya’s aptitude for the instrument. She receives the villainess name “White Violin” in the comic series.

“Dad treated you like a bomb before you were one,” Ben tells Vanya.  The final issue of The Umbrella Academy Volume 1 is titled “Finale, Or, Brothers and Sisters, I Am an Atomic Bomb.”

Ben also tells Vanya he died “17 years ago” which seems at odds with Klaus’s declaration that Ben died “16 years ago.” Klaus and Ben have been in Dallas for three years though, so Ben died 19-20 years ago, depending on who is right. The year is also 1963 so Ben technically won’t die for another 42 or 43 years. Time travel is weird. 

Luther and Young Five send Old Five back to the very start of The Umbrella Academy series, which avoids a truly mind-bending number of paradoxes. 

Though it was teased in the show’s first season, Reginald Hargreeves reveals himself to be well and truly an alien in the final moments of this episode. Reggie unzips his skin mask, discards it, and then violently murders his Majestic 12 colleagues at the Tiki Lounge for them killing Kennedy against his wishes. This is a bit of information that the comic book is shockingly upfront about, casually revealing on the series’ second-ever page that Hargreeves is an alien and never addressing it further. 

Before they’re slaughtered, the Majestic 12 claim that Reggie has interests on the dark side of the Moon. Perhaps Luther’s trip to the moon wasn’t pointless after all. 

The episode concludes with a new song from Umbrella Academy creator and My Chemical Romance frontman Gerard Way called “Here Comes the End.”

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Episode 10: The End of Something

This is the first time we’ve seen Ben’s funeral. His little casket is covered with squid iconography – a tribute to his power. 

The Umbrella Academy are now all suspects in JFK’s death. That’s bound to change the timeline, right? Indeed it probably does based on this episode and the season’s conclusion. It’s also interesting just how inherently suspicious each member of the Umbrella Academy would be to 1963 society. Vanya has an Eastern European-sounding name and can speak Russian. Diego is Cuban. Allison is a Black revolutionary. Luther is an enormous bare-knuckle brawler. Klaus is a cult leader. All intimidating stuff. 

The army of Commission goons that The Handler summons to take care of the Umbrella team is full of colorful masks and helmets a la Hazel and Cha-Cha. 

On our set visit for The Umbrella Academy season 2, Five actor Aiden Gallagher revealed that several characters would discover “sub-powers” Gallagher said: “I was talking to Steve (Blackman) about this, and how it works is in season one, we sort of get hints about all the characters powers and in season two, we really see more so the extent how far that can go. How different elements of each character’s powers actually means that they have this sub-power.” Diego seems to come across a subpower in this final battle when he appears to be able to stop bullets. Blackman explains the power thusly:

“If you think about Diego’s power, he can, with his mind, control trajectory of objects. Basically he likes throwing, so he can throw his knife and he can make it go in weird, odd curvatures and directions. All of them stopped their training in their adolescence when the family broke up, and they are still learning about their powers and their powers are still evolving. As I go through seasons we’ll see more of that. But moving a knife through the air – an extension of that is then being able to manipulate bullets through the air.”

Speaking of powers, Lila appears to have…well, all of them. Lila displays Vanya’s power, Allison’s power, and Five’s power in fights with each of them. But as Klaus, likely correctly, theorizes later, Lila can only mirror one of their powers at a time. Her ability is mimicry. Diego surmises that this means Lila is one of them – one of the 43 children born on October 1, 1989. That’s why The Handler went out of her way to kill her parents and adopt her. 

Allison leaves a letter for Ray in a copy of Jules Verne’s From the Earth to the Moon. A fitting book for the story of The Umbrella Academy and this season. 

The song playing during the closing montage is a cover of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Games” by Parra for Cuva featuring Anna Naklab.

Luther calls Jack Ruby, presumably to convince him not to kill Lee Harvey Oswald. But Jack has already picked up his gun. 

Ah, The Sparrow Academy. We delved deep into what the ending of The Umbrella Academy season 2 means over here. For now, know that The Sparrow Academy is likely lifted from Volume 3 of The Umbrella Academy comics, “Hotel Oblivion.” We say “likely” because the team doesn’t have an official name but it does invoke a lot of Sparrow imagery. The Sparrow Academy turns up at the very end of volume “Hotel Oblivion.” In the show, The Sparrow Academy seems to exist in an alternate universe created by The Umbrella Academy’s actions in Dallas. In the comic, it is implied that they are simply seven other extraordinary children born on October 1, 1989. This could prove to be the case in the show as well…save for Ben Hargreeves, who we are obviously already familiar with. 

The post The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Complete Easter Egg and Reference Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[sweetxchloe]

📱Chloe ↔️ Luca

Tagging: Chloe Lynn & Luca Motta ( @doveportluca​ ) When: April 9, 2020  Notes: Discord Text thread!

Chloe: hey Luca! What time are you free from work tomorrow?

Luca: I don't work at all tomorrow, I get off at 9pm tonight though.

Chloe: Do you usually have Fridays off?

Luca: No, but since I worked New Years and every other holiday since, I was given Good Friday off

Chloe: Are you going to church?

Luca: I was going to look for one tomorrow morning see if I could find a service to go to, since I'm not going to be home. Are you going to church?

Chloe: There’s that one pretty looking church near downtown but I don’t know what type of church it is. And I wasn’t planning on it... but I can go with you if you want? I get home at 4:30

Luca: I'll see what kind of services the churches are offering and let you know, but we don't have to go to church if you don't want, you can always just come over and hang out. I don't work all weekend - I booked it off.

Chloe: You get an actual weekend! When was the last time you had that and wasn’t traveling or busy with family? Chloe: I really don’t mind going to church. I would go with my parents sometimes so it’s not out of the ordinary for me

Luca: LOL a long time, I have to admit. I think maybe when I moved here? But even then I was doing stuff. Luca: Well, I'll see what's happening then. Would you rather go to the Good Friday service or the Easter Sunday one?

Chloe: Luca!! You really need more you time! This weekend is a start and you should get as much rest as possible. Also you’re coming here tomorrow! Would you like for me to get a bath set up for you to soak in? Or is that weird to offer? Chloe: Hmm I think everyone will be at the Sunday one so Good Friday would be better

Luca: No that's PERFECT to offer, oh my god. I'll bring us some good wine to drink, and maybe some lasagna? Luca: Okay, I'll keep you updated tomorrow about the service and the times

Chloe: Oh good! I didn’t know if you would have thought it weird to take a bath in my house

Luca: As long as you're not going to record it, or anything. Luca: Why would it be weird? It's a bath. It's like you having a shower at my place.

Chloe: I knoooow.  [...] Chloe: Can I be honest with you about something?

Luca: Of course

Chloe: Ok.....So, I don't know how to start with this so I'm just going to say it and hopefully it makes sense. I like spending time with you. I like the chances we get to hang out. I like you want to teach me how to cook and that snow globe you got me is on my dresser and I smile everytime I see it. I want to spend more time with you and I'm in a place where I think I want to start to actually date and not just do hangouts. And...gah. You probably think I'm crazy or flighty. But I'm just scared of hurting you because I don't want to hurt you. I really, really like you.

Luca: I don't think you're crazy or flighty, and I really hope you're not mad at me or went all spazzy because work got busy. But, I'm all yours for the rest of the night. Chloe, I'm a man in my 30's, I've been hurt before. Besides, I don't think you're going to hurt me and we don't need to go fast. I really like you and enjoy the time we spend together, and I'd like to date you. I just didn't want to rush you.

Chloe: Omg no! I wasn’t mad at you at all!! I know you have such a busy schedule and probably so much on your plate. Which is why when you said you wanted me to come to you about things I felt like I would bother you when you have more important things going on. Chloe: the thing is I want to kiss you and do a little more with you but I also know that that’s something you don’t do with someone unless you’re really comfortable with them. And I don’t want you to feel pressured by me:

Luca: Chloe, you are important to me. I want to know about what makes you happy, or sad. If you're going down the street and see a dog in a top hat. I want to know what's on your mind if you'll let me - because you're important to me. Luca: I wouldn't say I want to date you if I wasn't ready to kiss you and touch you. We might have to wait for sex, but I'm willing to explore foreplay with you. I don't feel pressured by you, but I don't want you thinking that I don't desire you either.

Chloe: You made me laugh so much with the dog with the top hat. It’d be so cute I’d cry first and then tell you about it  Chloe: I’m completely fine with waiting. It’s not even that that I’m craving. Not that I wouldn’t be against finding out how it is for us if we get there. You’re the first demisexual guy I’ve been out with and I want to be mindful of that. Chloe: I want to keep seeing you. After tomorrow night and see where it takes us

Luca: I like to hear that Luca: Thank you, Chloe. For being so understanding with me, I appreciate it. I've run into people in the past that haven't been as understanding and empathetic. 

Luca: I'm happy with that, more than happy.

Chloe: I do feel like I need to be honest with you about something. Did I ever tell you about my old best friend?

Luca: You mentioned him once or twice, but nothing in great enough detail for me to really remember in depth

Chloe: His name’s Brad. We grew up together. He was my next door neighbor. We went to elm, middle and high school together and were inseparable. We even went to school dances as each other’s dates but it’s always been as friends. People kept waiting for us to get together but it never happened. When I moved to Houston it was really hard because I was away from the world I grew up with and I missed my friends. Especially him. Chloe: he surprised me with a visit as soon as we settled into the new house and we went in this road trip we always talked about. It was during this trip we hooked up and were that way for a month. We talked about telling our parents were dating and he confessed he loves me and had been in love with me. It felt right with him, something I hadn’t had with any other person I’ve dated. When we got back he had to leave suddenly so we didn’t talk to my parents and after some time of hardly talking to him and he not returning my calls or messages or anything...I felt heartbroken. I’m still dealing with that pain because anytime I feel I can have something meaningful with someone that pain presses into my heart. Chloe: During Spring Break I saw him at a bar and it was as if all those promises and pain and years of hurt and anger and tears came back and I went up to him and punched him. It was such a reactive and stupid thing but I punched him. And maybe more. Part of that is kinda blurred because I was so pissed! Chloe: and since then he’s been texting and calling me. Full of apologies and how he is an idiot and with all these excuses.  Chloe: but I want you to know about all of that to kind of understand why I get the way I do. And I know it’s a lot and I’m sorry

Luca: So THAT was who you punched. I was wondering.... Jesus, I don't blame you for giving him a right hook now. I want to beat him up for you now. Luca: Thank you for sharing that with me, Chlo. I know that wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but I'm glad you did. Luca: We can go at whatever pace you're comfortable you're with, and if you're ever unsure, or you need reassurance, you just need to ask. Even if you want to talk for hours on end, or need to ask me 5 times in a row... Do it. Because I'm not going anywhere, and I've been interested in you pretty much since the moment we started talking, I just didn't want to freak you out. So I won't pull a Brad, but I do want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk. Whether it's about him, anything bothering you, how you're feeling... I'm here. Luca: Sorry if that didn't make sense, I'm tired, but I really just want to give you a hug, so I rambled.

Chloe: it made sense to me. It’s not an easy story to share but I don’t want to keep you in the dark about things. I’m trying to be upfront so I don’t lead you on but I’m not sure what I’m doing at this point. Punching him made me feel better. Like a part of me was able to let that go. So with that I want to date and try to let someone in. But there is still that other part that has been through years of hurt and she’s not ready yet.  Chloe: I know Im rambling, especially when you said you’ll be patient but I just have so much on my mind and...yeah. That’s... it. Lol

Luca: Do you want to go for a walk? We can talk about it some more. If you want, of course.  Luca: And like I said, if that part of you starts coming out and she's not ready once we start seeing one another.. Then you just have to tell me. I'm okay with that. I want you to be comfortable, Chlo.

Chloe: Right now? Chloe: You’re really easy to talk to. I mean that. Sometimes I have to sit and think about what I’m going to say and I hate that. But not with you

Luca: If you want, I can grab us a coffee. Luca: That makes me happy. You're really easy to talk to too.

Chloe: you said you’re tired, Luca. Plus I’m sticky and covered in flour from baking so many cookies. Oh yeah! You’re getting a tin tomorrow!

Luca: Well then just know if you want to talk, we can tomorrow. Also, you good for a 7pm mass at Sacred Heart?

Luca: COOKIES.

Chloe: How about a phone call? That way it’s like we’re together but we’re not. It’ll need to be after I walk Luna and shower. Chloe: Yes!!! I’m super proud of my icing job on these. I’ve been practicing since Christmas Chloe: 7pm works for me! I haven’t been to a mass in awhile.

Luca: I can do that! Luca: Did you do royal icing? Luca: Perfect, I'll come by around 5 and we can have dinner together

Chloe: I did!! Chloe: *attaches pic*

Chloe: look at how cute they came out!

Luca: They're great! Also look really good too

Chloe: but I’m so tired! Chloe: ok. Give me like 30 mins and I’ll call you

Luca: You deserve a gold medal for how many you made  Luca: Talk to you soon, gorgeous.

#text: luca

[flaneur-folio]

How 30 Rock Would Handle Coronavirus, According to Tina Fey

30 Rock creator and star Tina Fey and writer Sam Means imagine what a coronavirus episode would look like for Liz, Tracy, Jack, Jenna, and TGS.

Tracy has already contracted and survived the virus (“My snakes eat bats and then I use my snakes to practice French kissing, so it was inevitable, Liz Lemon!”), so he would declare himself an immune “green person” and set out to help. Tracy: “Like Mister Rogers said, ‘Look like the helpers.’” So, dressed as a firefighter, he would volunteer his time delivering illegal box jellyfish to the elderly.

Jack would try to get Liz to go to the secret GE island off the coast of Connecticut: “It will just be the top executives, any wives under 40, and yes, Lauer will be there, but only because it was built into his deal years ago.” Liz refuses to go because of her desire to be egalitarian but also because everyone would probably be barefoot. Pass. She would shelter in place like nobody’s business and still somehow dodge sex with James Marsden.

Kenneth would be the most prepared, having grown up Eighth Day Resurrected Covenant of the Holy Trinity and observing its End of Days Countdown Calendar, which is different from most calendars. “For example, we’ve only had Christmas twice, but Easter is every four hours.” Jack would offer to buy Kenneth’s cupboard of canned chickpeas for a million dollars, but Kenneth would just give him two cans for free. “Hoarding is a sin, sir! Just like skateboarding or riding a horse you’re not related to!”

People would piece together that Pete actually disappeared ten days ago with all of the snacks and hand sanitizer from craft services.

Lutz would refuse to do social distancing because he believes this is “an election-year hoax.” He’d turn out to be the asymptomatic carrier that infected everyone at spring break even though he’s almost 60.

Jenna would be upset when a photo of her butt in jeans is used as a CDC “flatten the curve” meme. Also, she might try to blow Governor Cuomo. Also, she’d try to worm her way into that “Imagine” video.

Dr. Spaceman would be tapped to replace Dr. Fauci. Tr**p has been “very impressed” with Leo since 2002, when he helped rebuild Rush Limbaugh’s ears out of discarded prostates.

Dennis Duffy would be selling masks made out of foam St. Patrick’s Day visors. Personal protective equipment is so scarce that a doctor is seen on the news wearing a shamrock mask that reads “Fit Shaced!”

Frank would be freaking out because his awareness of social distancing is ruining porn for him. “I know they filmed this in the ’90s, but I can’t help feeling concerned for them.”

The cast of Queen of Jordan would all create competing PSAs that become increasingly catty to each other. D’fwan directs his “Stay Home” PSA directly at Portia because she upstaged his dog’s christening with the emergency recall of her new fragrance.

Hank Hooper would rather die than stop hugging people. RIP, sweet Hank Hooper.

How 30 Rock Would Handle Coronavirus, According to Robert Carlock

Carlock was an executive producer alongside creator Tina Fey for the entire run of the series, and wrote 26 episodes himself. He was also a writer and producer on Friends, and co-created Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt with Fey as well.

Jenna Maroney (Jane Krakowski) is definitely furious that she wasn't asked to be in a celebrity video about hand-washing. She tries to put together her own viral video where celebrities sing "Muffin Top" with new lyrics about how Covid-19 can be transferred through fecal matter. No one agrees to participate.

Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) gets a coveted invitation to do social distancing on Elon Musk's private space bus. He has to decline, however, when he learns that his ex-wife Bianca (Isabella Rossellini) will be there; he knows he cannot stay six feet away from her.

Tracy Jordan (Tracy Morgan) is named Secretary of Health and Human Services after giving millions of dollars to Republican PACs in order to "impress Kanye." He believes that if the virus started with bats, then the opposite of a bat will fix it. And what is the opposite of "bat"? "Tab," obviously. He makes sure that every American drinks too much Tab diet soda. It works.

Liz Lemon's (Tina Fey) vast stores of stockpiled hoagie provisions and a DVR full of something called "Cake Monsters" leave her, frankly, looking forward to a bit of social distancing.

#flaneurfolio #30rock

[missjanjie]

Ohana Means Family | Ninex

Summary: Hi! This is my secret santa gift for @artificialmeggie and im just like, surprisingly pleased w it so i decided to share it here too! Word Count: 2046 Rating: G

Read on AO3

“Christmas bells are ringing,” Nina sang as he strung lights around the tree. It was a miniature one - only around three feet tall - but that was all the landlord would allow. So, make the most of it he would. “Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing–”

“On TV – at SAKS.”

He turned around at the sound of the voice, smiling warmly at Monét. “You’re home early. Subway’s not delayed for once?”

Monét laughed and set his bag down on the coffee table. “Yeah, it’s a Christmas miracle if I’ve ever seen one.” He walked over and kissed Nina’s cheek, then looked over the tree with a nod of approval. “That’s gonna look so fucking fab.”

Nina beamed brightly and looped his arm around his waist. “With any luck, I’ll actually be satisfied with it by Christmas Eve,” he chuckled. “Is Bob picking up the twins?”

“Mhm, he just texted me that he’s on his way,” Monét confirmed, reading off of his phone. “You got everything else?”

“And not a moment too soon either, that sort of thing flies off the shelves this time of year, but it’ll be worth it to see their faces. We have to get it on camera, obviously,” Nina’s face lit up as he spoke, eyes wide with enthusiasm. But then he heard the front door open and his expression instantly changed to panic. “Hide the stuff!” he whispered harshly, grabbing the bag and shoving it back into Monét’s hands and all but pushing him out of the way.

Without a second to spare, Monét hid the evidence in the hall closet right before he heard two identical sets of footsteps running towards him.

Aside from getting married, adopting Ruby and Victoria was the best decision Nina and Monét has ever made. The pair were adopted by the couple at eighteen months old, and it was love at first sight. They were absolutely adorable with big, brown eyes and small dimples. Bob had even joked that they ‘looked like Vanjie’. But unlike their friend (or Uncle José as he was now called), the girls were very shy and reserved until they’d gotten acclimated to their Manhattan apartment.

Now, however, the girls were completely at home. They looked forward to returning to their dads every day after kindergarten, knowing there was always a warm embrace (and snacks) waiting for them. Of course, this was their last day before winter break, so the enthusiasm was increased ten-fold.

“We writed letters to Santa today!” Victoria announced proudly, her sister nodding in agreement and fishing through her Frozen-themed backpack to pull out her list - which was now crumpled and a bit ripped after its journey. She handed it over, along with her sister’s, with a bright, front-toothless grin.

Monét looked between the lists and laughed. “I told y’all, we aren’t allowed puppies in the apartment. Ask Santa again when we move out to the suburbs.” He was amused, but also excited. They didn’t mention anything like their big present, so it would catch them totally by surprise – which, naturally, was his and Nina’s goal. “Now, you two go wash up, Daddy left your snacks in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Papa!” they chirped in unison, taking their bags to their bedroom and hanging up their coats before washing their hands.

Once the girls were in the kitchen and out of earshot, Bob turned to Monét. “You got everything all set up? They’re gonna lose their minds.”

“You know it,” he beamed broadly. “We’ll FaceTime you on location.”

—————

“Okay, now these last gifts are from Papa and I, and we think you’ll like them very much,” Nina grinned as two identically wrapped presents were set in front of the twins. The wrapping job wasn’t perfect - they never got around to asking someone that knew what they were doing - but considering the twins tore it apart instantly, it didn’t really matter.

“Suitcases?” Ruby asked, tilting her head.

“Open them up,” Nina encouraged.

The twins, perplexed, obliged. But when they unzipped the luggage and found them already full, they were intrigued. They took out each item one at a time – sunscreen, bathing suits, autograph books, Mickey Mouse sunglasses, costumes of their respective favorite characters. They were curious and seemed to be enjoying their gifts, but not all of the puzzle pieces were fitting together just yet.

Nina glanced at Monét, then back at the girls. “Now, where do you think we should take these things?” he gently prompted, nudging his husband to start filming.

Ruby and Victoria looked at each other, the wheels turning and turning before it finally clicked and they shouted “Disney World!” in unison. Once they got the nod of confirmation from their dads, they burst into elated screaming and bouncing up and down, then finally running and giving them both big hugs. “When do we leave?” Victoria asked once the initial excitement died down.

“Next Friday!”

—————

“You really couldn’t get them in a coordinated look?” Bob had finally stopped laughing long enough to read Monét on the girls’ costume choices. “Come on, you have to admit the two of them next to each other looks hysterical.”

Monét huffed and rolled his eyes. “What do you want from us? Ruby wouldn’t go as Anna and Vick wouldn’t go as Lilo. So, we got Elsa and Stitch. More importantly, we got two happy five-year-olds that get to go to Disney World, we’re gonna take what we can get.”

Bob put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. But you gotta make that your Christmas card for next year.”

“Goodbye, Bob.” Monét shook his head and hung up. He looked over at the twins and - not that he would ever say as much - it was amusing to see the wildly different (save for the color scheme) costumes. Nina had told him that they should be happy that the girls were embracing their own interests and not adhering to liking the exact same things in the name of being ‘twin’ enough.

“Papa! Ruby bit me!”

“I’m being Stitch! Stitch bites!”

Okay, he thought. They better get going before someone got hurt. “Knock it off you guys, or we’re not going to the gift shop,” he warned as he ushered the girls downstairs to meet up with Nina, who was loading their things into the rental car.

Monét guided the two of them through the hall and into the elevator, then weaved their way through the lobby and into the parking garage where Nina was just closing the trunk. “Everything all set?”

“Good to go,” Nina beamed and gave a thumbs up. “Wait, wait, I have to take a picture.” He scrambled to get his phone out and gathered them up for a family selfie. “Okay, now we’re good to go.” Soon the girls were strapped into their car seats and they were on the road.

By the time they approached the park, the twins had started chanting in enthusiasm. “Disney! Disney! Disney!” All four of them were chanting by the time they’d pulled into the parking lot.

With a place like Disney World, there were so many things to do, it could be overwhelming figuring out where to begin.

“Let’s go down Main Street and take it from there,” Nina suggested. And with that, they embarked on their Disney adventure, stopping every few minutes to take pictures or point out interesting things. Nina took particular pride in all the trivia and Easter eggs he was able to talk about, whether or not anyone was actually paying attention.

The constant onslaught of distractions was probably what caused the subsequent events. Nina had stopped the family to watch the Dapper Dan Quartet, and after listening, he suggested they take a quick picture. But as he turned around, his expression dropped. “Kevin… where’s Ruby?”

“She’s right –” Monét furrowed his brows and looked around. There was only their Elsa, no Stitch. “Uh oh.” He briskly ushered the other two off to the side. “Vick, did you see your sister go anywhere?”

“Horsey.”

Her two dads exchanged perplexed expressions. “Horsey?”

“She sawed a horsey and wanted to go say ‘hi’,” Victoria explained matter-of-factly. It was probably for the best that she didn’t realize her sister was lost.

Nina took a deep breath, doing his best to stay calm. “She couldn’t have gotten far, let’s just go to guest services and find out where they can make an announcement.” He scooped the remaining girl in his arms as they made a beeline to the building.

“We need someone to make a missing child announcement. Her name is Ruby Bertin-Levitt, she looks identical to her, but in a Stitch costume,” Monét spoke quickly but firmly, gesturing to Victoria so whoever was searching knew exactly what to look for.

The young woman at the desk listened intently, and in a matter of minutes, an announcement was made throughout the park. “Have a seat right over there, I’m sure she’ll be here real quick.”

Nina sat down with Victoria on his lap. “Maybe you should go look for her too, the more hands on deck the better.”

Unsurprisingly, Monét was out the door before his husband had even finished the suggestion. “See, this is why we had child leashes when I was a kid. You don’t wander off when you can’t,” he remarked. There was no way in hell he was returning back without his daughter. He’d upend the whole park if he had to.

“Thank God she didn’t go as Anna,” he muttered to himself. “There’s gotta be five hundred fucking Annas here.” He’d always embraced how Ruby was the less conventional of the two, but he never thought it would come in handy, definitely not like this.

He was only about five minutes into his search when his phone went off. “Hello? What happened? Did you find her?”

“We got her, bring it in.”

Monét turned on his heel and bolted back into the guest service building. He was greeted with a sight that almost made him burst out laughing.

Ruby was standing there, not with Nina or Victoria, not even someone on the park’s security team. Instead, she was standing and smiling with a Stormtrooper as if they were best friends.

“Apparently she thought they were part of the ‘robot police team’,” Nina explained before he could even ask.

“I said I needed to find my Ohana,” she nodded proudly.

He chuckled and picked her up, thanking the person profusely before they left to go back to their designated route. “Well, we’re very glad to have you back. You got us all worried.”

She hid her head in the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry, Papa.”

“It’s okay, we’re just glad you’re safe,” he assured.

“Can we go on the small world ride now?” Victoria chimed in. To her, the whole ordeal only cut into her ride time. She looked over at her sister, who was excitedly nodding in agreement.

Nina and Monét looked at each other and laughed softly. “Okay, let’s go.” They all re-entered Main Street, this time with a much closer eye kept on both girls. “You two hold hands,” he added. “And stay where we can see you!”

All chaos aside, their first day of vacation was an overall success. Their arms were full of souvenirs and camera rolls full of new memories.

“Next time just put trackers on them,” Bob had suggested with a laugh when the story was relayed to him.

Monét rolled his eyes before looking over at his daughters, who were cuddled up on the couch and winding down for the night with a movie. “Oh shut up. We’re all gonna look back and talk about how it brought us all closer one day.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s Disney, the cheesiness is what makes it fun,” he looked over at Nina, who was sorting through which souvenirs were their own and which were for family and friends.

But then Nina looked up and their eyes met, and he smiled that room-lighting smile. And Monét's heart skipped a beat the same way it always had when he was with his husband, with the warmth and adoration that he’d shared with the man for so long. In the same way he knew it always would be. Because, well, ohana.

#ninex #ninex fic #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction

[unfairaddiction]

Sharky x F!Rook

Follow Dep and Sharky as they go from strangers to enemies to best friends to lovers. Idk how long Eden's Gate was in Hope County, but it sounds like they were there for awhile and I imagine in the beginning people didn't really mind there presence.

And I just like the idea of the Dep being kind of involved with the Project and just being in the dark about their activities.

You know she went to the local high school

Probably one of those kids that didn't belong in a group.

She was one of those kids that floated around from group to group.

Still an overall good kid, not really in the party scene and not really a rule breaker.

Sharky was always getting into trouble and wasn't a great student.

The Deputy was and they ran in completely different circles.

Didn't stop the Dep from having a major crush on him in high school though.

Rook always felt like she was missing out, and Sharky was, in her mind, living his best life and she wasn't.

Sharky probably didn't even know rook existed, if he did he always figured she was one of the goody two shoes, not really his type.

Sharky remembers the first time he actually saw rook tho.

He was running from the cops after he lit a fire somewhere nearby and Rook was probably studying outside.

He had nowhere to go but into the tree she was sitting under, and the wide eyed look she was giving him told him there was no way she hadn't seen him.

He scrambled into the tree, fully prepared to fight from his perch.

The cops came sprinting around the corner as Sharky settled into his tree, getting pinecones ready to hurl at the cops.

"Rook!" Everyone knows everyone in Hope County. "Did Boshaw come this way?"

Sharky never thought that a good nerd like Rook would ever lie to the police.

"He ran that way!" Rook cried and pointed deeper into the woods.

Cue the Deputy's giving chase because Rook would NEVER LIE.

So Sharky takes her out as a 'thanks for not turning me in' and she has her first drink, shitty moonshine, sitting on the hood of Sharky's rusty pickup,that has her laughing too loud and has her stumbling over her words.

Its funny to see Rook, who is usually so put together, drunk off her ass.

Sharky sees her in that moment, that she's just as lonely as he is, and for a minute he doesn't feel so alone.

"I jussssst sssseee you laughing and you-you've got people ya-you know ?" Rook rambles. "I don't have people. I-I've got a f-fu-future, I've got no time for people. That's what my dad say-says anyway."

Sharky's a little drunk too, and he kisses her while she rambles, and there's some fumbled over the shirt action.

Sharky's mouth though, finds a way to cock block himself.

"I always thought you were kind of a nerd, you know, you're actually kinda hot in the right light." And it really wasn't what he meant to say.

And Rook recoils almost instantly, and she's hurt, and the alchohol only makes it worse, so runs away into the Montana wilderness.

Rook really should be smarter than that, but she's drunk and her feelings are hurt so she runs.

Sharky feels bad and he really planned on running after her but a the self doubt tells him to just leave her alone and that he needs to sleep off the moonshine.

Rook makes it to the road, and she doesn't WANT to hitchhike, but she can barely walk straight and she can't go home when she's drunk.

Her parents would not be pleased, and she knows her father might hit her and her mom would give her that disapproving look.

So she walks along the, mostly, deserted road, not expecting anyone to come by.

She's met Joseph Seed a couple of times, but she's only met John in passing.

John offers to drive her home, because he can see she's drunk.

And she's a talkative drunk so she tells him that she can't and she's afraid of what her parents will do.

And John is sympathetic, or at least he appears to be, because he's been there, and he sees the perfect recruitment opportunity here.

So he let's Rook stay the night at the ranch to sleep it off, provided she agree to some volunteer work for the church.

It's not a bad deal all things considered, her parents wouldn't be looking for her in the morning, they wouldn't be surprised if she 'left early' for school, and she knows they aren't worried about her now since her phone isn't going off, so she goes with John.

When Rook is in her right mind she tells herself how stupid it was to trust John, a man she barely knows.

Luckily for her, this is before the cult is torturing people enough to be a known fact.

Her parents are fairly religious, not go to church every week religious more like quote the bible when its convenient and going to services on Christmas and Easter.

So they are thrilled when she gets involved with the church.

Sharky feels bad and he wants to apologize but now Rook is always surrounded by the kids whose parents are in Eden's Gate.

Eden's Gate is really what sets Rook on the path to being a Deputy.

Joseph who always seems to know everything essentially tells her what she should do, and Rook who desperately wants to belong somewhere does what he says.

She's a teenager and Joseph is the first person whose like 'hey, u don't ACTUALLY have to be perfect all the time its ur intentions that matter'

So Eden's Gate becomes a home away from home for her, because she may not really belong among the overzealous believers and she can't really be herself but they come when she calls, and they ask her how she's doing.

She doesn't talk about that night with Sharky though, she told John when she was still drunk and crying but he hasn't brought it up.

She still misses that connection she had with him but she's decided that it was probably the alchohol and not a real thing.

Sharky drops out of school and Rook graduates, top of her class, and she joins the sheriff's department.

She and Sharky work on opposite sides of the law.

Rook is the only one that can bring Sharky in without Sharky putting up too much of a fight.

He's still kind of a jerk to her and the more she arrests him the more aggressive he is.

"You the big bad law now? You think you're so much better than me? Just cause you've got that degree don't mean you're better than me."

Sharky never brings up that time she helped him escape from the lawmen chasing him.

She asks him why once.

"I ain't no snitch. You helped me out, I repaid the favor. We're square." And that was the last time they ever talked about it.

Rook isn't as involved with the church anymore, but she still answers when John/Jacob/Faith/Joseph call.

When things go to shit and Rook recruits Sharky they become begrudging allies against the cult.

"I thought you were like sucking John's dick, I don't blame you he's kind of hot, I get it."

"Shut the fuck up Boshaw."

They slowly become friends, because they actually have a lot in common.

We see their friendship in game, and I can easily see it turning into something more romantic.

Because let's be honest, Sharky likes to joke and flirt with Rook, and Rook maybe starts to think that Sharky was the friend she needed.

Eden's Gate helped her when she was young, but she was pressured to join this group that ended up being this cult.

And Sharky feels bad about pushing her away because she could have been this amazing influence on his life, at the time.

He especially feels bad because she never would have been involved with Eden's Gate if he had her back that night instead of letting her run into the wilderness.

But, you know they forgive each other and they become crime fighting buds and they have this beautiful relationship based on trust and mutual respect for each other and their experiences.

That got long lol, this has been in my drafts forever but I wanted to post it cause I like the idea of it, I'm just a bad writer.

#far cry 5 #sharky boshaw x deputy #sharky boshaw #i love sharky #the deputy #can u tell I've never been drunk b4

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “An Egg-cellent Disaster” (Rated PG13)

Sebastian suffers a bout of PTSD when Isabelle invites Kurt and their family to an upscale egg hunt. (3308 words)

Notes: This isn't a re-write, but I wrote one similar for K*laine.

Part 38 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“Ugh. Can you get PTSD from an Easter egg hunt? I’m asking for a friend,” Sebastian says, glancing over his shoulder as he leads his husband, his son, and his son’s service dog towards the swankiest gathering of New York’s elite that he’s seen in a long time. This isn’t normally how they spend Easter, and if it were up to him, they would have done what they always do – color eggs and hide them around their house, bake Kurt’s mom’s special braided Easter bread, sit on the sofa and watch their little boy eat too many jelly beans until he vibrates into another dimension. They’d run him around the yard until he passed out from exhaustion, then lock themselves in their bedroom and have some adult fun with the ears and tail of an old bunny costume Kurt’s parents sent them one year. But ever since Kurt got his promotion at Vogue, they’ve been attending more events like this over the holidays – outlandish affairs that required them to dress in more-expensive-than-usual attire and rub elbows with the upper crust.

It’s how Sebastian spent a good portion of his own childhood, so it should be old hat to him by now. But the older he gets, the more he values his quiet life. And things like this, which Kurt handles with the grace and energy of a professional socialite, have begun to wear on him.

He can’t blame Kurt for this one. He didn’t choose this. He didn’t even know egg hunts of this caliber existed.

It was his boss Isabelle’s idea.

Sebastian loves Isabelle. Kurt owes her a ton for giving him his big break right after he graduated high school, when he’d moved to New York with no other plan than to survive, which means Sebastian owes her, too.

After this, though, Sebastian might consider declaring them even.

“Having flashbacks?” Kurt teases, taking his hand as they pick their way through the grass over to a roped off area. From what he can see, it’s roughly about the size of two football fields end to end, which Kurt finds astounding since half of the children here look barely old enough to walk yet.

How are they going to cover the length of one football field, not to mention two? They’ll be huddled in one corner, whining over a dozen plastic eggs, leaving an entire section of grass completely unexplored.

“You can say that,” Sebastian says, stopping when Thomas chooses a spot and plops down in the grass. “My parents took me and my brother to one of these stupid hunts every single year. You’d think it would be fun. I mean, it was at the country club, there were other kids, eventual chocolate. But it was never fun.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t just getting together with our friends and looking for eggs. It was a competition. Our parents were pitting their kids against each other to see whose family was better. But by the end, the other kids didn’t matter. For my parents, it became me against my brother.” Sebastian stops the story there, stops short of telling Kurt exactly how far his parents’ disappointment in him went. He’ll tell Kurt one of these days. But now is not the time. Not in front of Thomas. “It was kind of traumatizing.”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s shoulder. “Oh, Sebastian. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have found a way to bow out.”

“Because you always get so excited when Isabelle invites you to these things. I didn’t want you to miss it. It’s important to you.”

“Yeah, but you’re more important. One of the most important.”

“You can make it up to me later,” Sebastian suggests, leaning in close so Thomas won’t hear. “You know … nakedly?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he didn’t expect anything less. “Look, Isabelle hasn’t seen us yet. Maybe we can …”

“Kurt! Sebastian! Oh, thank goodness you could make it! I was scared you’d get caught in the holiday traffic!”

Kurt sighs. He had always referred to Isabelle as his ‘fairy godmother’ in part because of the dreams she’d been able to help him realize, but also because of her impeccable timing.

It was close to occult.

Kurt mouths sorry to his husband for getting his hopes up while his boss is too far away to notice.

“Isabelle! We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Kurt feels his husband grimace as he greets his boss with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “We actually came up yesterday and rented a room not too far from here to make sure we’d get here on time.”

“Fabulous!” she says, kissing Kurt and then moving on to Sebastian. “Make sure you send me the bill!”

“You know I will.” Kurt watches Isabelle move on to Thomas and Hepburn. Thomas may not like being kissed, but he loves Isabelle as much as his parents do, so he sits still and lets her fuss over him, coo about how cute and grown up he looks, so much like his fathers in his smart grey slacks and navy blue button down. “So, what are the rules here?” Kurt asks, searching the grounds for a sign, a poster, a handout, something. “Is there a time limit? Are the kids separated by athletic ability? Or age?”

Kurt isn’t a huge fan of things like Easter egg hunts or baby races. He doesn’t have the patience to handle large congregations of kids and parents. Being a member of the PTA at his son’s school is the farthest he’ll stretch. And even though he wanted to come today, he was hoping to constrict their revelry to family members only, so if they can find their own section of the park to conduct their Easter biz without having to socialize, even with the elite, that would suit him fine.

“You’re making this too complicated!” Isabelle laughs under the assumption that Kurt is joking. “It’s just an Easter egg hunt, Kurt!”

“We usually confine our egg hunting to our house, maybe the front porch,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah. Besides, tromping through the grass in search of hard boiled eggs isn’t the way my father and I spent Easter.”

“How did you spend Easter?” Isabelle asks, realizing that after knowing Kurt for over a decade, she has no clue.

“The way many a well-rounded, musical theater inclined child did. I watched Brigadoon on AMC.”

Sebastian side-eyes his husband with a scowl that makes Isabelle snicker. “How in the hell did you and I ever get together?”

“You decided to stop being a royal idiot about pretty much everything in your life and do something smart for once.”

Isabelle guffaws so loudly at that, Hepburn’s ears prick up.

“Wow …” Sebastian says, mouth agape. “I … don’t know how to respond to that.”

“A simple you’re absolutely right, love of my life, I will never doubt your incredible wisdom in all things again will suffice.”

“Not the direction I was going to go, but okay. As long as it gets me some ass after this is over with.”

Kurt elbows his husband.

Isabelle snorts. “Come on, guys! Let’s enjoy ourselves! It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and I think the Easter bunny just arrived!”

“The Easter bunny!?” Thomas pipes up from his seat in the grass. “Where?”

Sebastian, Kurt, and Thomas take a gander at the festivities around them heralding the soon-to-be start of the egg hunt. Indeed, the Easter bunny had arrived. But this was not your average, human-sized, department store cottontail dressed in a pastel vest and straw top hat, carrying a basket of colorful, candy-filled plastic eggs. This Easter bunny is easily seven feet tall, dressed in what could only be described as a vintage suit of aubergine brocade with matching purple top hat; a tall, white plume tucked inside the olive green hat band; a gold monocle over his left eye; carrying a hand-carved mahogany walking stick in one hand, and a Moses basket in the other, filled to bursting with eggs, jelly beans, foil-wrapped chocolates, and trinkets and tidbits that catch the light and twinkle like gemstones. He’s surrounded by an entourage of handlers, each wearing an outfit to complement the bunny’s own and carrying baskets of the same treats to hand out to the kids. The bunny and his team walk the perimeter of the field, and a parade forms behind him – adorable little boys and girls bedecked in their Sunday best, dresses and suits that Kurt saw advertised in Vogue for close to four figures. But some of them are dressed in honest to God athletic wear.

Those boys and girls look downright intimidating.

“I don’t know.” Kurt eyes five children dressed in matching track suits and running shoes. “Some of the people here look awfully competitive.”

“That’s an understatement,” Sebastian adds. Back in his day, the kids and parents were competitive as fuck. But this – this is on a whole other level.

“Of course they are! The prizes here are outstanding! Last year, they hid a $10,000 Tiffany engagement ring in one of the eggs!”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up so far, they disappear somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline. “Really?”

“Sounds about right,” Sebastian mutters, shivering with the memory of having his hand stepped on by no less than three pairs of dress shoes in an effort to reach a particularly difficult to get at egg. All the kids knew that the farther the lie, the better the prize. That was something the organizers of the egg hunt used to sing as they released the children, like hounds, to sniff out the treats.

He suddenly feels queasy, stomach acids sloshing left to right as he shoves that little ditty aside. But even with it pushed out of the way, he can’t help feeling sick.

Why were they there again?

“They go all out - luxury vacations, spa packages, theater tickets … but don’t worry,” Isabelle says when she notices how pale Sebastian has become. “The emphasis here is on fun.”

“Do they know that?” Kurt asks, motioning with his chin towards a nearby family dressed entirely in Under Armour from The Rock’s latest collection – mother, father, and their five-year-old daughter staring down Thomas like a lion stares down an easy meal.

Under Armour – proud sponsor of Easter and good-natured family fun, Kurt thinks spitefully. He wonders if Isabelle has the same thought as she quickly pulls out her iPhone and starts snapping some pics.

Their attentions are directed upward by the sound of a helicopter arriving, circling the area above their heads.

“Okay, why is that here?” Kurt asks. It’d be easy to assume it’s paparazzi, but there isn’t supposed to be any here. That’s part of the appeal. There are guards posted everywhere to ensure the privacy of the families participating. But they can’t be everywhere at once. It’s possible one or two might get through.

“It’s here to drop more eggs from above! Those are the ones people really go for. Some of them are made out of solid gold!” Isabelle explains, nearly drooling after the words solid gold.

“What the---? That’s insane! Even my parents’ country club never went that far!” Sebastian envisions something the size of a chicken egg made of gold plummeting from the sky and smacking him on the head. That would definitely leave a dent in his skull, at the very least.

Could he survive that impact?

“Ouch!” Kurt kneels beside his son and covers his head protectively while keeping an eye on the sky. “Isn’t this a little excessive? I mean, we have the money to go to whatever spa we want. That’s one of the perks of being rich.”

“That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen!” Sebastian says, pointing towards the sky. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember signing a waiver!” He joins his husband, son, and Hepburn, hovering over them in an effort to protect them all when he swears he hears the copter swoop down. “What kid needs a Tiffany engagement ring anyway? This sounds like it’s going to turn into a blood bath!” He meets Kurt’s gaze, his husband’s eyes wide, unsure what to do about this, about this mess he’s gotten them into. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“No!” Isabelle pleads. “Just … give it a few minutes! Please? An hour at the most? I promise we’ll have fun! I’ve been looking forward to getting you out here for this Easter egg hunt ever since I found out you’d adopted Thomas!”

Kurt shakes his head slowly. He is here for work, but that shouldn’t include putting his life, and the lives of his family, in danger! Isabelle is his friend. She won’t make him stay if they’re uncomfortable, especially considering Thomas’s history of anxiety. But there’s a look in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. Not crazy, per se, but slightly unhinged? But not in a bad way? “I don’t know …”

“We’re at a big, private park. There’s a playground and a lake not too far from here. If you don’t like the Easter egg hunt, we can go over there and Thomas can play. But can we give this a try first? Please?”

Kurt looks from a worried Sebastian, awkwardly shielding their heads, to Hepburn, instinctively on alert, back to Isabelle, and sighs. Isabelle means well. She’s from a wealthy family in Columbus, so she probably went to egg hunts like this one, same as Sebastian. Perhaps her experiences were better. With no kids of her own, she probably tries to strong arm all the employees with kids to come to this thing so she can relive her childhood.

Looking at the expression on her face, she seems nothing if not sincere.

In the end, for Kurt, it’s all about Thomas. And his son - playing in the grass, singing a song about the Easter bunny that he learned in school, without a care in the world - seems to be enjoying himself so far.

They’re already here. They drove for hours to get here. And it is a stunning location. They can stick it out for a while, collect a few eggs, dodge the helicopter, grab some punch and cookies over at the refreshment table, and then retire to the playground. They brought Hepburn’s toys with them. They can tire Thomas and his dog out in one fell swoop. It’ll be fine. It might even be fun.

If anything, the pictures will be precious.

“Alright,” Kurt says, feeling the weight of his husband deflating a bit in defeat. He knows that Sebastian was hoping this was their out, and on any given day, falling solid gold projectiles would be. But Kurt is in the unfortunate position of having to juggle the feelings of multiple people that he loves. “We’ll give it an hour.”

“Yay!” Isabelle says. “That’s all I ask.”

“But after that …”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Lads and lasses! Step right up to the starting line! The 53rd Annual Hampton Bay Easter Egg Hunt is about to begin!”

“Starting line?” Sebastian repeats, looking left and right. “What starting line?”

Kurt looks around, too, in confusion. Starting line? He doesn’t remember seeing anything marked starting line. There was only the rope boundary and …

Uh oh …

While they’d been discussing staying or going, they hadn’t noticed that the parade of kids and parents following the Easter bunny had circled round and stopped about a hundred feet away … right where the rope Kurt, Sebastian, Thomas, and Hepburn passed to get in had been set up. There they stood – a mob of adults and children lined up in starting positions, brows furrowed in deep concentration, ready to charge, like a re-enactment of The Hunger Games if the eccentrically dressed inhabitants of the Capitol City were the ones on the attack.

Sebastian, Kurt, Thomas, and Isabelle didn’t know.

Nobody told them.

Nobody warned them.

Nobody seemed to care that they were sitting in the grass, dead center, in the way.

“On your marks …”

“Daddy …” Thomas grabs his father’s hand in both of his and squeezes tight.

“… get set …”

“No, no, no, no …” Sebastian springs to his feet, gearing up to drag the lot of them off the field before the announcer can get to Go!

But he never does.

And not because he’s waiting for them to vacate the field. (Who knows if the man even sees them?) But because the start of the hunt is proclaimed by a gun shot.

The sharp pop hits the air.

After that, the roar of hundreds of feet hitting the ground, along with the frantic screaming of children, is deafening. At the same time, the helicopter above releases its bounty. Plastic eggs rain down around them, exploding on contact, spreading chocolate shrapnel within a foot of where they land. One hits Sebastian on the top of his head.

“Ow! God!” he wails, rubbing an already forming bump with his fingers. He doesn’t know what the heck was inside that thing, but his head begins to throb.

No way is he going to stay there if something made of solid gold is headed his way.

“Run!” Sebastian says, pulling his husband to his feet and getting pelted by another plastic egg in the process. He sees this one where it lands, spraying jelly beans left and right, and he starts laughing.

“Sebastian!” Kurt cries. Hepburn barks once in warning and yanks Thomas the shortest distance across the field. Kurt covers the boy’s head with his jacket and bolts, leaving Sebastian behind in a mad dash for their car. “Sebastian! For God’s sake! Hurry up!”

Sebastian runs to catch up, but three steps in, a featureless gold blur hits the ground hard, and his foot gets caught in the hole it makes. He falls to his knees, laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. Spoiled little rich kid with daddy issues. That’s what Kurt had called him once back in high school – back when they hated one another. Little did Kurt know how close to the mark that comment hit, or how deeply the already scarred over wounds went. But the reason Kurt didn’t know, not for a long time, is because Sebastian had worked so hard to hide them, run away from them. He was going to grow up better than his upbringing. He was going to become a successful person, a successful parent, whether his own parents were proud of him or not. But all the things they did to break him down - Sebastian didn’t find a way to get rid of them. He simply carried them with him. And here he was – a husband and a father, scared of an Easter egg hunt! Granted, he was in very real danger of ending up with a concussion, but fuck the rest!

Isabelle was right! It’s a beautiful day! And regardless of the greedy horde about to trample him into the dirt, he was going to have the best day ever because he’s surrounded by people he loves!

People who will mourn him when he’s gone.

“Raise our son well, Kurt!” he chokes out over the howl of the raging onslaught. “And remember, I always loved you! Well, ninety-three percent of the time!”

Kurt turns to see his husband, red-faced with laughter, swallowed by the crowd, and despite being concerned for his safety, he can’t help laughing, too. He knows that in a few minutes the crowd will pass, and Sebastian will emerge the way he always does – cocky as hell, obnoxiously triumphant, and probably with a dozen of those golden eggs Isabelle was fiending over. “You’re a good man, Sebastian Smythe! You shall be missed!”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

[wonkyuna-blog]

Dependence

Genre: (MATURE) Angst, Fluff, Smut, M / W, M / M

Im Changkyun x Yoo Kihyun Summary: As the resident Oncologist, the throes of life and death are beginning to weigh on Changkyun. He turns to self prescribed medication to fight off the pain of loss and losing sight of yourself. One of the nurses has invited herself to become incredibly close with him under the guise of false hope and a helping hand. Will he lose himself within his own mind or learn how to move on with his life? And, what happened to Kihyun?

Word Count: 8.6k+

Warnings: Drug abuse, Death, Drug-induced Sex, Hallucinations /// Author’s Note /// I hope you enjoy the first installment to this series! 

Warm and sweet, the spring wind rolled through the window and stirred the stagnant air within Changkyun’s apartment. Everything had its own specific place to him, so in consequence it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Clothes were strewn about, coffee stained mugs sat at the dining room table as if their owners would come to reclaim them at any moment, and several different cologne bottles both empty and occupied were hidden around the living room like Easter eggs. He grew impatient sitting restlessly on the couch tapping his foot on the floor while running slender fingers through his hair. The window was hardly ever opened, but he believed some fresh air may actually do him some good and relieve some of the energy pent up in the home as well. There were memories in his head forcing themselves together, almost clawing at his consciousness begging for his attention, as though they had decided to march to their own beat. It was agonizing, all Changkyun needed was something to help him haze them out. Quiet them, relieve them, kill them... something, anything but oblige them. He scanned the living room with means to distract himself but all he could make out was ghosts from his past. With every dust particle and fabric depression left just the way it was supposed to have been. Left that way on purpose to preserve the very memories he intended so deeply to skew. Footsteps could be heard as they trod down the hallway. Suddenly the buzzing thoughts had been momentarily silenced and replaced with anticipation. Changkyun leapt in a blur from where he was as soon as the bell sounded to open the front door for Wonho.

“On time as always, but each time is beginning to feel like an eternity now. Man, am I glad to see you.” Changkyun was eyeing Wonho as he pulled a small box from the bag he carried with him. “My head becomes its own overcrowded streetcar basically with how all these thoughts are buzzing.” He continued, coming up with excuses for himself while still following the box in his gaze.

“It’s going to be like that until you decide that you don’t need these anymore you know.” Wonho shot him a concerned look before setting the box down on the table next to the sofa. “Maybe you should think about weaning yourself off ‘em? You’re one of my best friends Changkyun. I know this may not have been the best route and I know it helps your brain settle down, but you can’t keep on it forever. Eventually you're gonna have to go through the process of accepta-” Changkyun slipped him the money then gave Wonho a lingering hug; almost in a fifty/fifty bid to get him to stop talking and to deliver a sincere thank-you together in one motion.

“If I’m ever in serious trouble I know you’ll come to my rescue. Thank you.” Changkyun gave a sad smile and motioned towards the door. “I’m going to be late for work if I don’t hurry, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I gotta head off myself anyway, I don't wanna miss work myself. See ya man.” Wonho walked off with a reluctant expression glued to his face. Changkyun locked the door behind him and made a beeline for the box Wonho had left for him. He knew what this was doing to him, but it was the only thing that made the high-speed thought traffic in his mind ease off. An escape attempt, sure, but he’d come clean soon he promised himself continuously. Upon opening it Changkyun exuded a relieved sigh, grabbed the container of Ketamine pills inside and swallowed one of them. They usually didn’t come in pill form, but Wonho had put the powder inside empty placebo pills to eliminate the anxiety of needles. As a doctor, Changkyun had no issues administering medicine to his patients with needles, but he couldn’t stand thinking about using them on himself. I’m going to repay him somehow… he’s all I have left, Changkyun thought to himself. He grabbed his keys and everything he needed for the day before heading down to the parking lot and into his car.

The pills had started to kick in shortly before he arrived at the Gocheok Hospital where he worked, and started a hallucination after parking. He gave a breathy sigh, trying to stabilize himself, and looked around as the interior of the car began to bubble and twist to resemble his apartment home again. There was a bright light shining in through the open window that illuminated the entire area. It was much cleaner than before, and the sun coming through the drawn curtains invited a feeling of lazy comfort. Changkyun shifted on the couch and took a deep breath to try and remind himself that he was revisiting a memory, not reality; but the air rolled in and brought a sharp tang of a lemon and grapefruit fragrance coming from a head of bright pink hair lying in his lap.

“Please don’t go to work today.” The man hummed, slowly lifting his pout to catch Changkyun’s gaze. He playfully flashed a smile and wiggled his body trying to be cute. It was a pretty convincing display.

“You know I have to, Kihyun. Someone around here has to work anyway.” He teased. They embraced each other closely while Changkyun stroked Kihyun’s hair. The warmth of the sun tracked its way crawling over his skin, but felt nothing like the warmth that Kihyun filled his chest with.

“Hm, fine. But! You have to make it up to me when you get home. We are going to go eat, celebrate, and no excuses!” Kihyun waited for a response as he tangled their fingers together.

“I promise”, Changkyun said as he undid their knot of fingers to loop their pinkies together. Kihyun climbed up his body to kiss him deeply and Changkyun’s mind faded back to staring at the parking lot of the hospital with tears stinging his eyes. He sat in silence with his thoughts for a while before gathering himself up and headed into the building. No more distractions today. The nurses waiting at the service desk perked up as he stepped through the front doors. One of them, whose badge read “Anna”, began gathering up files and presented them to him when he walked up.

“Good morning hun! You have a couple of appointments later today that I left files waiting for you on your desk.” She fashioned the largest smile she could manage to beam at him while the nurses sitting behind her whispered and giggled. He cocked a half smile while fingering the folders she handed him and thanked her quietly, moving on towards the elevator. “Did you see?” Anna’s face was flushed as she sat back down to gossip with the rest of the nurses. As Changkyun took a step to enter the elevator he felt his heart stop as he saw a familiar face with dancing pink hair waiting for him against its walls. He immediately dropped his gaze, boarded the lift, and chose his floor destination. Kihyun stood in silence, smiling and staring at him the rest of the way. Once Changkyun finally reached his floor he stepped off continuing to ignore his presence while gripping at his chest. His heart felt as if it had combusted into a wild flame. It licked at his very lungs making it difficult to breathe.

He reached his office finally and settled into his desk while fighting back the tears welling in his eyes. Slowly he blew air out from his mouth and stared at the files set before him. Focus, Changkyun, you have to focus. With a two-ton brick resting just under his rib cage he scattered them across his desk to skim them over. All of his patients were a variety of cases, whether they suffered from malignant tumors or benign cysts. Changkyun thought back to when he was in medical school and wondered why instead of feeling satisfaction from helping others he was just constantly barraged by the presence of death. It seemed to cling to him recently, and it was beginning to hold a significant weight over him.   A phone call suddenly came through and informed him that his first patient had arrived and was waiting for him in the exam room. Changkyun lingered in his thoughts a bit while heading to meet the patient, still wondering if this life was flourishing as he needed it to be. He entered the room where two men were seated inside waiting for him. “Erik?” He called out, holding an open file in both hands. The man sitting to the right gave him a weak smile and waved his hand. “A pleasure” said Changkyun, “I’ll be your oncologist. You can call me Changkyun.” He shook both their hands then took a seat at the table in front of them and flipped through his file. “Now, it looks like your biopsy came back negative and your growth is very benign.” They both gave an audible sigh of relief and grabbed each other’s hands for support. “I know how stressful it can be to hear that you have a cyst and not know what that may entail for you, so I’m happy I could deliver good news to you today. I would like to see you again for a follow up to make sure it doesn’t change, but breathe easy now.”

“Thank you so much doctor!” Changkyun nodded to them, wished them a good day, and left for his next patient gripping her folder tightly. He entered the next room and shook a woman’s hand.

“Nice to meet you Mira, I’m your oncologist, Changkyun.” She was alarmingly petite he noted.

“Thank you, doctor”. She gripped his hand tightly and wore the unmistakable mask of anxiety. Squirming in her seat and fidgeting with her hands while she seemed to be waiting for some sort of judgement to be passed onto her. Just as before, Changkyun took his seat in front of her and looked over her file. His heart plummeted.   “Miss, it seems that the tumor has spread to your lymph nodes. I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this.” She sat in silence for what seemed like an age. “We can try chemotherapy if you’d like, that is an option, but it may bring you into even greater pain. Otherwise, you aren't looking at the long life that many of us are supposedly promised anymore.” Mira sat in silence with her head hung between her shoulders. He gave her the time she need to process this news until she finally looked up at Changkyun with tears streaming down her eyes and a smile full of what seemed to be hope.

“No, I think I will simply stay with my family and live out my time. My siblings need a strong person to look up to, you know? And I have to be that for them even if that means my time here is cut early. I’m... all that they have...” She sat in her thoughts for a short moment and finally nodded to confirm her final decision, trying her best not to get choked up. Changkyun hesitated, but understood the woman’s wishes and made the notes in her file.

“If you ever need to see me don’t hesitate to make an appointment. Regardless of your decision I will be here for you for any amount of pain or however uncomfortable you may feel in the coming months.” He walked over to her and handed his business card so she could reach him personally if she needed.

“Thank you for understanding.” Changkyun wished her well and stepped out of the room with a heavy heart. He couldn’t understand completely her resolution, there was no way. Wouldn’t she want to remain strong for her family by fighting, instead? Maybe she meant that she didn’t want them to see her body react to the chemo treatment since it breaks down so gradually. There was nothing he could do if she did not want to be saved, so he decided to try and put it from his mind.

In the elevator Changkyun dug in his pocket, palmed another pill, and forced it down his throat. He began to seriously question whether he could continue to put up with this anymore. The constant limbo of good news, bad news, and so forth was becoming a mental and emotional strain. He only wanted to help people but all there was to do lately was deliver death certificates. As he entered his office Changkyun was again greeted by a silent Kihyun. He was taken aback realizing who it was, then resolved to ignore him again and walk straight to his desk. He tried to shut out his piercing smile that lingered over his own face. A knock from the door resounded within the room and Anna walked in with rose colored cheeks, obviously embarrassed from barging in.   “I-I’m sorry to intrude on you like this but I was wondering if you might join me for lunch? I know how busy you must be and you know it’s silly of me to asking the first pla-“

“Yes”, Changkyun interjected.

“…What?” she said, dumbfounded.

“Yes, I will join you.” Changkyun’s expression was blank as he waited for her response. He kept stealing glances towards where Kihyun was seated. If there was any way to escape this uncomfortable situation it was by entertaining the nurse who seemed admittedly smitten with him. Anna gathered herself again and replied, “Right…” Gaining confidence she continued, “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria then!” He nodded in agreement and she nearly tripped over her own feet in her excitement to get out the door.   Changkyun sat in silence for a while before deciding to take two more pills then stepped out to meet with Anna. He bought himself an iced coffee and found an empty table near a window while he waited. The garden outside was bursting with new life. Emerald leaves coated the branches of trees that danced in the day’s breeze and gave homes to nesting birds. Wildflowers were pushing themselves up through the ground to feed upon the sun’s ever piercing light. It was the time of rebirth, where the death of winter was forgiven and creatures great and small began again.

“Thank you so much for sitting with me today.” Anna settled in the seat across from him carrying a sandwich and some tea. “I usually sit in here by myself when I’m not swamped with patients. It can get pretty lonely.” She pursed her lips and stared at Changkyun awaiting a response. He pulled himself from his fixation and thought on her words before replying.

“I usually eat in my office.” He held his drink close to him and let his eyes again glaze over scene he had been admiring outside.

“Ah, that only makes sense. I’m sure it’s very peaceful.” The nurse began to struggle to continue with words for the conversation considering Changkyun didn’t have much to say. He was lost in between the present and elsewhere in his mind. As he initiated the drift he began to imagine lazy smiles and sunlit rooms in the afternoon. Revisiting the vision he had in the car when he arrived that morning. A warm and fuzzy sensation crept across his face until the hum of a flat-line filled his ears and sent him into panic mode. He snapped back into a lucid state and soon realized he was standing over Anna cleaning his spilled drink. “I…I’m sorry I have to go.”

“NO!” she shouted, her face went flush with embarrassment and he stopped where he was as she continued in a softer tone “I’ll walk you to your office”. She escorted him out and back into the lift supporting him by grabbing his shoulders. Once they reached his office Anna opened the door and Changkyun sat himself down on the couch staring into space. She closed the door behind them and sat next to him, stroking the hair from his face.   “What happened back there, huh? You seemed to just kind of zone out then all of a sudden stood up and dropped your drink.” He kept his attention to the floor and remained silent. “Ok, well you don’t have to tell me… but I do have something that I wanted to give to you.”   She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag with tiny blue pills inside. “I know how much you’ve been hurting lately, so I wanted to give you something to help you escape – even if for a little while. It may be a little unorthodox, but just this one time shouldn’t hurt anything, right?” He finally looked up at her; his eyes were filled with so much pain. He took a couple of the pills from her and swallowed them on the spot. “Besides”, Anna giggled, “if anything happens you are just lucky enough to have a real-life nurse at your side!”

He fell back into the couch and waited for his reality to melt away and transform into something new. After a few moments had passed Changkyun felt a slight pressure all over his body. His heartbeat raced and he began to feel extremely warm. What felt like fingers started to weave themselves through his hair in a precise and repetitive rhythm. It was so relaxing, they felt like they had become a part of him and maybe he could rest and fall asleep here. Another hand then caressed his face, every ridge of its skin he could feel resisting his own. The fingers began to trace his lips slowly before finally slipping between them. He took a breath and accepted it by taking it further into his mouth, releasing a soft moan and swirling his tongue around as it prodded in and out. A third began to glide over his stomach and chest, mapping out the crevices of his abdomen. These sensations were overwhelming; Changkyun didn’t know where to focus. Then finally, a fourth ran up his thigh where an intense weight lingered over his growing member. There were countless hands and fingers and nails sliding across every single inch of his body. Changkyun moaned heavily around the fingers fucking his mouth. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side to see Anna sitting next to him simply staring at his ecstasy. Her fingers locked through his hair as she finally leaned forwards and kissed him deeply on the mouth. He felt himself melt into her as sparks of life danced across his face. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. She climbed into his lap before disconnecting their faces to leave a trail of bites along his ear, neck, and collar bone. A feint fruit-like smell wafted throughout the room as he tried to focus on what he was feeling. He felt every point of pressure magnified. Changkyun grabbed Anna's hips and bucked into her in response to her advances. If there was a kiss one place it was suddenly in a thousand other places at the same time.   Changkyun couldn’t take it anymore – he began to grasp at the buttons on his pants to remove them underneath her. “I need you”, he breathed, not looking her in the eye. She stared into him for a moment as she couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Anna helped him throw off his pants and underwear and followed suit with hers as well. They were both locked in a sloppy, passionate kiss as she braced herself with his shoulders and lowered herself onto his erection. She gave a deep growl as his girth stretched and filled her cunt. He threw his head back and let out an exasperated cry at the sensation, grabbing onto her hips to dig himself deeper. Anna held Changkyun close to her chest as she grinded herself onto his dick. She dipped down and began to suck on his earlobe and leave gentle nibbles. “You’re mine now”, she whispered into his ear. She adopted quicker movements and clenched herself around his shaft, releasing quiet breaths with each down stroke. He leaned down and mouthed at her breasts, his tongue skillfully rounding her nipples. She began to push faster and harder for his release and he dug his face into her collar bone to mask his deep moans. Anna grabbed him by the sides of his throat and held him to the back of the couch as she rocked him in and out of her soaked pussy.   Changkyun couldn’t take it anymore – she gave a surprised yelp as he suddenly pulled her to him by wrapping his arms under hers and held her by the shoulders so that his shaft was as deep as he could manage. He pumped himself furiously into her until there was a searing heat in the pit of his stomach like a fire he could no longer contain. “Fuck!” he grunted as he finally released his cum into her, filling her core. Changkyun clung to Anna for a short time attempting to catch his breath before falling back into the couch in a daze. She giggled and removed herself, looking back only to see him spaced completely out and breathing heavy. “Oh shit, I have to go… I’ll catch up with you later Changkyun”. She gathered her belongings and closed the door behind her.

Changkyun lingered on the couch in silence staring into space easing his breathing down before finally bursting into tears and withdrawing into himself. All he could think of in that moment was Kihyun and their quiet afternoons spent embraced with each other at home. Everything felt like him, smelled like him, tasted like him. He didn’t want anyone else.

Anna continued to coerce Changkyun to become intoxicated during their meetings and took advantage of him in an effort to gain his affection. She believed that eventually he would come around to see that he really cared for her, and what they had was unique – despite his ritualistic callouts for Kihyun during their moments of intimacy. A couple of weeks later, on the way towards his office for another of her scheduled sessions she walked by a group of gossiping orderlies. “There’s Anna! She really is such a kind soul for being there for Changkyun with what he’s been going through recently. I’ve never seen him so down, hopefully she can get him to turn himself around.” She smiled at herself because she didn’t realize that others were seeing everything she was doing for him too.   Soon enough he’ll learn to move on and accept me, she thought to herself. He had been obsessed over Kihyun for far too long and it was in the past anyway, she was his future now. Anna knocked and opened the door to his office and closed the door behind her. For some reason the lights were out, so she flipped the switch and turned towards his desk. “I’m here for your check up!” She hummed, attempting to start a little game with him; but he wasn’t at his desk or anywhere in the room that she could see. She heard muffled noises coming from behind the desk.   When she went to investigate her heart stopped the instant her gaze fell upon Changkyun. He was in the middle of the floor seizing and foaming at the mouth, pills scattered around his desk. “Oh my god” she whispered to herself. “I…I’m going to go get help, please don’t fall asleep.” Then ran out the door screaming for anyone to come and help. Changkyun’s convulsions slowed to a stop before finally shutting his eyes and dissolving deep into his subconscious before he was escorted to the emergency room.

After blacking out, Changkyun descended into another dreamscape of memories. He endlessly fell amongst a dark void where the silence was deafening. All he could reach out for in his mind was the desire to feel warmth. And yet here he fell for what seemed like an eternity, until finally opening his eyes where he was lying on the couch in his apartment living room – again. Kihyun was soundly resting on top of him locked in a tight embrace. As he drew a deep breath he had found the familiar scent that lingered with him all too vivid. Changkyun sat them both upwards and stared longingly into his eyes. With the most serious yet soothing voice he could muster he said, “Kihyun, I want to marry you.” With baited breath he pulled a small dark blue box from underneath the couch and revealed a black band with fire opals set into it. Kihyun’s face was paralyzed with shock and he hesitated from being unsure of the right words to say. Soon after he began to tear up and slowly nodded his head with a toothy smile holding back his tears. Before he could let out his sobs of joy Changkyun cupped his face in his hands and kissed him as deeply as possible, pulling him close. Changkyun pulled away with their foreheads still touching and in an almost sing song voice said “I love you so much, I’ve never known anyone that I could be so absolute with before. I can be myself around you and-”.   Kihyun pressed his lips against Changkyun again and laughed “I love you too. You don’t have to get into an excited talking fit.”

Kihyun ran his hands fluid up Changkyun’s chest where they rested on the crook of his neck and held him there. He connected with Changkyun again, this time straddling him on the couch while they passionately kissed and melded into each other. He removed his shirt and bent down to whisper in Changkyun’s ear. “I want you like this for the rest of our lives” he giggled then began to trail light bites up and down his neck, to his ears, and kissed him deeply again. A light moan of appreciation escaped from Changkyun’s lips as his hand traveled downwards now and snaked under his pants to stroke his growing erection. Appreciation evolved to lust as Changkyun pulled Kihyun closer to return the biting, only harder and more feverish.   “Mm, just like that baby” he continued to vocalize his pleasure into Kihyun’s ear while he was massaging his engorged shaft.   Content with his work thus far, Kihyun began removing the rest of his clothes, pulling down his underwear and allowing his own erection to spring free. He then began to work on Changkyun’s pants, only then to bend down and take his length into his mouth. Pressing his tongue flush against the underside, Kihyun bobbed up and down the shaft and held the base with his free hand. He was massaging the rim of his own anus and moaned around the dick in his mouth.   “Fuck.”   Changkyun’s breathing had become raspy and labored from the stimulation and he ran his fingers through Kihyun’s hair, slightly pushing the base of his head to encourage more. Kihyun began to slow himself before finally stopping to trail kisses up Changkyun’s body. He lifted up to position himself just above his swollen cock and then with one hand keeping it steady slowly eased himself down onto it.   “God, Changkyun” he groaned deeply as Changkyun entered him, letting him adjust to the size. Kihyun patiently worked into a rhythm while the two kissed each other. Their pace quickened now and he dipped down to whisper in Changkyun’s ear, “baby I want you to fuck me like it’s the last thing we do”.   Changkyun groaned and slid his hands underneath Kihyun’s arms to lock onto his shoulders and then pushed him hard into his cock.   “Fuck!” they both breathed and Changkyun continued pumping into him.  

“Kihyun I’m close, ah” the pressure was building in his testicles he started to slow his pace as he felt about to explode but Kihyun grabbed his thigh and told him to keep going. Changkyun worked back into his former pace, obeying. He began to grunt as he could feel himself about to tip over the edge. Kihyun reached between the both of them to help relieve his own pressure when he felt Changkyun grow stiff and then incredible warmth enveloped inside him. He heard whimpers and whines as he slowly rode out Changkyun’s high until he reached his own peak and ejaculated all across Changkyun’s stomach and chest. They both lay there while trying to catch their breath in each other’s arms.

Warmth was exactly what Changkyun had felt in that moment, he closed his eyes and it crept into every corner of his being. He felt whole. Beginning to shift he opened his eyes to find a hospital bed and Anna hovering over him. She felt incredibly guilty for instigating his overdose, it was written all over her face.   “I’m so sorry” she began crying to him. “I thought this would help you forget what had happened. I thought for sure once you felt better we could have a chance together.” She fought back tears and stroked his hand. “I’m sure once you’re out of this coma you’ll see just how much I care about you.”

Changkyun pulled back, and realized he was still lost in his mind wandering around in a dark hallway before coming across a door. He opened it to see Kihyun in a hospital bed like the one he had just been in and rushed towards him in an anxious fit. “Oh my god Kihyun, what happened to you? I got a call letting me know you were here and I came as quickly as I could. Are you ok?” he said, absolutely panicked.   “I’m fine. I just got into a little car accident is all.” He smiled big at Changkyun to lighten his spirits. Changkyun forced a smile back but stared at his fiancé covered in bruises and cuts. Kihyun could see through his fake smile and tried reassuring him.   “The car looks much worse than I do, love.” He winked at him with another huge smile and Changkyun wondered how he could be this calm. The doctor tending to Kihyun knocked at the door before stepping in.   “Ah Changkyun, right on time. Don’t worry too much now, he may look banged up but we gave him some pain killers and he’ll pull through just fine. He’s going to need lots of rest though, and I know he’ll be in very capable hands when he’s cleared to leave.” Changkyun offered the doctor a smile of relief and thanked him. The attending checked all of his vitals and made notes on his files then excused himself. Changkyun went to Kihyun, grabbed his hand and gave him a tender kiss on his forehead.   “I’ll be fine hun, I promise. I want you to go home and rest.” Kihyun tried relieving his stress but Changkyun argued.   “No, I’m staying right here with you until you can leave. You wouldn’t be here anyway if I hadn’t gotten called to stay after my shift was up. Tonight, was supposed to be for us, remember? We’re celebrating after all” Changkyun lifted Kihyun’s hand to show him the ring he had given to him and wiggled it back and forth.  

Kihyun gave a light giggle and replied, “Go home baby. I will be right here waiting to see you in the morning. We have the rest of forever to celebrate anyway you know.” Kihyun expressed a toothy wink and brought Changkyun’s hand to his face to give it a kiss. “I love you. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“I love you too, and I promise that I will be back first thing in the morning to entertain you.”   “I’ll hold you to that!”   Changkyun bent down and gave him a kiss on his forehead and turned out the door, nearly smacking into a nurse coming in. “Oh Anna, it’s you. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”   “No worries doll, just coming in to check on our special guest is all. Go get some rest he’s in good hands” She rushed him off and closed the door behind her. Changkyun reluctantly went home that night with the equivalent of what felt like a bowling ball sitting on top of his heart. He felt responsible for the accident and was going to do his best to make it up to Kihyun in the morning.

The following day he woke up as early as possible and nervously rushed down to the hospital. A group of nurses welcomed him at the desk, including Anna, who Changkyun felt was staring holes into him, but he brushed it off and continued on his way. He reached Kihyun’s room, flowers in hand, to greet him and see how he was doing. He carefully opened the door and realized that the room was silent. He walked over to the bed and saw that Kihyun was sleeping.   Changkyun walked over slowly to wake him but he just wouldn’t budge.   “Damn, I know you’re a heavy sleeper but even this is weird for you hun.”   As he continued to try his best to rouse his fiancé it dawned on him that his skin was ice cold. Changkyun’s heart sank and began to race all at the same time. Smashing the panic button several times on Kihyun’s bed trying to keep his breath steady but no one came to his call.   “What the fuck!” He ran out of the room and called for anyone to rush to his help. “Someone please! Get a doctor! Anyone! My fiancé isn’t waking up!” Soon after, one of the attending doctors rushed in with a nurse and raced to check his vitals. “Why are these damn machines off!” yelled the doctor. They asked Changkyun to wait outside while they attempted to resuscitate him. Changkyun tried his best to remain calm as he paced back and forth in front of the room Kihyun was in. Using exercises to keep his blood pressure and heart rate down and holding back tears as best he could. There was no way he could leave just like that, he was supposed to be fine. The doctor finally opened the door after what seemed like hours and asked him to step in. “I’m so sorry Changkyun.” He swallowed hard. “It was too late to do anything for him, and we tried everything we could. It looked like he suffered from organ failure overnight possibly... due to the trauma of the accident.”

“You told me he’d make a full recovery with rest… and now… he has organ failure from trauma?” All Changkyun could do is look down. He couldn’t face Kihyun or the doctor just yet.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It must have been something we missed during his initial testing. Unfortunately, it is something that can happen even with extensive tests. We’ll leave you with him for a while. When you’re ready you can review his charts, and let us know what you decide to… do.” Changkyun could tell he was using his words carefully to not upset him further, but what more could he say? His fiancé was just pronounced dead. Dead and gone and now Changkyun felt more alone than he ever had. The doctor and nurse left the room, leaving Changkyun finally staring at a lifeless Kihyun. A husk of the constant laughter that rang through his soul every day, now deafened. He walked over to him, stroked the hair from his face and began to sob quietly.   “We were supposed to grow old together. Why would you leave me like this?” A few small tear drops fell onto Kihyun’s face, frozen in time. “I can’t do this on my own Kihyun. You are my everything. What am I supposed to do without you?” Changkyun completely broke down into tears at this point and rested his head in the crook of Kihyun’s arm to muffle his sobs.

The room suddenly began to dissolve and fade. It now resembled a funeral home complete with rows of flowers and grieving loved ones. Changkyun lifted his head from his arms to see a perfectly groomed, peaceful Kihyun, no... his husk resting in his coffin. He stood and walked over to where he lay. Wet, hot tears stung Changkyun’s face. Kihyun was forever frozen in time; it was him but not all in the same. There was no laughter in his face, no love in his eyes. Changkyun laid an arrangement of flowers next to him and squeezed his arm but immediately felt sick from how stiff it was.   “I love you so much Kihyun.” He choked. “And I always will. We will be together again. Just keep waiting for me, please.” He bent down and gave him a light, lingering kiss on his cold forehead.

He lifted himself and opened his eyes to see another hospital room, only he was in bed this time. Anna was sitting in the corner playing on her phone when she looked up and screamed.   “Oh my god Changkyun you’re finally awake!” She scrambled over to his bedside and looked him over. “Take it easy hun, you’ve been out cold for 3 days.”   “What?!” Changkyun’s heart started racing. “How much have I missed? What happened?” His head felt clearer now than it had in months and it was absolutely awful.   “Changkyun, you over did it a bit with your pills and overdosed in your office. I found you convulsing on the floor and after you had calmed down you just slept for a long time. The seizure was mild enough to just knock you out for a few days. The good news is that you already ran through most of your withdrawals in your sleep, so it should be smooth sailing from here. I've been here waiting for you this whole-time and...” Anna's words blurred to incoherent noise as Changkyun realized what was going on. He was sober? No wonder he had so many dreams. He then realized exactly what he had been dreaming about, it all came rushing back to him and he burst into tears then. Everything he had worked so hard to erase or dull was now prominent on his mind. Anna became alarmed.   “Changkyun what’s wrong?!” She held him close to her and stroked his back. He took deep breaths in between sobs and just lay there motionless in her arms.   “I…I had dreams – no…memories…of Kihyun.” Changkyun then felt her body grow rigid and looked up at her. He found a kind of anger in her eyes he had never seen before. She quickly changed her composition as she noticed his puzzled look and tried to reassure him.   “Aw, Changkyun. I know you’re still beating yourself up about what happened, even after all this time, but there was nothing you or anyone could have done. It's best just to leave it in the past you know.”   “I know, but the reason it eats at me is because he was perfectly fine just hours before I had left. I could see it all so clearly-”   “No use in worrying about it now hun.” She cut him off before he could go any further. “You know mistakes are made and things can be overlooked. We are all human after all, and that includes unfortunate mortality. We just don't realize how fragile we can be until it's... too late.” Anna became physically uncomfortable and kept trying to get him off the subject but it was no use. Changkyun was lucid and fresh on the thoughts thanks to his memory dip.   “I’m not denying that, but all of his machines were cut off and his panic button wasn’t even working either. That’s not normal Anna.” She got chills when he said her name in that tone, so she resolved to adopt a louder voice.   “Maybe they were just getting ready to release him. Let’s not talk about this anymore Changkyun it’s just going to upset you and you only just woke up. What do you say you and I go back to your place for some relaxation, huh? Get your mind off things!” She started tugging at his shirt playfully but Changkyun wanted to fight back.   “Who was in his room last?” More of a demand than a question, she pushed herself off him and started to gather her things.   “Hmm…” she stalled. “You know, I’m not sure.”   “You were the last one in there when I left.” He was being curt now. He felt she was hiding something.   “Oh yeah? I’m sure someone else could have gone in to check on him after me.” She was trying to laugh his accusations off. Changkyun stared at her now, expressionless.   “You weren’t even scheduled to work that night though, I remember you texting me asking to grab a drink with you.”   “They called me in, just like they called you. It was busy that night. Listen, I’m going to go get you cleared for release ok? Wait just a minute.” She shot him a smile and rushed out the door before he could protest any longer. Changkyun sat in his bed starting to put pieces together. He suddenly felt sick. Something wasn’t right, and Anna was definitely hiding something. The bottom line was that he knew now that Kihyun certainly did not die on his own, and Changkyun was going to pull the truth.

They rode home in a taxi together in painful silence. Once they reached his apartment door she stopped in front of it before going in.   “I have a surprise for you!” She swung it wide open and Changkyun’s heart dropped into his stomach then exploded into a million little pieces, horrified. The apartment was completely spotless. Nothing was how he had left it. It wasn’t home anymore, at least not their home. “Ta-da! Do you like it? I came to grab you a change of clothes while you were out and noticed how filthy this place was. So, I thought I’d surprise you by cleaning it up!” She scrunched her face and looked at him like a proud puppy, though he felt she was a proud puppy that had just taken a giant shit in the floor. He looked around the living room with everything absolutely pristine. Nothing on the floor, no papers, no coffee cups, no cologne bottles. No memories left, like he really was gone now. Changkyun felt his face grow hot with rage.   “Why…” He struggled to find the right words; he didn’t know whether to be mean or just plain upset. He decided he didn’t want to be nice. “Why in the fuck would you do something like that? It was like that for a reason. These were mine and Kihyun’s things. I left it just the way he did. It wasn’t your place to-” Tears were stinging his eyes at this point and Anna looked as if she didn’t quite understand.   “I mean a thank you would be nice you know. I went through all that just for you. Now you can start to move on- “ “I don’t want to fucking move on. It’s been two months Anna. Two. Months. We were going to get married. He is the love of my life.”   “He’s your ex though, he’s gone.” She still didn’t understand what point he could be trying to reach, and it only served to make Changkyun more furious.   “He’s not my fucking ex! He’s dead, Anna! He died! Two months ago!”   “Oh please” She scoffed once again. “He wasn’t right for you anyway. I saw right through the both of you. I did you a favor, you know.” He stopped cold at this silent confession. His own heartbeat went silent in his ear and he just stared at her with wild eyes.   “What favor was that?” She was fidgeting but regained her confidence   “I told you, he wasn’t right for you.”   “And what, you are?” He yelled, hoping that was a stupid question. She recoiled a bit but stood her ground, there was no turning back now.   “Yes! Holy fuck, yes! I’ve seen the way you look at me Changkyun, don’t deny it. You can't. I saw how unhappy you were all the time so I had to do something. For you…for us! Fate just so happened to be on my side that night. I went drinking without you since you stood me up and I wrecked my car, it just so happened to be him. All you cared about was him though, you didn't even respond to my messages when I told you that I had gotten into an accident.” She began to giggle. “I knew it didn’t put him off though and that he’d end up at our hospital anyway so I just showed up in my uniform. At that point I’d been given a second chance and I wasn’t going to waste it.” Changkyun stared at her with his mouth wide open. There was a fire burning inside of him and the flames licked at his fingertips as he curled his fist tight.   “You murderous bitch. We’re co-workers Anna.” He tried his best to speak calmly. “If you call me being polite secret code for wanting to fuck you then you’re more insane than I originally thought.”   “You’re just in denial.” She laughed. “And if I recall correctly you did fuck me! It was so easy anyway, as soon as you left the room I just injected ricin into his IV and unplugged his machines. He slipped off into his sleep.” She looked to be reminiscing as she continued her montage. “You can’t tell me those nights of passion we shared weren’t love, Changkyun. Ugh, you wanted me so badly. Your beautiful cock was so welcoming.” She raised a finger to her mouth and giggled – her attempt at being seductive to assuage the situation. "Now that this is all out of the way and you're better, you should take me right here on the couch. Oh, that'd be fun!" “You drugged me you delusional bitch.” Changkyun felt there was no reasoning with her at this point. She was too far gone. “You could have convinced anyone to fuck you at that point.”   “It was the only way I knew how to get close to you, though, and I’d say it certainly worked. If it gives you any closure he tried yelling your name a few times as he slipped off. Poor thing, I would imagine gradual cell death might be pretty painful. I didn’t really think about it too much. He really did love you though, but we can all move on now that everything is aired out!”

Changkyun had reached his breaking point, and, in a fit of rage, grabbed Anna by her throat and threw her to the floor of the apartment squeezing as tightly as he could around her esophagus. She looked at him with pleading eyes, grabbing at his hands trying to claw herself free. She started kicking at him and they both fell over in the struggle. Ana tried her best to push her body upright to escape but Changkyun crawled on top of her and wrapped his hands around her throat again with even more force than before. She gasped out with tears in her eyes and bloodshot cheeks searching for any sort of air to relieve the pressure, then finally went limp. He stood over her, arms still coiled around her throat, trying to catch his breath before finally realizing what he had done and fell back.

He began to panic and hyperventilate. He had lost everything, his fiancé, his life, now he was going to lose his job and his freedom. Death seemed to follow him and pluck from his basket everything he held dear. He searched around the room for the remains of the box Wonho had given him. It was hidden underneath a lap table and he consumed every last pill inside. He didn’t know what else to do, he needed relief. If death was going to follow him he would gladly walk alongside it. He just wanted to be as numb as absolutely possible. He decided to check Anna’s pockets in case she had anything on her and of course, she did. Changkyun could only wonder how she was going to take advantage of him using this goddamn bottle. A full bottle of Ketamine pills just like the ones Wonho had given to him with instructions inside.

Do not consume more than two in a 24-hour period.

He downed the entire container and forced them down his throat, then collapsed on the floor in a fit of tears. Nothing would ever be the same again, and he didn't want any part of it. Not if this was the way the world is. Not if he'd be constantly stripped of the only happiness in life he managed to grasp. His mind began to haze and he felt sharp warmth envelop him as what felt like hands gripped him tight. He stared off into space and a miasma of lemon and grapefruit seduced his senses.

Kihyun.

His entire body became paralyzed, frozen on the floor in front of the couch. He closed his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. Everything was so warm and weightless, just the way he always felt with Kihyun. Upon opening them again Kihyun himself was smiling back at him while humming a song and began to stroke Changkyun’s hair. He gave a soft chuckle and went to sit at Changkyun's side.

“Kihyun” Changkyun’s voice cracked. Kihyun kept singing while stroking his hair. His voice was soft like velvet and it was making him very sleepy. The world was so heavy now, pressing down on his whole body instead of his heart for once. Everything would be fine as long as Kihyun was with him, though. Changkyun wiped his mouth, wet with a white foam, and tried his best to keep his eyes open though they protested. How could he sleep when he finally had Kihyun back with him?

“Kihyun, I’m scared.” He whispered.

“Shh” Kihyun whispered back. He pushed the hair out of Changkyun’s face and gently stroked his arm. “I’m here for you. I always have been, and always will be.” He felt everything, he knew he was really there with him. Kihyun placed a soft kiss on Changkyun's cheek and hugged him tight.

Tears poured from Changkyun’s eyes. “I’m... s-so... sorry” He choked out. “I feel like I let you down. I… I just miss-ed you so much… and I- I didn’t know what else to do.” He tried his best to form the words he wanted to say, but his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and marshmallows.

“You have done no such thing. Just relax now.” Changkyun slowly broke into small convulsions in his limbs as his body began to shut down.

“You’re here with me now Changkyun. Everything will be ok, I promise.” His whole body was twisting itself now as Kihyun held tightly onto him. He couldn’t control it anymore. He felt himself slipping away as he lost all sense of physical being. His body didn't belong to him anymore, and it was as if it were fighting to contain Changkyun within.

“Just let go Changkyun.”   Changkyun choked a laugh and began to violently seize. He pitifully twisted and writhed while Kihyun whispered sweet things into his ear still holding onto him tight until he finally went limp and one tiny sigh escaped his drenched lips.

The apartment was quiet now; Changkyun was lying lifeless in front of the living room couch when a breeze lazily swelled into the room from an open window. The sun had begun to set and it seemed the whole world stopped in this moment.

Just then, a knock from the door broke the silence.   “Changkyun?” Wonho’s muffled voice echoed throughout the apartment and he knocked again. “Changkyun are you home? I’ve been trying to text you for days now and it isn’t like you not to answer. Hello?”

#mxnetwork #mxwriters #changkinet #dependence #changki angst #monsta x angst

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Learning About You

Hey, so my friend @oversaturated-ocean had an amazing idea for a Hamliza boarding school AU and it just begged for me to write it. So here it is, in all its fluffy smutty glory.

Aaron had quickly learned to vacate their dorm whenever Alexander Hamilton showed up, either into sleep or into Dosia’s room or, hell, even the roof would do. Anything was better than sharing a confined space with that guy.

In fairness, Alex’s visits to the place he was supposed to sleep, unwind and relax were few and far between, given that the young man didn’t seem to have much interest in any of that. He’d fall asleep at his usual desk in the library with a blanket around his shoulders, deliverance from the kind hearted and sympathetic librarian, or pass out on one of his friend’s dorm room floors, a safe option as they all worked hard to keep him from the absolute brink of self-destruction, or, worst, just forgo sleep all together, preferring to blink and miss the night hours with the help of as many types of chemical stimulant as he could sneak past room inspections.

Still, the few occasions Aaron did see his roommate were enough for him to know definitively that the square footage of their room wasn’t nearly enough to make his bristling, acerbic personality bearable. Not nearly enough.

Fortunately, after a semester and a half’s worth of arguments, lines drawn in chalk across the room, thrown books and two am knocks on the RA’s door, fate intervened before student services or the easy solution of throwing Alex out of a window could.

But some things would never change.

Aaron groaned and closed with book with a firm, exasperated snap when he heard Alex’s laughter echoing down the length of the corridor. The kid was in a better place but he wasn’t any easier to live with, even if the reason had changed.

The reason that became immediately apparent as the door burst open and Alex’s back became visible. Just his back, the rest of him was preoccupied with kissing Eliza Schuyler so furiously and audibly Aaron wondered if he’d even vaguely considered the possibility that there might be another human being within visible distance. He rolled his eyes and politely averted his eyes from Eliza’s hands pulling at Alex’s shirt, Alex’s long hair ruffled from her grasping hands, her legs wound around his hips. He knees high socks were somehow neat as ever.

Eliza instantly established herself as one of the nicest girls any of them had ever met, kind and sunny and positive, genuine and sweet even though her surname was on half of the buildings and halls and trophies in Columbia Boarding School. The fact that of all the young people here, of everyone in senior year, everyone on the whole planet even, Eliza chose to date Alexander Hamilton, was of great surprise to everyone. And yet here they were, an undeniably cute couple, even though Aaron failed to see it here as they frantically kissed and fumbled at each other.

It had been like this ever since they’d started dating. Alex ate and drank more often, he didn’t stay up all night, he smiled and showered and didn’t get into (as many) fights and arguments. Aaron and the rest of Alex’s friends were monumentally relieved for his safety and mental health.

Though he did have this to deal with now.

“Nice to see you two,” Aaron sighed as he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, “Good study session?”

Aaron had a flair for irony.

Eliza’s dark, glitter bright eyes looked at him from over Alex’s shoulder. If her heart shaped face hadn’t already been reddened and coloured like a rose in springtime, she’d have blushed.

“Oh! Sorry, Aaron,” she panted, offering him an embarrassed smile, “It was…unproductive?”

“Uh huh,” he raised one eyebrow at the way Alex was currently nuzzling at Eliza’s collarbone. He wasn’t surprised that not an awful lot of studying had taken place, “Well, I’ll get out of your hair…”

Eliza opened her mouth but could only give a small, delighted yelp as Alex swung around and dropped her down onto his bed. Aaron edged his way past them, awkward in the small space, though he didn’t forget to nudge the box of condoms on his roommates’ bedside table just a little bit closer so it could be easily grabbed from the bed. Don’t say he didn’t care about his ass of a roommate.

As he did, Alex looked up at him, somewhere in the middle of yanking his school shirt up over his head and clambering over Eliza, to pull her close, and grunted, “Oh. Didn’t see you there, Burr. Scram, I need the room.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and waved away Eliza’s apologies.

“This is the last time, I promise! And I know I said that last time but…um…m’sorry…”

Eliza became distracted by Alex’s lips on her own, his hands moving up her body, disappearing under her rumpled blouse and her voice was lost.

Aaron took that as his cue to make himself scarce and he pulled the door of room 1-7-8-0 closed behind him, making his calm, quiet way down to the girl’s dorms. Maybe Dosia would be up for another midnight walk through the school grounds…

Eliza had gotten so close to Alex in the short time they’d been together, she’d given herself to him as generously as he’d given himself to her and she’d learned his many, subtle languages by heart. Alex never just used words, sometimes there were cries for help in the days he didn’t brush his hair, reassurances in the way he’d sometimes sing in the shower on the days his mood was soaring, unspoken thinks bothering him and poisoning his mind in how tense his shoulders were some mornings as he sat in front of her in French class.

And now, there was hesitation in the way they kissed. Though it wasn’t obvious physically, in the hurried way they stripped off the hot, stifling school day and left only their burning skin and hasty, searching hands and lips. But Alex was a little…distant. Distracted. It was a power of ten lower in intensity than usual. The bedsprings were barely screaming.

Eliza searched for more information, opening her mouth under his, sliding her tongue across his, seeing how Alex’s muscles responded. And she had her answer as his long, hungry fingers slid under the soft cup of her bra.

Her Alex was sad. He was tired and scared and uncertain.

Eliza knew exactly why.

Just three days and then they’d break for Easter. Alex would have to pace and prowl and scuff his way through two weeks here alone with nowhere else to go while Eliza was with her family. No work to distract his restless mind, no friends to make him feel like he had a place in the world, no Eliza telling him she loved him with every breath and squeezing his shoulder as she passed and leaving little notes tucked in the lid of the desk when she knew he had the same seat in the class after hers.

No wonder he was scared. No wonder there was that second’s hesitation in every single kiss, that heartbeat of asynchrony in the way their bodies moved over each other.

But Eliza knew how to fix it.

“Alex?” she breathed softly, in the panting, heavy moments between kisses.

“Hmm?” he murmured, lost somewhere in the valley of her throat and what of her chest he’d exposed in his frantic undoing of her blouse buttons.

“Can I…can I try something?” Eliza looked up at him, reaching up and gently pushing a little hair behind his ear, “If you’re uncomfortable with it, we can stop straightaway but I think…I think you might be into it?”

The smile that grew across Alex’s narrow face was like the dawn breaking, hopeful and bright and achingly beautiful.

It became very clear over the two minutes it took for Eliza to extract one of Alex’s blue and green ties from the mess around his side of the room, rippling out from the epicentre of his bed, take it and loop it carefully around his wrists so they had to remain pinned behind his back while she slowly slid off the rest of his clothes, that Alex was very, very into this idea.

“Yes?” Eliza smiled hopefully, her thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, feeling the heat and pressure building just under the light fabric.

“Oh. Oh g-god, yes,” Alex ground out, looking at his girlfriend like she was his own personal goddess.

And that was it, she had her Alex back.

Eliza had grown so confident in what didn’t feel like all that long of a time, quickly and excitedly learning what she wanted to get and adored giving, even able to daydream and imagine, having actual fantasies to play out across the stage of Alex’s body. She’d fallen in love, simply and now she wanted to show it with all the enthusiasm and reckless abandon of a teenager, every way she could.

“Just lie back for me, beautiful,” she murmured as she finished rolling the condom onto him, pressing his back to the pillows, adoring how his eyes never left her face like it was all he could see in the world.

“What are you gonna do?” he breathed, his excitement unable to hide in the bones of his face.

“Love you,” Eliza answered without a pause, finishing what he’d started by dropping her blouse, her skirt, her underwear, scattering them about his floor, strangely thrilled by the idea that someone might come in later and see her underwear brazenly tangled along with his, “Love you as fast and hard as you can take.”

The only answer Alex could give was a strangled moan of want.

Eliza made good on her promise, holding him down by the shoulders, balancing against his muscles as she swung a leg over him. She teased him just a little, rocking her hips against his erection so he could feel how wet she was for him, how the space between her thighs was burning for him, but not have it until she said so.

When Eliza finally did, it was like the simple action, just a shift of her hips had slowed time to a gasping, roiling crawl, robbed both of them of their air, filled them both full of fireworks with their fuses slowly being eaten away.

Eliza was barely even aware of it as her hips began rolling and she began sighing deeply with desire and joy, drawing shrieks of rapture from Alex’s lips as he bucked and arched beneath her.

Of course it wasn’t going to last long, not with them both so worked up and desperate for it but than made it no less sweeter when it did, when Alex roared her name and shuddered deeply right down to his bones and a few seconds later when Eliza was so gripped she couldn’t even speak, throwing her head back so her hair fell in a deep black waterfall, feeling as if a beautiful flower was opening up inside her.

Neither of the two young people so in love they were drunk on it needed to say anything until after Eliza had untied Alex and rubbed sensation back into his wrist and cuddled him thoroughly, covering his cheeks in fluttering kisses. Only then, in the darkness cut by the orange safety lights outside, curled up as close as the laws of geometry would allow, naked skin on naked skin and heartbeat against heartbeat, did Eliza speak up.

“You know I’ll be coming back, Alex,” she whispered, cuddling up to his chest, “And I’ll think about you every minute we’re apart.”

Alex buried his face in her hair, “I know. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You better be,” Eliza chuckled, feeling sleep rise up in her chest to claim her.

Alex chuckled too, the vibrations running through his chest, “I will. I love you, Betsey.”

“I love you too, Alex.”

#hamliza #smut #fluff #ficlet #boarding school au #high school au #alexander x eliza #please reblog if you like it!

[onepiecefeatstuff]

Eternal | A Sanami fanfic | Part 2

Author note: This part of my madness is also highly influenced by War and Peace by Tolstoy, and The Great Comet of 1812, so every similiarity is not a coincidence but intentional. Easter eggs for everyone!

I hope you like it! ♥

A long time passed by until he saw her again. It was the 19th century, and this time, they were both in Russia. A Moscow before the flames, before the war with the French was so close that all celebrations stopped to evacuate. It was a Moscow filled with light, with music, with glee; that no eternal creature of that time would ever want to miss. Sanji was there because everyone was there, and truthfully, he heard of the most amazing ladies with bare arms and necks were in the capital of Russia. Plus he had the advantage of a cold and dark winter, which meant there was a smaller chance of sunrays burning his skin. Russia seemed like a perfect destiny.

He had been introduced to a world of posh parties and ballrooms, opera houses and mansions. In the privileged elite of Russia, everyone had their respective titles. Sanji heard the word “prince” so many times before the actual name of the person he was introduced to, it seemed like it had lost all sense of it. However, he decided to take it, too. Prince Sanji seemed to cause more effect than just Sanji, or no name at all. And there it was again: the image of the redheaded witch he met some centuries ago, and how he didn’t even catch her name. For all that he knew, she might have died and he would never find out. Or she could be alive and in Moscow. The single ray of hope never had vanished, even if he always ended up disappointed. He couldn’t help but to wonder if fate would ever cross them again, and most importantly, when would it be. And whenever he was single, that feeling became stronger.

Sanji ended up liking Moscow. It was a cold city, but there was always a bar nearby to drink vodka, or a fancy ball to attend to. Russianmen had a strange sense of humor, but they were nice, although he learned not to tell anyone he was French. The women were polite, yet very sensual. He could lose himself admiring them in those silky gowns. The vampire pack from Moscow welcomed him with open arms, having heard so great things about his work in other destinations: he had been to Italy, Spain, Germany… Sanji had always liked travelling and discovering new destinies, and if being a creature of the night had a perk it was that it was easy to find a home with other fellow vampires. They were always nice enough to let anyone stay in a couch, or, the fanciest ones, in their hotel (he didn’t know what some vampires had for hotels, but he was more of a restaurant person).

A countess whose name he forgot how to pronounce had invited him to another ball. After days and days of taverns at night and balls every evening, one could say he grew tired of them, but in the end, it was the best entertainment he had. Sometimes he would see a glance from a seelie, a fairy, or other creatures. He found a great werewolf by the name of Andrey, only to discover hours later that almost anyone was named Andrey in Moscow. It was either that, or Nikolai, apparently. He also met a few women named Marya, and some Natashas. If someone were to write a novel about this time, he thought, he could easily name every character after them and it would be the most representative sign of that society. But neither Natasha nor Marya was the name he was looking for in the crowd, in every crowd.

“You look like you could use a drink, asshole” someone told him at his back, and he turned to face the creature he despised more than anyone: Roronoa Zoro, from the Wild Hunt of the fairies. In the stories, he had realized when he first met Zoro, fairies look pure and graceful, but they’re nothing like that. Some are beautiful, but tricky and dark. Others, not even that. Zoro was strong, but stupid. The only thing Sanji was sure of was that he would always tell the truth, as seelies couldn’t lie.

“Nice to see you too, marimo” he muttered, and rolled his eyes.

“I can’t say it’s my pleasure, us hunters can’t lie.” Zoro said, but lend him a glass of vodka. It was always vodka in Russia.

“I can” he told him, taking a sip. It was strong, but he didn’t glitch. “But I won’t.”

Zoro waved him goodbye and walked away from him. It was always like this, their relationship, and he couldn’t describe whether he was a friend or not. They were acquaintances, Sanji thought. Acquaintances who enjoyed messing with each other.

He wandered around the ballroom, with his drink on hand. Some men approached him and he greeted them with courtesy, and he spotted some women pulling their head back and bashing their eyelashes when he came by. Certainly, those were his kind of parties, although he missed some of the greatest wine from France, and the smell of the Mediterranean cooking. And warm blood, of course. In Russia, blood ran colder, quite literally. He felt his fangs pressing his tongue at the thought of blood, and he knew he had to look for a distraction, something that could keep him away from his blood thirst.

That’s when he spotted a large group of men, grouped in a circle, around two ladies who sipped their beverages comfortably sat in a small couch. They both wore gloves and long, silky dresses with no sleeves. Their bare necks were embellished with pearl collars. They dressed so similar, Sanji thought, but looked so different. The taller one had her black hair in a lovely updo, and deep blue eyes that seemed to be staring straight at him. She had a mysterious gaze, as Sanji could not identify whether he was the cause of it, or if it was part of her nature; but when she blinked slowly, and placed her hand on her ear for nothing more than just a second, Sanji recognized the grace that belonged to no other mundane. The grace of a seelie, a real fairy. Not like that stupid marimo from the Wild Hunt. She looked like a black rose: beautiful and fragile, yet deadly. She had as many petals as thorns.

Normally Sanji would rush into the arms of a woman like that without hesitation, but when he looked at the girl beside her, his jaw fell open and if his heart would still be in function, it would skip a bit or even two. The girl had short, ginger hair and big brown eyes, and a familiar smirk on her lips when his eyes met hers. For a second, Sanji swore she winked at him, even; but she soon turned to the crowd of men and laughed like there was nowhere else she would rather be. Someone asked her a question, and while she was answering politely, Sanji got hypnotized by the way she was moving her hands. She had a unique grace and her movements seemed so natural yet so special, as if she was already doing magic. Maybe she was, Sanji thought, and all those men were just as helpless as he was, watching in awe and afraid to move, not daring to break the magical aura they were in.

But unlike the other men, Sanji had been waiting for her to reappear in his life for decades and even centuries, and he wasn’t going to throw away his first shot in a long time. He cleared his throat and walked through the crowd, careful not to hit anyone. The last thing he wanted was to start a punch fight. He did not like to fight with his fists.

The seelie had her head supported by her hand, in a successful attempt to make her look like she was thinking in something really interesting. Her eyes were sparkling when she met his, and she smiled directly at him, playfully.

“I believe we haven’t met, sir” she told him, and the whole audience turned to Sanji. They all seemed to wonder who that stranger was, and how did he get so lucky to be personally recognized by such a woman.

Sanji saw his opportunity to introduce himself like he had rehearsed year after year in case a situation like that would ever come. He had practiced every single word in his speech, and he had it all memorized somewhere in his head. The problem was that he couldn’t find it. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was only able to mumble nonsense.

“Does anyone here have a cat? Because this man seems to have lost his tongue.” The redheaded woman laughed, amused. She had a playful spark in her eyes, and Sanji was sure that she had recognized him. He also was sure that she was enjoying making fun of him, as well as the other men in the room, but he didn’t care about that. Just that look in her eyes was enough for him to take a step forward.

“I’m sorry to inform you that you must be mistaken, my lady” he said, with a little bow. “I am quite friendly with those furry pets.”

“That is a good quality indeed, don’t you think, Robin?” she turned to her older friend, who responded with the same amused tone.

“I do. Lord knows how much we care for those creatures.” Robin said, although Sanji noticed a tiny glitch in her little speech, and how she could be referring to anyone by just saying “Lord”. Seelies couldn’t lie, but they were known for manipulating the truth. “But it is true that my friend here has always felt a natural love for marginalized species.”

Sanji saw his chance in those words, and he lowered his body, turning to the witch.

“I would love to hear all about that, if you’ll allow me.” He said, kissing her hand like a gentleman. “But first, shall I know your name?”

Nami gave him a thoughtful look, then returned to her little laughter. “I don’t know, shall you? It’s only fair if you give me yours.” That said, she took his hand and headed to the center of the ballroom. Sanji looked back at the crowd, now dividing, and Robin winked him an eye.

“Sanji, at your service.” He said, and placed his hand in her hip. “Would you like to dance?”

“I thought I already made it clear” she answered, but placed her hand in his shoulder, and started to lead. “You can call me Nami.”

Sanji couldn’t have explained how they got there, but suddenly they were dancing in the middle of the room. When he recalled that memory hundreds of years later, he would describe it as nothing but electrifying. The atmosphere was intoxicating, with lights and people all around them, but he couldn’t see anything but her face glowing in the light, her hand on his shoulder, her lead.

“How do you like Moscow, little vampire?” she whispered, and he swore that for a moment, he had chills in his undead body.

“At first, I did not like it much.” he admitted “But nights are longer, and coldness is not a problem for a vampire.”

“I believe that what makes a city pleasant is the company” Nami said. “It is such a shame that I can’t stay for much longer.”

Sanji didn’t know where he found the courage and the strength to do so, but he spun her around only to make her fall in his arms again. For a moment, the gaze she gave him made him think that she was going to kill him in that second. But then she smiled, and she heard her giggle, and it sound so pure he wished to have the power to bottle that laugh forever.

“I see you’re making the most of it.” she said “You dragged everyone’s attention, you fool.”

He looked around to see everyone standing still, almost frozen, staring straight at them.

“You give me no choice now.” Nami told him, and dragged him, running. “Time for a disappearance!”

They ran across the room, and fled to the corridors, where she surrounded him in a corner.

“I’m having a déjà vu right now” she purred, and her cat eyes sparkled. He hadn’t known how much he had missed them until that moment. “If you weren’t a vampire, I would have said you look pale.”

“I’m just wondering why did you do that.” He told her, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Yes, he wanted to know why she fled like that, dragging even more attention towards them, but that was like wanting to know when the next catastrophe would happen. Nobody could predict where a hurricane would hit next, and in his mind, Nami was that. She was a force of nature, wild and unpredictable.

“A warlock lives for the drama. If I don’t leave an impression, how will history remember me?” she opened her arms, and for a second, Sanji thought she was about to make a spell. Then again, he didn’t know how warlocks did magic, he had never asked before.

“I know what you’re probably thinking now.” Nami told him, although Sanji wasn’t sure of that. “The rest of the downworlders don’t seem to get it.”

“We don’t get what exactly?” he asked, confused.

“You think it’s stupid to care about our legacy if we’re eternal, but you know what? Eternal doesn’t mean invincible. I can still die, and I think about it every day. I don’t see what’s wrong with wanting people to remember you.”

“I don’t” Sanji said, and rushed to clarify his answer when she looked at him, confused. “I don’t think it’s stupid, I meant. But then again, you could always make a scene in the ballroom with all eyes on you.”

“I like when people look at me, indeed” she responded, getting closer to him. “But I don’t want those shadowhunter idiots to track me down. Plus, I couldn’t have done this if we were still there.”

Before Sanji could ask what she was referring to, she pulled him off the furry jacket he was wearing and kissed him. On his lips. Sanji froze, unable to react to the situation, and when she separated his lips from hers, he touched his lips.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, looking at the ground. His heart didn’t beat anymore, but he felt as if were about to get out of his chest.

“Because I wanted to.” she answered with a devilish smile and a playful look in her eyes. “Take it as a goodbye gift. Things are about to get messy in Moscow and I wouldn’t like to be here to witness it, I would recommend you to do the same.”

She turned over her heels, and Sanji could see her ankles for a second. Thirst and lust were overcoming him, more than ever. It was almost intoxicating. With one little gesture of her hand, she opened a portal, and much to his surprise, Robin appeared on the other side of the corridor, running to her side. He had never asked about their relationship, and now he regretted it. Seelies didn’t have many friends, due to their nature, but they seemed to be really close.

“Wait!” he implored an octave higher than he wanted to. He sounded desperate, and he felt his knees weak. “Where can I send you a letter?”

Robin entered the portal, giving him one last smile, and Nami entered a foot before turning to face him.

“It’s 19th century Russia, little vampire. Women can send letters too.” She said, and waved him goodbye.

#sanami #sanji x nami #one piece fanfiction #nami #sanji #inspiration: shadowhunters

[idreamofdraco]

After that answer to the anon about lucissa you got me wondering if you'd ever write anything family centric as opposed to couple/shipping fic. If so, could I prompt you for a Draco and Lucius post with either 12 or 29? Would be super interesting to see your take on thier interactions as father and son as you say you usually write his parents out!

I write gen or family-centric fics when the inspiration strikes! I just gravitate towards romance because I lack it IRL (and it’s more popular, let’s be real here), lol.

Here’s a gen Malfoys-centric one-shot I wrote last year that might interest you. And here’s a gen Weasley twin fic I wrote a couple months ago, though I wouldn’t blame you if you care more about Malfoys than Weasleys. ;) Everything is post-war and everything hurts.

I went with 12. “I think we need to talk.”

Draco spent most of his time sitting in the labyrinthine garden behind Malfoy Manor. Sometimes he strolled, navigating the paths and the secret passages he’d adored to hide in as a child, racing away from his mother when she determined it was time for supper or a bath. But mostly he sought a bench within the garden’s depths and sat for hours that passed like minutes.

He let the wind stir his thoughts in meandering directions in a way he had never let his thoughts meander before. His aunt Bellatrix had begun teaching him Occlumency at the age of fifteen, but Draco had been naturally gifted in the art. He’d spent his entire life compartmentalizing his thoughts, organizing them into neat categories that shaped the way he viewed and understood the world. That skill had been more than beneficial to him by the time war was waged—it had been lifesaving.

All his life, Draco had heard stories about the Dark Lord and his quest to rid the world of impure blood, to return magic back to the hands of wizards. True wizards. Wizards like Draco and his family. Not pretenders who sullied themselves with Muggles, diluting their perfect blood until it was dull as mud. All his life, Draco had wished he’d had the chance to pledge his allegiance to the cause like his father had, to pledge his life in service to the Dark Lord Voldemort’s noble goal.

Funny how when made into reality, dreams could actually reveal themselves as nightmares.

Draco didn’t like to think about the war, but the way he naturally organized his thoughts caused him to chase the tails of memories until a cascade of them fell over him, drowning him under their weight. If he accidentally reached into the Hogwarts box, he might find himself tumbling into the Potter box and then the War box and then the Battle of Hogwarts box. And then he’d be barraged with images of classmates and family friends dying around him as he failed over and over again to capture Potter, to end the war in the Dark Lord’s favor, to earn some glory for himself. As he failed to make his parents proud.

He’d be trapped in boxes if he let himself think that way.

So instead he cleared his mind and let the balmy summer breeze tease the hair at the nape of his neck, caress his cheek, and swirl his thoughts into eddies that collapsed and reformed too quickly to allow Draco to fixate on just one. He breathed with the wind, letting himself exist outside of his identities and allegiances for the first time in his life.

He wasn’t sure how long his father sat next to him before Draco realized he was there.

Lucius seemed to hold his breath, waiting for Draco to say something first, but Draco just stared into a hydrangea bush, caught by the way the wind kissed the petals.

“I think we need to talk,” Lucius said finally.

“Do we?” Draco’s voice cracked, rusty from disuse.

“Your mother seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

Lucius frowned, but Draco hardly noticed. A box had opened in his mind, and a memory snuck out.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy,” Potter had said, and, suddenly, all of the eyes in the Great Hall turned to Draco as he shoved through the crowd, looking for his parents.

The Elder Wand. Draco didn’t know what that was. He owned a wand no longer. The hawthorn wand he’d owned since the age of eleven was clutched in Potter’s grubby fingers, pointed in the Dark Lord’s direction. His mother’s wand, which she had given to him to use after Potter had stolen his at Easter, had burned with the Room of Hidden Things thanks to Crabbe.

The tool that signified Draco’s power was gone. He had certainly never wielded something called the Elder Wand.

“...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy,” the Dark Lord said.

Draco froze in fear at the casual mention of Draco’s death. Everyone’s attention turned back to the spectacle in the center of the room, and he used their distraction to move through the crowd again, to continue searching.

His mother found him first, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, suffocating him in her trembling grasp. His father joined them moments later.

“We should go,” his mother whispered, trying to remain unnoticed as Potter and the Dark Lord exchanged more words. “Before anyone notices. We should leave.”

Draco tugged on his mother’s hand, urging her toward the Entrance Hall, the great oak doors, the grounds—to freedom.

But his father hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a blast of red and green light. Draco and his parents turned, struck dumb by the golden flames that erupted in the center of the Great Hall where the Dark Lord and Potter’s spells collided.

And then the Dark Lord fell backward, his body meeting the flagstones with a hideous, final thump.

“I do. Of course I do,” Lucius said, and Draco blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. “I failed you. You and your mother both.”

Draco finally looked away from the hydrangeas, only to be met with the sight of his father rubbing his palms along his thighs; his hair combed—barely—but in disarray; a thin, pale beard obscuring his chin and jaw; dark circles under his eyes.

A mess. Lucius Malfoy looked a frightful mess. His appearance might have suggested the Dark Lord still lived, sharing quarters with the Malfoys as he had months ago in the war’s wake.

Narcissa Malfoy had strapped herself in the armor of her appearance, and Lucius Malfoy had shed it entirely.

Lucius’s icy gaze, the one Draco had inherited from him, pierced Draco in the area of his beating heart. The bothersome organ pounded in his chest, bringing him back to life in a way Draco had not experienced in years.

His eyes stung, and he turned his head away, far away, to keep his tears from his father’s notice.

“I’m the one who failed. Maybe everything would be different if I hadn’t—”

“No, Draco.” Lucius’s voice was gruff and firm. The first hint of anger Draco had heard from him in months.

Lucius grasped Draco’s shoulders and forcefully angled him until they were facing each other and did not release him afterward.

“Buf it I hadn’t Disarmed Dumbledore, the Elder Wand—”

“No. Don’t even think it. There is no use thinking of what could have been.”

Lucius pulled Draco into his arms, his embrace hard and confining, not soft and comforting. But that was just what Draco needed at that moment. He needed someone to keep him together, to keep his pieces from shattering into even tinier shards. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder and cried as silently as he could. His shoulders shook in his agony, and his father held him tighter, shame a faraway emotion as Draco released the tension he’d been hiding and holding for months.

How many times since the war had Draco examined his memories, analyzed his every action, wondering what other tiny, meaningless moments had changed the tide of a battle? If he had known that letting Snape Disarm and kill Dumbledore in his stead would have won them the war, Draco would have swallowed his pride and let Snape have the honor. Either way, he’d been spared the horror of murdering someone in cold blood, but at what cost? What did the future hold in store for the Malfoys now?

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, his voice muffled. Sorry for losing them the war, sorry for causing the Malfoys’ ruination. Sorry for not being able to save his parents after his father’s own failures.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Lucius said, his voice cracking, as if holding back his own tears, which was impossible. Lucius Malfoy never cried. “You’re my son.”

He said it as if that was the only thing that mattered, as if that absolved Draco of everything. Maybe it did.

The garden was the only place Draco felt safe. The only place that stood outside of time and memory. The only place he could think without obsessing, exist without guilt, feel without pain.

But in his father’s arms, Draco found forgiveness.

#draco malfoy #lucius malfoy #my stories #ask idod #ask things #meme things #Anonymous

[be-a-good1]

Coming Out Story

Here I am, 27 years old and I was the absolute last person to find out I was gay. This blog is mainly a mind dump for me and hopefully becomes a sounding board for others who may be going through this too.  So, here we go... 

These things are always hard to start off, so I’ll start with the memory of elementary school.  I remember clearly having the resilience of a child, falling and scraping my knees.  If we do it now it’s the WORST, but back then, the scrapes were just a part of growing up.  Everything was just okay when we were swinging on the swing sets, playing basketball, soccer, or tag. No one really had a label in elementary school (at least none that I can remember). Thinking back, some of my best friends were boys.  Mainly because I loved sports, not to mention literally every time a girl screamed because a basketball or soccer ball whizzed by their face, I just wanted to smack them. Things started to change when I got into 3rd or 4th grade.  Girls in my school started talking about kissing boys, and that interested me.  I wanted to try it out, so me and a few of my friends thought, “Why don’t we practice kissing on each other that way when the time comes to kiss a boy we will be prepared?” I remember one friend and I would kiss just to kiss when we were by ourselves.  To me, this was innocent fun. I felt like I was on top of the world, and I honestly really enjoyed making out with my friends.  

In 4th grade, I remember talking to a boy. We were kind of seeing each other at the time, mainly communicating through notes passed secretly during class time. One day, a note with “Do you like me, check yes or no” fell on to my desk. I got ballsy and sent a note back with, “will you kiss me and I'll let you know...” written on it. I remember feeling super nervous and excited about this transaction.  He said yes, and days were spent concocting a plan to meet on the field during recess. Teachers at the time were extremely watchful of guys and girls together on the playground, so we had to be extremely careful. I was so nervous, and had convinced myself that if kissing girls gave me a ton of butterflies in my stomach, that kissing boys was going to rock my world. The time finally came when we got our chance to kiss.  We had our friends poised as lookouts for teachers or other kids that would mess up our fragile plan. He leaned in, and my lips touched his. Everything that I had built up in my head just shattered.  I felt absolutely nothing.  Actually, I felt cheated.  It was nothing against him, he was a very sweet boy. It just did not even compare to the way it felt to kiss my friends.

During 5th grade, I remember talking to my mom about girls. I was very careful not to reveal my attraction to them (see as how I would be severely punished if she found out), but I would comment on how other girls were pretty. As soon as I said anything, my mother would tell me that it was okay to acknowledge the beauty of another woman but that was the line. She made it clear that OUR family will not have a homosexual in it, and I was told that I wasn’t allowed to live that lifestyle.  Being gay and bringing someone of color home were equal acts of transgression in my parent’s household. My mother and father raised me in a very Southern Baptistä household.  The Pastor of the church that we attended was my father's best friend throughout High School.  It's funny looking back at that friendship because I had always heard about my father’s wild past deeds. I would try to get out of going to this church because I felt like the teachings were ancient, and if God loved everyone, why is it not okay for me to like who I wanted to like? My parents would tell me that being gay was wrong, that it was a horrible sin. I was told that I would go to hell if I even kissed the same sex or had feelings for the same sex. I was also told that one of two things would happen if I told him I like girls. 1: They would beat me until I realized that it was wrong, or 2: My dad would go to prison because he would kill me. Obviously, that instilled a sense of fear in me that has lasted many years. I cut ties with all of my friends and denied sleepover invitations.  I tried to get away from it all. Being an only child put a lot of pressure on me to absolutely avoid anything that could make my parents disappointed in me.

6th grade began and all of my “best friends” from elementary school were now scattered around in different friend groups.  What we used to do is kept a careful secret because we were in middle school now, and everybody was fearfully avoiding getting labeled. While in 6th grade, I remember meeting this one girl.  We became best friends after hanging out all summer long. She had a pool, and would always invite a bunch of friends over to swim. After swimming in the pool, we would all end up stripping off our wet suits and shower the chlorine off together. One day, I leaned in and kissed her while we were hanging out. She was taken aback, but ended up kissing me back. The next week, she told me her parents were moving to Florida, and of course she was going with them.  Her parents told her to exchange emails with me to keep in touch, but we never did. I felt like that was a sign for me, that God was punishing me. I couldn’t talk about this with my parents, however, because I feared how they would react. So instead of acting on this opportunity, I swept it under the rug and pretended like it never happened.

           In 7th grade, I had my first ‘real’ boyfriend.  My mom was a school bus driver and he was on her route. We lived deep in the country, and I would ride to and from school with her because no school busses went as far out as we lived. I remember holding hands in the back of the bus, meeting up behind the stage in the gym and making out during lunch.  It was fun to pass the time, but I honestly felt nothing by it. I knew this is what he wanted, and I just liked the company. We were broken up by the end of the eighth grade.

           High school was the worst, especially in a Podunk town where everyone seems to be aware of what you do even before you do. You cannot do anything without your parents getting a call from another adult so that, by the time you got home, a sufficient punishment was already laid out for you.

I think high school marked my worst era of depression.  My hatred for myself and where I lived caused me to think about ending my life several times throughout the course of high school. I started cutting, only scratches at first. Then, I realized the pain was something I could control, and it went on that way. I met my best friend because of this, but still felt like I had to hide my past from her because I didn’t want her to think I was hitting on her. I just wanted and needed a friend.  She was the exact opposite from me, preppy and popular, and exactly the type of girl I hated earlier in my life. However, if I hadn’t had her friendship, I don’t think I would have made it out of high school.

I think one of the hardest times I had was when I lost my grandfather (I call him Papa) on my mother’s side. I remember spending all of my time at his house on the weekends when I was growing up. I thought Papa and Nanny were the cutest.  He was the hometown mechanic and she was a volunteer at the local hospital.  She would always take me shopping, except unlike my parents, she would tell me to get whatever I felt comfortable in. Usually, this meant jeans and t-shirts instead of the frilly dresses that my mom and dad favored. Occasionally, my Nanny would buy me dresses for holidays to keep my parents happy. I definitely did not have a say when it came to what I wore for family photos.

One day, Papa took me out to buy an Easter dress to wear to the upcoming Easter service. Nanny was busy at the hospital that day, and my parents had to work. I found this awesome Adidas track suit in the department store that I fell in love with immediately. Papa bought it for me, along with some jeans and sneakers for me to wear. HE dropped me off at home later, no dress to show for the day of shopping we did. He was promptly chewed out by both of my parents. His response sticks with me to this day, “Let her wear what she wants to, if I had gotten her a dress she would have wore it for an hour and we’d never see it again.” This was very true, as over the years I came up with many creative ways to make my dress clothes magically disappear. This day will always be one of my favorite memories of him.

When I found out he had passed, I wanted to so very much go with him. He died outside while he was working on a car, from what seemed to be a heart attack. After it happened, Nanny couldn’t bring herself to stay at the house for a little while, so I was given the task of dropping by their house and grabbing whatever she needed.  I would get there and lay down where they found him.  I just wanted to know what happened. How did he feel before? Did he know he was dying? Was he in pain? Did he think about us?  Why did God do this, why did he take him away? How high up in the sky is heaven?  Is it even there? I would lay there, angry, thinking about how nothing else mattered. The one man who stood up for me is gone.  If he were here today, I am sure he would have accepted me and loved me unconditionally.  He may not have agreed with it, but I know he wouldn’t be punishing me for being myself.  

Fast forward to my freshman year of college. I was finally getting a grip on the semester when I got a call that my Nanny was being rushed to the hospital. Within two days we found out that she had colon cancer, and they told us she had two months to live.  Those two months ended up being two weeks, and that caused me to lose the last bit of me that I had a grip on.  I lost hope within myself and trusted no one. One day, while laying where they found my Pops, I promised him that I would take care of her. I felt like I failed him even though I knew wasn’t my fault.  Nanny had grown more and more on me. After Pops died, I made sure her car was washed, lawn was cut and helped around the house.  I felt like I was needed and appreciated. Now, nothing felt real to me anymore and the only thing that felt right was depression. I felt bad for my mother, who I vividly remember yelling “I’m an orphan” after Nanny passed.  I was mad at the nurses, the doctors, I blamed everyone including myself for our loss, and I felt so very alone.

The rest of college was semi okay for my mental health.  I moved out from my parent’s house and got an apartment near campus.  I started working at this little seafood restaurant near my apartment.  My father told me that he would pay for my apartment if I wanted to quit work and focus on school more.  I didn’t want to, I wanted to focus on being self-sufficient, but school became too much for me, so I accepted his offer. After a year of still being under his thumb, I began to feel more and more repressed around my parents. The fact that I depended on them made me feel worse.  

College really opened my eyes.  Even though I was in a very small technical college, the professors were very liberal and very open about it.  It was different to go from a high school where every teacher was a devout Republican and where every student knew you to a school full of people that did not get in your way or in your business.  I think it was a kind of a mutual understanding that we were all there to do our time and get out into the “real world”.  During college, I found an outlet in music, and I met a guy whom I ended up dating for over eight years. Looking back at it now, I laugh because I never really knew how gay I truly was.  Him and I started a band that traveled to SXSW and went on 3 successful month-long tours that traversed the United States.  I grew a lot with him and a lot more without him. I regret nothing when it comes to being in that relationship because if I didn’t go through that, I wouldn’t be where I am today: happy and so, so healthy.

I started waitressing at a local pizza joint to save up some money for tours and biIls. I’m not going to lie, was depressed.  I felt like I wasn’t me, like the skin I was in just wasn’t made out for me. I remember wanting to end it all.  Every relationship I was in with friends, family and myself, felt fake.  Everything felt like a movie that I was watching and not able to live out myself. Anxiety was bad because that was the time I felt the most in my skin and that alone is never healthy.  I was self-sufficient, nice new car, was touring the country and playing music.  But for some reason I was missing something, myself.  Something changed though, I met her.  

At the time, I was smoking cigarettes occasionally to just stop the stress.  For some reason that took away the pain for me. It was a stressful Friday night at work (Fridays are our busiest days) and I needed to vent to someone, anyone. So, I took a smoke break and Maddy (who also only smoked occasionally) joined me. While we were chatting outside and sharing a cigarette, I felt something.  She listened, she looked me in my eyes when I spoke and she had the best advice. I enjoyed talking with her. She gave me butterflies, and when she spoke it was the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

At the time, the guy I was with had his own company that wasn’t self-sufficient and I was pretty much the cash cow. I remember bailing him out on a lot of our bills that should have been 50/50.  The band ended up breaking up, that was what hurt the most.  I couldn’t express myself and let go on stage anymore like I needed to. That was my release instead of self-harm. I didn’t want to believe I was being used but she saw it and brought it to light.  We eventually cut it off, he moved out.  I wish him nothing but good and I hope he finds happiness.

A few days later, she invited me to grab coffee at a small coffee shop.  I was sweaty-palms, knee-shaking nervous. Just sitting at the table with our coffee I could feel the tension between us. I invited her back to my place to hang out, and she accepted.  Back at my house we sat on the couch both on separate ends. I was dying to be close to her, every glance she flashed at me made my stomach tie in knots.  After a more nervous hug goodbye, I watched her leave and went upstairs and sat in my closet (the irony, right).  My closet was my safe space, the clothes inside made the room semi sound proof, in a way that made my head feel fuzzy and stopped my thoughts long enough for me to relax. One night I had a few drinks in me and decided to send her a Snapchat.  I told her how she made me feel, I told her she was gorgeous and I really, really liked her. After pressing send, I turned my phone off and back on so many times.  I talked myself into it being okay.  Finally, I saw where she was responding back to me.  I broke out in a cold sweat and I wanted to throw up.  The message popped back up saying she felt the same about me.  If ever there was a fire inside of me, it was now. I wanted nothing but to make her happy.  

The following days we sent risky texts back and forth, learning more about each other as best as we could.  I was so happy learning everything about her. She was the most beautiful creature and so unique, and the more I learned about her, the more I fell for her.

After Several more house dates of watching TV, our pinkies touched and we intertwined them. Instantly, I was in a cold sweat again, my stomach erupting into millions of butterflies.

The first time she kissed me I kicked her out. I was such a fool.  I had something so perfect in front of me and all I could think about was pleasing other people, instead of being happy.  In my heart, she was the one I wanted but in my head my parent’s words resonated in my head.  Then I thought about it, once I kicked her out she could have easily left and never spoken to me again.  But, for some reason she understood me and what was going on in my head and she broke me down slowly.  The next time she kissed me, I said “Gross”. I was mortified that I had said that. Of course, it didn’t phase her.  The more she came over the more comfortable we got with each other.  It went from casual downstairs pecks between scenes in movies to upstairs with the doors closed and music blasting.  I can 100% tell you that when she kissed me there was no doubt in my mind anymore. I finally felt like I was in my own skin.

Once I asked her to be my girlfriend she didn’t answer me.  She got quiet, and normally I would have just left because I don’t take rejection too well. But she was different, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to prove to her I could be everything that she wanted.  I asked if she would like for me to leave, and she declined and then finally, FINALLY said she would be mine. The more we saw each other the more open we became.  We both were some pretty toxic people at the beginning, but we worked on bettering ourselves every day for each other. She has a past and that really got to me and occasionally still does but we are both two entirely new people because we work on supporting each other and loving each other every day.

Dating a woman was all new to me. Everything seemed so easy, I never had to explain why I felt the way I did.  She knew it was just a small obstacle I had to get over and she was there to help me if I fall.  When the time of the month came around, she would show up and sit with me as I lay in the tub with the shower going till I felt better.  If something was bothering me she would fight the demons with me till I was able to get my feet back on the ground.

I am happy.  For once I felt like I was in my own skin.  On top of it all, I couldn’t have a better group of friends to accept us so quickly.  They didn’t skip a beat and they love us unconditionally. My parents were a different story.

Throughout all of this I really wanted my parents on board with my new relationship.  It’s not going to come easy but I do have to say, it does get better. I really wanted to talk to my mother face to face but It would have been super hard to do that without my father being there. If I would have spoken to her over the phone, one of two things would have happened.  I would have either chickened out or she would have hung up on me and would not let me speak.   The best way I could have done it would be send her a message. Those were the longest 2 hours of my life.  The first hour of her receiving it, the small typing bubbles popping up ... then going away for the next hour. It needed to be done, though. It felt right, it felt good getting it off my chest.

“Mom, I’m gay.”  

Mom hasn’t been the same since.  Both of my parents were very supportive of me until I “betrayed” them with this lifestyle. As long as I was living “the way God intended”, I could do no wrong in their eyes. I haven’t spoken to my father for close to a year now.  Every time I try to speak to my mother I hear him in the background saying “brainwashed” or calling me a “faggot”. The don’t seem to care that I am happy and healthy. To top this all off, I am the only child.  This past year I was told that I wasn’t allowed to come to any holiday functions.  I missed Thanksgiving with my family, and when Christmas came around, I received a call from my mother, her crying and saying that she wanted to see me. I told her that I could see her and would love to.  She turned down my offer, saying she doesn’t want to see me “like this” and that once I change and “find God” she would welcome me back into her life.

Along with the phone calls from my mother saying I that I have “abandoned her” or that I am “killing her”, I’ve received a Bible, old photos, opened mail addressed to me and personal items from my childhood.  All of this was mailed to me because she does not want to meet up or be near me.  I’ve spent countless hours trying to reach out to her, but instead of an actual conversation, I get her crying over the phone that eventually turns to screams of her telling me how much I’ve betrayed her.  Out of all of this, one line hurt me particularly bad: “I don’t want you to be like this. I don’t wish you were dead, I just wish you never were born.  This isn’t you.  I want my daughter back” It cut me deep, and if I were the person I was earlier, I probably would have killed myself. I’m glad I didn’t come out to them in high school, or I know I would have been kicked out of my house or worse.

Coming out at 26 has been the best year of my life.  At times, I used to look in the mirror and not recognize who I was seeing. Sometimes I would repeat my name to myself because I would be so dissociated that I would think it was crazy that my name was Cassie.

I would say I have some of the best friends ever.  I went from a severely unhappy relationship to the happiest I think I could ever be.  When I came out to them, the reaction I received was either “Are you happy?” or “It’s about time!”  (thanks for not letting me know guys). The best part is, they love Maddy to death.  Friends can be your best family.  If I have learned anything in this journey it’s this, life can and will fuck you over.  Friends will come and go.  Family can sometimes be your biggest support system or your worst enemy.  But, if you can survive the battle of finding yourself and being truly happy with who you are, you will be unstoppable.  Your true friends will always be by your side and support you unconditionally.  Friends are Family and if you are going through this and you feel alone, I’ll be your friend.  I’ll be your family.  Things will get better, I promise.  

If ever you’ve found your soulmate, you know.  Everything stops in the world when you are with them.  Nothing else matter other than the time you are with them.  Everything that they do is just a work of art.  This girl knows me inside and out. She knows exactly how to make me happy in every single aspect and she does it daily.  As I sit here writing this blog, she’s in my bed taking small naps between her school work, and I realize how lucky I am.  She supports me to the fullest, wants to see me succeed, but also takes no shit from me.  She will tell me how it is in a heartbeat.  I hope I can provide for her and give her the queen lifestyle she deserves.  She is always front row when my band has a show.  She is the first person I call when something good or bad happens.  She makes me feel so good about myself.  More importantly she makes me feel like dreams are a reality.  She will not rest until I am happy.  I don’t know where I would be if she didn’t come into my life, but I am so happy she did.

How can a love like this, someone who builds you up, picks you up when you fall and makes you the happiest and healthiest person you’ve ever been, be hated by the people who raised you?  How can the people that said while you were in the womb “I don’t care what it is, as long as they are healthy” be so caught up with a line I will never stop hearing, “it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”? I will have to admit that growing up under my parent’s law, really made me who I am today. I do not by any means want to call them out on all their wrong doings.  It’s simply an old school generation thing with how they were brought up.  Is it acceptable? No, and it’s not an excuse.  I will have to say despite all that I have said about them in this blog, they use to be very supportive of me on the things that they deemed healthy for me.  They gave me everything I needed growing up, they worked hard to keep food in my belly and the lights on in the house.  For that I would like to thank them for working overtime for me to go on school trips, summer vacations, paying for school lunches, rent, car payments, etc. Thank you for providing for me when I was unable to provide for myself.  They loved me and supported me to the fullest when they could live vicariously through me. That being said, taking care of a child’s immediate needs is only half the job. Loving them and caring for them unconditionally is the second half, and in my opinion, the most important half.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this novel.  I hope it helps someone out there.  Just know that you are perfect the way that you are.  Love is love.  If you find someone and that rocks your world, makes you the happiest you ever thought you could be, and brings out the best in you, that love is between you and them. You are the person that lives your life, no one else can live it for you.

Go out and be happy.    

-Po-z

#comingout #lbgtq #lesbian #gay #itgetsbetter #pride #pridemonth #loveislove #friendsarefamily #comingoutstories #depression #finding yourself #human rights #love trumps hate