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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.”

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.

My eyes.

“Here, take my jacket.”

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did.

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?

“Jeez, you must be really smart.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.

“What’s yours?” He yelled back.

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.

“Next time?”

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that.

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.”

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.”

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.

I love Spencer.

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?”

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.

I learned, that day, that you do only live once.

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him.

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.

I was pregnant.

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.

“Well, have you taken a test?”

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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tomorrowsdrama · 3 years

Text

2020: A Year in Thirst

In 1985, Gabriel Garcia Marquez gave the world Love in the Time of Cholera. In 2020 (er, I guess it’s now 2021), I give to you, Thirst in the Time of Covid-19 or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace the Thirst, a brief recap of all the dramas I watched in 2020 and whether such dramas made yours truly parched..

The list contains dramas that premiered in 2020, but also dramas from previous years. If I watched it or attempted to watch it in 2020, it’s on the list.

EDIT: Ok, I’m going to have to do this in multiple parts because apparently I watched more dramas in 2020 than I remembered and talking about them all in one post would just be too long.

This also serves as a sort of greeting to all the people who recently followed me. I don’t know how or why, but thank you for being interested in my thirst, and also so sorry for everything you have/will witness here! I started this side blog last December 2019 as a place to dump all my fangirl feels and thirst with unbridled abandon and let’s just say, the thirst REALLY ramped up in 2020 during quarantine and all the political chaos/uncertainty. The state of the world may be uncertain, but my thirst will always be a comforting constant! LOL. If you want to thirst or fangirl/boy together, I’m all ears.

Anyway, let’s start with the drama that was partially the inspiration for this list.

1. The Wolf

Brief Summary: Sweet hot boy raised in the wilderness/by wolves meets sweet beautiful girl and they fall in love. Shitty evil people do shitty evil things to them to cause a misunderstanding and they are separated for years. Sweet hot boy is given the “Sexy Bloody Tormented Killer Makeover” TM and turns into a VERY VERY BAD HOT Wolf Man after being tortured/brainwashed by an evil asshole king who “adopted” him. Bad Hot Wolf Man reunites with sweet beautiful girl but because of third party machinations in the past, he thinks that she betrayed him so he is suuuuuuch an ass to her (while still maintaining hotness). But even beneath the asshattery (and sexy jerky smirks), he can’t help his love for her and it’s just *chefs kiss*. The angst, the pining, the mutual sacrifice for each other, the torment of wanting to be together but not being able to be together because of external forces/circustances, oh I am getting in a tizzy just thinking about it. I won’t reveal anymore so as not to spoil the drama, but just know the ending may destroy you.

Is she thirsty? Am I thirsty? AM I THIRSTY? Oh honey, if you don’t know the answer to that, then you must either be new here or you haven’t been paying attention to any of my posts in the past few weeks. Look, from the first moment the camera panned to Darren Wang’s very well-defined and tan chest and windswept hair, all semblance of shame and dignity I ever tried to feign on this tumblr was immediately thrown out the window. The feelings that he inspired within me were purely primal. My cavewoman ancestor from millennia ago stopped gathering food in the harsh wilderness for a brief second to transmigrate into my body and go “me want big strong man!”

I mean, below is literally our introduction to Wolf Boy. Am I supposed to just witness this and not feel anything? The director knew what he/she was doing. Anybody who worked on the drama who says they didn’t intend to exploit Darren Wang’s assets is a BOLD FACED LIAR. And this isn’t even Wolf boy in his hottest form.

That would be this:

Damn, your girl needs a moment here. When Wolf Boy turns into Bad Hot Wolf Man, wheeeeewww. The things that came out of my mouth and the thoughts that popped up into my head.

Examples of shameless fangirl drooling can be found here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/636986055498792960/dangermousie-this-should-be-illegal-i-mean Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637238885944033280/dangermousie-i-am-fucking-dead-the-end-this Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637793196830769152/dangermousie-wolfie-acquired-a-kid-omg Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/635272988321775616/dangermousie-i-dont-know-about-you-guys-but and here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637621638524977152/dangermousie-hnnnnnnnngh-i-am-beginning-to-forget

Honestly, just check out The Wolf tag on @dangermousie tumblr and you won’t be disappointed. Prepare to become obsessed, horny, and heartbroken.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? Have you ever thirsted so much that you couldn’t separate what reaction was hormonal and what was objective? Like the guy is so hot to you that when your friends ask you what do you like about him, the first 10 things you can think of are “he’s hot!” and then you try to remind yourself that you’re not a shallow person who actually cares about things other than looks but at the same time you can’t for the life of you think of a non-hot based trait that you like about the guy Yeah, that’s what happened here so sorry, I can’t give you an objective opinion. It’s not that there’s nothing objectively good about The Wolf, it’s just that my judgment is too clouded by Darren Wang’s abs and big hands. But from what I can tell by other people’s posts, even if you didn’t thirst for Darren Wang (Are you made of stone? But also, can you please teach me your magic so I can go back to being a semi-functional working woman?), The Wolf is still a very enjoyable drama with its own non-Darren Wang related merits.

2. My Beautiful Bride

Brief Summary: A drama about a strait-laced banker who wears a dorky backpack and rides a bicycle everywhere while wearing the dorkiest looking helmet ever and his beautiful bride-to-be whom he is hopelessly devoted to. This being a kdrama, and an OCN drama at that, things aren’t all what they appear to be. Yes, you read that right, an OCN. ROMANCE. DRAMA. Turns out the beautiful bride-to-be has a dangerous past that soon comes back to haunt her and she mysteriously disappears one day from strait-laced banker’s life in the typical kdrama way to protect him. Part of the reason she leaves him is also because she doesn’t want him to know about her past because she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him. Little does she know, he knows everything about her past and accepts it all. The only reason why he doesn’t bring it up is because he knows she doesn’t want him to know about that part of herself and he loves her so much he’s willing to do anything to make her happy. But also, another thing she doesn’t know is that underneath that boring but perfectly ironed suit, is a finely chiseled, super efficient fighting machine who did his mandatory military service in the special forces. He is like the terminator meets Liam Neeson’s character in Taken. He has a very particular set of skills and will stop at nothing to get his bride back.

Is she thirsty? Please just watch this video and you will have your answer: https://youtu.be/Ut9MhxWadHM

Prior to The Wolf, My Beautiful Bride was probably the most thirst-inducing drama I watched in 2020.

I mean, just look

at this

at all of this

I don’t’ know how Joo Young saw that body and never questioned whether he really was just a banker. The writers of the drama must be super heterosexual men who are blind because so many of the characters in the drama question why someone as beautiful as Joo Young would ever want to be with someone like the banker. Um..Um...aside from the fact that he is financially well off, treats her well, is loving and respectful of her, and prioritizes her over everything else, JUST LOOK AT HIM. I was so thirsty for Kim Mu Yeol in this role that I would accidentally tag this drama as My Beautiful Banker sometimes. The banker was on a relentless one-man mission to take back his bride and turn me on in the process and ooooooh boy was he successful on both fronts. He is seriously sex on legs every time he beats up a baddie in his quest to find answers about Joo Young’s whereabouts.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? I binged the first six episodes of this drama in one afternoon partly because of my thirst, but also partly because it’s a very well made crime-action-gangster drama. This is an OCN drama so you can expect a competently made production with well choreographed/bloody action scenes and a solid script.

3. Scarlet Heart Ryeo / Moon Lovers

Brief Summary: IU plays Hae Soo, a modern woman who is somehow transported back in time to the Goryeo period. There, she gets entangled with a group of royal princes. Her two main love interests are Wang So (played by Lee Jun Ki) and Wang Wook (played by Kang Ha Neul). The princes vie for the throne and some of them for Hae Soo’s affection. Lee Jun Ki does what he does best, which is play a sexy tortured deadly man who looks way too good with blood splattered on his face. Kang Ha Neul is the seemingly kind prince/daddy long legs character who turns out to be not so kind or daddy long leggy. Hae Soo is...well IU did the best she could with what she was given (which was a hot inconsistent mess).

Is she thirsty? Scarlet Heart Ryeo is like the honeypot of thirst traps. It’s essentially a reverse harem set up with a prince for everyone.

Like them young and cute? Then try the 10th prince, Wang Eun.

Want them big, tall, and kinda dumb? Here’s the 14th prince Wang Jung for ya.

Want an evil bastard with an affinity for guyliner? Try out 3rd prince Wang Yo.

Tall, slender, and scholarly? 13th prince Baek-ah will fill your needs.

Is a kind/gentle man who will ultimately disappoint you because he doesn’t show up when you need him most more your speed? Well, let me introduce you to 8th prince, Wang Wook.

Kinda scary but oh so hot and with a ton of baggage? We’re talking, I overpacked and brought 10 overstuffed large suitcases levels of baggage. 4th prince Wang So is the guy for you.

And if you prefer someone with no personality, presence, or memorable traits, I got a two-for-one deal for you in the crown prince Wang Mu and 9th prince Wang Won.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? There is political intrigue, scheming, romance, fluffy hijinks (my least favorite parts of the drama), angst, beautiful costumes, and pretty decent fight scenes. Scarlet Heart Ryeo is a pretty solid fusion/fantasy sageuk mostly thanks to Lee Jun Ki. The only person who has ever carried a larger load on his back is Atlas. I’m not saying all the other actors are horrendous. It’s just very clear that the one elevating the material beyond the inconsistencies/messiness/elementary politics of the script is Lee Jun Ki. Your enjoyment level of the drama will likely increase if you are a fan of any of the main actors.

#the wolf #darren wang #my beautiful bride #kim mu yeol #scarlet heart ryeo #moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo #lee jun ki #kang ha neul #ji soo #cdrama #kdrama

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

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

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

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

December 4

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

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

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

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

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

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

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

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

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

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

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

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

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

Comments:

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

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

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

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

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

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

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

current mood: current music:

Comments:

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

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

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

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

do you even know if he's gay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam leaves.

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

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

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

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

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

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

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

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

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

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

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

rearviewmirror: my whole life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

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

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

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

I don't have class tomorrow.

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

I don't want to move on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Licked

🎉🎉🎉Happy birthday to the woman who started it all (at least started the LBSC exchange where I met all these wonderful crazy people to enable and be enabled by) @justknitstuff / @chromemist ! 🥳 This one’s just for you. Sounds like things have been crazy lately and I hope this makes your day a little bit happier.

Aged-up Lukanette, alternate first meeting

Rated TL for thirsty Luka lol...but there’s nothing explicit or above a T rating. Just a lot of ogling and some innuendo.

Luka’s been Jagged Stone’s guitarist for a couple of years now, and he’s seen lots of things. Weird things. Exciting things. Fun things. Not so fun things.

But Luka’s never seen anything like the designer Jagged flew in a few days ago. Unfortunately for his smitten heart, their first run-in (literally) didn’t go too well, so he’s hoping for a chance to smooth things over. A trip to the zoo, while unexpected, seems like the perfect chance...if he can stop ogling her long enough to remember how words work.

Being Jagged Stone came with a lot of perks.

Being Jagged Stone’s guitarist came with less (and a lot more headaches), but sometimes things trickled down, and so Luka found himself walking through the Australia Zoo, trailing at the back of Jagged’s entourage. The rock star had been invited for a private tour of the zoo, famous for its crocodiles, and Jagged had insisted on bringing “a few of his favorite people” along. (A few was really more like twenty, but when you’re Jagged Stone, nobody does a head count.)

It should have been really cool. Luka loved animals and hadn’t been to a zoo in years, let alone one as big and famous as the Australia Zoo. They’d been brought in through a back entrance, and shown some really cool behind-the-scenes stuff, and the rumor was they were going to get to be more hands-on with the animals than was typically allowed.

Except Luka hadn’t really seen any of the animals they’d been supposed to look at that day, because a week ago, Jagged had flown in a stylist from Paris for some emergency or other. Her work done, she’d been invited along on this tour with them, and Luka was having a hard time looking at anything else.

He’d met her shortly after she arrived, on the tour bus. She’d tripped coming down the steps just as he had started up, and she’d nearly taken him down with her, but Luka had managed to get a hold on the hand rail and keep them both from what would surely have been a painful fall. She’d been awfully embarrassed, and in the midst of some very confused introductions, Luka had made some stupid joke that had only made things worse, and she’d fled from him in a chaotic whirlwind of flustered adorable that had made it necessary for him to sit down on the steps for a moment to calm his pounding heart.

He’d only caught glimpses of her since then as she worked frantically to get Jagged ready for the finale show of this stop on the tour. As cute as she was, and as smitten as Luka had been in that short meeting, he hadn’t dared flirt with her while she was working on such a tough deadline, so other than volunteering to take her food or drinks when craft service brought them in, he’d stayed out of the way. She always flashed him a distracted (stunning) smile when he dropped off her food, but she’d been far too busy for anything more. Luka wasn’t entirely clear on why Jagged needed the new outfit so badly and so immediately, but it was Jagged and nobody even bothered to wonder why he did the things he did anymore.

Besides, no one could deny that the outfit, when it had finally debuted, had been amazing. Unlike most people, Luka had the opportunity to see it up close and take in all the details that would, unfortunately, probably be lost under the heavy lights of the stage. Even so, it was designed to look stunning under those lights, and on camera, and anyone admitted to the privilege of actually meeting the rock star in it would be all the more dazzled.

Luka certainly was. Far more than was really justified by what little contact they had, honestly, but Luka was used to trusting his intuition, and his gut (he was pretty sure it was his gut, though other parts certainly had plenty to say) was telling him that this girl was something special.

This should’ve been the perfect chance to talk to her, smooth things over, make a better second impression, pour on the charm. It would’ve been easier if he had his guitar, but still, he should have been able to make this work.

Except summer in Australia was hot. Luka had ditched his hoodie almost the second they’d gotten off the plane. Even his well-ventilated jeans got swapped for a pair of board shorts at his first opportunity.

So naturally, she was wearing shorts as well, and for such a short woman, she had gorgeous legs. Even her feet were cute in little flowered sandals he suspected she’d decorated herself. It didn’t get any better (or rather, it only got better) when he dragged his eyes above her waist. Her flowy, off-the-shoulder peasant top was somehow completely modest and unbearably sexy at the same time. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, with little tendrils sticking to her neck and bare shoulders or waving on the breeze as she fanned herself with the zoo map.

It was all Luka could do not to ogle her like a creep. How he was ever going to manage to talk to her, he had no idea.

So he hung back, trying to get his bearings and find his usual chill, while his bandmates shot him knowing grins and snickered behind their hands. They didn’t dare embarrass him too publicly, though. Luka had been participating in the annual Couffaine prank war since he was a kid and he was very creative when it came to revenge.

It wouldn’t be that hard to shove one of them into the croc pen, he was sure. Just as an example to the others.

Busy contemplating his retaliation, he stopped automatically when the group stopped, and didn’t realize he was standing behind Marinette until she turned suddenly, brow slightly furrowed in thought, and promptly tripped over his foot and tipped forward with a yelp.

“Whoa!” Luka’s arm shot out and he caught her around the waist, stopping her from falling, but she must have been startled by the sudden grab, because she tried to push him away and nearly fell again in the process. Luka didn’t let go, instead planting his feet to steady her. It only took a moment for her brain to catch up with what was happening and she stopped struggling. Instead, she babbled a breathless apology in rather confused English, and Luka grinned as he levered her back upright.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said in French, keeping his hands on her waist for a moment longer to make sure she was steady before drawing back. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead as she gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m fine. Thank you. Sorry. Um, again. Thanks. Luka, right? I’ve been meaning to say thanks for everything this week too. I probably would have starved if you weren’t looking out for me, so...” She broke off to suck in a breath and gave an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Luka replied. “For both. Although Penny orders the food, I’m just the delivery boy.” He grinned at her, and she started to smile back before her eyes widened slightly and she whirled.

“Um, we should catch up with the others?” she blurted. They had fallen a bit behind, and Marinette took off in a power walk that caught her up with the group in no time.

Luka trailed behind, a little deflated. He’d barely even said anything that time, but she’d run away again. Maybe...maybe he should just back off. If she wasn’t interested in him then—but for a second there, he’d thought...

He continued to linger at the back of the group, not approaching Marinette or trying to get near her. They came to another enclosure, and Luka leaned his elbows on the concrete wall of the enclosure, trying to find his enthusiasm for the trip. Below him in the pen, dingos yipped and frolicked, tackling each other and then sprinting around the pen. He had to smile, watching them.

To his surprise, Marinette came up and stood next to him. She shot him a quick, hesitant smile, which he returned automatically, and then stood on her toes a little to peer over the barrier into the cage, leaning her hands on the wall next to him. She gave him another quick smile as she settled back on her heels.

“They’re cute,” she murmured, and then blushed and looked away.

“They look like they’re having a good time,” Luka observed, and she made a noise of agreement. An awkward silence fell between them. Luka’s face was turned towards the dogs below them, but he was watching Marinette out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure her out and not dwell on how much he’d like to nip along the pretty line of her jaw to her neck—

His salvation came when he caught her eyeing his arms as he leaned on the rail. He’d cut the sleeves off this t-shirt years ago, and he was reasonably sure that the flush on her face wasn’t just the heat. Luka turned his face away for a moment to hide his smirk, and the little ego boost was just what he needed to untie his tongue.

But before he could come up with something to say, Marinette did.

“That’s the tour shirt from what, eight years ago?” Marinette asked, leaning back slightly to look at the dates down the back.

“Yeah, I’ve had it forever,” Luka shrugged, pleased by the way her eyes followed the motion of his shoulders. “As you can probably tell.”

“At least it’s good ventilation in this heat,” Marinette quipped, reaching out to pluck the ragged edge of one of the tears on the side.

“Definitely an advantage,” Luka agreed, with a wink. “Not as stylish as yours, though. That’s a cute top. I like the ruffles.” That wasn’t too weird, was it? She was a fashion designer after all. Luka didn’t know anything about fashion but she certainly looked good in it.

“I’m not very rock ‘n roll, I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose, glancing down at herself. Cute. “But it’s me, and that’s what matters.” She tossed her head and scrunched up one shoulder, giving a look that dared him to argue.

“You’re perfect,” Luka smiled, and the pink on her cheeks grew a little darker. “You’re from Paris, right? I think Jagged said so?” he added quickly, afraid he’d made her uncomfortable. Marinette nodded, and he grinned at her, leaning back on the barrier again. “Me too. Well, sort of. We moved around a lot when I was younger but we’ve been settled in Paris for a long time.”

“That explains why your French is so good,” Marinette giggled. “I’d wondered.” She settled against the rail next to him and nudged his shoulder slightly with her own. “I bet the American ladies love your accent.”

Oh God, she was flirting with him, and it was adorable. Luka suppressed the urge to squeal like a teenage girl as he looked down at his hands, grinning. “Maybe. Just my luck the only girl I’ve met worth impressing happens to be French.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing so he could pretend not to notice the choking noise she made.

“Honestly,” he began, when he thought she had recovered, “I kind of have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. Like when we met. I’ve been wanting to apologize for that. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you feel bad. Sometimes I’m thoughtless without meaning to be, so. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head slightly. “That’s all right. The stuttering, the word jumbling, it’s something that happens when I’m nervous. I should be used to it by now. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive, just—”

“No, wait. I really wasn’t trying to make fun of you, but I was out of line and you had every right to be mad at me,” Luka said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you. I, um, accept your apology.”

“Thank you,” Luka grinned, letting his hand fall from her shoulder. “So. How long have you known Jagged?”

“I’ve been working for him off and on for almost ten years now,” Marinette told him, as they turned away to follow the group towards the next exhibit.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Luka said, and meant it. “I’ve only been with him for the last couple of years. I’m not sure I could take a decade of that.” He waved at Jagged, who was bouncing along at the front of the group, loud and gesturing broadly, chattering excitedly with their hosts (who might be the only people on the planet as croc-mad as Jagged).

Marinette giggled and warmth filled him, entirely different from the heat of the sun on their backs or the way he’d felt when he saw her in those shorts. “You get it in more concentrated doses than I do,” she pointed out. “You’re stuck with him for months at a time. I mostly get video calls, plus one or two unannounced visits and the occasional demand to fly out and design something for him.”

“Like now?” Luka asked, and Marinette nodded.

“I don’t know what they tried to make him wear but apparently it was not acceptable and he needed somebody who gets him,” she said, tone cheerful though she rolled her eyes. “I don’t really mind this time. It got me out of another project that I really didn’t want to do, and Jagged pays well. It doesn’t hurt my portfolio either.” She winked at him and he was pretty sure it stopped his heart for a moment.

“I bet,” Luka grinned, a beat later than he should have. “Jagged’s not an easy man to please.”

“You should know,” Marinette teased, leaning towards him, and then she seemed to catch herself and turn her attention back to the animals, cheeks reddening.

Luka was still grinning as he looked back as well, not really seeing them. Something caught his eye to his other side, and when he looked, he found his bandmates making kissy faces and gesturing rudely. Luka raised his eyebrows at them in warning, and they fell to snickering. Luka rolled his eyes and turned toward Marinette, set on ignoring them, but she had pulled a small notebook from her bag and was sketching one of the flowers planted along the concrete barrier. Luka sighed, but opted not to disturb her.

They were ushered on, and Luka had an easier time getting into the trip now that he’d at least cleared the air with Marinette. When he ended up next to her again, she shot him a quick smile, too excited at the prospect of holding a koala to pay him much attention. Luka didn’t mind; her enthusiasm was cute, he was really kind of excited to hold a koala himself, and he was the one she turned to at the last second, shoving her phone in his hands and begging him to take her picture. He did, grinning stupidly the whole time at her sparkling eyes and beaming smile, and took one with his own as well, “just in case.” Marinette happily returned the favor, and it wasn’t as hard as it should have been for Luka to ignore his bandmates behind her making crude gestures and pretending to cheer him on. Clearly he’d been too easy on them the last few months. As they moved on Luka made a mental note to plan a particularly creative revenge. He had to find a way to ditch those jackasses before they ruined everything.

He saw his moment when they finally reached the famous crocodile paddocks, and the family took Jagged with them into the pen, since he was “an experienced crocodile handler” (“Have they met Fang?” Luka murmured to Marinette, who giggled). By now rumors of the rock star’s presence had circulated and there was quite a crowd jamming up against the barriers to see him—and Jagged never could resist a crowd. Before long, an impromptu croc show was on, and it became obvious the tour wasn’t going to continue any time soon.

Marinette sighed at his elbow and folded her arms, pouting slightly, and Luka quickly assessed his options. Excusing himself, he worked his way through the crowd of bystanders to Penny, who was somehow managing to look both bored and stressed out at the same time. She barely acknowledged his “Hey, Penny,” when he sidled up next to her.

“I was just wondering,” Luka said, brushing sweat-damp hair off of his forehead. “It looks like Jagged’s gonna be a while and Marinette’s looking pretty—” Don’t say hot! “—uh, warm standing out here in the sun, so…” He faltered for a moment as Penny turned away from Jagged to look directly at him, eyes narrowing. She saw right through him, he was sure. He swallowed his nerves and went on. “I was, um, thinking maybe I could take her to find some shade and maybe buy her something to drink and some ice cream, and we can meet back up with you guys in a bit?”

Penny stared at him for a moment, and Luka looked back as impassively as he could. She looked toward Marinette over his shoulder, and Luka couldn’t help glancing back. Marinette’s cheeks were still bright pink and she was fanning herself with her map again.

“Couffaine,” Penny said in a warning voice, and Luka turned back to her with a sigh.

“Penny come on,” he said in a low voice. “Even rock stars don’t meet a girl like that every day.”

Penny’s lips pressed together, and her eyes flicked to Marinette again before fixing back on Luka. “You know she’s flying out tomorrow,” Penny said, her voice unexpectedly gentle.

Luka rocked back on his heels slightly, and took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Tomorrow. That meant his only shot for a date was tonight. If he didn’t at least get her number by the end of the day, she’d walk out of his life and who knew when he’d see her again, and that just wasn’t acceptable.

He focused back on Penny and flashed a smile. “Then I better not waste any time, huh?”

Penny sighed, and then reached around him and snatched the zoo map out of his back pocket. She clicked her pen, then circled a place on the map and slapped it against his chest. “You have two hours. Meet us there and don’t be late.”

Luka took the map and tucked it back into his pocket. “Thanks, Penny.”

She sighed. “Good luck,” she muttered, turning back to Jagged.

He went back to Marinette, blowing out another deep breath and trying to look relaxed as he approached her. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Time to bring your A-game, Couffaine.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asked, when she looked up at his approach. “Penny told me where to meet them later, and as entertaining as it might be to watch Jagged get eaten by a crocodile, I’m pretty sure he’s too lucky for it to actually happen. What do you say we go get something to eat and see the rest of the zoo?”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile and he walked off at her side, flipping off his bandmates behind her back as they passed.

Marinette relaxed almost immediately, away from the crowd, and Luka winced internally, afraid she might have noticed some of the teasing. “Sorry if the guys have been giving you a hard time,” he said, as casually as he could. “They’re a bunch of clowns but they’re mostly harmless.”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Marinette shrugged, smiling up at him. “They seem nice enough, just...loud. It’s always loud around Jagged. It gets to be a bit much sometimes. I don’t know how you stand it. You don’t seem very loud yourself, except when you’re on stage.”

“I’m not,” Luka admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Never have been, except on stage. I’m used to the chaos, though. Ice cream?”

Marinette brightened. “Sure!”

The ice cream might have been a mistake, Luka reflected a short time later. Marinette’s mouth was gorgeous. Celebrities paid good money for lips like that, and watching them glide along her spoon was only half as torturous as watching her lick at the ice cream directly, trying to sweep up the melting drops running down the side.

Luka quickly took a bigger bite of his own than was wise, and gritted his teeth against the resulting brain freeze. Marinette laughed at the face he made, and that brought him back to a place where he could at least speak normally to her. For a while, they stayed on neutral topics, chatting about their families and careers in between cooing over the animals. Marinette was sharp, and entertainingly witty when she didn’t think too hard and trip over her tongue.

Luka was catching her rhythm, now. She skittered away from him when she got overwhelmed or felt she’d been too daring, but as long as he waited, she’d sidle back, settle back into shy flirting that would gradually grow bolder, until something tipped her over the edge and she ran away again. Luka adjusted to suit, letting her have her space when she needed it, easing off his teasing when she returned until she found her footing again. He was enjoying it, actually, now that he knew she wasn’t actually scared or put off by him; he got a charge out of it when he flustered her and she fled, and an equally powerful feeling when she came back to him.

The rest of the afternoon was a series of exquisite moments. Standing a little too close, leaning into each other’s space more than was necessary to read a sign or peer into an exhibit. Shy looks that grew slowly bolder and smiles that turned into soft giggles. A burst of triumph when he took her hand and she slid her fingers between his. The flutter of excitement he felt when she leaned against his arm to point something out, and then rested her cheek on his shoulder instead of pulling away. A look up at him, and a dip of his head that might have become a kiss if not for a rush of small, screaming children bumping into their knees.

They made it to the giraffe pavilion Penny had circled on the map a little ahead of the others, and Luka knew he’d better say what he needed to say quickly. The employee at the doors let them in and led them to the giraffe feeding area, giving them each a handful of lettuce, and went back outside to wait for the rest of the group. Another bored-looking employee was leaning against the back wall, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

Marinette was back to the bubbly sort of excited she’d been when they held the koalas, and Luka was loving every moment of it, but he knew the clock was ticking. He took a breath and stepped close, reaching over her to offer some lettuce to the giraffe. The giraffe sniffed it, and then dipped its head to take the lettuce from Marinette instead.

Marinette giggled, looking up to scrunch her nose at him. “I think he likes me.”

“No doubt,” Luka said, offering her his handful of lettuce, and not noticing when a leaf dribbled out of the side of the giraffe’s mouth above him and landed in his hair. “I know I do.”

Marinette blushed, and gave him another look over her shoulder, reaching up to the giraffe with another section of lettuce.

“Luka Couffaine, are you hitting on me?” she asked, the quirk of her smile suggesting the idea wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’ve been trying my best,” Luka chuckled, and then grew serious, reaching for her hand to turn her to face him. “You’re really special, Marinette. I know you have pretty much no reason to take me seriously, but believe me, I don’t get this way about just anyone.” Here goes nothing. “I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since you crashed into me on the bus, and it’s getting worse by the minute. I’ve had a great time with you today, and I’m really hoping it doesn’t have to stop.”

For a moment she seemed to glow, and Luka’s breath caught, but then she paused and her face fell. “I’m flying out tomorrow,” she said, dropping her eyes as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well,” Luka said, leaning in a little. “That still leaves tonight.” Marinette’s eyes blew wide and Luka’s did too as his own words hit his ears. “Dinner! I meant dinner, I didn’t—I mean unless you want to but I—okay forget that I swear I just meant I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“I’d love for you to take me,” she said quickly, and then her eyes widened. “To dinner! Oh my—dinner. Just dinner. For now. I mean, uh—”

Luka couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and so did Marinette, hiding her face in his chest, both of them laughing so hard they couldn’t quite stand up straight and collapsed against each other, swaying slightly. After a moment she peeked up at him, still giggling, and said decisively, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Grinning down at her in his arms, Luka’s gaze fell to her lips, remembering that almost kiss, and by the way she pulled that lower lip between her teeth, Marinette did too.

He started to lean toward her but a sudden, hard tug on his hair jerked him backwards, and then he registered something wet and slimy running down the back of his head and along his neck.

Luka screamed at a pitch he normally only hit during concerts, and lurched forward, knocking into Marinette as he flailed over his head. He made contact with something but it just moved away and there was another tug on his hair. He scrambled blindly, trying to get away from whatever it was, not realizing he was practically climbing his small companion.

“Luka, calm down! It’s just the giraffe!” Marinette said, hooking her hands under his thighs and hiking him up to a more stable position. “I’ve got you, you big baby,” she laughed, and he looked down, fully registering the fact that his legs were wrapped around Marinette’s waist and she was holding him up—awkwardly, since he was so much bigger than her, but securely.

If he hadn’t been so embarrassed, he might have been turned on, but as he stared down into Marinette’s amused blue eyes twinkling back up at him, he really would have been just as happy if a hole opened up in the ground for her to drop him into.

Things were going so well, too. Luka twisted around to see behind him, and sure enough there was a giraffe, staring back at him as it chewed placidly. Luka put a hand up to his hair automatically and whined when it came away slimy with giraffe spit. At least it seemed like it was all there. Whatever the giraffe was chewing on, at least it hadn’t taken a chunk of his hair.

That would just be the icing on the cake. He started to put his hand back on Marinette’s shoulder and then realized his hand was slimy now too.

Fuck, he really had no idea how to recover from this.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Luka closed his eyes and dropped his forehead on the top of Marinette’s head. “Hi, Penny.”

“Marinette are you all right?” Penny demanded, and Luka could hear the unmistakable sound of Jagged’s raucous laughter soaring over the hysteria of his other bandmates.

“I’m fine,” Marinette giggled, and looked up at Luka. “Can I put you down now, or do I need to carry you away from the big, scary giraffe first?”

“Just let it eat me,” Luka muttered, and Marinette laughed, dropping Luka’s feet to the ground.

“Not a chance,” Marinette sniffed. “Who’s going to buy me dinner tonight if I let you get eaten by the least scary animal in this zoo?”

“What’s this about dinner?” Jagged asked, perking up, and Luka groaned, slapping his palm over his face. He made a disgusted noise as he realized it was still covered in giraffe spit. He rubbed it off on his shorts and used the tail of his shirt to wipe off his face, sighing.

“You really still want to have dinner after that?” he grumbled mournfully, fully expecting Marinette to back out. When she didn’t answer he peeked out from behind his shirt.

Marinette was staring at his exposed abs. Luka grinned, and dropped his shirt. Marinette’s eyes snapped back up to his face. “I’m gonna find a restroom and clean up,” he told her, chucking her under the chin (with his clean hand) to close her open mouth. “Think about what you want to eat tonight.” He winked and she made a strangled noise.

***

Luka’s foot tapped restlessly as the plane rolled up to the jetbridge (not the gangway, as Jagged had repeatedly corrected him during the first few months on tour). They were a little late, and Luka was tired and hungry and very eager to see his no-longer-so-long-distance girlfriend.

It was torture waiting for the crowd to deplane, and Luka breathed a sigh of relief as he finally made it to the airport corridor and started making his way eagerly toward the baggage claim. He was very much looking forward to being in the same city as Marinette for at least a few months. Their relationship had grown amazingly well, considering they were limited to texting and video calls, except for one week in New York, when Jagged had flown Marinette out for another fashion emergency, and one blissful, heavenly week in London last month when Marinette had taken the train out just to see him, and they had spent the whole week avoiding the overenthusiastic rock star, Luka’s stupid bandmates, and the terrible weather in the very private hotel room Luka had spared no expense for. Even the thought of it made him bite his lip and walk faster.

He was even more motivated because Juleka was supposed to be meeting him here too, and he wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to leave his sister and his girlfriend alone together for too long in what was bound to be a slightly awkward first meeting.

When he first spotted the girls, he only had eyes for Marinette, and only after he had swept her up in his arms and nearly crushed her, did he have enough attention to notice the giant giraffe balloon his sister was holding. The damn thing was nearly as big as Juleka, and the shit-eating grin his normally reserved sister was wearing was enough to assure him that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Luka groaned and let Marinette slide to the floor. “I can’t believe you told her.”

Marinette giggled and shrugged. “We had to kill the awkward somehow,” she shrugged. “She just got this manic grin and ran off to the nearest gift shop.”

“And it was so worth it for the look on your face,” Juleka snickered.

Luka snorted. Really it was a miracle it had taken this long; he’d had to threaten to quit to keep Jagged from plastering the band’s social media with pictures of Luka hanging off Marinette, a terrified look on his face and his hair sticking straight up and coated in giraffe drool.

Still. “Just for that,” he muttered, and grabbed Marinette’s hand to pull her close, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he kissed her. He meant it to be a simple kiss, just sloppy enough to embarrass his sister, but Marinette put her arms around his neck and pressed up into him, and he forgot Juleka was even there for at least a full minute.

Even the sound of his sister gagging couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when Marinette’s lips finally slipped away from his. “I am so glad to be back,” he growled, and felt Marinette shiver in his arms. “I’m taking you out tomorrow, jet lag or no. You just say when and where.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go to the zoo,” Marinette said innocently, and Juleka cackled as Luka sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“I like her,” Juleka said, shoving Luka’s arm. “Don’t mess it up. Although,” she began to snicker, “if you could recover from a beginning like that, maybe I shouldn’t worry.”

Luka opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove her opinion, but Marinette grabbed his collar and jerked him down into another kiss. “Be nice,” she murmured, and then shoved him back, giggling along with Juleka at the blissful look on his face.

So just because I constantly live in fear of people calling me on my BS, I’m gonna warn you now I’ve never been to Australia Zoo and while I did some research and studied the map well...try not to laugh at me too hard if you’ve been. It’s just background so I didn’t try that hard to differentiate it from other zoos. But Knit loves giraffes so I needed a zoo and Australia Zoo seemed like the easiest one to get Jagged to, so here we are. Happy Birthday, Knit!

Fiction Master Post | AO3

#quickspins #the zoo fic #i'll never not know you #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #meet-cute #i am lukanette trash i admit it #happy birthday knit!#giraffe merchandise haunts luka for the rest of his life #giraffe stuffies pop up everywhere #the nursery is totally decorated in giraffes #he can't get away from it #he just accepts it

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lovelucybradford · 3 years

Text

I Pretend You’re Mine (5)

A/N: Back with the promised continuation chapter!

Not sure if you’re interested, but when I was writing, in my head I pictured:

Betty White as Grandma Rose

Richard Madden as Levi

Peter Gallagher as Jason Martin

Scott Eastwood as Drew

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Five: You Were Romeo (I Was a Scarlet Letter)

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

“Champagne, miss?” The formally dressed waiter offered a flute of sparkling wine, a raspberry garnish floating in the glass. Rosalie took it from his hands with no hesitation, sending the attendant a silent smile of thanks. She put the glass to her lips, then paused and looked up at Derek.

“Will people judge me if I chug this whole thing right now?” she voiced, loving the amused smile that lit up her partner’s face at the innocent question.

“I thought we didn’t care anymore what people thought of us,” Derek reminded her, though she knew that when he was referring to ‘we’, he really meant her. Derek never was one to care what people thought of him.

Rosalie weighed her options, then decided that her family judged her anyways so why not have a good time?

In order to get through this hellish night, she’d have to be tipsy. Best start now.

Without a word of affirmation, she forewent her instilled manners and chugged the glass down in one long sip. Rosalie wasn’t normally a fan of champagne, unless it was Dom Perignon, which she realized made her sound like a total snob. It was the one thing that she’d inherited from her father, her expensive taste in food and drink. It seemed by the familiar, rich, and delicious taste of the bubbly that the cruise ship staff had only provided the very best for their VIP guests.

Rosalie searched for a place to set her glass, finding a nearby unoccupied table and gently depositing it there. She, quite literally, couldn’t afford to even chip one of the crystal goblets. She stumbled back to Derek, who was waiting for her with an open arm.

“You ready for this?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. It caused unvoluntary goosebumps to crawl up her arms, which she prayed he didn’t notice.

Was she ready?

A part of her never would be. She’d purposely left this part of her life behind, knowing all too well how toxic it was for her mental health. But Rosalie knew if she backed out now, then the family would know that they finally got to her. They would think that she was still strung up and heartbroken about Drew, or jealous of her stepsister for getting the diamond that was meant for Rosalie.

And sure, she had been… once upon a time.

Moving back to Beacon Hills, reconnecting with normal people, people she loved more than her own blood relatives… it had put everything into perspective for her again.

Rosalie could once again be herself, be that strong woman that Talia Hale had raised to be when Rosalie’s own mother had fallen short. The strong, kind, generous, goofy, compassionate, empathetic woman with a mind of her own and a head on her shoulders. Not the ice queen, the submissive and serious woman that her father had tried to warp her into.

And for that, Rose was forever thankful.

She was different now, but exactly the same. And this version of her, with her closest confidantes by her side, wouldn’t cower in a corner.

Rosalie held her head high, meeting Derek’s gaze with a confident look in her blue eyes.

“Yes,” she declared, feeling her confidence rise.

“Good.”

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.”

Derek snorted and shook his head at the nickname, but complied and escorted Rosalie further into the room. She searched for a friendly face among the crowd. Normally, she’d be able to find Lydia by her head of bright red hair, but nearly half of the people in the room had some shade of red hair.

Thankfully, Rosalie didn’t have to look all that hard, as Charlotte came bounding up to her aunt, screaming, “Auntie Rosie! Uncle Derek!”

And suddenly, as the child wrapped her arms around one of Derek’s legs and one of Rosalie’s, all of the attention in the room shifted to the couple.

“Is that Rosalie?” her cousin Noah commented to the man next to him.

“Who the hell is that with her? Because dayum, I’d like to tap that ass,” Noah’s twin, Nick, said back.

“That has to be her friend,” Uncle Alex said to his wife, his lips around a glass of Scotch.

“Not with the way he’s holding her. Besides, did you hear her niece call him Uncle? How she managed that is beyond me,” Aunt Sarah replied, looking Rose’s companion up and down with hungry eyes.

Rosalie ignored all the talk, even though it seemed as if the crowd wasn’t even attempting to be discreet in their conversations.

She reached down to pat Charlotte’s blonde head. “Hey, honey! I missed you!”

Derek ruffled Charlotte’s curls playfully, to which the little girl pretended to be angry with him. But Rosalie could see the smile that she was hiding as Charlotte clutched the adults’ legs even harder.

“All right, all right, Charlie. Let’s let Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Derek breathe, yeah?” Rosalie’s brother, Levi, broke through the crowd, detaching his daughter from the couple and telling her to go on and play with her cousins.

As soon as the little girl was out of sight, Levi enveloping his sister in a hug. Derek held out his hand for a friendly shake, but Levi pulled him into an embrace as well, the two men patting each other fondly on the back.

“I’m digging the beard,” Derek approved, gesturing to Levi’s newly grown beard while rubbing his own.

“What can I say? I was inspired by yours. Although I have to say, mine looks a little better. Y’know, because it’s still all one color,” Levi joked, comparing his solid red scruff to Derek’s salt-and-pepper look.

Rosalie elbowed Derek in the side teasingly. “Yeah, you old man!”

Derek raised one brow and stepped away from Rosalie, crossing his arms. “Oh sure, call me old man one more time.”

Rosalie beamed up at him, wagging her own brows. “What would you rather me call you? Sugar daddy?”

With one fell swoop, Derek was pressed against her, fingers tickling the small expanse of visible skin on her waist. Rose squealed with laughter, trying in vain to pull away from him and begging for mercy.

Levi cleared his throat loudly, causing the couple to separate. Rosalie’s cheeks burned red at the embarrassing scene that she had been a part of. Surely her brother would tease her about it.

Instead, Levi looked a bit pissed.

“So, I guess my daughter didn’t dream up your engagement, then. This,” Levi gestured to Rosalie and Derek, “is really happening?”

Derek shifted his weight on both feet. Rosalie bit her lip and looked to the floor guiltily. She loved her brother. She really did. But she knew that Levi had loose lips, and he’d surely have one too many and (unintentionally) let slip the whole ruse. That, and Rose couldn’t take the disappointment from him.

“It’s about fucking time,” Levi added, sounding a lot more jovial. Rosalie’s and Derek’s heads shot up instantly, shocked at his comment.

Levi slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Bro, I am so glad you didn’t listen to me.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rosalie interrogated Derek.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards the large window next to them. Before he could explain, Jess, Levi’s wife, snaked her arms around her husband’s waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Lee was telling me all about how he’d threatened Derek with his guns if he even put his hands on you.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. Derek stayed unusually silent. “You gave Der the boyfriend talk?! When was this, big brother?”

Levi raised both hands in surrender. “In my defense, Derek was a horny college kid back then, and I was only trying to protect my little sister. You know the, um, milestones that come with prom night.”

The tapping of a mic interrupted their conversation, which Rosalie was thankful for since she was at a loss for words.

She’d remembered that night in question, fondly. It was the night that she’d realized that she’d had feelings for Derek. Rosalie’s then-boyfriend, Ryan, had dumped her a week before prom for another, more sexy, more experienced, girl. Rosalie was heartbroken, and had sworn off prom, until Derek had shown up on her doorstep in a suit with a pink corsage and a sparkling silver tiara.

She’d laughed, of course, at the reference to the childhood nickname. Then, she’d excitedly rushed upstairs to ready herself, leaving Derek at the mercy of one Levi Martin. Levi Martin, who had, apparently, threatened to cut off Derek’s balls and feed them to the family dog if he had even touched his baby sister in an inappropriate way.

(Levi was always… poetic when it came to his threats.)

Rosalie had hoped, prayed, that as Derek had driven her home in his black Camaro, that he would kiss her, to put a fairytale ending on a perfect night. Sure, he’d kissed her when he dropped her off at her front door… on the cheek, like a brother, or a best friend, might.

Rosalie had dreamt about that night for years afterwards, of what it would be like if he had actually kissed her.

_______________

“I’m sorry, Grandma Rose. I have to go rescue my fiancé from your dear grandson.”

Rosalie stood from the table, feeling a rush in her head for a few seconds. She was definitely tipsier than she thought.

Once Rose got her bearings, she strutted, barefoot, to Derek, who looked highly uncomfortable. With every inch that Nick advanced on Derek, the man backed a considerable distance away.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass?” Rosalie heard Nick flirt from paces away. The way that Nick was looking at Derek, the way that he was blatantly hitting on the man when Nick knew that Derek was taken, it unsettled something in Rosalie. Her vision turned red as she approached the two from behind, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist.

“Hi Nick. Sorry, this amazing ass is mine.” Rosalie didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t really think through what she was doing. All she knew was that she was grabbing Derek’s right butt cheek with her hand, smiling smugly as Nick’s eyes widened.

Derek waited until Rose’s cousin scurried away before stiffly asking, “Rosalie, why are you grabbing my ass?”

Rosalie let go of Derek immediately, feeling as if she’d spontaneously combust in mortification. “I am, so, so sorry. I just kind of… he was ogling you and it made me mad. Like you’re gorgeous but you’re more than just a pretty face and an incredible ass.” Rosalie’s eyes widened at her word vomit, and now she definitely wanted to throw herself from the nearest balcony and test her drunken theory that she was secretly a mermaid.

“I… I need a drink.”

Derek turned to face her, a hint of a forming chuckle on his lips. “I think you’ve had enough of those, babe.”

Rosalie wished that she could slink away. She wished that someone would hit her in the head, and she’d wake up with amnesia. Maybe she could change her name and move to Antarctica? Yeah, that would be good.

Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his best friend by the elbow and latching her hand back onto his arm. “I’m not mad at you, Rosalie. Feel free to grab my ass anytime if it makes you feel better.”

Rosalie tried to scowl, but the frown was turning upward with every second. “I hate you so much.”

Derek escorted the two back to Rosalie’s table, where Grandma Rose looked completely unimpressed with the whole shindig. Before they sat, he pulled Rose close and whispered, “I’ll let you grab my ass as long as I can grab yours.”

At that, he pulled out Rosalie’s chair and plopped her down, taking the one next to her. Rose was speechless. Did that actually come out of his mouth? Wait, did he actually want to grab her behind? Yep. Those were his words. Exactly.

Rose’s cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. Derek laughed at her slowly coloring face, to which she smacked him on the thigh under the table. Before she could remove her hand, Derek grabbed it and held it between the two of them.

“I always knew the two of you would end up together.” Grandma Rose said wistfully, looking at the couple with soft eyes.

You and everyone else, apparently. Everyone but Derek, Rosalie thought sadly, and tried to shove the painful pang in her heart.

“You know how I knew, Rosalie?” Grandma Rose shakily reached for her flute of champagne, taking a long sip. “I knew it when this one, this big, strong, handsome man,” the old woman reached for Derek’s free hand and patted it kindly, “punched my idiot son in the face at that party, after you got your master’s degree.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. Jason and Derek had never gotten along. Jason thought Derek was ‘some jock who was too concerned with an unlikely career in basketball instead of his studies’. Derek thought Jason was a ‘pompous, cheating, scumbag, son of a bitch’. (Both quotes were their words exactly)

All of the building tension exploded when Jason had chosen to make a below-the-belt comparison between Rose and Ashleigh’s accomplishments. As if they weren’t celebrating Rosalie graduating from Columbia University, an ivy league, with a master’s degree, with the highest honors.

Derek had broken Jason’s nose. Jason had gotten a restraining order (his favorite defense tactic; it expired last year).

“I’m so sorry,” Derek told Rosalie’s grandmother, though he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful.

“Oh, sweetheart. It wasn’t like every sane person at that party wasn’t thinking the same thing. You were the only one brave enough to do it. Rose’s knight in shining armor.”

Derek’s face flushed red, a rare sight for a man with so much confidence.

“Rosalie, dear. I do have to warn you, Drew and Ashleigh are here.”

Rosalie sighed. She knew that they would be here. The pair had done a very good job at avoiding them; Rose wondered when they’d finally make it around her and Derek’s way. If Rose were lucky, maybe they’d just avoid her the whole trip. Only in her dreams…

“I know, Grandma. I—have you seen them yet?”

“Yes, I had the misfortune of running into both of them while yelling at your father for dragging his ninety-two-year-old mother on an extravagant trip. Do you know how long the plane flight was? Anyways, Drew called me ‘grandma’. You know what I told him, loves?”

Derek and Rosalie looked to each other, both knowing that it was probably something rude. Grandma Rose was Rosalie’s favorite relative, outside of her brother and Lydia. She was the most real of all of them. She spoke her mind and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know how she felt.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Derek choked on his glass of white wine. Rosalie smacked him on the back a few times, unable to hold in her shaking laughter.

“Yes, I told dear old Drew to go fuck himself. The only man that’s allowed to call me that is Derek. He doesn’t have his head up his ass. He sees how beautiful, wonderful, and deserving of love my real granddaughter is.”

All jokes aside, Grandma Rose’s words warmed Rosalie’s heart. At least one of the extended family members didn’t think she was a disgrace.

“Well, kids. Would you look at that? The pompous son of a bitch wants to go blab about himself. Someone should go tell him to shut up.”

Rosalie looked to the small stage at the front of the lounge. Sure enough, there was her father, Jason, dressed to the nines in a likely customized Hugo Boss suit, a pink Hibiscus sticking out of his breast pocket. Jason looked around at the crowd, clearing his throat to get the attention of his guests.

“Welcome, everyone! I’m so glad that you’re here and could join me on this fantastic excursion…”

Jason continued his schpeal and Rosalie tuned him out. He was likely talking about how great he was for paying for everyone’s accommodations, or how lucky they were to be spending time with him on this 1K-a-night cruise. Rosalie had heard it all before, multiple times, and she was sick of it, frankly.

What was it about rich people’s money that made them think that they were gods and should be treated as such?

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand hard, his nails digging into the back of her hand.

She looked to him in explanation, but he only nodded his head towards the stage.

Where Drew was shepherding Ashleigh up the steps, his hand resting on her backside.

“Yes, as I said, we have two exciting announcements that Evelyn and I could not wait to share with you tonight.”

Jason looked fondly towards Ashleigh and Drew, who were now hobbling towards him. There were resounding gasps and excited squeals, but Rosalie could only focus on Drew.

Drew was still as handsome as the day that she had first met him. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence and charm. He’d grown a beard since Rosalie had seen him last, wafts of brown hair covering his strong jaw. He stood behind Ashleigh, his hands moving to rest on her stomach, and that’s when time stood still.

Because, under Drew’s lithe fingers, was a protruding bump. Rosalie, despite herself, couldn’t help the gasp that formed around her lips, nor the shaking of her hands.

Drew, when he was with her, had told Rosalie that he didn’t want kids. He’d had daddy issues too and didn’t want his offspring to grow up with a messed-up dad. Even though Rosalie desperately wanted a family, she was so in love with Drew that she’d put those dreams aside, for him.

Now, Drew stood proudly cradling his pregnant fiancée’s stomach as he spoke sweet nothings into her ear, looking thrilled to become a dad.

Derek squeezed Rosalie’s hand tightly, then removed it to wrap around her shoulders instead, nestling her into him. Derek’s lips brushed the top of Rose’s head, then her forehead.

“Fuck, Rosie. I’m so sorry. I… he didn’t deserve you. You’re better off without him. Do you want to go?” Derek whispered huskily in Rosalie’s ear, breaths coming out shallowly.

Rosalie didn’t need to feel the tenseness of his arm around her to know that he was pissed. She could tell just by the tone of his voice that he wanted to kill Drew.

Rosalie turned her head so that now her lips would be close to his ear. “I… I should have known. I—No, we need to stay. If I leave now, then Ashleigh and Evelyn will know that they’ve won, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rosalie rested her head on Derek’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

Someone kicked her leg under the table. Rosalie raised her head to look at Derek questioningly. His expression matched her own.

“Rosalie? Dear, are you here?” Jason called from the stage, his snake-like grey eyes checking the crowd for his daughter.

“She’s here, you pompous prick!” Grandma Rose yelled to her son, shoving Rosalie gently with a hand to her back. From a distance, Rosalie heard Stiles guffaw. She imagined that Lydia smacked him in the head while trying to control her own laughter.

Jason scowled, but ignored his mother, watching with a forced smile as his daughter and her ‘fiancé’ ascended the stairs. Derek had a tight hold around Rosalie, who had forgone her shoes in the shock of the moment. She leaned on him, both physically and metaphorically, for strength.

“Some more good news for my daughters. Somehow, someone managed to put a ring on my dear little Rosalie. Yes, it shocked us, too. Good on you, Derek!” Jason looked to Rosalie’s bare feet. “And it seems he doesn’t mind her habit for walking around barefoot. Welcome to the family, Derek Hale!”

Most of the crowd laughed, Evelyn and Ashleigh’s shrill merriment sticking out the most. Derek held Rosalie tighter. She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to stay strong.

From Jason’s other side, Drew asked, “Wait. Isn’t that the guy who broke your nose?”

Derek rested his forehead on the side of Rose’s head, huffing into her ear “Yes. That was me. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll break your nose, too, you douche”.

That made her chuckle, and with his arms securely around her, Rose knew that she’d be alright as long as Derek was by her side.

#teen wolf #derek hale #derek hale fic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale x oc #tyler hoechlin #derek hale au #derek hale fluff

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1250

Do you own any Funko Pop! figurines? No. I had a brief period where I wanted to start collecting them SO BAD and often went to toy stores to gawk at the figures I felt like I needed to have; but I grew out of that and I don’t even really give Funkos a second glance whenever I see them anymore haha.

How many cats and dogs have you had as pets in your lifetime? We’ve had one cat and two dogs.

Can your mom and/or dad play any instruments, or how about anyone else in your family? My dad can play the guitar; he just absolutely never shows it off, not even if you lay out ten guitars in front of him. I think my mom played the piano as a kid.

Have you ever colored in an adult coloring book as a stress reliever? Yeah, it was my coping mechanism from a few years ago. I don’t do it nearly as often anymore, but I still have my coloring books and pencils stored in my room just in case I randomly want to get back to the hobby.

Can you crack crab legs without a tool? No, I ask my parents or grandparents to do it haha.

How many light sources are in the room you’re in? There are two, but I only use one. I never switch on my main bedroom light as I hate how brightly white it is.

What’s your favorite thing to put on bagels? I never get bagels so I don’t really have a clue what I prefer on them.

Who’s your favorite director? Stanley Kubrick.

Bats: cute or gross? Neither side of the spectrum; I just don’t think about bats.

What was the last really intense pain you felt? I got a particularly vicious scratch from Cooper around a month ago that left a deep cut on my thigh. The scar is still visible and I think it’s going to remain that way for a while haha I don’t see it fading out anytime soon.

Would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? Both sound extremely pleasant but I’ll take the lake trip because I’ve never seen one, or stayed near one.

How would you feel about traveling abroad alone? I honestly feel like it’s going to be that way for me moving forward. I’m okay with it, though. I feel like it would be very calming and empowering to be able to explore the world on my own.

What is your father's middle name? He doesn’t have a second name.

Where did your last kiss take place? Outside my house, by her car.

Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? I haven’t encountered anyone yet that truly terrified me.

If you married your favorite celebrity what would your last name be? Kim, hahaha.

Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? I wouldn’t say so. I pull up the peace sign most often.

Which one of your family members are you closest to? My sister and my eldest cousin on my mom’s side.

Would you rather have name brand shoes or name brand clothes? Shoes. They stand out more.

Are you a good liar? Yes. Doesn’t mean I enjoy lying and take advantage of that skill as much as possible.

Are you proud of your parents? Sure.

If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? Paramore. I think Hozier would be neat as fuck too.

Which is better: orange or grape soda? I don’t like soda, so neither.

Was the last thing you ate hot or cold? They are meant to be consumed while hot.

Who was the last person in your house who isn’t family? Angela and Hans.

What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Pink.

Can you remember the last song you listened to? I just tuned into a random lo-fi playlist, so I’m not familiar with the tracks and the artists who made them.

Have you ever been dumped really harshly? Yes.

Can you do a back flip, or anything else of that sort? Nope.

Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? To a considerable extent.

What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? She is extremely selfish and the biggest coward I’ve ever met.

Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Laptop.

Do you have a job, and if so, where do you work? Yeah, I work at a PR firm.

If not, do you want one?

Do any medical afflictions run in your family? I know hypertension is kind of a thing on my mom’s side, but I don’t know if there are any other conditions I should know about.

What’s your favorite Mexican dish? Burritos and enchiladas.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? No, just collegiate-league ones.

Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? I use pads. I’ve never used a tampon or any other product, so there’s no basis for me to make a comparison and establish preferences.

Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? Yeppp, I got a customized cake for my birthday.

What months were you and your siblings born in? My brother and I were born in April; my sister was born in September.

What did you have for dinner last night? Barbecue chicken.

Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? In, yes. Do people have sex ON cars??????

Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? I will shave extremely occasionally. Otherwise no, I don’t touch them.

Has your town ever flooded? This time of the year, always.

Have you ever played at the McDonald’s play place? Yup. I preferred Burger King’s playplace, though; it was lesser-known so there were fewer kids I was forced to play with.

Have you ever taken a picture of snow? I’ve never even seen it.

Do you cry easily? I can.

Are you happy with where you live? It’s quiet and safe, which is nice; but I think at this point I would be a lot happier and would be able to grow a lot if I moved to a big city.

Do people ever mistake you for being a different race? Not really; but as a general thought, it is an extremly big pet peeve when people only take into account East Asians when the topic of Asia comes up.

Do you hate the last person you kissed? I don’t hate her. But I can’t stand her.

What genre is your favorite movie? Drama, romance, a hint of comedy.

Who was the last person you were in a car with? My mom and my siblings.

Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? Yeah haha. I was allowed to smile on my license, so at least my photo doesn’t look gloomy.

When was the last time somebody hit on you? Hasn’t happened in a while.

Was the last person you met a male or female? For the first time? She’s a girl.

What brand is your underwear? I don’t remember the name anymore.

What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? I don’t celebrate that.

Do you have a TV in your room? Nah. I don’t really watch the TV anymore, and using the living room TV to watch YouTube videos is enough for me.

Are any of your electronics charging right now? My laptop is constantly plugged in. My speaker is also charging at the moment.

What was the last video game you played? I have no clue, it’s been forever.

What’s the biggest promise someone’s ever made to you? Did they keep it? That they’ll always stay. I didn’t make her keep it; I was the one who moved on.

Google, Bing, or Yahoo? Google.

What was the last song you had on repeat? It’s been a while since I set a song on repeat. Maybe Film Out? If not that, maybe UGH!

Who is your favorite person to watch on YouTube? Rhett and Link or the Try Guys.

How many college degrees do you want? I’m okay with the one I have.

Can you wink? Yeah, but I’m substantially better at winking with my right eye than my left.

Do you own any jerseys? I don’t think so.

Have you ever tried to snort Pixie Stix as a child, or even an adult? No. I don’t even think I’ve had it ever.

Do you like going to baby showers? Do you go only for the cake? I’ve never been to a baby shower. Not a thing here.

Has there ever been a time in your life, you felt sexually undecided? I still am. I’m not bothered about it, though. Sex and who I have it with aren’t things I spend much time thinking about.

Do you think tattoos and piercings are sexy on the opposite sex? Depends. It certainly suits some people better.

Do people ever ask you to do things they’re too short to accomplish? No...I am the short person asking for help :)))))))

What color are the headphones you have at this moment in time? I have black ones but I literally just took them off five minutes ago so I can transfer my music to the speaker I mentioned earlier.

Ever choked severely on something during lunch at your school? I don’t think so.

Do you eat more vegetables or fruits? What’s your favorite fruit/veggie? VEGETABLES. I love green beans, eggplants, and bell peppers the most. I can’t stand fruits, with the one exception of avocados.

What would you say is the color of your favorite bra? Black.

Is anyone in your family a firefighter? Who is it anyway? I don’t think so.

What do you usually buy when you go to the dollar store? We don’t have a dollar store, and that should be self-explanatory hah.

Ever peed in the pool? Be honest! God no. That’s gross.

When you’re older, what kind of house do you want to live in? Something modern and minimalist.

Where do you want to get married? Idk, I’m pretty traditional when it comes to this. Booking an events place would be ideal for me; the only thing on my wishlist would probably be the fact that I hope my wedding could be held somewhere cold, like Baguio.

Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Uh yeah, sure.

What is your favorite childhood TV show? Spongebob.

Honestly, do you like school? I liked it when I was granted more freedom to do things my own way, which is to say I really enjoyed college. But I didn’t mind school for the most part, especially since it meant being able to see my friends everyday.

Last thing that made you cry? I was listening to a song that resonated a lot with me at that moment.

Honestly, are you keeping a big secret right now? Nothing too big or life-changing to someone if they ever found out.

Last person you took a walk with? Idk, that’s not an activity I tend to do with other people.

Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back? No.

Who was the last person to actually pick you up in the air? My ex, probably.

Does any part of your body hurt? My shoulders are constantly hurting these days. I really need to buy a new work chair :(

If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a regret what would you do? Million bucks. Easiest choice.

Can you keep a secret? Sure.

Your favorite romantic movie? The Proposal.

How do you feel about Valentine’s Day? I honestly like it, and I celebrated it when I was able to.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? My sister and I took a silly selfie earlier.

Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them? Some of the pairs I have do, but they’re meant to be ripped jeans.

Do you celebrate 420? Nope.

Have you ever kicked a vending machine? I don’t think so. I barely use them.

How do you eat Oreos? I just bite into them. No patience do the whole twist-lick thing. Sometimes I’ll dip them in milk, if we happen to have some.

Do you wear your shoes in the house? That is a big no-no.

Would you survive in prison? I might not.

Ever been to Georgia? No for both state and country.

Do you get your hair cut every month? No, just once a year. Which reminds me, I finalllllllly had my hair trimmed yesterday hahaha I got sick of my long-ass hair, which was starting to feel like a bitch to maintain. It’s only up to my shoulders now.

Current relationship in detail. I am single...nothing much to share about it. I get to enjoy to spend my money on myself, which is my favorite part about it hahaha.

If you were kicked out of your house, who would you call/go to? My grandma.

List things you spend money on in an average week. Food delivery and nearly every week, merch. I’ve considerably calmed down on the latter, though.

Rate each of your sexual partners (if any) from 1-10. I’ve only had one...I guess I’d give her a 9. A bit TMI but the oral could’ve been a little better.

Post the last FB group/page that you joined. I was looking for FB groups for a work deliverable, but I had to join one of them to give it a better scan. I don’t remember which group it had been, though.

Would you parents be mad if you were in a relationship? No. If they did, I would be very surprised they would still be meddling with a 23 year old’s life.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? I’m sure.

Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? I’m not now, so no.

What board games are you good at? I’m quite terrible at all of them, tbh. It’s why I’ve always preferred to simply watch over my friends when they do play board or card games.

Is there a sport/hobby you keep thinking about taking up, but that you’ve never quite gotten around to starting? Wakeboarding. Do you think pranks like egging/toilet-papering someone's house are funny or immature? Immature.

Do you think “sleeve tattoos” are a good idea? I’m not totally obsessed with the idea, but they do look good on people.

Is there anything in particular that your parents argue about? What? I don’t know. 100% of the time they are caused by my grown-ass mother throwing a petty-ass tantrum, so I could not care less about the things they fight about.

Do you ever actually read the “Terms and Services” when you sign up for websites and such? Nah.

If you have a handheld games console (a DS or GameBoy, for example), how often do you use it? I haven’t used the Switch since last year.

Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, what do you say? Pick it up and wait for them to talk.

If your best friend was kicked out, would your parents let him/her live with you? Probably not, knowing my mom – but I would do absolutely anything else to help.

Are you afraid of falling in love? I guess you can say that, yeah. I’m not headed towards that feeling again anytime soon, though.

Is there anybody you wish you could be with right now? I wish I was with my friends now.

Have you ever kissed someone & wished you didn’t? No.

Did you get kissed last night? Nope.

Do you enjoy going through a carwash? Idk, I’ve never taken my car to one. That’s something my parents take charge of.

How did you get most of your scars? Cooper.

Ever had to take an inkblot test? I haven’t.

Have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? Sure. Like back in high school when a group of friends had been caught cheating on our chemistry exam – and we were told that the entire batch would be given a formal warning. I was on the minority side that found the entire situation hilarious, because I know they wouldn’t dare mar the records of everyone else who took that stupid test honestly.

Have you ever seriously slapped someone in anger? My brother, only because he put his hands on me first.

What/who woke you up this morning? Just me.

Who was the last person to be in your bedroom besides you? My mom, who always goes in there without knocking/warning.

What’s one of your locked text messages? I don’t lock my texts and I’m not sure if that’s an available feature on my phone.

Have you ever finished a game of Monopoly? I don’t even know how that game works lol.

Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? Yes.

The truth all comes out when someone is drunk, true? I mean for the most part, yeah. It’s easier to be honest with a few drinks in you.

When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself? Continued from the other day. Last week when I forgot about a virtual meeting and attended it 15 minutes after it started.

How about feeling disappointed in someone else? Last Friday when I had to watch my dad treat a service crew member like shit.

For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? Envy, I think. I don’t really feel jealous.

Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? Nope, but close. I’ll do eenie-meenie sometimes haha

Do you have any specific chores you do around the house? Nothing I’m required to do but sometimes I’ll offer to wash the dishes or fold laundry.

For you, does comfort or fashion come first in dressing? It’s like 70% fashion, 30% comfort. Looking nice makes me feel more comfortable lol.

Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? Not each other; the dislike was one-sided. Gabie hated Andi for whatever reason, which in hindsight already should’ve been a red flag.

Do you like Laffy Taffy? No, I’ve never had one.

Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? Manual, only because I’ve never seen, much less use, an electric one.

Are your biceps at all noticeable? Nah.

Have you ever seen a walrus? It’s possible, but I don’t have very good memories of it if I have seen one.

Did you ever have one of those Easy Bake ovens as a kid? Not a popular toy here.

Does your bathroom have a theme to it? It doesn’t. I think that would be a little tacky tbh.

From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Three. We have doors in the kitchen, dining room, and our main door by the living room.

Are there a lot of trees in your yard? Not really.

Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap? Yes.

Have a best friend? Yup.

Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? No? That’s pretty petty. Both Angela and Andi have big circles of friends and that would be stressful on my end if I made a fuss every time they hung out with anyone that isn’t me lol.

Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? A bunch. I don’t count them as confidantes.

Does anyone hate you? It’s possible but I don’t care enough to want to know.

What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? Not breaking up with Gabie earlier, even though all the red flags were there.

Do you remember important dates? For the most part, yeah.

What’s some lyrics from a song that means a lot to you? “Dream, may all of creation be with you til the end of your life Dream, wherever you are, will welcome you Dream, may your trials end in full bloom Dream, though your beginnings might be humble, may the end be prosperous.”

Who gives the best advice? Andi. They’re able to tell me advice I don’t want to hear but am supposed to be hearing, which I appreciate.

Who do you usually see in your dreams? :) It’s a random cast every time.

What type of cake did you last eat? It was carrot cake with a really good cream cheese frosting.

How many of your friends are gay or bisexual? Almost all of them are...it’s easier to count friends who are straight.

What’s your favorite type of sandwich? Anything with pulled pork in it tbh.

When was the last time someone asked you out? Did you accept or decline? I’ve never been asked out.

Do you like The Offspring? I know a couple of songs but I definitely can’t call myself a fan.

One pillow or two? Two.

Do you like Mad Libs? I’ve never tried playing it.

Are you suicidal? Not lately. I haven’t been for a while, actually. I’m really happy about that.

Where do your grandparents live? My paternal grandparents live in the south. My maternal grandma lives in the village right next to ours haha, so not far away at all.

Do you cut yourself? Yeesh. Can’t questions like this come with a trigger warning? Anyway, no I haven’t in a while as well.

What is your pet’s name? Kimi and Cooper.

Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I'd love to visit. < Same!

Aren’t babies overrated? I think they are overrated in a sense that everyone always seems to want one of their own, but the circle gets extremely smaller when it comes to those who actually have the capacity to take proper care of an infant.

Have a built-in pool in your backyard? No.

Ever won yourself a stuffed animal? Sure, in like claw games and whatnot.

Ever had someone else win you a stuffed animal? No. I don’t really like stuffed toys lol.

Ever been to a circus? Nope.

Ever shot animals? I have not.

Do you consider yourself intelligent? I guess I’m booksmart more than anything else. I had good grades and can handle myself in arguments and debates...but I have my weaknesses in other aspects too, like street smarts lol.

Have you ever run away from home? I had a period when I wanted to, but never pushed through with it.

Do you put family first, friends, relationships, school, or something else? Work > friends > family.

What’s something you’ve stood up for in the past? I always shoot my mom a glare as if to say “be careful of the line you’re crossing” whenever she makes a homophobic, sexist, or racist remark.

What’s something you worked extremely hard to get? The healthy and stable mental disposition I find myself in these days. I would never give it up for anything ever again.

Are you satisfied with your body image? I mean not fully, but I also don’t have any complaints.

Have you ever been labeled negatively or otherwise been called something extremely derogatory? I’ve been called a bitch by this girl that was just a terror to be classmates with back in middle school. She was known to a big war freak and had her fair share of behavioral/anger issues, so it didn’t really affect me once I knew I was her next target. I didn’t encounter her again until college when we ended up attending the same university, and she’s changed a lot for the better.

Have you ever seriously taken advantage of someone or been taken advantage of? The former, no. Yes to the latter.

Have you ever been seriously ill? My fever last year really felt like the end of me lmao, so I guess yeah.

Have you ever befriended a former enemy? She wasn’t an enemy per se, but I just found myself immensely irritated by Sofie during our first few meetings; but then she ended up being one of my best friends for a time

If you’re not religious, would you ever pray as a last resort? If you are religious, do you often pray for other people? I did in the past. I wouldn’t do so these days.

Have you ever dated someone, then after you dated they came out of the closet or switched (for lack of a better word) sexual orientation? That hasn’t happened to me.

Has a boy/girl ever walked a ridiculous distance just to see you? How about vice versa? I think once? My ex was brewing a surprise for me for Valentine’s Day last year and to cut the long story short, she essentially walked a crazy long distance in my school to make the surprise a success. My university is huge and even I prefer to take my car whenever I have to go from one building to another, so I definitely saw the effort she had put in.

When was the last time you felt really uncomfortable? Right now. It’s really humid and my electric fan isn’t really doing anything to curb the heat :/

Is there anything that your mom is really known for as to how she is as a person? She is very uptight.

Who have you been talking to the most today? My co-workers, albeit virtually.

Are you nosy? Nah. I won’t really press and will wait for people to open up.

What’s the meanest thing you have done to a friend? I don’t do mean things to my friends.

If your ex called you crying, what would it most likely be about? Fuck if I know. Her pride is way up in the sky for her to do something like this.

Who was the best kisser out of all the people you have kissed? I’ve only kissed one person.

Have you ever been told that you have an annoying laugh? I don’t think so. It would be etched in my head if I was ever told this.

#survey #surveys

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark / remove it with the kiss of a knife / even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''mutter'' by rammstein

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Blood Red Heat prt 39

Lance was wild. How someone could operate semi-humanly while hacking his lungs up was going to be his omega’s new defining moment. Mornings had never been Lance’s best friend, nor Keith’s, but it seemed to be time they both woke up with the need to touch each other... Then, as Lance had improved, they’d done less touching and more “Lance dragging him from Red to go for a morning walk with Kosmo, despite the chill in the air leaving the omega coughing”. They had the same problem at night. Lance would want to sit up with the pack, but the cold air aggravated his lungs.

The pack had been really good with him. When Pidge started tinkering with her comms, she actually took the time to explain what she was doing to Lance. When Hunk needed to collect herbs, he invited Lance along, given their walks were never as far as Lance insisted on going in the mornings. Their first walk had been to Black, the closest of the five lions to Red. Lance could now make to Green before needing to rest, then Yellow. Yellow was the limit, the first time he’d had to support Lance back, because his omega didn’t want to be carried. Allura let Lance play with her hair, then Romelle asked him to do her hair too... Krolia was still a challenge, his mother trying to talk to Lance had ended up with Lance kind of squeaking, and apologising for being ill. When his mother hugged Lance, Lance turned red as he held his breath, Keith choosing not to save him immediately because with Lance being a permanent addition to their family, he had to learn to cope with Krolia sooner rather than later.

Shiro took a little longer to warm back up to. Lance wanted to be close to him, but sometimes he couldn’t find the right words, so would move closer to Keith for comfort. His brother seriously fearing Lance didn’t like him anymore, until Lance finally found the words to explain he sometimes got a bit overwhelmed and confused as he wasn’t used to having his omega talking to him. Keith getting jealous when their little sign for this would be Lance holding onto Shiro’s hand or leg. When they were alone, Lance could articulate most of what he wanted to say, but there were clear signs he’d forget or get muddled when he really tried to concentrate on anything for longer than a few minutes. Coran seemed to think it was all exhaustion and would work its self out slowly as Lance began being able to stay awake longer and longer.

Then Lance went and surprised him. Krolia had started teasing him over how lazy he’d become. When Keith had sent his boyfriend a pleading look, Lance had waved him off to train with his mother and Kosmo. His mother was mercilessly. Training felt good after being so stagnant, but every muscle throbbed as he dragged himself into Black to shower and change. Black laughing at his exhaustion, always his biggest supporter right there. Unintentionally he’d kind of fallen asleep on his bed, his bed so inviting after being made to run laps around all 5 lions... the lions were massive... and life wasn’t fair.

Panicking hard over falling asleep, he’d rushed outside to find the sun had set. Jogging into camp to find Lance and apologise his arse off for not being there for him, Hunk tricked him. Playing up that Lance needed alone time, he sent him running off to find Lance who’d “wandered away from camp and refused to come back”. Their friends were wankers. Lance had wandered away from camp, to set up a picnic for the pair of them. Sitting on the blanket with Kosmo, the space was lit with two emergency lights. Keith not knowing he was walking into a picnic until he’d come to the edge of the blanket

“Babe?”

Staring up at the night sky, Lance shifted his gaze to him, smiling up in a way that went straight to Keith’s heart

“Hey, you”

“Hey, yourself. Been here long?”

“A little while. Come sit down next to me”

Sitting beside Lance, Lance moved the blankets he had around his shoulders to cover both their shoulders, Kosmo whining disinterestedly at his arrival. Lance didn’t seem overly sad. There was nothing in his scent that pointed to him being upset

“Hunk said you’d wandered off wanting to be alone”

“That’s because I asked him to. I’m sorry, you would have worried, but I wanted to do something nice for you. It’s not much in the way of dinner, and it’s cold now, I thought a picnic under the stars would be nice”

Keith couldn’t quite believe it

“You... organised something for me?”

“Yeah. The others helped, before you tell me off for pushing myself. I know caring for a person is hard and I wanted to show that I appreciate you”

Smiling at him so sincerely, Lance was the prettiest omega he’d ever met

“You didn’t have to”

“I wanted to. Hunk helped me cook. And I had a nap earlier while you were sleeping so I’d be awake enough to do this tonight”

“Babe... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crash out”

“You needed it. I saw how hard Krolia pushed you today”

His mother’s hard training now made sense

“Why am I now getting the feeling she was in on this?”

“Because she was. No big surprise, but it’s soup again. And some herbs that are meant to resemble a salad”

“No meat?”

Lance elbowed him softly in the side

“No. If there were chickens I could have cut and gutted one, but there wasn’t”

Keith was instantly in awe. Living on space whale he’d had to learn how to catch and kill animals to break the monotony of plant based dinners, Krolia had to teach him more than he’d ever wanted to know

“You know how to do that?”

“I come from a farming family. How do you think I knew how to milk a cow?”

“That’s... fair. You didn’t have to do anything special for me”

“I did and I do. Sick Lance is kind of an arsehole”

“Nah, not an arsehole. I will give you that you’re stubborn”

Lance sighed a sigh that Keith couldn’t quite place. Despite being happy, there was something there that tugged at him

“Babe?”

“Sorry. I was thinking about home before you came. You didn’t... okay, my home was always super super busy. Even if you were sick, you still helped out. If your hands were free, you’d fill them. That kind of thing”

Oh. He didn’t know what to say to that. Lance had a loving family from the sounds of everything he’d said

“That sounds...”

“Hard? Yeah. It was. There was a time I was really mad at my parents, but I’m over that. Anyway, you should eat”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to eat too. Hunk made me eat earlier, then Pidge let me nap against her...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Romelle is totally becoming a bad arse too. Shiro was helping her and Allura train. Coran kept throwing in suggestions but they didn’t go well”

It sounded like Lance had had a good day without him. Keith feeling kind of lonely to have missed it, not that he’d say so. Lance needed his pack and they’d all finally stopped reapologising to each other

“So why under the stars?”

“I used to love watching the stars when I was a kid. My siblings and I would make up dumb stories, then my Mami would come yell at us all for being outside”

“Why do I feel like she had a lot to deal with?”

“She did. There was never a moment of peace at home in Cuba. Cousins and siblings and chores... and a son that didn’t confirm to the standards of being an omega”

“That’s not on you. That’s no more your fault than... well, anything”

Lance chuckled as he snuggled close

“You’ve gotten better with your words, but it’s reassuring that you’re still you under all that rugged and grizzled appearance”

“I didn’t ask to grow up”

“I know. I know that it would have been hard, even with a mission to preoccupy yourself with. We’ll throw it on the therapy pile how insecure I am about my looks when my alpha is smoking hot”

“Says you”

“Dude, literally, have you seen yourself in a mirror? Omegas and betas are going to be queuing up just to catch a glance of Voltron’s sexy leader”

“Leaders, babe”

Lance hummed his disagreement, Keith kissing his boyfriend’s hair, using Lance’s words against him

“You really do have shockingly little faith in yourself”

“I look like a walking skeleton”

“Because you nearly died. I don’t care if you never have curves or whatever it is omegas think they need. As long as you’re healthy”

“Can I take a pass on going there right now? I don’t want to start wallowing over myself again when I want to spend the night out here with you”

“Fine, but only because it’s you”

“Thanks, babe. Anyway, let’s eat”

The soup really was cold. The salad a game of picking the herbs that didn’t taste awful on their own. Kosmo trying something that he obviously hated the taste of, his wolf taking off back towards the main camp as if he’d been betrayed. Pushing the remains of their dinner down the other end of the blanket, the pair of them laid next to each other under the stars, hand in hand

“Babe, how many stars do you think we’ve actually seen up close?”

“Me or you?”

“Either, either”

That was hard. They’d seen a lot of space, and yet they’d seen so very little of it

“No where near all of them?”

Lance’s snort told him he’d gotten the answer right. This was actually kind of nice, like way back when space hadn’t been all of this. When there were still mysteries out there that were mysteries and not an alarming gap in their intel

“Yeah... yeah, that’s true. Keith... do you wonder if maybe we’re still in the game?”

Rolling to his side, Keith leaned in to kiss Lance softly

“No. I did for a bit, but not anymore”

“I’ve been wondering why I’m taking all of this so calmly. We all apologised again, and I think I’m okay with that, but after so long... this kind of feels like a dream”

Keith bit back pointing out Lance hadn’t been all that calm when he’d been sicker

“We’ve got our second dynamics back, and I don’t know about your omega, but my alpha has been pretty nonstop”

“I don’t... my head feels busy. It feels weird...”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Both. Sometimes I feel ok and others I feel so on edge that it feels like everything will break”

“Depression and anxiety will do that to you. Plus, you need to cut yourself a break. You presented really late”

“I know. Maybe that’s why I keep wondering if this is all a dream?”

“I promise you it’s all very real. We’re here together”

Nosing into Lance’s cheek, his omega’s scent filled him with warmth. Reminding Keith he had another question to ask

“I know this is a bit late, but do you mind when I call you “omega”?”

“At first it kind of... didn’t feel right, but I can hardly deny it after spending your rut and my heat together”

“I’m sorry it was such a huge burden on your body”

“It’s okay. And... honestly, it did get better. You’re a kind alpha”

“I’m not so sure about that. I did get... rather... passionate”

Lance snorted again, tilting his head to kiss Keith’s cheek just short of his lips

“I am. You... were very good to me”

Keith sighed as he forced himself to roll back. Lance was very very tempting, more so than Pike

“You’re going to wake my alpha up again if we keep talking about sex”

“Maybe I want to...”

“Babe?”

This time Lance rolled to face him, his omega walking his fingers up Keith’s chest and bopping him lightly on the tip of his nose

“You... me... under the stars”

Keith wasn’t not interested, but he did wonder with all Lance’s questioning if this was a dream

“I thought you were recovering”

“I am. I also had a talk with Coran today too. He didn’t say rush into sex, but he did say that if I wanted to be intimate with you, that was my choice and it’s my body. He also went on and on about honour, and how you were a very honourable man... and how you reacted at the idea of me being knotted to save my life”

Keith had been furious and sick to his stomach at the thought that could be the only way

“I didn’t want to... not without your consent. You sound like you had a very busy day”

“I know. And kind of, but not really at the same time... I just... being in love with Allura was tiring. I couldn’t blame her for not loving me back, and I didn’t understand how... How I couldn’t be enough. On the other hand, you... These last few however long it’s been... it’s made me feel... infinity better. It’s... easy with you. I feel like... I’m waiting for your every word and to see what comes next for us. That makes me sound pretty pathetic”

Lifting their hands, Keith kissed the back of Lance’s

“I don’t think it does. I just honestly don’t want you to feel rushed or that I won’t be interested because we don’t have a super intense sex life. I want to do this right”

“I know you do... I hate the term “making love”... but I can’t think of how else to word it. I want to make love to you under all these stars before everything gets hectic again. I want to try to work harder on concentrate on making these small happy moments with you”

“I don’t want to aggravate your lungs...”

“Babe, my lungs will be a mess for a long time. Coran didn’t say it, but it could take months for everything to heal properly, if they ever do... If you treat me like glass every time I cough, I don’t think I can take it”

“I just... don’t want to lose you”

“Trust me, apparently I’m stubborn”

Keith kissed the back of Lance’s hand twice more

“You are very stubborn... I think I can be in the mood for a little romance”

“Mmm... why don’t you show me what you’ve got, samurai”

Laying Lance out under the stars, Keith wanted to do this right. Lance was a hopeless romantic. Absolutely hopeless and well known for his romantic heart. Lance smelt intoxicating, his natural musk mixing with his aroused hues. Kissing Lance’s inner thighs, the way the muscles jumped was adorable

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah... just... very exposed”

Keith had stripped him down slowly, Lance’s shirt hadn’t made it easy, both of them smacking their foreheads against each other as the clumsily made their way through things. Kissing had lead to wandering hands, Lance making the sweetest little mews as Keith had slowly started to open him, as he hid his face against Keith’s shoulder

“I’m just as exposed, you know”

Covering his face, Lance mumbled into his hands. The emergency lights had been laid down to cut the amount of light, yet Keith knew if he could have seen it, Lance would be blushing

“But you’re so hot it’s not fair”

Smirking down at Lance, Keith teased him gently

“Oh, babe. You’ve got it bad for me, don’t you”

“Shut up”

Too cute. Lance was too cute. Did all alphas turn into such idiots when they found their omega?

The sex was slow, Keith tracing his hands over Lance soft skin, keeping his thrusts slow almost to the point of lazy, Lance’s scent grew sweeter and sweeter. It was nothing like sex with Pike, or the hard dirty sex they’d had when both their instincts were screaming to breed. Having marked Lance’s neck with plenty of possessive hickeys, his boyfriend smacked him when he started teasing his nipples. The tiny brow buds just the right size. Lance had fallen apart beneath him, the back of his hand against his mouth, though it didn’t stop the little moans and mews that Lance would give. Everything was so overwhelmingly intoxicating. The warm wetness of his boyfriend’s heat. The wet squelching noises each time be buried himself. The way Lance was so open and pliant for him. And the fact that other than him, and Darkstorm, no one else had laid hands on their beautiful omega. Lance’s ganglyness might turn other alphas away, but Keith knew how much work Lance put it into training. He knew he worked himself far more than anyone else, except for maybe him.

Moving his hand from his mouth to Keith’s shoulder, Lance whined softly

“Up...”

Keith stopping his thrust to leave himself buried deeply in his omega, so close to coming but wanting Lance to come first

“You want up?”

“I wanna cuddle”

“Okay, little omega”

Seating Lance in his lap, his omega cried out as he sank back down on Keith’s erection, Keith massaging Lance’s arse as he gave him a moment to adjust. With his arms wrapped around him, it was like they were only two beneath the blanket of stars above

“You okay, babe?”

“Mmm... I want it hard and fast”

So bossy...

Taking Lance by the hips, Keith let his control slip, moving Lance to meet each desperate thrust as his knot started forming

“Do you want my knot?”

“Please... alpha... I’m going crazy”

His pride swelled, his omega pleasured to the point of wanting his knot. Lance might not fall pregnant any time soon, but practicing was fun. Rolling his hips, they both moaned, Lance’s lips finding his, kisses clumsy as Keith thrust up over and over, knot flaring as Lance came with a heavy groan, his full weight driving Keith’s knot as deep as it’d go as his own orgasm painted his lovers insides with his seed. Biting on Lance’s shoulder, he’d very nearly bitten Lance’s neck, the amount of pleasure and joy he felt nearly forcing him to bond with his omega too soon.

Boneless and breathless, Lance nuzzled into his hair. Body shaking as Keith kept rutting through each slow burst of cum. Had Lance been able to fall pregnant, Keith was sure he’d pumped enough into knock him up. He’d never experienced anything like it a rut. Sure, he’d come a lot, but this was like a fucking volcanic eruption in comparison... and the way Lance rippled and squeezed... his body already trying for a pup of their own. Pups weren’t everything, and if the day came where Lance wanted a pup, Keith would do absolutely everything he could to make that dream happen.

With Lance firmly knotted, Keith hushed him as his knot jostled, the alpha reaching for a blanket to cover his loves cooling body. It’d do no good for Lance to catch a cold when he still had so far to go recovering. Kissing his hair, his omega hummed softly, a “thank you for the blanket” that he couldn’t find the words for

“Babe, are you okay?”

“Mmmm”

“My knot should go down soon... I’m sorry it puts so much strain on you”

His crotch was soaked from cum and slick, he’d probably regret it later, but that was for later Keith to deal with

“Mmm... ‘s ‘kay”

“You did so good, babe. So good for me”

“‘nly you”

“Yeah, babe. Only me”

They’d all apologised to each other, yet Keith still felt a burst of anger that their pack could think Lance would be sleeping around on diplomatic missions. It was the same kind of useless anger that he’d felt about leaving the team with Kuron. An anger he couldn’t do anything about, and an anger that would take a while to fade. Before they’d even been... close? Keith hadn’t thought Lance the type to sleep with just anyone, despite the “Nyma incident” and his omega’s chronic flirting. Lance was so damn faithful. He’d never do anything to risk negotiations or put their pack in danger. If Keith let himself think too much on it, he’d only grow angry at everything all over again.

Whining softly, Keith caught the hues of anger starting to bleed into his scent, upsetting Lance

“Shhh... it’s okay. My alphas just getting worked up at the idea of anyone daring to think they could hurt you”

Things were different for him. Lance had forgiven their pack, one by one, and as “Pike”. Yet his boyfriend had admitted he did feel moments of hurt and unsureness sometimes when he’d catch one of their pack out the corner of his eye. To Keith it was understandable. He wouldn’t have been mad with Lance if Lance hadn’t been able to accept the apology of their pack yet, yet Lance was so damn kind

“You won’t let ‘em”

“Nah, babe. They have to get through me first”

“Mmm... so damn dependable”

Tickling Lance’s side, the omega laughed tiredly, hissing when he tugged on Keith’s knot before settling his weight back against Keith

“Nooo... no tickling”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it”

“I know... You’ve got a case of “Roman Hands” and “Russian Fingers””

The reference went straight over Keith’s head

“If you say so”

“I do...”

“Okay”

Lance sighed at him, Keith kissing his hair. He knew he had a lot to learn, but being this open only felt right because Lance had shown him he’d be there for him. Right now Lance just needed a little propping up, but soon the omega would be back to being his right hand man and his stability. What started as mess of jealousy and mutual lashing out, had grown slowly, piece by piece, and now it’d morphed into something completely new and breath taking. Far more breath taking than the stars above.

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lihikainanea · 4 years

Note

tiger napping at bill's house and she wakes up having started her period and shes so embarrassed and her cramps are terrible because she hasn't taken any pain meds but bill is so calm and understanding and helps clean her up, giving her a hot water bottle and does her tampon for her (bc you have made me obsessed with this idea 🥺)

Oh god this kink it is so strong and I am still SO ASHAMED.

Just a reminder that this is a JUDGMENT FREE ZONE. We are all safe here.

Look man, I don’t know if any of my lady friends out there have ever had the pleasure of starting a birth control pill. Whether it’s a start-from-scratch situation, or a change up situation where you were on one before but now you want to try a new one–but let me tell you, in my experience, it is absolute HELL ON EARTH. Get ready to gain 15lbs. Get ready to gain another 15lbs in just your bra, because your tatas will get huge. Get ready to be an emotional basket case. A total hormonal tornado. A HORMONADO, IF YOU WILL. But the most fun of all, is get ready to start your period literally any time, anywhere, completely unexpected for like, 6 months. Last year I had to switch to a pill with less estrogen and Jesus Christ, it was awful. I was either on my period for like 3 months straight at a time or it would just start RANDOMLY and it was a fucking cascade–and let’s keep in mind, too, that I am routinely on flights that last like, 16 hours. And that I train in martial arts, and our uniforms are white. Spontaneous crimson waves were literally my biggest fucking fear all of last year.

So like, look. Maybe Bill and tiger had a conversation one day–both of them always used condoms with previous partners because maybe tiger never really had a steady partner so condoms were a MUST, and maybe Bill always used them with his partners because he just felt a little better having double protection or maybe his partner insisted on it, who knows. Either way, once they start boinking on the regular, maybe they talk about it. Except they talk about it in true Bill and tiger fashion, which means one day over breakfast tiger just blurts out that she’s going to start taking an anti-baby pill that week so he doesn’t have to keep wrappin’ it before he’s tappin’ it and Bill just like, chokes on his orange juice. And once it’s out of his nostrils, once she’s gone back to reading the comics in the paper, he clears his throat and gently squeezes her feet–which are, of course, in his lap.

“Tiger are you sure?” he asks, “Aren’t they kind of…hard on your body?”

“I want to,” she shrugs, “For a lot of reasons.”

“If I’m the main reason, kid, I’m fine however we decide to…do it,” he stammers. And he’s turning a little pink and it’s adorable, “I don’t mind uh…I don’t mind wearing condoms.”

She smiles softly at him.

“I know,” she says, “And thank you. But it would be nice to also be more…regular. There’s a bunch of reasons, Bill. And I just want to.”

“Okay,” he returns her soft smile, “If you’re sure.”

And like, part of me wants to believe that he accompanies tiger to the doctor because she’s terrified of doctors. And while he obviously doesn’t go into the exam room with her, this mental image of Bill all folded in two in a tiny plastic chair, surrounded by pregnant ladies and posters of uteruses and these physical reconstructions of vaginas and vulvas just gets me cackling. He’s so uncomfortable.

ALRIGHT SO. Here we are. So tiger gets the pill, and she starts the pill. And it is hell on Earth. She’s bloated. Her tatas are sore. Literally nothing fits anymore–including her bras, which Bill needs to bite his fist and leave the room every time she changes and he just sees her swollen breasts spilling over the top of her bra. He wants to nose dive into her chest, but he knows she’s uncomfortable and feeling anything less than sexy.

But more than that her cycle is just…havoc. It is unpredictable. It happens any time, anywhere. He’s had to take her home smack in the middle of a dinner party at a nice restaurant when she’s emerged from the bathroom with a panicked look in her eye. He’s had to take his sweater off and wrap it around her waist, bring her to his car as she just cries because she’s mortified. And Bill feels just a tad responsible and a tad guilty, because he still thinks she’s doing this in large part for him. And he really, really feels for her because not only is her cycle unpredictable, but it’s also just a lot more painful than it usually is–which was already a lot. She’s doubled over in pain on the couch, she has trouble eating, she doesn’t want to move, she always gets a migraine. It’s awful for the poor thing.

And Bill just…god, Good Dude Bill. He makes it impossible to be embarrassed around, even when tiger is so fucking mortified. Because it’s inevitable–sometimes it starts in her sleep, and Bill has to gently shake her awake. And she just cries, because she’s in pain but she’s also just so embarrassed but all Bill tries to do is soothe her, comfort her, coax her into a hot shower while he changes the sheets and gets another hot water bottle ready for her. He’ll cuddle her on the couch when she just can’t move from it, wrapping around her and rubbing her stomach gently. And he really just does his best to try and take care of her–makes her lots of hot tea. Makes sure she eats as much as she feels up to eating. Helps her manage the pain a bit with some meds, and when it gets real bad, he runs the best bubble baths and he’ll just sit there in it with her for hours.

And I mean like, look. I don’t know how it happens. But I want it to happen, and I am now at the point where I’ll just FIGHT ANYONE WHO DARES JUDGE ME ABOUT IT.

But maybe her body is kind of stabilizing a bit after a few months, so they think they’re in the clear. But she’s been complaining of a nagging backache for most of the day, a bit of a headache, and she seems rather oblivious that those are some signs she’s about to get her period and Bill is just looking at her with a quirked brow wondering how the hell someone could be so oblivious about their own body. In any case, he’s a little more aware than she is–but he knows better than to say anything.

But sure enough that night as they’re sleeping, he’s curled around her. And I kind of low key love this idea of a little alarm bell that goes off in his brain sometimes that he needs to check on Little Human. So he wakes up, and sure enough–he feels it. That wetness, all over the front of his boxers. He sighs, raises up a little to check on her–but she’s knocked out cold still, which is probably a good sign. It means she’s not in pain.

He eases away from her slowly, goes to get a washcloth from the bathroom and some of her supplies. And when he crawls back to bed, he eases her onto her back and starts to pull her panties off. She stirs a little.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her, and she settles a bit. He pulls her panties slowly down her legs and off, reaching to move her thighs a little further apart. She stirs again, shifts a little and grumbles. He presses a light kiss on her lips.

“What’re you doing?” she mumbles, and it’s sleepy and she’s not even half awake.

“Cleaning you up,” he says, “Stay still.”

And like, here’s the thing. Tiger is still in that floaty state, right? And god I hope none of you have ever had this happen to you, but ever fall asleep first at a slumber party, and then everyone pulls pranks on you? Because I have. I deadass fell asleep once and woke up in the MIDDLE of my friends writing on my face with a Sharpie, and I asked them what they were doing. And they told me they were writing on my face. And I was in that in-between stage, so I legit just said “awesome have fun” and went back to sleep.

Tiger’s halfway between sleep and rational consciousness, and she’s asking questions but not really registering the answers or at the very least, not getting panicked about them. Which is good.

“Why?” she asks, but she doesn’t move and her eyes are still closed. Bill hesitates, runs his hands softly over her stomach and she purrs a little.

“You got your period, kid,” he decides on honesty. And her brows furrow a little at that, and she makes as if she’s going to sit up.

“Oh,” she says, “Oh god.”

And she’s starting to wake up fully, but if he can just keep her relaxed enough, it’ll all be fine. He pushes down on her stomach a little harder, kisses her softly again.

“Relax, tiger. I’ve got you,” he says, “Go back to sleep.”

And he waits until she settles again, before grabbing the warm washcloth and cleaning her up. When he’s done he tosses it into the laundry bin before he grabs the tampon–which he unwrapped in the bathroom, so it wouldn’t make any noise because Bill’s a smart dude–and he puts a soothing hand on her stomach, scratching lightly as he just gently put it in for her. He tosses the rest into the trash, pulling the blankets back up and curling around her. And tiger is registering what’s happening, but she’s so goddamn tired and she’s just so comfy and feeling so fucking safe and well taken care of with him that she just lets it happen. Because it’s the middle of the fucking night, but he’s got those big warm hands running all over her and he’s cooing softly at her and just telling her that he’ll take care of her and she thinks that yes, yes that sounds perfect.

And you know what? You’d be a goddamn fool if you don’t think for a second that Bill is also humming with those good caretaker vibes, helping her, giving her what she needs, taking care of her. He tucks her into his chest and he’s feeling mighty good about himself, too.

But like, look, the next day? When tiger realizes exactly what happened? Oh god. She’s mortified. And Bill knows, because she tries to avoid him from the minute she wakes up. She’s skittish, nervous, she leaves the room as soon as he comes in and it doesn’t take long for him to corner her and get all up in her space.

“Tiger,” he says as he bends to catch her gaze. She closes her eyes immediately. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“You know what,” he accuses.

“Bill, who does that?” she snaps and her cheeks are turning bright red, “God it’s just so…so….so weird and gross.”

“Me, I do that,” he tells her as he tilts her chin up, “And it’s not weird or gross, so shut up.”

“Bill, you literally put a–”

“I know what I did,” he interrupts, “And it wasn’t the first time I’ve done it. It won’t be the last, either. I told you kid, one of my ex’s was really into that sort of thing.”

Tiger finally meets his gaze as her features contort into a look of disgust, her lip curled. Bill rolls his eyes.

“Tiger, look. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he says earnestly, but Bill knows. He knows she’s embarrassed, but he also knows that she didn’t stop him last night.

“But if it didn’t…” he continues, and he bends to take her face in his hands as his eyes sweep over her, “If it didn’t, then that’s also not something you should be embarrassed about, either.”

Tiger is turning progressively more purple. And she reaches up and fiddles awkwardly with the neckline of his shirt.

“It’s weird,” she mutters. And she sounds an awful lot like she’s trying to convince herself. Bill waits, lets the silence hang until she meets his eyes–which are nothing but kind, honest, not an ounce of judgment anywhere.

“Did you like it?” he smiles warmly at her. She huffs, tries to take a step back but he still has her face in his hands. He kisses her softly, reassuringly, but he doesn’t let her get away.

“Did you?” he asks again.

“Bill,” she whines, but he looks at her expectantly, “I didn’t….I didn’t hate it. Alright? I didn’t hate it.”

He still has the same lopsided, soft grin on his face.

“I….like it when you take care of me,” she admits. She’s rewarded with another soft kiss.

“And I like taking care of you,” he says. He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her tight to his chest. She sighs.

“Want lunch?” she asks, both because she’s desperate to diffuse an awkward situation and desperate to change the subject.

“Sure,” he chuckles, and he breaks away from her.

“Then get out of my kitchen, it’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she says. He winks as he turns to walk away but before leaving completely, he turns back to her.

“Oh, and tiger?” he says, and she meets his gaze, “When it comes to you? Nothing is ever off the table. I don’t care how weird you think it is–I’m down. Remember that, kid.”

#period kink #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #soft bill

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snorlaxlovesme · 3 years

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This is just uh. A thing. A long thing. I actually drafted it back in July during Pride Month but chickened out before I could post it. But then I discovered that Ace Week exists and what better time to rant about the quintessential Ace Experience(TM) amiright?

I’ve struggled to define my sexuality since I was like 17. I can remember me and some of my girl friends going to the mall and talking about boys. I was currently teetering around a relationship with one of our male friends and they asked me to define why I was attracted to him and I couldn’t. They didn’t really think anything of it, moved along in the conversation and said “well X isn’t my type, so I guess I wouldn’t get it.” But the conversation stuck with me.

1. Because I never really thought the idea of a “type” was real. I didn’t think people ACTUALLY arbitrarily decided who wasn’t worthy of their affection based on a random set of archetypes. I thought they were shallow for saying that about him. I thought it was a mean concept to not let someone be “your type.”

2. Not being able to identify what I DID find attractive about him was....off. Like sure, he looked fine, but tbh he looked like an average teenage white boy and I couldn’t really pick out a physical identifier that made me want him. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, that non-relationship went nowhere and I eventually told him I wasn’t feeling it. I thought I just wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

At age 18 I had my first kiss. Another male friend of ours. Another relationship I’d been teetering around. I had told him multiple times that I didn’t like the idea of dating him so soon after I had broken things off with X. It felt weird, too soon, let’s hold off. But part of me also didn’t like the fact that I was 18 and had never been kissed. It wasn’t at the forethought of my mind all the time, but it lingered back there. Maybe it was because, puberty-wise, I was a late bloomer. Maybe it was because, in my friend group, I was always somehow dubbed “the innocent one.” I didn’t want to continue being late for every major marker in life, so when Y took me up on a hill at sunset and said “I’m going to kiss you now” I let him.

It was not what I thought it would be. All the magical descriptions of kisses in YA books were drastically over-selling the experience. The first one was nice enough, but I couldn’t help but thinking “this feels exactly like kissing a relative” and being a little relieved and little disappointment that the sensation was exactly the same. The second kiss was much worse because he put his tongue in my mouth and I quickly discovered I hateddd that.

I thought that maybe it was Y’s fault. I didn’t like him the way he liked me, so there was no magic. No spark. But also maybe I was just doing it wrong? He did kind of imply that I wasn’t the best kisser (god, how romantic) and so maybe the more we did it the more I would like it?

We went on one more date after that, and almost every time we made eye contact he tried to kiss me. It was horrible. I spent the better part of the day actively trying to not look at him because I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want to do it anymore. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out. I’d like to say I handled the situation as maturely as with X, but in reality I ghosted this kid for like 2.5 months and eventually sent him a facebook message saying I wasn’t feeling it. I figured I wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

College I had no time for relationships, or so I told myself. Maybe I didn’t have the mental capacity for them because I was too busy wishing I would get hit by a bus (higher education did not go great for someone with undiagnosed ADHD). I kind of assumed everyone also felt the same way, but people were coupling up around me left and right. Everyone had the same stressors I had, maybe even more so, and yet they had time to form new relationships and have noisy sex in the dorm room next to mine. I didn’t have time, though.

My roommate asked me in those first few years if maybe I was asexual. I actually got mad at her for even implying it. Asexuals were emotionless robots who were so repulsed by sex they didn’t even want to THINK about it. I talked about sex with my friends all the time! I masturbated when she wasn’t around like every other day! How dare she even insinuate that I might be one of those people. I just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship yet.

And sure, I’d been on tumblr for years at that point. I’d been relatively educated about the LGBT community and its various factions. But nothing about it screamed ME. All those people seemed to have the same shared experience of knowing who they were since forever, of experiencing some form of discrimination based on who they were. I had always been straight, right? And no one’s ever discriminated me for who I liked.

It was weird, though. Getting older and hearing more and more people talking about sex and just like, NOT feeling the same way. Was talking to my friends in a group chat one day, and one of them was head over heels for one of her coworkers. Not in love, but I-wanna-rip-off-your-McDonald’s-uniform-and-fuck-you-right-here-in-the-break-room (do McD’s even have break rooms? whatever) lust. She’s like, “you know that electricity you feel when you’re next to someone you really, really like. where every time you get close to them you feel this MAGNETISM and your entire body feels hot--”

--and all I could think of was how that sounded EXACTLY how Bella described her feeling towards Edward in Twilight, and just how ridiculous it sounded. That’s some YA bullshit, that’s not real.

And then our other friend in the chat was like “yeah.”

Oh. Well I guess I just have a lower sex-drive than you guys. That’s whatever.

I didn’t really identify as asexual until I saw a post about an aspec identity called autochorissexuality.

The term autochorissexual describes a subset of asexuality which is defined as: a disconnection between oneself and a sexual target/object of arousal; may involve sexual fantasies or arousal in response to erotica or pornography, but lacking any desire to be a participant in the sexual activities therein.

That...kinda sounded like me....

Like I said, I masturbated and all that jazz so I assumed I couldn’t be asexual. I literally loved orgasms. I read smut and watched porn to get off like I assumed the rest of the world did, not even really realizing that a lot of people...get off...thinking about people doing stuff....to THEM.

I do not think about people I know when I masturbate. It feels incredibly weird for them to pop up in any of my fantasies, and I kinda just assumed that meant I wasn’t attracted to any of them (which I’m not), so it was fine. It didn’t really occur to me that I literally NEVER fantasize about myself when I get off. If I read smut I’m thinking of the characters. If I watch porn I’m thinking of the actors. Never am I imagining someone hot and sexy doing hot and sexy things to me. I’m not even very good at getting off based on my imagination alone, unless I’m basically writing my own smut in my head and imagining what THEY enjoy. The thought of imagining things being done to ME feels weirdly...embarrassing? I don’t know. I don’t dig it, so I don’t think it.

Again, it did NOT even occur to me that that might not be how other people operated.

I also didn’t know that asexuality COULD have subcategories like that, other than aromanticism, which was an identity I toyed with for a while and ultimately am still unsure about.

But learning that liking orgasms =/= allosexual was kind of a wake-up for me.

After learning about autochorissexuality (which, while I am incredibly, infinitely grateful that someone coined that term so I could learn more about myself, I will never identify as because it is a mouthful and I honestly don’t know how to pronounce it), I began identifying as asexual. I was 21 at the time. I’m almost 26 now.

A couple people know. Mostly people who follow me on tumblr that I also know in real life. I never really had to “come out” to them per se because they saw my posts and rolled with it. Wasn’t a big deal. I think that I actually had a conversation and TOLD those friends in that group chat, but that didn’t feel like coming out, more like all of us finally coming to a realization about me we should have figured out a lot earlier. Also, they’re friends from tumblr, so they’re not the types to make a big deal out of that stuff either.

Even though I have a couple of tumblr friends that I skype with regularly, I don’t really bring it up in conversation that much. Like two of my irl friends (who, again, follow me on tumblr) know, and we don’t really talk about it much either. It’s there, we all know, but if I don’t bring it up, they don’t either.

I’ve never really “come out” before. Had to sit someone down and have the conversation. Part of me thinks it’s kind of pointless, because whether or not I’m sexually attracted to others isn’t any anyone else’s business, really. It doesn’t super impact my work life or my life with my friends or family, so why does it need to be said? If I decided I liked women and wanted to date one, that would be a big change that I’d have to address to someone. But me being asexual is just me continuing to not have sex with anyone, the way I always have. Seems like a weird thing to cause a fuss about.

But it’s part of me. And I want to talk about it sometimes.

But I don’t even know how that conversation would go. Asexuality is a relatively invisible subset of the LGBTQIA+ community. Like, it’s the last letter, the one that often gets cut off. And when people do bring up the A, it’s for Ally. I’m not gonna get into the discussion about that, I don’t know enough queer history to form a hot take, but the point still stands that many people don’t know about asexuality. And while it seems relatively easy to explain, I guess--

”I don’t experience sexual attraction”

--it also feels way more complex than that. And I’m not very good at articulating why I’m NOT something else when I have a hard time identifying what that something even IS. I was the kid who thought having a “type” was shallow and mean! It didn’t occur to me that people’s sexual fantasies INCLUDE THEMSELVES AS PARTICIPANTS. So how do I explain my lack of attraction to people?

But maybe I’m being too reductive of the masses. Like, I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch but *I* was able to learn what was asexuality was on my own. Who’s to say others haven’t? Maybe I won’t need to give an informative slideshow every time I come out to someone.

...But what if I’m wrong? What if I get into a relationship one day and I find myself INCREDIBLY attracted to my partner? What if I get into a relationship with a WOMAN one day and realize that I was les/bi/pan this whole time? I know that demisexuality exists, I know that sexuality is a spectrum and people are constantly learning about themselves and evolving. I don’t want to downplay that or..or...invalidate that. I know. But I’m an idiot. And I can’t help feeling that if I come out and commit to fun new adjective about myself and then all of a sudden that adjective doesn’t fit me anymore I’ll be labelled as fraud for forever and ever.

I know that’s probably unlikely for the most part. But it’s still something that’s there in my mind that I feel every time I think about talking about it.

I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t know why I’m writing this post because there isn’t some grand conclusion to my narrative or sweeping answer to my problems. My story continues for as long as I live and maybe things will change and maybe they won’t. I’d like to be able to come out one day and say it. To my sisters. To my coworkers. To some random dude hitting on me who seems kind enough to understand there’s a reason I’m reluctant to flirt back. Probably not to my parents. I don’t know if I want to present the slideshow to them about my lack of sex life, nor do I think they would handle my act of vulnerability with grace or tact (boomers, y’know).

I guess I can end this post by saying that it’s not all bad. Not being “out” kinda sucks, but right now, knowing is enough. There are a hundred other micro situations from my past similar to the ones I spelled out above that made me wonder what was wrong with me. I wanted to be able to like someone the way other people did, to have a normal relationship, but I couldn’t force myself to do it and I didn’t know what was stopping me. The whole am I just broken conversation whirled through my head many a night in college when insomnia prevented me from sleeping and depression stopped me from giving myself a fucking break. It sucked, and maybe it’s a little grim to think of asexuality as a diagnosis to a lifetime of symptoms, but that’s kind of what it felt like.

And that’s not bad! Why? Because i know that I’m not alone and that this is NORMAL . Being asexual is not being broken! It’s something that many people identify with! And honestly that thought alone thrills me enough to make this whole ridiculous narrative worth it. There’s a whole world of people out there feeling the exact same way as me, and none of us are wrong for feeling that way. It is unreal the kind of confidence that gives you.

My friend from earlier, the one who desperately wanted to bang her co-worker, she said something to me the other day that struck me with how far I’ve come in terms of my identity. I was sobbing to her on the phone about a shitty thing in my life, as one does, and she pointed out how the strangest things will get to you while others don’t even have an effect. If someone mentions how I don’t have my drivers license at the ripe old age of 25 I legitimately have a breakdown on the phone with her about it, but if people make jokes about me being a virgin I don’t even bat an eye.

And it IS weird. If someone would have made a virgin joke at me at age 20 I probably would have spiralled into one of my late-night, crying-into-my-pillow sessions about how much I fucking SUCK at being a human, but at age 25 it’s just...whatever. As someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction, why WOULD I have had sex already? If I don’t seek it out, don’t want it, it’s not gonna be a part of my life, you know? And I don’t care. Past me, without this identifier, would have cared deeply. Current me could go her entire life without having sex and I don’t think it would drastically effect her mood.

It’s weird how one little word can turn things around for you like that.

#ace #long post #asexual awareness week

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gayregis · 4 years

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I've listened to the part where Geralt talks with a very ill Cahir about Ciri and vengeance... it was one of the most emotional parts of the book by itself but also thanks to your take about the lost innocence of Ciri ! I felt it thrice hard in the feelings! Also, do you have thoughts on the declared love of Cahir for Ciri? Personally I see it as disturbingly romantic, let's say. Thank you for your commitment to the books and sorry to bother you

omg thank you for the ask. first of all i have to say you’re not bothering me!! tbh i have been loving getting asks because it gives me an opportunity to like bring more discussion to the witcher community...

i feel like although reblogging pretty gifs of characters/landscapes from tw3 and any good fanart i can find is nice, my FAVORITE thing to do is write or read a really long textpost about the witcher books, i really like the discussion aspect of fandoms where people post their reactions and opinions to the content they like, because you get a bunch of shared reactions and differing opinions.

so no this is NOT a bother at all, and its nice especially to get asks about topics that i have strong feelings about but have not made posts about yet, like this one

ok, as for the actual topic: i hate forced heterosexuality, so you KNOW i hate that canon cahiri! it was out of line from sapkowski and imo, it came out of absolutely nowhere in tower of the swallow, it wasn’t something built up to or foreshadowed at all, so it felt not only weird in context but weird for sapkowski as an author.

my main problem with canon cahiri: i think it’s super creepy!

first of all, let’s discuss the age difference. cahir in baptism of fire is estimated to be “not over 25,” which i see as putting him around 20 to 25 years old, and i usually take the median of this which is around 23. while this “not over 25″ comment is said in the context of the hansa to remark upon how young cahir is (i believe it’s thought of by either geralt or dandelion, and geralt is around 60 years old and as a witcher he looks 45, and dandelion is 38 in tower of the swallow), and how cahir is described as a young man in time of contempt to illustrate that he has a sense of innocence to him as ciri cuts him down, his age gap with ciri is super innappropriate for anything to occur between them, since she is 10 or 11 during the massacre of cintra (as stated by geralt in something more), so she would be around 14 at thanedd, and 15-16 during baptism of fire to lady of the lake. so sapkowski deemed it fit to pair a 23 year old man with a 16 year old girl. this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, what with essi being “not over 18″ and shani also bein around 18 / college age, and yennefer canonically looking around 20. listen, the man has some messed up values when it comes to women’s ages. we have to take it upon ourselves as people who like the not-weird parts of canon to understand how worldviews and personal biases affect one’s writing, and change it for ourselves to make it right so we can continue interacting with it, if we so choose (tldr: retcon some shit when it’s fucked up in canon).

now, before someone argues that “it’s fantasy medieval world, medieval relationships between men and women were just like that,” believe me, i am aware. i study ancient greece/rome and men who were in their 30s were most often paired with women in their teens as part of their arranged marriages. that is how their ancient societies functioned more than 2000 years ago. the issue is that this is a fantasy world, in which societal norms and laws do not have to conform to real-life earth history, and this is the work of a modern writer writing in the 1990s. it’s not “just how the times were,” it’s deliberately choosing to include an age gap like that to be something canonically acceptable by their society/ies.

also, one could argue that the age gap would be fine once they are older, like, when ciri becomes an adult she is already medievally-style betrothed to cahir so they start dating when she’s like 20 and he’s like 27. eh... that’s still an uncomfortable age gap, at least for when they’re in their 20s. people in their older 20s have more life experience than people in their younger 20s. but at least it wouldn’t land cahir in modern-day jail.

it’s still just an uncomfortably large age gap, and if you think about it, it’s even creepier considering that cahir met ciri when she was a helpless child around 10 - 11 and it just makes the bathing scene excruciatingly creepy too if you put it in the context that he eventually would fall in love with her. it even begins to not be about strictly age, but about life experience, development, and power imbalance within the relationship. i mean, he did literally kidnap her.

cahir in tos calls ciri a “woman” when she is like, 15 or 16 (with the rose tattoo) (to anyone reading, please don’t come at me with that “the age of consent is 15 in poland, just because it’s 18 in the US doesn’t mean your laws and culture apply to everyone” ... please do not try and justify this with laws, legality is not morality. only saying this because i’ve seen it in other posts). like.... hm! don’t like that! she is a teenager... he is in his 20s... this should not be occuring.

sorry for the loooong explanation, but every time someone brings up the subject of age gaps on tumblr it turns into crazy discourse with everyone trying to justify it.

but yeah, CANONICALLY cahir would have been 16-21 (median 18) when he met ciri at 10-11, and 20-25 (median 23) when he declares his love for her at 15-16. that’s ... not good ... to put it more into perspective, these are their ages on a traditional school system path: a 18 year old is a high school senior, an 11 year old is a 6th grader. a 23 year old has been out of college for 2 years, a 16 year old is a high school sophomore. ITS NOT GOOD

my other problem with canon cahiri: it’s boring and contradicts sapkowski at his own game.

all of the witcher is about taking fantasy tropes and inverting them, like you can’t have some random peasant kill a dragon, you’d need a professional, and also guess what, the dragon isn’t evil but a dad trying to protect his wife and child.

all of the characters in the hansa (as well as the four main characters of geralt, yennefer, ciri, and dandelion) are inversions of the tropes they represent. for some examples, milva’s trope is something like the hot action girl who only exists to be the only girl in the company and to be sexy eye candy. instead of falling into this, she is actually an action girl, not bothering with sexiness and appeal to the gaze of a male audience but a “get shit done” type, who also dresses and acts “like a man.” regis’ trope is all vampire tropes ever. he/vampires in the witcher doesn’t/don’t fall into any of the traditional european vampire myths like burning in sunlight, needing to drink blood to stay alive, being disdainful of humanity, having aversions to garlic, belonging to a super-secret orderful society that lurks in the shadows and controls everything like puppetmasters, etc... instead, he is the epitome of redemption arcs and overall “goody-goodiness,” understands humanity perfectly and does things out of his good nature. i already talk about regis too much, so i’ll quit it.

cahir is an inversion of every knight trope ever, particularly the evil knight. he scars ciri’s memory as a night terror, but actually is not ... a bad person. he’s just some guy, pressured by his family and his society to do what he saw as an assignment like a college kid might see their final essay assignment posted on canvas. except you know. the final exam was to kidnap a girl. and he got an F on that and failed the course (ie got thrown in prison). ANYWAYS, cahir is meant to be this inversion of the knight tropes, so WHY, WHY, WHY make him become the knight trope of being the one to romance and to save a hapless princess? if we’ve learned anything about ciri, it’s that she’s the inversion of the princess trope! she KILLS PEOPLE. she ALMOST KILLED CAHIR. she can defend herself and kill for herself, she doesn’t need the knight trope going to protect her!

heterosexual romance as the Big Reason and Motivation behind all of a character’s actions is tiring, annoying, boring, and not well-thought out. it’s so base and not unique, it doesn’t fit in with everything else about the witcher.

how i would fix it: not make them fall in love.

cahir already HAS a motivation to find ciri and to help her. he needs to APOLOGIZE. he needs to say, hey, i’m sorry i kidnapped you and ruined your life, i made peace with your dad, he doesn’t wanna kill me anymore, i can only hope that you can forgive me too after i SET THINGS RIGHT.

as opposed to regis’s arc (i swear i am not playing favorites with regis, i just tend to compare and contrast regis and cahir’s redemptions because they are quite different yet they join the hansa side by side so they’re bound to be compared), cahir actually can find the one (not many) people he wronged, and set things right on his own accord, not go forth with a larger mission to assist all humanity, or whatever.

i think cahir also had this WONDERFULLY UNDERUTILIZED anti-imperialist message as part of his character that pains me to see being swept under the rug for some cheap lame romance story. sapkowski already created some anti-war sentiments with the battle of the bridge in baptism of fire, and he tried to create anti-racism sentiments throughout the book/at the end of lady of the lake. anti-imperialism fits with the rest of the saga as a message.

the fact that cahir was instructed by his family to hate the northern kingdoms, despite the fact that they were related to northerners, is really profound as something to happen to a character, and holds a lot of meaning in today’s society. the fact that he broke, finally, after he lost ciri, just completely lost his mind and had to be restrained because he was wailing so hard, because of the pressure that this society put him under to succeed and achieve pride for his family, is such a great example of the tragedies of society. then he speaks out against his leader and is jailed... and yet, after this, he gets to learn from his mistakes and redeem himself as a good person, and his character has developed SO much. he is not doing what his country wants him to do, he is not doing what his family wants him to do. he is doing what he wants to do because it is the RIGHT thing to do. that already is such a powerful message, he doesn’t need anymore character motivation!

so yep that’s my thoughts on why cahir is a good character asides from all that forced romance biz

#ask #cahir #ciri #master-dellamorte

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stonerbughead · 4 years

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Maria watches friday night lights (#24)

I’m here! The final season! 5x01, here we go.

“Don’t you just love summer in Texas? 7 am and I’m already sweating like a whore in church.” This, set against the montage of summer in Dillon with trash pick up and kids running through a sprinkler, is true perfection.

let’s dive in, under the cut:

Lol is that Tinker driving alongside Vince and Luke running? Hilarious/wholesome image.

Buddy as a radio host really truly makes so much sense. Why didn’t they think of this sooner lmao

Oh my babe Tim!! on the inside but he’s getting out in three months, ok I see that

“I kinda coached you.” “Coach was my coach, billy.” Lmao “You could be a little more enthusiastic.” “Sorry, Billy, but im in prison.” Uh yeah. read the room, Billy!

Oh Tim, my poor babe 😭 wants to be visited *less* by his brother and friend. Abolish prisonssssss ugh

Oh Tami coming into the first staff meeting and immediately proposing the rest of the staff do more work probably isn’t the most strategic choice lol

This reminds me a lot of teacher meetings in season 4 of The Wire, with all of the staff talking about particular problem children the system is failing. And oh boy they all hate a teenage girl named Epyck. “I just wish she wouldn’t come into school.” Uh you should not be a teacher, miss! But also: you all need more resources.

Jess and Vince are as cute as I knew they’d be omg. “I thought you might need help with the laundry.” OKKKK

Ugh poor Becky! her dad is so gross. She’s stuck with her—I’m sure—evil stepmother and half sister? Major yikes!

The idea of Billy working for Eric Taylor is...interesting. And his argument is basically “you are inspirational and could make me a better person under your influence.” Man, only a mediocre white dude could get away with this!

Yessss Devin is still here playing in a band with Landry and that drummer whose name I can’t remember — oh jimmy okay! Devin is still the coolest character in this town.

Wow Landry is playing a show with his hometown band the night before leaving for college? That’s...a choice!

Oh geez something about Buddy and Eric watching mainly Black kids play basketball whilr recruiting for the team...and of course the one Buddy has his eye on is the one white kid lmao I can’t

“I’m not football stupid.” Lol good one.

“Worst instincts of american culture—violence, aggression.” Okay sexy! what’s your name white kid with moves?

“You’re in Texas now. You love the game of football. You just dont know it yet.” LOL

Aww Tami talking about how this girl Epyck all the other teachers hate has never been properly cared for to succeed is exactly why a guidance counselor like her needs to be in East Dillon. but yeah she’s bout to learn REAL fast what lack of funding and institutional racism look like! Eric is right about her not being the big cheese anymore and being able to change everything at once.

“Yes I’m stealing a basketball player but I’m doing it one step at a time.” Lmao

AWWWW Eric saying “I’m gonna miss this” quietly while eating with his family bc Julie’s about to go to college!! My heart.

“Oh boy oh boy” — literally me, physically tensing up, when Billy tried to give his little inspirational speech to the football team toooooo much he is so cringe. OMFG he read “if you can believe it you might achieve it” off a piece of paper from his pocket and attributed it i literally cannot

“The hippie? What for?” Lol that basketball player is considered a hippie in Dillon? Hilarious. The south is wild.

“These kids are being forgotten.” “Tami, it’s a matter of resources.” “I’m your resource!” Yes Tami but you alone cannot fix dozens of kids who are products of being in a system with lack of resources since before they even started elementary school.

Damn big Mary is out franchising and being corporate dad while Jess watches his children?? Not cool.

“So who is this guy?” “He’s not the punter, you wouldn’t be interested.” LMAO VINCE GOOD ONE

Aww Landry came to say goodbye to Mrs. Saracen. Aw he’s going to Rice? That’s a good school.

OMFG Mrs. Saracen has Landry’s music in her MP3 player???? My fucking heart 🥺

Grace is soooo cute holy shit

Oh wow does Crucifictorious or whatever have fans singing along? It’s really nice that Julie went out of her way to go.

Are we contrasting this with an East Dillon farm party? Ew so drunkenly kissing farm animals is what these kids do for fun huh

“I like knowing that I can do whatever I want. I’m a free spirit.” LMAO I hate this guy

“I’m gonna miss this.” “Miss Dillon?” “No I’m gonna miss the Alamo freeze and all their cool treats and hot eats.” LMAOOOO Landry

Omg they’re reminiscing about Matt working at the Alamo freeze. “I miss his little white hat.” L O L

Lol Landry and Julie say their final goodbye in the strip club, nice. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

Omg Eric searching through their boxes for ping pong paddles so he can play a final game with Julie has my whole heart. Omfg and they found her Girl Scout vest.

Awww they’re playing in the garage, the season 1 vibes, oh my heart.

Oh so is the basketball coach mad about Hastings playing football? Wild culture truly.

(In the end, a teenage boy can’t help but answer the siren call of other teenage boys chanting his name)

Oh poor Andre acting out about their parental neglect at the Classic. Too real but babe it’s not Jess’s fault 😭

Go Tinker!!!

Hastings knowing some strategic info about another team from basketball, very interesting touch.

Wow Hastings somehow doing well without knowing what he’s doing or seemingly understanding football is hilarious.

“Lions win, lions win! Oh, the humanity! Alarm bells are going off all over Texas right now!”

Oh wow it’s happeninggggg

Ewww Becky really has an evil stepmom like Jesus can she have any positive parental figures

Jess and Vince are cute af. Vince helping Andre out 🥺

Honestly yeah I don’t blame Becky for wanting to leave that emotionally abusive household. The found family code in this town is so well established by now. like, Billy is obligated to take Becky in bc Tim considers her family and I’m like, yep!

Ohhh the Taylors sending their first kid off to college, emotional!!!

#maria watches friday night lights #mine #friday night lights 5x01

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lucatorahaven · 4 years

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vampire au post

4 skype convos haphazardly mixed in from very different times

[29/11/2014 4:27:51 AM] Probably Not Assorted Cheeses: Vampire au

Lucas the incompetent vampire who eats mostly animals

Duster was the one who bit him, only bc duster was literally starving n lucas came at a bad time

idk if duster should be born a vampire or not but Wes is one too and together they taught lucas how to survive.

however eventually they had to leave, they offered for lucas to join them but lucas can’t leave his family behind, the kid’s too sentimental :’(

so together they staged his death (which im too lazy to try n think of)

claus knew bout the vampire thing tho, lucas couldn’t live alone like that. He also ended up biting Boney in an accident so hey vampire dog.

claus grew up and eventually had his own family. Lucas could only really watch from afar but then the kids got his age and it was hard to see him and keep the gig up. He visited his parents funeral anonymously and afterwards him and claus stood there just

“sup” “how’re the kids” “twice your age and with kids of their own” “heh, i always thought you would be the one with kids yano?”

it was very bittersweet, it felt like they’ve never been apart

“it never stops feeling strange without you” "I know”

lucas thinks of that conversation a lot

he started off the "younger uncle" then the "weird neighbourhood kid that visits grandpa claus" and inevitably the "weird kid from nowhere who goes to the cemetary every other month to put flowers on graves older than appears to be"

SO without attachments lucas traveled with boney, hoping that they find duster along the way.

eventually lucas comes back to tazmilly but it’s been a couple hundred years now and it’s completely different so he doesn’t recognize it

n lucas one day is caught outside with no shelter, it’s almost morning so he runs into osohe (which is way outta town so he assumed it was abandoned)

vampires can’t enter homes without being invited in because apparently homes are holy land but osohe is fuckn haunted so that doesn’t apply (adding on to the abandoned theory)

that’s how kumatora and him meet, she finds him exploring osohe all “wtf the fuck who are YOU...this me house”

So she gets an awkward lie explanation from lucas

n she eventually catches on lucas is a vampire n is just DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE I NEVER MET A VAMPIRE BEFORE FUCKN SWEET

lucas is just UM.;;; IS IT OK IF I STAY

"oh dude it's cool!! but u gotta tell me bout yourself bc i never met a vampire before ok?? i live iN THE PERFECT GOTHIC HOME BUT THERE’S NONE!! but here you are and i’m JACKED i gotta go to work tho so brb but afterwards u gotta tell me about yourself ok CYA"

lucas is still processing everything by the time she leaves, but he’s grateful and figures a conversation is the least he can do to repay her

in this au kumatora’s into cryptology bc her house is FULL of books and it’s a common subject (also the fact her castle is filled with ghosts and there are zombies just across the moat, it’s a p convenient hobby)

when she comes back she’s super excited because he’s still there

lucas is kinda reserved but he still answers questions bc it’s POLITE

she asks bout p much everything?? “HEY do you need that” “y-yes” “is this true?” “not that i know of” “ok experiment time” “uH;;” “wait am i keeping you up?? it’s still daytime” “no it’s okay”

after exhausting lucas of all his Vampire Facts kuma invites lucas to live at osohe castle, it’s big enough anyways

lucas is wary af bc he doesn't wanna accidentally get close to someone who 1. has a life span and 2. is technically food

but lucas ends up sticking around anyways, boney really likes it and he lowkey enjoys her company

so they keep chillin n lucas tells her how he hunts animals n how he only takes a bit of blood so they don't die and

IDK I GO BY THE THEORY THAT VAMPIRES HAVE VENOM bc otherwise their entire food source becomes COMPETITION n they can bite but not?? TURN THEM INTO ANYTHIng so controlled blood flow for feeding purposes

also vampires only need to eat once or twice a month? they die around 6+ months without eating from starvation. It all depends on how quickly the blood cells in their body die basically.

ALSO when they bite you it doesn’t hurt bc their saliva numbs it so (sneaky bites) but it still feels weird as shit

bUT YA SO LUCAS N KUMATORA CHAt a whole bunch...you know that “accidentally get close” thing i mentioned? it happened

(it was kinda hard to avoid when the first companion you have that’s not your dog is informed on vampires and vampire goods, that was convenient)

so they keep hangin out and kumatora unlocks his Tragic Backstory

n sometimes kumatora helps him feed? like they go out together finding animals n storing blood

n lucas is fascinated with how technology has advanced bc he doesn't really?? go into towns anymore but he fuckn LOVES it

n they play video games n general COOL FUNTIMES

kumatora let’s lucas borrow her labtop to occupy himself and he looks for other vampires or hints of them

(this is under the assumption that osohe can get electricity in a modern au while still being ignored / abandoned)

n when kumatora goes to work he cleans up the castle n tries to show how much hE REALLY APPRECIATES HEr

n lIKE i also go by the logic that vampires do not do the stereotypical “turn into ashes at sunlight” it is a slow progression that takes up to 12 hours until absolutely turned to a crisp

so basically if he covers himself and wears a shit ton of sunscreen he can chill in the middle of the day for like...a hour or two

and bc kumatora's WORTH IT he visits her at work n she's all LucAS WHAT ARe yO U DoING??

lookin like a modern goth kid......has a huge red burn on his cheek..

he blames it on how pale/blonde he is “my brother is ginger you know”

kuma gets super worried n he's all bruh it cool i have like..2 more hours until i need to go to a hospital

n kumas jsuT I GET OFF IN 4 HOURS GO HOME

kumatora invites him to movie nights with her friends n shit

people start calling lucas kumatora's goth boyfriend “never call him that when he's around or i'll murder you”

theyre all rather cool with lucas and find his speech kinda funny?

"wow look at those teeny boppers" "GET A LOAD OF THIS GUY GOD I LOVE IT" “???????????????" kumas friends ask for lucas more all WHAT SCHOOL DOES HE GO TO WHERE DOES HE LIVE "oh he's......foreign B)"

eventually it comes up how lucas doesn’t really want to be a vampire anymore and kumatoras just “dude i can help you find a cure” bc maybe her hobby is a bit Excessive but live your dreams

but ya lucas is just?? constantly wants to visit kumatora n loves her night shifts!! visits all the time they go on hikes a lot n jusT? GETS SO FUCKIGN ATTACHED IT SCARES HIM CONSTANTLY

they sometimes fall asleep on the couch together n when he's all "wow shes so cute.." he realizes how fucking Deep he’s in this and he’s FUCKED

he tries to distance himself but he Can’t Fucking Do It (just like w/ his fam)

whenever he tries to push her away she looks so upset it kills him

N HE'S IN SUCH A STRUGGLE BC HE'S JUST

SO HAPPY TO BE AROUND HER??????

N LIKE WHEN THEY CUDDLE N STUFF HE'S JUST SO OVERWHELMED BC oh my god heartbeats!! oh my god she's gonna die before me

n lucas really fucking feels the severity of how FUCKED he is when its her birthday n hes just

yes she's gonna age and he's gonna outlive her n they could never realistically be happy even if by some offhand chance she even RETURNS the feelings

N HE HAS TO HIDE HIS CRYING N STUFF BUT KUMATORA HAS A 6TH FUCKN SENSE FOR DISTRESSED LUCAS SO SHE'S ALL bruh :( whats up

so he opens up to her about his feelings and anxiety and she hugs him through it, it’s kind of a shitty way to confess

“idk if i can forgive you for deciding that i’m gonna die before you” “are you threatening murder” “that and no way death’s gonna get me, i’m pretty stubborn”

a lil while passes

“you know... i’m okay with becoming a vampire” lucas refuses bc dude.. you can’t even comprehend the weight of immortality.. what if she regrets it

“to hell if i make my closest friend suffer because of a life span” “hah i guess that’s the same for me”

they drop the vampire topic for the time being and move on to other ones such as... mutual feelings :^)

they’re both romantically inclined i mean... lucas spent 300+ years being a hermit and kumatora had other things to do

so they take it slow, it’s p much the same as before except.. hey...now when i think “man i wanna hold their hand” i CAN

it'd also be really sad and/or cute if the ghosts in the castle some of them were lucas's family which might be why boney likes it so much but also imagine them kissin on the couch "kuma ghosts r there" "EH THEYRE JUst ghosts" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) claus looks into the camera "after so long... finally my little brother gets some action :')"

but idk if that’s a thing bc it feels kinda weird i feel like kissin n shit wouldn't b very often bc as much as they both loVE IT

IT'S NOT THAT GREAT FOR A VAMPIRE

YANO.... HEARTS R BEATING... NECK IS RIGHT THERE (lucas still adores it tho)

so back to the topic of Mortality

kuma gets attacked in an alley on the way home from work

n lucas finds her bc they were gonna meet up but he smelt the blood and when he does find her he just goes FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK n didn't know how to save her

also thinking rationally is hard when OH LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD AHhaHA

SO HE BITES HER

he carries her body home n he spends the whole waiting process between DEAD and VAMPIRE crying just "hoyl shti please work please work" “what did i fucking dooooo” “what if i was earlier” “what if i was too late” so many anxieties

kuma wakes up and lucas transistions from panic to HAPPY PANIC OH THANK GOD

she’s really out of it bc of the process and he’s crying apologies “it’s okay you saved me” but he’s still crying, they cuddle for comfort

"hey atleast we did it NOW when i'm a hot sexy 19 yr old and not a wrinkly old lady” “kuma” “i’m tryna make light of the conversation”

so now that kumatora’s a vampire she only works night shifts until she eventually quits. They moved to a new town / whatever so it was easy to avoid having to meet someone in the daytime. facebook helped keep in touch with her friends while still letting the friendship die out.

it took kumatora a bit to get used to being a vampire. she threw up a lot at first and she didn’t like having to drink blood but she did eventually get used to it

idk if they find a cure bc idk what the cure would BE but they eventually find other vampires :^) they continued lucas’s search for duster and probably found him tbh

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gaymer-hag-stan · 4 years

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My Top Five Video Game Franchises

I wasn't planning on sharing this but it turned out good so I decided I will!

5. SoulCalibur

I'm a big fighting video game fan! I'm nowhere near being a pro though I can beat most of my friends in many different fighters. SoulCalibur is one of the games I played with an old friend during summer while at the countryside when we were kids. His uncle would occasionally come over at his grandpatrents' house and bring his Dreamcast with him and he had SoulCalibur with it! I also had the PlayStation 2 demos of SoulCalibur II and III. When I still had a Wii and a PSP I got SoulCalibur Legends and Broken Destiny for each console respectively and while none were particularly spectacular games I had hours of fun playing both and I was happy knowing I finally own two SoulCalibur games! I couldn't afford a PlayStation 3 yet and by then PlayStation 2 games were really hard to find in Greece. My main character is Ivy. Ivy is infamous for being a very striking example of female video game characters who are grossly oversexualised and while it never had any effect on me whatsoever I realised while growing up why it is an issue. Despite that, I believe that you can enjoy and appreciate characters despite their portrayal but at the same time I can understand people who want a better representaion of female characters and I support them in that endeavour. I tend to always appreciate video game characters on a deeper level, or at least I try, while playing a game and I think that even fighting video game characters can have more substance than what meets the eye, and Ivy is no exception, especially considering how SoulCalibur has really deep background stories and lores for all its characters. My favourite game is SoulCalibur III. I love its character and stage design, music, everything. I really miss this game.

4. Dead or Alive

Another game I started playing as a kid during the summer at the countryside with my cousins, I think you'll come accross this concept in almost all of the games I'll be mentioning 'cause you basically can't do anything in Greece in the summer during noon because it's too hot to go outside until the sun starts to set so gaming was our favourite pasttime after returning from the beach and while waiting to go out later in the day. My cousins and a friend had DOA 2: Dead or Alive 2 for the PlayStation 2. Since me, my friend and my cousins were four people but didn't have that many controllers we each played story mode in turns trying to unlock more costumes for our favourite characters. My main is Helena Douglas. Again, the entire female cast is grossly oversexualised but a lot of them are close to my heart. The first game I owned was, for better or worse, Dead or Alive Xtreme Paradise for the PSP, one of the side games that features only the girls in a tropical island basically playing beah voleyball, and... being sexy... The game is a mess but the voleyball part is actually really fun and trying to collect all the swimsuits for all the girls was strangely addictive! The series came back from the grave back in 2012 and I finally got to play a mainline Dead or Alive game again as it had been an Xbox exclusive from 2001 to 2006 and there were no new main games after that. The second update to DOA5, Last Round in particular is really fun and I've spent hours upon hours playing. Definitely my favourite in the series and one of my favourite games overall.

3. Tekken

Again, a fighting series and yet again, one I played with my cousins and friends during summer at the countryside xD ! Tekken 5 was one of the games all of us owned and played the most so it's also my favourite and among my favourite games overall, definitely my favourite fighting game. My main is Nina Williams and along with Lara Croft I think they're my ultimate favourite female video game characters. They have a very similar demeanour and character design though Nina's costumes lean a lot more on the sexy side than Lara's ever did and she is a lot colder than Lara is but both were among the things that helped me realize how very gay I am. I think that any other fellow male Greek gamers or gamers from more conservative countries in general are very familiar with the concept that "playing with girls is gay", a sentiment I haven't really seen fly around in more open-minded societies. In any case, at some point I realised that I actually was gay all along so all these people were right and there was nothing wrong with it. So in that regard Lara and Nina are kinda my main heroines. I even got her own action-adventure spin-off game. The game itself is... mediocre, but I loved it because it was all about Nina! It kind of had a Tomb Raider meets James Bond feel to it. A friend of my dad's gave me a couple of games as a gift at some point and one of them was Tekken Tag Tournament that had all those classic characters that were either dead or a thousand years old in Tekken 5 featured while they were still in their prime so we also had a lot of fun with that game during summer. In 2009, I still couldn't afford a PS3 so I asked my mum for a PSP and Tekken 6 was included with it, spent countless hours with it and eventually got it again when I got a PS3 along with Tekken Tag Tournament 2.

2. Final Fantasy

Final Fantasy is a series I absolutely hated until I somehow didn't anymore... I tried a Final Fantasy X demo as a kid and I was extremely put off by the turn-based combat system. It was something no other games had at the time, none of the games I had played anyway, and it felt really weird and unintresting to me. so I decided that I will hate it forever and ever... Until 2015. By then I had just started university and I was kind of depressed because I really hated what I was studying and felt very trapped. For some reason that still puzzles me until today I decided that I wanted to try out Final Fantasy again. I made a little internet search and found out Final Fanatsy XIII was the most recent entry (side note: I hadn't upgraded to PS4 yet). I rented it from the video store and spent a week staying home playing it instead of going to uni... I understand now that it wasn't the most sensible option but it was honestly a break I really needed in order to truly realize that I should seek out other options if I'm not happy with my studies, and I did. After XIII I got VII for the PS3 and last March my friends got me XV for my birthday. A couple months ago I went on a "shopping spree" and got VII, VIII, IX, XII and X / X-2 for the PS4 and I am currently waiting for my copy of the FFVII Remake to arrive. Final Fantasy is probably the series that has made me cry the most and also inspired me a lot. It's also the only one that has ever come close to replacing Tomb Raider as my favourite series. Lastly, Final Fantasy XIII along with Resident Evil 6 and Tomb Raider: Legend are my "holy trinity" of video games people love to hate but I personally adore xD I'm not sure I can pick a favourite as I've enjoyed all of the ones I've played but maybe X? Though I'm feeling the VII Remake might surpass it.

1. Tomb Raider

Again, the summer story, you know the drill. I remember first playing Legend's demo and then while I was staying at my cousins' at their home in a town which is near the countryside we usually spent our summers, our uncle would have us go pick up games to rent at the video store after returning from the beach. We kept on renting Legend and trying to beat it. We only ever got up to the waterwheel puzzle in Ghana... If you have no prior experience with Tomb Raider (and you're literally nine!) Legend can actually be very challenging! Next year I got Anniversary, which was the first Tomb Raider game I ever owned and then got Legend. At some point during one of our video store raids my cousin decided to rent Angel of Darkness instead of Legend so we also got to experience that. It's probably his favourite. On my playthrough I got up to the point where you see Kurtis running off with his bike and then I think I got stuck in the sewers and didn't really know what to do next! I haven't been able to get my hands on it ever since. After the summer I converted a bunch of my classmates into Tomb Raider fans. Two of them had a good PC and that was the first time I ever got to play Chronicles. I got Underworld in 2008 but it was just the crappy PS2 version. I own all main and Lara Croft games except AoD. Lara Croft has been my favourite video game character for about as long as I've been playing video games. She is very special to me for reasons I already explained with Nina and it's very very hard to imagine how my life would be without her. I'm truly thankful for her and Tomb Raider. Legend will forever be my favourite and possibly favourite game ever.

#Final Fantasy #Tomb Raider #Tekken #SoulCalibur #Dead or Alive

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returnsandreturns · 5 years

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i have cast every character that currently has a speaking role in my novel

Freddy Rodriguez (circa early 2000s) as Andy Medina

Andy left a tiny town in Ohio for ungrad at NYU, bringing along mostly personal baggage, and graduates with a best friend and roommate, a fresh break-up, an English Lit degree and an acceptance to Columbia Law.

Three years later and he’s a law school drop-out who can barely make rent and has thirty pages of a novel he’ll never finish writing and no idea what he’s doing with his life. Some mix of a terrible radiator, a misdemeanor and pure fate leads him into a relationship that introduces him to BDSM and a world that makes him want to tell stories.

A few moments later, Laurel steps into the room, makes a considering noise, then promptly crawls under the covers with him, curled up facing him like she’s going to say something but she shuts her eyes after he frowns at her. They lie together in silence for awhile before she says, “How’s your brain?”

Andy thinks about it for a second. He doesn’t feel good, but that’s kind of been his level for a while.

“Not pleased with me,” he says.

“Embarrassed?”

“Embarrassed,” he echoes. “Rejected. Depressed. Nothing new, honestly.”

“Oh, honey bear,” Laurel croons.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that,” he says, laughing, rolling away from her when she tries to kiss him on the face. “I’m fine, I just need to hermit away for a couple of days and lick my wounds. And—jerk off, probably.”

“That’s your right as an American,” Laurel says, seriously, basically climbing on top of him to press a wet kiss to his forehead. “I’ll leave you to your sad masturbation.”

“Thanks,” Andy says, waiting until she’s back in her room before he buries his face in a pillow and screams.

He’s been pretty sure that his life’s not moving in the right direction for a while but this feels like a big glaring sign from the universe that he’s doing something really wrong here.

Alfred Enoch as James Graham

James left behind a position at his father’s prestigious law firm in Nashville to go to Columbia Law and become a public defender in New York, making him, despite Andy’s belief that he is pretty much perfect in every way, the family disappointment. He only goes to Tennessee for major holidays, where he gets sighed at a lot.

He just got out of a bad, intense relationship and he doesn’t want to get into another one and go through all that pain again. He’s worried that he’s getting into a loop of falling asleep alone watching Doctor Who, though, so. . .something casual might be okay.

“Oh my god.” James looks up at the ceiling for a long moment before sighing heavily. “I normally don’t sleep with criminals, so I don’t have anything to go on for this. Can you—be cool?”

Andy cannot promise that. Based on everything that he knows about himself, it’s completely unlikely that he can be cool. Practically impossible.

“Yeah,” he says, scoffing. “I can be cool. Lawyer me up.”

James looks at him for a long moment before he sighs loudly. Overdramatically, really. He’s got a job to do, and it’s not Andy’s fault that they’ve seen each other’s orgasm faces.

(James’ wasn’t even embarrassing. He looked like Barack Obama at a particularly tender moment of a speech. He’s a ridiculous person and Andy is currently in a room with him and, despite being simultaneously still drunk and hungover, still kind of can’t stop himself from spinning a problematic jailbird fantasy in his head. If his hands were handcuffed to the table, he could probably still bend over it.)

“Let’s just pretend that—what happened never happened,” James says, sitting a folder down and sliding neatly down onto the chair in front of Andy before raising his eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Of course,” Andy says. “I can definitely pretend like you never rocked my world.”

Lana Condor (aged up a few years) as Laurel Reyes

Laurel self-identifies as a manic pixie dreamgirl but she’s reclaiming it. She teaches art to rich little kids at a fancy private school which isn’t exactly her dream job but you make a lot more money doing that then inspiring plucky misfits. She’s the Mom Friend with varying results but, to be fair, Andy’s her only real friend and he self-identifies as A Problem Child.

“I’ve got hours to go before I sleep,” he says, “but it’s kind of like it was written by a very worldly child.”

She snorts, unpeeling the wrapper to bite down into it and coming up with frosting on her nose and a wry smile that he returns over his shoulder as he goes to the bathroom. She yells from where she’s sitting, “Is your sexy lawyer friend a fan of 50 Shades?”

“No, he’s classy!” he yells back.

“Nothing classier than whips and chains,” she says, muffled by a mouth full of cupcake, laughing loudly.

When he comes back out, she’s eating Stef’s cupcake, too.

“Dude,” he says.

“I’ll make it up to her,” she says, humming happily. “This is soothing the voices inside me yelling at me to have a baby.”

“They’re back?” he asks.

“Literal clockwork,” she says, darkly, finishing the cupcake off and balling the wrapper up to toss it in the direction of the kitchen. “Doesn’t matter that about half my kids are spoiled monsters who could bring an end to the human race entirely if all people capable of birthing someone were exposed to their bullshit.”

“Wow,” he says, sitting down next to her and letting her throw her legs over his lap, squirming until her back is against the arm of the couch. “I mean, babies are cool.”

“Babies are cool. And also terrible,” she says, making a long noise that’s somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Tell me about your garbage book.”

He’s describing what he’s read so far in as much lurid detail as possible when his phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and he gets up to grab it, laughing when Laurel says, “She sounds like she’s a deeply closeted lesbian. Can we talk about that? How she needs help and to get properly eaten out by someone who knows what she’s doing?”

Mara Wilson as Stef Klein

Laurel boldly marched up to the cute student librarian in the NYU library that her and Andy always studied in, said, “Is that a hardcover or are you just happy to see me?” and Stef, despites her best efforts, falls in love instantly.

Stef has a BS in Political Science but politics raise her blood pressure so she uses it to yell informative insults at C-SPAN and uses her MIS to make the biggest difference she can as a reference librarian at a NYPL branch.

“Laurel said you might be coming,” she says.

He’s pretty sure that Stef doesn’t actually hate him, and he knows that he doesn’t hate her so much as he’s scared of her and jealous of her for taking so much of Laurel’s time, but sometimes it’s really hard to tell.

“I need a book,” he says. “It’s of—a disreputable nature.”

“50 Shades,” she says, sounding entirely unimpressed.

“—how the fuck do you people know everything?” he says, voice dropping to a whisper as he glances around.

“I’ve seen that look on a lot of anxious straight women,” she says. “I’m professionally obligated to provide you with that book, but, as someone who secondhand cares about you, can I recommend something else? Please?”

“You care about me?” Andy asks, leaning on the desk and grinning up at her. She types something into her computer and makes an unimpressed noise before she acknowledges him again with a pointed eye roll.

Harmony Santana as Sara Medina

After their dad killed himself when she was fifteen and Andy was ten and their mom kind of went off the rails, Sara took on as much responsibility as she could and dragged Andy out of some of his darker times and sat with him every night to fill out the scholarships that helped him get to college. She felt left behind but their mom and grandma were both doing bad and somebody had to stay.

She came out as transgender after she graduated high school. Rural Ohio wasn’t a great place to transition but Sara is fierce and firm and the coolest, best person that Andy knows.

“I’m going to say this for the tenth—oh, I’ve been counting—time,” he says, making a grabby hand at Laurel who passes the carton. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He basically lives at his apartment,” Laurel says, nudging Sara and raising her eyebrows. “I never see him anymore, I’m having empty nest syndrome.”

“Why the hell isn’t he your boyfriend?” Sara asks, taking the ice cream from him.

“Because he—doesn’t want a relationship,” Andy says, because he doesn’t know much more than that, just a shadowy terrible breakup. “And neither do I.”

Sara and Laurel both silently turn to look at him and he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t!” he says. “What we have works.”

“Sure it does,” Sara says. “I want to meet him.”

“. . .sex friends don’t have to meet your family,” Andy says. “It’s, like, rule number three behind don’t fall in love and--use a safe word.”

“Rules don’t apply to me,” Sara says, which has actually been pretty true for most of her life, but—

“I haven’t even met him yet,” Laurel says.

“And you gave birth to him!” Sara says. “It’s happening. Tell him he has to come over.”

Aimee Carrero as Tasha

Tasha is Andy’s favorite coworker and one of a series of terrifying, amazing women in his life. She’s going to school for hospitality and is definitely going to own this hotel someday and possibly also take over the world.

She once had a boyfriend who liked to get pegged. It’s not really relevant to her character but she really loves to share that story.

He’s practically whistling at work, so he can’t blame the fact that Tasha rolls her chair backwards and sits there with her legs crossed, glaring at him until he says something.

“I can be happy,” he says, defensively. “I’m happy all the time. This isn’t weird.”

“You’re always staring wistfully into the distance like a Gothic heroine,” she says, suspiciously. “Is this about your hot lawyer boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend,” he says.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she says. “Is this the fresh-faced glow of someone who just got—”

“We’re not talking about sex,” he says, cutting her off, shaking his head violently. “It’s official. I made a contract and everything.”

It was just a piece of hotel stationary with I will not say anything about anybody’s sex life while on the clock; if I do otherwise, may God strike me down written on it and Tasha’s incredibly sarcastic signature below it.

“That wasn’t binding,” she says. “Do you really not want to tell me?”

“. . .no, I really do,” he says, after a grueling five seconds.

Hale Appleman as Gabe

Gabe doesn’t have a last name that he owns up to because he had a rocky end with his family and he wants to be a lot more mysterious than he actually is. He left home when he was seventeen and moved in with an abusive older guy who introduced him to kink; luckily, Eileen and Margaret, the owners of one of the first bars that he took Gabe to, recognized what was going on immediately and basically adopted him to get him away from the guy. They kept him away from the scene, too, until he was old enough to make his own choices and understand what he was getting into.

He helps with the business even after he moves out to his own place and he keeps an eye out to make sure everything is safe when he’s there.

“Hey, kid!” Gabe says, approaching them. “Good show.”

Andy’s in no state to talk to anyone right now, anyway, nevertheless someone who just watched him get spanked and clearly love it, so he just smiles at the way James holds him closer and says, “Thanks. We’re headed out.”

“I’m giving you my number,” Gabe says, holding out a receipt with a number scrawled out on it. “I was going to do it just to make your friend jealous because he’s cute when he looks like he’s about to kill someone but I also try to make friends with all the baby kinksters.”

“Friends?” James asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Friends,” Gabe repeats, seriously. “I’ve been around the block and I’m actually not a creep, so—hit me up if you have questions about the scene or whatever.”

“You don’t look that much older than me,” Andy says.

“Started young,” Gabe says, winking. “Have fun, boys.”

Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin as Margaret and Eileen Smith

Margaret and Eileen got married in the 60s because laws are for other people and they were (and sometimes still are) convinced that nobody’s ever been in love like they are. After a series of unfulfilling careers and a well-timed inheritance from one of the only family members that still spoke to them, they bought a bar that, with time, transitioned into one of the few sex clubs to make it through crackdowns in NYC in the 80s.

“Shit,” Eileen says, laughing, leaning back in her chair. “You wrote him a book?”

“No,” Andy says, shaking his head. “I just—finished it for him.”

“And wrote it about him,” Gabe says, grinning into his coffee mug.

“You wrote him a book,” Eileen repeats, sounding delighted. “That’s a lot, kid.”

Gabe made him come to the munch group meeting today, to keep him from lying in bed and staring at this ceiling and quietly having a meltdown because what the fuck did he even do? He wrote James a book. That’s what he did.

(“I know I’m not your dom,” Gabe had said, gently, “but if you don’t do what I say, I’m gonna come drag you out of bed.”

“Hot,” Andy had said, with no feeling.)

“I wrote it for myself, too,” he says, picking at the muffin in front of him. “He’s just—inspirational.”

“Love often is,” Margaret says, turning to look at Eileen with exaggerated sentiment, who snorts and shoves her lightly.

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